Lovely anon, thank you so much for this. My period has been just putting me through the ringer and thinking about the circus boys is exactly what I needed.
As I've mentioned before, I'm no stranger to darker topics and themes so prepare for this one to be a bit unconventional, (I can finally use my vampire smut ideas again). I'm also going to write this as the boys' first period cycle with you, for plot! This one is a bit nasty so buckle up!
Tags: NSFW, menstruating reader (gender neutral, mentions of uterus/panties), period sex, period eating, tampon use, pad use, blood play, sorry (not sorry) but I HC all the boys having a fascination with your menstrual blood, not proofread, I let the coochie type this one out
One Bloody Mary, coming right up!
The Freak Circus is an 18+ Visual novel Themes include but are not limited to: dark elements, strong language, sensitive graphic content. My works can depict similar themes and are not intended for minors.
Pierrot
"Period?" He tilts his head to the side like a dog trying to understand something. When you broadly explain how your cycle affect you, you can see him piecing events together. The way your mood would swing over the smallest things, how your appetite would be ravenous one second and nonexistent the next, how one of his usual everyday gestures brought you to tears one day, even how subtle your scent has changed throughout the weeks. His concern doesn't falter after your reassurance that this is a normal routine, especially when the cramps settle in. He tries multiple things to ease your discomfort, from massaging your stomach, frantically changing heating pads, restocking any craving snacks you mention in passing, even taking on some responsibilities around your apartment for you.
His demeanor changes completely once that fated drop of blood hits the cloth of your underwear. His muscles tense at the smell of this unique blend of your blood. Different than usual, thicker, richer, uncontrollably intoxicating. Panic seeps into his being, checking you over for any wounds you might've suffered when he left you alone for a moment too long. Once you figure out the source of his panic you remind him about the bleeding and reassure him that it's normal. His doting takes a drastic turn as your flow turns consistent however, seemingly keeping you at an arms length, treating you like glass when he does touch you, as if you could break at any movement, as if he could lose control. Out of all of the troupe, Pierrot is the most affected by your hormones and blood, whether that be biologically based or emotionally charged is a question for Doctor.
After another reassuring talk with your sweet lover boy, his curiosity overlaps his worry. "I want to help you, my dear, in any way I can. Please, allow me to take of you. I want to know every detail about your body during this, I-," he pleads sheepishly. His hands reach out to rub small hesitant circles along your hips, "I need to get used to you during this time of temptation, my dear, I can't bear the thought of not being able to control my urges. Please, help me get used to your 'period.'"
All sense of privacy is now reduced to a nice thought as he holds your legs in place on your bed. Your heat on full display as he stares at your most intimate parts. His eyes flick up towards yours asking for silent permission. You nod shyly before he gently pulls on your tampon string, his eyes dilating as he watches the white cotton change to a deep red. He took your guidance on how to insert and remove a tampon out as a sermon and replicated the action flawlessly, taking great care not to pull too fast or too rough.
You go to hand him a wad of toilet paper to wrap it in before you watch in shock as his tongue wraps around the tampon. Like a boa constrictor, it wrings the cotton of your ambrosia, eliciting a choked moan from your sweet clown, his eyes rolling back in his head as he pulls the tampon farther in his jaws. You try to wrangle the tampon out of his hands as he halfheartedly struggles to keep his prize, small growls and pleads fall on your embarrassed ears as you wrap it up before tossing it in to the trash, the sudden turn of events turning your cheeks a matching crimson.
"Please my dear, I need more, your blood tastes like the sweetest nectar from the most beautiful flower." He firmly holds your legs in place as he lowers himself in between them, drool dripping onto your sensitive skin. The scent of your heat wanes at his self control as if it was encouraging him to enact on his most primal desires. "I fear I can't hold back any longer, my love, I need to taste you, all of you."
Harlequin
"Oh what? Is someone on their period or something?" He teases as he puts the last piece of chocolate in his mouth. He doesn't even like chocolate but he loves the reactions he can get out of you right before your period hits. He can pick up on the usual tells of luteal phases and fill in the rest, often leading to him really testing the waters with his teasing and rage baiting. Sometimes you play "cold shoulder" and he has to figure out what he can do to get you to talk to him again, which is a game he loves, other times he crosses lines and manages to get tears to roll down your cheeks, which is a game he can live without. This first cycle is all about learning your boundaries and limits, often through a familiar trial and error process. Teasing your favorite foods only to take a rude bite out of, showing you purposefully sad videos to see what things push you over the edge, even inconveniencing you by hiding some of your belongings. Luckily though he can pick up when it's the right time to play these antics and when it's time to be supportive.
That is, until you start actively bleeding. Similarly to Pierrot, his demeanor changes as the primal hunger rears it's head. Your regular blood is intoxicating to him in the first place, but your period blood is on a whole other level. The scent is sweeter, more alluring, like a siren's call tempting his monstrous nature for a bite. His attention is split between your body's naive call and whatever conversation or activity you're trying to do with him. He does have some sense of self control and can manage to pull himself out of his spiral before the risk of temptation sinks its' fangs into his better judgement. Often leaving your side for a "breather".
On the inside though he's panicking. Trying to make conscious efforts to distract himself from the temptation of devouring you on the spot. Your flesh and blood was enough to keep his hunger a constant worry, but your period? He constantly finds himself fantasizing about letting his impulse take control, until he imagines your screams of pain as he inevitably consumes you. The thought sends ice through his veins. He distances himself from you during the first couple of days of your flow, timing himself for short conversations and limited physical contact, that is until you reach out to him first.
You end up cornering him in his tent, confronting him on why he's been so removed from your life. Anger billowing out of you similarly to your pheromones that assault him in the same way.
"Because I don't want to hurt you," he interrupts your tirade. His vulnerability causing you to stop in your tracks, which he promptly takes advantage of, "your body, your blood, it sings it's lustful melody to me every time I see you. It makes me want to devour you, until there's nothing but memories left."He growls out as he pins you to a support beam. Ropes tying your wrists together around the pole as he breathes against your sensitive neck. "You have no idea how hard it is, even right now, not to pick your pretty little bones clean."
You can read into his act though, behind his animalistic movements and intimidating words, he's terrified. His eyes scanning for your fear, hoping you'll fight back against him, reject him, save yourself from what he could do to you.
"Then devour me."
He freezes, his body tensing, the ropes around your wrist loosening slightly, before he leans into you, thunderous laughter filling the air.
"You really are something special, my dear,"his clawed hands grip the seam of your pants before sloppily yanking them down along with your underwear. Your pad's mess on full display, the scent of your blood causing him to release a primal growl from his throat that vibrates against your skin.
He drops to his knees under you, grabbing your thigh roughly as he props over his shoulder, his free tentacles snaking their way up your shirt, one toying with your nipple and another rubbing seemingly loving circles along the small of your back.
"Ask and you shall receive, predileto."
Jester
"You mammals truly are deplorable." He mutters in passing, leaving you rightfully confused. It wasn't until you looked at your calendar that you managed to figure out why he said that. Your period should be coming up soon, which had you curious on how Jester could tell. From his perspective, it's painfully obvious when a human goes through the stages of their cycle, not that he cares, but it is burdensome. The menstruation cycle does have some undesirable affects to his mind control abilities, which led him to educate himself on the hormonal fluctuations of human physiology, (thanks to Doctor and his extensive collection of scientific studies).
He's the most level headed when it comes to handling your symptoms, meeting your mood swings with realistic and straightforward responses, your cravings with a unwavering sternness, your tears met with a deep sigh followed by a tissue begrudgingly drying them. He views these gestures as "additional maintenance" during your cycle, picking up on the slight hormonal changes and adjusting his routine to accommodate them, although he would never admit to doing that for a human.
You foolishly don't notice a difference in his behavior when you start bleeding, but this phase is his favorite part of your cycle. Jester has an impressive amount of self control with his monstrous urges, to the point where he can go on about his day freely even if you free-bleed next to him. He quite enjoys the scent of your menstrual blood, often viewing you as a living candle. Although, finding your discarded period products more disgusting than the act of bleeding itself, often urging you to take care of the used products away from his vicinity. Although sometimes, he does allow himself some indulgences with his true nature.
"Sit, pet," Jester pats his lap once, his eyes glancing over the pages of his book into your very being.
You obey and sit on his lap, being mindful of where your pad rested against your underwear in your shorts, making sure there was no way for it to rest on his uniform. He adjusts his book in one hand and parts your legs with the other, the action catching you by surprise as you subconsciously clamp them around his hand.
His eyes flick to yours in a silent correction, then back to his book. His fingers moving your shorts and panties to the side exposing your mess to the chilly air of his tent. You tense at the exposure before glancing at him timidly, his eyes pretending to read the same line in his book twice now as he slowly strokes your sensitive folds. The sensation of his gloved hand mixing with the blood and wetness of your heat were enough to coax a slight moan under your shaky breath.
A slight smirk graced his mouth as he teased you further, easing two fingers in your warmth, the stretch causing you to tremble in his lap and grip the fabric of his uniform. His fingers massaged that special spot inside of you, coaxing more of your blood to leak out of you along with your arousal.
Just when you were enjoying the painfully slow pace he set, he withdraws his hand from your core.
"Now now, don't get greedy, pet," he bring his fingers to his mouth. His tongue coiling around the blood soaked fabric, his eyes never leaving yours. His tongue splitting into three to evenly clean off the fingers of his glove before forming back into one at the tips of the fabric.
"I'll savor you more later, for now be patient, my sweet treat."
Ticket Taker
"Ah, yes, menstruation." He's not exactly knowledgeable on the topic but knows the basics at the very least. He knows right before the blood comes the emotional instability but other than that you'll have to enlighten him. He doesn't change his routine all that much for you unless you have irregular pain or unusual complications, but he does make mental notes on what your routines are for your cycle. Often ending up providing you with a nutritious meal before the start of your bleeding, stocking up on period products, even carrying some on his person just in case. He meets your mood swings with rational thought and if things get too out of hand he's not above sending you off to cool off, or just "giving you time to come to your senses," he's a busy man after all. He does end up stocking up on additional handkerchiefs during this time just to dry any surprise tears that may ambush you suddenly. He may be a monster but he's not heartless.
He does get worried initially when you first bleed, often just forgetting that this is the next phase of the cycle. His tolerance to your blood is slightly above Jester's. Your scent does turn sweeter and tempting but his resolve is stronger, although if your flow is especially heavy he does find himself entertaining certain reprehensible ideas. His focus primarily revolves around your comfort and care over his desires however, asking you about any potential cravings, how you're feeling, if you need anything. Although he disguises it as "a way to keep the day-to-day duties functioning smoothly."
Around the midway mark, when your flow is heaviest is when his integrity starts to crack. The scent of your rich blood soaking the cotton of your pads and tampons egging him on and fueling his hormonal desires. He's not one for his own selfish indulgences, but you make it hard to steel his resolve when he sees you wince at a cramp and can practically envision your blood seeping out of your core. He usually finds more busy work to distract himself when such thoughts grace his mind. Although sometimes, his urges get the better of him.
Bill has no idea what he's thinking, he's no better than a rodent going through the bathroom trash and finding your freshly discarded tampon, still warm from your routine change. He sighs as he replays the deplorable impulsive act in his head, you in the shower, him using his mirror ability to grab the contraband, and now him, idly twirling it by the string.
"I truly despise how worked up you manage to make me, visitor," he mumbles under his breath, the scent of your blood poisoning his mental fortitude. His curiosity racing ideas on what to do with the spent cotton now. He studies the color, commits the scent to memory, and shamefully adverts his eyes to it.
He sets it back down on the toilet paper and takes a deep breath, rubbing his temple at the absurdity of the situation he got himself into. He's far too mature to be stooping this low, especially over something so primitive. He eyes the tampon again, huffs, and takes off one of his gloves, silently scolding himself.
He gently squeezes the cotton, managing to get some blood out of it before hesitantly licking it off of his fingers.
Euphoria.
He leans back into his chair, his internal battle with depravity favoring the beast within him as he picks the tampon back up. The offset weight causing it to spin teasingly at him. He inches the tampon closer to his face, allowing your scent to fill his very being, your pheromones his own sinful drug. His tongue slips out to greet his version of your joint before he hears the bathroom door swing open.
In a panic he drops the tampon in his tea cup, using the toilet paper wrapping to clean up any droplets that jumped at the intrusion.
He clears his throat to realign himself to reality, "d-dear visitor, how was your shower?"
You look at him confused, you obviously interrupted him at something, "it was, okay I guess? Are you okay?"
"I'm quite fine, just discovered some alarming numbers with these invoices. I'm glad your shower was 'okay', my dear."
He picks up his cup, habitually using the string to stir the "teabag" around before taking a sip.
Shameful euphoria once again.
Doctor
He's the most knowledgeable on mensuration and the effects it has on the human body, but he's a bit out of touch in the social department. Often info dumping on you and unintentionally adding fuel to the fires of your mood swings. "Sweetie, you're only upset because of your luteal phase. Give it some more thought." He meets your mood swings with unshakeable logic that can just be infuriating at times, and other times it can be surprisingly sweet. "You usually crave these snacks on day 4 of your luteal phase, so I went ahead and got them all in advance." But he is a doctor after all, and his bedside manner could stand to use a bit of work. He'll examine you often and note any changes in your body, no matter how subtle they may seem. He'll give you supplements and vitamins to ease the cycles effects and if you happen to have any irregularities with you period prepare to have a cohesive answer within the first couple weeks after your first cycle.
All rational thought goes out the window the second he smells your blood, however. He notices even before you realize you need to start using period products. He urges you to try all period products, tampons, pads, diva cups, even free-bleeding, all so he can document the effects all of them have on you, your blood itself, and even him. Free-bleeding drives him the most crazed, followed by pads, then diva cups, the tampons.
The day he discovered the versatility of a diva cup is when his experiments with your cycle took a turn for more "discovery". Being able to collect blood samples naturally led to some interesting experiments. Separating plasma from the blood, analyzing the proteins in your period blood and comparing them to your regular blood, conducting experiments with alchemical reactions to your period blood, the list goes on and on with no shortage of curiosity, that is until it gets the better of him. The difference in taste between your blood and your menstrual blood was like comparing anatomy to neurology, and he needed a more thorough examination.
You were laying on your stomach watching something on your phone while your bedside Doctor was reconciling his notes. The heating pad doing wonders on your aching uterus, any cramps you had before becoming a distant memory. Sleep was slowly creeping up on you, lulling you into a sense of comfort for the first time in a while, all thanks to your attentive practitioner.
Until he suddenly stood up from his desk, his chair screeching before toppling over, glass vials jingling as they tapped against one another.
"D-doctor? Are you alright?" you stammered out, concern replacing your tranquility.
He turned towards you, his frame intimidatingly hovering over yours, it's not completely unusual for him to have an epiphany in his research, but it's definitely unlike him to treat his workstation so carelessly. You started to turn on your side before he firmly pinned your hip to the bed back onto the heating pad.
"I need more, Sweetie," his voice ragged as if he was winded from some unseen workout.
He pulled your pants off in one desperate motion, pulling your knee towards him before reaching into your depths to pull out your diva cup. The sudden motion causing you to gasp and clench against the silicone.
He carefully placed it on his desk, assuring it wouldn't topple before pulling you back onto your knees, his one hand holding the heat pad against your abdomen while his other roughly gripped the curve of your ass.
"I need to taste it from the source. I theorize your blood has more nutritional properties when it's freshest," he pants before taking off his mask and setting it next to you.
"W-wait, you've been drinking my-"
Fingers roughly plunge into your core, the sensation causing you to bury your face into the sheets and making your back arch away from him. He applies more pressure through the heat pad feeling your insides tighten around his fingers and watching the blood drip out of you, teasingly.
"I promise, sweetie, it's all for the name of science."
Hi my power got cut during a storm a few nights ago and left me sweltering in my room for four and a half hours with no sleep. Sooooo as I was trying to sleep and snuggle with my cat, I got the idea of the TFC members all being yanderes.
Right now only Pierrot, Harlequin, and Doctor's sections are fully finished, but I have a rough draft of Jester and Ticket Taker. I should ideally be done with them pretty soon! I've got a bit on my plate lately, haha.
Tag/notes: gn!reader. Yandere/poly circus. Dark themes. Unwilling!reader. Mentions of blood, kidnapping, murder, manipulation, attempts at grooming and forming stockholm syndrome, starving oneself, force feeding, drugging, needles, embalming, grieving, lots of noncon stuff (but not nsfw). Mildly edited, don't look at it too hard. I was very eepy while writing this at first(who's surprised) so hopefully this makes sense (^_^;) Lowkey might rewrite Harlequin's part one day. I don't hate it, but I think I could make a more unique and well-written segment.
You love them all, you really do, but not they way they need you to.
As much as you enjoy their shows and the kind things they've done to court you, you can't help but be scared of them. They're all intense and frightening in behaviors alone, but it's far worse when you learn about what they do behind the curtains. You've tried to ignore it, look past it, deny it, but you can't look away from the horrors that stare you right in the face.
So you pull away. For your safety and mental well-being, you begin to turn away from the circus members. The gifts that Pierrot give you are gently refused or returned. Any attempt at conversation from Harlequin is cut short and never returned to. The special treatment from Ticket Taker ends, yet you swear a human that carries his air is following you more often. Jester's sweet words don't pull you closer anymore, and the sight of Doctor's tent alone makes your stomach turn.
They all notice, and none of them like this. They know better than anyone else how to care for you, how to make you happy. Haven't they done that already? Don't you feel better with them around? You were so happy before, so why do you dare to leave them alone after all they've done for you?
Your behavior towards them changed, but that's okay. Patience is something comes well for creatures as old as they are. They'll take the time to correct you. Even if it means following you home, cornering you, covering your screams with their hand, and forcing a needle under your skin. You'll understand, you'll forgive. You always do.
The spare trailer will do nicely for you.
"Please, my love... Won't you look at me?"
Pierrot was beside himself with you. You wouldn't face him, didn't let him touch you, barely said a word to him, and resigned to curling up in the corner of your cot. Pierrot knew that you were unhappy with him, but you just needed time. He could be patient, he could wait for you to want his touch back, he could be soft with you. But... dear Lord, did he miss you.
He missed seeing your eyes and your beautiful smile. The warmth of your hands was beginning to feel like a distant memory, and seeing you all coiled in misery was tugging at his heart strings.
You were unhappy, and Pierrot, as delusional as he is, could understand why. Being plucked from your home and carted off with a circus to who-knows-where would shock anyone. But he's with you, his family is with you, so doesn't that make you feel better?
"... Jester says we're headed somewhere lovely. There's going to be warm weather, and lots of pretty views of the mountains. I could bring you some of the local treats, or maybe a magazine, orâ"
"I want to go home, Pierrot."
"..."
Your voice is so devoid of joy these days that it makes Pierrot feel sick. You don't understand that you're already home, that your previous life is meaningless now. Everyone has seen your missing photos, but you don't need to know if they care or not. He hates seeing you so miserable, but there's only so much he can do to try and cheer you up.
But then comes the hunger strike. Ticket Taker had warned Pierrot of this potentially happening, but he didn't want to believe it. Why would his darling refuse to nourish themself? He understands not having the best appetite when you're upset, but it's been going on for days now.
"Stopâ! Stop it!" You yell one day, pushing against Pierrot as he firmly holds your arm. He had made you a simple dish of porridge for you to eat, but you were still refusing, and Pierrot's patience was starting to slip.
"My dear, please, you have to eat something. This will be easy on your stomach, and you'll feel much better â I promise!" His grip on you was gentle yet unyielding. He didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't let this go on for any longer.
"Don't touch me, let me go! Get away from me, get the hell away!" The porridge falls off the spoon as you writhe and kick at Pierrot, but he barely notices it staining the blankets when you're trying to kick him in the head while pressing yourself against the wall. "Get AWAY! I hate you; I hate you so damn much! I hate all of youâ!"
Your words are gagged almost immediately as Pierrot nearly slaps you with how fast his hand covers your mouth. His eyes are crazed as his other hand slams into the wall, mere inches from your head. The terrible grate of claws against wood makes you flinch, though it's not nearly as frightening as Pierrot is now. His teeth, always so carefully shown without sharp points, were bared and gritted behind the mask.
"Stop. Talking. Don't say that don'tsaythatâ"
His breath catches as he stares down at you, barely breathing as anger burns his skin.
"You don't mean that, you don't. You know you don't, right? I love you so much, don't you say that you hate me, my dear. You're scared and upset, that I understand, but you must understand you needn't be. We love you so much, all of us. We want you happy, safe, and the only way that can be is if you're with us."
His claws are then pulled free while his hand finally moves away from your mouth. You don't make a sound. Pierrot's smile has not returned.
"Don't say that again. Not to me, never to me. You're upset; you don't understand how you feel... but I do. I understand you better than anyone else can hope to. You'll see that eventually."
Slowly, Pierrot turns away for just long enough to gather another spoonful of porridge from the bedside table. When you turn your head away once more, Pierrot's hand darts out to grab your jaw. He forces your jaw to open before shoving the spoon in your mouth. The metal clicks against your teeth painfully, and when it retreats, a large, clawed hand holds your mouth closed too firmly.
"Swallow it. Be good and eat."
The Troupe may be traveling away from your home, but after a couple of weeks being stuck in the trailer, you're willing to get out in the middle of nowhere. The few times you ask to come out to bathe or use the restroom within the trailer are spent with Harlequin at your side. Anyone who isn't driving the trucks or otherwise busy is watching you too, of course, but Harlequin has become your main chaperone.
Why? He's the fastest on foot and can see well in the dark, and with those "ropes" of his it's damn near impossible to escape him, and God knows you've tried. You've tried busting out through every window and door, and Harlequin has always caught you. He's gotten used to you fighting against his grip, and while he claims to adore the way you squirm, he can't ignore the sting in his chest.
"If you keep this up, you're going to make us think that you don't want to be here."
"I don't." The words are spat out as you bend this way and that to fight against Harlequin, but he's too strong. His arms pin yours against your chest tight enough to make you wheeze for a moment. Whether this was intentional or not, you can't tell.
"Hmn, don't be so sure, dear one. We can change your mind."
Your escape attempts were beginning to get you into trouble. The more you tried, the quicker Harlequin was to catch you, even if you tried to switch up your strategy. What made it worse was the light scolding and teasing that your got from him, which felt more and more condescending each time you were caught. But then you went a bit too far.
In a desperate yet planned attempt, you had played along for once when Pierrot had entered your room to try and get you to eat. You smiled at the boy, accepted the dinner with thankfulness, and dared to even let him touch you. You had finally come to your senses, you said. You finally understood that they all loved you, and he drank in every word with the most joy you've seen from him in weeks. Knowing he'd tell the others of your realization and therefore distract them, you asked him to fetch you seconds. The fooled boy couldn't be happier to do so, and in his overwhelming excitement, your door was left unlocked.
The night air bit at your skin as you ran for your life. The clothes on your back did little to warm you as trees flew past you, but the burning of your lungs and legs were enough for now. They had to be until you found something, anything, to hide away from those monsters. You saw that the trailers had passed a town a few hours ago, if you just hid among the trees for long enough, you might have a chance.
But of course, you can't dare to be that lucky, can you? Not when you feel hands and claws digging into your shoulders only minutes after sprinting into the trees. Loose twigs and rocks press into your chest and face as you fall to the ground, winded.
"Caught you, dearest."
You were gasping and choking on dirt while Harlequin pinned down your shoulders, having not a single labored breath escape him. You expected laughter, snide remarks, or the usual relentless teasing, but none of it came. His use of your petname even sounded flat.
"This is getting old, you know."
Harlequin sounds strangely calm as you feel him get off of you and stand up. You're still gasping for air, but you manage a wheeze of protest when you feel Harlequin pick you up beneath your back and knees. You reach up and hit his chest, kick as best you can in your stunned state, and squirm. When you bash your knuckles into his face once and then twice, a tendril wraps tightly around your wrist. In a flash, you feel your limbs being twisted roughly until your bound by your wrists and knees painfully. You can feel your pulse in your skin from how hard the pressure is, and you can almost feel your hands and legs grow tingly with the loss of proper circulation.
"Dearest," Harlequin doesn't look at you as he walks calmly back to the trucks. He is not smiling. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You run, and I catch you, and while it is a fun game... I'm bored of it."
The tendril around your knees tightens imperceivably as they begin to wind down your shins and calves.
"While I'm always up for tricking that mutt, I don't like all of us being tricked, dear one. You give us hope and joy, then run away from us? From me? And you call us cruel."
Your breathing starts to even out again as you watch Harlequin's face. His mask is lightly reddened from where you punched him, but his pointed grin had finally returned.
"Though I must admit, you've gotten me excited. You've made things so much livelier, but perhaps not in the way you'd like them to be. Oh, I wonder what Jester will say when I bring you back, or what expression will be on Bil's face. Hmhm... I almost want to stall, keep you here for a while, and just listen to your blood rush. After all, you seem so impatient for fresh air and green grass; perhaps I should let you enjoy it by crawling back like a kitten."
It turns out that your most recent escape attempt had worn down Jester's patience. Ticket Taker was nearly chomping at the bit to correct you, yet he held himself back under Jester direction. They were all angry, and while punishment was surely in order, discussion was needed. But amidst the debate on how to punish a frail human who was still so scared of them, Doctor had an idea.
During the early days of your travels, the ones where your tears were unstoppable, you had wailed about wanting your friends and family back.
"I have a life back home!' You yelled one day, recoiling from Jester's featherlight touch. "They're everything to me, and you took me from them!"
You were so alike the troupe with keeping your loved ones close, but Doctor found it a bit silly. Yes, your parents, siblings, and friends brought you joy, but how could you not see how they all paled in comparison? Five lovers who would protect you with their lives, would worship your every breath, would tear apart all that dared to snuff out your flame... Was that less than a mere parent or friend?
At first Doctor thought that your want for them would pass. The need for their comfort would wane as you got more used to your new, rightful life, yet it was taking longer than he expected. He heard you crying most nights, whispering their names and praying that someone, anyone, would come and save you âhow silly a want, to be "saved" from your partnersâ from this hell. It seemed that their presence alone brought you comfort, and if it were given, perhaps you'd be calm enough to come to reasoning.
So, while Jester and Ticket Taker spoke about how to handle your behavior, Doctor went to work. After getting the addresses of your family members from your missing posters, Doctor was quick to send a few letters. He mimicked your handwriting as best he could, writing out lines detailing that you were lost and needed them to come and find you. One might think it impossible for your family to run for you when you were nearly days away, but once the forged letters reached their homes, complete with a vague description of where the troupe you were, they flocked like moths to a flame.
The hunt was quick and effortless. The humans couldn't stand a chance against Doctor's claws and needles, yet he was careful. Your parents and a couple of your supposed friends were tied and brought back to Doctor's trailer where he quickly got to work. While away from your hateful gaze, and under the noses of the others, Doctor studied your loved ones.
Your family was weaker than he expected and completely unfit to protect you, their love for you seemed to diminish when they begged to be set free, and they were awful loud. So loud that he, regrettably, had to gag them with cloth so tightly that it cut into their cheeks. Every weakness they showed him only made Doctor wonder more about why you loved them. Of course, he can understand loving someone despite their faults, he has a family himself, but these humans were so... subpar in comparison.
"What a shame. I thought you would be more interesting." Doctor mumbled one night, flicking away bubbles from a syringe as your closest friend lay bound in horror. "But at least you will bring my sweetie some joy. I would love to see them smile again, and they seem to hold you all dear." The usual cyan flickered to crimson as Doctor held the head back of your friend while they writhed against their restraints. His grin could be heard in his voice as the needle pierced their skin.
"You'll bring me joy, too. I've always wanted to try embalming..."
_____
Your reaction to Doctor's gift was expected, yet greatly disappointing.
