#jung hae-in x reader

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟThe End Justifies The Means → Ahn Jun-ho x reader˚₊· ꒰🌀꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Although Jun-ho was in danger of defecting, he couldn't help but visit his lover, whom he was afraid he wouldn't be able to see for a long time.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Ahn Jun-ho x Fem!reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊fluff, angst (?)

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊some blood, mention of death, maybe some bruises from my baby Jun-ho 🥺🤏 (takes place in season 2)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊First chapter of the profile! I was a little insecure about posting because English is not my first language, but with the help of a translator, I hope my writing doesn't get so old-fashioned lol ^°^

I finished watching D✰P a while ago and I couldn't help but fall in love with Jun-ho (although I started watching because of another actor, who plays the 'villain')

I tried to leave the chapter with a more Jun-ho perspective, I hope it turned out well. I hope you like the chapter and don't forget to share and say what you think of the chapter. Stick with the chapter and have a good read! 💙🌊

⊹₊˚ʚ❛Masterlist❜ɞ

IT'S been a few days since Jun-ho deserted the army for a greater cause. From the beginning he was aware of the danger he was putting himself in but his head still throbbed every time he…its first and also fails. It cost him his life. A life that could have been saved if not for his carelessness. He thinks about it every day and once he had a thin thread of hope, hoping that he could at least reveal the truth even if he couldn't bring that life back, he couldn't help but grasp the thin, dangerous thread.

He was tired but he wouldn't confess. In addition to working on a plan to reveal the flash drive's catastrophic contents, he was also exhausted from running away whenever he had any chance of getting hold of it. Jun-ho wasn't stupid, he knew how things work and that's why he was cautious and smart in every detail of what he did so as not to be tracked.

However, more than physically tired, he was emotionally and mentally exhausted. He's been through a lot of hard things since he gave you one last hug keeping his promise that he'd be back soon - which was to be expected as they were both aware that not everything is smooth sailing - but he wasn't expecting such a weight to be placed on his shoulders.

He missed you. Every single day. He thought about calling you all the time but his pride got the better of him, thinking he might sound desperate - or maybe the faint feeling that maybe you cared about him too much to the point of making your heart ache. He cared more about you than himself.

And it was this very thought that made him have a slight hesitation at the thought of visiting you. Jun-ho was aware that you knew everything and that you had certainly received a visit from your superiors only to upset you even more. But he needs to see you, feel you. He needed your hug, your words of comfort, your kiss, your way of being. But at the same time that he looked forward to it, he understood that it was risky. But everything good is worth the risk, isn't it?

You were sitting on your apartment floor staring at - or at least trying to - your laptop screen finishing a college essay. It wasn't really working for you, as everything you did, every key you clicked was a thought going through your mind leading you to think of Jun-ho.

You had received a visit from the superiors of Jun-ho, your boyfriend, just over three days ago. You initially wanted to appear strong, not just in front of men, for herself maybe. You really tried, but you couldn't hold back the tears. What if he got hurt? What if I unintentionally hurt other people? What if I can never see him again? These were some of the thoughts that came to mind.

Jun-ho was more than just a childhood sweetheart, more than your boyfriend, he was your soul mate, the perfect being that was specially predestined for you. You didn't believe much in legends or reincarnation, but you knew they were meant to be connected, perhaps by fate, or the red thread that believed to unite you. He was different, unique, perfect. You couldn't live without him and he was aware of that. So what's the point of him doing this to you?

You felt that if he made a misstep you probably wouldn't see each other any time soon. It's been almost two years apart, imagine years being separated by simple and useless bars? Pieces of metal that could destroy relationships for the simple fact of arresting a person who only wanted to reveal the truth that many so-called "superior" feared.

You didn't know about the pen-drive's contents, in fact, almost nobody did. But, if they're not measuring efforts to take power for themselves, even if it might cost Jun-ho's life, so you knew it wasn't anything too nice or light. Definitely a problem. A problem that Jun-ho-your Jun-ho got into because he couldn't stand still when he saw an injustice.

He's always been like that. From childhood, from when you grew up and your father didn't approve of your relationship with him, but he still didn't give up. Because he was stubborn and kind and above all he had a good heart. You love him for small but significant things like that that shape his personality and character. You've always seen it, since when you were just two little beings running around the neighborhood, at the same time, whenever there was a chance, Jun-ho would protect you, even if it sometimes cost him scolding. Always when they did something stupid, he took over, because he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. Because he always loved you.

Only now the roles were reversed. And this situation wasn't like when you were a kid, it's just riskier. You wanted to protect him from all harm, from all these evil people who only thought about their own noses and reputation. His heart ached whenever he imagined everything he had gone through so far because of people like that, for all the times - even if hesitantly - he called you because he wasn't feeling well with all the pressure and nagging from his seniors.

Your soul felt that he would look for you just like the nights he called you. And you've just been waiting, be it the doorbell sound or even the phone ringing. 

And like a cue to fate, your doorbell rings. A slight fright invades you, but you don't let go, just getting up towards the door. When she opened it, a tall man had his back turned while wearing a navy blue sweatshirt that covered his head with a hood, preventing anyone from seeing him. He looks frantically up and down the building's hallway, as if expecting someone to suddenly grab him.

"May I help you?" He turns when he hears her voice. It was him. Jun-ho, who had been missing for days. He stares at you for a while, until he raises his finger towards his mouth, asking for silence. He deftly pushes you aside, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. You still stare at him in bewilderment. Not just finally seeing him, of course that was part of it, but he was different.

His hair had grown out a little since I last saw him - he'd shaved it off for the army - he was more robust, his arms were strong and steady, his face had some fresh bruises. You put your hands over your mouth in shock. Her eyes water at the sight of him hurt and tired. He holds out his arms, cradling you in a tight hug.

You reciprocate by squeezing him as if you can no longer see him. She didn't want it to be his last hug, so she held him tight. He didn't seem bothered, on the contrary, he deepened the hug, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. You felt your uneven breathing tickle your neck, but it didn't bother you. I knew he needed this. You needed this, you needed him.

He pushed you away when he felt your jacket wet, not out of annoyance but concern. I didn't want to see you cry, you didn't deserve this. None of that. No one really deserved it. He felt in his skin how much the greed of people who identify themselves as superiors just because of a position or a social position, it can harm people who just want to survive in this difficult world where they fight by their own arm, not stepping on other people to ascend.

He gently runs his fingers - now not as soft as before - pass over her soft skin and now wet from the tears that flowed down through the mixture of feelings that squeezed her chest like longing, anxiety, maybe a little fear. "Don't cry, my love…I'm sorry. I didn't want you to go through this." "Where are you Jun-ho? Do you- do you know how worried I was? I was so, so scared that I would never see you again." You didn't want to sound so desperate, but your voice gave it away. Your face that was now covered by your own hands, rested on his firm chest, which just hugged you again while stroking your hair.

"I'm sorry. Really. I…I'm here now, okay?" He kisses her forehead. He missed her smell, her embrace. The way you cried together and for him.

"Oh Jesus! Look at you, oppa!" Now calmer, you caress Jun-ho's face that was stained with blood in some small cuts, in addition to the slight mixture of green, yellow and purple tones that painted almost imperceptibly in the region of his eye. "Who was the idiot that did this to you? Argh! Come here" you take him to the couch in the living room, running to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and coming back as fast as you can. You disinfect your wounds as carefully as you can, as if your skin is incredibly sensitive. He lets out a low chuckle, watching you in his concentration.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" You look scared. He cups the right side of his face with his hand, taking advantage of the closeness to place a tender kiss on her lips. "I think it's cute that you're worried about hurting me even though I'm all torn up like that, that's all." You smile toothlessly upon hearing his statement. It was obvious that the situation was concerning but you could still see how hard he was trying to make you comfortable and calm, even though it was a mess outside.

"You'll be fine, won't you?" Her expression changes as she whispers to him, fear apparent in her voice. "I will. I promise you, I will come back to you safe and sound." The ghost of a smile is exposed on her face. "I don't want to ask what's on that flash drive but I'm sure you're doing it for a good reason. I want you to know that you are strong and that you will get through this. I believe and trust you and I know you will do the right thing with the power you have in your hands. Just don't, please leave me. Do what you have to do but…come back to me. I need you." You intertwine your hand in his. Tears form in Jun-ho's eyes causing his voice to crack a little when speaking.

"Thank you for trusting me. I don't deserve your love. I will never leave you, I love you. It's complicated, I don't want you to get involved. Just wait for me." He gets up towards the door, but stops as soon as he hears her announcement.

"...your boss visited me. He asked me to call if you showed up. What should I do?" He turns. A few seconds pass as he just stares back at you.

"Call him."

"What?"

"You can call. I need to talk to him."

"What if you get caught?"

"I won't, I know what to do." He had a plan, you could feel it. You obey, picking up your cell phone and after dialing the number passing it to him. You didn't know what was coming, and you hated more than anyone else just to watch and not be able to do anything, but everything in your power you would do. By Jun-ho.

꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑ ❛original by:: @hyunjinners ¡ Like×reblog❜ =͟͟͞♡ ‧ ˚ ₊

[angelseraphines]

i swear i’m releasing fanfictions this weekend i have just had to lock in recently 💔💔💔

current order of priority!!! (subject to change)

1. guard!cho sang-woo x player!reader

2. part three of my professor!cho sang-woo x student!reader series

3. money heist korea berlin x reader

4. cho sang-woo x player!reader during the glass bridge game

also thoughts on a college!seong gi-hun x reader fanfiction?? 😇

[phoebecatesl0vr]

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚎: 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗/𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘 𝚡 𝙶𝙽!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵𝚈 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 ♡

♡ 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘. 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 “𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗.” 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝙱𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

♡ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃, 𝙰𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙾𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙿𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖!𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 (𝚒�� 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝), 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“I want you to be honest with me.”

Your gentle voice cuts through the silence in the room.

Your thumb caresses his soft cheek. His usual arrogant, confident demeanor has shrunk down into something somber. Something soft.

His dark eyes meet yours as his breath hitches. If he loves you, he needs to open up to you. And he does.

With a deep exhale through his nose, he begins telling his story.

“I’m from the North. When I was a child, my mother and I tried to escape by swimming across the river. She was killed, and I was thrown into a prison camp. Served 25 years. 25 years of hell that I’ll never get back. We were beaten, starving, and you know I’m sick. No treatment, obviously.”

You gulp. Berlin always, always kept his past hidden from you. You two haven’t been romantically involved for too long, but if you wanted to get serious about this relationship, you had to know his story.

You continue comforting him. Still cupping his face, you study his expression. He’s got a certain sadness in his eyes. You can see right through him. You see a broken, traumatized, vulnerable man.

He continues.

“I was in solitary confinement. I did some…rather violent things….” He trails off.

Deep down, he’s absolutely terrified of your judgement. He’s terrified of losing you, someone who’s brought so much joy and happiness into his life. He can only hide the real him from you for so long.

“There was a riot and a guard was killed. We escaped, and now I’m here. I’ve met some people who I…work with. You could call it a gang.”

Your expression remains soft. You love him so much. Nothing he is saying is changing your mind, but he thinks the exact opposite.

“Crime is all I know now. You wanted to know so badly, so what do ya think? Do ya still love me now, or what?” His eyes find the floor. You have never, ever seen him like this. The boisterous, theatrical Berlin you initially met is just a broken man.

The smallest, slightest smile tugs at your lips. “Of course I still love you. Nothing will never change that, Jung-Ho.” You gently reassure him.

He nuzzles his face into your touch. The faintest smile graces his lips. You read his energy. He feels safe with you. You are his security.

You lean in, your face inches away from his. Your lips are about a centimeter away from his. “You’re stuck with me Jung-Ho…” You gently graze your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, moving his mouth perfectly in sync with yours.

The kiss is soft, tender and passionate. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you as if you’d be gone the second he let go.

“I know the way I am. I just want you to love me.” His words break you. You can’t even imagine what he had to endure, and yet, knowing the way he acts and behaves all adds up now.

“Wanna see how much I love you?” You whisper against his lips. He nods, and before you know it you’ve scooted yourself onto his lap, on his office chair.

Your tongue is deep in his mouth. Heavy breathing and panting fill the room. His hands grab your ass harshly, possessively. He looks up at you with glassy eyes. He almost looks drunk off of you.

“Mmmm sweetheart, you drive me fucking crazy, y’know that?” He purrs.

His lips burn kisses into the soft skin of your throat. You close your eyes and a moan escapes yours lips.

His hands find their way under your shirt. His fingertips are cold, causing your to shiver at the sensation. His bulge presses into your core and the pressure alone causes you gasp and crave more.

“Need you so fuckin’ bad, little love. Fuuuuck—“ he groans as your fingers tug at his hair.

“You think you can handle it, Jung-Ho?” You ask as you grind down on his bulge.

He smiles at you devilishly. “You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to sweetheart. Come on, fuck me.”

You didn’t need to hear that twice. You practically rip his vest off and his button down shirt, revealing his perfectly tanned body underneath. Your hands explore every inch of his skin. You feel possessive, too. You’re both that territorial over each other.

You tug his pants down, followed by his boxers, freeing his dick. You drop to your knees and instantly take him in your mouth. He watches you intensely. His eyes are not leaving you as you sink your mouth down on his length.

He throws his head back and moans at the first contact of your warm mouth on his sensitive tip. His face scrunches up in pleasure. You take him as far down as you can until you feel yourself gag. You press on, though. You want to give Berlin everything you can.

He begins to thrust slightly, fucking your mouth gently. His hands are locked tightly in your hair. “Nggghh…don’t move, sweetheart. Just let me use you for a sec, okay?” You moan around his cock to show your obedience. The vibration causes him to shiver.

You gag obscenely as his whole entire cock is inside your mouth, prodding the back of your throat and cutting off all of your air intake. He holds you down all the way, his hands are so strong you can’t even move your head even if you tried. You look up. His chest heaves with a laugh as the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Ohhh you’re so fucking cute with my dick in your throat, baby.”

Hot wet tears stream down your face as he roughly pulls his dick out of your mouth. You whimper at the newfound soreness.

“Get on top of me again and fuck me like you love me.” He commands.

You climb on top of him and sink yourself down on his dick slowly. You feel yourself being stretched and you hesitate, afraid of the pain.

“Come on, my angel. I thought you loved me? Sit on it. Come on.” He coaxes you. Even though he’s technically “On the bottom” he’s still calling the shots.

You sink yourself further onto his hard cock, wincing at the full feeling inside of yourself.

“My sweet sweet angel baby. Oh so, so good. Fuck, ride it.” He groans.

You begin to slowly bounce on it, trying so hard to adjust to his huge length inside you. You are absolutely stuffed full of him. Slowly, the pain turns into pleasure as your walls accommodate him.

He slaps your ass sharply as you ride him. Your own moans and groans fill the room as he hits your sweet spot. His large hands guide your waist up and down. He’s basically fucking you like a fleshlight.

“Lean back a little.” He demands, and you do. With one arm wrapped around you so you don’t fall, he presses his other hand down on your abdomen.

“Feel that?” He smirks.

The pressure increases and you feel your orgasm crashing through your body.

You shudder and dig your nails into his shoulders, red pricks of blood dotting his tan complexion.

He comes undone too, moaning your name over and over and over again as he rides out his orgasm.

He spills inside of you. His seed overflows and drips everywhere, but neither of you care at all. You’re both wrapped up in the moment so intensely. Your eyes locked on each others. Your lips meeting once more in a hungry kiss.

You’re both panting, sweaty messes. Feeling satisfied and exhausted, you slink off of him. As you’re putting your clothes back on, Berlin reaches his hand out to you.

You grab it and hold it, feeling the rough callouses on your soft palm.

“So you still wanna be with me?” He asks you, seeking reassurance.

“Of course I do, Jung-Ho.” You smile, lean down, and kiss his lips once more.

You don’t even know what you’re in for just yet, but Berlin is yours, and that’s all that matters.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

AHHHH MY FIRST BERLIN FIC POSTED TO TUMBLR IM FREAKING OUT. I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVED IT OMG. I TRIED I REALLY DID BUT IM STILL TRYING TO GET A FEEL FOR HIS CHARACTER. GONNA START WORKING ON DEM REQUESTS AGAIN!!! This one was just kinda self indulgent hehehehe. Have a great day everyone!!! Love, G!!! 🤍

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yxluana , @swtt4hk , @massivecheesecakesmuttss , @miss-conjayniality , @ladiesman21777 , @dilfismz , @vkeyy , @kudiikis , @daeholuvs , @insidekatmind , @sealcowboy , @torasgfreal , @melfresita-ruri , @ellfucksup , @hrh007, @m4nbl00d ,

[insidekatmind]

Tension~Berlin(Song Jung-ho)

Wearning: slight smut, age-gap

You are in a cramped room in the South Korean National Mint. The air is charged with electricity, the chaos outside echoes in the corridors, but inside there is a heavy, almost oppressive silence. The bare white walls surround you, as you, with your heart pounding in your chest, get ready.

