#mafia!soap

What would you say? Would everything go as planned, or would it be awkward? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but there was no turning back now.

You ran your fingers through your hair, once again contemplating how to style it. The evening was important, and you wanted to feel ready, to look your best. You glanced at the clock—time was running out.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. There were so many things you wanted to say, so much you hoped would happen, but it all seemed too overwhelming at once.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and you froze.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was it him? Was it time?

You quickly made your way to the door, every step deliberate, every breath sharp with anticipation. When you opened it, you were met with a smile—a warm, familiar face..

There König, the mafia boss with a reputation that spanned the city’s darkest corners and its highest towers, stood at the door. His presence commanded attention without a single word spoken.

He wore a deep navy suit—almost black in its richness—crafted from a luxurious wool and silk blend. The suit’s understated elegance spoke of power, the kind only those who truly understood wealth could appreciate. It fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. His trousers were sharply cut, breaking just above polished black shoes. The jacket was impeccably tailored, the lapels wide but not exaggerated. Satin accents caught the light as he moved, adding a quiet sheen to his commanding presence. His tie, a dark navy silk, was simple yet perfectly tied, and his crisp white shirt stood out sharply against the dark suit.

For a moment, you wondered if you were underdressed. But as your gaze met his, everything else faded into the background.

König, still wearing his signature mask, reached out and presented you with a bouquet—a stunning mix of red roses, lilies, baby’s breath, sunflowers, and delicate filler greens. The bouquet was as carefully curated as his entire appearance—elegant, bold, and striking.

“Guten Abend, Hase." I hope you like the flowers I picked out,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you took the bouquet. The vibrant colors and delicate petals were perfect, and it made your heart flutter. You brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with appreciation. “Thank you, König.”

As you stepped aside to let him in, your heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, but in a way that made you feel safe, protected. The evening was just beginning, and you had no idea what it would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt certain that whatever happened next, you were ready.

You held König’s hand as he drove you to Diamond Petals, a high-end restaurant nestled on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town. The drive felt surreal, with every turn and mile heightening your anticipation. As the car approached the restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. The place was more breathtaking than you had imagined.

Floral plants cascaded over the exterior, their vibrant colors glowing against the soft, ambient lighting. The building itself was a masterpiece, the marble and stone walls catching the light in a way that made the entire place seem otherworldly. It felt as though you were about to step into a dream, where beauty and elegance existed at every corner.

The soft hum of music could be heard from inside, and as you entered, the first thing that struck you was the dance floor at the center of the space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the twinkling lights above. It was the perfect setting for an evening filled with romance and charm.

As König pulled the car to a stop, he turned to you with a warm, almost teasing smile. “Ready, Liebling?”

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, where the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of the music from within. It was a perfect evening in the making

The moment you moved toward the entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the crowd. Whispers and curious glances followed you, some filled with intrigue, others tinged with disdain. The people around you were all too aware of König's rare presence, and perhaps even more curious about the person accompanying him tonight.

You blushed, instinctively shrinking into the shadow of König’s towering figure. His presence was enough to shield you, but you could feel the weight of the stares, the curiosity of those around you. It was clear that König was a figure few dared to approach, yet here he was, walking confidently at your side, unbothered by the attention.

The whispers quieted when König shot a cold, sharp glare in their direction. He leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur that only you could hear, “Don’t worry, Hase. They’re just jealous of me having someone so lovely by my side.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and the weight of the stares seemed to fade. His reassurance was enough to ease your nerves, and you stood taller, walking with him toward your table. The faint buzz of murmurs continued behind you, but all that mattered in that moment was the quiet strength and assurance that König exuded, and the way he made you feel—protected, cherished, and entirely his.

When you reached the table, König gently pulled out the chair for you, his actions so graceful and deliberate that you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only person in the room. His care and attention were impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, König,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “This is lovely.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he sat across from you. “Anything for you, Hase. That being said, order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth in his words making your heart flutter. Just as the moment settled, a waiter approached, ready to take your orders. You looked up, meeting König’s gaze before turning to the menu.