He had spent so much time getting it right, to make each of your friends and your parents to look lifelike and healthy despite their death, and you were hysterical. He knew that you would be shocked and disturbed at first, but even after you were shocked into complete silence, you didn't seem to understand his explanation.
"Sweetie, I thought that this is what you wanted. You cried so much for your friends and family, so I brought them to you. Of course, they couldn't be kept alive here, so I did the next best thing and made sure they would always be with you."
Your knees ached when you fell to the floor in anguish, too heartbroken and terrified to look away from the lifeless bodies of your loved ones. Their eyes were like glass while their lips were subtly stitched into smiles that used to comfort you. Color had lingered in their skin to leave them looking perfectly healthy, but they didn't move. They didn't breathe. They were nothing more than unblinking dolls.
Doctor sighed and knelt down beside you, brushing away your tears when devastation kept you still. "I am disappointed to see that you are so unhappy, but I think you'll come around to them. Look at it this way; you'll never be wanting your family back, because they will always be right here for you. As will I."
summary: trying to steal the gold necklace around his neck, you didnât realize that the man you were stealing from was a high-ranking police officer.
warnings: officer jungkook x thief reader, explicit sexual content, dead dove, cnc/dub-con, gun play, belt choking, usage of handcuffs, primal play, free use/rape, public sex, heavy degradation, manhandling, daddy, dom jk, clit rubbing, spitting, mock sympathy, condescending dirty talk, cum eating, pussy eating, blow job, usage whore & slut, praising, multiple orgasms, manipulation, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating penetrative sex, creampie.
Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."
Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"
A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.
The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned inâŚThere was a familiar gleam in her eyesâthe kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing.Â
"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."
You couldn't help but picture it.
Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.
You frowned, unease settling in your chest.
"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. âDoesn't that sound a little... dangerous?â
Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.
"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.
"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..."Â
She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their walletâor better yet, their credit cards."
A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.
The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.
Perhaps that's what desperation does.
It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.
Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.
"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."
A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.
"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."
Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."
You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.
Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.
"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."
You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.
You weren't born into wealthâŚfrom kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far.Â
College was different.
Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving.Â
So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.
Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.
Needs always came first.
Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.
Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.
Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth.Â
While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things.Â
The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.
You loved that life.
More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.
Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide.Â
You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complainedâŚnot onceâbut love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.
So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.
You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.
You really believed honest work would be enough.
Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.
You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford.Â
The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.
Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch.Â
For the first few months, you lived off your savings.
Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafĂŠs, convenience stores, restaurantsâany place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.
When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.
You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.
The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded.Â
Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.
The money came in. It left even faster.
And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.
It still wasn't enough.
Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.
For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due.Â
Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.
"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further.Â
It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.
Eventually, you stopped askingâŚbut you never stopped noticing.Â
One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat.Â
The following day, it would already be gone.Â
Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her.Â
It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth.Â
You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity.Â
Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.
She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.
What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival.Â
By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally didâit was simply how she made a living.Â
She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her.Â
You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass.Â
You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.
Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.
Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.
"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator.Â
She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board.Â
It sounded embarrassingly simpleâŚbut it wasnât.
Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.
Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.
Hanni, meanwhileâŚwalked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home.Â
You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.
She only laughed. "It gets easier."
You hated how right she was.
Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged.Â
Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most.Â
You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.
Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.
Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before.Â
Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.
"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud.Â
For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story.Â
You have no experience.
Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distanceâŚespecially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.
It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.
After all, you were still an amateur.
Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford.Â
While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.
Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.
According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying.Â
With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you.Â
The problem wasâŚyou had no idea how to do that.Â
You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.
Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.
"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at themâŚone cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."
You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanniâ"
"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.
"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.
Oh, you were doomed.
"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.
Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face.Â
Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.
Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."
You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.
Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease.Â
Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.
Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.
Which was almost funny.
Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelryâor anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.
"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.
You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.
You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.
The place was crowdedâŚnot just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.
Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.
You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest.Â
You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappearedâit only learned how to hide beneath your smile.
Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.
"Two draft beers, please."
The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.
Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.
"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.
You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.
Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.
Men were easier to distractâŚand according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.
"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.
Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though."Â
She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."
You frowned at her. âUgh, Hanni!â
Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.
There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties.Â
Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.
A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.
They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.
"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."
Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.
Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months.Â
While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.
Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten.Â
You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard.Â
But flirting? That was something entirely different.
Still...
You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.
The least you could do was try.
The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due.Â
You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.
"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."
Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"
She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.
"Cheers to that, baby."
The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.
EasyâŚsmile, flirt and steal.
After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nodâa silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to.Â
It was time.
You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachableâŚconfident enough to belong.
The barstool closest to their table sat empty.
You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.
Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervousâŚbut because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.
Observe.
A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.
Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.
Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one.Â
If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.
You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.
Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long.Â
One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Anotherâthe one with dimples that appeared every time he laughedâhad an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.
You kept looking.
Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.
Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt.Â
His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.
Then your gaze wandered lowerâŚa pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.
You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.
Target locked.
You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.
Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.
You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.
His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.
His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.
Your brows knitted together.Â
You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!
The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.
"Huh?"Â Â
His seat was empty!
Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.
"Looking for me?â a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.
Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.
Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignoreâthe silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.
The corner of his mouth curled upwardâŚamused.
As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.
"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.
What the fuck.
For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to buildâthey all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.
He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
"May I help you?"
Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.
"Hm?"
"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.
There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it.Â
Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for somethingâanythingâŚthat would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.
Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.
"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"
You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to.Â
When he took a step closer, your breath hitched.Â
His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentionalâŚor maybe it wasâbut suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.
"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.
The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck.Â
Before your courage had the chance to abandon youâŚyou slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.
"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.
Fuck, heâs so handsome up close!
His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.
Don't. Fake it until you make it.
"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.
"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."
The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.
As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck.Â
One careful movement...that was all it would take.
You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.
Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.
"Let's go to my car."
What?
"H-Huh? I..."
He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker.Â
"I can't fuck you here."
Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!
Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.
Fuck it.
You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was.Â
Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.
Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.
You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.
The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer houseâŚthe music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.
Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.
First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.
Second, you were not going to fuck him.Â
It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.
Your hormones could cry about it later.
Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.
He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.
"Get in."
He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside.Â
The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.
The hope didn't last.
The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin.Â
Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.
Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!
You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair.Â
Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.
A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.
The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.
For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.
His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up.Â
You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rushâŚthey drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.
âOpen your mouth wider,â he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neckâŚhis long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.
Your eyes widenedâŚone of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair.Â
Too distracted to obey his request⌠he suddenly tugged your hair harder.
A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunityâhis tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.
You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.
âMmph!â
A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.
âWhat are you doing?â he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap.Â
Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.
âHmm?â you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.
He tilted his head, studying you in silence.Â
The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.
âKiss me back,â he rasped.
A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.
You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.
To your surprise, he let youâŚhe didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.
Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you.Â
He wasn't following your lead.Â
âBaby...â he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. âYou're not kissing me properly.â
Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses.Â
Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation.Â
Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.
The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you.Â
He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.
Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.
Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like thisâhis kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs.Â
Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.
You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.
A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap.Â
Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.
âGrind on me.â he groaned.
Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.
âW-WaitââÂ
His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.
Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.
âRoll your hips, baby.â he grunted.
His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.
Your eyes squeezed shutâŚlosing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.
âThatâs it,â he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.
âOh, goshâŚâ you moaned.
You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.
His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.
Fuck, you were getting so wet.
Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat.Â
Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.
âOh my-â
His lips trailed lowerâŚyou sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.
âHmm... so soft,â he murmured.
Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.
A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.
âSpread my spit, baby.â his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. âI want you messy.â
He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.
You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you.Â
Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.
Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.
The necklace!
For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself.Â
You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.
Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.
His lips parted. âYou like it?â
You nodded. âHmmâŚâ
âWant more?â he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction.Â
Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.
Thenâthe clasp gave.Â
Relief crashed over you.
You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest.Â
Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.
"Ohhâ" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace.Â
"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.
His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.
âKeep grinding, baby.â he rasped.
Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties.Â
The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.
âMhm,â you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.
Wet sounds filled the carâthe slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric.Â
You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.
His wallet.
You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body.Â
A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.
âOuch,â you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.
He only chuckled against your skin.
The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.
âSlow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.âÂ
The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.
Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement.Â
Fuck, focus Y/N.
His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.
You rolled your hips against him againâŚanother soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you.Â
âOh myâŚâÂ
For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.
âBabyâŚâ he groaned harshly.
His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.
Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.
âI said stay still, fuck.â he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips.Â
Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.
A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together.Â
âKeep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,â he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.
âOh... gosh,â you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath.Â
Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.
His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.
Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.
Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"
You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.
"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"
Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.
A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.
He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.
"Swallow."
You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.
His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.
"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"
The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.
âL-Long time ago.âÂ
As if Y/N!Â
He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.
"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?â he whispered.
God, this was so wrong.
âMaybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.
"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.
The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.
"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."
A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.
"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.
He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.
Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.
"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.
You nodded desperately, âY-YesâŚâ
He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.
"You sure?"
"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.
Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.
A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.
The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.
âWell done, baby.â he praised.
Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.
Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.
Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.
"Iâm so proud." he whispered.
As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.
Your fucking mission.
You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.
"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.
You expected him to refuseâŚInstead, he simply nodded.
"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."
His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.
You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.
"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.
His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.
The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action.Â
You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water.Â
Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat.Â
Without wasting another secondâor even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.
With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart.Â
The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights.Â
This has to be high-karat.Â
Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.
Almost.
A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh.Â
Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside.Â
Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.
It was a gun.Â
What the fuck?
Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot.Â
You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.
"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.
For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bagâŚ.everythingâand pretending none of this had ever happened.Â
Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.
But it was already too late.
If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't braveryâit was stupidity.Â
And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.
With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view.Â
Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at allâit was a badge holder.Â
A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.
CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT
Rank: Captain | Name: Jeon Jungkook
For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you.Â
"F-Fuck! Oh Godâfuck!"
The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder.Â
Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last.Â
You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.
Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.
"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.
You froze.
Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears.Â
The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.
You had been fucking caught.
Not just by any random stranger.Â
But by a goddamn police captain.
"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.
"O-Officer, Iâ"
"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist.Â
The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.
He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.
"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."
A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments.Â
You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.
You had just thrown your entire life away.
âP-Please, I-ââ
"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"
You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistakeâ"
A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.
He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.
"Aww, look at youâŚso scared, baby." he cooed.
âI-Iâm sorry-â
âWant me to give you a chance?ââ he tilted his head.
Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.
Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.
"P-Please, Officer⌠I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and thatâ"
ââRun.âÂ
Your lips parted in disbelief.
"W-What?"
He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.
âRun, baby. Run as fast as you can.â his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."
Desperation made people do reckless things.Â
It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.
You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark.Â
People could help youâbut the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman.Â
They would see a thief.
A criminalâŚand they would hand you right back to him.
Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.
You never got the chance.
A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.
 âL-Let me go!â you cried.
The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard itâ
A sharp metallic clickâŚcold steel closed around your wrist.
You were handcuffed.
He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.
"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.
Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.
"Shh, itâs okayâŚ" he said in a mocking tone.
"I-Iâm sorry, pleaseâŚIâll do anythingâ"
The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.
âAnything, baby?â he whispered.
He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint.Â
Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.
His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.
"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.
âLet me play with you.â he murmured before diving in.
You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.
I am not enjoying this, I am not-
A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply.Â
You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.
When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.
âOpen up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,â he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.
You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.
When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.
You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.
A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling.Â
âW-What-â
"Spread your legs."
His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.
A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.
âOh, gosh!â you moaned.
You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.
âPretty.â he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. âDo you regret what you did, baby?â
His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.
âY-Yes,â you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.
âWould you let me do anything I want?â he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.
You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.
âYes.â you said in a tiny voice.
He chuckled, âYou wanted to be used like this, didn't you?âÂ
He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin.Â
âYou wanted thisâŚyou sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?â
You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.
He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.
Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.
"O-Officerâ"
âShh, you wanted me to catch you, didnât you? To rape your thief little pussy.â he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.
Desperation was a frightening thing.Â
It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.
When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.
"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.
"Y-Yes," you whimpered.
He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"
You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."
He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.
A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.
You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you.Â
Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue.Â
âF-Fuck-â you whimpered.
Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.
âMhm, you taste so good, baby,â he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.
A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.
His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.
âWanna steal more, baby?â
His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully.Â
He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.
You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.
âWhat do you want, baby?â he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. âMy money? My jewelry?â
âO-Officer-â
His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. âYou wanted all of it, didn't you?â
His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.
He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.
"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."
A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.
âFuck, you make me so fucking horny.â he grunted.
Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair.Â
"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."
You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.
He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.
His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.
âLook down and watch your clit, baby.â he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.
âP-Please...â you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.
âWanna be fucked so bad, huh?â
You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.
âOh! Mhmp!â you screamed.
His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.
âGonna fuck you good, babyâŚyouâve been a very bad girl.â he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. âNeed to fuck some sense into you, hmm?ââ
âMhmp!â you whimpered.
âShh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.â his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.
âAhhh!â you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.
He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring.Â
âFuck, youâre so tight.â he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.
âNeed to use this cunt every day. Maybe Iâll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?â he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.
âU-Ugh, p-please...â you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.
For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.
But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.
Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.
âBehave, baby.â he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.
The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.Â
âO-Oh, O-Officer!â a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.
A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.
âIs my baby enjoying this?â he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.
âThis is turning you on, huh?â
You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.
âWant me to stop?â he whispered.
âN-No, Officer.â you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.
âYeah? You like getting used?â
He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.
"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby⌠you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."
The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.
You thought he was done.
A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.
Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.
A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper.Â
âFuck, baby,â his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay openâŚyour body hanging limply in his grasp.
When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling.Â
âW-Wait-â you panicked.
A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.
He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth.Â
You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtierâ
A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.
Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.
You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.
As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.
"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward.Â
You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.
The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.
"Kneel for me."
Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.
"Open up, babyâŚdaddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.
"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."
The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.
"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."
He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.
"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."
He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.
"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.
He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.
"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis.Â
He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.
"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.
You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.
He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"
You poutedâŚyour cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum.Â
âMhm..âÂ
âMhm?â he chuckled.
He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. âCute.âÂ
Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.
"Gurkâgurkâ"
You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.
"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."
He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.
You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.
âIâm gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.â
A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.
"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."
Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.
A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.
A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.
You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught.Â
Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.
Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.
He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.
Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long whileâbuying you the time to find a better path for yourself.
You hadn't even told Hanni about them.
Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.
He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.
From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.
No high-ranking police officerâespecially not a captainâŚwould've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.
Why did he let you?
You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.
Perhaps you hadn't changed.
Because here you were, stealing againâŚchasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.
Maybe you wanted to see him again.
You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.
You had been stealing for six months now.Â
You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end storeâyour usual targets where men were rarely involved.
Tonight, you decided to try flirting againâŚattempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.
Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.
Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.
Your eyes widened.
Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs.Â
Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocketâit all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.
Power looked infuriatingly good on him.
Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.
âLooks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?â
Warnings: sex with your ex, established relationship, mafia/assassin jeongguk, guns, unprotected sex, dirty talk (i think?), fingering - f receiving, oral - f receiving, he eats the kitty from the back, toxic and annoying jeongguk again, this manipulating ass man i lowk hate him, getting manhandled by jk, me talking about how HUGE jk is, size difference, brat taming, slight choking, spitting, invasion of your privacy meaning heâs snooping through your work computer, power play but not really bc reader folded like a pretzel too fast, and again, the two of them just being dumb.
Word count: 19,743
Summary: Some ghosts don't haunt houses. They haunt people.
Cross posted on AO3
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Other work: Make Me Water - JiKook x Reader
I Got Ways - Part 1
I Got Ways - Part 2
***Honestly I have no other reason for making a part 3 except for the fact that I'm super easy and I fall for anyone that gives me praise. I'm like a wild rabid starving animal for it. So, for those of you that complimented my writing, this is for you. Look what you've done! You did this! Also, I edited this a thousand times but I kept getting distracted so I apologize for the errors. I know I'm gonna kick myself when I read this shit in the morning and see all the mistakes. I'm sorry***
Inspired by:
Jeongguk killed the engine to his motorcycle. The roar fading into the busy pulse of the city.
Traffic rolled through the intersection without pause. A crowded bus hissed to a stop at an even more crowded bus shelter. Car horns echoed somewhere further down the street. Salary men and women hurried by with coffees and briefcases in their hands while a group of laughing teens lingered outside a store.Â
This city was completely unaware of the violence that often moved amongst them unnoticed.
Jeongguk pulled off his helmet. Running a hand through the black strands of hair flattened by the ride before peeling off his leather gloves one finger at a time.Â
Sharp eyes scanned his surroundings while his attention never left the gallery across the street at the same time. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes while he leaned back on the seat of his bike. The leather seat groaning with his weight. He adjusted the glasses that blocked out the sunrays. Black rims. Black lenses. Just like the graveyard his soul lived in.Â
A quiet crackle sounded in an earpiece resting within his ear canal and Jeongguk sighed out, "We need to wrap this shit up before six." He murmured, fingers at his ear to adjust the nearly microscopic piece of technology lodged comfortably in the space.Â
From somewhere else far in the city, ę°ěě (Gamsija or The Watcher) snorted into the earpiece, "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You gotta go walk Pebbles and have dinner with your girlfriend on her balcony. Busy man you are."
"Shut up." Jeongguk grumbled as he shoved his gloves into a compartment behind his seat and swung a leg off his bike as he stepped off, âSheâs not my girlfriend anymore.â He continued, hands on the handles of the bike and pivoting it while he deployed the kickstand.Â
"No?"
"No."
The Watcher hummed right into the earpiece then out came a snap of laughter, "Yeah. Suuuuuure. Okay." He sighed out dreamily and Jeongguk heard him shuffling papers around before he continued, âThose home cooked meals I see you inhaling could say otherwise.â And right on queue, the rustling of a bag could be heard opening from the other end of the feed, âIâd kill for a warm meal.â The Watcher crunched into his mic with his mouth full.Â
Jeongguk didn't even bother denying what The Watcher said. There wasnât any use in lying when the eyes of Haegeum saw everything anyways. He could have come up with a remark. Using his sharp tongue to quip back an insult but in reality, he was just not in the mood today for jokes. Instead, he started to make his way to the art galleryâs entrance. Eyes catching his reflection moving through the large windows of the building.Â
There was something inherently menacing about the way Jeongguk carried himself. With his head held high. Stride unhurried. Just⌠Terrifyingly sexy.Â
Being large and in charge was one thing but the way he looked was another. His appearance resembled the ghosts the underworld spoke of in hushed voices. A specter woven into the city's underbelly. Seen only by those unlucky enough to cross his path.Â
The quiet through his earpiece lasted for about twenty seconds before he heard the sputter of static again and then that annoying, grating voice came through, "Sooo... you and Shadow good again? Back together maybe? Finally? Hopefully?"
Jeongguk exhaled through his nose sharply and didnât answer. He didnât even acknowledge the questions. He did a good job with ignoring the annoying little voice coming through his earpiece. Mostly because Gwishin and Gamsija had been working together for well over a decade. Their brotherhood and friendship stretched far beyond just work and quite frankly, Jeongguk had grown used to having that voice rambling in his ear. So, he did what he knew best. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. And hope The Watcher would give up.Â
He pushed open the gallery doors and stepped inside into cool air and muted light. The hush of meticulous silence swallowed the street noise behind him. Dulling the bustle of the city life completely.Â
The earlier question was left hanging in his earpiece like a thread he refused to touch because Jeongguk couldn't call anything the two of you were doing getting back together per se since that would imply the two of you had never truly been broken up in the first place.Â
But ever since the night he was ordered to walk Mrs. Greyâs dog, he somehow ended up coming back to your place and staying for dinner afterwards. Then he found himself back there almost every evening since. Sometimes for a meal. Sometimes for a drink. Sometimes just to sit outside on your balcony in comfortable silence while the city buzzed beneath you both. All under the guise that he had to walk a damn dog.Â
He never spent the night. Never overstepped any imaginary boundary between the two of you either. Jeongguk knew better than that. He had never been the type to reach for things he knew he shouldnât have... No matter how badly he wanted them.Â
And with you, he was always careful. Careful with his words. With his hands. With the way his eyes hung onto you when you werenât looking. He never asked for more than what you gave him. Never tried to turn an evening into morning. Or a quiet visit into something more.Â
There were no conversations about labels. There were no promises. There was simply an unspoken understanding that, when the day was over, Jeongguk knew exactly where he wanted to be. It felt... good. Different. But good.Â
"I take your silence as confirmation." Came that voice through his ear again.Â
Jeongguk again offered no response. He simply kept walking. His gaze stayed fixed ahead as he continued down a corridor. The earpiece remained quiet for a moment, the voice on the other end apparently accustomed to his lack of response.
Silence had always been easier. People filled silence with whatever they wanted to believe and Jeongguk had long since learned there was power in letting them decide. And the voice in his ear piece never pressed him for more. The Watcher simply accepted the absence of an answer for exactly what it was meant to be.
"I'm just sayingâŚ" The Watcher continued, "I know everything. There's a reason they call me what they do."
Jeongguk sighed under his breath, "You don't know everything."
"I know enough. I know that you parked outside the gallery on the corner near a run down hardware store. Between a blue shitbox and a stop sign. I know you already got three security guards inside. Oneâs pretending to read a brochure by the east entrance. Aaaand I know you're exactly thirteen minutes ahead of schedule."
The Watcher had earned his nickname for a reason. If Haegeum needed to know something, their eyes already did. The Haegeum Network stretched across the city the same way veins pulsed beneath skin. Information flowed to The Watcher before most people even realized it existed.
Unfortunately, the gift came attached to a man whose voice always grated Jeonggukâs ears. He never knew how to shut up. Never knew boundaries and certainly did not care that he pushed past the point of professionalism when it came to Jeongguk. Or any of the other Haegeum members for that matter.Â
He had a voice that drifted through the earpiece like a siren's song. Smooth enough to make anyone listen. And sharp enough like the tongue of a viper carrying venom.Â
And aside from all of the one sided yapping, The Watcher wasnât someone to mess with. He had the skills of a mad scientist when it came to using technology. And the face of an absolute angel. With long blonde hair. Full lips. A cute crooked front tooth. And rosy cheeks to match. Jeongguk often wondered why he didnât pursue the career of being anything fucking else rather than joining The Network. But alas, there was never a reason to join Haegeum. You were simply born into it.Â
"You ever think about talking less?" Jeongguk snapped.Â
"Never.â
Jeongguk's jaw tightened and flexed before he grunted out, "Don't ask me about her."
That answer was enough. But not enough to shut The Watcher up completely. A knowing grin spread across The Watcherâs face despite Jeongguk being miles away and then another question came through the feed of his earpiece,Â
"Does she know you're here?"
"No."
"Gonna join her lecture again?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Jeongguk's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. Across the hall, the man he had been waiting on finally emerged from the gallery's side entrance, speaking into his phone as he headed toward the main hall.
The mission had started.
"Gotta go."
The line went dead before The Watcher could squeeze in another question. He laughed to himself anyway. Jeongguk had answered "no" a little too quickly both times. That usually meant the answer wasn't nearly as simple as he wanted it to be.
Jeongguk adjusted his sunglasses as he moved forward, expression stoic. The lenses over his eyes darkened as they activated from The Watcherâs side. A faint pulse syncing immediately with the feed so that The Watcher could see everything through Jeonggukâs eyes.Â
The world shifted and then his sight doubled. Mirrored through The Watcherâs system somewhere across the city. And inside the earpiece after another three whole seconds of silence came a slow, appreciative hum followed by a ââŚDamn.â
âCan you see properly?â Jeongguk asked with a flat voice.Â
âOhhh yeahhhhh. Crystal.â Watcher replied, distracted for a second by Jeonggukâs reflection in a mirror hanging along the galleryâs wall, âGot your feed. Got the whole gallery. Even got your target breathing too loudly on your six.â Then Watcher added because he simply couldnât help himself, âBut seriously? How are you that built?â
Jeongguk finally tilted his head slightly, adjusting his jacket as he stepped closer to the receptionâs desk, âMan, can you shut up and focus?â
âOh, I am focusing.â Watcher said immediately. His voice sounding offended on principle, âIâm focusing on the fact you look like youâve gone full borg.â
Jeongguk clicked his tongue, âStop playinâ games.â He spat. Behind his sunglasses, his reflection shimmered faintly through the mirror in front of him and his lips twitched just a smidge. Full borg. What a nerd. He let out a disgruntled sigh and then said, âJust keep your eyes on the damn building.âÂ
Gamsija laughed softly, still watching him through every available angle of the city before he hummed out, âBoss, I am the fucking building.â He shrilled with laughter, his voice sliding back into that effortless Watcher cadence, âI am the eyes of this city.â
âYeah, whatever.â Jeongguk grumbled. Eyes on the array of priceless art pieces hanging along the walls of the gallery with a look of distaste spread across the canvas of art that was his own face.Â
Jeongguk fucking hated art. He hated the silence. Hated the beige walls. And he truly hated the pretentious little plaques beside every painting that somehow took two hundred and fifty words to explain what could have been summed up in three simple words, it's fuckinâ trash.
And he especially hated art galleries. Which was unfortunate because he had been coming to this one every Wednesday and Friday for the past six weeks.
He looked completely out of place here yet he managed to blend in seamlessly with the crowds at the same time. With his black combat boots thundering against the polished floors. Tight black jeans showing off muscular thighs. A fitted black t-shirt glued to his abdomen and making every ridge and dip of muscle show. Worn beneath a sleek leather jacket that had seen more nights than mornings. Dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose despite the gallery being flooded with natural light. He hardly took the sunglasses off. Never indoors. Certainly not outdoors. Not in meetings. And not even when the sky was fucking grey.Â
And of course, on his face the Gwishin wore a frown. A very deep frown that almost looked like a scowl. A resting bitch face if you wanted to call it that.Â
He always looked unimpressed. Unchanging. Bored. But Jeongguk was far from that. What looked like an unbothered exterior had thousands of thoughts running through his head. Mapping out exits. Security. You know the drill.Â
See, people noticed Jeongguk no matter what but no one really ever struck up a conversation with him unless they had a death wish. Except for the pretty receptionist sitting at the front desk Jeongguk was walking up to. The one that always straightened her spine to push her gigantic boobs up higher and smiled with those dark red lips a little wider every single time she saw him,Â
"Back again, Mr⌠Joonam Kim?" She smiled brightly, teetering on the edge of her seat to get a better look of him as he walked up to the counter.Â
Yes, the name he used every Wednesday and Friday for the past month was Mr. Joonam Kim. Like hell he was going to walk around telling people his real name. He had his fellow Haegeum members to use for that. He knew his teammate wouldnât mind the play on his name. It was all part of the fun of the job. Whatever fun meant to Jeongguk anyway.Â
His mouth barely twitched hearing the name. While the voice in his earpiece barked out a laugh right in his ear that almost made Jeongguk cut the line entirely. He let the pause between him and the receptionist stretch just long enough to make her feel uncomfortable.Â
The silence was long enough for her to wonder if she had gotten his name wrong. He stared at the receptionist through the tint of his sunglasses. Watching the way she squirmed almost uncomfortably or maybe hornily under his hidden gaze. Then he gave her a lazy, âMmm.â in response with a smooth, uninterested nod.Â
Joonam Kim was a mask. An easy one. An easy name that no one asked questions about. And a forgettable name that no one remembered after. But today wasnât even a Joonam day.Â
Today had a target in mind. Today had a goal. Today was work.Â
And how much of a coincidence was it that his work for the last six weeks started at the place you were the director and main lecturer of? The world was smaller than Jeongguk thought, wasnât it.Â
He adjusted his sunglasses slightly out of habit. A movement that hid the way his eyes were already tracking the room beyond the receptionistâs shoulders before speaking again, âIâm here for lecture four.â He added casually, already turning away before she could respond.