You are wearing a short skirt that barely touches your thighs, black ankle boots that stand out against provocative stockings, and a tight shirt that accentuates every curve of your body. The thin fabric stretches across your chest as you bend down to pick up the folded red tracksuit on the metal table in front of you. Your movements are quick but precise, every gesture charged with tension and urgency.

Just as you grab the zipper of the tracksuit to start putting it on, the door suddenly swings open. A shiver runs down your spine and you look up abruptly. Berlin is there, leaning against the doorframe with his usual inscrutable expression painted on his face. His eyes scan you, a mix of malice and calculation, while a slight smile curves his lips.

“You always have to keep everyone waiting, huh?” he says in a low, velvety voice.

Your breathing stops for a moment, then you start moving again, trying to hide your confusion. “I was just getting the suit,” you reply, trying to keep your tone indifferent, even though the tension is palpable between you.

Berlin approaches with slow, almost studied steps. You smell his scent, the warmth of his presence invading the narrow space of the room. He watches you as you slip an arm into the sleeve of the suit, but he doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

Then, with a tone that is deliberately light but that betrays an undercurrent of absolute control, he adds: “You should hurry, they’re waiting outside. But I guess you already know how to raise the tension.”

The look he gives you is a challenge. You know you shouldn’t get involved, but the intensity with which he stares at you makes it hard to ignore. The game between the two of you began long before this robbery. And now, in this closed room, with danger looming outside, it seems even more dangerous.

You sigh and sit down on the desk. "Always a nuisance?" you tease him.

Berlin lets out a low laugh at your impertinence. He steps closer, his eyes darkened by something you can't quite place. His gaze wanders over your body, lingering on the hint of curves that shows through of your mini skirt.

"Careful, princess," he warns, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know better than to provoke me, especially in this risky situation."

He stops right in front of you. His closeness makes your heart beat a little faster, a strange heat flooding your stomach.

Berlin caresses your thigh. "And thanks to this skirt of yours and your fabulous body the police were distracted" says Berlin praising you.

The touch of Berlin's hand on your thigh makes you shiver involuntarily as he looks at you appreciatively, admiring your body. A flash of something almost possessive dances in his eyes, but it fades quickly into a sly smile.

“You have a certain effect on people,” he murmurs, his touch becoming slightly warmer as he speaks, “even on the police officers outside. They were definitely distracted. And it was much easier to pull off the robbery.”

His fingers continue to tease the bare skin above your stockings, sending a wave of excitement through you.

"Distracted, huh?" you reply between clenched teeth. The feeling of his touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine, but you're hesitant to give in so easily. You try to mask your reaction, feigning nonchalance, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Berlin chuckles softly and leans closer, his breath tickling your ear. His hand moves up, his fingers exploring the curve of your hip.

"Oh, very much so," be confirms, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "Especially one in particular."You struggle to maintain your composure as Berlin's fingers continue to explore your body. Your mind is racing, the thrill of the heist blending with the excitement of his proximity. But you refuse to let him gain too much control over you. You place a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"And let me guess," you say, trying to ignore the heat that's building inside you, "you're the one who noticed."

Berlin smiles, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. His touch is slow and possessive as he moves his hand up your side, his fingers leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

"Of course," he replies, his voice low and sensual. "I notice everything, remember? Especially when something... interests me."

His hand reaches your chin and he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are intense, filled with desire and something else, something darker.You hold his gaze, your own defiance barely masking the way his touch ignites your body. The air in the room thickens, the tension between you growing more palpable with each passing moment.

"Is that so?" you retort, your voice wavering slightly. "And what exactly interests you about me, Berlin?"

His fingers move from your chin to your neck, lightly tracing your pulse point. The subtle shiver that runs through you doesn't escape his notice.

Berlin lowers his head, coming closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from your skin. His breath is hot against your ear as he speaks.

"Oh, princess, I think you know exactly what attracts me about you," he whispers, his fingers lingering under your chin, holding your gaze prisoner. "Your... flexibility, your courage, your stubbornness... and your body."

His eyes run down your curves, shamelessly assessing, appreciating every inch.

A small gasp escapes your lips as Berlin's words send a shiver through your body. His blatant appraisal should frustrate you, but instead, it adds fuel to the fire that's growing inside you. You can't deny the effect he has on you, but you also know that getting involved with him would be dangerous.

"Is there anything else you appreciate, besides the obvious?" you ask, your voice betraying your growing arousal.

Berlin moves closer, his body touching yours, the heat from his skin radiating through the thin fabric separating you.He grins at your question, his hand slipping under the hem of your t-shirt, his fingers exploring the warm skin of your waist. "Oh, princess, you'd be surprised at what I appreciate," he muses, his touch leaving a trail of fire everywhere it goes. "The way you carry yourself with such confidence, the way your eyes sparkle when you're challenged... and the way you're not afraid to defy me."

His hand moves up, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, causing your breath to hitch.

You struggle to keep your breathing steady, your mind warring with your body's response. Berlin's touch is both electric and reassuring, leaving you wanting more even as you try to resist.

"Is that what you like?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly. "That I defy you?"

Berlin's hand pauses, his fingers splaying possessively on your ribcage. He moves even closer, his lips grazing your neck.

"Of course. It's so much more fun to break someone who dares to stand up to me," he murmurs, his words sending shivers down your spine.

You can't help but shiver as Berlin's lips move slowly to your earlobe, his teeth lightly nipping your sensitive flesh. His other hand cups your hip, pulling you closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours. The combination of his touch and his words is heady, leaving you both excited and wary.

"And what if I don't break so easily?" you challenge, your voice low and defiant.

Berlin lets out a soft, wicked laugh, the sound reverberating through your body. His lips move to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He bites gently at the base of your throat, causing you to gasp involuntarily.

"Oh, princess, nobody is unbreakable," he breathes, his lips moving back up, capturing your earlobe again. "And you, more than others, respond so beautifully to pain and pleasure."

Your eyes flutter closed as Berlin continues his sensual assault on your senses. His words pierce through your defenses, stirring something deep within you. The heat between you is undeniable, but you're determined not to give in, not to let him get the upper hand.

"Is that a challenge?" you manage to ask, your voice slightly hoarse.

Berlin moves his head back, his gaze locking with yours. His hand, still on your hip, tightens its grip, anchoring you closer.

"Perhaps," he replies, a smirk playing on his lips. "A challenge to see how long you can hold out under my ministrations."

He leans in again, his lips now on your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin. The combination of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, leaving you breathless.You struggle to keep control, your body responding to his touch despite your best efforts. Each kiss, each bite, each caress is like a puzzle piece, slowly dismantling your defenses. You can feel your resolve waning, but you hold on to the last shreds of resistance.

"You're delusional if you think you can break me," you say, your words a little breathless.

Berlin chuckles again, the sound sending a new wave of heat through you. He lifts his head again, his gaze fixed on your face, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, causing it to tremble slightly.

"You underestimate me, princess," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I've broken many before you, and I'll break you as well."

He leans in, capturing your lip between his teeth, biting down gently before capturing your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.

You wrap your legs around his hips, holding onto him as you kiss him back. Berlin grins against your mouth, his hands moving to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. The sudden movement causes a jolt of excitement to shoot through you, and you cling tighter to him.

His lips trail from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. His breath is hot against your skin, and you feel the hunger in his touch, the possessive way his fingers dig into your thighs.

Berlin pushes the skirt above, his hands roaming your legs, exploring every inch of your skin. The heat between you is intense, the air around you charged with desire. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him, craving more of his touch.

His lips find your ear, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "You're not resisting much, princess," he murmurs, moving his hips in a slow circle, creating a delicious friction.

Berlin's words send a shiver through you, the combination of his touch and his voice making you lose yourself in the moment. You can feel him, hard and ready, against you, and it takes all your willpower not to give in completely.

"You're... enjoying this, aren't you?" you manage to say, your words coming out in a gasp as his hands move higher, leaving a trail of fire on your thighs.Berlin chuckles softly, his mouth now on your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. "Of course I am, princess," he replies, his voice rough with desire. "I love seeing you lose control, I love the way you respond to my touch."

His hands move to your hips, gripping you tightly, pulling you closer to him. The friction between you becomes more urgent, more intense, and you can't help but whimper softly.Berlin's lips return to your mouth, his kiss hungrier now, his tongue sliding between your lips. His hands move back to your thighs, roaming higher, inching closer to the edge of your underwear. You're panting lightly, your mind a whirlwind of sensations, and your body trembling under his touch.

At that moment the door opens and Tokyo comes in. "Berlin we are read-oh, sorry" says Tokyo.

Berlin pauses, his lips still on your skin, his hands remaining on your thighs. He lets out a low curse under his breath before turning his head, his gaze fixed on Tokyo.

"What do you want?" he asks, his voice sharp, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

Tokyo looks between you, clearly surprised by the scene she walked into. There's a knowing smirk on her face, and you can feel your cheeks flush. You try to disentangle yourself from Berlin, but his grip on you is unyielding.

"Sorry to barge in," Tokyo says, her tone dripping with mock innocence. "But Oslo said we're ready to move. We are waiting for your command."

Berlin lets out a huff of frustration, his eyes still locked on you. He seems conflicted between his current desires and his responsibilities.

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment," he replies, his tone gruff. He turns his attention back to you, his gaze dark and possessive.He captures your chin, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense, burning with a mixture of desire and annoyance. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, his touch surprisingly tender despite his irritation.

"This isn't over, princess," he whispers, his words a promise. "I'll finish what I started later."

He lets go of you, stepping back and taking a deep breath. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself, before giving you one last look.

"Put on your tracksuit, they need us " he orders, his voice rough. Without waiting for a response, he strides toward the door, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts and the lingering sensations of his touch.

[gnohomotho]

Run, If You Want to be Caught 「Pt. 2」♡☣♡

Pairing: Berlin x fem!reader Summary: The plan was supposed to be simple. You, the bait. Infiltrate the volatile group. Make it believable. But then there's the suave loose cannon who came up with the plan...who seems to be losing his mind just a tad - over you. And when you turn from his prey to someone else's, after his own mistake, there is hell to pay. And you? You're not going to go down without a fight. But there's one more variable threatening your entire equation, and it's not the young man Berlin is increasingly jealous of - you're opening your heart to him just as he opened your jumpsuit...and now you have to bear the consequences. Warnings: Death, gore, bondage, gagging, holding, touching, descriptions of physical intimacy, undressing, angst, fluff, who-did-this-to-you dynamics, language taking apt advantage of their power dynamics and (extremely ethical, legal, teleologically moral) age-gap; 18+ MDNI. Pretty sure this man doesn't have kinks, he is kinks. Word count: 5.4k A/N: This is more of an interlude between acts because this is all basically a gigantic Rorschach test and tender loving care after incredibly harsh mind-fucking and violence is something that surely needed to be written. ❤️‍🩹 For all my romantic, gentle, quiet girlies not to be fucked with but still looked after - I hope you feel hugged. ❀࿐ Lovely dividers by: @cafekitsune If you like my writing, requests, or just want to keep the blog afloat - I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // question // message! ♥ Link to previous Link to next Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ ♡ Requests are OPEN ♡

"Please let go of my wrist."

"Say 'please' again, Jackdaw. It sounds pretty off your lips."

"Let go of my wrist, Berlin."

The grip tightens.

His smile widens.

"You really like pushing my strings to their breaking point, don't you, little one. Let's try this one...last...time..."

Berlin pushes his forehead into yours, lulling with you. You notice his eyes close for a moment, as if truly lost in those few seconds. The fabric of his jumpsuit rustles against yours. His waist touches you and pushes your body into the table, you feel the heat of his words on your neck, so close he could be kissing them into your throat:

"Please...pretty please...let go of my wrist, Berlin, sir...now. Try it. Don't be shy."

His eyes flicked open, wide, beckoning, sharp. Feigned patience playing in them, like he was playing up the role of a particularly exasperated professor. But so intrigued he can't help himself.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your breath both fast and low, trying to keep calm, knowing he's well aware of the cameras. But dear god, you don't know if you're quivering for him to follow through on his worst promises or for the need to push him into the opposing wall.

You breathe in, little hops in your throat almost touching his lips the way he's leaning into you.

"Just tie me up and get it over with. Berlin."

Your words try to sound sharp and yet they're anything but - tumbling out of your throat in half breathed whispers, sounding both terrified and utterly overwhelmed with things he'd be delighted to explore.

And he wastes no time.

"Wrong answer."

Berlin grabs your collar he'd been so careful to adjust just moments ago and drags you under the table before you can even gasp.

❥❥❥

A hand is firmly clasped over your mouth.

"Shhh. Hush. Look at me."

You don't.

"Look at me, Manhattan."

The order was clear.

You carefully look up, anger building in your eyes and his fingers placed across your lips, palm over your cheeks, aren't helping. He nods slowly.

"Good girl. Now, give me your hands."

You lift your wrists up halfway, shaking now. Not because of him, but because of how fast he seemingly lost interest and went right back to using you as bait.

Sweet words with no depth. Music on plywood.

He turns to rustle through his pockets, and when he turns back, those small motions and head lulls stop mid-movement. Berlin's eyes sink into yours, studying, then...

He stops again.

Only one finger across your mouth taps into you, as if moving to an invisible tune.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap.

But he's gazing into your eyes, transfixed. Lips just the slightest bit open, as if to speak, but he remains silent. You watch the smooth lines in his face, studying it carefully for the first time.

So much pressure, so much control embedded in the seemingly calm and level surface. His hair is slightly dishevelled, his collar uneven, his neck...strained. His pulse is almost visible. Your eyes jitter to his hand, his fistful of zip ties, and it must have sparked a reaction in you, because his own gaze softens for just a second before growing cold and faintly entertained.

His dark brows lift as if to taunt you further, dare you to disobey, to talk back, to disagree.

And you say nothing, fear gripping your heart. It dawns on you - he's a stranger. A dangerous, volatile stranger, you're alone with him, no cameras can see you right now, and he doesn't care. You're being watched like a worm on a hook, entertaining in its wriggling, nothing more. Fate sealed.

Your eyes lower, lips quivering under the force of the man's palm, just the slightest bit. In any other scenario it would resemble a kiss, but that only plays into your sense of wrong.

Berlin suddenly begins a slow movement and strokes your cheek with the thumb of his hand, each trail slower than the last. Looking at you. The more he looks, the slower the movement, until he shifts from your mouth to the side of your face.

The hand lets your face rest into it, enjoying the caress and ceasing the gagging placement entirely. He simply...remains that way. Watching you. Letting you feed on the comfort of his touch. Your head inadvertently lets him, and he smiles everso slightly to himself.

His voice comes quiet, but not soft.

"Excuse me, Manhattan...I got carried away."

As if trying to lower the matter-of-factness that sincerely hurt your feelings, the man leans closer with a hint of genuine emotion.

"You have no idea how much your eyes can yell in frequencies that get right under my skin."

He chuckles to himself and lightly smacks your cheek, to underline the joviality of the words.

He's bluffing.

You don't say a word as you realise, he's nervous.

And if he's nervous already, you're fucked.

❥❥❥

"Give me your hands, little one."

You should have smacked him when he said that.

Because he leaned to you, and used his legs to rest against yours, so that you couldn't move without his exact permission. The small space felt suffocating and there was no way to not be in contact with him. His legs circled yours, even if you huddled to yourself. His arms rested against your body, large palms always just a flicker of movement away.

When you didn't directly obey, he only smiled that little corner smile and grabbed your wrists, not with force, but with thoughts circling a far darker cliff.

Berlin twisted the ties around meticulously, leaving them undone. All the way up your arms, all the way up to your elbow. When he was satisfied, he pulled you closer by the collar, and you gasped - but he already touched your wrist with his finger and circled the tender spot beating for dear life with his hand.

He looks at you, reading you like a book. The pressure circling you everso slightly. Up down. Up down. Just the way he trails his finger. Electricity running all the way up your arms and down to your chest, lingering in your heart.

"Calm down, little Jackdaw. There's no other place to hide than here."

And he chuckles. He chuckles and you know. You know he's playing into the scene of your first meeting. And he's delighted in how the puzzle pieces slip into their perfect places without effort, without hinder.

Berlin begins to ruffle through his pocket as he lets your hand go for just a while, and you fully expect him to take out his cigarettes. Just to drive the point home, you feel the beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

But no.

He takes out a shiny thing.

Duct tape?

"Are you serious right now?" Your voice is finally level, finally found, riding on a wave if disbelief and embarrassment. You kick yourself away and shuffle backwards, hitting your back on the table leg.

"How sick are you?! This wasn't the deal, this wasn't the damn deal, Berlin---"

And he, in quiet exasperation, grabs the back of your head and a fistful of hair, forcing you to bend closer to him. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but commanding.

"I make the rules, Manhattan. You obey. Now..." he undoes a sliver and bites it off, you wince at the sound, "hold still."

Before he lays the sticky surface across your mouth, he pats your cheek again, gentler this time, but remains in place as he hovers too close.

"Stay still or this is going to hurt even more than I intend it to."