“I think I’ll have the steak,” you said, smiling as you felt a rush of excitement at being treated so thoughtfully.

König raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “And what else, Hase? Do you want anything sweet… like you afterwards?”

You burned red at the comment, pausing for a moment before you added, “Maybe the chocolate mousse for dessert?”

The waiter jotted down your choices before turning to König, whose deep, steady voice carried authority as he placed his order. With a courteous nod, the waiter excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet intimacy of your table.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

König leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, warm and unyielding. “But I want to,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I want this night to be perfect for you, Liebling. Because I hope you’ll enjoy having me around… next time, and the time after that.”

He leaned forward, resting his large hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made your heart race. His eyes flickered with a nervous energy, his thumb brushing softly against the top of your hand in a calming rhythm, though you suspected it was more for him than for you.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and unusually vulnerable, “I was terrified when I decided to pursue you. You’re… an angel compared to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprise evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, though his eyes held a shadow of seriousness. “You know what I am, Hase. A mobster.” His gaze dropped momentarily to the table, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps more of a monster than a mobster.” He exhaled heavily, then looked up at you again, his gaze searching. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you’ll still want this, want me, even knowing the dangers that come with it.”

He broke eye contact again, his gaze falling to where his hand rested over yours, as if bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart. For a man so strong and imposing, seeing him wrestle with his own insecurities was almost overwhelming.

“König…” you said softly, reaching across the table to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Regardless of the danger, I want this. I want us, because I feel the same way.” You smiled tenderly, your voice steady with conviction. “I love you, König. These feelings… they consume me. You’ve given me a place to feel safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw it made your chest tighten.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “But I’m so glad I did.”

Before he could say anything more, a voice sliced through the air like a blade—smooth, deliberate, and unwelcome.

“Don König, I didn’t know you had such a beautiful woman at your side.”

König’s warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. His eyes, once alive with affection, turned icy and detached. He knew that voice.

Don Shepard.

König’s jaw clenched as he slowly stood, his imposing frame radiating a quiet threat. Despite his clear disdain, he forced a tight, polite smile, walking toward the older man with a calculated ease that spoke of years of practice in dealing with people like him.

“Don Shepard,” König said, his tone measured but laced with an unmistakable tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he had stirred. “Ah, I have a knack for being where I’m least expected,” Shepard quipped, his gaze shifting briefly to you. His eyes lingered just a second too long before König subtly shifted to block his view, his posture protective. “But I must say, König, you’ve outdone yourself. A woman like her? Quite the catch.”

König’s expression remained calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Shepard,” he said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

But Don Shepard wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh, but it is my business. You’re playing in dangerous waters, König, bringing someone like her into our world.”

König’s smile was razor-thin, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m sure I don’t need you to remind me of the risks,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner to enjoy.”

There was a moment of unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills, before Shepard finally raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something darker. “Just don’t forget, König—our world doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

König barely acknowledged the veiled threat, giving Shepard a curt nod before turning his back on him and returning to you.

As he sat down, his features softened once again, though a trace of tension lingered in his jaw. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “He’s… difficult.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

König’s gaze softened at your words, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, his tone resolute. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

König’s words hung in the air, a quiet promise wrapped in steel. His hand over yours was firm, steadying you in the aftermath of the brief but tense exchange. His gaze softened, a stark contrast to the cold, commanding presence he had wielded just moments ago with Don Shepard.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, König.”

His expression shifted, relief flickering in his eyes as his thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Liebling,” he murmured. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

After the warm moment, the waiter arrived quietly, placing your dishes in front of you with practiced precision before retreating with a polite nod. The aroma of your steak and König’s carefully chosen entrée filled the space between you, but neither of you moved to eat right away.

König cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “I hope the food tastes as good as this evening feels.”

You chuckled softly, picking up your fork. “If it’s half as good as your company, I think we’re in for a treat.”

König chuckled too, the low rumble of his laugh warming you from the inside out. It was rare to see him so relaxed, so at ease.

As you both began to eat, the tension from Don Shepard’s interruption faded, replaced by lighthearted conversation. König told you small, guarded anecdotes about his life—safe stories that made you laugh or widened your eyes in fascination. In return, you shared moments from your own life, noticing the way he listened so intently, as if every word you said mattered.