âNo problem, Mr. Kim! Down the hall and to your left. Exhibition room number seven. The lecture starts in six minutes.â She chirped with a smile, clearly pleased he was still within conversational reach.
The unsuspecting receptionist thought he was one of your regulars. A man who had developed an unexpected appreciation for art after listening to one of your lectures. The rest of the staff that saw him twice a week thought the same.Â
Nobody questioned why the tattooed man dressed entirely in black wandered the exhibitions and joined your lectures on those specific days before quietly slipping out the exit doors like he was never there.
Nobody questioned why he never spoke. Never took notes. Never looked at the art work you were discussing for more than a few seconds. The truth was simple. Jeongguk couldn't tell a fucking soul the difference between any kind of art if someone strapped a bomb to his chest and asked him to.
If you tested people on every lecture you had ever given, Jeongguk would fail miserably. On purpose. And that was simply because the only masterpiece Jeongguk ever been truly interested in⌠was you. That was just the easy fucking truth.Â
Jeongguk didnât answer the receptionist. Instead, he turned and made his way down the hall to the left without another word just as directed. He knew where the lecture was being held anyways. But he had to play the part.Â
And as he entered through the gallery doors, a gush of wind followed behind him. Making the trail of his scent follow behind him. Leaving the air smelling like wood, motor oil and leather. Inside the lecture hall revealed yeah, more boring ass white walls. More boring art. And best of all, silence mimicking sophistication. His favourite. That was sarcasm.Â
âKnew you would join the lecture.â Came The Watcherâs voice with a snicker. Â
âIf you say one more thing, Iâm gonna shove an ice pick through those eyes.â Jeongguk grunted, âReal slow.âÂ
The call went silent at once and Jeonggukâs shoulders eased instantly and he rolled his muscles back then stretched his neck. He strolled through the lecture room like he didnât care to be there. Why the fuck should he pretend about that part? It didnât matter anyway. His elusiveness just made it easier for him to blend in although his appearance could say otherwise. People simply thought he was a lover of art. Perhaps a curator. Or maybe a buyer with a fat wallet.Â
And as he moved, his steps didnât stray when he briefly passed the art showcasing the walls. He pretended to seem interested. A hand under his chin. Nodding in thought as though the century old paintings on the walls gave him some sort of outward perspective of the new world. He pretended to know whatever the hell Cubeism was as he passed by the next display. From behind his glasses, his eyes rolled. Deeply.Â
Every step he took was made with precision. Careful calculation. He was so good at faking interest that the thought of becoming an actor as a side gig made his pierced lips twitch considerably. He almost laughed at his own joke. See? He could be funny.Â
Jeongguk was in his element. Moving with perfect ease because today, he actually wasnât even âJoonam Kim.â
Today, he was⌠A curatorâs clipboard brushed past his elbow and interrupted the thought, âSorry! Oh~! Misterââ The woman said quickly, glancing up at him.
Jeongguk tilted his head slightly. It was the smallest polite gesture he could manage. And without hesitation he answered with a different name entirely, âJinseok Kim.â The words were clean. Busan accent hidden. No strain. As though the name always belonged to him. Even though the name belonged to yet another one of his men. Sorry not sorry.Â
Names were never real to The Haegeum Network.Â
At least not in the way people meant them.
Names were tools. Temporary labels stitched onto moving bodies so the world had something comfortable to call them before it forgot them all over again. âJoonam Kim. Jinseok Kim.â And four others before that. Each name was clean. Each one unremarkable. Carefully built and just as carefully erased.Â
Nothing about Haegeum was allowed to stick to outsiders. There could be no trace. No pattern. No repetition that could linger in a personâs brain before the thought could form. The names werenât just aliases⌠they were dead ends.
The names were backstories that existed only long enough to pass a glance. I.Ds that wouldnât survive a second verification. Credit histories that dissolved the moment someone tried to dig too deep. Paper trails that looped back to nothing. Digital footprints that scattered into contradictions the second they were followed.
Those false identities didnât just hide Haegeum. They simply never existed outside the Network itself. That was the point. They didnât use fake names the way others did. They rotated through them like revolving doors. One closing just as the next opened. All so that if someone thought they had found a pattern, they were already wrong by the time they noticed it.
And Gwishin himself and the rest of his members stayed untouched at the center of it all. In Haegeumâs world, being remembered was just another way of being tracked. And they had no intention of ever being found.
He gave a faint hum in response to the curator and just like that, Jinseok faded into nothingness. He made his way to the empty back row of the lecture room. Exactly how he liked it. It was an old habit that couldnât seem to die.Â
From the back of the room, much like at The Seven Devils, Jeongguk could see every entrance and exit. Every face that walked into the room. From where he sat with his back pressed into the wooden chair he took a seat on, nobody could surprise him. Nobody could get behind him.Â
Years serving Haegeum had turned paranoia into instinct and it was a habit he didn't even think about anymore. He chose the seat because it gave him the best line of sight. His sunglasses stayed on. His leather jacket never came off. And a pair of strong arms folded across his wide chest while one ankle lifted to rest over the opposite knee.Â
He watched as the room slowly filled around him. Noticing a few familiar faces of people who never missed one of your lectures.
Soon enough the chatter softened. Then stopped. The doors opened one final time. And then you walked in. That was the only part of the day where Jeonggukâs resolve cracked slightly because suddenly, sitting through an hour of an art discussion didn't seem so unbearable after all.
His expression didnât change. He still looked like another attendee waiting for the lecture to begin. Only Gwishin knew better. He wasn't here for the paintings. Or the lecture. Or even you. Not officially at least.
Jeongguk was here for the man that sat four rows ahead to his right. Dressed in a black suit. Gold watch on his wrist. Wedding band. Late forties. Handsome. Expensive. The sort of face that disappeared into a crowd by design.
His next target.
Jeongguk had memorized him months ago. His name. His routine. He had memorized the way the man always checked the calendar on his phone before putting it on silent. The way he favored his lower back when he sat down. He memorized the fancy car he drove. The way he always seemed to park right at the front of the gallery as if he owned it. The way the faint scar at the corner of his lower lip raised each time he smirked.
To anyone else, the man was just another attendee. But to Jeongguk? He was work.Â
A tattooed hand rubbed over his jaw as his gaze drifted over the room without ever settling too long on any one person. He noted the exits to his left and right. His target. The large bay window behind the front of the speakerâs podium. His target. The security cameras in the four corners of the room. His target. The fire escape doors all the way in the back. His target.
It was a rhythm. A dance. A habit. A life.
Throughout the gallery, life kept breathing. But in front of Ghost, the hunt had already begun.
The target never noticed him because Jeongguk simply looked like another man sitting through an art lecture the same reason why everyone else in the room did. He was invisible. Patient. Haunting.Â
When you walked up to the speakerâs podium you smiled at your audience as though this was just another afternoon. And thatâs when Jeongguk's attention slipped yet again.Â
It was only for a second. But it slipped long enough to watch you set your binder full of notes onto the podium and then tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. The sharp eyes behind tinted sunglasses tracked your silhouette as you moved. His jaw flexed as his gaze drifted to the form fitting black dress stopping at your knees. Black blazer buttoned at the front. Black kitten heels. Sleek framed glasses perched on your nose. Hair pulled back in a neat knot at the back of your nape.Â
Professional. Fucking sexy.Â
Jeongguk caught himself immediately. He silently dared The Watcher to even utter a comment and luckily, nothing came through his earpiece. He refocused on the man in the black suit next. Eyes narrowing. Arms crossing. Knee bouncing rhythmically. Jaw flexing.Â
Work first. Always.
Even if the only person capable of distracting Gwishin had just walked into the room.
"Good afternoon, everyone." Your voice carried effortlessly through the lecture hall. The kind of voice that made people want to listen. The audience settled and the man in the suit crossed one leg over the other while he leaned back in his chair.
Jeongguk noticed the manâs intrigue on you faster than anything else. His eyes stayed on the back of his head. His targetâs posture was relaxed and comfortable. Absolutely no awareness of his surroundings while The Ghost already clocked three escape routes the man would likely take if something happened.
The target had no idea he had been profiled before you had even introduced yourself.
You began speaking about the exhibition with the same enthusiasm you always did. Moving across the room with ease. Hands painting invisible pictures in the air as you spoke. People smiled. Some laughed. Others took notes. Jeongguk, on the other hand, tried not to yawn.Â
Even the target seemed interested in what you were talking about. But Jeongguk wasn't. His attention drifted between your voice and the man rows ahead. And every few minutes, the target checked his watch. Then he glanced toward the emergency exit. Finally, he discreetly texted someone with his phone between his legs.Â
Jeongguk filed each detail away. Then the man's phone vibrated again but this time, instead of reading the message, he looked up. He wasnât looking at the painting behind you. Or at the presentation. He was looking at you. And his ogling strayed for a bit too long. Long enough for Jeongguk to notice. And long enough for the muscles in his jaw to tighten considerably. The target wasn't listening anymore. He was watching you.
Jeongguk's thumb brushed over the hidden lining of his leather jacket instinctively. Tattooed fingers running over where the weight of a pocket pistol sat. He didn't reach for the weapon. Didn't move. He simply watched the man because Haegeum had sent him here to study a target. Not to conduct business. Not to intervene.
However as the man continued staring at you instead of paying attention to the lecture, Jeongguk felt something murderous settle beneath the center of his chest. Was the staring professional curiosity? Personal interest? Or maybe both.
Either way⌠The lecture had just become a lot more interesting.
And as it dragged on, Jeonggukâs eyes never failed to leave the manâs profile. From what he gathered from his late nights of studying his targets at The Seven Devils, the man was a philanthropist according to every magazine that loved printing his face. He was a collector according to the museums that gladly accepted his money too. A generous patron of the arts if you will.
Haegeum knew a different man. This man was a broker. The kind who never got his own hands dirty. He bought and sold more than paintings. He bought information. Influence. People. Entire lives were negotiated over expensive alcohol and hushed conversations. He had spent decades hiding behind his fancy tailored suits and museum donations. Convincing the world he was preserving history.
But in reality, he was building an empire with blood money disguised as culture. Which was exactly why The Haegeum Network wanted him gone. It wasnât going to happen today. Surely not in the gallery either. Today wasn't an execution. It was simply surveillance. Learning patterns and habits. Finding weaknesses.
Jeongguk wasn't here to kill the man. He was just here to learn how he lived because once Gwishin knew how a man lived, he already knew how he would die. It was just a matter of time. And the Ghost had plenty of that.Â
The lecture finally dissolved into the rhythm of an ending. Guests stood and drifted between the galleries in slow moving clusters. Some stopped to revisit paintings that had taken on new meaning after your talk. Questions hung in the air. Conversations overlapped. And the quiet museum transformed into a gentle hum of footsteps, laughter and thoughtful discussion.
You stayed near the front of the podium long after the lecture had ended. Answering every question with patience. Smiling for every guest who stopped to thank you and carrying yourself with the same effortless professionalism that had held the room's attention from the moment you began.
That was when the target made his move.
You didn't notice him at first. Why would you? There was a good hundred people attending the lecture alone. Nevertheless, he blended seamlessly into the handful of guests still waiting to speak with you. Offering a compliment about the lecture before asking a thoughtful question about an upcoming exhibition. And by the time the conversation drifted from your work to whether you would let him take you lunch today, he had already stepped comfortably into your space. Just a little too comfortably.
âYouâre even more impressive in person.â The target complimented you, his voice lowering slightly, âIâd love to take you out to lunch. Somewhere quieter. I think you would be even more interesting outside all this⌠noise.â He waved with his hands.Â
Jeongguk was close enough to hear it all and somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he began to move too. It wasnât abrupt. And not in a way that drew attention. He simply stepped away from the wall and threaded through the thinning crowd with an unhurried pace. His presence invisible by the movement of everyone else. Until he wasn't. Until he passed behind you. Close enough that the space around you seemed to narrow.
The faint scent of leather drifted by. Followed by a warmth that strayed for only a heartbeat before continuing on. It wasn't a touch but your body reacted anyway. And your words caught for the briefest moment. A strange sense of awareness washed over you. It was impossible to explain and it felt as though a ghost had just touched you.
By the time you glanced over your shoulder, there was nothing to see except another guest disappearing into the crowd. Strange⌠it felt like⌠You shook your head, eyes glancing down at the binder against your chest, scanning through the list of attendees. No Jeongguk. Of course not. He would rather die than be here. Still, you could feel his presence crawling through you even as you tried to shake it off.Â
Jeongguk didnât look back but he heard your voice faint through the noise. Talking about lunch options with the target. You were so polite and unaware, wrapped up in an ease that didnât match the tension he had just stepped through.
He adjusted his pace, already recalculating his next moves in his mind then he exited the hall without hesitation. Outside of the lecture hall where the glass walls of the gallery reflected the city back at him, he disappeared again, only this time circling around a hall to head straight toward your office upstairs.
He slipped past a pair of security guards in the middle of a conversation. His shoulders brushing one of them just enough to be mistaken for a passing guest. None of them reacted. No one ever did until it was too late anyway.Â
Jeongguk made his way to a side door marked STAFF ONLY that sat partly hidden behind a display. He twisted the doorknob and hummed to himself as it unlocked. Too easy. He pushed through it and let the gallery die behind him as he entered into a cold, empty stairwell.Â
And next, he was moving. Up a flight of stairs. Two and three steps at a time like always. Combat boots striking hard against metal edges. His breath steady. The kind of movement that looked reckless but wasnât because it was Jeongguk.Â
In his ear, The Watcherâs voice returned quickly, âSo lunch, huh? He really wants to die.â
Jeongguk didnât slow. His hand gripped over the stairwell rail tight as he climbed the next flight, âFuck off.â He muttered, âItâs nothing.â He huffed, âJust lunch.âÂ
The Watcher hummed into his ear, âYour heart rateâs climbing.â He added, âBlood pressureâs rising to one thirty over ninety. You sure itâs nothing?â The Watcher snickered, âBetter take a breath before you pop a blood vessel.âÂ
Jeongguk took another flight two at a time. His hand grazing the railing just long enough to pivot faster, âYouâre about to be out of a fucking job.â He huffed as he reached the floor where your office was. He quickly punched in the code to enter. 4 simple numbers. Yours and his anniversary date. It was easy enough to guess without needing The Watcher to tell him and he wasnât even slightly surprised that you never changed it either.Â
Your office was eerily quiet. It felt wrong to be in there. But not wrong enough to Jeongguk since he closed the door behind him easily and made his way over to your desk as though he had done this dance far too many times for it to be a new routine.Â
He took a seat at your desk and scanned the room. He had been in here for other reasons before. Reasons you didnât need to know about. The atmosphere was still the same. Boring. Plain. Professional. But the scent in the air was unmistakably you. It was like you spritzed your perfume in there before leaving. Jeongguk inhaled deeply. Letting the scent fill his lungs. He allowed himself those few moments to wrap himself in the sweet floral and vanilla scent that was you and then he was working.Â
Quick fingers were moving over your computerâs keyboard with efficient intrusion at once. Files opened and closed. Eyes scanning over any kind of new information that could give shape to the man who had been standing too close to you just a few minutes ago.
âThis just got personal, didnât it.â Said The Watcher through the earpiece and Jeongguk cursed him with a whisper while he scrolled through a file sheet filled with donation reports.Â
âWork isnât personal.â Jeongguk mumbled although his blood boiled as the image of the man approaching you played in his mind, âI never mix work with my personal life.â He said as he clicked over a document and opened up another file.Â
The cursor hovered over the targetâs name and Jeongguk highlighted the cell, eyes following the grid to the end where it showed the amount of money the man had donated to the gallery this year alone. It was all blood money under the guise of donations. The target was laundering cash into your gallery and you had no fucking idea.Â
At first, it was only work. It always started that way. But the man just couldnât help himself, couldnât he. Jeongguk didnât need to be a fucking genius to know the intentions his target had.Â
Maybe the man asked you to lunch because he wanted to increase his donations. Maybe he wanted to fuck you. Jeongguk didnât know or care. Either way, the man had to die so whether he flirted with you or not didnât matter to him. It only made the thought of ending his life settle deeper into Jeonggukâs soul. The only thing that made him grit his teeth the most was that he just had to let it all fucking happen because he couldnât unleash himself upon the man⌠yet.Â
The screen of your computer blinked at Jeongguk and he leaned back in the chair he had been sitting in. Exhaling through his nose and tilting his head to the side as he cracked his neck.Â
The Watcherâs voice hummed through his earpiece as casual as ever, âYum. Peach iced tea⌠with a lemon wedge.â He noted, âGood choice.â He mused and Jeongguk could hear the click of his keyboard under fast fingertips, âCheck outside the window on your west.âÂ
Jeongguk was still staring at the computer screen but his attention was already elsewhere long before The Watcher had said anything. He stood up at once and the chair scraped across the floor. Echoing through the silence of the office as though the sound marked every single one of his twisted decisions.Â
He crossed the room without hurry. His footsteps quiet against the floor as he stopped by the window. Below the gallery and across the street, a posh upscale restaurant sat in full view. And you were there on the patio. Under the sun and in perfect view for Jeongguk to survey you with his unfortunate target.Â
The Watcherâs voice continued in his ear as amused as ever, âA bit too early to be drinking wine for our target, isnât it? â He said, âAlthough I guess it might be five o'clock somewhereâŚâ He trailed off, âHeâs not really drinking it. More just holding the glass like itâll make him look more interesting.â He snorted, âLoser.âÂ
Jeonggukâs gaze didnât move. He watched from above. Barely making out your hand lifting your drink to your lips slightly as you spoke. His eyes strayed to the side, noticing the way the sunlight drifting in through the brushes of the trees lining the patio caught the colour of your hair and the side of your face before falling away again, âKeep watching and see if you can dial in to listen.â He instructed The Watcher.Â
âOn it, boss.âÂ
He watched the man with intensity. Surveying the scene as far as his eyes could see. He saw the grey specks of hair from his target and the way his body leaned in towards you more than necessary. Close enough that Jeongguk didnât even need audio to know what was being said.
The Watcher provided it anyway, âWow.â He commented dryly, âYeah, so he just made it personal.âÂ
Jeongguk didnât ask what was said. He didnât need to know.Â
The details werenât the point anymore.Â
Only the direction things were heading mattered.Â
Dark eyes stayed locked on the space between you and the target then narrowed at the distance dwindling between the two of you. He observed the close comfort between two strangers that didnât belong there. The assumption that nothing would interrupt it. He exhaled to himself, âKeep the feed on them.â He commanded without looking away from the window.
Jeongguk watched you both for a moment longer while measuring everything in silence. The office behind him faded from relevance entirely. Everything warped together into two bold points across the street. You. The target.Â
The Watcherâs voice cut in through the earpiece quietly, âJust remember,â He hummed, âNothing happens before ë´ě¸ (Bongin or The Seal) says it does.â He continued, his voice firm as though he was trying to stop Jeongguk from doing anything rash before it was time, âGwishin doesnât decide the moment. He waits for it.â
âI am waiting.â Jeongguk snapped as his stare sharpened through the glass anyway. He was patient. He had to be. His restraint was held together by his discipline alone. That didnât mean the thought of how fast he could snipe his target right from where he stood didnât cross his mind one or two times already, âItâs not a chase.â He stepped back from the window and turned towards the desk, âJust timing.â
The Watcher went quiet because whatever this was, it was already over in Jeonggukâs head.
âGet out of there soon.â The Watcher mumbled, âUnless you want her to come catch you. If thatâs the case, kindly cut the line because I donât want to see anything I havenât alreadyââÂ
He huffed with annoyance although it might even have been amusement because yes, there had been a time where The Watcher had dialed into Jeonggukâs surveillance feed without warning and had seen some very⌠suggestive things. Not that it was Jeonggukâs fault. The Watcher learned his lesson very quickly after that time anyways.Â
âSay less.â Jeongguk mumbled quickly and two fingers came up to the side of the sunglass frame. He brushed the discreet contact point near the temple of his sunglasses and the connection died instantly. The frames of his sunglasses flickered once and then Jeonggukâs view collapsed into static before finally fading into a normal tint.Â
He didnât go back to the window after that. Instead, Jeongguk stayed at your desk. The files on your computer were already closed. The intel he needed stopped being useful. He had no other reason to be in your office but something about being in a space that belonged to you made it hard for him to just up and walk away.Â
And so, he browsed through your computer as he sat there. Maybe he was buying time. Who knows. His subconscious made him sit there because he knew deep down after lunch, you would make your way up to your office to work on admin things for the rest of the day. Much like you always did.Â
What you would think if you walked into your office and saw him there didnât cross Jeonggukâs mind yet. Or perhaps the decision to wait in your office was already there before he even entered and he simply didnât give a damn either.Â
He found it hard to move. And even harder to look away from your screen when he scrolled across a certain app that looked like your dating profile. Curiosity got the best of him and he opened it up, tongue poking into the side of his cheek with thought as he read the âabout meâ section of the page.Â
âLooking for something real.â Â
Jeongguk rolled his eyes as he read the line. Something real. He huffed with irritation and continued to scroll.Â
The mouse cursor hovered over your profile pictures and he instantly clicked on the option to open them because if he were already here looking, he might as well investigate everything else while he was at it, right?Â
That was a justifiable excuse for invading your privacy, wasnât it?Â
The photos were simple enough. Candid. Some off guard. Some selfies. Pretty ones. Pictures that reflected a life lived with adventure and happiness. A life he once shared with you.Â
âWhy are you doing this?â He muttered to the empty room as he scrolled over to your newest matches and their messages. He opened every single conversation. Even the ones you hadnât read yet. He didnât give a fuck. Knowing that this profile would soon cease to exist in about five minutes anyway. Boring. Boring. Weird. More boring. He judged the conversations as he snorted to himself.Â
Men tried way too fucking hard. There was no need to be doing all that on a dating app. Especially when it looked like these conversations with you werenât going anywhere. It was almost as though you entertained them with a certain intention but halfway through realized they werenât worth your time. Or perhaps realized these chuds werenât who you wanted.Â
With a shrug, Jeongguk moved the mouse cursor over to the corner of the screen where the privacy options for the application were. He hovered over the button to delete the account but he didnât do it on his own because that would be too obvious. Instead, he reached for a phone in his back pocket and took it out, choosing a contact from his screen and pressing the phone to his ear.Â
There was one ring and a voice on the other end answered instantly. Then came Jeonggukâs voice in that same flat, disinterested tone, âDelete the account.â He mumbled into the phone, âShut the fucking server down if you can too.â He added with a shrug.Â
No other words were exchanged. And on the other end of the call, there was only a quiet acknowledgement and then the line disconnected abruptly.Â
Jeongguk set the phone down and tilted his head back slightly, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes still on the screen to watch it all happen in real time. Some force from within the city took over the screen where he had left it behind and he watched as the screen stuttered for a moment before a series of codes filled the page. Layer by layer, the application and its function stopped existing entirely.
He knew having your dating profile and the entire application deleted wouldnât resolve anything. If anything, it was proof of just how irrational he had become. He knew that. Accepted it, even. Yet somewhere along the way, his definition of reasonable had stopped resembling everyone elseâs. In his mind, there had never been a world that existed where you belonged on a dating app. Not after him anyway. You didnât need to be on those things when you had him.Â
The logic was impossible. Contradictory. And entirely his own. In Jeonggukâs fucked up head it fit together with perfect clarity. You would never understand it. You would call him obsessive. Possessive. Fucking unhinged. And you would be absolutely right about it all.Â
Jeongguk found he didn't particularly care though.
You could even call him insane. It changed nothing.
His sunglasses sat on top of your desk now. So did the earpiece. And Jeonggukâs gaze drifted over the space of your office now that his work was over. There was nothing personal in the space that anyone else would notice. Your office was a place built for work, not memory. There were files stacked neatly. Your computer was left idle. Everything intentional in its emptiness.
Except for the desk behind your chair.
When Jeongguk turned around, his eyes caught it immediately. There was a framed photo turned face-down. The edges of the frame were slightly dulled by dust that had started to settle into the corners. As though it hadnât been touched in a long time. And as though it had been put there once and then abandoned in that position. As though you had decided it should no longer be seen but still deserved to remain in that space.Â
Jeongguk knew what the photo was of. It was taken a long time ago. With you sitting behind him on his bike, arms loosely around his waist. His head turned just enough in the shot to catch the edge of a smile he probably didnât realize he was wearing. Your face half-hidden against his shoulder and your hair caught in the wind.
He still had the same picture and kept it somewhere he didnât pretend not to know about.Â
The difference was that his wasnât turned face-down.
Jeonggukâs eyes remained on the frame for a second longer. His expression disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Then he let the memory go just as the footsteps drew closer to your office door.
The door swung open next and you stepped inside without looking up from your phone. Your lips were at the straw of your iced tea. A tired sigh leaving your lips while you reached for the binder under your arm. Then you froze when you looked up, nearly dropping your purse, drink and the rest of your belongings from your grasp as your steps stuttered to a halt. Your breath caught in your throat so sharply it bordered on painful and you felt the shock all the way into your back.Â
Jeongguk stood near your desk as though he just happened to be in the neighbourhood and decided to stop by there. One hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. The other on top of your chairâs headrest. The afternoon light shone into the room and outlined his silhouette. Making his shadow look freaking gigantic.Â
For a split second, you genuinely thought your heart had stopped and then you remembered to breathe, âWhat the fuckâŚâ The words escaped your lips in a harsh whisper and your eyes darted back toward the doorway where your door was still half opened. Without thinking, you reached behind you and pulled the door shut quickly. The latch clicking softly into place before anyone passing by had the chance to glance inside.
Only then did you turn back to him, a hand at the center of your chest as you whispered, âWhat the actual fuck are you doing here?â You took a step closer, your voice strained with disbelief, âThis floor is for staff only.âÂ
Jeongguk simply watched you with that same infuriatingly calm stature that made you want to knock the sonic coins out of him. He stood there without saying a single word as though slipping into places he wasn't supposed to be in was no more remarkable than walking through the front door. Which, knowing Jeongguk⌠it probably wasn't.
His eyes drifted from your face to the takeout cup still clutched loosely in your hand, condensation sliding over the plastic from where you had carried it back upstairs making your fingers wet. The thought crossed his mind for a split second. Not even a second. Half a second. Your fingers in his mouth. He stomped the idea out faster than it formed and then he was stepping closer to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his pierced lips,Â
"Was gonna take you to lunch." He hummed out thoughtfully, "But..." His eyes lingered on the drink for another second, "Looks like I missed my chance." He made a tch noise with his lips and shrugged, âMaybe another time.â He acted as though he simply noticed the cup in your hand. As though he were piecing the story together now.Â
Jeongguk almost hated how skilled he was at lying straight to your face.
You glanced down at the cup as though you had forgotten you were still holding it and something unreadable crossed Jeongguk's expression before it disappeared. His gaze returned to yours, giving away nothing. As if he hadn't known exactly where you had been. As if he hadn't watched you sitting outside on the patio. As if he hadn't stood at a window, daggered eyes shooting towards the man sitting next to you.
The lie rolled easily on his tongue. He hadn't come here to surprise you. He hadn't come to ask you to lunch. He had come looking for answers. The invitation was simply the prettier version of the ugly truth.
"Yeah, right. Take me to lunch. And the sky is green, Jeongguk." You rolled your eyes, âYou donât even eat lunch, lying moron.â You grumbled, clutching the cup a little tighter, "How did you even get in here?â You placed your things down onto your desk and sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck before looking around to see if anything had been touched, "If security catches you, they'll trespass you before you make it five feet down the hallway."Â
Jeongguk looked at you for a long moment and then he felt a strange feeling bubbling within his chest. Then he began to laugh. Hard. A genuine bark of amusement that escaped out of his lips before he could stop it. He sounded like he was mocking you. The kind of laugh someone let out after hearing something genuinely absurd. You glared at him. Eyes narrowing.Â
The idea of the gallery security catching him made him guffaw. That was a good laugh.Â
His smile stayed spread across his lips as he started moving towards you. Steps slow and nonchalant. Each step carrying the same high strung confidence (dick heavy) walk he had entered the building with, "Those goofs?â He said fondly. As if he were actually willing to entertain the challenge of getting caught, "Yeah⌠I think I'll survive."