"Oh fuck you Berl--"

He lays it against your mouth and pushes it down with a firm hand, trailing fingers on each side of your mouth and finally gazing at his creation with too much satisfaction. You barely realise what's happened and how helpless you are as the realisation sinks in and you shudder, desperate to be further away. Too close, to close, too...Berlin holds both sides of your head, and he seems to have stopped his errant movements. Fully focused on you. Just looking. Each of his thumbs push down the corners of our mouth as if adjusting the tape, but they linger too long.

You close your eyes, hoping to calm the maelstrom in your head, and feel Berlin's fingers trail down. They grab your jaw, turning your head in his hand, inspecting you. You open your eyes to see his lips open up too, as if mouthing to himself, studying, watchful - and his gaze darts from your gagged mouth to your angry eyes.

"That fire, Manhattan."

His face is like a mask, but his eyes threaten to swallow you whole.

"That fire makes me want to burn this place to the ground just to see you react."

You don't pull away. But you do complain.

"Mhhmph!"

He laughs to himself, bringing your head closer to his. You can feel his breath on your skin and see your hair trickling down upon his free hand that is simply resting against your leg.

He fingers the strands softly, like a cat playing with string.

"Sorry, little one, I didn't quite get that. Would you come closer to Mister Berlin and articulate a little better? I'm sure you can manage. Such a clever little girl you are, no?"

His lips end on a patronising 'o' shape and his eyes remain half closed, very satisfied, too gratified.

You only breathe out angrily through your nose and roll your eyes to the side, pushing yourself away again.

Well, this was even worse than you thought.

❥❥❥

You feel his eyes positively skewer you, knowing his brain is likely working overtime. You try to shift but find it almost impossible in such a small space with his legs in the way and you - almost unable to move.

Have it your way, his demeanour seems to say, and he wordlessly pulls your arms far too roughly to himself. Berlin pauses, as if to let the gesture sink in, and slowly, one by one...

Tightens.

Each.

Zip-tie.

Up.

To your.

Elbow.

And you wince at the last one, so close to your chest, forcing you to hold your arms close and squish yourself to remain halfway upright.

If you felt exposed before, now even the jumpsuit can't hide how naked you feel before him.

As you look up, trying not to let the situation get to you even more, even focusing your thoughts on how this will help the others - you really try to keep it together - looking up, you don't have to be half as knowledgeable on the human condition to know you're not the only with problems here.

Berlin? He can't help himself. He shifts.

Shifts again.

Bends then straightens his knee still harsh against your leg and hip.

Then his hand moves.

Then his arm.

Not just a fidget.

It has reason.

His arm stops and then continues, almost a jitter of a movement - then strain. Closer. Ever closer to you. Steady, but harbouring too much effort to remain so.

First, he only hovers. Hovers above the highest zip-tie. Eyes back at you, checking.

You wince as he connects his touch with your jumpsuit and pushes in to feel your skin.

You follow Berlin as he trails a finger from the very top of your forearm to your wrist, remaining on your pulse. Even climbing just under the cuff to connect skin to skin.

And he...smiles to himself. Not an evil or cheeky smile. It seems...true. He's smiling like he found something he'd lost a long time ago, glistening in the mud, touching it to make sure it's real.

Your pulse quickens, and he smiles further until his expression resembles someone knowing and calm.

Just as you'd expect him to switch, to hurt you, to lay his cards on the table with a winning hand, you silently brace for the pain and give him no satisfaction in your eyes. But Berlin wraps his hand around your bound wrists, seeing the contrast of his large palm easily fitting right over them.

Shielding. Caring. Gathering warmth and giving it to you.

Or is he playing with you still?

He seems entranced. You didn't have to study body language to notice his stiff legs relaxing on command, or the way he's shielding you from the door even as he's playing up the scene.

Every movement he made seemingly in tease let him end up in such a position that should anyone come in, gun or knife, they'd have to go through him thrice before they got to you. And your own eyes soften at the realisation.

His murmur is soft, almost unnoticeable against the tender hum of machinery above you.

"Such a gentle little thing you are, Manhattan."

He pats your wrist, as if to play down the gesture. Play down the entire evening.

"Out of place. Out of time. Tell you what."

He straightens as much as the desk will let him and clears his throat, momentarily avoiding your eyes.

"Knock once for 'yes', twice for 'no', three times for 'help'...and..."

His voice goes low, so low you have to lean down to hear him. Berlin's eyes form those cheeky coinslots you've learnt to avoid, eyebrows lowering with his words...

"Four times for 'I love you, Berlin.'"

This time you actually try to smack that unapologetic grin off his face, and he catches your bound hands into his again.

So you merely use your fingers and what you still remembered from sign language to spell out the letters 'F', 'U', and you don't get any further before he sincerely throws his head back and laughs.

Truly laughs.

Tension seems to have averted him, and as he leans his head back to you, face thoroughly entertained, he grabs your cheek in a little patronising gesture - but the thought behind it seems true, as does his inability to not touch you or your skin for more than a few seconds while hiding behind control or dominance.

"Rest, little Jackdaw. We have a long night ahead."

And he lets go, shifting, slowly sliding out from under the desk and leaving you alone with the soft hum of an electrical current in your ears.

❥❥❥

The shadows grew longer.

The transmitter remained silent.

Berlin hadn't come back yet.

You didn't realise how cold you were until his legs weren't at each side of you, and the tension keeping you in a state of overdrive was replaced by faint worry and numbness.

Is he alright?

Why do I care?!

He looked so...wondrous when he laughed.

In another life, it would be...lovely to see him laugh like that.

Shush.

You close your eyes and lean your entire body down into a foetal position, hands to your chin, bound arms able to rest a little. The plan seemed good on paper, but in the flesh? Not so much.

The waiting is always the worst.

You almost drift off, visions of birds free to roam and fly on your mind. The spot on your wrist pulsating with touch no longer there.

You'd kill to be...

Noises.

Your eyes flick open.

It's dark, almost too dark to see. Your eyes adjust. You see familiar shapes and try to move, but hear voices. Hushed voices. Too many voices.

Your heart starts beating.

No, this is too soon, where's Berlin? He wouldn't leave you here, not like this, not like...

The door clicks open and you jump. You try to adjust your breathing before you suffocate and try to breathe as soundlessly as possible. But the door closes again, and you hear steps walking away.

What the hell is going on?!

Your intercom buzzes close to your ear where you left it before this ordeal.

"Manhattan?" The distorted voice hurriedly articulates. You begin to speak before you realise you can't. So you softly knock once, disturbing the quiet atmosphere just a little.

"Oh for..." the voice trails into the background as if the person lowered the transmitter away from their mouth. You only hear echoes.

"You cannot be serious!...He left her there like that? None of this was the plan, none of it, this is just fucked up and stupid! I'm not gonna let that piece of shit treat her like that, for nothing, for no..."

Stronger now, as if the receiver was back at the mouth of the speaker:

"Manhattan, stay put, don't worry, we can solve this a different way, I'm gonna…figure it out..."

You knock twice.

It's too late.

He'll get hurt again.

And your eyes close in frustration and sadness - the inability to articulate now dragging your mind through the trenches - and knock twice again.

No.

Don't.

Too late.

And God knows if something happens, you're not going down without a fight. If only to finally deliver that slap that is owed.

The static crackles again.

"Are you alone, Manhattan? We can see the group dispersed and there are too many people. The darkness isn't helping."

You hesitate, then knock twice.

The receiver catches a breath followed by a short sigh. You're probably projecting worry into it to feel better about yourself, you wonder.

"Two people about 30 metres away, the rest of the group circling the stairs and coming that way. It seems like a combined group. Stay put. I'll…intervene in case he inevitably goes haywire again. You're gonna be OK, alright, Manhattan? OK?"

You knock once and huddle down again, tears falling down now. It was almost better when you felt no damns were given about you.

The receiver doesn't click off immediately. You hear arguing, you can make out hits and heavy steps, and things being tossed about.

"I said he'd sink this entire thing, I said so. Hole in the hull, that's what he is, I said it..."

And it clicks off.

You shuffle and feel a fire rising in your chest. This is unfair. This is wrong. He abandoned you. You're going to get hurt. And now Denver will too. And all of this for no other reason than a power trip?

No.

No.

You silently lift your body, shifting through the gap and poke your head up. Your tied hands ruffle through the table surface and finally land on the object you knew was there.

A lighter.

You found it a few days ago when looking through drawers. You bring it to yourself and hide it with you. Next, a pen. You knock down the sharpest pen from your notes and gather it in your hands.

You think of trying to find some pure alcohol just to make sure you’d have a fire to stand on…

But the door opens. And your heart stops.

You close your eyes.

Steady your breath, but it comes out hurried.

Voices.

Steps.

Shuffles.

Ruffles.

❥❥❥

It happened fast.

Pulled out from under the table, kicking back, first a pocketknife at your throat, then realisation.

A man argued.

The other man opposed.

Neither took off the tape nor cut the restraints.

Your vision blurred. You tried to look to the one who seemed kind.

He avoided your eyes.

"One for one," the other man said.

"How can we be sure she's with them?"

"The director said so. She fits the description. Maybe they went crazy on her too, doesn't mean we can trust her. We could send a message. Leave it loud and clear."

You didn't even shake your head.

Tired. So tired.

Tired of hoping people weren't like this.

Tired of realising the people who were supposedly the bad ones treated you kindly, while the normal ones were speaking of how best to ruin you and desecrate what's left.

Like scrawling a crude letter.

Is anything as cruel as a normal person, you wonder.

"I don't want to watch," the younger man says.

"Then go stand guard outside the door."

Footsteps away.

You blink the tears away.

It's...so...easy, you think as your fists tighten.

It's so easy to be kind.

It's so pathetic to be like you. Weak. Exhausting. Pathetic.

You straighten your back against the table and breathe in shakily. The man grabs at your throat.

So easy, you think as you leap and try to straddle his legs with yours, squeezing for dear life, trying to gain the upper ground and lock him in with limbs you still have. But the desk isn't that tall, the space that wide, and you fall backwards as his hand connects with your face and scratches down. Then pushes it back leaving it pulsating and you stunned.

But your legs don't let go.

Your legs don't let go.

And you shuffle in terribly clumsy movements with purpose, with purpose, until your fingers touch and gather the small object into your palms.

And you grip it in both bound hands together and put all the force in a single straight movement.

So easy, you try to aim for an eye but plunge the pen into a neck halfway.

Stillness.

Thrashing but stillness.

Then the blood slowly circles the round shape and bubbles up, sliding down the smooth blue surface, even in the dark.

So easy, you try to think, as you pull it out in one sharp movement and the geyser of dark copper splashes at your face, your jumpsuit, your bound hands. Which you push down against the man's mouth so that no noise, gurgles nor cries, comes out.

He's a dark blur against the ground; your tears fall and mix with the sickening stench of iron and cut off breaths. Your heartbeat pulsates through your ears and threatens to take the rest of your consciousness, but it all feels like a blur. So cold. Frost on your back. Heat in your cheeks. Sickness numbed down in your chest.

So easy to be kind.

You collapse on top of the slowly writhing body, which has begun to space out each twitch just a little longer now.

You listen to a heart beating slower and slower.

You force your arms to slide their hands away, hands like those of a stranger. Barely connected. Cold. Bloody. Foreign.

The sound of footsteps following an open door forces you out of the numbness into pushing the body away and bracing against the heavy flat surface with your back - but you're tired.

So very tired.

Shocked.

Desperate.

Numb.

Covered in blood that didn't have to be spilled.

What have you done?

Aren't you the worst of all now?

Wasn't it so easy to be kind?

You try to find the pen again, but the thought makes you sick. The adrenalin is depleting itself. You can't bear to touch the object again. And what use would it be? This was luck.

Nothing but luck.

So you close your eyes. Wet cheeks growing cold. Cold stinging the wounds you don't believe you have.

You wonder if the birds are still asleep or waking up.

A shaky breath in.

A suffocating breath out.

Body stiffening, you try to at least be at peace with whatever happens next.

Until a voice, quiet and level, simply echoes through the room:

"Manhattan, knock for me."

And there was a world of placid acceptance shielding a corpse of things left unsaid hiding behind each syllable.

❥❥❥

"Manhattan, knock for me, or I'll burn this place to the ground and skin whoever is left alive."

The voice trailed off, the harsher the promise, the more forceful its steadiness. You must have imagined the rage drawing a quiver out of it towards the end, but the next sentence, still in place, solidified it.

"Please knock for me, Manhattan."

The voice turned into a whisper on your name.

He wasn't asking you anymore. He was asking the darkness to tell him he's mistaken.

Begging the silence to assure him he's wrong.

And you spoke with it.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The change of air was immediate - loud steps, flurry of the jumpsuit's fabric, the sound of pulling and laboured breaths hidden under a cracking demeanour of calm. You felt the weight leave from under your body, at least the physical one. Your legs cramped around nothing, and you leaned back, huddling your legs that would listen, feeling sick, numb, and...betrayed.

Silly, silly Jackdaw. He told you all along.

Dirty, not with the dirt.

Desecrated, not by the blood.

Pitiful, not with the state of you.

And you knock again, three times. Almost unnoticeably. For yourself. Hands huddled to your chest, the joint touching the wood behind your shoulder.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Like the echo of a tolling bell.

You do it again, slower this time, suffocating the last knock into nothing.

Just to remind yourself how fruitless a little “help” could be in a place like this.

You don't even see his face, just the redness of his shape. It all blurs with the darkness, then sudden contrast. He pulls you out by the legs in a smooth albeit forceful movement and tries not to touch you - as if you were delicate and an object barely holding on to be kept together all at once.

You hear him asking if you're hurt, you feel harsh hands all across your jumpsuit, checking the zip, checking for tears, checking for exposed skin. You feel a palm ghost your neck and touch your skin.

It lays on your neck and listens to your artery.

It warms the place that you tore from the other man.

His hand relaxes there. As if the sound of your pulse was a gentle symphony to the man leaning above you.

Softly, so softly until the fingers curl into subdued rage does he brush your cheek, and you see only darkness and feel force - arms on your back and your face in fabric, you realise you're being held and the harsh push on your head is a chin rocking with you so as not to hurt where your face stings and pulsates.

"I'm here. Little Jackdaw. I'm here."

You remain in that embrace, unmoving. Feeling nothing.

You weren't, you wish you could even think to say, you weren't.

Berlin's throat rumbles against you, though the words seem more strangled than his usual self.

"Let me get this off you. One, two, three, alright, little one?”

You hardly recognize this tone, this intonation. Who is he reassuring, you wonder.

“…Arms. Mouth. Suit."

You register yourself nodding, more tears falling. Your hands began to shake as if on command at hearing they're about to be touched.

Your arms followed.

Each zip tie was cut, but your hands didn't change position nor rest.

The tape came off, but you didn't feel any motion to speak.

Only when Berlin laid his hand on your cheek, the one not in pain, and looked you directly in both eyes...only then did your face turn to a grimace of pain and realisation. Tears falling, but no sound coming out. Eyes feeling nothing but a cold fire drowning your thoughts the more they saw the verification in front of you.

He looked away, undoing the zip of your suit slowly.

His voice was matter of fact, quiet, but slow. As if the words were climbing over a meaning they couldn't voice out.

"I need to check if you're hurt anywhere else. I'm sorry about your face, Manh---. I’m sorry about your face."

On instinct and as if someone returned your ability to move, you immediately kick at him to push the man away. Wordlessly, you give all your strength into getting away from him.

And Berlin matches you, quietly, elegantly, without brutishness.

But he effectively grips you, holds you so tight you can't move your limbs, and when he feels your strength falter, climbs on top of you, putting your legs in a vice and pulling your arms apart to each side of you, one by one.

But he never hurts you. He doesn't squeeze your wrists, he doesn't cramp your legs, he uses enough force to keep you down - and as you try to move against him, you realise it too - enough force to keep you down and tire yourself out. Not enough to hurt you.

Slowly, your arms rest against the floor, defeated. And Berlin's grip grows gentler as they do. Until he's resting against you. Holding, not gripping.

Slowly he lets your arms go and straightens, just enough to have space to undo your jumpsuit.

"Just..." he articulates clearly, putting effort into each syllable, "checking..." the zip starts going down and your chest heaves, breath quickening but no voice still - Berlin lays an open palm on your ribs and squeezes softly around your body, just under your breasts.

Around, then down. Letting you breathe with his hand. Pushing down to help you breathe out. Breathing with you and alleviating the hand on every breath in.

"...where it hurts."

His other hand leaves your wrist and slides into the jumpsuit from the other side, the sudden warmth enveloping the other side of your ribs, sliding down from your armpit to your waist and holding by the hip, before sliding up again.

Berlin repeats the motion and watches you carefully, even in the dissipating darkness, for any twitch, any gasp, any indication of damage. As he slides all five fingers down from your neck, across your chest and down to your tummy, he rests and notices a few twitches but nothing alarming.

Just you tightening your core or shivering if he finds a tender spot, or a place you didn't want him to touch. And he doesn't linger. Merely marks the spot with his fingertips and moves on.

He then unzips the suit down fully, leaving you in tights and a tank top under it, and begins to unzip his own.