The dinner unfolded like a dream, a blend of laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional touch of his hand brushing against yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, König allowed himself to hope—for a future, for something brighter, for you.

And as the evening progressed, you realized you weren’t just sitting across from a mobster or even the enigmatic König. You were sitting across from the man who had stolen your heart, and for the first time, you felt certain that you’d found something rare and unbreakable.

However there was someone watching beside Don Sherpard from the corner of his eye, Ghost sat down next to Consigliere Price while listening to Don's ideas. He was feared when the Don spoked to König, all he wanted was to keep you safe but it was too late. 

“Ghost? What do you think about capturing the west harbors?” Price asked him to clear his throat as the Don noticed where he was glimpsing at. He smirked devilishly with a plan in his head. 

However, there was someone else watching the interaction from the shadows—beside Don Shepard, seated at a nearby table, was Ghost. Silent and observant, he sat next to Consigliere Price, his imposing figure blending into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. While Price listened intently to Don Shepard's ideas, Ghost's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked toward König, and then to you.

He felt a pit of unease settle in his stomach when Don Shepard engaged König. He knew the man’s reputation all too well. Whatever Shepard was planning, it was never good. Ghost clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming to act, but he knew it was already too late to intervene.

“Ghost?” Price’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. “What’s your take on securing the west harbors? Think it’s worth the resources?”

Ghost cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “It’s a strong move,” he replied curtly, though his gaze flicked back toward König and Don Shepard for a brief second.

Price noticed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Don Shepard, however, caught the brief glimpse and smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as if a new idea had just sparked in his mind. Whatever he had planned, it was clear that König—and now you—were a piece of his next move.

“She’s pretty—like an angel out of heaven, isn’t she?” Don Shepard’s voice dripped with venomous sweetness as he leaned slightly toward Ghost. His cold gaze locked onto Ghost’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, like a predator cornering its prey. “It would be... horrible... don’t you think? If someone were to use her as bait. Especially if it was someone she trusted. Imagine her being sent back to heaven earlier than expected…” He let the words hang in the air, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist under the table as rage burned through him. His usual mask of stoicism wavered, a flicker of helplessness crossing his features. He hated how powerless he felt at that moment. To disobey Don Shepard was to invite chaos and bloodshed—not just for himself, but for those he cared about. Soap, Roach, and now you—all of you were in more danger than ever before.

Before Ghost could respond, Price interjected, his voice firm and composed, though there was an edge of warning in his tone. “Don, we shouldn’t involve the innocent. That woman has saved countless men, multiple times. She’s earned her place and respect.”

Don hummed, leaning back in his chair as if Price’s words were nothing more than idle noise. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before chuckling darkly. “I suppose... heaven can wait, then. For now. But the devil,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward König, “still needs to be put in his place.”

Ghost’s grip on the edge of the table tightened. He didn’t flinch under Don’s gaze, but his blood ran cold. The implications of Shepard’s words were clear. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The Don’s smile returned, almost cheerful now, as if the prior tension hadn’t happened. “Forget the dance, Ghost,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s enjoy the night, hmm? And refocus on what matters—expanding your ‘supple’ house.”

Ghost gave a curt nod, his body still rigid with suppressed frustration. But his mind was already working. He would find a way to keep you safe, even if it meant going against Shepard in the shadows. He glanced briefly at Price, who gave him a subtle, knowing look.

The night had taken a darker turn, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever game Don Shepard was playing, Ghost knew one thing for certain—he needed to stay one step ahead if he was going to protect everyone who mattered to him.

König held the door open for you as you stepped out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted you, carrying the faint hum of music and chatter from inside. You had hoped to dance with him on the floor earlier, to share an intimate moment swaying together under the soft glow of the chandeliers. But as the crowd thickened, you noticed how König’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor.

Though he insisted he was fine, you could see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. It was enough for you to decide—leaving was the better choice. You didn’t want him to endure any more discomfort, not when tonight was meant to be perfect for both of you.