You shot him an unimpressed look and your arms folded over your chest as he approached you, "I'm fucking serious, Gguk." You inhaled a labored breath as though him coming closer to you had you feeling overwhelmed already.Â
"Oh, I know you are, sweet pea." He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to keep his eye contact, "And I think that's adorable." He reached up and you felt the back of his fingers brush lightly over your cheek before you instantly whipped your head away from his touch.Â
Your glare deepened. His smile did too.
You stared at him with complete disbelief, your shoulders collapsing in mild defeat, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" You hissed, careful to keep your voice from carrying beyond the office door, "Showing up at my job unannounced? Again? Are you actually crazy?" You paused, âI donât even know why I ask you that question anyway. You know what you are.âÂ
Jeongguk didn't so much as flinch. Instead, the tip of his tongue stuck out to lick over the piercings on his lower lip before his teeth dragged over it, âI was tryna surprise you.â He mused, amused by your outrage more than intimidated by it.
You blinked at him several times before crossing to your chair to pull it out from the desk in one rough tug, "That's what you come up with to say?" You huffed, taking a seat and grabbing your mouse to check your computer.Â
Jeongguk gave you the smallest shrug as he walked over to your desk to lean against the edge of it right in front of you, almost blocking your view from the computer, "If I announced I was coming..." His gaze stayed on yours, big arms crossing over his wide chest, "It wouldn't have been much of a surprise, would it?"
You opened your mouth to argue but nothing came out because against all reason, his logic was internally consistent. Instead, you scoffed under your breath, "I donât have time for this shit today." You spat, shaking your head as your fingers pressed against your temple.
"No?" He asked softly then he hummed in thought before continuing, "But you're still talking to me." The smile tugging at his lips only made you want to strangle him more, âIf you want me to leave, just say the word.â He nodded, making no effort to get up. If anything, Jeongguk made himself more comfortable. Leaning back on his hands as he watched you click at absolutely nothing on your computer.Â
He leaned more against the edge of your desk then slid backwards until he was sitting on top of it properly. Completely at ease in a space where he had no right to be. He pushed aside a neatly stacked folder of documents as he made himself comfortable and your head lifted to glare at him as he sat there in the middle of your desk like rules were merely suggestions for him.
âI canât work with you sitting there.â You deadpanned, staring at him with exhaustion. You were annoyed⌠slightly. Your eyes blazed in his direction for a long moment, waiting for him to realize he had overstayed his welcome.
He didn't.
That was always the problem with Jeongguk. He toted himself with this energy that felt like he could tell the exact distance between being unwanted and being tolerated. And he always seemed to know when he was closer to the latter.Â
You sighed out, "Leave." and then you turned back toward your computer. The word came out threatening. Convincing enough to you. You didn't look at the door. Nor did you stand up.
Jeongguk quietly noted down every single thing you didn't do.
A menacing smirk began to curl upwards along the corner of his lips. Not because he thought he had won but because he understood you better than you wanted him to. Yes, you were telling him to leave. But you were also sitting there letting the silence hang heavily between the two of you. Letting him stay.
Jeongguk pushed away from the desk slightly, just enough to make you think he might actually listen. And your eyes flickered over to him with hope filled in them. He smiled at you with that same snarky ass grin and then he sat back down, staying exactly where he was.Â
âFucking asshole.â You grumbled to yourself and started typing along your keyboard. Eyes narrowing as you tried (and failed) to look busy. Eventually, your patience ran out and you pushed back from your chair with force.Â
Jeongguk didnât move but his attention followed you the second you stood up.
You ignored him and crossed the room toward the shelves along the wall. Reaching between files and display pieces to find what you were looking for. Your movements were automatic. You were awful at pretending to not care about him being there if Jeongguk had to be honest.Â
This was your space. Your routine. Your life. And yet somehow, with the insufferable ass man you called your ex sitting there, it felt different. As though the room had warped to fit his presence. As if he was sucking all the air out of the very space you were standing in.Â
Behind you, you could feel his eyes following. Dark gaze tracking you in the way you were used to because you knew Jeongguk had always been observant. Always memorized details about you without meaning to.Â
You felt his fierce gaze drift downwards and land on your ass shamelessly and you almost whipped something at his head to have some sort of decorum. But you didnât. Of course not.Â
You finally found what you were looking for and turned back around. Thatâs when Jeongguk stood up and trapped you against the corner of your desk before you could make it to your chair, âYou look pretty today.â His gazed trailed over the dress you were wearing, âVery office siren.â He commented with a hum of approval, âSo damn sexy.âÂ
âGod, shut up.â Your stomach betrayed your words by coiling tight within the very pit of your soul and you raised the file you had in your hands to hit him with it but Jeongguk snatched it away from you quickly, tossing it onto the desk with a careless thud, âDid you find what you needed on my computer?â You dared to lift your head to look up at him as his hands planted onto the sides of the desk on either side of you, âI know you snooped.âÂ
âWhatâs there to find, baby?â Jeongguk purred the nickname out and you genuinely felt your head spin at the sound of his voice. His tattooed fingers thrummed over the front of your blazer before his fingertips danced up your sleeve, "You really think that little of me?"
You stared at him as the tips of his fingers brushed over your clothes. Still, his touch raised goosebumps along your body and you could only thank the heavens that he couldnât see your bare skin right now.Â
His voice was low and his head tilted to the side as he tried to look pitiful, âYou donât trust me?â He pressed further and he crowded over you as though he owned you and the space he took up. His pelvis nudged up against yours, pinning you flush to the edge of the desk as he peered down at you with his terrorizing height.Â
Jeongguk never looked guilty when he was caught. He looked like he had already thought about every possible outcome of being caught and decided none of them bothered him one bit.
The fucking nerve of this man. After everything he put you through. The secrets. The disappearing acts. The way he always seemed to know things he shouldn't, he stood there asking you that. Asking you if you trusted him. As if trust was something simple. As if it was something he hadn't spent years making complicated all on his own.
âNot at all.â You nodded sternly although your voice came out shaken as the familiarity of Jeongguk snatching the space between you both nearly suffocated you. You felt the outline of what he was packing in those snug fitting jeans of his rubbing up against the front of your dress and you swallowed the lump of lust forming in your throat thickly. Lord, he was big.Â
The size difference between you and Jeongguk had always been impossible to ignore. He was just... bigger. Not just in height alone, but in presence. Standing nearly underneath him made you realize how much space he naturally occupied. Giant shoulders. A solid frame. The kind of build that made every doorway and hallway seem significantly smaller when he walked through them.Â
You, on the other hand, could stand your ground all you wanted. And you fought tooth and nail to but next to him, the contrast was strikingly obvious. It wasnât just that he towered over you. It was the way he seemed immovable. As if he were a brick wall that suddenly learned how to walk.
And the most irritating part was that Jeongguk knew exactly what effect his size had on you. His aura alone was enough to remind you that beneath the teasing and the utter cockiness was someone who had always been far more difficult to push away than you wanted to admit.
The first thing you noticed was the strong angles of his face as you stared up at him. Next was his scent. Leather. Distinct and recognizable. An unmistakable scent he carried with him in the same way it always had.
It pulled you back to the end of the lecture. The brief moment when he had passed close enough for your senses to catch it before your mind did. The same trace of leather. The same presence you had dismissed as a stranger at the time.
"Wait." You breathed, "Were you there?"
Jeongguk hummed out in question, "Where?"Â
"The lecture."
The pause only lasted for less than a breath and then Jeongguk casually said, "Nope."
You knew there was no chance Jeongguk had willingly sat through an hour-long discussion about art theory unless there was a reason and you shook your head as if the idea of seeing him sitting in your lecture was preposterous even to you, "Right. Forgot you hate those lectures."
"I do."
The bluntness of the response made you scoff, "Okay? That's kind of rude."
"I didn't say I hated hearing you talk." The way Jeongguk looked at you when he said the words made them feel like anything but, âI just said I hate the lectures.âÂ
The teasing expression spread across his face faded slightly. Replaced by something earnest. More deliberate. As though for once in his life, he wasn't trying to provoke you or win an argument. As though he was just saying something he had been thinking.
Chocolate coloured eyes stayed on yours. Steady and unbreaking. The look in his eyes made it difficult to tell whether he was being honest or whether he had simply always been better at hiding what he felt.Â
Jeongguk could dismiss anything without hesitation. He could call things boring. Pointless. A waste of time. However, when it came to you, his rules always seemed to bend just a little.Â
If you knew he sat through that lecture, you would never let him live it down because in all honesty, the lecture could have lasted hours. The topic could have been something he never gave a shit about. None of it would have mattered because you were the one speaking. And Jeongguk would gladly sit for hours listening to you speak about blah, blah, blah if that meant he could listen to you talk.Â
âYou know Iâm not into that shit, angel.â He nodded, hands reaching out towards you, landing on your waist as you stood braced against the desk, âIâm into this dress though.â He purred out with interest as his fingers drifted down your sides to your hips, âThink it would look even better on my bedroom floor.â He looked down at you and smiled, âAgree?âÂ
That stupidly wicked smile flashed and you felt your insides twist from it. The way pink lips stretched over white teeth. Piercings glistening. His face serving as a silent invitation for you to take a seat on it. God, you wanted to do that so bad.Â
You really tried and failed at not reacting when Jeongguk looked you over. You felt as though you were the art on display under his gaze. It was dark. Tracking every inch of you as though he could see through your clothes, âDisagree.â You deadpanned although you tried to squeeze your thighs together without him noticing but who were you kidding. Of course, he noticed and it only made the smile curl wider along his lips.Â
âCome over to my place tonight.â Jeongguk whispered, hands trailing up your sides, firm palms squeezing over each side of your waist in a way that made your heart rate lurch a hundred beats forward, âStay the night. Havenât slept with you in my arms in forever.â He confessed which made you let out a small snicker despite the shivers running up your spine from his touch.Â
You placed a hand on the solid mass that was his chest. Pushing at him lightly to get him away from you but there wasnât any use. His body was stronger than a brick. All muscle. All man. âMm.. sounds like someone misses me.â You hummed out, loving the desperate whisper of Jeonggukâs voice.Â
âDamn right.â He nodded shamelessly, âI can admit that.â His voice sounded like a strum when he spoke, âBut can you say the same?â He reached up with his tattooed hand and brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, tucking the lock behind your ear so that he could see you better, âCanât you say you missed me at all?â He almost pleaded.Â
Something about a big ass man like Jeongguk nearly begging you to admit you missed him struck a fire within your stomach. You knew denying him everything you felt would only lead you down a darker path that you couldnât find your way out of with him. But did you want to change? Well, your answer to his question sufficed enough,Â
âNo.â You smiled cheekily up at him. Wearing the most fucked out look in your eyes despite not even being fucked (yet). Yeah, you were already so far gone and nothing had even happened.Â
You knew Jeongguk had never been good at pretending he was satisfied with half measures. Yes, you both had dinner together here and there. Sharing a few hours stolen from the rest of the world. Having conversations that lasted longer than either of you intended. Followed by the inevitable moment where you would kick him out of your apartment before anything progressed.Â
He didnât put up a fight. Didnât try to stay. He gave you the space you deserved. It was progress. But it was never enough because he had missed more than just a meal. More than just a conversation. He had missed normalcy. He missed you.Â
Nothing about the two of you was normal anymore though. Jeongguk knew that. But was it wrong for him to want more time with you? Not because dinner wasn't enough. But because leaving afterward never felt like enough.
But you were tired of his games. Tired of his hollow and empty promises.Â
Spending time with Jeongguk felt as though you were always one step away from your relationship becoming real again, only for it to slip away through your fingers because while you wanted him to choose you, he wanted to trap you.Â
Jeongguk wanted more than just your relationship. He wanted you to be his puppet again. And you wanted him to just stop acting like you were something he could cage and keep locked away. You had every advantage at your fingertips to rid him of you for good. All you had to do was say the word.Â
So what the fuck were you two doing, really? You either wanted each other or you didnât. But what if you wanted the idea of each other? The good parts of each other? What if you wanted the parts of each other that weren't jealousy and possession? Could you put your finger on the map that was your dynamic and figure out where to go next?Â
You were caught somewhere between two impossible truths. One part of you wanted Jeongguk with every fibre of your being. Wanted the Jeongguk that showed up at your door with flowers and chocolate. The Jeongguk who could make you laugh when you were trying your hardest not to.Â
The other part of you wanted him gone. Wanted the peace you had fought to build without him. Wanted the quiet that came from not constantly wondering what he wasn't telling you. Wanted to stop feeling like loving him meant standing in the middle of a lightning strike.
Everyone was rooting for you to take him back but taking him back meant taking all of him. The good. The bad. The demons he carried like they were old friends. The skeletons in his closet he buried so deeply that sometimes you wondered if even he knew where they ended and he began.
You could love someone and still be afraid of everything that came with them. And Jeongguk was well aware of that. The issue wasnât that you didn't want him. It was whether wanting him meant accepting the heavy baggage that came with him too. And you just weren't sure anymore if your heart could survive another time of loving him at the cost of yourself.Â
If he wanted to choose you, you were here. Waiting for him with arms wide open. But he had to prove to you he was just choosing you. And showing up unannounced to your office today was setting him all the way back to where he first started.Â
But when he leaned down to you like he did right now. Closing the space between you both as though it were as easy as pie. When his lips brushed over your own parted ones as though you were just waiting for him to do just that. When he finally pressed his lips against your own as if the action were simply a natural exchange shared between the two of you⌠You wondered if you were just keeping up with this charade because you were scared of being hurt again.
Or if you were just as fucked up as he was and loved the danger that came with being someone as unhinged as Jeongguk.Â
Did your crazy match his crazy?Â
The thought lingered long before you were aware of your actions. Wrapping around your brain like a thorned vine as you melted into his touch and kissed him back almost instantly.Â
The movements were slow and patient. Which was contradicting because you both kissed as if you didnât have a pile of paperwork to sift through. As though you didnât have a job to do. As though anyone could have walked into your office right at this second. Everything was forgotten when your lips met. His lips soft and sickeningly sweet in the worst way possible.Â
Your hands pressed against his chest once more but not to push him away this time. Instead, you let the tips of your acrylics curl into the tight shirt he wore under his leather jacket. Your nails running languidly over every dip of his pec muscles before tracing downwards until they were counting over each set of rock hard abs lining his torso as though he were a Greek God and not your dreadful ex slash cold blooded assassin.Â
God, you missed him too. Missed feeling those lips tracing every inch of you. Missed the way he would eat you up like a starving man. Missed his perfect body. You made a point to never kiss him goodbye or let him have more than a pat on his shoulder each evening he came over to spend those fleeting hours with you because you knew what it would do to you if you let him get closer than an arms length.Â
And you ached every single time you kicked him out of your place before the night turned into something more. But now that his lips were on yours, the question on how you managed to survive saying goodbye to him every night without feeling any part of him on your body ran through your head over and over.Â
He tasted like cigarettes and cherry lip balm. You tasted like peaches and lemon. You wanted to push him away but instead, your hands over his abdomen only moved to pull him closer by the flaps of his leather jacket. Letting the fading scent of smoke, leather and motor oil seep into your senses.
âYou know I canât stay away from you even if I tried.â Jeongguk murmured against your lips, âEven if I donât want to.â He exhaled into your mouth, âBecause fuck knows I want to. I want to leave you alone. Give you all the space you need. But I just fuckinâ canât.â He breathed, your foreheads bumping against each other as his nose brushed yours, âI hate myself for it.âÂ
Your fingers curled into the leather of his jacket and you had to block the words he was saying from reaching your heart because if you let those walls down, he would invade you and then there would be no going back. Instead, you bit over his lower lip and dragged it back between your teeth. Earning a low groan from Jeonggukâs lips,Â
âThen act normal.â You whispered back to him, âStart with not breaking into my office uninvited.â You said all this while your hands reached up to smooth through his hair, a hand resting against the back of his head to pull him into you only for him to deepen the kiss.Â
He licked over your lower lip and your lips parted for him. Your tongues touched and you heard him let out a soft noise. It sounded like a whine and you hated how fast your core throbbed at the sound. You both lazily let your tongues explore each other and then as he broke away from your lips, he whispered with a jagged breath, a string of spit hanging between your lips, âI just want you so bad.â He gazed down at you with smoldering eyes, âIn every way.â He whispered, dark eyes devouring your very existence with just a look.Â
âLord. Fuck. Shut up and stop talking.â You spat out quickly, stealing a glance up at him with a flushed face. You felt a full body shiver go right through you as you stared into his eyes. You felt dizzy and there was a throb between your thighs you simply couldnât ignore any longer.Â
Jeongguk had his eyes on the sheen of spit on your lips and then his trance fixed on the blush on your cheeks before he tilted his head to the side with question,Â
âWhy? Am I making you wet?â He asked with a smile.Â
âDrying up as we speak actually.â You lied. Painfully.Â
âYeah?â He mused, âCan I check?â
âNo. Cuz thereâs nothing to see. Trust me.â You lied through your teeth as your feet planted firmly on the ground where you stood, âBut if you can move me, sure.â Despite grounding yourself to the floor of your office like a pillar, you could feel the wobble of your knees and you knew with just one easy move, Jungkook could flip you around like a pancake and do anything he wanted.Â
And that he did. One hand landed roughly against your hip and the other reached around to rest along your lower back, spinning you around in one quick maneuver and pressing the front of your body up against your desk, making your hands fly out on top of the surface to catch yourself from planting face first into it,Â
âThat was too easy.â He cooed out triumphantly, âYou sure thereâs nothing to see?â He asked, eyes glancing at you as you turned your head to gawk in shock at him, âSpeak.â He instructed you, âTell me the truth, honey. Iâm giving you the chance because Iâm a good man.âÂ
You gasped as he manhandled you as though he could pick you up and snap you like a twig. The air punched out of your lungs and you lost your balance at once. Pathetically letting him push you downwards onto the desk with one large hand pressing against back of your head while the other traced along the hem of your dress only to hike it up slowly,Â
âGood man.â You puffed out an exhale and laughed in disbelief, struggling to turn your head to look at him, âNothing about you is good.â You mumbled into the desk, fingers curled under the wood of it while you tried not to raise your ass up as Jeongguk leaned down to press his chest against your back to hold you still, his groin digging into the bare skin along the backs of your thighs while his knee pushed between your thighs easily to spread them apart,Â
The graze of your heels skidding across the floor as Jeongguk shoved your legs apart with his knee echoed through the office and you genuinely wanted to die at how loud it sounded. If anyone was outside the door right now, they could easily hear everything else. Your stomach twisted with excitement at that and then you had to remind yourself that you werenât going to fold this easily.Â
You werenât going to give in. Werenât going to let him have you that easily. Werenât going to⌠oh fuckâŚ. But Jeonggukâs pierced lips were at the shell of your ear now. Kissing over the dangly earrings you were wearing today. Warm lips moving from your ear to the side of your neck. Trailing heated kisses against your soft skin. Making your eyelids droop and head lull back to give him more space to run those smooth lips along your jugular.Â
Sweet nothings spilled from his lips with ease. Telling you how much he wanted you. How bad he missed you. Whispering next about something heinous that only made your thoughts cloud from the obscenities spilling out his mouth.Â
Large hands roamed around your body. Grabbing and massaging over every inch of you. Squeezing over your breasts. Your hips. Your ass. Complementing the shape of your body. Your curves that fit like a puzzle into him. How perfect you were. How much he wanted you to the point where he couldnât breathe right.Â
And you listened to it all. Listened because he was speaking the damn truth.Â
What werenât you going to do again?Â
âIâm gonna ignore you and give you what you want now.â Jeongguk said lastly, his nose grazing over your temple as he pushed your dress up to your waist with one hand. One large palm splaying over the curve over your ass as the dress exposed you, âMmm. I bought you these.â He commented on the black panties you were wearing, giving the tender flesh of your ass a firm squeeze, âThe fortune Iâve spent on you yet you still treat me like shit.â He cursed, tattooed fingers now playing with the waistband of your panties, âUngrateful fucking woman.â The words came out like venom and your ears burned with shame because you fucking loved it. Sick.Â
âTreat you like shit?â You laughed into the desk, trying to move so that you could send a death glare over to his direction but it was no use. He was covering over you like the heaviest weighted blanket in the entire world. Your chest heaved against the wood you were pinned to and you could feel the heat pricking along your skin as his hands roamed with free will over your bare skin,Â
âYou disappear when it suits you. Lie to my fucking face. Break into my office.â You shook your head, âMaybe I treat you like shit because you keep giving me reasons to.â You argued back with a fleeting moment of confidence and then your lips clamped shut and jaw clenched at once as you felt him pressing his fingertips up against the warmth over your panties.
Your vision blurred at the feeling. His touch ghosted over you. Barely there but still feeling heavy at the same time. You knew you were soaking through your underwear already and you silently cursed your body for betraying you. You sucked in a deep breath when you felt the digits press up against the dampness already there and you felt the smirk along Jeonggukâs pierced lip as he pulled away from you only to wrench your panties to the side.Â
âShut up.â Jeongguk spat the command out and you knew you struck a chord at that. Good.Â
You celebrated the victorious moment of pushing his buttons. The victory reigned only for a split second though before you felt the familiar intrusion of his fingertips running over your folds from behind. A weak whine escaped your parted lips at that and Jeongguk huffed, his movements halting at once, âYouâre gonna stay quiet for me, yeah?â He murmured gruffly and didnât move until you verbally agreed to hush your mouth.Â
âFuck.â Your forehead thumped against the top of your desk and your eyes squeezed shut, face burning with pride before you finally blew out a frustrated breath and nodded submissively, âY-Yes.â You whimpered, your waist unconsciously pushing back against Jeonggukâs fingers.Â
âMmm.â Jeongguk hummed out proudly, âI know youâre only being like this because you missed me too. Youâre just too fuckinâ stubborn to admit it. But it's okay.â He crooned mockingly, âLet me take care of you now, my love.â His voice dropped to a sweet octave despite the curses he was slewing earlier, âDonât you want me to touch you?â He asked, fingers running over your dripping folds and a hasty breath leaving his lips,Â
âPoor little thing. So wet because of me.â He tutted, âLying to yourself for what?â Two fingers pushed at your entrance at that, stretching you apart just from the width of his fingers alone, âLying to me for what?â A low groan escaped his throat, fingers pushing and curling into you.Â
You could hear the squelch of your wetness when his tatted digits pushed into you and it should have embarrassed you but instead, you rocked backwards at once. Hands gripping over each side of your desk as your head raised to tip back.Â
Fuck, you hated what he did to you. Hated how fast your body reacted to his attention. You wanted to slap yourself and scream to get a fucking grip. But it was so fucking hard to resist him. He knew you inside out. Knew just what to do to make you crave him even though he wasnât good for you.Â
A soft moan left your lips feeling those skilled fingers inside of your tight walls. The moan was a fucking accident. You didnât mean to but how couldnât you when this man was on you the way he was? Your body felt like it had been lit on fire and all you could do was just feel.Â
Thatâs when you felt a strong arm wrap around the front of your chest to haul you up off the desk, keeping your back arched as his large palm clasped over your mouth at once, holding you in place while his fingers worked their magic in you at the same time, âGonna get yourself fucking caught.â Jeongguk grumbled against the side of your head, âWant people to see you like this? Slutted out with my fingers in you?â He painted the picture of your coworkers having their own exhibition of the two of you and you could only shake your head weakly with his hand over your lips.Â
The response made Jeongguk let out a soft chuckle, âThought so. That wouldnât be so professional of you, would it?â He murmured, pulling his fingers out of you only to reach lower between your thighs to press his sopping fingers up against your swollen clit, âWhat would they think of you if they saw?â He gently rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves and your lips trembled against his fingers clamped tight over your mouth in response, âYeah. Exactly.â He answered although you couldnât speak but the terror and mild excitement of being caught shining in your eyes was enough for him.Â
Your body writhed in response to his touch. He didnât relent. Continuing to move his fingers skillfully along you. You couldnât make noise but you could bite. And so, your teeth sunk into the palm of his hand. Digging hard into his flesh. Which only made Jeongguk grunt out softly with approval from the pain. You whimpered against his skin next and Jeongguk removed his hand from over your mouth to let you breathe,Â
âFucking hell.â You whispered when you were freed and inhaled a sharp breath then leaned down to rest against the desk as Jeongguk pushed you back down only for him to drop onto his knees behind you, making your legs spread wider as he reached up towards your panties and grabbed them by the waistband to pull them down to your ankles,Â
âFuck. Whââ You could hardly speak, âWhat are you doing?â You breathed out, hands on top of the desk curling into the wood. You were too spent to lift your head to look anymore instead, you just⌠felt.Â
âTeaching you how to be fucking grateful.â Jeongguk drawled out as he pushed your asscheeks apart and buried his face into you without warning. His tongue gliding between your folds in one hot, languid motion.Â
Your vision went white and your back instantly arched for more. Body jolting. His nose pressed into you while his tongue lapped at you from behind, hands over your ass kneading and squeezing painfully at the flesh,Â
âTaste so fucking good.â He nearly growled as he pulled back and thatâs when you felt him spitting over your pussy. You could feel the saliva drip downwards and you whined pathetically from it, unable to hold your body still, âThen you wonder why Iâm fucking crazy about you.â He whispered then he was back where you needed him to be the most, sucking over your dripping heat as though he were trying to drink your juices up.Â
Your head flopped down to rest over your forearms and your nails scratched over your desktop. Small whimpers falling out from your lips and getting muffled by the surface of the desk. You could feel the drool slipping out of your mouth and pooling into a little puddle along the wood as you let him devour you from behind. Whatever the hell he was doing with his mouth right now was sending you closer and closer to the edge and you couldnât even make a single peep to let him know how good he made you feel.Â
The pads of his fingers dug into your asscheeks to spread you wider and you swore you wouldnât be able to sit down for the next three business days after he let go of you from the grip he had. Your body went into a permanent jello state. Pliant. Wobbling and unsteady as you tried to fight the coils tightening within the pit of your stomach.Â
âApologize.â Jeongguk commanded as he pulled back suddenly.Â
You almost cried from the loss of feeling and only then did you dare to turn to look over your shoulder at the man on his knees behind you. His eyes were blown. Fucked out just eating you out alone. Lips glossy and red. Hair a dishevelled mess. Chest heaving. Gaze locked on you like a fucking demon,Â
âSay sorry for being ungrateful.â Jeongguk nodded, hands roaming down from your ass to your thighs, nails scraping over you and making you whimper before he slowly rose to his feet, the back of his hand wiping over his mouth.