As the man shuffles the weight of fabric off each shoulder, you begin to writhe under him again, fully starting up the attack mode again. Berlin merely smiles a sadder cheshire smile and stops the motion while pinning your eyes with his.

As if he wishes it weren’t this way but continuing nonetheless.

"Shh, Jackdaw. I'm not like that. Your jumpsuit is covered in blood and dirt. You're going to get cold the moment the shock wears off. You're going to get cold and...feel alone. And we can't have that. Knock for me if you still can't speak."

You do. Once. Against the floor.

"Good," his lips curl into a closed smile and his hands resume their motions. His eyebrows are low, concentrated, but calm. His eyes move in the near darkness with the accuracy of a needle.

More nonchalantly, he adds:

"Denver's outside, we have a few hours. They directed the rest on a wild goose chase; they'll tire themselves out."

You don't answer and avoid his eyes again.

Pretending to care now won't change a thing.

Not a thing.

Or…?

His voice circles your senses, the hint of genuine warmth getting right under your skin and leaving you helpless once more…Because in that one sentence, he almost conveyed what you needed from the moment the blindfold went over your eyes:

"Now, come here."

He lifts you into his arms, out of the bloody suit, and holds you to himself. Gripping under your legs and resting your head on his large shoulder. You inadvertently curl your fists into his shirt, only now realising how exposed he is too. And you burrow into Berlin's chest as he carries you to a cleaner surface, lined with fabric and makeshift things to ease the harshness of the ground.

And he lays you down, on your side and slowly sinks behind you, until his body is laying against yours, softly touching. Knees just barely rested against your bent legs. Waist barely hinting at contact with your lower back. Chest just brushing your bare shoulders.

You try to not shift into him, remaining absolutely paralysed. Shivering softly. Sobs beginning to form in your throat but unable to get out.

You feel a strand of hair lifted from your shoulder, away from your neck, and a soft mutter from behind you. It reverberates through your back and touches your chest, and your fists curl on air as if on instinct.

"Would you like to know what you said in your sleep, Jackdaw...what you agreed to?" The deep whisper rests upon your ear, no sarcasm or cheek.

You knock once.

Berlin chuckles softly and continues, voice a low murmur warming your neck.

"I asked, would you like me to hold you? And you..."

You knock once and hear the smile in his voice.

"...you said yes."

❥❥❥

[celestiallure]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ korean celebrities ]❜

╰₊✧ contains: choi seung-hyun, gong ji-cheol, jo yuri, jung ho-yeon, lee byung-hun, lee jung-jae, lee yoo-mi, park gyu-young, park hae-soo, wi ha-joon, won ji-an

just the squid game cast for now! i plan on adding more actors & kpop idols in the future <3

━━━ .°˖✧ choi seung-hyun ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ gong ji-cheol ˚₊ ⊹

camera roll.

you’re too short to kiss him properly┊0.5k words

━━━ .°˖✧ jo yuri ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ jung ho-yeon ˚₊ ⊹

camera roll.

━━━ .°˖✧ lee byung-hyun ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ lee jung-jae ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ lee yoo-mi ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ park gyu-young ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ park hae-soo ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ wi ha-joon ˚₊ ⊹

nothing here yet...

━━━ .°˖✧ won ji-an ˚₊ ⊹

getting woken up by her cat at four in the morning┊0.5k words

[sazura]

someone need to make stories about hwang yang jung and lee duyeong right NOW

[yoongissweetdream]

7:10 AM | Timestamp

Pairing: Dad!Jung Wooyoung x Mum!Reader Synopsis: Wooyoung's favourite girls surprise him for his birthday. Requested by: No one Warnings: I love writing girl!dad Wooyoung so much. Pregnancy. Word Count: 875

A/N: this ended up being longer than a timestamp so enjoy. This took longer to post because my laptop was playing up.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

"What's all this?" Y/N’s husband’s sleepy voice comes from behind her as she puts on the final touches of setting the table for breakfast. 

Turning around, she sees Wooyoung gazing at her with wide, curious eyes, their six-year-old daughter beaming with excitement in his arms. Y/N gives her daughter a playful frown. The little girl had been eager to wake her father for his birthday surprise but she can’t fault her for it. Hae-young had no idea about the plan until Y/N had woken her up this morning, asking if she wanted to help surprise Daddy. There was no way Y/N would have spilled the beans to Hae-young before today. The little girl definitely inherited Wooyoung's yapping tendencies, making her terrible at keeping secrets. If she knew about what Y/N was planning earlier, the surprise would have been ruined.  

"What do we say to Appa?" Y/N prompts Hae-young.  

"Happy Birthday, Appa!" she exclaims joyfully, throwing her arms up in excitement, nearly making Wooyoung lose his hold on her. 

Wooyoung's sleepy grin grows as he finally registers what's happening, his eyes moving from the beautifully decorated table with flowers, balloons, seaweed soup, a couple of gift bags, and a small homemade cake to the excited face of his daughter. "Did you do all this for me?" 

"Eomma did, but I helped!" she proudly declares. 

Y/N watches as Hae-young beams with pride. The sight of their daughter’s enthusiasm fills her with warmth, and she can’t help but smile back at them both. Wooyoung, still half-asleep but now fully engaged, his eyes sparkling with affection, praises his little girl for a job well done before pressing a kiss to her cheek and leaning forward to press a kiss on Y/N's check also. 

Hae-young's laughter rings through the room like music, and Y/N feels her heart swell at the sight of her family. 

"Come on, Appa! You have to open my gift first!" Hae-young tells him, wriggling her way out of her dad's hold before taking his hand, tugging him towards the table. 

As soon as Wooyoung settles into his seat, Hae-young climbs onto his lap, reaching across the table for the larger black gift bag filled with all the things she picked out for him. 

"What did you get for me?" he asks taking the bag, opening it and reaches inside. The first thing he pulls out a black toy stuffed cat, this one different to his Aniteez sitting in her room. This one has big, sparkling green eyes and a tiny pink bow around its neck. Wooyoung chuckles, holding it up for Hae-young to see. "A black cat? You know your Appa very well." 

Hae-young giggles, clearly delighted with her choice of stuffed animal. "There's more, Appa."  

"Is there?" he replies, reaching back into the bag and pulling out three smaller gifts. One is a new bottle of black nail polish that Hae-young insisted on getting after seeing Wooyoung's nails painted for the latest comeback. Another is a box featuring his favorite cologne, and the last looks like a jewellery box. He opens it to reveal a small, intricately designed keychain with a photo of her inside it. Wooyoung smiles recognizing the image. It was of Hae-young, beaming with joy, her hair tousled by the wind, standing on her grandparent’s front doorstep. 

"Wow, Hae-young, I love it so much, I’m going to put it on my keys before I leave for work, so I can show all your uncles!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “they’re going to be so jealous!” 

“Do you think so?” she asks hopeful. 

“I know so,” he assures her. “Now, do you know what eomma got me?” 

She takes a moment to think about it but shakes her head, no.  

"Why don’t you go eat while I open eomma's gift, okay?" he suggests, shifting in his seat. She obediently moves to sit in the chair next to him.  

Y/N picks up the small black gift bag and hands it to him. "It’s not much, but I hope you like it," she says, her voice tinged with nervousness. He looks at her with a hint of concern, takes the bag, and opens it. As he pulls out a box larger than the one containing the keychain, his eyes widen in surprise. Looking at her, a mix of excitement and hope fills his gaze.  

"Is this for real?" he asks, glancing between the sonogram photo and the positive pregnancy test, then back at her. 

"Yes," Y/N replies, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

 In a burst of excitement, Wooyoung quickly stands from his chair, almost knocking it backwards, and wraps her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. "I love you so much," he says in between kisses. "Best birthday ever," he adds when he pulls away enough to wipe her tears that had fallen, not realizing he has tears in his own eyes. 

"Appa? Eomma? Is something wrong?" they hear Hae-young ask, her innocent curiosity breaking through the moment. 

Wooyoung quickly wipes away the tears that had begun to form in his eyes, kneeling down to Hae-young's level. He glances at his wife before looking back at her. "Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Appa's just having the best birthday he's ever had." 

@staytiny2000 - @treehouse-mouse - @katzline - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1

@deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @everythingboutkpop - @oddracha - @http-gyu

@skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite - @keshivibes - @bookswillfindyouaway - @katsukis1wife

@jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @forever-atiny - @lixisoul99 - @do-you-remember-summer-127 -

@catzachvsvt - @ateez-atiny380 - @reayahnadeem24

[laylahluvsasians]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

✧ hii my name is laylah

✧ im a student at princeton university

✧ 22 years old

✧ bisexual

✧ i feen for gong yoo

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:

－ ZERO incest/stepincest, pedophilla, etc.

－ rape, sexual assult, unwanted touch, pregnancy.

－ will only write teacher x student if its in college and LEGAL.

－ illegal age gaps.

－ male readers

－ wont write about rapist, racist or problematic characters/people

－ wont write about minors regardless if they’re aged up or not.

－ character x character, cinema ships (canon or not.)

－ threesomes or poly relationships.

－ mlm or m!reader x female characters

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

－ female readers

－ age gaps (legal)

－ college professor x of age student or teacher x teacher

－ wlw

－ both women and men

－ smut, fluff, angst.

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬/𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

⍟ squid game

⍟ train to busan

⍟ a man and a woman

⍟ silent sea

⍟ bloodhounds

⍟ coffee prince

⍟ alice in borderland

⍟ strangers from hell

⍟ friendly rivalry

⍟ mr.plankton

⍟ pretty little liars

⍟ the vampire diaries

𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

⍟ black pink (all members)

⍟ BTS (all members)

⍟ TWICE (all members)

⍟ straykids (all members)

⍟ le sserafim (all members)

⍟ p1harmony (all members)

⍟ seventeen (all members)

⍟ BIGBANG (all members excluding seungri)

⍟ NJZ (all members)

⍟ ATEEZ (all members)

⍟ AESPA (all members)

⍟ ITZY (all members)

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

⍟ gong yoo (mainly)

⍟ lee jung-jae

⍟ lee byun-hun

⍟ yim siwan

⍟ lee dong wook

⍟ jo yu-ri

⍟ hoyeon

⍟ wi ha-joon

⍟ won ji-an

⍟ lee yoo-mi

⍟ kang ha-neul

⍟ woo do-hwan

⍟ lee hyeri

⍟ nina dobrev

⍟ kat graham

⍟ paul wesley

⍟ chris wood

⍟ kento yamazaki

⍟ nijirō murakami

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

⍟ the salesman

⍟ hankyul

⍟ ki-hong

⍟ han yun-jae

⍟ gi-hun

⍟ hwang inho

⍟ hwang jun-ho

⍟ semi

⍟ junhee

⍟ saebyeok

⍟ hyun-ju

⍟ daeho

⍟ katherine pierce

⍟ bonnie bennet

⍟ stefan salvatore

⍟ caroline forbes

⍟ spencer hastings

⍟ aria montgomery

⍟ emily fields

⍟ hanna marin

⍟ tony cavanough

⍟ alison dilaurentis

⍟ jong-woo

⍟ moon-jo

⍟ hae-jo

⍟ geon-woo

⍟ jae-i

⍟ arisu

⍟ chishiya

⍟ usagi

⍟ kuina

⍟ ann

- 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐖.

[hyunjinners]

Can i request more Ahn Jun-ho one shots? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 I started watching the series recently and i'm in love w that man 😩 i need fics about him 😭

✧:･ﾟComfort Home → Ahn Jun-ho x reader ˚₊· ꒰💚꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Jun-ho's family is full of ups and downs, but his days become better when Jun-ho ends up in the arms of his beloved.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Ahn Jun-ho x fem¡reader.

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort, a little sad (because of his family, but nothing too distressing).

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊fights, family issues, possible trigger (?), Jun-ho in his delicate moment, reader being a good girlfriend >>> 🤍, let me know if you have anything else to add! :)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,3k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊hey! ;) I'm finally able to write something after a while. It's amazing how creativity comes at the most unexpected moments. I hope you like the chapter, as I didn't specify the genre of the chapter in the request, I decided to do something in the middle of the road, a little sad, but happy. English is not my first language! I apologize in advance for any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Good reading! 🤍 ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist.❜ɞ

Jun-ho runs his hand through his hair for the thousandth time during the conversation, more specifically an argument. His eyes burned with a suppressed desire to cry, but he needed to be strong and he knew that showing his true emotions might make him lose his credibility..

“Mom, you need to listen to me. I love you, but everything is very troubled. He does not deserve you. Let go of him, mom… please. If not for me or for you, then for your youngest daughter. Jun-ho speaks a little calmer after his tired sigh. It was the third time this week alone that Jun-ho learned that once again his mother's husband, or the sperm donor as he likes to say, was disrupting the lives of his mother and younger sister.

The abusive relationship between his mother and father is something that has happened since he was little, small signs of a toxic relationship tracing the years before he was even born. Jun-ho's father was extremely intolerant and reckless, always taking small amounts of money that his mother managed to earn to buy food, only to spend it on drinks and more, and if she didn't want to give it, he would beat her like a damn punching bag. And the worst of all was not only that he witnessed these atrocities when he was little, but his younger sister is going through the same process even though he tries to advise his mother to finally open her eyes.

She wasn't an idiot and he understood very well that it wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was still very frustrating, even more so when she called him to ask if her younger sister could stay in his care for a weekend or at least until things got better.

Small and tragic situations like this were what drove Jun-ho to work from such an early age and focus on his studies to have a better life, leaving home as soon as he saved enough money to rent a small apartment in a simple condominium.

But here he was, after finally getting his leave from the army, sitting in his mother's backyard while drinking peanut soju. His mother said she just wanted to talk to him, find out how he was doing and if everything was ok with his girlfriend and events in his life. But after Jun-ho saw the small purple bruise near his mother's cheekbones, he immediately tensed and, what was supposed to be a calm conversation between mother and son, ended up accumulating into a big snowball that was about to explode.

“My son, everything is fine. We're fine, how many times do I need to tell you this?”

“Until the day you leave him and live a happy life. Tell me, mom, when was the last time you gave a sincere smile of happiness? Or the last time you felt happy to finally get home after a hard day at work? You created me and I am very grateful for that, so I just want to repay you by looking out for your good.” She stays silent, seeming to absorb Jun-ho's words, but quickly looks down at the floor with shame and pure sadness, not wanting to have that conversation with her eldest son.

“Please, Jun-ho… let’s not talk about this anymore.” Jun-ho's jaw tightened, but he nodded silently. Jun-ho quickly grabbed his coat, looking straight into his mother's eyes, before walking out the front gate with a pounding in his head..

.

The girl happily turns off the heat of the tomato sauce, placing it on top of the noodles she lovingly prepared for her boyfriend. It had been a year and a few months since Jun-ho joined the army and it was the hardest time of both of their lives. Neither of them were away from each other for that long and both Jun-ho and Y/n knew that the challenges that awaited Jun-ho in the army would require a lot of effort from him, making him feel that his.

Everything became more distressing when Jun-ho barely called or responded to the girl's messages. He was going through an extremely delicate moment with this whole thing about deserters and bullies in the camp, causing him to reserve himself and set aside a period to think alone.

But everything got better when she had the most irresponsible and crazy attitude she had ever had in her life: discovered the location of where Jun-ho was during one of his missions looking for defectors, and went to Busan after a tiring bus ride just to say that whatever happened to him and everything around him, she would always be there to support him and remind him that he was never and will never be alone.

Initially he was desperate and afraid that you would get hurt because you were “invading” a mission, he snapped at you for your irresponsibility but his stance changed after realizing his girlfriend's determination just to make him feel better from all the pressure put on his shoulders. He felt like she was a breath of air in the middle of a cold night that made him shiver as she gently filled his lungs, reminding him of what it is to truly live.

A few months later he finally came home for a month of rest and you couldn't be happier and more grateful. It's been three days since he arrived, and even though he initially seemed a little hesitant and distant, you knew that Jun-ho needed to be home. In your home.

The password verification noise from the front door sounded shrill in the empty and slightly dimly lit apartment, where you could see light and hear the low noise of dishes and pans coming from the kitchen. Jun-ho tried to silently sneak down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Y/n knew he had arrived, so she quickly finished everything in the kitchen to call him to eat.

Turning on the lights in the apartment, Y/n walked calmly towards the bedroom, opening the door ajar, then hearing the low thump of the shower water bathing Jun-ho's body. Smiling, the girl knocked lightly on the bathroom door, happy that he was finally home. She was a considerably anxious person, so she planned and scheduled an entire night together, including a movie and hugs, all for Jun-ho's rest and comfort.

“Hey, Jun-ho.” Y/n speaks in a tone loud enough to overpower the sound of the water, which was turned off when Jun-ho heard his girlfriend's voice. "Hey my love. I'm already going, I'm just going to finish my shower. You can eat if you want.” His voice was considerably lower than normal, but she just brushes it off by muttering a small confirmation.