As you waited by the curb, Vault, König’s trusted driver, brought his car to the front. König moved with his usual grace, opening the passenger door for you. His towering frame shielded you from the outside noise as he gently motioned for you to step in.

Once you were settled into the seat, König closed the door with care, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as though he wanted to be certain you were comfortable. The way his gaze softened before he stepped away made your heart flutter. Without a word, he circled to the driver’s side, his movements calm and deliberate, though you could sense the tension lingering beneath his composed exterior.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, König exhaled a deep sigh, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment before he turned to you. “Thank you, Hase… I know you wanted to dance, and I’m sorry we weren’t able to.” His voice was low, edged with guilt.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, offering him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, love. I understand.”

At your words, König froze, his hands momentarily still on the wheel as his eyes widened. His reaction caught you off guard.

“König? What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head to study him.

He blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze. “N-nothing,” he stammered, gripping the wheel again as he started the car. “I wasn’t expecting… that you’d call me ‘love.’”

A shy smile tugged at your lips as his voice trailed off. You could see how much the small term of endearment had affected him, and it warmed your heart.

Clearing his throat, he added hesitantly, “If… if you’re okay with it, I want to take you somewhere special to me. Somewhere we can be alone.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned back in your seat, your heart already full from his sincerity. “Sure, love,” you replied, the term slipping from your lips as naturally as breathing.

He glanced at you briefly, his blush deepening, but the way his lips curled into a small, bashful smile told you how much the word meant to him. The rest of the drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet excitement that lingered between you both. Thought raced

When you arrived at your destination, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—a sprawling sea of shimmering city lights stretching across the horizon, their vibrant colors twinkling against the stark contrast of the pristine white snow that blanketed the landscape.

You stepped out of the car, the crisp night air biting gently at your skin as you gazed in awe. The view was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a painting brought to life. You’d never been this far from the city before, and seeing it from such a distance, framed by the quiet beauty of nature, left you speechless.

“König…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to him.

He stood by the car, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his tall frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the distant cityscape. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s… magical.”

König took a step closer, his presence grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty of the view. “I used to come here when I needed to think or be alone,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But tonight, I wanted to share it with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

König’s lips curved into a soft smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. His gaze was tender, filled with an affection that seemed to melt the chilly air around you. “You make it perfect, Liebling,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying the warmth of his feelings.

Without another word, he shifted closer, his large hands carefully guiding you. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into him, while he placed your hand on his broad shoulder, keeping the other clasped in his own. He began to hum a low, soothing tune as he swayed with you, his movements slow and unhurried.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. His towering frame felt safe and steady, his hum vibrating through your chest like a comforting lullaby. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you beneath the vast expanse of the stars.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. His scent—clean and woodsy, with a hint of something uniquely him—surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

König’s hum deepened, the melody matching the quiet intimacy of the moment. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against the top of your head. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and his gentle hum.

In that moment, there was no danger, no worries—only the two of you, swaying together beneath the stars in a dance that felt as though it was meant to last forever. But then, a selfish thought slipped into your mind, one you couldn’t ignore.

“König,” you began softly, your voice hesitant as your fingers tightened slightly around him. “Can I ask you something… something kinda selfish?”

He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed down at you. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “When have you ever been selfish, Liebling? Go on, ask me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before finally speaking, your tone serious. “I… I want to see your face.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

König stilled for a moment, his large hand cupping your cheek as he gently tilted your face up to meet his. His expression softened, a tender warmth in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not stupid.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek as he let out a soft sigh. “I understand why you’d want to know what your partner looks like… You deserve that much.” He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and intimate as he added, “Let’s go to the car. I’ll show you there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart fluttering as he gently took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle, an unspoken promise lingering in the air between you.

As you slid into the back seat, König carefully closed the door behind him, his sharp eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching. The air between you felt thick with anticipation, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. You sat patiently, nervously toying with the ends of your hair, the gesture doing little to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when König gently lifted you onto his lap, settling you so you were facing him. His massive hands, warm and reassuring, gripped your hips as his forehead rested lightly against yours. The steady rise and fall of his chest brushed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

His eyes, deep and piercing, locked onto yours, scanning your face with a quiet reverence. His arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs tracing slow, nervous circles along your sides.