You twisted around finally and swallowed hard because suddenly having to apologize to this insolent man made you want to jump out of the nearest window. Jeongguk didnât relent though. Instead, he smiled. That fucking ridiculous smile he did when he knew he had you right he wanted you to be. Wrapped around his finger. Or his mouth, actually.Â
âYouâve lost your entire mind.â You breathed hard, struggling to stand up straight from the ravaging. You were so close before. So close to gushing onto his tongue. And now with every weak movement you made, it felt like you were going to explode with no contact at all.Â
You dragged yourself up onto the desk to sit there, taking a moment to gather yourself. You could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Hair falling out of the once neat bun it was tied in. Glasses almost at the end of your nose. Beads of sweat lining your hairline. Eyes unfocused. Clit throbbing with the need for attention. Panties still hooked carelessly around your ankles.Â
You only needed a second. A second to collect your thoughts so you could kick this man out of your office for not letting you come but it was a second too late because Jeongguk was already over you. Standing between your spent knees and pulling you to the very edge of the desk by your legs before you could even get your clothing fixed back into place. Â
âSay sorry and Iâll fuck you.â He nodded, âIsnât that a good compromise?â He tilted his head as though his offer was the most reasonable thing in the world.Â
You would rather the earth break open and suck you into hell than apologize. The very thought of saying sorry for being a human with feelings was humiliating. Saying sorry because he invaded your space yet again like he owned you? Fuck right off, Jeon Jeongguk. Go to fucking hell.Â
You wished you had a gun to shoot yourself instead.Â
Apologizing so he could dick you down?Â
Absolutely fucking noâ
âSorry.â You whispered quickly, âIâm sorry.â You said again. The shame and humiliation burned on your face like fire but Jeongguk wasted no time in letting you dwell on that because next thing you knew, he had his fingers over the buckle of his belt. Eyes on your own as he undid his jeans and inched them down next just enough for the 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 whole ass inches of his dick to swing out and bounce heavily as though it simply couldnât wait for this moment just like you.Â
âSee? Thatâs all you had to do.â Jeongguk teased, one hand hooking under your thigh to raise it up and wrap it around his waist. The panties stuck around your ankles slipped when he lifted your thigh only for the fabric to dangle carelessly off your other foot instead as you leaned back on your elbows and stared up at him with glossy eyes and wordless lips.Â
Jeongguk tugged you closer to him, one hand wrapping around the base of his length as he slapped the tip of his precum pooled dick up against your clit at once, dragging the precum over your clit and between your folds until he was pressing up against the tight heat of your entrance.
Again, a fucking miserable and nearly borderline embarrassing whimper escaped you from the feeling and the sounds filled the four walls of your office. Lord, the sounds. Wet wasnât even a word to describe you anymore. You were practically leaking. Soaking. Gushing. You had to bite your tongue at once to stop any more noises leaving your lips when Jeonggukâs gaze snapped to look at you with a silent warning to stay quiet.Â
âWas that so hard, darling?â His voice was thick and laced with pure honey as he continued dragging his length over your bundle of nerves then barely dipping the tip of his cock into you. Teasing you. Dragging it out to bring you to the brink of insanity.Â
You could barely keep your eyes open let alone answer as you watched him bend his head next and let his spit trickle out of his red lips. Making it land right where the head of his dick and your entry met.Â
âYou wonât do it again, right?â He asked after, guiding himself to dip into your entrance once more. The nasty wet sound filling your ears and making your eyelids flutter, âYouâll be a good girl from now on, yeah?â He pushed his cock past your ring of tightness as he inched into you and cursed quietly from the feeling of your walls instantly gripping him.Â
Your vision hazed almost immediately at the feeling. Lips pressing together tight to stop yourself from letting out the strangled cry that threatened to break free from your throat. No surface was strong enough for you to grab onto to brace yourself from the pleasure crawling over your skin already.Â
You grabbed onto the leather of his jacket with one hand for support. The other landing on top of the desk to hold onto the edge of it tight enough to turn your knuckles white, âFâŚFuck.. Yes.. Iâm sorry.. Iâm fucking sorry⌠Iâll be a good girl. I promise.â You nearly sobbed, âPlease just fuck me.â You begged, knowing how much it turned him on when he turned you into a pleading mess.Â
The power of having you spread wide on top of your desk under Jeonggukâs command in your very office shouldnât have turned him on the way it did. It was kind of twisted how much his dick throbbed at the feeling of having you like this. With your lipstick smeared. Drool spilling out from the corners of your mouth. Glasses shifted and lenses fogged up from the heat shared between you two. Tears stuck to your lashes already and he wasnât even all the way inside of you yet. It was so fucking sexy. And he felt like a king because of it.Â
âThatâs my girl.â Jeongguk praised, words slurring while he raised your thigh higher when it threatened to drop from around his waist, âAnd youâre gonna let me come see you here whenever I fucking want, right?â He asked as the rest of his length sunk into you, filling you up entirely and stretching you apart, âGonna let me do whatever the fuck I want?â His sexy Busan accent slipped out from his lips as he started to thrust, barely giving you time to adjust.Â
You let out a pitiful whine and nodded sharply, struggling to form a breath let alone coherent words, âAnything you want.â You managed to respond and then he was thrusting. Making slow, deliberate plunges in and out of you. Dragging his length against your walls so slow you could practically feel the veins along his girth throbbing.Â
âThatâs right.â Jeongguk mused with satisfaction, âAnything I fuckinâ want.â He nodded quickly, freehand reaching down to you for his fingers to clasp under your chin and wrap around your throat. Forcing you to raise your head and look into his eyes as his thumb and index finger on either side of your neck squeezed along those two points to constrict your breathing just a bit. Timing his thrusts to hit right after he squeezed at your throat.Â
Only he could do this. Only he knew just what to do to make you feel him everywhere all at once. He was so fucking good at making your body arch and shake. How could you ever stay away from this?Â
The magical curve of his length touched the sweet spot inside of you along with your breaths constricting instantly had you almost black out from the feeling, âFuckâ right there. Yes.â You whispered, âFeels so good.â You babbled, reaching up to hold onto his wrist where he held you by the throat, âMore, baby.â You pleaded, nails digging into his skin to make him increase the pressure on your neck more but not to totally stop you from breathing.Â
He didnât crush your windpipe. Only squeezed under your jaw lightly to make it the oxygen drain from your lungs and brain just enough, âSo fucking good.â You nodded mindlessly and slurred the words out. Drunk on lust and Jeongguk. Your wrist twisted the material of his jacket and you pulled him closer, making him fuck you deeper.Â
He let go of your neck and grabbed your hand that was wrapped into his jacket to bring your fingers to his mouth, wrapping his wet lips around your index and middle fingers to suck over them. He coated the digits with his saliva. Taking his time. Making you watch him with blown pupils. Making it sloppy just the way he liked. And then he released them with a lewd pop before saying, âTouch yourself for me.âÂ
Weakly you reached down between the two of you and pressed your two fingers up against your throbbing clit at Jeonggukâs instruction. Dragging them over the bud slowly before gasping softly. Your toes curled and your walls squeezed at his length. You were so sensitive. And you knew it wouldnât take much to come if you continued this way.Â
Jeongguk waited for you to move your fingers and you both locked gazes as you began to rub circles around your clit. Your chest felt as though it were about to cave in on itself and you shook your head quickly as he began to thrust again. The feeling was too much. You had barely touched yourself and you were already seeing white.Â
A small cry broke free from you and your head dropped back, glasses sliding backwards off your face in a careless fashion and falling onto the desk with a clatter as you started to tremble, âIâmâ Fuck. Please. Please.â You didnât even know what you were begging for. You just didnât want him to stop. You were teetering on the edge. Feeling the intense pressure building up higher, higher and higher and then you were unraveling right before Jeonggukâs eyes.Â
âMy pretty girl.â Jeongguk rasped, hips snapping up to fuck you through the orgasm unleashing through you powerfully, âFuck, I can feel you creaming all over my dick.â You only whined ridiculously in response while he cooed out to you sweetly, âI know, doll. I know. Feels too good, huh?â He hummed with approval, a proud smile flashing over his lips,Â
âLet me fill you up, kayâ?â The words spilling from his lips started to stutter along with the rhythm of his thrusts. It was like watching you come took him right to the edge and pushed him off faster than fucking you ever could, âFuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up.â He swore, burying his dick all the way into you with one more brutal thrust and then he was emptying himself into you with a harsh hiss followed by a deep groan.Â
You were floating on a cloud. Barely registering anything except the sync of Jeonggukâs waist moving in you. You felt his grip around your thigh tighten and then he slammed his length into you. Rocking his hips in a circle. And finally you felt the heat of him spurting his release into you. Filling you up just like he promised.Â
You thanked him like the cock hungry slut you were. Eyes rolling back to a close as you relished in the feeling before he pulled out of you at once and left you empty. Making you let out a tiny whimper from the loss of feeling him inside of you.
Meanwhile Jeongguk looked like he had barely broken a sweat. If it werenât for his unbuttoned jeans that he already tucked his dick back into, you would have never known he just fucked the life out of you. His leather jacket was fitted perfectly back into place. Tight compression shirt smoothed down and stuck to his abdomen. Hair pushed back into its rightful place. And he was already collecting his sunglasses and earpiece where he had left it on your desk, pushing the earpiece into the back of his jeans and taking his phone out to check it.Â
âFeel better now?â He asked with a hum of interest, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he stood in front of you. Funny that he was trying to sound casual as if he didnât just make you forget your full government name just a few seconds ago, âNext time, just say you missed me. Itâll make it easier for both of us.â He chided although there was the faintest hint of a smile along his lips as he buckled his belt.Â
âWell, um.â You slowly sat up in a daze, âSoâŚâ You shook your head and gingerly slid off the desk. Landing on your feet and fixing them back into your heels that had almost slid off, âOkay...â You finally breathed out with a loss for words, leaning down to pull your underwear back on clumsily.Â
Your hands were shaking from the aftershock still. You wanted to say you felt like a new person, really but you knew that would only make Jeonggukâs already giant head swell more. So, you sighed out tiredly and fixed your clothes. Picking up your glasses that had toppled off your face. You placed the lenses on top of your head and circled around the desk slowly. Grabbing a tissue from the box near your computer to wipe away his release that had already begun to trickle down the inside of your leg.Â
âYou good?â He asked as he watched you struggle to pull yourself together but he made no effort to help because the view of you shakily fixing your appearance made him ecstatic.Â
You ignored him and wordlessly balled up the tissue then tossed it into the trash before wobbling on weak knees to your desk chair. You plopped down with a sigh and grabbed your compact mirror, opening it to look at your reflection. Immediately beginning to wipe under your eyes and the corners of your lips where your makeup had smeared.Â
Jeongguk's eyes drifted to the watch face on his inner wrist and a quiet exhale left him.
Almost six.Â
He made his way over to wear you sat and he leaned against the edge of the desk, reaching out to cup your face with both his hands. Making you tear your attention away from the mirror in your hands as he lifted your head up to look into his eyes when he gazed down at you, âYou alright, baby?â He asked, thumbs swiping across your cheeks where your tears had stained your skin,Â
âIâm okay.â You nodded, staring up at his face. His expression was unreadable. But his eyes held a warmth behind them that you only saw when he was looking at you, âI might have been a bit of a bitch earlier.â You admitted, âIâm sorry.â You said earnestly this time, slowly standing up and letting Jeongguk tower over you while you felt his strong arms slide around your waist protectively, âMaybe Iâll just be honest and tell you how I feel from now on.â You grumbled the last part out, eyes shifting away from his intense stare.Â
Your words settled deep in Jeonggukâs heart and he couldnât help the warmth fanning out through his chest from it, âThatâs progress.â Jeongguk mused out with a nod, âMaybe Iâll ask you before I show up here next time.â He paused, âNo promises though.â He added with a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.Â
You simply huffed in response. Too tired to even argue about how insanely annoying it was that he was borderline stalking you. Instead, your head dropped against the front of his chest while your arms tucked under his jacket and slid around his abdomen. You could barely wrap your arms around his wide frame but you clung onto him anyways. Inhaling the leather and cologne stuck to his clothes and skin.Â
You both hugged each other quietly for a long moment. No words needed to be said. Your mind was goop anyway. Jeongguk seemed perfectly content with the silence too. He pressed his face against the top of your head. Breathing in your scent. Fingers trailing down your spine before he began to shift, his hand lingering along your lower back as though he didnât quite want to pull away yet,Â
âWant me to take you home? I gotta go walk that dog.â He mumbled, jaw shifting in place with mild irritation.Â
He didnât have anywhere else to be but he knew Mrs. Grey⌠that old hag would be waiting by her front door with Pebbles. Leash already in hand. And undoubtedly wondering where he was. Yeah, he could flake on her but Jeongguk made a promise. And unlike most people, he intended to keep it.Â
âIâm already behind on work because of you so, no.â You nodded and began to pull away from his hold to sit back down on your chair.Â
Jeonggukâs attention stayed on you, âRight, right.â He nodded with understanding because he knew how seriously you took your job. That was one thing he actually didnât mess with when it came to you. Even if he invaded your office and spent the better part of an hour distracting the shit out of you. Still, this job was everything to you. He had already taken up too much of your time anyways.Â
"You busy later?" He asked as he began to make his way to the door, "You could come over." He nodded, âI can cook us dinner for a change.âÂ
You let out a soft breath, already knowing the weight behind his invitation. Although you did miss Jeonggukâs cooking. He was a far better cook than you. You had plans you couldnât cancel. Plans you werenât going to ditch just for him because thatâs what you used to do when you were his puppet. Not anymore.Â
You held his gaze before giving him a small shake of your head, "Can't. I'm meeting my coworkers. And a few clients. We're going to the club after work." You nodded as your gaze drifted down to your haphazard appearance, âWell, after I go home and shower now.â You added the last part with a faint smile
His jaw tightened once before relaxing again. His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the floor for the briefest second as though he were sorting through a dozen thoughts he had no intention of sharing before he finally asked,Â
âWhatâs the club called?" He questioned you with curiosity in his eyes.Â
You paused, trying to remember, âI think itâs calledâŚâ You thought more then you shrugged, "The violet rectangle or something like that."Â
That wasnât even the right name, you silly goose. But Jeongguk knew where you were going immediately anyway. The Purple Circle.Â
The club wasnât famous but he had been there before. It was a place where powerful people gathered because they believed the flashing lights and expensive drinks made them untouchable. A place where conversations happened in corners and deals were made beneath the noise.
He wasnât visiting as a guest that time. He came in as The Ghost. Blending into the crowd and following another figure whoâs shadow was swallowed by the movement of people dancing and lights. The place where he followed a man into the bathroom stalls and ended his life with a knife to his neck. Slipping out into the night soon after with not a drop of blood or a single scratch on him.Â
Hearing you casually mention going there with coworkers and clients, the memory surfaced without permission. The same walls. The same thunderous music. The place where he had once entered for work.
And now you were going there. A part of him was bothered by you going to that place in particular. Not due to the fact that you would be with your fellow friends and coworkers. It was more about the fact that a place he associated with blood deals and secrets had somehow become part of ordinary life. Exposing innocent patrons to the atrocities people in his world conducted in plain sight.Â
Jeongguk looked back at you with his expression carefully neutral. You had no idea. No idea how familiar The Purple Circle was to him. But he nodded anyway and his jaw clenched for a moment before he turned away, âCall me if you need me.â He reached for the doorknob, the leather of his jacket shifting as he moved.Â
Before opening the door, he paused long enough to slide his sunglasses back into place over his eyes. The dark tint of the lenses separating him and the rest of the world, "And be careful." He said finally.Â
You opened your mouth to respond. You weren't even sure what you were going to say. Maybe a sarcastic comment. Maybe a reluctant goodbye. Maybe something softer that you would immediately regret letting him hear. But you never got the chance because Jeongguk was already gone. The door closing behind him with a quiet click.Â
You sat there for longer after Jeongguk left. Deep in thought. Eyes on the door he had left through. Memories of those heated moments you spent with him just a breath ago played behind your eyes like a movie scene.Â
He crossed a boundary and made you apologize for it. Manipulated you into thinking you were in the wrong. He didnât even feel bad for it all because he thought he was doing the right thing. Thought protecting you meant control.Â
Thoughts of the ghost that haunted you plagued your mind because after all those evenings spent together. After all the dinners and conversations that stretched longer than either of you expected, you had started to believe maybe you were finding your way back to each other.Â
It wasn't just that he had broken into your office. It was that some part of him still believed he could. That loving you meant having access to every part of your life. That protecting you meant crossing every boundary you tried to set.
You hated that he didn't see the difference. Hated that you didnât confront him for it either.Â
You stood up and crossed to your office door. Making a split second decision. Your fingers hovered over the screen to change the passcode. You hesitated for a long moment. Â
Maybe Jeongguk didn't understand why walking into your office without permission was wrong. Maybe he saw it as concern. Maybe he saw it as love. But you knew better. Love didn't mean someone could unlock every door just because they used to have the key.
Your hand slowly lowered because you couldn't do it. It wasnât because you didn't think you deserved that boundary. And it wasnât because you weren't angry. You were fucking furious.Â
However, changing the code meant admitting that you were shutting him out completely and somewhere in the dark pit of your heart, you didnât want to do that at all.
Remember? Crazy matches crazy? Yeah.Â
You let out a quiet breath and stepped away from the keypad. The screen eventually went dark. The old code remained. And you really hated yourself a little for it. You knew Jeongguk would probably never understand that this was the part that made him so difficult to leave.
No matter how much he hurt you⌠some part of you was always leaving the door unlocked.
Jeongguk reached the street to his motorcycle waiting where he had left it earlier. He swung a leg over the bike and sat there for a moment, one hand resting loosely against the handlebar. The other on his leg.Â
Your words replayed in his head. The club. The Purple Circle.
A hand slipped into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and his fingers found the familiar shape before he even pulled it out. A crushed pack of menthols. The corners were worn, the cardboard slightly bent from being carried around too long. He turned it over once in his hand before tapping the bottom lightly against his palm.
He pulled one free and placed it at the corner of his lips, lighting the end of it with the click of his lighter. The small flame illuminated his face for a second before disappearing. He took the first drag slowly, letting the menthol settle on his tongue.
The taste was cold. A strange contrast to the warmth still fluttering around in his stomach from being around you. Smoking had never been about enjoying it. It was something to do with his hands when his mind refused to quiet down. And today, his mind wouldn't stop.
His mind ran a marathon. Thinking about the fact that you would be walking into a place tonight he knew far too well about. Not knowing about the things hidden beneath its surface. The fact that he wanted to tell you all about it. The fact that he couldn't.
He knew you weren't a target. You weren't an enemy. You weren't someone he needed to study, track, or anticipate. He still treated you like one though. It was like he was waiting for a threat instead of standing beside the person he loved.Â
And then he turned it all around. Making you think you were the one at fault the entire time.Â
He knew it wasn't normal. He knew you deserved something softer than the way his mind worked. Jeongguk wanted to be normal more than he would ever admit. He wanted to love you without analyzing every detail. Without needing to know every possibility. Without turning every feeling into something he had to control.
But this life was the only one he knew. Being The Ghost was the only version of himself he had ever been allowed to become. And even when he was with you, he forgot he didnât need to be a ghost.
The cigarette burned slowly between his lips as he stared out at the street. When it reached the end, he didn't toss it aside. Jeongguk leaned forward instead, carefully pressing the remaining ember out against the metal near the rear of his motorcycle. Close to the tire where it would never be noticed.
Jeongguk waited and made sure it was completely out then he tucked the extinguished cigarette butt into the small sewn pocket hidden inside the lining of his leather jacket. He had learned a long time ago that you leave with everything you came with. That was the rule. No traces. No evidence. Nothing that proved you had ever been there. Disappear completely. Leave nothing behind.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone next, scrolling through his contacts until one name appeared. ěą ěŹ (Chaeksa or The Strategist). The call connected instantly.Â
"Yeah?"
Jeongguk didn't waste time, "I need a favour.â
âWhat you need, twin?â Came the voice from the other end of the call.Â
âNeed a table at The Purple Circle tonight."
On the other end, The Strategist was already figuring out what needed to be done before Jeongguk had even finished explaining what he wanted.Â
He wasnât called The Strategist for nothing.Â
Every operation passed through him before it ever reached the field. And people often mistook his composure for kindness. It wasn't.Â
He stood tall and composed. Impossible to rattle. His appearance was refined without being flashy. All clean lines, tailored suits and the kind of professionalism that suggested he had no interest in proving his status to anyone.Â
There was an intelligence in his face that was difficult to miss. He had sharp dragon-like eyes that seemed to catch details everyone else overlooked. Specks of gray in short black hair. A pair of deepset dimples that kissed his cheeks on the off chance he did crack a smile.Â
His strength was never intimidation. It was his mind. He knew things. He remembered things. Everything. Faces, names and conversations spoken months earlier. He could recall insignificant details everyone else dismissed. To him, nothing was insignificant. Every piece belonged somewhere like a puzzle.Â
If The Ghost was the blade⌠The Strategist was the hand that decided where it fell.
"For yourself?" The Strategist asked after a moment.Â
Jeongguk confirmed, âJust me.âÂ
"What time?"
"Before she gets there."
Jeongguk could picture it. The tilt in The Strategistâs expression. The moment where he registered the request without questioning it, "I'll have someone clear the VIP balcony."
"Nah." Jeongguk mumbled into the phone, "I want the main floor."
The words made the silence last a little longer. Jeongguk listened to the timed breaths coming from the other end of the call. There was a long stretch of silence. As though the person on the other end of the line was in utter shock that The Ghost was requesting a table in the middle of the most exclusive club in the city.Â
It wasnât that the request couldn't be done.Â
It was because it was Jeongguk making this request because another thing Jeongguk despised more than art was clubs. He hated flashing lights. The fucking noise. The constant movement of strangers around him. He hated environments where everyone was trying to be noticed. And he fucking hated sloppy drunks too. Unfortunately, it just so happened to be that clubs had all those things.
Nevertheless, The Strategist finally said, "I'll make the call."
The line ended at once and Jeongguk slipped his phone back into his jacket and reached down, pulling his gloves out from the seat behind him. Slowly, he pulled them on. One hand. Then the other. The leather tightened around his fingers as he flexed them, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street in front of him.
The only reason he ever stepped inside places with boisterous noise and drunk idiots was because he had a job to do. But tonight wouldnât be for business. Tonight, a visit to The Purple Circle wouldnât be for work.Â
And when the time came for the club doors to open later tonight, he would already be seated at a table. Waiting. Yes, The Ghost would be waiting. For you.Â
A/N - My own writing stressed me out to the point where I needed to go smoke a cigarette. Anyways, Iâm done for the day. See you in the next chapter where I make the ghost do more fucked up shit.Â
BTW originally big man was packing 9 inches but i thought that might be tew long for miss girl. 7 inches seemed good enough (ahhh yes the 7 again) dont come for me okay i aint ever seen a big dick irl so idk blame illya rozanov for that or smth
And as always, thanks for reading. I sincerely appreciate every single person that reads and enjoys my incessant rambling. <3
Summary: Christmas comes and goes, and you and Draco are no closer to killing Dumbledore. However, youâre and Harryâs relationship is certainly heating up.
TW: Sexual references, mentions of murder and death (ie planning it), not proofread :(
Christmas Day is the usual. Which is to say, nothing special happens. You donât have a family dinner. You and Severus exchange gifts; he gets you a new book and you get him the newest cauldron.
Draco gives you the dress he promised you. Itâs gorgeous; black with delicate lacing. He didnât appreciate the hair dye, claiming that heâs never ever dyed his own âvirginâ hair. Anyone with eyes wouldnât believe him.
Itâs strange, being in Malfoy Manor without Lucius Malfoy. Quieter. Colder, somehow. The life and soul seems to be sucked out of Draco just by being here. Under the overwhelming weight of his new title and of his fatherâs absence. Youâre both forced to go to two different deatheater meetings, where your father announces how you have successfully charmed âthe Potter boy.â
Your father calls you in on Christmas evening. He sits on a throne-like chair at the end of the Malfoyâs dining room. The table that usually sits in the centre of the room has been removed, along with the chairs, leading to a dark, airy feel to the room.
âI am pleased with you, my daughter. I do hope you will continue to please me throughout your school year. Also, I forgot to tell you that I expect you and young Mr Malfoy to share a room, at Luciusâs request. He wishes for you two to begin your romance.â Your fatherâs free hand absently strokes Nagini, the snake he loves more than you.
âYes, my lord.â You bow your head slightly.
âDo not disappoint me again. Oh, and tell the young Malfoy his time is almost up.â
You nod quickly and leave in a hurry. That night was terrible. When you walk into Dracoâs room heâs sitting on the bed, staring daggers at you. He must have been staring at the door for a while before you came in, because his eyes have a sort of glazed look to them.
You donât bother to say hello. âIâm taking the bed,â you announce, flopping onto the spongy mattress. âOmg Draco this mattress is so comfy,â you sigh, snuggling into the blanket.
Draco has his best, Iâm-a-Malfoy, outraged look and just shoves you off the bed. You land hard on the carpeted floor.
Oh game on. You roll and get to your feet, launching the nearest pillow at Malfoy before dodging his returning projectile. However, youâre not fast enough to dodge the second and you quickly fire it back at him.
After several minutes of this back and forth you both come to a standstill. âI pull rank over you. I get the bed,â you finally demand, holding your status as your fatherâs daughter over him.
âItâs my room,â Draco retorts, eyes staring hard into yours.
âWhy canât you just go somewhere else?â You complain.
âBecause your father would kill me for disobeying him!â
âFine. Weâll just⌠share.â
âShare?â Draco looks truly disgusted now.
âWeâll set up a barrier. Divide the bed into two,â you suggest, beginning to arrange Dracoâs ridiculous amount of pillows into a barrier in the middle of the bed. His bed is more than big enough that it still provides sufficient room for both of you.
Draco nods reluctantly after a moment and starts to help you, before turning away from you, signalling that heâs ready to sleep. Itâs only now that you realise how sparse his room is. It used to be filled with Slytherin memorabilia and quidditch posters. Now, itâs almost laid bare. Clean and minimalist. You can still see the corner of one of his posters, the rest of which had clearly been torn off of the wall. It was safe to say that Draco was wholly disillusioned with petty house competitions and sports now.
You could almost swear you could hear him crying in the middle of the night.
On the night of Boxing Day you decide to go for a walk. Itâs cold, so you wrap up in a scarf and a cosy jumper. Harry would have given you his scarf. You find yourself missing him, and, with little thought for the consequences, you apparate to the Weasleys. Screw the trace.
Harry had given you the Weasleyâs address in passing conversation several weeks ago. High grasses conceal you as you look into the Weasleysâ kitchen. Ron and his family are sitting around the table, laughing and passing plates around. It fills your heart with a biting envy, seeing such a happy family.
You see a silhouette against one of the windows. Moving closer, you realise itâs Harry. Grabbing a stone, you throw it against the window. Harry turns around, startled. His eyes widen comically when he sees you.
A minute later, Harry sneaks out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. âWhat are you doing here?â He asks, taking both your hands in his.
âI missed you,â you whisper against his ear.
Harry looks concerned. âYou still have the trace on you!â
âMy father got rid of that years ago. I can do magic as I please. He didnât want me being tracked whilst he was encouraging me to preform Unforgivables,â you explain.
Harry looks sympathetic until you bend down, bundling up the cold snow and launching it at him. Harry stares, dumbfounded, before laughing and starting a counter attack. Running into the tall grass, youâre out of breath by the time Harry catches you, he stuffs a handful of snow down your back. You squeal and push him away, to which he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close.
âI missed you too,â he breathes. His lips catch yours in a deep kiss. You hold onto him tightly as his tongue collides with yours. Harryâs kissing you like a man starved. His warmth melts your coldness.
After snogging for a substantial amount of time, Harry takes you on a walk around the countryside. He tells you funny stories of Christmas at the Weasleyâs. Your heart burns with jealousy so poignant you almost choke on it.
Harry gives you his scarf, as is your tradition. âIâm going to start keeping these,â you tease him, snuggling in closer to the soft material.
âTake it if you want,â Harry laughs. âYouâre like a cat. Always snuggling up to whateverâs warmest.â
âThat is offensive. Cats eat magpies,â you say in mock outrage. Harry raises his hands in surrender.
âHow was your Christmas?â Harry asks.
âThe usual. Spent the day with Severus and Draco. Draco got me this gorgeous dress,â you sigh happily.
Harryâs grip on your hand tightens. âDoes Malfoy often get you presents?â
âAre you jealous?â You grin.
Harry shakes his head casually. âNo, Iâm just wondering. Do you spend a lot of time with Draco?â He asks, the way he enunciates Draco makes you giggle.