Almost half an hour has passed when Jun-ho finally sits down on the chair opposite Y/n. His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Comfortably beautiful, she thought. He directed a slight smile at her, which unconsciously showed his tiredness and discouragement. A wave of worry flooded Y/n's thoughts, imagining what must have happened at her house.

Y/n was aware of her mother-in-law's abusive relationship and knew that Jun-ho didn't approve of any of it, getting frustrated every time she spoke to her mother or saw her in person. With a knowing smile, Y/n reached out, cradling Jun-ho's hand in hers. "Everything is fine?”

The short sentence of just three words was the trigger, the direct impulse for him to break. His eyes were slightly red and burned from the tears shed during the shower, but now it didn't matter because they came back with full force, making Jun-ho's face moist.

Y/n immediately went to his side, wrapping him in a tight hug, Jun-ho's head resting in the crook of her neck. Seeing Jun-ho cry meant that he was at the height of everything, that everything came together and came crashing down with a thunderous thud.

Jun-ho was the type of person who prioritized maintaining a firm stance so as not to have to explain his weaknesses and concerns, but when he was around his girlfriend it was like that whole facade fell and he felt the need to spill everything to her. He felt heard and loved when he was with her, he didn't feel like a burden or a nuisance, he was just him. He could be him around Y/n because she was her around him too, she prioritized his well-being before hers and he sometimes didn't know how to show his gratitude.

Feeling Jun-ho's shoulders shake and hearing his painful sobs was like a stab in her back, making her feel helpless because she couldn't do anything to take away all the pain and weight from him, everything.

With a gentle squeeze on his shoulders, she hugged Jun-ho affectionately, feeling him getting impossibly closer to her. The smell of her perfume made Jun-ho feel more comfortable, she smells like home, he thought. This made him cry even more, feeling unworthy of having such a caring person by your side to not only listen but also understand your emotions and help you deal with them.

Y/n can feel her own tears falling down her face, her heart almost comes out of her mouth at the thought of her love, her world, the most important person in her life being in pain. Not just any pain, but the worst pain ever. The emotional pain. The pain of not being able to do anything, the pain of feeling unable to help the people you love.

He knew the situation was beyond his reach, which was why he felt so frustrated. He didn't need to say anything to her, his tears told a silent story of an ongoing event that unfortunately affects Jun-ho's life. She understood him, so she didn't ask anything. Her sobs stopped and her tears lessened considerably. Y/n gently pushed Jun-ho away from him, but not far enough to break the hug.

Jun-ho's now red and swollen eyes widened at the sight of the tears that now graced his girlfriend's face. She reached out with her hands and her thumbs wiped away the tears so gently as if Jun-ho would break down at any moment. He repeated the process, wiping away Y/n's tears, doubt dancing across his expression.

“Why are you crying, dear? I hurt you?" His voice, hoarse from crying, was almost a whisper, hesitantly low. She smiled, resting her hand on Jun-ho's that rested on the girl's cheek. “No, that's not it. I just hate with all my might to see you sad. You make me so happy, Jun-ho, that seeing you sad is like seeing clouds cover up the sun on a summer afternoon.” He absorbs the words and for the first time that night she shows a smile. He admired the empathy that Y/n had not only for those she loved, but for all people and without expecting anything in return.

“You don’t need to cry if you weren’t the cause behind my tears…thanks for supporting me, darling.” As a simple answer, Y/n leans slightly towards Jun-ho's lips, her breath tickling his face. Jun-ho connects their lips in a needy kiss, a reciprocal comfort being silently placed upon each other.

“Promise me that when you have a problem you won't keep it to yourself? I'm here for and for you, Jun-ho. You can tell me things that there is no need to repress within yourself. You are a wonderful human being and deserve love like anyone else. And I love you, that's why I'm available for everything. Even if it’s just to sit next to you in silence.”

Y/n watches the light reflect on Jun-ho's face from the new solitary tear shed, but there was no sadness this time, just the happiness of understanding that he was not alone on the walk. That I had a home to return to in bad times. Without saying anything else, this time he hugs her tightly, drawing small imaginary circles on her back.

“Thank you for caring about me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” They both knew that this was not the first nor would it be the last fight between Jun-ho and his family, but this time he was aware that he had arms waiting for him to rest on difficult days.

⊹₊˚ʚ❛A/N: It was supposed to be a short chapter, but I guess I can't even complain because I finally developed something after so much creative block. I hope you liked it, tell me what you think! :) If you made an ask, don't worry, I just haven't had enough creativity yet to develop a chapter, but we'll have news soon. like × reblog. by:: @hyunjinners .❜ɞ

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ cherry ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ berlin x hostage!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is a part one to this imagine, scarface!

˚ ༘♡ four trillion won.

˚ ༘♡ that was the amount they intended to steal, an unimaginable fortune. the audacity of their plan stunned you, even as you sat there in silence. you couldn’t understand why they hadn’t already taken the money and disappeared into the night. why target the korean mint, one of the most heavily secured institutions in the country, knowing full well that the highest figures in government and law enforcement would throw the full extent of their resources against them? it was only after you pressed your ear against the locked door of the conference room you were being held in that you learned the truth. two of the masked criminals spoke in hushed tones outside, unaware of your eavesdropping. they weren’t stealing money, they were printing it. trillions of won, created right there in the heart of the mint. they had turned the hostages into laborers for their grand design.

˚ ༘♡ the sheer boldness of their plan was breathtaking. how could they possibly believe they would escape unscathed with such a colossal operation? the more you thought about it, the more impossible it seemed, yet there you were, locked away in this quiet chamber while chaos reigned elsewhere in the building. the government had to be handling this delicately, you thought. surely, they were devising a plan to save you and the others. but doubt crept in. could even the most experienced strategists outmaneuver criminals who had taken control of the mint and were orchestrating a crime of this magnitude?

˚ ༘♡ time felt meaningless in the isolation of the room. the only sign that a day had passed was the clock mounted on the wall, its rhythmic ticking drilling into your ears. you hadn’t seen anyone since being brought here, hadn’t exchanged a word with a single soul. the only sounds were muffled voices from the floors below and the occasional shuffle of footsteps beyond the door.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on a velvet couch, its soft fabric a sinister comfort in this nightmare, staring blankly at the far wall. thoughts of your coworkers plagued your mind. you pictured their faces, their fear, their desperation. you knew they were suffering far worse than you, trapped in the thick of it while you were left here in this eerie silence. guilt gnawed at you, but so did dread. you wanted to believe the government would send in a rescue team, that the nightmare would end in a blaze of heroics. but you knew better. any such attempt could end in bloodshed, a massacre for everyone trapped inside the mint.

˚ ༘♡ the sharp metallic click of the door unlocking shattered the suffocating silence of the room, sending a jolt through your body. instinctively, you scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging through your veins, but the moment your eyes landed on the figure stepping through the doorway, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. it was berlin.

˚ ༘♡ in spite of the hahoe mask obscuring most of his face, there was no mistaking him. you’d heard his voice, his threatening commands, his venomous tone bleeding through the walls. he wasn’t just another cog in this terrifying machine, he was at the heart of it, the one pulling strings inside the mint while another, someone they called the professor, directed the chaos from elsewhere. berlin wasn’t the kind of man you could reason with, his presence was a cold, oppressive force that turned your stomach to stone.

˚ ༘♡ he removed the mask slowly, revealing a face carved from ice. his expression was devoid of warmth, his eyes glinting with something darker than malice, a kind of calculated cruelty that made you feel like prey cornered by a predator. your breath caught in your throat as he slammed the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating like a death knell in the confined space.

˚ ༘♡ “did you miss me?” his voice was low, mocking, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t find your voice. your knees buckled, and you collapsed back onto the velvet sofa as he strode toward you with slow, measured steps, each one harsher, each one amplifying the dread pooling in your chest. his hand rested on the rifle slung over his shoulder.

˚ ༘♡ he stopped mere inches from you, so close that his legs brushed against your knees. the air between you felt suffocating, stagnant with peril. his shadow loomed over you and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at him.

˚ ༘♡ “get up,” he ordered, his tone cutting like a blade. “we’ve got work to do.”

˚ ༘♡ your body refused to move. whether it was fear or disbelief, you weren’t sure, but the hesitation sealed your fate. his hand shot out, clamping around your wrist with a grip that felt like iron. before you could even register the pain, he yanked you to your feet with such force that you stumbled into him, your heart pounding wildly as his dark eyes bore into yours. there was no mercy in that gaze, no humanity, only control.

˚ ༘♡ “what do you need me to do?” you asked, the words tumbling out in a whisper, trembling as if your voice alone might provoke him further.

˚ ༘♡ his response wasn’t immediate. instead, his lips curled into a cruel grin, one that made your blood run cold. he tilted his head slightly, studying you like a wolf savoring its next move. then, without warning, his hand shot up, his fingers wrapping around your neck.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t choke you, not fully, but his grip was aggresive, sending a clear message that any resistance would be futile. his thumb pressed against your pulse, a mocking acknowledgment of the fear coursing through you.

˚ ༘♡ “what i need,” he said, his voice a dangerous growl, “is for you to listen.”

˚ ༘♡ before you could respond, he pulled his pistol from its holster, the cold steel brushing against your forehead. your breath became erratic, and tears blurred your vision as terror consumed you. the gun pressed harder against your head, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. he didn’t speak, didn’t move, he simply held you there.

˚ ༘♡ the silence stretched into eternity, every second an excruciating reminder of how close you were to the edge of oblivion. then, as abruptly as he’d grabbed you, he released his hold.

˚ ༘♡ you stumbled back, crashing into the edge of the desk, the sharp corner digging into your spine. tears streaked down your cheeks, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you stared at him, your voice shaking with anger and desperation. “what kind of psycho are you?” you spat through the tears. “i’ve done everything you’ve asked. I haven’t disobeyed a single order!”

˚ ༘♡ his laugh was cold, abrupt, and vacant of humor. he holstered the pistol with a conscious indifference, his eyes never leaving yours. “i know,” he said, his voice ridden with disdain.

˚ ༘♡ he picked up the assault rifle with a practically casual motion, his cold gaze never departing you. the barrel of the gun rose slowly, aiming directly at your head. the air in the room thickened, suffocating, and the only sound was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. your legs quivered beneath you as though the terror of his presence alone had crushed you. sliding to the floor, you tried to speak, to plead for mercy, but your lips trembled, and no sound came. the words dissolved into the air, swallowed by the apprehension that left you paralyzed.

˚ ༘♡ he placed his finger on the trigger, his expression unreadable, detached, like this was just another mundane task in a long list of crimes. you stared down the cold, unyielding barrel of the rifle, waiting for the inevitable. and then, gunfire. a deafening roar. your eyes slammed shut, and you flinched, the sound of bullets tearing into the wall behind you ricocheting in your skull. debris rained down, and your breath came in shallow, gasping bursts. when you opened your eyes, he was lowering the gun, his actions unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to terrify you.

˚ ༘♡ “rio, get in here,” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding, shattering the tense silence.

˚ ༘♡ you barely registered the door opening as your chest heaved, struggling to catch your breath. a younger man entered, casually carrying a camera setup as if he were walking into a studio rather than a hostage situation. rio, you guessed, from the name berlin had called. his demeanor was unnervingly lighthearted, a jarring contrast to the man who had just fired bullets inches from your head.

˚ ༘♡ berlin turned his attention back to you, his cold eyes piercing through you as he slowly stalked toward where you were curled up on the floor. his boots echoed against the hard surface, each step jarring. then, unexpectedly, he crouched down in front of you. he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against your trembling fingers before wiping away the tears streaking your face. the gesture was gentle, but it felt like he was taunting you.

˚ ༘♡ he tucked a stray lock of your disheveled hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him. “i’m sorry,” he said softly, his tone laced with condescension and faint amusement. “but you looked far too proper. too polished. not the image of a convincing hostage.” his words sank into you like poison, cold and sharp, leaving you speechless.

˚ ༘♡ before you could respond, rio’s voice cut through the tension, cheerful and jarring. “don’t listen to him. berlin just likes torturing people.” his grin was wide, almost playful, but it didn’t reach his eyes. the casual cadence in his tone made you shudder.

˚ ༘♡ berlin shot rio a hard, withering glare that silenced him instantly. the mood in the room darkened, the tension coiling tighter as both men pulled on their hahoe masks. rio stepped forward, adjusting the camera, and handed you a crumpled piece of paper. your hands shook as you took it, the paper feeling heavier than it should have, as though the weight of whatever was written on it could crush you.

˚ ༘♡ “what is this?” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse and shaking. your hair hung in messy strands around your face, your clothes rumpled and stained from where you’d slid to the floor, every inch of you a reflection of the chaos unraveling around you.

˚ ༘♡ rio positioned the camera with precision, angling it to focus solely on you. “when i say go,” he said with an unsettling lightness, “read it. and look at the camera. don’t mess it up.”

˚ ༘♡ you unfolded the paper with trembling hands, your tears smudging the ink as you tried to make sense of the scrawled words. your pulse thundered in your ears as you glanced between the two masked figures, their faces unreadable, their stillness oppressive.

˚ ༘♡ the camera’s red light blinked on. rio stepped back, folding his arms as berlin stood in the background, his rifle now resting at his side. “go,” rio said, his tone commanding despite the casualness of his earlier demeanor.

˚ ༘♡ the cold steel of berlin’s pistol pressed against your temple, leading you to freeze you in place. every nerve in your body screamed to move, to fight, but you couldn’t. his presence mounted over you, magnified by the hahoe mask concealing his expression. you could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, threatening to drown out the words you were about to speak.

˚ ༘♡ your lips parted and you forced yourself to read from the crumpled paper in your hand. “this is a message to the korean defense ministry,” you began, your voice thin and uneven. your hands shook, the paper rustling audibly in the tense silence. “the criminals have taken me, the daughter of the defense minister, hostage.” you paused, struggling to steady your breathing. the weight of berlin’s pistol and the red, unblinking eye of the camera intensified the unbearable dread coursing through you.

˚ ༘♡ “they order that no action should be taken in aiding local enforcement in the matter of the crisis in the mint.” your voice wavered, breaking slightly as you swallowed the lump in your throat. the next line felt like poison, each word lodging itself in your chest. “as if any mandate is given… the defense minister will never see his precious daughter again.”

˚ ༘♡ an agonizing silence followed, the tension in the air so thick it felt like it might crush you. rio, standing behind the camera, finally broke it with an unsettling grin. “i think that’s good,” he said, pulling off his mask, his tone disturbingly mirthful, as though you’d just finished rehearsing a scene for a school play.

˚ ༘♡ berlin followed suit, removing his mask with slow consideration. his face was as composed as ever, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes betrayed a faint trace of satisfaction. he slid the pistol back into its holster, the click of metal echoing in the small, intolerable space.

˚ ༘♡ “you did well,” berlin said, his voice calm but dripping with mockery. “almost brought a tear to my eye.” he paused. “when your father sees this video, I have no doubt he’ll abandon any foolish notions of sending reinforcements. wouldn’t want him making a mistake he’d regret for the rest of his life.”

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t speak. the words wouldn’t come even if you tried. your body felt limp, burdened by the fear coursing through you. your eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet his gaze, the humiliation and terror blending into a numbing haze.

˚ ༘♡ berlin exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed by your lack of answer. “fine, don’t say anything,” he muttered. rio had already begun disassembling the camera, his relaxed efficiency grating against the gravity of what had just transpired. berlin turned to leave, but not before throwing one last barb your way.

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll send someone to bring you food later,” he said, his tone tranquil, as though he were discussing a room service order. “and stop acting so disturbed. i’ve already told you, you won’t get hurt unless your father does something idiotic.”

˚ ༘♡ his words hung in the air as he followed rio out of the room. the heavy door slammed shut behind them, and the sound of the lock sliding into place echoed ominously in the silence.

˚ ༘♡ you remained where you were, collapsed on the cold floor, your body trembling uncontrollably. your breath came in shallow gasps, each inhale feeling like it might rip your chest apart. the slip of paper dropped from your fingers, landing on the floor akin to a ghost of the words you’d spoken.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze drifted to the wall, where the faint outline of bullet holes from berlin’s earlier demonstration still lingered. it was a cruel reminder of how precarious your situation was, how fragile your life had become. you tried to gather your thoughts, to steady yourself, but the crushing reality of what you’d just done, what they’d made you do, settled over you akin to an inescapable gloom.

˚ ༘♡ the room was quiet now, but the cruelty of their threats, their presence, still lingered, suffocating and relentless. you were alone again, yet you could feel their eyes on you, even from beyond the locked door. the words you’d spoken would soon reach your father. whether they would save you or sentence you to death, you had no way of knowing. all you could do was wait and wonder how much further they’d push you before you shattered completely.

˚ ༘♡ another day dragged by, wretched with misery and isolation. the meal left for you was delivered not by berlin but by a masked woman, who you identified as nairobi. you only knew her name because the guard outside your door addressed her so casually, as if this nightmare was their mundane routine. the food sat untouched. the idea of eating felt almost laughable. hunger clawed at your stomach, but your appetite had long since been smothered by fear and despair.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t sleep. even when you closed your eyes, the silence of the room became deafening, amplifying every creak, every muffled voice, every thought. it left you no escape, only an endless loop of dread. the hours blurred together, and though you tried to find some shred of humanity in fixing your tangled hair and wiping away the remnants of smeared makeup, it was futile. the mirror reflected not a person but a ghost of one.