“König?” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a quiver of vulnerability in his tone as he continued, “I’m just... nervous. Nervous about how you’ll react to my face, Hase.” The rare fragility in his voice tugged at your heart.

You smiled warmly, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers grazing the fabric of his mask. “König,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I would love you no matter what you look like. The man I fell for isn’t just a face. He’s the one who holds me like I’m made of glass, even though I’m not. He’s the one who protects me, who cares for me so deeply it leaves me breathless.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over his masked cheek as you asked softly, “Ready?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes, Hase,” he murmured. “Only for you.”

As you slid his mask off with trembling fingers, your movements slow and deliberate, you gave König every chance to stop you. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on yours, steady yet vulnerable, as if baring his soul alongside his face.

When the fabric slipped away, your breath hitched. Your eyes widened, taking in the striking details of the man before you. His chiseled features, framed by a rugged jawline, were marred only by scars that seemed to tell stories of strength and survival. You found yourself captivated by his piercing blue eyes, which studied your reaction with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tracing the faint scar along his cheek with delicate fingers, marveling at the softness of his skin. He didn’t flinch; instead, his eyes softened under your touch. Your thumb moved to the prominent scar running across the bridge of his nose, your heart aching as you wondered what battles had left their mark on him. Finally, your hand rested on the small scar that kissed the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you brushed your thumb gently against the edge of his lips before leaning in, your lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. It was tender, almost shy, as if you were both learning to navigate this uncharted intimacy together.

König let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his hands exploring your clothed waist and back, his touch warm and deliberate. You let out a soft moan against his lips from his warm touch. But as much as he didn’t want to lose himself in the moment, he knew his restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Hase,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “Ich liebe dich.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich will dich.”

The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine, your attention fully claimed by the man holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Your breaths grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his as the air between you seemed to thrum with a charged intensity. The world outside the car melted away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate, all-consuming moment.

Leaning in closer, you whispered into his ear, your voice soft but laced with desire, “Ich will dich, mein Bärchen… Küss mich.”

The words sent a visible shudder through König’s massive frame. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his eyes darkening as he gazed at you, captivated. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if savoring the moment and letting your words settle deep into his soul. Then, with a growl low in his throat, he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was fiery, passionate, and all-encompassing, his lips moving against yours with both hunger and reverence. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The distant glow of the city lights painted the car’s interior in faint hues, casting the scene in a romantic glow as the two of you surrendered to the moment.

König’s kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if he was pouring every ounce of his love and desire into them. His hands explored the curves of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, making you feel like you were the center of his universe.

“Mein Hase,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, his voice thick with emotion and want. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The night stretched on, the cool glass of the car windows fogging up from the heat radiating between you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only König, only you, and the unspoken promise of a love that would burn brighter than any star in the night sky.

Part 1: Save by a Hare

tears burn your eyes. you didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you’re scared. where there was uncertainty, where there was just nerves, just waiting for this night to be over so you can go home and sleep and forget about it. now there was fear. gripping your throat. seeping into your blood, your bones.

“just do whatever he wants and everything will be okay.” Eric cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispers, “i love you. i love you so much.”

he kisses you before you can get a protest past your lips. it's the only moment of peace you're going to get.

“ye have ten seconds tae get out… unless ye want tae watch.” Eric pulls away all too quickly, his hands slipping from yours before you can tell yourself to hold on just a little bit longer.

your breathing becomes shallow as you watch your husband back away from you. he’s leaving you? with him?

“oh, and Eric?” you look back at Soap. his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. you’re more taken aback when you realize his shirt is wide open. revealing the wide expanse of his chest, littered with dark hair all over and a small silver crucifix hanging from his neck. “lock the door behind ye.”

you’re startled by the sound of the door closing. and sure enough, your husband is gone. the door clicks. sealing your fate.

all too quickly, as you stare at the door knob with tears blinding your eyes, a wall of warmth suddenly makes itself present behind you. you flinch when his hands slowly grip your arms and slide down to your wrists and finally close around your hands.