âSo what if I do?â
âIâm just being friendly. You know, Iâm interested in Malfoy. He plays Quidditch. Maybe next game heâll fall off his broom and plummet to his death.â
You elbow him. âDonât be mean Harry.â
âIâm just saying, that would be a terrible accident,â he says, smiling as if imagining Draco suffering a terrible injury.
âYou are so jealous!â You exclaim. âYou do realise if I was interested in Draco I would be with him and not you right now?â
âMaybe youâre two-timing us.â
âDonât be silly. I donât have time for that, Iâm a busy girl.â
âI imagine being a deatheater could be quite time-consuming,â Harry remarks and you give him a dirty look.
âAh yes, what with all the kids Iâm murdering everyday,â you say sarcastically.
âHas your dad tried to make you do anything over the holidays?â Harry asks, taking on a more serious tone.
âNo. Heâs actually pleased with me at the moment. He believes I have successfully ensnared the trust of the chosen one.â
âThat you have. You could stab me right now and I wouldnât believe that youâve betrayed me.â
You frown. âHarry you shouldnât trust me. Iâve told you a hundred times. Iâm a death eater. Sooner or later I will hurt you.â
Harry shakes his head. âThatâs just something you say because youâre scared.â
âHarry I canât betray my father.â
âYou can. You just need to wake up and realise you have free will. You can do what you want. Follow what you believe in.â Harryâs eyes implore you, begging you to see reason. Gently, you push him away a little, creating some distance between you.
âHarry Iâm already doing things. Bad things. Things I canât tell you about,â you whisper.
Harry takes your hand defiantly. âI donât care about what heâs making you do. Some day youâre going to defy him. I know it,â his fingers ghost over your knuckles.
âYou have too high an opinion of me.â
âNo, I just know a good person when I see one. You donât realise it, but youâve already defied him. By being with me. By opening up your heart to me.â With that, Harry takes your hand in his, fingers ghosting over your knuckles.
He pauses for a moment. âMy godfather, Sirius, you remind me of him,â he whispers, voice choked.
Squeezing his hand tightly, you allow him to come closer to you yet again. âIâm sorry that he died.â You had heard the news of Sirius Blackâs death from Bellatrix, who gloated her triumph over her own cousin.
Harry simply nods, unable to bring himself to speak, the scar of Blackâs death still an open, infected wound. After a moment, he heaves a deep, shuddering sigh and begins to speak. âHis family were pureblood elitists. He didnât share their values. He ran away at sixteen and joined the Order along with my father. He defied them, all of them, for his beliefs.â A singular tear runs down Harryâs cheek. You wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.
âI wish I could be brave like that,â you whisper.
âYou can,â is all Harry has to say.
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
A week later youâre back at school. Draco is looking worse than ever. Slughorn was meant to give the mead to Dumbledore already, yet he wasnât yet dead. Neither of you know if Dumbledore had even received the present yet, and, if he had, had he realised it was laced with poison?
There seems to be an invisible clock following the both of you around, reminding you that your time to kill Dumbledore, and also your time with Harry, was coming to a close. Harry was growing more and more suspicious of Draco, and it was hard to try and curb his suspicions.
One cold morning, youâre studying in the library. One thing thatâs surprised you about school is how much youâve loved doing your schoolwork. You enjoy classes, learning even more than Severus ever taught you. It feels good to study for class tests, even if you know you wonât be here next year to complete your N.E.W.Ts.
Youâre in the middle of a particularly grueling DADA homework when Hermione comes over, dropping a heavy tome onto the table in front of you. She looks frustrated, and you immediately hope that itâs not you sheâs angry at- the young witch could be quite formidable when upset.
âWhatâs up?â You ask cautiously.
âItâs Ron. Heâs still going out with that- with that- horrible toad!â She decides on. Your eyebrows fly up, that was quite strong language for Hermione. Then, her eyes meet yours in a sudden manner. âWhat should I do?â She pleads.
You pause. This was surreal, someone was asking you, of all people, for relationship advice? Hesitating for a moment, you try to think of what to say to her.
âHave you tried telling him how you feel?â You offer.
Hermione slaps you lightly with your homework. âI canât do that! That would be catastrophic. How on earth did you get Harry, with that kind of attitude?â
You consider it for a moment. âI kept pushing him away, but he kept pursuing me. And eventually, I let him in. Although I do still tell him not to trust me.â
âWhy canât Ron just chase me?â She groans. You offer her a sympathetic smile, when, suddenly, an idea occurs.
âMake him jealous!â
âAlready tried that. It worked but nothing happened.â
âOh,â you sigh, deflated. Hermione changed the subject, asking you about your homework and you gladly start discussing it.
After a while, Harry joins you, and you help him with his potions. Heâs not very good at it, despite being the one to win the liquid luck in class. It only confirms your suspicions that he had copied all the tips you had shared with Hermione.
Draco comes in, and eyes you and Harry, before retreating further into the depths of the library. Your heart pangs in sympathy, and you get up to follow him. Draco had begun to isolate himself from all his other friends, unable to share the burden that he was carrying.
You find him in the back corner of the library, breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. Sitting down beside him, you place a hand on his shoulder.
âBreathe in, one, two, three, four,â you begin to guide him as Harry did for you that fateful night. Slowly, Dracoâs breathing begins to slow, his eyes look slightly less panicked.
âWe donât have much time left,â Draco breathes, eyes looking desperately into yours.
âWeâll figure it out, Draco. Donât worry.â Your assurances seem false and futile. You should both be worrying. Your father would no doubt kill Draco if he fails this task. He might kill you too.
The weeks pass in a blur. Harry has been so sweet to you that it breaks your heart. He takes you out to Hogsmeade almost every weekend. Your drawers of full with an array of fancy chocolates that heâs bought you. Hermione informs you that he has been really nervous about dating you, and has constantly been seeking her advice on âwhat do girls like.â Apparently not all famous people have natural boyfriend-skills.
The tension between Ron and Hermione has risen to the point where she canât be in the same room with him, sheâs so angry, which has led to her spending more time with you. Itâs nice, to have a girl friend. Another plus is that Hermione is an absolute brain wave, and is always willing to help you with your homework.
Dumbledore still isnât dead. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Draco would have to kill him face to face. Or you would have to. The time youâre not spending with Harry is spent with Draco, devising futile plans that both of you know will never work.
One cold February morning, youâre sitting in Harryâs dorm (he snuck you in under his cloak), and you accidentally let slip to Harry that you were made to share a bed with Draco over the winter holidays. He stares at you for a solid minute before clearing his throat.
âYeah, I mean thatâs cool. Like I share a bed with Hermione all the time. Itâs such a normal, friendly thing to do,â he says, though his eyes seem almost greener with jealousy.
âHarry donât be jealous. My father made us. We even set up a pillow barrier between us and trust me, Dracoâs bed is so big that we were nowhere near each other.â
Harry grimaces. âNow I have the visual of you, in Malfoyâs bed. Iâm just going to drown myself in the black lake,â he surmises, heading towards decidedly towards the famous lake.
You grab his arm and he spins around, and you smash your lips against his own. Harry returns the kiss heatedly, pulling you closer to him. Heâs devouring you, you can almost taste the jealousy on his tongue, along with something a lot sweeter: desire.
You generally try not to be too physical with Harry, because it unlocks a deeper desire within you. It makes you want him so much it scares you, because it hints at something real. Something permanent. Something that can never happen between the two of you. A lasting relationship is just about as likely for you and Harry as your father eloping with Severus in a flip flop shop in Hawaii.
But right now youâre not thinking about the fact that this relationship wonât last. Youâre not thinking about the war, or your father. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of Harryâs lips on yours.
Suddenly, youâre on the bed, and Harryâs on top of you and everything is so hot. The heat if his mouth, the weight of his body. Before you know it, youâre unbuttoning his shirt.
Harry stops suddenly. His eyes look apologetically into yours. âNot- not now,â he says, shifting so that heâs sitting beside you.
âWhy not?â You ask, humiliated and embarrassed. Had you misinterpreted his feelings for you? Was Harry not attracted to you?
âBecause I know you. And I know youâll regret it if we do this on impulse. You like to think things through. Overthink them, to be honest, and I know you donât really want this to happen like this.â
âI think I love you,â you blurt out suddenly.
âI know I love you,â Harry says, taking your hand in his. In a way, youâre glad you didnât lose your virginity on a whim on a random Thursday morning. Harry was right. Maybe he was right about other things too. Maybe thing would be okay.
You still highly doubted it.
Notes: Thank you so much to anyone whoâs reading this. Iâve had this story in my head for a while, but Iâve decided to put it all down for anyone whoâs interested. Also did anyone catch that reference? Also thanks for waiting so long for this! (Next part will take a while soz.)
Thirsty (Vampire BTS x Reader) - Bonus Chapter 3: Yoongi and You (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/944788328-thirsty-vampire-bts-x-reader-bonus-chapter-3?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=kittenandducks He placed torturously slow, sweet kisses all over her neck before biting into her skin. We all watched in complete silence, one you could hear a pin drop in, but not because of the act, we were almost used to that, but because of the girl's breathless moans of bliss that echoed off the walls as he devoured her blood. "People are trapped in history, And history is trapped in them. Do you really think you have the guts to destroy me?".
Harry Hook x reader - ok listen up (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/771642234-harry-hook-x-reader-ok-listen-up?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=kittenandducks You are the daughter of the mad hatter, he may have been a good guy but everyone still thinks he's insane. You grew up hating your father because all of auradon prep is constantly making fun of you or ignoring you completely. They think you're crazy just like your father and that you dress like a villan but they couldn't be more wrong... You finally meet people who start to understand you when the vks come to auradon but you start to wonder if everyone on the island is like them one day you see mal sneaking out and decide to go with her how will your life change......?
In which: Bruce Waynes daughter, Y/N Wayne is a full time party girl. Club hopper, party animal, hedonist. Whatever you want to call it. To full the void her father left, she turns to nightclubs, dingy bars and basement raves.
Chapter ten. Reasons to be Beautiful.
Fic masterlist!
cw: Reader is unconscious, breathing tubes, hospitals, medical talk, inaccurate medical information (i tried but im not a doctor), mentions of addiction, mentions of underage drinking, Reader has bad mental health - I DO NOT CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY UNDERAGE DRINKING OR SMOKING, stay safe stay in school
The wind hits Tim as soon as he walks out of the hospital. If he had it his way, theyâd all still be with you. He trails behind Bruce and Dick with his head low. If you were here youâd tease him about his shrimp posture.
It doesnât feel real yet. This is a waking nightmare. He'll wake up and be in his own bed, and you'll be in the room across from his. Youâll be there, waiting for them. Youâll all eat breakfast together and theyâll treat you like a human being and not a piece of furniture. Itâll all be okay. He just has to wake up first.Â
But it never happens. Each step back towards the car drives that point home. Every step he takes puts more distance between the two of you. No one opens the door. Itâs admitting defeat. Instead, it opens from the inside. Jason sits in the driverâs seat.Â
Itâs not the batmobile, but instead itâs one of Bruceâs personal cars. His eyes have a quiet fury in them. That's new. Normally Jasonâs rage is loud and evident. Somehow this is scarier.Â
âWeâre going to talk. Youâre going to tell me everything. Who is she?â he wastes no time in asking. Tim hasnât even clipped his seatbelt in yet. He sits in the back with Dick, and Bruce sits next to Jason in the front.Â
Bruceâs eyes look hollow. Defeated.Â
âWhen we get back-â
âNo. Now.â Jason pushes back, starting the car and driving at a leisurely pace. âWe have time. Visiting hours wonât be open for, what, another three and a half hours? Should be plenty of time.â His snark makes no effort to go undetected. âWho is she?â
Bruce clears his throat.Â
âHer name is Y/N. Sheâs Nineteen.â He notes that Jasonâs shoulders tense when he hears your real age. âHer mother was⌠we had a thing. Once. It wasnât supposed to be serious. I was young and stupid. I didnât hear anything from her after we stopped. I didnât know she- we had a child. Thirteen years later she comes to the door.âÂ
Bruce has to pause. âHer mother was attacked by a stranger and thrown into oncoming traffic.â
âJesus.â Dick mutters. Heâs heard the story before but it doesnât change how bleak it is.Â
âShe refused to go into the system and I⌠it didnât feel right to send her away. I thought that I could do something good. She grew up living hand to mouth. The apartment was a mess. I thought she could have a better life. That's what I told myself. I thought she should have the chance to be a normal kid.âÂ
âShe fought to be here, Mr Wayneâ
âSo I kept her away. I wouldnât let her get close. I thought about you. I wanted to give her the life you shouldâve hadâ
Jason looks like heâs going to explode. He tries to keep it in but his face betrays him. Heâs got that look in his eye. The one that always sees through Bruce.
âI thought it was for the best.â
âNo you didnât.â Jason cuts him off as he turns a corner. âYou just didnât want to look at her. I know how you think Bruce. If something reminds you that youâre a fraud, you turn it away.â His knuckles tighten on the wheel. They turn white and his nails carve little crescents into the leather steering wheel.
âI know.â Bruceâs voice is uncharacteristically empty.Â
âWhy didnât I know about her? Who else knows?âÂ
âIâve kept her out of the public eye-â
âLet me guess, you thought if the Gotham Gazette snapped a picture of her at the clubs youâd get it in the neck?â Jason huffs.Â
The car goes silent.Â
âYes.â He admits. âAnd I know how the paparazzi treats women like her. Young, vulnerable women. She wouldnât be able to cope with it. So I didnât take her to the galas. I didnât drive her to school. I wouldnât let us be seen in the same room.â he takes a breath in. âI didnât tell you about her because I didnât know how youâd react. I didnât know how to explain you. She knows that you died. How do you explain that to someone?â
âHow Iâd react?â Jason parrots with a scoff.Â
âCmon Jason, you know itâs not completely unreasonable.â Tim interjects. âWhen you came back you were hellbent on destroying everything. He didnât put it past you to use Y/N as leverage. Or a punching bag.â
The car jerks to a halt with a violent screech. Jason whips his head around to the back of the car. âYou think Iâd hurt her? Look who the fuckâs talking! I havenât set foot in her home life and sheâs in a hospital bed- thatâs all you!â he spits to the three.Â
âDonât act like you know how this happened.â Dick defends himself. âYou werenât there.â
âHa.â Jasonâs voice is dry. âNo, youâre right I wasnât there. And whoâs fault is that?â he snaps back to Bruce. âI wasnât there, so I wouldnât know anything about her. I wouldnât know that sheâs a drunk. Or that she only smokes Marlboro golds. Guess I wouldnât know that her first home was on Birch street, would I? No, Iâd never know that she wanted to be a vet, but dropped out. Bet you guys know all about that, right? Bet you know her dealer too. Ah, no, you wouldnât. What did she say again⌠oh yeah, âmy Father canât stand meâ, âmy oldest brother hates meâ, âthey all think iâm a screw upâ.â
The tension in the car grows. âYou guys let this happen to her.â
That does it. Bruce slams his hand against the dashboard. âENOUGH Jason.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Of course Tim knew about the drinking and the dropping out, but what was that last bit, and how did Jason of all people know? âDid you stalk her?â The accusation chills the room.Â
âGod no.â Jason starts driving again. The tension dissipates a little when they start moving. âI met her last year. I was patrolling around the area, round Park Row. She was just a stranger. She was absolutely wasted and alone, so I walked her back.âÂ
âWalked her back where?â
âShe wouldnât let me walk her the whole way. Thought she was afraid of me, she said she didnât wanna bother me more than she already had. I walked her to the bridge on Queenâs river and she made her own way back from there. Then next week she was there again. And the week after. You get the point. She just kept talking the whole time.â
Jason narrows his eyes, âShe talked about you guys a lot.âÂ
Dick swallows a lump in his throat. âWhat kinda stuff?â
âYou know she thinks you all hate her right? That's all sheâd talk about.â
Bruce feels like his throat is getting tighter. Somethingâs choking him.Â
Before he continues, he bites the inside of his lip, deliberating on how to word his next statement. âOne time she asked me to walk her to the train station. She said she was gonna get the first train out of Gotham and never come back. Thought she was joking, but she was dead serious. God she couldnât walk in a straight line but she just kept saying she was gonna do it. After that I didnât see her for a week. Assumed she made it out. Turns out, it was just having a rough comedown- according to her.â
Before they know it, the car approaches the Manor. The sun begins to crest over the horizon. Five AM. No one speaks when they get out of the car. When he opens the door, Bruce is greeted with Alfred. He looks more tired than usual.
âMaster Damian told me everything. Is sheâŚâ his voice drifts off when he canât see you. For a moment he assumes the worst. His perfect posture falters.Â
âSheâs alive.â Dick promises. âThere was a surgery- they got the bullet out, thatâs all that matters right now.â His promise does little to soothe Alfred. âWeâre gonna go back as soon as visiting hours are open-â
âSheâs alone?â Alfred isnât one to interrupt. Heâs too good at his job for that. But when he heard that you were on deathâs door, and now that youâre all by yourself, it cracks him.Â
Bruce could have Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, but you were always Alfredâs. When you came home for the first time, you followed him around like a lost puppy. Always afraid of setting a foot wrong, so eager to make a good impression. If you werenât at school youâd be helping wherever you could. Youâd handwash the dishes, even though they had a dishwasher, or insist on giving him a hand with dinner. When you got a little more comfortable, youâd joke with him. Or ask for help with homework. He remembers the day you asked him to come to your parent teacher conference. Then there was the school play. You were so excited when you got a good part, not the lead, but you still had a good handful of lines and stage time. You reserved a seat for Bruce as well, but that was a bust.Â
On that ride home you asked him why Bruce didnât show. Alfred made up some kind of lie about a board meeting over running. Well, not a total lie, it wasnât a board meeting, but instead it was a meeting with the justice league. How could he explain that to you without exposing everything?
So the image of you, the girl he failed, lying in an unfamiliar bed all by yourself instantly sends him into a spiral. Youâll be afraid when you wake up. He knows you hate being alone.Â
âVisiting hours open at Eight.â Bruceâs voice is steady. âWeâre going to rest and go back at half seven. Whereâs Damian?â
âHeâs asleep.â Alfred replies curtly. Bruce can tell heâs pissed. He has every right to be.Â
Dick yawns. An attempt to settle the air. That's normally his forte. The peacekeeper. But nothing can calm the room. âIâm gonna get a couple hours of shut-eye too. Nothing we can do until they open.â he heads upstairs but turns his head around when heâs half way up. âJason, you coming?â
Jason doesnât say anything when he passes Bruce and takes to the stairs. When he gets to the right floor, he calls to Dick with a lowered voice. âIâm gonna take a guest room. See ya.â Before he can depart, Dick grabs his arm and drags him into the nearest guest room.Â
âWhat the hell Dickhea-â
âYou said she had a dealer. Itâs Roy isnât it?â Dickâs eyes are cold. Theyâve lost the playful spark they normally hold and instead theyâve frosted over.Â
âI donât know wha-â
Before he can lie, Dick pulls out your phone. He has the messages open. When they were driving, he had taken the liberty of going through your phone. Some would call it an invasion of privacy. He would say itâs research. The messages go back further than he couldâve guessed. Theyâre consistent though. That's not even the worst part. Heâs the only person who regularly texts you back.Â
âAre you going to let me talk or are you going to just keep cutting me off?â
Dick says nothing.Â
âOkay, yes. Itâs Roy. Listen, I have nothing to do with that alright? I barely see him.â
âBarely?â
âI let him stay at my apartment. Trust me I donât want him there, but if I know where he is at least I can keep an eye on him.â
âThats how you knew about the acid, right? Did Roy tell you?â Dick pressed.Â
Jason pokes his head around the corner of the door to check if anyone could hear. When he doesnât see anyone, he reels back in. âI was there. Look before you blow up, listen. I thought- shit i donât know- I thought she was grown. I didnât know sheâs nineteen, okay? I thought she was twenty something. I figured she was old enough to make her own decisions.â
âAnd you didnât stop her?? You preached about us not being there for her and you let her get high right in front of you?!â his voice is ripping itself apart. Itâs trying to be quiet but the weight of the words make that hard.Â
âOh yeah Dick, youâre so right. I shouldâve just slapped it right out of her hands, because that's what a normal person would do. Are you stupid? If I intervened sheâd know somethingâs up. Yeah, I was there, but so was Roy. He was keeping an eye on her.â
âWhere was he when she got shot in the stomach?â Dick snaps back.Â
Neither speak. The elder bat takes a moment to think. He has to plan. Dick knows he hasnât been a good brother. But as the oldest, itâs his job to make the plans, to get everyone together.Â
Itâs Jason who speaks first. âI wouldâve been there if you guys let me.â There's a thick layer of malice and venom but underneath the spite thereâs a sliver of vulnerability. Â
He leaves the room before Dick can stop him. His feet lead him to an empty guest room, the one furthest away from anyone elseâs room and he crashes onto the bed. The bed swallows him whole and he sinks into a dreamless sleep, anything to pass the time. Itâs going to be a long, painful day when he wakes up.
Bruce cracks his sonâs door open with delicate care, not wanting to wake him. It is in vain however, because Damian hasnât slept a wink since he got home. Instead, he finds Damian training with the dummy in the corner of his room. Each hit is precise and quick, leaving no room for error. The door creaks and gives Bruce away. Damianâs head swivels, his eyes wide with anticipation until he sees who it is. Then, his arms fall to his side.Â
âWhy are you still up?â Bruce lets himself into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. He taps the spot next to him. Damian takes the hint but doesnât comply.Â
âCanât sleep.â he shuffles uncomfortably. âI donât see the point of sitting around and doing nothing.â He speaks like it's obvious.Â
âDamian, are you okay?â it comes out slowly, like the words themselves could bite.Â
âIâm fine.â It's too quick to be real. âWhy are you asking me? Iâm not the one who got shot.â his voice cracks on the last word and it tells Bruce all he needs to know. He opens one arm out, a âcome hereâ and Damian finally complies. The smallest Wayne slots next to his father and keeps his eyes forward, unable to look at him.Â
âIs she okay?â
Bruce inhales. âSheâs alive.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â Unconsciously Damian worms a little closer to his father. âI asked if she was okay.âÂ
âWeâll visit her soon, youâll see for yourself. Sheâs okay. Everything is going to be okay.â A dark voice nags him in the back of his mind. âYou never sat like this with her.â Would things be different if he did? He wonders which moment set you down the path you were on now, and if he had even been there for it. Could he have steered you away if he was there?Â
âYou did good tonight. You stayed calm.âÂ
Damian bites his tongue. He wants to admit that he wasnât calm. He was terrified. But he doesnât want to know why. Heâs seen blood before, more than anyone his age has or should. People die all the time, so why did your near death experience rattle him so much? Why can he still see the gunman when he closes his eyes? The sound of your body slamming against the ground keeps playing whenever it gets quiet, then it gets followed up by your agonised screams.Â
He knows the real answer. Guilt isnât a new feeling. Neither is shame. Heâs well versed in these emotions. He can recognise them within himself and heâs got practised pushing them down enough times to make it muscle memory. But heâs drowning in it now. If luck hadnât been on your side, for once, your last action wouldâve been cursing at him and pushing him. He knows that's not you, but it couldâve been your legacy.Â
Before last night, he found your insistence on leaving with a âlove youâ annoying. The way you would pester him by knocking until he let you in. You wouldnât let him go to school without saying it on the way out. If he wasnât around youâd text him instead. It used to get on his nerves. But he missed it last night. It couldâve been lost forever.Â
So you have to be okay. You must. That canât be the last time he saw you.Â
The hours drag on until Seven AM finally arrives. Bruce is awake. He didnât sleep. That's nothing new. Instead, he spent the remaining hours in your room. After getting Damian into bed, he went to your room. It certainly looks lived in. The bed is made, Alfredâs doing, and the walls are littered with posters and knick knacks. Photos of you with people he doesnât recognise, movie posters- he didnât know you liked that genre, bands heâs never heard of. Thereâs a shelf lined with books and trinkets.Â
Bruce came in with the intention of packing a care bag. To pack up a few things that might bring you some comfort or pass the time, but when he looks around he feels utterly defeated. He doesnât know which books youâve already read, or which pyjama shirt youâd prefer.Â
âShe likes that one.â Timâs voice brings him out of his trance. He stood in the doorway, with a backpack in hand. Guilty minds think alike. âSheâs halfway done.â heâs pointing to a book on your nightstand. Bruce picks it up and feels the weight of it. Itâs not thick, but instead it's thin. Should be a quick read. It makes him wonder when you started it. Thereâs no bookmark, but instead the top corner of the page has been dog-earred.Â
âDid you get any sleep?â
Tim doesnât need to say anything. The answer is obvious. âI was busy. I saw the pamphlet in your pocket when you sat down earlier. I wanted to do some research.â
âSo. What do you think?â
Tim fiddles with his fingers while trying to find the words. A quirk heâs always had. He didnât notice himself doing it until you pointed it out once. âI think she needs help,â he started, âbut I donât think sending her away is a good idea. Last time she left she got worse, remember?â
When Bruce doesnât reply, Tim assumes he forgot. Of course he did.
âCollege. Remember now? When she dropped out and came back she just⌠I donât know, deflated I guess. It was like all her energy just disappeared. Took her a month to get out of that slump. Do you really think sending her away again is gonna make her any better?â
âWeâll look at our options.â Bruce sighs non comitally. Another reminder of how he failed you.
âBruce, you know I respect you. But if I have to fight you in this I will. We nearly lost her last night, do you really want to lose her again?â his words cut deeper than Bruce thought they could. He was glad for it.Â
The drive to the hospital was rough. The road itself was smooth, but the atmosphere inside the car was rocky. Damian was weirdly quiet, Dick was fidgeting in his seat-unable to keep still, Jason was a timebomb waiting to explode, Tim was tapping his feet against the floor, Alfred kept his eyes on the road as he drove and Bruce was⌠well the brooding wasnât new. That was comfortably familiar.Â
Gotham wakes slowly. Men and women walking to work, cars honking and gulls squawking. Tim watches them all moving. He likes people watching, but itâs only fun when youâre there. You had this game, youâd both pick a person and make up a story for them. Itâs not fun alone. It just makes him realise that the game itself isnât fun, youâre the one who makes it playable.Â
Inside it's clean and for once the ER room is quiet. The sounds of rubber soles squeaking against the tiled floor and the gentle hum of the overhead lights all float around the room. Bruce checks them all in, filling out the guest log with a sea of names.Â
Your room is a couple floors above the ER. Severe trauma. Instead of sharing a room, like most patients would, youâd been given your own small space. Given the severity of the injury. Bruce knows that it isnât so you could have peace and quiet. It was so if you got worse, they could close off the room and not disturb anyone else.Â
The man in charge of the floor isnât the same person he saw yesterday. It isnât the surgeon who warned him about your liver damage. He leads the group to your room, tucked away at the end of the corridor. The floor smells of antiseptic cleaner and bleach. A good sign.Â
He's about to leave the group when they get to the door. âYou can go in when you feel ready. Sheâs not awake yet but sheâs in better shape than she was when you last saw her.â He consults his charts and grimaces. âAlthough we did have to intubate-â
âYou said youâd call if something happened.â Bruceâs voice is sharp and accusatory, weathered by his exhaustion.Â
âIt was an hour ago.â He states bluntly. âWe didnât have any other choice. She stopped breathing for two minutes. Her lungs just needed a kick start. Once sheâs breathing on her own, weâll take it out. Sheâs uh⌠Mr Wayne, a word.âÂ
He peels Bruce away from the rest and he motions for them to wait. Itâs the second time heâs been pulled aside by a surgeon and he knows itâs going to be bad news.Â
âWere you aware that your daughter is a smoker, Mr Wayne?â His voice doesnât hold any fear, even against the billionaire. He almost respects it. âHer lungs couldnât keep up with her body. When we intubated it was because the tissue on her lungs was thinner than it should be. If she hadnât been brought in, we wouldnât have known. We checked her records, she hasnât had a medical checkup in three years. This couldâve been caught earlier. It's not cancerous, thank god, but a nineteen year old shouldnât have that kind of damage. Do you understand what Iâm saying?â
âHow long will she need the tube?â
He hears the surgeon mutter âunbelievableâ under his breath before saying âItâs only temporary. Just till sheâs awake enough to breathe by herself. Then weâre going to start her on Nintedanib. Itâs risky but the alternative is off the table.â
âWhatâs the alternative?â
âPirfenidone, normally. Itâs more effective but thereâs a risk it could cause liver damage. And given the current state of her liver- itâs not compatible.â He looks disgusted. Not at you, but at the man who let you get to this point. âMr Wayne, your daughter is going to be very sick for a long time. The recovery is going to be hell. Are you prepared for this, or are we going to be seeing her back here again? Sheâs going to be in a lot of pain. Donât make it any worse.â The surgeon takes his leave.Â
Bruce canât find the words. He drifts back to his group. When his hand reaches the door handle, he canât open it. If he does, heâll have to look at you again, and heâs not sure he can handle the sight. Dickâs hand is on top of his without a word, and he pushes the door open. They filter in one by one and try not to cringe at the sight of you.