˚ ༘♡ you thought, bitterly, that the solitude would break you long before anyone had the chance to pull a trigger. this room had become a prison in every sense, its walls closing in, your own mind a tormentor. it felt like time itself was disparaging you, dragging endlessly on.

˚ ༘♡ on what must have been the third day, something shattered the monotonous rhythm. the muffled voices on the floor below you grew louder, more agitated, their tones sharper and more frantic. you pressed your ear to the door, your pulse quickening as you tried to make out the words. and then, suddenly, a gunshot.

˚ ༘♡ the sound was deafening and raucous. you flinched violently, stumbling back from the door, your heart hammering so hard it felt as though it might burst. the echo of the shot reverberated through the building, and then, silence. ominous, oppressive silence.

˚ ༘♡ your mind raced. had someone been killed? one of the hostages? one of the criminals? your breath quickened, each inhale feeling more shallow than the last. you strained to hear anything beyond the stillness, but nothing came.

˚ ༘♡ minutes ticked by like hours before the sound of approaching footsteps outside your door made you freeze. the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. berlin stepped in, and the sight of him sent a surge of fear crashing over you.

˚ ༘♡ he looked different. the composed, almost smug demeanor he had worn like armor before was gone. sweat clung to his sun-tanned skin, and his dark hair was damp, strands clinging to his forehead. his movements were sharp, erratic, like a man barely keeping control of something volatile within himself.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t move,” he rasped, his voice rough, the edge of it sharper than you’d ever heard before.

˚ ༘♡ you stood motionless, your body locked in place as he strode toward you with purpose. without warning, his hand slid along your midriff and waist, his touch invasive and deliberate.

˚ ༘♡ “what are you doing?” you managed to ask, your voice trembling as his fingers moved down to your hips. the sensation made your skin crawl, a mixture of fear and indignation boiling inside you.

˚ ༘♡ “making sure you’re not carrying something you shouldn’t be,” he replied coldly, his eyes narrowing as they bored into yours. his gaze was darker than before, something dangerous simmering just beneath the surface. “one of your co-workers decided to do something moronic,” he continued, his tone flat yet menacing. “and that will be the first and last time anything of that sort happens under my watch.”

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed hard, your throat dry as his words sank in. he stepped back slightly, but the tension in the air remained suffocating.

˚ ༘♡ “rules exist for a reason,” he said, his voice strained with warning. “and when they’re broken, there are consequences. severe ones.”

˚ ༘♡ his words dripped with malice, each syllable a remnant of the power he held. you didn’t need to ask what had happened downstairs, the gunshot told you everything. berlin’s words weren’t merely a warning, they were a promise.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, trembling, your thoughts plagued with what might have led to the shot, who might have paid the price. you didn’t dare ask, he would not tell you. berlin’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he turned, his steps swift and purposeful.

˚ ༘♡ “wait,” you called out, your voice hushed but adequate enough to be heard through the quiet.

˚ ༘♡ berlin stopped in his tracks, his body tense, the sharp turn of his head exuding equal parts vexation and interest. his piercing eyes locked onto yours, and for a minute, he said nothing, letting the weight of his stare bear down on you. “what?” he demanded, his tone jeering, eyebrows raised in irritation.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze flicked down to the pistol strapped to his holster, then back up to his face. the thought that had formed in your mind was reckless, desperate, but it burned too fiercely to ignore. perhaps it was the days of isolation gnawing at your sanity, the endless hours of silence breaking you down. perhaps it was the suffocating fear that someone you knew might have just been killed, their life burnt out like a candle while you sat helplessly. or perhaps it was simply madness. whatever the reason, you made your choice.

˚ ༘♡ your legs moved before your mind could catch up. closing the distance between you, your breath unstable as you stood mere inches from him. berlin’s expression flashed with surprise, his body stiffening at your sudden proximity. you leaned in, your trembling lips brushing against his, and kissed him.

˚ ༘♡ for a heartbeat, everything stopped. the air seemed to crackle with tension, your pulse roaring in your ears. you had half-expected him to shove you away, to respond with mockery or fury, but he didn’t. instead, berlin leaned into you, his lips pressing firmly against yours. his hands, strong and willful, slid into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he deepened the kiss. his touch was practiced, commanding, and for a vanishing instant, you felt yourself lose control, immersed in the sudden intimacy.

˚ ༘♡ but the pistol. your mind screamed at you, yanking you back to reality. your hand moved instinctively, reaching for the cold grip of his weapon, but your fingers hesitated, trembling just inches away. the weight of what you were attempting began to sink in. even if you managed to grab it, even if you were fast enough, berlin still had his rifle slung over his shoulder. he was trained, dangerous, and ruthless. you would be dead before you even had a chance to fire. the consequences of your impulsive plan became glaringly clear, and your resolve vanished.

˚ ༘♡ finally, you broke the kiss, your breath uneven as you stepped back, your lips tingling from the lingering heat of his. berlin didn’t move for a short while, his hand still resting in your hair, his expression indistinct. slowly, he straightened, wiping the corner of his mouth with a measured motion. your crimson lipstick had left a faint stain on his lips, a warm mark against his otherwise cold exterior.

˚ ༘♡ he glanced down at his fingers, then back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you’re a lovely girl,” he said, his tone soft but laced with condescension, “but don’t you think you’re a little young for me?”

˚ ༘♡ his words stung, slashing through the haze of your reckless attempt. he reached for his pistol, not in alarm, but almost as if reminding you of its presence, and adjusted it in the holster, his gaze glistening with quiet amusement.

˚ ༘♡ “nice try,” he added, his voice low, his smirk widening slightly. “but let me give you some advice, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

˚ ༘♡ the door creaked open again, breaking the heated tension, and this time, it was nairobi and tokyo who stepped inside, their presence an abrupt shift in the air. their eyes immediately fell on you and berlin, and their expressions morphed into those of stunned bewilderment. nairobi’s brows shot up, her gaze drifting between berlin’s crimson-stained lips and your disheveled appearance. your hair was still messy, your lipstick smeared, and your clothes rumpled from the chaos of the last few moments. tokyo’s expression, however, was sharper, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene with a mix of suspicion and barely concealed fury.

˚ ༘♡ “i think our hostage has developed stockholm syndrome,” nairobi said with a laugh, her voice breaking through the awkward atmosphere. her tone was playful, almost teasing, as if she were enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

˚ ༘♡ you flushed with embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks. being seen like this, vulnerable, exposed, was humiliating, and nairobi’s comment only deepened the shame aching in your chest. you glanced away, trying to avoid their gazes, but it was futile. they had already seen enough.

˚ ༘♡ “berlin!” tokyo snapped, her voice sharp and accusatory. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

˚ ༘♡ the shift in berlin’s demeanor was immediate and unmistakable. his jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened, his irritation rising to the surface. it was clear from the way he glared at tokyo that he despised her, there was no mistaking the loathing in his face.

˚ ༘♡ “what do you want?” berlin demanded, his tone malicious and impatient. “this better be important.”

˚ ༘♡ tokyo crossed her arms, rolling her eyes at his deflection. “the professor wants to speak to the defense minister’s daughter.”

˚ ༘♡ the mention of the professor sent a chill down your spine. berlin’s presence was terrifying enough, but the professor, this unseen mastermind pulling the strings, was a obscure figure who appeared even more dangerous in his absence.

a/n: let me know your thoughts and if you have anymore requests for money heist!!! 🤍

[phoebecatesl0vr]

YALL HE'S GIVING US A DAMN FEAST, WE'RE BEING FED WELL THIS MONTH 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚜: 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗/𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘 𝚡 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵 ♡

♡ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜.

♡ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝙰𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝. 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢. 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃.)

♡ 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Your hands are shaking. You feel like crying as you anxiously wait for the result of the test.

You honestly should have 100% expected this to happen, but in the moment, neither you nor Berlin were thinking about protection.

He was on top of you, kissing and worshipping your whole entire body as you came undone underneath him. The way he slammed in and out of you was heaven as your bodies intertwined passionately.

Before you knew it, he exploded inside of you and you were so caught up in the pleasure you didn’t even consider the outcome. All you could focus on was him.

Berlin is your boyfriend officially, but things are still very very new. You have only been together for a little less than a year now but you know in your heart that he’s perfect for you. He’s intimidating, bold, the slightest bit domineering. Your sweet, gentle disposition compliments him perfectly, making you two a match made in heaven.

He’s older than you as well, so much older. He’s 41, and you are in your early 20’s. You look up to him as sort of an authoritative figure, but primarily a lover. He guides you through life and you remind him not to take himself too seriously, despite the “business” he’s in.

The double line illuminates on the screen of the test. Positive. Your pulse throbs in your neck as anxiety washes over you.

What will Berlin think? You immediately do what your brain always does: imagine the worst case scenario. He’s going to be pissed, upset, stressed, and then leave you. He won’t want to deal with a baby at his age, let alone at all. Berlin, Song Jung-Ho, one of the most high-profile criminals in the country, is not going to want to be a father. Nuh uh. No way.

You hastily throw the test in the trash.

You’ve always wanted to be a mother. You love babies. You have always wanted to nurture a little one, watch them grow and develop their own personality, and share so many memories and experiences with them. Will Berlin want that too, though? You really truly don’t know, but as mentioned before, you’re almost certain he doesn’t want that. He’s too wrapped up in his “business.”

The front door jostles and heavy footsteps clunk in the foyer. Shit, he’s home for the day.

“My angel! Where are you hiding?” His voice echoes through the house as you slowly tiptoe out of the bathroom.

“Hey…how’s the planning going?” You ask, trying to make conversation while also keeping your cool.

“It’s going well. Those goddamn hostages better start behaving themselves, though. I’m tired of their shit. The only way to get ‘em to listen is to scare the shit out of ‘em.” He scoffs.

You nod slowly, a worried expression clearly donning on your face.

He’s quick to notice that you are not your usual cheery, bubbly self. Normally you’re all over him, arms wrapped around him, peppering his face in kisses. Right now, you’re noticeably somber.

He approaches you. His tall frame hovers over you as he brings a hand up to your cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“What’s wrong my little love? You can tell me anything.” He softens his gaze.

You smile bashfully at his touch. His dark, almost black eyes bore into you . Your own eyes fall to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact. He knows the hold he has on you.

“Nothing, Jung-Ho. Just have a stomach ache, that’s all.” You lie.

“Go lie down, then.” He squeezes your cheek before kissing it, then pats your head and makes his way to the bathroom. Oh fuck.

Your heart races. You lie down on the couch and hope and pray he doesn’t notice the test in the trash. This was futile.

The bathroom door creaks. Berlin stands in front of you. He crosses his arms, smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, huh?”

You gulp as you quickly stand up.

“Jung-Ho, I’m so sorry—I was way too scared to tell you—If you want to leave I understand—“ Your face burns red hot as your stammer.

He smiles so widely that the corners of his eyes wrinkle. He immediately pulls you into a strong embrace. He nearly breaks you with how tightly he’s holding you. You melt into him, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. His lips meet yours in a gentle, soft kiss.

“We’re going to be parents!” He exclaims. Your heart melts at his enthusiasm. You’re extremely excited and also extremely relieved.

He presses his forehead against yours. “Why were you afraid to tell me, little love?” His words ghost against your lips.

“I-I didn’t know how you were going to react. I was afraid you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you! That’s ridiculous, my darling. I would never leave you no matter what. Also, you’re a horrible liar. I knew something was up with you the minute I stepped in here.” He laughs.

You beam at him. You look at him and see your future. The father of your child. Your future husband, hopefully. He rubs your belly tenderly. “Well what are we waiting for? We need to prepare for our little one!”

Over the next couple of months, your belly grows and so does your love for Berlin. He’s always been a completely different person when he’s at home, with you. Now he’s an extra different person with the pregnant version of you.

He gets you whatever you want at the drop of a dime. If you mention you are craving something, he will buy you 100 of them. He cooks for you, cleans for you, and watches you like a hawk to make sure you’re safe and healthy. He’s follows you everywhere, you’re his top priority.

He’s so worried about you that it could even be a little overbearing at times, but you know he means well. He doesn’t want anyone even so much as looking at you while you’re pregnant.

“Do you need anything? Do you want anything?” You hear these phrases come out of Berlin’s mouth over a thousand times a day. His tough exterior completely fades when it comes to you and your child. He’s always holding you close by, his arm around you protectively.

He holds your waist, holds your belly, and is constantly giving you kisses and cuddles and reassuring you that you look beautiful, even if you might not feel that way.

The night before your due date rolls around, and Berlin is as excited as ever. His phone rings, but he doesn’t care about anything relating to the heist right now. He just wants to meet your precious angel who he will love forever, along with you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yxluana , @swtt4hk , @massivecheesecakesmuttss , @miss-conjayniality , @ladiesman21777 , @dilfismz , @vkeyy , @kudiikis , @daeholuvs , @insidekatmind , @sealcowboy , @torasgfreal , @melfresita-ruri , @ellfucksup , @hrh007, @m4nbl00d , @phoebecatesl0vr , @meadowfics

[gnohomotho]

Run, If You Want to be Caught 「Pt. 1」♡☣♡

Pairing: Berlin x fem!reader Summary: What the fuck am I doing here-I am trying to honour the countless requests I got for Berlin! ˊᵕˋ ───♡───────────── The story builds slowly - you meet before the heist, you meet during it, and you get...close. He's incredibly good at pushing boundaries, and he enjoys you the more he gets to know you. Even if you don't know he's doing it half the time. You start as a hostage, and, well...you seem to have caught someone's interest. Someone who takes interest far, far too far. ───♡───────────── Other characters featured too. ───♡───────────── Your character is referred to as 'Manhattan', if you get the reason, you get a free fic of your choosing no questions asked. ―୨୧⋆ ˚ Warnings: This is part one, I intend to make it rather warm if not scolding, but MDNI 18+. Implied (ETHICAL, LEGAL, DOUBLE ETHICAL) age gap, mentions of death, guns, violence, bondage, touching, questionable consent. Physical contact. That "plan" of Berlin's includes zipties and gags, just saying ಇ. Control, stalking, threats, sexual themes and tension. Word count: 7.3k A/N: Lord have mercy on my doomed soul, this man, this man. ⚠︎♡ No, really, I put quite a bit into this but was really worried I'd mess up due to not having watched the series through, and I'm trying to keep the tension and the contact up while not being vulgar or cheap. Bit flooded right now, but I adore you readers so much - and had quite some fun with certain scenes. Hope you do too! ʚ♡ɞ ───♡───────────── No spoilers included and no spoilers, please, I am incredibly slow watching the series itself - if anyone is out of character please don't hesitate to shoot me. ───♡───────────── Also, Sartemy, here's a challenge - one fic without the f!reader being referred to by sweet diminutive nicknames out of a biology textbook. One. Lovely dividers by: @cafekitsune If you like my writing, requests, or just want to keep the blog afloat - I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // question // message! ♥ Link to next Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ ♡ Requests are OPEN ♡

You were just supposed to fill in for a friend.

That was it.

As you punched card after card and heard the machine beep in reply, you thought you'd manage a few more hours of this.

After all, you were just filling in for a friend.

Your mind wandered to earlier this week when you were leaving the campus.

❥❥❥

You sat on a bench with a coffee and something to eat and noticed arguing in barely hushed breaths.

You didn't listen, only threw a few more bites at the little dark jackdaws fighting for each crumb.

"You're impossible."

"And you didn't have to threaten them! Christ, what is wrong with you?!"

"Less than is right with you, keep your voice down."

"Or what, you'll threaten me too?"

"I don't need to threaten things that consistently fuck up. Calm down."

You tried not to listen.

You really did.

You tried not to look up.

You could discern one voice was faster, younger, and more pointed.

The other...slower. Older. More level but still, volatile right underneath the surface.

The larger bird was hopping around the smaller one, pretending to be done with its meal. Blue eyes pinned on the bread.

The voices got closer.

"Oh, now you're going to run to the Professor, tail between your legs? Was the big nasty man too mean to you?"

"No, you're a hot-headed hole in the ship's hull and you'll sink the entire bloody thing!"

The small bird tried to enjoy its meal but the larger one took it from its beak the moment its head looked up at the commotion.

You didn't look up.

"Alright, then learn to fucking swim you---"

Just as the voices got loud enough for you to thoroughly study each feather before you for sheer will to not appear to be listening, they stopped.

For a moment nothing but the scuttle of little talons and pecks accompanied your heartbeat. The dark birds were joined by a pair of dark shoes that turned your way.

"We shouldn't argue here."

No, you shouldn't, you really shouldn't, Mr. Sugar-on-hot-coals-voice, you think.

The voice seemed to calm down and coat itself in honey to slow down. The jackdaws looked up and resumed pecking. You threw another piece at them trying to pretend your heart wasn't beginning to race.