“what’s happening?” you whisper more to yourself than him as he presses himself against your back.

he’s caught his prey between his jaws. one little bunny, frightened and trembling. heart thundering in her ears as the wolf takes his time savouring his meal, salivating at the mouth.

You paused, standing straight. Your hand finding your hips. “You’re a chatterbox all of the sudden.”

With the faintest shrug, he replied, “I talk when it’s needed,” again voice flat. You could never tell if he was lying, joking, or being nice.

He said nothing more, planting himself against the wall. Though he was intimidating, he wasn’t prying. You stared at each other a beat too long. Then, without a word, you moved to lean beside him. Your heart had slowed and breathing also. 

“Are you keeping tabs? Do you have a tracker on me?” you asked again. He really chose the questions he wanted to answer. His presence was heavy but comforting, as if you could breath without being attacked. You closed your eyes.

For the first time this week, you had quiet. Even with the pumping bass from the club and the chatter of clients walking in and out, it wasn’t your empty apartment, with just your thoughts. The buzz of the alcohol also helped.

Coco said they were always around, but besides the club, you never saw them. Except for that time with Kyle of course.

Or maybe they did, what you learned that day was that they were fishing for information and would go to great length to get them.

It was a game to them, wasn’t it?

Would they give up after they found out? The mystery was the only interesting thing about you, you knew how to use your appeal, and were book smart, but that would eventually lose its charm, and be redundant? 

You turned to look at Ghost. Would he go running inside and tell them as soon as he found out?

Leaving you outside with your heavy thoughts and fear, you inhaled deeply. Taking a moment before you would stumble again. You shifted on your feet, pulse drumming in your ear. Your lips parted hesitantly and then you said it.

Your name.

The thing you had been keeping secret. The only thing they were after. Their little game was over now. 

Your eyes didn’t leave his face. Looking, searching for something—anything: a twitch of his brow, a shift in his eyes. Leave now, go tell them. Do something.

He must have felt your stare because he turned to look at you. But he showed nothing—not even a glint in his black-covered eyes.

“Nothing?” you quipped. “Really? You guys have been tormenting me for days, and when I finally give my name…you say nothing.”

He crossed his arms, you saw the lightest crinkle on the side of his eyes. Was it amusement? “Hardly a state secret, is it?” he said with a faint shrug.

You stared at him, pulling yourself from the wall. What the fuck does that mean?

“You left your purse unattended numerous times,” he said simply. “You’re distracted and getting sloppy.”

You fell silent. He was the one now studying you. You felt it as it bubbled in your chest and slowly rose to your throat and to your lips. You bit them—to no avail.

The laugh exploded out of you, sharp and loud, breaking through the weight on your chest. You held your side, the tears burning your eyes. Whether from laughter or exhaustion, you didn’t know.

“Of course!” you choked out through your laughter.

He remained silent, waiting for it to die down. You crouched on the dirty floor, your laughter slowly dying down. You took a deep breath of it with a chuckle of disbelief.

You were tired, the laughter had hurt your side. And the alcohol made your eyes sting with sleep and exhaustion.

“How long have you known?”

“About a day?” he started oh so not that long—“After you told us to stay away, a hard 27 hours really,” he said, you picked it up the hint of humour in his voice. It was subtle but there nonetheless.

You covered your mouth not to ugly laugh at the absurd confession,

“So you have been keeping tabs on me” 

“We have,” he answered simply, “tracker would have been the last resort though” he pointed. You could tell now, he teasing but also telling the truth.

He was surprisingly honest. But they were absolutely out of their minds, every single one of them.

And you should be freaking out. Why aren’t you freaking out, right now?

Oh, you were tired. 

And he was right. You were sloppy, blindsided. You had tools to get yourself out of this situation. The police wouldn’t be of any help—you could use them.

Even so, who turns to crime once they get a little hiccup? But it wasn’t a hiccup, was it? Though you didn’t hear from the stalker directly, you felt something ominous and needed to do something before it got worse.