Youâre definitely looking better. The colour has returned to your cheeks, your blood is pumping like normal. But the tube in your mouth takes away from that small victory. The IV drip attached to your arm and the heart monitorâs steady rhythm draws all their attention.Â
At first no one knows what to do. They hadnât really thought this far.
Tim does what he always does when heâs afraid. He tries to problem solve. The chart at the end of your bed is supposed to be for the doctor's eyes only but he canât help himself. It hasnât changed much from last night, but there's a new note about the intubation. It details what happened an hour ago.Â
From what he can read, you were fine throughout the night- or rather early morning- but there was a brief spasm, and then you stopped breathing. They caught it quickly and managed to prevent anything worse from happening, but Tim canât find a reason. That's all he needs, he needs something to show that this makes sense. Randomness is his worst enemy. It makes him powerless.Â
Dick pokes around the room. Thereâs a TV in the corner, cushy, an empty flower pot and the window looks over the west side of Gotham. He opens the window and the sound of the city floods in. It drowns out the beeping monitor. Thereâs a chair in the corner and he makes himself comfy on it.Â
Alfred stands at the foot of the bed, reading over Timâs shoulder. After giving the file a quick glance, he gets to work. He does what he can to make the room feel more comfortable, like Dick did last time.
Damian picks up the TV remote and tries to summon life from the screen. When nothing happens he tries the old reliable- taking out the batteries, swapping them round, and then putting them back in. Still nothing. Misplaced anger bubbles up inside him. He leaves the room without telling anyone where heâs going.Â
Bruce and Jason stand together by the door, their voices hushed. Theyâre trying to work out how to break the news that your âbrotherâ was actually alive the whole time. They go back and forth for a few minutes before they realise Damian left. Jason sighs gruffly. âIâll get him.â
He finds him at the desk on the other side of the floor. Damian is on his tip-toes, his head just a little over the desk. Heâs still a kid afterall. Heâs battling the woman behind the desk, tapping his finger against the wooden desk over and over again. When Jason gets closer, he listens in.Â
âYou gave her a faulty room on purpose! Out of every room in this building you gave her the one room with no TV.â
âIâve already told you, I canât control the room assignment kid. Itâs just bad luck. I can get someone to look at it-â
âThat's not good enough! Do you know who we are? We could buy and sell this hospital! If you do not get my sister a bigger room with a working TV, I will make you wish you were never-â
Jason grabs him by the scruff of the beck- the back of his shirt- and hauls him away, throwing an apologetic hand to the worker behind the desk. Damian squirms and kicks but itâs futile. When they round the corner Jason drops him.Â
âWhatâs gotten into you? You think you can just bully your way into what you want?â
âItâs not bullying.â Damian huffs. âAnd itâs not what I want, itâs what she needs. You saw the size of the room. How dare they cram her into a tiny square and expect her to get better?! Itâs asinine!â
âThe roomâs fine. The machines just make it look small.â
Being reminded of the machines hooked up to your body seems to make Damian uncomfortable.Â
âStop being a nuisance and go wait in the room.âÂ
Damianâs brow furrows but he relents and storms back to the room, muttering out a string of curses as he goes. As soon as heâs gone, Jason goes back to the desk.Â
âSo, about that TVâŚâ
Somethingâs wrong. It all feels off. Your senses come back slowly, all but one. Sight. Your eyes remain shut. Itâs like you arenât strong enough to lift them, emotionally and physically. First you hear people around you shuffling. Who are they? You canât make out every word, itâs like theyâre behind a waterfall. You know they are talking, you just canât put what theyâre saying together. Then your touch comes back. Thereâs something in you. In your throat. The surprise chokes you.Â
Tim snaps his head up when he hears noise. You're choking on the intubator. He runs to the side of the bed and presses the call button over and over again. He doesnât know what to do. If he does nothing, youâll- no, he doesnât want to think of that, but if he tries to remove it himself he knows heâd mess it up and hurt you more. Dickâs already racing down the hallway- but thereâs no need.Â
Two nurses are already half way down the corridor. They enter the room and move to your bed, muscling everyone else out of the way. They work together to get the bed into the upright position, then they unhook the ventilator. The first nurse removes the tube like itâs a deadly snake, holding it with a gentle but firm hand. It slithers out of your throat and Tim feels like heâs the one struggling to breathe.Â
âSheâs breathing by herself. That's a good sign.â The second one promises the family. âMeans sheâll wake up soon.â She offers them a smile but everyone is too perturbed by what theyâve just seen to return it. They didnât think the tube would be that deep. âWeâre going to give her an oxygen mask. Think of it like a helping hand. Her lungs are stable now, but they just need something to lean on.â She talks gently, like theyâre kids.Â
The first nurse leaves and comes back quickly. The mask in her hand slides over your face smoothly and she hooks the elastic up behind your ears. Itâs a lot less invasive than the tube.Â
Once youâve been sorted, they leave but promise theyâll be close if you need them.
That's better, but now thereâs something on your face that feels like a face-hugger. That alien monster from the movie Tim made you watch once. Your consciousness starts to come back like the tide of the sea. It pulls in and out, but each time it pulls in you feel a little stronger than the last.Â
You can taste something on your tongue. Itâs bitter and dry. Like morning breath without the dampness. Despite the taste in your mouth, everything smells clean.Â
Where are you? You know this isnât your bed. Itâs too small.Â
Shit. The woman with the coat. The gun. The party. Batman.Â
It all comes back with a bang. The images flash one at a time in rapid succession.Â
Damian. The tabs. The music.Â
Shit. Are you dead?
Damian comes back into the room and notices the change. âWhat happened?â
âThey said it's a good sign.â Dickâs looking out the window, watching the traffic below. Trying to distract himself from the reality in front of him.Â
âWhereâs Jason?â Bruce looks toward the door like heâs about to walk in at any moment.Â
âBathroom I suppose.â Damian glides towards Dick and shoos him out of the chair. He takes the blue seat and moves it toward the other side of your bed. It scrapes against the ground while he makes himself comfy. âDid they say when sheâs going to wake?â
No, you arenât dead. Youâre alive. So what is this feeling? Wait. Are you⌠disappointed?
Finally, you muster the strength to open your eyes. Everything is white. Itâs painfully bright when you do, but when you move to shield your eyes with your right hand you feel something tugging at your wrist.Â
âSheâs waking up!â Tim sounds like heâs in delighted shock. Hysterical relief hits him like ice water.Â
Once your eyes take a moment to adjust, you take in the sight. Oh. The hospital. Shit, it mustâve been bad. You want to move, but when you try thereâs a sharp, stabbing pain in your lower chest. Like boiling thunder. You canât help but gasp and grit your teeth.Â
Without warning thereâs a pair of hands on you. In terror you whip your head around to see who it is. You take in his face like itâs the first time youâve ever seen him. Bruce is here. He softly pushes your body back to where it was. It mustâve been really bad.Â
âWhatâre youâŚâ the words die on your tongue when you take in the scene around you. Everyone is here. Everyone. All eyes are on you.Â
âItâs okay.â Bruce rubs small circles onto your shoulder. Itâs supposed to relax you but it does the opposite. This doesnât happen. Youâre never seen. So why are they all staring at you? What did you do?
âThere was an accident,â his voice is strangely soft. Heâs never talked to you like this before. Not that you can remember. âYou got hurt. There was a gun, but itâs going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.â you canât tell if heâs trying to convince you or himself.Â
âI got shot?!â it rips out of your throat and it scratches from the inside. Your voice is slightly muffled by the oxygen mask. You want to rip it off and throw it out the window. You instantly look down and see that youâre wearing a hospital gown- when you look down the neck of the gown to your bare skin, you see a line of stitches across your stomach. Itâs fresh and tender.Â
âDonât freak out.â Tim is about to elaborate but Damian cuts him off.Â
âEasy for you to say, youâre not the one in the bed.âÂ
This is a first. Damianâs defending you- or rather he thinks he is.Â
Bruce silences both of them with a look. âYou had surgery. We came as soon as we could-â
âHow?â your voice is groggy and dry.Â
âWe got a call from the hospital.â Dick is quick to lie. âThey said you wanted your dad, so we all came by.â
âOh.â The pieces start to click together. You know you have to take this to the grave. When you were begging Batman to call your dad, you didnât mean Bruce. You wanted Alfred. Youâre relieved to see him there but the guilt is enormous. âYou actually came?â
âOf course we did.â Damian cuts in.
You donât know how to feel. Is this what it took to get their attention? Did you have to bleed to get them to see you? Before the thought can marinate, the door opens. Itâs the guy from Royâs apartment.Â
Jason walks in, pushing the door with his back. He has a new TV in his hands and a smug grin. His back is to the room when he enters, so he is blind to everyoneâs dread. âSee Damian, if you ask nicely, you get things.âÂ
When he puts the new TV down and faces the room, the grin drops. You meet his eye. Your eyes go from his, to Damianâs, and then the rest of the room. âWait⌠Damian, how do you know Jason?â
Bruce feels like the world around him is collapsing. Thereâs no way you just said that. His grip on your arm subconsciously gets tighter.Â
âIs Roy here?â thereâs a hint of dread in your question.Â
Jason runs his hand through his hair with a long face. He grits his teeth and sucks a mouthful of air through the cage in his mouth. âAlright, sit down. Itâs a long story.â
Chapter 10 bb!!!!
This is the longest chapter to date and god does it feel like it.Â
This is the end of part one! Part one is the downfall, and part two is the recovery. I decided I didnât want the story to just be doom and gloom, I didnât just want it to be about a main character who does nothing but suffer. So, weâre going to be on the road to recovery. There will be ups and downs but itâs going to be a story.
Full time party girl, part time daughter. MASTERLIST
In which: Bruce Waynes daughter, Y/N Wayne is a full time party girl. Club hopper, party animal, hedonist. Whatever you want to call it. To full the void her father left, she turns to nightclubs, dingy bars and basement raves.
But when Bruce Wayne finds his daughter in an alleyway, half dead and delirious, he decides something has to change.
Prologue: Before the party
Chapter one: Club classics
Chapter two: Miss world
Chapter three: Sympathy is a knife
Chapter four: Awful
Chapter five: Talk Talk
Chapter six : Petals
Chapter seven: Stay Away
Chapter eight: Heaven Tonight
Chapter nine: I might say something stupid.
Chapter ten: Reasons to be beautiful.
Moodboard: info on reader/ second moodboard
Playlist: Music/ little more info on each chapter / playlist submission 1 / playlist submission 2/ playlist submission 3 / playlist submission 4/ playlist submission 5
Fanart: By MeowingMalleus/ By Princessceebee/ By Princessceebee (2)/ By 77sleepyfeline/ By itzamor/ By Nighttwink/ By Moosilala/ yourfavfae
In which: Bruce Waynes daughter, Y/N Wayne is a full time party girl. Club hopper, party animal, hedonist. Whatever you want to call it. To full the void her father left, she turns to nightclubs, dingy bars and basement raves.
Chapter nine. I might say something stupid.
Fic masterlist!
cw: Reader is injured, reading has seizures, hospitals, surgeries, medical talk, inaccurate medical information (i tried but im not a doctor), mentions of addiction, mentions of underage drinking - I DO NOT CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY UNDERAGE DRINKING OR SMOKING, stay safe stay in school
Is this sinking, or floating? No, maybe itâs nothing. But that canât be it, everything has to be something. So what is this? Why canât you move? Everything is dark, but it's not total blackness, it's more like closing your eyes on a sunny day. A reddish brown colour blinds you. You canât feel your body. Someoneâs talking but it's too far away to hear. Is it your voice?Â
âGET THE CAR!â Bruceâs voice loses its composure and becomes scratchy and raw. Right now, he isnât Batman, heâs a father watching his child die in his arms. Again. At first no one moves, until Dick snaps out of his shock fueled trance and darts out from the alley.Â
The car was parked two streets over. Ten minutes away. He knows he can make it in five. Adrenaline and terror spur him on until heâs only a corner away. Out of instinct, he nearly sucker punches her when a woman in a white coat jumps out in front of him. Dick is able to stop himself before anyone gets hurt tonight.Â
âIs she okay?!â Her voice is hoarse and her eyes are wide, bloodshot. Under her coat sheâs trembling. If he didnât have a onetrack mind right now he wouldâve spotted the drying blood clumped in her hair. âThat girl, is she okay?! She saved my life and I- I didnât know what to do- I left her there! I heard the gun but I didnât- itâs my fault- just please tell me if sheâs okay-â
âItâs not your fault.â Dick promises. Survivors' guilt. He knows the signs. âEverythingâs gonna be fine.â Is he lying to her, or himself? He keeps running. And running.Â
The car door opens with manic urgency and Dick throws himself in. He doesn't bother with a seatbelt. Thereâs no time. The engine screeches to life as the car races to the alley. Heâs sure heâs broken three different traffic laws within a two minute drive but thereâs bigger things to worry about right now.Â
Oh, youâre moving. Your body comes alive again and you regain feeling. You wish you didnât. All you can do is scream in pain when a pair of large hands scoop you up from the ground and lift you up. Every nerve is on fire. The torture eats you from the inside. You can feel everything, but you canât move.Â
Bruce thinks heâs going to be sick when he watches your face twist as you scream. You were supposed to be proof that he could love someone without destroying them. Yet here you were, broken in front of him. No, not broken, breaking. Heâs being forced to confront what heâs done. He stupidly thought that if he kept you away, youâd go. Youâd leave Gotham and find a life for yourself. He could support you from a distance.Â
But his child, his firstborn, is shaking in his arms. Bleeding and screaming.Â
When the car arrives he wastes no time getting you in the back seat. âYou two stay here.â he looks at Jason and Tim. âKeep him down. Wait for the commissioner to come-â
âAre you out of your fucking mind?â Tim spits. His normal, dependable, put together mask has shattered, revealing the terrified boy underneath. âIâm going with her. She needs me.â Heâs already striding toward the car.Â
âThat wasnât a suggestion Red Robin, it was an order.â Bruce shoots down the protest without even looking at him. Heâs too busy loading you into the back and tying his cape around your torso- a makeshift tourniquet.Â
âFuck you mean âshe needs meâ?â Jason interjects, squaring up to Tim. His broader frame casts a shadow over Tim, swallowing him whole but Tim doesnât stand down.Â
âEnough Red.â It comes from Bruce, surprisingly. He turns back to them. âYou are going to take Robin back to the Manor and wait for further instruction.â he points to Jason. âAnd you are going to call the commissioner to take care of him.â This time his finger lands on Tim, and then drifts to the unconscious gun man.
âNightwing and I will take her to the hospital-âÂ
âYOU ARENâT TAKING MY SISTER TO THE HOSPITAL WITHOUT ME.â Timâs voice cracks under its own weight. Itâs furious and feral. Desperate. All the weight in the air vanishes. Silence.Â
Why is it silent? Shit, why arenât you screaming anymore?!
Before Jason can open his mouth, shock evident even behind the helm, Bruce relents. âGet in the car now. Red take Robin back.â When he looks back into the car his heart stops. Youâre seizing.Â
âNOW.â he bellows.Â
The team disperse. Bruce, Dick and Tim leap into the car. Dick sits in the passenger side and Tim crams himself into the back of the car, lifting your head and keeping it on his lap. If you choke on your tongue, its over.Â
Before they can drive, Jason slams his fist against the passenger window. Dick rolls the window down. âWeâll explain everything later-â
âSheâs on acid and ecstasy.âÂ
âWhat-â
âYou gotta tell the hospital. If they give her downers while sheâs got that shit in her system sheâll get worse. GO.â
Bruce doesnât need to hear it twice. Hearing once is bad enough. He tears through the streets like the flash. Everything around him blurs until thereâs just him and the road. Youâre making noise again, that's a good sign at least, but every sound feels like nails on a chalkboard.Â
You arenât speaking, youâre just screaming and wailing. Every now and then something intelligible comes out but itâs washed away by groans and another quick seizure. My. phone. Itâs all he can make out.Â
Tim finds it in your pocket. The screen is cracked but it still turns on. Your lockscreen isnât a picture he recognises. Itâs a party, that much is clear, but he doesnât recognise the location, or anyone in it. Your passcode, your birthday, is typed in and the phone bursts to life. Your homescreen is the same picture.Â
The pained groans continue. But then he hears something. Between the screaming and seizing, youâre still trying to speak. My. Dad. Call. him. Dick looks over his shoulder and meets Timâs eyes. Itâs both crestfallen and guilt ridden. They both know they canât do it.Â
They reach the hospital after a fifteen minute drive. Normally it wouldâve been half an hour, but when death is chasing you, you move quickly. Bruce slams on the breaks and it jerks Dick forward. âYou have to take her in.â
âWithout you? Bruce you canât avoid this-â
âShe wants someone to call her father. I have to get out of this costume. I canât go in like this, it'll blow everything up. Take her in now, Iâll be out in ten.â Tim wants to protest but he knows Bruce is right. He hates it. He hates all of this. Seeing you so powerless, feeling powerless himself. Tim knew you had these⌠moments, where you got in over your head. He remembers the time you fell down the stairs, too drunk to walk in a straight line, or the time you had a depressive slump after a party and wouldnât leave your room for a week. (He researched it. Turns out the comedown from acid causes a temporary depressive mood- and it can last up to seven days.)
But he canât say he didnât see it coming.Â
Dick carries you into the hospital, sprinting through the doors. âWe need help!â a sea of heads turn when they burst through the door. The room smells of disinfectant and fear. Four nurses rush towards the three of you. They take one look at your face and start organising themselves. Codes and orders are shouted to one another, some of them are familiar to Dick, but others are lost on him.Â
When a nurse tries to take you from him, he flinches and reels back.Â
âPlease.â The nurseâs voice is gentle. Dick wordlessly nods but his eyes donât leave you.Â
Tim can only watch as you're placed on a bed and rushed away. âS-sheâs on acid!â The nurses pushing the bed look back at him. âAnd ecstasy.â They nod and continue taking you away. It hits Tim like a hammer to the chest, that this could be the last time he ever sees you.Â
The two leave once you vanish behind the double doors. Their walk is slow and unsure. Itâs like walking on ice. Feeling as if the ground could give way at any moment. Dick breaks the silence. âI didnât mean this,â he promises. âI didnât know she would- I thought it was just drinking- what was she doing there anyway? Why did she do that?âÂ
Tim doesnât like not knowing. He needs structure. Not knowing leaves him vulnerable. So, he finds the answers. He works and works and works himself to the bone to find the answers. But whatâs he supposed to do when he doesnât have any?
Your phone springs to life and knocks him out of his trance. When he looks at the screen he says a name he wishes he didnât.
R. Harp
Hey where you at?
If u went home that's cool but u shouldâve told me.Â
Dick leans over and peers down at the screen. âWhat the hell- HOW THE FUCK DOES SHE HAVE HIS NUMBER?â
When the car is finally empty, Bruce breaks down. He canât unsee the bullet going right through you, or the image of you instantly collapsing like you were already dead. That sound is going to haunt him. He feels like he canât breathe. When you left you mustâve taken all the air with you.Â
How did it get this bad? He knew you had a drinking problem, it wasnât hidden, but he thought it ended there. It was still bad, but he thought it was a better alternative to you being in harm's way. Look how that ended. His child was doing class A drugs right under his nose.Â
If he had been a better person this wouldnât have happened. If he was a better father, you wouldnât have gone down that path. If he was better at being Batman he wouldâve stopped the ring already.
âAlfred, I need you to come to these co-ordinates and pick up the batmobile. Red Hood and Robin should be on their way back to the cave. I need you-â
âMaster Bruce what on earth is happening-â
âRed Hood will explain. There isnât time. I need to go to the hospital.â
âSir if youâve been hurt we can treat it in the cave.â
âItâs not me Alfred. Itâs her.â
Dead air fills the line.Â
âIâll come now sir.â
After changing into the spare civilian clothes he stashed under the driver seat, for times like this, Bruce walks to the hospitalâs door. The walk turns into a sprint. He doesnât care if anyone sees Bruce Wayne running, or if anyone gets a pic and leaks it to the paparazzi, right now you need him.Â
âMy daughterâs here, she came in twelve minutes ago, I need to know where she is.â His tone is sporadic and the sweat beads dripping down his forehead makes his state of mind obvious to the nurse behind the desk. She puts her paperwork to the side and shifts to the computer and keyboard.Â
âName?â
âY/N Wayne.â
He watches her fingers as they glide across the keyboard, finding you in the system. âSays here sheâs waiting for an OR room, youâre welcome to wait here unti-â
âNo, no, she canât wait. She needs a room.â
The nurse looks up like heâs stupid. âSir, we have thousands of patients waiting for a room. Trust me sheâs one of our top priorities right now. The second the room opens sheâs going in. The surgeons need time to prepare for her given herâŚâ the nurseâs eyes shift from looking fed up with him to housing sympathy, âconditions.âÂ
She lowers her voice to keep it private. âThey had to sedate her to stop her from seizing, and it took them a while to find a sedative that wouldnât mix with the stuff in her system. Sheâs on Phenobarbital. Thereâs nothing more I can do for you. Youâll have to just sit and wait until we hear something from the surgeons.â
The pleather chair creeks under his weight. Every second drags. He canât peel his eyes away from the clock. Whispers drift from patient to patient, amazed that the Bruce Wayne is in the same waiting room as them.Â
After a lifetime, thereâs news. The nurse calls him over with a manicured nail. âSheâs in surgery now. If there arenât any complications she should be out in forty five minutes.â
âWhat kind of complications?â his voice is deceptively calm.
âIn surgery there's always the risk of something going wrong but I promise you sheâs in good hands.â Her eyes return to the computer and she grimaces. âIâve been asked to direct you to the pamphlets next to the water cooler.â
He dips his head, a silent thanks, and heads to the rack of pamphlets by the cooler. His heart sinks when he reads the tagline on the front. In bold text it reads: Addiction and recovery. Underneath, in smaller text: Helping yourself or a loved one to recover.Â
Bruce looks over his shoulder, scanning for anyone with a camera, before taking one and tucking it into his pocket swiftly.
Tim and Dick arrive, in civilian clothes, and take a seat next to Bruce. One on either side. He knows their tells. Dick keeps fidgeting with the lowest button on his shirt, rolling it back and forth between his pointer and his thumb. Timâs foot taps against the floor with no rhythm. Bruce puts his arm around Tim and rests his hand on his shoulder, bringing him a little closer.Â
âYouâre gonna tell me everything.â Jasonâs voice echoes around the cave and surrounds Damian from all angles. âWho is she? From the top.â He leans against the console with his arms crossed and shoulders squared.Â
Damian takes a deep breath. âHer name is Y/N. Sheâs Fatherâs first born.â When Jason doesnât interrupt, he keeps going. âShe doesnât know about what we do. Her Mother got hit by a truck and she refused to go into the system. She moved in two months after you, well, you know.â
Jason doesnât blink. âOkay.â Once he digests that information, he presses further. âSo if she's been here the whole time, why am I only hearing about her now?â thereâs a growl lying underneath his voice.
Domain doesnât mince words. âBecause Father thought youâd go berserk.âÂ
Jason isnât proud of who he was when he came out of the pit. The rage and hate warped him, and since his rampaging days heâs been trying to become better. To be human again. He thought that they understood that, he thought he understood. But now he finds out that Bruce didnât trust him. Â
A familiar anger bubbled. âOh yeah? Is that right?â he wants to shout about your late night walks with him, but he chooses to wait. Heâll confront Bruce. Heâll play his cards close to his chest. Jason is angry, but heâs smart.Â
âSheâs out of surgery. The bullet went through but there was some residual shrapnel lodged just under her rib. The shrapnel was cutting into her small intestine but we were able to get every piece out.â The surgeon reads from her clipboard.Â
The weight on Bruceâs shoulders begins to melt. âSo sheâs in the clear?â
The surgeon pauses. âNot quite. Mr Wayne, if I may pull you aside." She gestures towards Dick and Tim. Bruce obliges and steps out into an empty corridor. âShe⌠well thereâs no easy way to say this, she nearly died. Her body was under a lot of strain, it's a miracle she survived. She fought to be here, Mr Wayne. But during surgery we were operating near the liver. Iâm going to be blunt sir, her liver is severely damaged. We only see that kind of damage with alcoholics.â
Bruce has to act surprised. âWhat are you saying?â
âIâm saying that your daughter has been drinking underage, not just recently. Given her age, for the damage to be as bad as it was, she would have to have been drinking for at least five years. Heavily.â
âCan I see her?â
The surgeon nods. âGrab your sons and Iâll lead the way.â
âSheâs not up yet, we canât say when she will be, but youâre welcome to sit until visiting hours are over.â She closes the door behind them to give the three some privacy.Â
Tim thinks heâs going to be sick. Your face has lost all colour and emotion. That smile you always had when you teased him is gone. Your eyes are shut. Dead to the world. If it werenât for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor next to you, heâd assume you were no longer among the living.Â
His eyes trail to the folder at the foot of your bed. He canât help himself. It details your surgery and the steps the hospital will need to take for you to recover. Pabrinex and Diazepam. He grimaces. Those are prescribed for people with alcohol withdrawal. Morphine and Dabigatran. Pain killers and an Anticoagulant.Â
Dick starts fussing with the room. He draws the curtain and draws the blanket a little closer to your chin. Anything to make the room feel less like a hospital room. When heâs done all he can he sits by the window and takes in the sight with defeat.Â
Bruce sits next to you. Up close, he notices something he didnât realise he never saw. The shape of your nose, and how it looks more like your motherâs at the base but the bridge looks more similar to his own. Not identical, but similar. It's something so, so small but it forces him to admit to himself that this is the closest heâs been to you in a long time.
When he holds your hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles he canât remember the last time he held your hand. He mustâve held it before. Surely. But the memory doesnât come.
Dick checks his phone when it vibrates.Â
Jaybird
Alfred is home. Damian is with him. Iâm on my way. We need to talk.Â
A knock comes from the door. It's a different person this time, a doctor. "Visiting hours are over." His voice is soft but firm. "You can come back tomorrow morning. They open at Eight."
When no one moves, he clears his throat. "If something happens to her, we'll let you know."
The promise works, and the group shuffle out. Bruce is the last to leave. He takes one last look at you and its like he's trying to commit you to memory. Something has to change. He promises he'll be better. You just have to wake up first.
Chapter 9 baby!!!
I rlly deliberated on this one bcs i wanted to make it jason centric but in the end i decided to make chapter 10 the jason focused one. Theres a lot to do so I think he needs his own chapter. Hope u guys enjoy!
summary: sneaking into fred weasleyâs room was never meant to mean anythingâuntil it suddenly did
word count: 3.9k
masterlist
The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when you stirred, tangled in a mess of warm sheets and Fredâs arm slung across your waist.