"In fact," the older voice said, "why don't you go get yourself something nice, let the dust settle, and I'll apologise for the ruckus."

You heard the smile in the voice, but there was an edge. Impatience coated in a resolute firmness to keep things in line. You hear a sigh and a pair of steps leaving you. But not the shoes invading your field of vision.

Silence.

It made your heart leap. But no, not today. You brushed your skirt and inhaled, steadying your own voice.

"OK, little ones, I think I have a lecture I should be at, have a nice one."

You begin to lift but the shoes close the distance.

One by one.

You finally look up, gripping the edges if the bench just a tad too tight.

Up along the fitted trousers, the strong hands, the neat blue fabric reflecting the afternoon light.

Up.

Calm down, calm down, calm down...

It hits you right between the eyes.

The tanned face of a man with dark hair combed back, dark eyebrows, eyes like coal trailing his gaze across and into you. He catches your look and holds.

A small Cheshire grin, polite eyes, and a well-polished suit stand before you – harsh hands in front of him firmly clasped as if he were simply resting on the heels of his shining shoes with not a care in the world.

As if you were the last one to hand in the assignment and you were about to get absolutely...

Oh, there was something in those eyes. Something that spoke of carnage left after the fire had burnt straight through. Coated in a sweetness that you were pretty sure neither of you believed in.

The blank blue eyes of the birds looked more honest than his, still, you looked down again, apologetically. You began to mutter.

"I was talking to the birds, I'm sorry. I'm leaving now," you explain and try another covert situation avoidance.

But he doesn't move.

You feel trapped, even as people walk by, and try to think to be polite about simply leaving. It shouldn't be so hard. It shouldn't.

He doesn't move away, but his body doesn't seem to be able to stay still. You see it in the sway on his heels, in the way his knees are perpetually shifting their weight.

You look up again, his head cocks to the side and that self-satisfied smile shines through for just a second, before returning to something vaguely polite.

His eyes smile into a gentler expression.

"I'm so sorry miss, I feel the need to apologise for the intrusion." He doesn't move as he shifts his eyes to the two birds running around his shoes looking for the bread he walked over.

You smile inadvertently and he continues.

"And for disturbing your companions."

He seems ardent at catching your eyes, a silent demand of 'look at me when I'm speaking to you', but he doesn't voice it. He's expecting you to play along.

You don't.

"It's alright, just...could you stop walking over their meal? Please?" You gesture to the birds and don't meet his eyes; his gaze is piercing you through and through.

Somehow, you feel more naked than you ever felt talking to a fully suited person. And somehow, those eyes narrowing into what should be a calming expression just feels like a ruse.

"Oh," he whispers in sudden genuine surprise, stepping back from you and you exhale, not realising you played quite a good hand yourself here...his voice is still polite, but there is effort now. And something genuine you can't put your finger on.

"Once more – my apologies. You seem to care a great deal about the little ones."

You nod and finally look up again, now that there is some distance. What is it with suited people and shiny shoes that sends you so far off the cliff?

His eyes didn't change. They're pinned on you, studying you. Each time he discovers something seemingly new, you notice a small movement – not quite a tick, just a slight change of rhythm. His smile is smaller, still there. It slides into one corner of his mouth, as if biting back a particularly sharp jab. His hands are no longer clasped at his midsection, he's began fishing in his pocket.

You watch every move, trying not to look nervous as you tuck a strand of hair away from your eyes. It falls right back.

As he takes out a packet of cigarettes, sliding one into his mouth in a single motion and lighting it, never taking his eyes off you, you sense the same disquiet the smaller bird did as it hopped a distance away. The big one is nowhere to be seen.

The man pulls on the cigarette slowly and you avoid his eyes.

"Would you like to tell me your name, little one?"

You begin to stutter and gather your things to leave immediately, cheeks the colour of roses.

"Th--that's incredibly--"

The soft chuckle didn't escape your senses and you once more look up to tell him something not as polite.

"Oh, I'm so sorry miss, " he smiles into the smoke leaving his lips, fingers softly cradling the cigarette as he gazes down at you. He bends his knees, slowly closing the distance between you and finds your eyes. His voice is kind, soft, and almost patronising in its innocence now:

"I was talking to the bird."

Before you can answer and before the blush goes down, he simply leans on his heels and rests closer to the scene before him, taking another drag – careful not to cover your little companion in smoke.

"Look at you, pretty little thing, aren't you..." he rests his cheek in his free hand, head at the level of your knees, "such a sweet little dear unable to see what's right in front of you."

The bird cocked its head to the side, one blue eye watching the intrusion before it hopped between your ankles, either expecting bread or shelter, but the stranger didn't move.

Only smiled into his cigarette, a chuckle like honey off hot coals reverberating quietly. His eyes never leaving your feet.

"What a pretty little thing you are, running for refuge right into a larger beak."

You finally manage to speak.

"It's going to be alright, sir, just a bit shy. Jackdaws are terribly brave and equally as hot-headed. But not dumb. You're just scaring them a tad. The larger bird won't hurt it."

You smile the sweetest of smiles, not playing his tune, perhaps if you pretend to be dumb, he will lose interest and leave you alone. It worked for the birds.

But he leaves the birds and raises his eyebrows at you.

"Perhaps they're more clever than I thought, who wouldn't hide between..."

Suddenly, he gets up again in a quick, sharp movement as you hear steps coming closer. Steps and a voice from before.

"Please tell me you didn't."

Silence. The older man purses his lips and looks around nonchalantly.

"I didn't."

A young man with long brown hair and sharp features looks from him to you, and you must have looked a sight, because his voice is once more angry and his demeanour pointed.

"You apologised?" He extends an open-palmed hand at you, "you apologised and this happens?!"

"Rude," you mutter under your breath and get up to leave.

A hand in the air stops you without touching you.

"I did. We discussed birds. She's quite a lovely young lady who cares quite a bit. Top of her class, too. Or so I’ve heard. Hmm?"

Alright, who poured ice down your neck.

"No."

The young man looks at you again, then back to him.

"NO."

"I'm just saying, we could use a mediator..."

"We're leaving. I'm sorry miss. I'm so sorry." The young man turns on his heel, the older man left to gaze at his back.

He brushes his pockets and bends down to you.

"Lovely to meet you, miss Jackdaw. Sorry for the intrusion." He smiles, but there's no warmth to discern in there. He smiles at you like he knows you. Like he knows the next steps you will take, the next bird you'll feed, and the next time you will inadvertently meet.

"What's your name?" You ask, trying to level his eyes with yours, voice steady. You don't like the fact that he seems to either lie about knowing something about you or actually know a tad too much about you. You need ammunition.

The man widens his close-lipped smile.

"Call me Berlin."

"Really?"

"Mhhm. And what's your name, little miss Jackdaw?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh. He knew what he was doing. He knew it the entire time.

You try to keep a polite smile, not letting him get an inch in just yet. But your brain is a scramble.

"Manhattan."

He chuckles to himself more than to you, and gets ready to leave.

As he's walking away from you, he stops, taking one more drag seemingly lost in thought.

He looks back at you, and finally, you see a person behind those eyes.

And you freeze and burn all at once, understanding the birds running for shelter immediately.

"Clever," he hums into the air and begins to walk away.

❥❥❥

You were just supposed to fill in for a friend.

And now you're blindfolded.

And terrified.

And God knows you're going to kill her if you get out alive. Double kill her if you don't.

Stuck right next to a person who won't shut the god damn hell up. And now there are heavy footsteps marching towards you.

No no no no no.

"Excuse me...?" You hear the shaky male voice next to you, and it takes everything in you not to elbow the presence in where you expect his ribs to be.

"Yes, my director friend?"

That voice...

Oh no.

Oh no no no, you're imagining this, you're imagining this, you're imagining thi--

The shoes stop right in front of you.

For a moment, all that you can hear is your heart in your ears and your breath until a deep voice breaks the silence.

"Oh my."

A quiet, deep laughter emanates before you.

"My oh my oh my."

You try not to flinch as you feel a hand, rough, but not harsh, grip your chin and force you to look up.

It studies you. Brushes your chin and jaw without making it feel rude nor beckoning. Simply for a better look. Function. With a hint of amusement.

Control, you note.

For a moment, there is only silence.

Silence and your beating heart.

Then the chuckle resumes but cuts off, just as the hand leaves your face in one sharp stroke away.

"My dear little Manhattan, how did you manage to fly all the way over here?"

"Err...what?!" The confused voice next to you mumbles, but the steps are already walking away. Getting faster and more pronounced as they dull into the distance.

"Fuck," you whisper, shaking in your shoes. Cheeks red and chest shaking, unable to take a deeper breath.

"You know him?" A shoulder bumps into you and you feel the hot breath positively dampening your neck.

"No!" You hush back, "I don't! Be quiet."

"Are you one of them?" He doesn't shut up.

"No!" You hiss back, "Christ, be quiet!"

"That’s enough!" A younger female voice echoes from above. And you rest on your heels and stay still. Still as the eye of a bird.

Heavy steps resume and you finally get divided into groups.

❥❥❥

As you are able to discern faces now, you think perhaps you imagined the whole thing. The larger gentleman won't stop looking at you. Eyes like that of a lizard. Always darting.

You try to talk to some girls around you, just to make sure you're not all alone here.

But none of you have a clue what's going on.

You don't know whether to keep to yourself or join group for protection, but the matter gets decided for you.

You get divided into further groups, blindfolds on once more as you're guided to your stations. Only, a bit late, you realise you're being separated and led upstairs. A door closes behind you and hands grip each of your shoulders, pushing you forward. No touch without objective. Simple mechanics. Different than the hands you remember, and hate yourself for the realisation.

His hands are now familiar to you.

You think to explain, bargain, barter, but keep your mouth firmly shut.

Your blindfold gets taken off slowly and you're left looking at a young man, the same young man you remember from the park. He looks stern, but apologetic, until you notice the gun on his shoulder in sharp contrast to his red jumpsuit.

"Err...thought we'd keep the continents together." He says, as if nothing was too out of the ordinary, "just be here and watch over some screens for me. I'll explain later. OK? I promise this wasn't planned but we did discuss a need for a mediating presence if things go belly up. Is that alright...? I mean, shit, I meant...look, just do your job and shout at me if something looks weird."

You don't quite know how to absorb any of this and only look at the screens around you. Cameras, rooms, people, all of it before you.

"Continents...together?" You hush out finally, looking directly into the sharp face with hair in a firm bun.

He tries to smile, but it gets stuck and he grips the gun.

"Denver. Manhattan. I think they're kinda close."

You begin to smile as you lean across a desk, gripping its edges, the smile growing into a desperate laugh.

"I'm such an idiot," you breathe, "why don't you just shoot me? Why have me of all people watch over other people? I couldn’t tell you a single in-group out-group factor if I tried. I nearly got kicked out of my last exam because I was trying to be nice to people! My supervisor said my voice puts people to sleep! I can’t help you!"

"Huh?"

His genuine confusion, the scene, the fact that it all seemed like a bad misunderstanding just a week ago...it broke something in you. Your smile breaks too.

"Sorry, I just can't seem to stop fucking up. There. The park. Now this." Your voice cracks into tears, finally able to fall for sheer blind hopelessness.

"Hey, you didn't fuck up, not yet...he did, and it wasn't planned, I promise. I should have pushed him into the pond when I had the chance." The hint of softness gets to you further.

"But now, just watch those screens and shout for me if anything seems weird. I'm right here or around the corner. Oh. And you're being watched. Don't try anything funny, ok?"

You only give him a tired look and nod. The camera above you, you notice, keeps steady. A red light blinks at you.

One thing you notice on the screens that makes you calmer is the fact that you can see him. You can see him, so he's not anywhere near you.

"Denver?" Your own voice feels foreign in your throat.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you being kind to me?"

The question seems to have stopped him in his large shoes and you see his face visibly try to gain a stoic, uncaring expression.

"Some of us were taught manners," he shrugs, voice level. "And I thought I'd undo some of the damage Berlin--"

You visibly wince before he continues,

"Some of the damage you've had on top of this whole thing."

"Thank you, Denver." You try to smile. "That's very kind."

❥❥❥

You weren't sure what the deal was, what was going on, and why you weren't with the others. It was explained to you, over the next few days, that you are to simply watch and document, notice, write down, evaluate, and discern – keep files, try to predict, note everything. Be on call if something goes awry.

But it felt odd. You weren't special, that much you knew. You weren't treated like one of either sides – just somehow something that's barely not not-in-the-way. You didn't even have a jumpsuit.

Which would have been very handy since you managed to spill tea on your sleeve and burn your hand the first morning here.

Another thing that kept you alert was the camera. Each time you walked around the room, left the station, or simply rummaged through draws; the camera moved. Perhaps you were imagining it, but every time you walked by a reflective surface, the screens slightly buzzed. Just a flicker of movement in a corner monitor.

Once, you were pacing the room, and you felt slight panic rising in your chest – panic of missed lectures, friends, worried loved ones – and you undid your shirt. Just enough for your throat to be visible, which you held instinctively to shield the beating vein and to feel you’re still alive. Still breathing.

The screen behind you went black for just a moment, but you could have imagined that. Surely. It made no sense otherwise.

But you tried to reason. To turn bad things into bearable.

You liked the static. It felt calm. You liked the dark. It felt safe. You preferred the ground, less cameras and more field of your vision should someone come in.

But you didn't like the little red light all night, you didn't like the fact that each time you looked at the screen, he was there. And if he were near the camera, he'd look into it. Then go back to talking to someone else or simply back to his duties. But sometimes, he’d linger closer to it. Look up. And your breath caught again. Looking like he knew. But he couldn't. He couldn't. You’re being paranoid.

Until...

It was dusk. Your intercom had been eerily silent the last couple of hours, so you slowly slid to the floor and your makeshift bed made of clothes and some couch cushions you found, and slid under the table for extra privacy. As you waited and got not reply nor discontent, you began to take off your shirt and skirt. Just as you were going to unhook your bra, a voice sounded through the intercom and froze you in your tracks. You peaked out just enough to remain decent and quickly checked every screen – still dark, no commotion.

No him.

Silence.

Then Berlin’s voice sounded through the crackle. Soft, as it was with the birds, trying not to startle yet...

“Little Jackdaw...” you hear him murmur in the crackle of static. “Are you still awake?”

You do not respond. Merely go back under the desk and rest your back against its confines. The silence stretches but is anything but empty.

“I was wrong about you,” he muses.

You don’t reply, but huddle your knees closer.

“...I was wrong about the birds. You didn’t find your way here and they did know what they were doing. Hiding from me. Running to you. You must have known exactly what you’re flying into and still did not...skitter away. Little Jackdaw, little Jackdaw...is it true you sleep with one eye open?”

You breathe into the silence, your own voice feeling like trespassing. But still, you speak into the darkness.

“I didn’t want to come here. It was all a mistake. All of it. Unless you have something pressing, leave me alone, please.” Softer, far softer, you add: “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

His voice replies, faintly amused. But not bored.

“No one ever does.”

You exhale slowly, ever so slowly and feel...both more alone and oddly comforted – perhaps he wasn’t wearing a mask, perhaps he was being genuine. Perhaps he also had trouble sleeping. You immediately slapped the thought out of your head, knowing your mind is likely trying to grab onto anything to ground itself and find safety. But still, your voice is soft, your demeanour gentle.

“Berlin?”

Silence.

You half sleepily, half still caught in that calm oddness the conversation brought with the dusk, muse back at him.

“I feel like I’m playing a plywood violin each time you make yourself known.”

“Does feeling me threaten to break your strings, little one?”

You let the silence speak to his mistake.

"Or perhaps you wonder whether you'll bend or break for a tune that won't linger."

At least he didn't make the reference you thought he would at this hour and in what still counts as privacy.

But he does say one more thing that loops another little opening in your armour and stabs.

“One thing I have to give your critiques, Manhattan.”

The static chuckles with his quiet contentment.

“Your voice really does put me to sleep.”

You don’t know whether it’s a compliment or a very sharp jab, but you do not reply, and the intercom remains silent for the rest of the night. The realisation hit you in the morning – he’s listening even now.

And he’s...taking note.

❥❥❥

Another day, Denver was helping you learn the last of the ropes regarding your position. And you saw Berlin speak to someone off camera. Though you were listening, taking note, writing things down – your eyes strayed.

Just to make sure.

Just to be safe.

The angle, the lighting, it was too coincidental. And he turned slightly. Not looking at the camera, not looking at you. Just shifting, and his body language...it stilled.

“You really shouldn’t look at him like that,” you hear Denver behind you, “he’s not a big fan of being seen while not controlling the gaze.”

You inhale and apologise, only to yourself muttering that perhaps he shouldn’t have done what he did in the park – and then what he did while you were blindfolded – but you kept the night conversation to yourself.

“Perhaps he shouldn’t have stared like a wolf in a freshly cut suit, but I understand and won’t do it again. Sorry.”

As Denver was leaning next to you, half watching the screens and half watching your meticulous notes, he raised his brows in understanding and looked directly at you. No malice, not quite warmth. Just information and something you couldn’t quite understand just yet. Then he winced.