You put your hand on your knees, pushing yourself up. What could you even ask? You weren’t sure what they really did. Yeah you saw a man the roughed up. But your boss was a dick and you probably would have roughed him up too if you had the tools. how would you approach this.

“If I… hypothetically asked you for help with something…or someone, what would you do?”

“Want to rid someone?” he asked bluntly

Your eyes widened, quickly looking around to see if there were people nearby and if they heard.

“T-that’s not what I asked!” you defended. He didn’t seem convinced. “Scaring them away would be enough, no? I mean, they haven’t done anything since, but god, it’s just constant gnawing at my brain. Taking my focus. Whenever someone mentions a stranger I panic, I can’t do that. I have a life. The bar exam to study for.”

The words spilled out of you, lifting a weight you didn’t realize you carried. “I’m tired. Nothing is happening, but I just know it can’t be the end. You don’t just leave this type of note and disappear—it has to be on purpose!”

A firm hand held onto your arm, pulling you out of the space you had crawled into. He was now towering over you, his brown eyes boring into yours.

“You’re alright. Get to the point now, dove,” he said, his voice quiet but reassuring.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Saying it out loud felt too real. You’d feel too defenseless. But you were already here. “They found my house,” you whispered, barely audible. “There is nothing I can do but sit and wait…”

Ghost’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What? When?” The word was low, almost a growl, sending shivers over your body, and the silence that followed seemed to make the air heavier.

You blinked and tried to pull away, but his gloved hand was holding you firmly in the same spot. It wasn’t painful, just unescapable.

“Hum… that day after I told you to stay away,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I went home and I found flowers in front of my apartment building.”

His eyes darkened under the already dim light. “Fucking hell, Y/n,” he muttered, his voice colder. 

“I told the police, and after nothing happened, I thought it was over.” You started to stammer. 

“We’re not discussing this here.” He pulled you along, your feet struggling to keep up with his long stride.

“W-wait, what are you doing?”

His tight grip and the evident tension in his shoulders made your heart pound harder with every step.

He wasn’t bringing you to the club but to a car—a black SUV with tinted windows. Your eyes darted around, noting how empty the streets were all of a sudden. How had you gotten so far away in such a short amount of time?

Oh my god, you were getting kidnapped! 

You dug your feet to the ground, “Ghost, wait! Let’s not be rash—I changed my mind!” you try pulling away him, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

He opened the car door. “Get in!” he ordered.

You took a step back, trying to get away.

“You know what? I think—”

Before you could say more, you were hoisted up and shoved inside. You stumbled, your hand gripping something—someone—for support.

You looked up, meeting Price's blue eyes. The door slammed shut behind you.

“Hello, darling.” His voice resonated in your chest. Were they all just…here? What is happening right now.

“Is this a fucking reunion?” you muttered

“Sorry for the wait, I can’t show my face in there,” he smiled, his eyes falling from your face to the small, revealing dress. From this angle, he had a perfect view. “Nice dress,” he added.

You cleared your throat while sitting properly, fixing yourself. The car smelled strongly of leather and cigars. He was the culprit.

You turned to the door trying to pull it open, but it remained locked no matter how hard you pulled on the handle.

“Child safety,” he explained. You turned to him, swallowing hard, as your heart pounded in your chest. It was a bit infuriating how amused he was by this. “My side can open. Want to climb over and try?” he playfully asked, pointing at the door to his side.

You thought about it, but you would have to straddle his lap. Yeah, no—that was a trap. And that mischievous little smile only confirmed it. You looked at the front thinking you could climb by the passenger seat. 

Before you could decide, the door behind you opened. Kyle stood there with a proud grin.

“Scoot, beautiful,” Kyle said, climbing in without waiting for an answer, nudging you closer to Price.

His hand brushed your shoulder lightly, sliding down you back, sending an unintended shiver down your spine.

Price, his firm grip guided you to sit properly. You kept getting handled tonight. 

You quickly fixed your dress again avoiding his gaze. Why were you getting shy? It really wasn’t like you, how embarrassing. 

Ghost got into the passenger seat while Johnny got in the driver's seat, grumbling to himself.  