His dorm was quiet, save for his soft breathing and the occasional creak of wood as one of his dormmates shifted in their sleep.
For a long moment, you didnât move.
Fred was warm behind you, his bare chest rising and falling against your back, his hand resting just under your ribs like he had every right to be there. It was easy to pretend, in moments like this, that the space you occupied in his bed was the same as the one you occupied in his life.
You turned your head, catching sight of his tousled hair and the faintest hint of a smile on his face, even as he dozed. There was a tenderness to him in sleep, a kind of softness you rarely got to see when he was fully awake and full of mischief. You let your gaze trail over the freckles scattered across his shoulder, letting yourself trace invisible constellationsâquietly, foolishly hoping they might lead to something more certain.
It felt safe hereâlike nothing else existed but the two of you.
âYouâre staring,â he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
You flinched, caught, and his grin widened without even opening his eyes. âWas not,â you whispered back, careful not to wake anyone else.
âWas too,â he countered, finally cracking one eye open. His hand slid to your hip, fingers curling slightly as if to keep you there.
âI have to go,â you said, but you didnât move, and he knew it.
Fredâs grip tightened. âDonât.â
His voice carried a teasing lilt, but something in it made your breath hitch. You didnât want to give it a nameâbut it wasnât nothing.
âFred,â you warned gently, trying not to laugh as his leg draped over yours, pinning you in place.
âStay,â he whispered, leaning closer until his nose brushed against your temple. âWhatâs the worst that could happen? We get caught? Big deal. Iâll tell them you were helping me study.â
âThis early? And for what, exactly?â you teased, finally turning to meet his gaze.
Fred smirked, mischief lighting up his features. âAdvanced Wandwork. Youâre an excellent teacher, you know.â
You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd yet, here you are.â His hand skimmed down your arm, catching your wrist and tugging you closer. âDonât go.â
Your resolve wavered. It always did when he looked at you like thatâunguarded, open in a way that made it hard to breathe. Like maybe this meant more to him than you were allowed to believe. Like maybe the rules you told yourself not to breakâdonât hope, donât ask, donât want too muchâwere already fraying at the edges.
âIf I donât leave now, Lee will wake up and start asking questions,â you whispered.
Fred groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. âFine, but only because I care about your reputation or whatever.â
âOr whatever,â you echoed, sliding out from beneath the covers. The chill of the dormitory hit you immediately, and you shivered as you gathered your clothes from the floor.
He watched you, propped up on one elbow, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked absurd. He looked perfect. And you hated how much you wanted this to mean something more.
He didnât say anything until you were pulling on your shoes, your back to him.
âHey,â he called softly.
You turned, and he was watching you againâclosely this time, like he might miss something important if he blinked.
He grinned, boyish and bright. âIâll miss you.â
Your cheeks warmed, and you tried to hide your smile. âIâll see you at breakfast.â
âDoesnât mean I wonât miss you.â
You rolled your eyes again, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little harder in your chest. âGo back to sleep, Fred.â
âCome back tonight?â he asked, quieter now. Less playful. Like a question with layers.
Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.
âGood,â he said, sinking back into the pillows. âSee you later.â
You slipped out the door, your steps careful and quiet, but your thoughts were loud. You told yourself not to read into it. Not to get carried away. But Fredâs voice lingered, soft and stubborn in your head.
⸝
The common room was eerily quiet, the hour so late it bordered on early. A chill hung in the air, and the last embers in the fireplace had died to ash. The silence felt heavier than usual, like the castle itself was holding its breath.
You glanced over your shoulder before ascending the boysâ staircase, your steps instinctively light, avoiding the creaky spots youâd learned to memorize through too many nights like this.
Fredâs door was slightly ajar. The moonlight spilled through the high windows, casting silver shadows across the floor and tracing the outlines of the beds. He was already awakeâwaitingâhis head lifting from the pillow as you slipped inside and eased the door shut behind you.
âTook your time,â he whispered, voice rough and low, soft enough to blend into the quiet.
You rolled your eyes as you crossed the room, your movements fluid, familiar. âYou try sneaking past Angelina without a plan. Sheâs like a human Secrecy Sensor.â
Fred smirked, his hair sticking up in every direction as he sat up. âWell, we wouldnât want her catching you, would we?â
His tone had lightened, teasing as always, but his eyes lingered on you in a way that made your breath catch. There was something else behind his gaze tonightâsomething quieter, more watchful. A pause you didnât quite know how to name.
âCome here,â he murmured.
You didnât hesitate. The bed creaked softly beneath you as you slid in beside him, his arms winding around your waist like second nature. His lips found yours in a kiss that was brief but grounding, like an unspoken reassurance. You felt him smile against your mouth before he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.
âHi.â
âHi,â you whispered back, matching his smile without even thinking.
His fingers traced lightly along the back of your neck, his touch feather-soft and easy. âYou didnât wake the others, did you?â
âOf course not,â you said, mock-offended. âIâm stealthy, remember?â
His eyes sparked with amusement. âLike a thestral in a china shop.â
âWould you rather I didnât come?â
âNot a chance.â
The stillness returned, settling around the two of you like a blanket. He lay down beside you, and you curled into him, his arm pulling you close, your head tucked beneath his chin. It was a rhythm youâd grown used toâthe way your bodies fit together, how his warmth filled the spaces the cold left behind.
But even as you relaxed into him, even as his fingers brushed gently along your arm, you still sometimes felt itâthe hesitation, so slight it was nearly imperceptible. Like he wasnât sure if he should hold you so tightly. Like he was always half-waiting for the moment you might pull away.
âCold?â he asked, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your sleeve.
You shook your head. âNo. Youâre warm.â
âGood.â His hand stilled, thumb brushing back and forth in slow, lazy arcs. You listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, willing yourself to sink into it, to let it lull you into sleep.
And for a while, it did.
But sometime later, you startled awake, breath caught in your throat, chest tight in a way that had no name. The room was dark, the world too quiet, and you felt unmoored.
âHey.â Fredâs voice slipped into the quiet, groggy but alert. He stirred beside you, his arm tightening protectively around your waist. âWhatâs wrong?â
âIââ You paused, unsure. âI donât know. A nightmare, I think.â
He was silent for a long beat. Then his hand moved to rub soothing circles over your back. âYou okay?â
âI think so.â
Fred shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. Moonlight outlined his profileâhis furrowed brow, the crease between his eyebrows, the softness in his eyes. âYou want to talk about it?â
You shook your head, feeling suddenly small, the edges of the dream already fading but leaving something raw behind. âNo. Iâm fine.â
âLiar,â he said lightly, though his gaze didnât waver. âYouâre terrible at lying, you know.â
You gave a weak smile. âIâm not that bad.â
He hummed, unconvinced. âYou always do this thing with your nose when youâre lying. It scrunches up, just a little.â
Your brow furrowed. âIt does not.â
âIt does.â He grinned and reached out to tap your nose. âSee? There it is.â
You batted his hand away, the gesture soft and half-hearted. âYouâre making that up.â
âAm I?â
His tone was warm, teasingâbut gentler than usual. His hand ghosted over your shoulder, grounding you.
âFred, Iâm serious.â
âSo am I.â His voice quieted. âLook, if you donât want to talk, thatâs fine. But if I see your nose scrunch up again, Iâm going to assume youâre secretly plotting against me.â
You laughedâa small, real sound that surprised even you. You buried your face in his shirt, muffling it.
âThere it is,â he said again, softer now, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.
For the rest of the night, Fred didnât fill the silence with jokes or mischief. Instead, he whispered half-thoughts and soft nonsense, his voice like a hand held out in the dark.
You didnât sleep again, not reallyâbut it didnât matter. He stayed with you, the space between you full of warmth, and care, and the quiet ache of something too tender to name.
⸝
The corridor was unusually quiet for midday, the usual crowd thinned by lunch and looming N.E.W.T. panic. The air had that soft, golden glow of early springâsunlight catching on dust motes and making even the dull stone floors feel a little warmer.
Fred was walking beside you, arms crossed behind his head like he hadnât a care in the world. He nudged you lightly with his elbow every few steps, clearly enjoying himself. Youâd been laughing for the last five minutes straight.
âAnd then he goes, âFred, thatâs not a Flobberworm, thatâs my shoe!ââ
You gasped, half-disbelieving, half-dying of laughter. âYou didnât.â
Fred looked smug. âIn my defense, it was dark, and the shoe was moving.â
âNo, it wasnât!â
âWell, it could have been,â he said, grinning. âIt mightâve been cursed.â
You shook your head, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. âYouâre an idiot.â
âOnly for you,â he shot back, and for a second, neither of you said anything. Just that quick silence that hangs between two people who arenât quite sure if something has shifted.
You looked away first, cheeks warm, smile lingering as you both rounded a corner.
âI was thinking,â he said after a beat, nudging your shoulder again. âAbout tonight.â
You raised a brow. âOh?â
Fred looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes before he smirked again. âCome to the Astronomy Tower with me.â
âWow,â you deadpanned. âSo romantic. Gonna push me off?â
He laughed. âNah. I was thinking something more subtle. Like poison.â
âGood to know youâve been planning this.â
âAlways.â His voice was warm, teasing, but then he added, more softly, âJust come. We wonât get caught. And itâs supposed to be clear out tonight. You like stars, right?â
You blinked, thrown by the sudden sincerity underneath the mischief. âI do.â
âGood. Then itâs a date.â
He said it easily, like he didnât think about it too hardâbut your stomach still fluttered.
âA date, huh?â you echoed.
But before he could answer, you heard a loud echo of footsteps behind you.
âOi, Fred!â
The sound of running footsteps broke the moment as Lee and George rounded the corner, both slightly out of breath.
âThere you are,â George said. âYouâre gonna make us late.â
Fred gave you an apologetic smile. âDuty calls.â
âSee you later,â you said, still smiling, a little dazed.
Fred started to walk backward again, that grin of his never fading. âYou better.â
You turned, starting down the corridor in the opposite direction, his laughter still echoing faintly behind you. The smile stayed on your lips, light and warm.
Untilâ
âWait, wait, hold on,â you heard Lee say, his voice drifting down the corridor. âAre you twoâare you dating?â
Fredâs answer came a beat later, casual and light. âNo. Itâs nothing serious.â
The words landed like a slapâso casual. So thoughtless.
Your breath caught, your smile freezing in place before it slowly slid away. You kept your eyes forward, forcing yourself to keep walking, like the comment hadnât lodged itself somewhere under your ribs.
Behind you, George or Lee said something elseâmaybe a joke, maybe nothingâbut the words blurred in your ears, drowned out by the sudden quiet inside your chest.
You didnât look back.
You just walked, his voice echoing in your mind.
âItâs nothing serious.â
Funny how everything could feel so serious only seconds before.
⸝
You didnât go to the Astronomy Tower that night.
You meant to. You really did.
You sat on the edge of your bed with your shoes on and your jacket in hand, eyes trained on the clock as it ticked past each minute, slow and cruel. You imagined him waitingâhands shoved into his pockets, hair windblown, looking up at the stars and maybe even thinking of you.
But then you heard his voice again in your mind.
âItâs nothing serious.â
Casual. Effortless. Like it was obvious.
And suddenly, everything inside you curled up tight.
So you stayed in bed. Lights off. Eyes open.
⸝
The next morning, you skipped breakfast.
The morning after that, you took a different corridor to class. By the third day, you were running out of detoursâFred had a knack for showing up where you least expected, like the universe was conspiring against you.
But you were good at pretending. Better than you expected. You could laugh at jokes, nod at friends, sit through lessons without flinching. You could go an entire day without looking over your shoulder.
Still, you felt him everywhere.
In the way your chest tensed when you passed the Astronomy Tower.
In the way your fingers twitched every time someone said his name.
In the ache behind your ribs when you lay in bed alone, remembering how he used to say âstayâ like it was the easiest thing in the world.
⸝
Fred cornered you four days later.
Youâd nearly made it out of the library, arms full of books, head ducked, doing your best to blend into the late-evening crowd. But he was fast, stepping in front of you with no warning, like heâd been waiting for the exact moment youâd try to vanish again.
âOkay,â he said, voice tight, eyes sharp. âWhat the hell is going on?â
You blinked up at him, heart crashing against your ribs.
âI donât know what you mean,â you said quickly, the lie scraping against your tongue.
Fred narrowed his eyes. âReally? Because I havenât seen you in days. You didnât show up the other night. Youâre avoiding me.â
You tried to step around him. He stepped with you.
âTalk to me,â he said, softer now. Pleading.
The dam cracked. Just a little.
âIâm busy,â you said. âThatâs all.â
He scoffed, taking a step closer. âBusy avoiding me, maybe. Did I do something? Because if I did, just tell me. Donât shut me out.â
Your jaw tightened. âIt doesnât matter.â
âYes, it does,â he insisted. âYouâre acting like Iâlike I hurt you.â
That did it.
You laughed, bitter and breathless, the sound cracking down the middle. âWell, thatâs funny.â
Fredâs expression faltered. âWhat?â
Your hands curled around the edges of your books, knuckles white. âYou donât get to act confused, Fred.â
He took a step back, like your words had physically shoved him. âIâI donât understand.â
âNo. You donât,â you said, the anger bubbling up now, hot and sharp. âYou donât get to ask me whatâs wrong after saying it wasnât serious. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.â
Fred blinked. âWait. What are you talking about?â
âYour friends asked if we were dating,â you said. âAnd you justâjust brushed it off. âItâs nothing serious.â Thatâs what you said.â
Silence.
He stared at you, mouth slightly open, like he couldnât quite believe what he was hearing. Like it hadnât even occurred to him.
And that hurt worst of all.
âYou looked me in the eyes and made plans with me right before,â you went on, voice rising, cracking. âYou kissed me. You asked me to stay. And then the second someone askedâyou couldnât deny it fast enough.â
Fred opened his mouth.
No words came out.
You shook your head, the ache in your chest swelling so big you could hardly breathe around it. âWhy do you care if I disappeared? You made it pretty clear Iâm just some secret youâre not willing to admit to.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â he said, but it was too quiet. Too late.
You stepped back, throat tight, vision blurry around the edges. âWell, congratulations. Message received.â
And before he could find the wordsâor maybe just admit that he didnât have themâyou turned and walked away.
This time, he didnât stop you.
And it was worse than if he had.
⸝
The days that followed passed like a slow bruise.
Nothing dramatic. No storm. No outbursts.
Just silence.
Fred didnât try to talk to you againânot really. Not in the corridors, not in the common room. He looked, though. You felt it. In every hallway. Across every meal. Like he was watching from across some invisible line he didnât know how to cross.
And youâwell, you tried not to let it show.
You sat with your friends. You laughed at the right moments. You handed in assignments. You did everything you were supposed to do. And still, it felt like something inside you was holding its breath.
You didnât cry. Not really. Just stared at the ceiling some nights with your chest hollowed out and your throat tight and told yourself this was better.
It was better, wasnât it?
Because youâd known. Deep down, youâd always known. Fred Weasley didnât do serious. Not with you. Not with anyone.
He never said forever. Never promised anything. Never used any of those words people use when they mean more. He was fun and warm and reckless, and it had been easy to believeâfor a whileâthat maybe you were the exception. That maybe, just maybe, this was something real.
But now, you knew better.
And still, every time the door opened, some small, stupid part of you looked up. Hoping.
⸝
He found you again in the corridor outside the Charms classroom, just after the bell had rung and most students were still filtering out in clusters of noise and motion.
You hadnât seen him coming.
He didnât speak at first, just stepped into your path, not blocking youâjust⌠there.
You froze.
Fred looked awful. Hair a little messier than usual. Circles under his eyes. And a strange kind of stillness that made you nervous, because Fred never stood still. Not like this.
âCan we talk?â he asked.
Your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag. âI donât think thatâs a good idea.â
âPlease,â he said, softer now. âIâI donât know how else to fix this.â
You looked away. âI donât think you can.â
Fredâs mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.
He tried again. âWhat I said. That day. About us not being serious. I didnât mean it like that.â
You forced a laugh, bitter and quiet. âHow else could you have meant it, Fred?â
âI panicked,â he admitted, eyes searching your face. âThey asked, and I said the first thing that came to mind. I didnât want them to start teasing or asking questionsâI just didnât think. I didnât mean for it to sound like you donât matter.â
âBut thatâs how it sounded,â you said, voice low. âAnd you didnât come after me. You didnât say anything until now.â
âI didnât know how,â Fred said. âI didnât know if I had the right to.â
You met his gaze then, and for once, he didnât smile. Didnât try to joke. Just looked at you like heâd run out of masks to wear.
âI like you,â he said, the words breaking open something in his chest. âIâve liked you for a while. And I never said it because I didnât want to mess it up. I thought if I justâif we kept things easy, itâd be enough. But it wasnât. Not for me. And obviously not for you, either.â
You felt your throat tighten.
Fred stepped closer, careful, slow, like you might vanish again. âYou matter to me. Youâre not nothing. Youâve never been nothing. I didnât know how to say that before, but Iâm saying it now.â
You stared at him.
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But something inside you still bristled, still remembered how easily heâd brushed it off when someone else was listening.
âI donât know if I can go back to how things were,â you said, voice trembling. âI donât want to feel like Iâm waiting around for you to make up your mind.â
Fred shook his head. âI have made up my mind. I just made a mess of showing it. I get it if you need space. I get it if you donât believe me. But Iâd rather wait for you, even if it takes ages, than pretend I donât care. Because I do. So much more than Iâve ever said out loud.â
You didnât respond right away.
Because even now, you werenât sure if letting him in again would break you all over. But you werenât sure if walking away would hurt any less.
And yet⌠when you looked at himâreally lookedâyou saw it.
Not the cocky grin. Not the easy charm. Just Fred, stripped down to something raw and honest. He wasnât trying to win you back with clever words. He was just standing there, hoping youâd still let him try.
You swallowed hard, blinking past the tightness in your throat.
âI believe you,â you said softly.
Fredâs shoulders dropped, like heâd been holding his breath without realizing it. He took a small step forwardâand this time, he didnât stop himself.
âI do,â you repeated, steadier now. âBut if this is going to mean somethingâif weâre going to tryâI need you to take it seriously. No more hiding. No more brushing it off when it gets inconvenient.â
Fred nodded immediately, eyes locked on yours like he didnât want to miss a single word.
He hesitated, then gave a small, crooked smile. âAlright. No more hiding.â
A pause.
âUnless itâs you sneaking into my room again. I think we should keep that part.â
You tried not to smile. Failed completely. âOh, do you?â
âAbsolutely. Itâs the only way I get any decent sleep.â
You rolled your eyes, but when he stepped closer, you didnât stop him. And when his arms slid around you, careful and warm, you let yourself lean into him.
It wasnât a grand gesture. No dramatic declarations. Just the quiet press of his forehead against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the strange, wonderful feeling of finally being in the same place at the same time.
You closed your eyes for a moment, and for the first time, it didnât feel uncertain.
It felt like a beginning. One you actually wanted.
Do you think Hestia as the goddess of the Hearth, felt the kids of camp pulling away to go to Kronos side. Do you think she sat their around the fire wondering if she could have done something to prevent those kids- Because yes thats what they are KIDS- from leaving. But she cant because she's a goddess and she cant interfere.
cw: gender neutral reader ! mentions of a f*ther omg. iâm sorry. if thatâs triggering, mine is absent too. đ mentions of blood loss, fighting and death so yep . fluff to angst, the whole package ERYTHIN in here. a word count of 2K i feel like a poet writing something so beautiful in short words it makes me feel accomplished. enjoy + like bcuz i sacrificed 2 hrs for this lol
youâre a child of nike, no matter how dire the situation is, you always come out triumphant. you can always win in your favor.
you never lacked in strength, it was clear to those around you.
maybe it was when you barely slayed a monster at just thirteen years old, desperately tugging and dragging your father out of a burning car to come with you to camp.
but he never got up.
maybe that was when you lost as a child of nike.
but you didnât know that. you were only thirteen.
something was etched into yours bones, your blood. you were a child of nike, after all. victory was more than a name. it was a promise. a threat to past successors, even.
at camp, kids learned quickly: if they had you on their team, you cheered. If they didnât, they prayed.
you were always first. in races. in battle. in arguments. even in pranks. (travis and connor canât seem to get enough of you). there was no prize you hadnât claimed, no contest you hadnât dominated and came out to be first. the nike cabin overflowed with gold ribbons and celestial bronze medals.
but winningâtrue winningânever felt real until youâd met luke. luke castellan, the golden boy at camp and the respectable son of hermes. and the best swordsman at camp in three-hundred years.
you remember how you met him: at dusk, near the archery field, where the sun was always present and was always gold and warm. he had a wide grin, his hands into his jean pockets and eyes of longing and admiration.
he was fascinated: who wouldnât be? the only child of nike could win without her blessings but with pure unmatched talent and will. with her blessings, you were just as powerful.
he came over to your side, standing tall next to you and looking into the sun setting ahead of him.
"you fight like someone who hates to lose," he said, a cheeky smile creeping on his face as he glanced at you, soft cerulean eyes looking into yours.
you tilted you head. "i wouldn't know. i always win.â
he laughed, and it wasn't mocking. it was warm. honest. you werenât used to it, since most of the kids would mock you for not having âreal talentâ and only winning all the time because you had your mother: goddess of victory on your side and her constant support.
but luke was different from the others. he didnât just admire your victories. in fact, he wanted to see if you could beat the best swordsman at camp (and eventually, it did happen but nobody won. it was an equal tie.)
but questions always lingered in the back of his mind: why did you always need to win? what was your purpose of fighting anyway to always win?
no one had ever asked you those things before. itâs not like they dared to. no one had ever looked at you and seen someone other than a victor.
he didnât treat you like a trophy.
he didnât treat you like a meaningless certificate to be thrown away.
he treated you like a personâ a normal, average demigod.
so maybe thatâs why you started losing. for the first time.
not in battle, no. but in time. in sleep. in vulnerability. gods, luke made you laugh so hard you lost control. he made you miss a step, sometimes on purpose. he made you forget why you always tried so hard.
and it felt good to forget about winning all the timeâ it felt refreshing to breathe for once and realize that you are just like any other demigod.
you guys got closer and closer, you started counting less victories, less wins and counted how much time you spent with him.
those victories meant something to you, sure, but not as much as luke meant to you.
he called you "champ." not mockingly. not reverently. just because it fit you, and just because he could.
âheya champ, whatcha been up to?â luke calls out to you, jogging towards you with a basket full of fruits in his hands, that same annoyingly handsome yet charming smile on his face. the same one you couldnât help but fall more and more in love with when youâd catch him looking at you sometimes.
ânothing much. just winning, as per usual.â you put your hands on your hips, fake cockiness rolling off your tongue. your facade canât help but crumble when you see luke chuckle at your words. he always does that stupid laughâ and itâs putting you in some sort of trance each time you hear it.
âi brought you these. thought you might be hungry after all that practice.â his hand is outstretched, almost pushing the basket your way. âyou havenât eaten all day. âm tellinâ you, âs gonna kill you one day.â he jokes, but you can sense the warmth and care in his tone.
âwhatever, let me see whatâs in here.â
you eagerly look in the basket, carefully rummaging through everything.
âholy shit! you got all the good stuff in here,â you flash luke a grin. âthanks.â
you and luke walk to a nearby bench, crashing down on it and snacking on the fruit from the garden like under fed dogs.
âthese are good- a little too good. whereâd you get âem from?â you ask before popping a strawberry into your mouth, looking at all the campers talking and playing with each other nearby.
âthese garden, of course. where else dâyou think iâd get âem from?â he laughs dryly, using the back of his hand to wipe off the sweat off his forehead. luke is trying his damndest to not confess to you on the spot. in reality, he woke up early in the morning (he was an hour late since he went back to sleep on autopilot) and had an unfortunate fate of meeting the blistering, hot sun and clammy hands. poor luke. if only you knew how much the kid did for you.
âokay⌠well, i think you did somethinâ to these strawberriesâŚâ you give luke a suspicious look before chuckling lightly.
youâre a child of nike, you always win. triumphant and victorious. but what happens when you lose everything?
you should have seen it coming.
you are nikeâs child, after all. winning was in your blood. but youâve grown too used to victory, too used to having luke at your side. you hadnât noticed the storm brewing beneath his surface. the bitterness. the anger at the gods. the âjokesâ he made of ruling a world without the gods and having you by his sideâ how he said the gods didnât care about their own children, leaving them to fend and fight for them until they thought they were worthy of being recognized for (barely) a second.
luke had already begun to slip, you just decided to ignore and disregard it. thinking it would change him. how it change how he felt about the gods and leave it as a nothing but an insignificant memory.
you tried to reach him. you swore you would stand by him, even when he whispered things like,
"the gods don't care about us."
even when he asked, just once,
"would you still love me if I fought for the other side?"
you didnât say yes. nor did you say no.
the tears were hot, brewing and threatening to spill. you whispered, "luke. pleased donât. donât say things like that. please.â
but itâs not like you were a daughter of aphrodite. your words weren't built for persuasion.
and so you lost the only ever good thing that came out from not winningâ the one thing that you didnât need to win or fight for.
youâre a child of nike, youâll be the everlasting winner and not even time will defy you. but what happens when that constance breaks?
"champ," luke said. his back biter pointed at you. the look in his eyes were so different from when you had him. his eyes: so empty, soulless and angry. but not at you. at them. at the gods. because maybe, just maybe, if they worked a bit harder and fought for their kids, maybe fate wouldnât have been this cruel to you and him. maybe, you two would be happy and together for as long as the world would keep you two in. but now, you donât have him. you have nothing left of him anymore.
but no.
they hadnât fought hard enough.
and it ended up like this.
âluke,â your voice wavers, âplease. donât make me do this.â you almost beg. but not to himâ the gods.
begging the gods to not force you to fight your own best friend.
begging the gods to not force you to get rid of the only person youâve ever loved without a catch.
begging the gods to not force you to kill the only good thing that came out from no victories, sacrifices or wins.
but the gods shudder and turn away from their own childrenâs pleas and cries anyway, like luke would whisper to you after curfew, after you two have snuck to the nearby beach.
and so you had no choice but to fight. you fought like someone who couldn't bear to win.
and it ended quicker than you thought it would. it was, of course, still terrible and tragic. but you didnât have the guts to kill your own best friend.
you hesitated.
you two were on the ground, breathless and panting, gashes weeping from all over your body, screaming out to you, but you ignored it. your weapon was pointed at luke, but you were still hesitant about actually killing him. you couldnât do that to him. he was still the greatest trophy youâve ever won without actually trying to win.
but luke⌠he looked so deranged and unhinged. completely different and changed from the last time you saw him sane. he looked so wild and broken.
"do it. you always win, right?"
your hand shook. gods, it was if he was aching for you to finish him offâ begging for you to do it.
but you couldnât. you wouldnât.
"not this time. maybe not today." you shakily let out, tears blurring your vision before you decided to just let your best friend die out here.
he stared at you, wide-eyed. for the first time, his eyes went soft. his eyes showed light in them for the first time. and then he stumbled out of camp, giving you a melancholy glance before leaving.
and you turned and fled. not daring to look back.
and you wobbled back to your cabin like a baby goat and collapsed to your knees.
everyone said you won that day. but they donât know the full truthâ they will never know and will never know the pain of what you did.
but you knew the truth.
you had lost.
maybe not entirely, but you had loss the most prized possession that you didnât even have to work for. you had lost the only good thing that camp out of camp half blood rather than meaningless winnings.
but yet you waited.
waited for a voice to say, "champ."
it never came.
but you waited anyway.
because some battles donât end with victory.
some just end.
and not all of them are meant to be won. even as a child of nike.
youâre a child of nike. winning is in your blood and so is fighting for it, too. but what happens when you lose sometimes? are you still a child of victory and winning?
6/27 notes ; like or reblog cuz this took me 2 hrs to write and iâm finally proud of my writing for once yey!!
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