“He remembered you, Manhattan. That’s not a good thing. Berlin remembering someone is...kinda like corrosion deciding it wants your tools. Yours specifically.”

He said nothing more and you only flickered an eye to the screen, just to make sure he’s still in place.

Berlin smiled. Not at the person beside him.

At the camera.

❥❥❥

One of the female people in charge walked you down a hallway, guarded by each side, when a man walking in the opposite direction bumped into you.

You lost your balance momentarily and straightened, almost doing the exact same to the next person walking right behind him. You avoided the red suit only to look up and freeze even as you laid foot after foot.

"Clever girl."

The whisper echoed behind you, and you turned on instinct, never stopping. The man who bumped into you disappeared from your field of vision as he grabbed his shoulder and led him into a sharp turn.

You kept walking.

You found yourself in a room that looked far more intricate than your station. Maps, plans, all laid out.

They're either fine with killing you or they trust you, and you weren't sure you liked either option.

You tried to focus on the women present, and tried to find Denver, but he was talking to an older man. In another life, you’d find it quite endearing. They barely lifted their eyes as you got in, and the red-suited woman nudged you forward.

"Why isn't she in uniform?" The woman chewing gum asked, arms crossed, measuring you up and down. You wanted to wince. But didn’t. Only bowed your head slightly.

"Where the hell is Berlin? He called this whole thing." The younger man who you only just noticed huddled at a laptop asked no one in particular and went back to his screen.

"I'm sorry, I...didn't get a chance to change, no uniform, I didn't want to ask, sorry--"

"It's not on you, Manhattan," the woman chewing stopped and sighed. "Berlin said he'd take care of it. Where is he?"

Denver looked at the screen of the younger man and raised his eyebrows.

You don't react, but try to help: raising your arm everso slightly as if asking for permission to speak, you level your voice.

"I...saw him walking past us in the hallway and take a sharp turn right, if that's any use. He was leading someone else by the shoulder."

Denver exchanged a look with the older man, and the young woman who led you here gripped her gun and left without a word. Denver looks up at you, likely realising you're terrified.

"Manhattan, those folders of yours are proving useful."

More matter of factly, he adds: "We have a situation downstairs that's getting out of hand. Be ready. But so far, nine times out of ten, those evaluations and strategies seem to work at keeping people calm and covering our bases. Almost."

"Almost?" You speak up. The older man looks at you, studying you before speaking. Wary, but warm.

"Your notes on Group 3 were a bit shifty, half the reason for the situation. Name’s Moscow, by the way."

You smile and offer a handshake. The firmness of his calms you down a tad. But the softness is short lived, as the young man at the laptop shifts.

"What is she even doing here?" He gazes into the and monitor sighs, "she's not part of this, she's a hostage. What's she gonna do, fling some ink from the printers around and ask us to analyse a blot? Analyse how screwed up each of us are since we're all here?"

"Leave it alone, Rio," the man who introduced himself as ‘Moscow’ says, "it's alright."

He looks up at you and continues, slightly softer. "the man was unpredictable and pulled something again. Hard to expect. Feigned a situation, hurt another hostage, turns out it was a ruse. Well, the other two hostages pulled into it didn't know, and now they're not speaking or eating or reacting to anything but a gun in the face. Which we do not condone."

You look towards him, settling on remaining quiet but to the point.

"Which one was it, sir?"

You raise your brow, now intrigued and disappointed in yourself. You thought you had everyone covered. Every nook and cranny taken care of. Group 3 was volatile, but you thought they wouldn’t go through with it. Enough buffers to absorb the explosion. Obviously, you were wrong.

Before Moscow can answer, footsteps and a sharp push forward present the last two people missing. The young woman, who did the pushing. And Berlin, hair dishevelled and a blank look in his eyes to accompany a rather neutral frown.

As he notices you, he looks into your eyes and a smile lifts his cheeks, though he appears colder the harder he gazes, and looks away nonchalantly as if you weren't even there as soon as you register him back. You see him lift a hand to push through his hair and comb it back; you look straight back at your shoes.

"Finally, where the hell were---is that blood?" The woman with the cat eyes and gum stopped chewing, motioning at Berlin's arm. You follow her manicured fingers. She was right. His knuckles were blue and speckled with red, purple between the bones. He clenches and undoes his fist, as if theatrically studying it for the first time.

"Just a situation." He blinks at each face except yours. "All good."

“We talked about your ‘situations’, Berlin. You’re supposed to be in control. Isn’t that like your whole thing? I swear if you hurt another hostage...”

You never thought you’d hear a man growl, but that’s what came out of Berlin’s throat. Low, annoyed, clearly offended – but eerily level.

“I only taught someone some manners regarding what they can and cannot touch. Now, if we’re done with the schoolboy scolding, have you told her yet?”

The woman chewing gum shakes her head and looks away. Moscow sighs, Denver rubs his temples, the young man addressed as ‘Rio’ finally stops staring into the screen and leans back in his chair with a vaguely smug look, and the young woman behind Berlin looks directly at you with not an emotion in sight. Before she can speak, a self-satisfied chuckle tumbles out of Berlin’s throat.

He walks toward you slowly and begins to lift an arm to your shoulder, but you flinch in the direction of the older man and Denver. He doesn’t seem to notice at first, and if he did, he ignored it. This time. His dark eyes find yours and stare into you, head craning from one side to the other to leave no room for avoidance.

“Perfect. Then I'll do the honours. Well, Manhattan, we need you on the inside.”

“No one will trust me,” you unnoticeably shift away from him so his arm is resting on air more than you, and he notices. Oh, that small tick and tiny head motion from side to side, like a disappointed parent watching a child run into traffic. He rescinds his touch entirely, blinking slowly into the distance behind you with that small, ever-present smile in the corner of his mouth that looks like it feeds on tension and contentment all at once. Only now, it's turned into a rather disapproving mask.

“No one will trust me,” you repeat, “I don’t have a uniform, I haven’t been in any group, and I’m an outsider to them. There’s no way in hell they’ll say a word if I walk in.”

The cat-eyed woman purses her lips and nods, Denver keeps his hand on his chin, and Berlin somehow looks more smug than before. Moscow clears his throat.

“Yeah, about that. Nairobi, can you handle it? I need to speak with Berlin on some security matters.”

He looks directly at the man next to you.

“Outside.”

❥❥❥

“Please no. I understand, it’s a good idea, but please let me say this without any judgement.”

Nairobi sighs.

“Go on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Look, lady, I get it. I really do. But there’s no other way right now and like it or not, he’s still in charge.” She looks to her side, arms crossed. “Emphasis on ‘not’.”

“I’m grateful for being treated the way I am, I understand it’s not easy---”

“Please save the holier-than-thou attitude, Manhattan, I’m not your client.”

She looks at you, judgement seeping from her posture before continuing:

“The others have assigned groups, Oslo and Helsinki need to be underground, Moscow wouldn’t be able to handle the commotion if more people turned up, Rio’s in charge of every electronic device in here, Denver – though I see you making eyes at him – doesn’t feel up to it alone either and doesn’t need any more violence today, thanks to you, and Tokyo and I need to be elsewhere and actually do our jobs.”

The gum pops in emphasis.

You stop and your mouth doesn’t utter another word, though you wish to protest at least three statements in that sentence.

Only a small bow and a ‘sorry’ as you nod in acceptance. She looks you over again and her shoulders visibly fall as she relaxes and sighs, leaning against the railing.

“No, I’m...look, he’s been acting weird. If you ask me, something’s bothering him and he’s like a child who can’t find the last puzzle piece that ruins everyone’s day until he does.” She leans into you, gaze still sharp, but not angry.

“Let him have his puzzle piece, his little plan, all works out, he leaves you alone. Boom. Jackpot.”

You’re not sure you agree with any of that, but feel you have no choice.

“Will the cameras be on at least?” You ask, weary. Nairobi nods and blows a bubble.

You feel the sound of it bursting coincide with your sense of hope.

❥❥❥

This was the most idiotic plan you could imagine.

But it made sense.

That was the worst part.

So far, you thought you'd enjoy the calm before the storm. You made more notes, added new information and rewrote Group 3. As you were writing down strategies to employ to help the two shocked hostages - one boy and one girl - the door clicked open.

"Denver?"

You didn't look up. Blind hope got you this far, you weren't letting anyone pry it out of your cold dead hands.

No reply, only steps closer.

A weight on the back of your chair which creaked in response.

You wince, exhale softly as if worried to disturb the air, and stop writing. You check the cameras one by one, darting, hoping you'd see Berlin in one of them. The sound of leather squeezed far too hard for comfort replied for you.

"Try again," the whisper to your right beckoned, and you turned sharply in the other direction.

"P...please excuse me. You. Scared me."

"Perhaps try not lying to me, Manhattan. Lie to yourself if you must. But not to me."

"I'm not...I'm not lying to you. Sir. I don't know what you're talking about." But your voice betrayed you more than your grip on the pen that shook your fingers.

And the hand suddenly everso slightly touching your hair was enough to make you gasp.

Berlin chuckled and pulled away.

"You've neglected yourself, little Jackdaw...let me help you get it out of your face."

"I'm good, Berlin, sir."

He chuckled again and rested his weight on the back of your chair. You must be imagining the faint whisper back, mostly to himself - tasting the word. Sir.

"Oh, I know you are. But you seem to have some trouble looking at me. Still blindfolded in that little head of yours?"

"I'm good. Berlin. Sorry. I. Didn't mean to be so..."

He almost sounded like he didn't hear you and the cold nonchalance in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

A single finger helped brush a strand of hair off your collarbone and onto your back, neatly, carefully, never straying.

"Tell me to stop."

He leans into you; you can feel his breath on your ear but still - he doesn't touch you directly. Your heart is in your throat.

"Do you know what I'd do if you asked me to stop?"

You hear him smile as the sentence concludes, and you squeeze your knuckles on thin air. Your heart is now pounding out of your chest, and you try desperately not to look at the screen in front of you because his reflection would drive you off a cliff.

But you don't reply. Only swallow hard.

"I'd stop," he states, pulling away as if he commented on the weather and nothing more.

"But I'd never forget that you wanted to say 'yes'."

As if mulling over the thought while you're left paralysed and shivering, not looking at him, not responding, the coolness returns to his voice. But there's a hint of enjoyment in it now. Like he managed to pry open a door just enough to get a finger in.

"Put it this way, Manhattan...if you don't turn around, I'll make sure you're suited up one way or another. Which will it be, little Jackdaw?"

You exhale and push the pen away.

And you do turn around. Slowly, in your chair. You turn around and your eyes get snatched by that stern, ever watchful face, fully controlled but for the smile constantly tugging at his mouth. Self-satisfied. Lethal. And so, so false.

A bob of the head and an expression that seems to say 'there, was it so hard?' to which you'd gladly reply positively.

He's bending above you, fully shielding, resting on the back of your chair with one hand gripping its leather, the other at his side holding a red bundle.

"Go on. Take a good look. You're allowed."

"I'm..."

"Good," he finishes the sentence for you and turns his eyes into momentary coinslots, almost mocking you.

"Though I'm starting to doubt that."

You look at the camera above you. Somehow, its red light is now the most reassuring presence in the room.

He follows your gaze.

"You talk in your sleep, Manhattan."

You don't reply.

"Quite the conversation. Do you know what you said when I responded?"

You shake your head and hypnotize your notes again, seeing the same letter for the fourth time.

"Yes, little Jackdaw. You said 'yes'."

"To what?" You can't bear the tension and almost snap. Berlin merely drops the bundle in your lap, still smiling to himself.

"Get dressed."

❥❥❥

At least he left the room for you to do so. Though you struggled with the zipper with your shaking fingers, the question plaguing your mind.

What had you agreed to in your sleep?

Could he see you, if he could hear you?

As you pulled it up and gathered your hair out of your collar, you gazed at the room again. And fear began to creep up on you, even as it should have been calming to be alone again.

What if the plan goes wrong? What if you...mess up? What if they do? What if you get hurt? He won't protect you...you're an asset, not cared for.

You're an asset.

Not cared for.

With resolution and coolness in your voice, you address the room.

"Clear."

You don't say "decent" because you don't want him to latch onto anything you're saying and use it as ammunition. Berlin seems too good at that.

The door clicks open, and Berlin walks back in, two strides to be right in front of you. Measuring you up and down.

"Good, Manhattan. You did good."

As if wondering whether to tease you or remain stoic, he brings up his arm again - the same gesture you avoided in the more crowded room. This time, you don't flinch. You won't give him the satisfaction. Only nod - giving permission.

Still in control.

His hand brushes your collar and softly tugs at the top of the jumpsuit.

"You look better this way, Manhattan. Out of uniform."

You see it in the way his face is more...animated now, and this time he isn't trying to catch your gaze. As if lost in thought. His finger gets a bit too close and his knuckle brushes that tender spot on your throat you were holding the last time you felt so paranoid.

You inhale sharply, but he doesn't pull away. The cheshire grin growing more serious seems to repeat his sentence:

Tell me to stop.

And you don't.

He caresses it, softly, up and down, as if worried he'll disturb the precious thing. His knuckle guides up to your chin and lifts your head up to his.

"I'm almost sorry for what I'll have to do to you, little Jackdaw."

His lips curl.

"Almost."

You exhale.

No, you're not.

You came up with this.

You're going to enjoy it.

And I hate you for it. And I hate myself for not wanting to say...stop.

But he seems to feed on that. On planning ahead, being in control, making people submit without knowing they did so - teetering on the edge and only noticing air grow fast around their face once they're about to hit the bottom.

It takes every muscle from your shoulders to your neck to keep calm, to not look into those eyes, to not give into your actual feelings that are spurred by fear and desperation and...need.

The jumpsuit feels suffocating.

Break for a tune that won't linger.

With sincere tenderness and genuine worry, you instead simply ask:

"Is Denver alright?"

And you might as well have slapped Berlin across his smooth face.

Without changing his expression, he mouths the sentence back to you, as if in disbelief that you'd ever even think of asking.

“Is…”

He steps into you, you step back.

“Denver…”

He forces his other leg into your space; your thigh hits the table.

“Alright…?”

You instinctively try to grab the edge, but he grabs your wrist first and pushes your hand down. Before you can retract it, he grabs your other wrist and pins it to the table.

And as he leans into you, to your side, lips almost touching your ear, you feel him.

His chest.

His leg.

His breath.

Even his heartbeat through his neck.

And they're all.

So.

Steady.

He's not losing control.

Now you've got a reason to be terrified.

"My little Jackdaw," he whispers to you, as if reading you a fairytale, "do you really think it wise to tease someone who is going to have you tied up at his mercy for the better part of the night, while knowing every little corner of this room that the cameras don't reach?"

Berlin pulls away and leans into you directly now, so close your foreheads could touch.

"Or was it on purpose, because that's what you want?"

He cranes his head to one side, exaggerating his words while his expressions remain frozen. You remember the same instinct that made you wince, that made you see what the birds did when they ran for shelter to you.

"To be broken, taken, bent and tried - so you don't have to witness your own carnage...To lose control. Silly, silly, silly Jackdaw."

He gazes at your neck, throat, quivering lips as if pondering to himself – and only smirks as he straightens your collar again, brushing a strand of hair away from your neck.

Berlin’s fingers twitch and make contact with your skin again.

"Because once you give it to me, I won't be able to stop."

❥❥❥

[lokischocolatefountain]

Upcoming Oneshot Sneak peek

Pairing: Berlin (Song Jung-ho) x Reader

Fandom: Money Heist: Korea Joint Economic Area

“Do you want to go for a walk, baby? It’s a full moon night and it’s a beautiful island.”

She smiled up at me, looking at me with so much love and kindness that I could have melted into her arms. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, getting up and opening the door to our room. We put on our coats, I slipped a gun and a camera into my pockets and we left, hand in hand like a real couple. We were a real couple.

“A moonlight stroll… with a dangerous and dashing man…. In a rural area…. Nothing more romantic than this.”

“I’m dashing?” I asked, grinning as I etched her compliments into my memory.

“Now you’re just fetching for compliments.”

I laughed and looked away to hide my guilt. It was somehow hard for me to hide my emotions from her. Everything she made me feel showed up on my face. We walked together, holding hands and brushing against each other, talking all kinds of nonsense. Her features shone under the light of the moon and took me to a dreamland where I would have this every night of my life. All this freedom I had after escaping the concentration camp, escaping the law, I wanted to use up traveling the world with her. I wanted to walk the roads of Amsterdam, Cairo, Dubai, Toronto and more with her. I would take her to every part of the world, open her world up like she opened mine from the confines of her classroom.

I would also build a home with her. She would make a lot of choices, of course. I wasn’t the most experienced in living in a home. The first time I invited her to my bachelor pad, she was appalled at my choice of storage— a giant cardboard box where I stored everything from my clothes to my groceries. In an attempt to spend more time with her, I innocently asked her to go furniture shopping with me. I did not care about the furniture and had no idea how to choose them but spent good money buying them just to spend a day with her outside the classroom.