“Don’t be a baby, and drive,” Kyle teased, nudging the seat in front.

Your eyes widened as you heard the humming of the car as it started. Right! Immediate danger!

“Where are you taking me? What about Coco?” you asked, looking around.

“You’re not a map, she can find her way home.” Ghost said

“We have more pressing matters,” Kyle buckled the seatbelt over you. “Getting the hell out of here,” he added with a wink.

You frowned, shaking your head, but they were already driving off.

“N-no, she brought me here, and I—”

“Yeah, and we’ll deal with that too,” Johnny muttered.

You chewed on your lips, your heart racing as you tried to find something else.

“My bag… I have things in my bag. If I leave it behind—”

“I got it,” Ghost said. “Your phone too. Now stop finding excuses. We are not going back there.” he said looking at you over his shoulder. You closed your mouth and sat back. 

You were in trouble. You’d tried to be brave, but now look at you—waiting, helpless. Still, they wouldn’t hurt you, right?

Oh my god, what did you get yourself into?

Masterlist - Next

Then it hit you, and your jaw tightened.

“I lost my loyalty card. It was you, wasn’t it? That’s how you found the café!”

Kyle exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching slightly. “No. It wasn’t me,” he said calmly, though a slight hesitation betrayed him. “But yes, that’s how I found it.”

Your stomach twisted. He had stolen from you, followed and now tricked you.

You opened your bag, grabbing your phone. You needed to get away from him. Your heart pounded as you walked away from him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone still even but with a hint of urgency as he followed you. You quickened your pace, your grip tightening on your phone. 

“Don’t follow me, you lunatic!” you said, brushing your fingers over the keypad. You needed to call the police on this crazy man.

Kyle stepped in front of you, gently but skillfully taking the phone from your hand. His frustration was clear, but his movements were deliberate, not aggressive. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell! Give it back!” 

“I’m trying to help you here,”  His voice stayed controlled, “You’re smarter than this. Use your head, will you?” Before his words were challenging, amusing even now it was just grating to you. 

“Oh, fuck you!” you snapped, glaring at him. He didn’t flinch. 

That was the most frustrating part. He was calm, completely unfazed by your anger.

He should at least look the slightest bit annoyed, frustrated, even a little frown would have helped. 

“You lied to me!”

“No,” Kyle said “You made assumptions. I didn’t bother correcting you. You were close, though.” he smiled. 

He shouldn’t have. His smile made your chest tighten, heat rising within you.

“Close? No I wasn't, I didn't realize how off the rails you are!” 

Kyle let out a slow breath, crossing his arms as if preparing for a lecture. “Why would I mention Soap if I were trying to hide something? Give me some credit, will you? You think I spent hours outside that bloody café for fun?” He stated. Your mouth dropped, and he closed his eyes, holding his hands up, recalculating his words.

“I know how that sounds, but it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t following you. I was just observing. I had no intention of scaring or harming you.”

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting for a second. Was that supposed to make it sound better?

The worst part wasn’t what he’d said. It was how he’d said it. Like he truly believed that waiting in a café to study your patterns and figure out how to approach you wasn’t completely insane.

“Seriously?” you managed, your voice tight with disbelief. “That’s your idea of being considerate?”

Kyle frowned slightly, his tone, again, maddeningly calm. “You’re not easy to approach. I had to be mindful and tactical.”

Oh my god, he thinks this is a sales pitch. You stared at him, he was serious—dead serious.

“You know what? Keep the damn phone.” you mumbled, turning to walk away.

Kyle raised a brow. “Wait,” he called after you. 

You tried to be hasty, but as you walked out of the alley, a car stopped in front of you. Tires screeching, nearly running you over. Were there only crazy people here today? 

The door opened only to reveal Soap. His usual shit eating grin plastered on his lips, as he glanced between you and Kyle.

“There she is! Already givin’ Kyle a headache, are ye?” Soap said, his voice lilting the air with amusement. Kyle huffed, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch.

Soap ignored him, his grin widening as he looked at you taking all your attention. “Don’t mind him, love. He's a bit tone deaf at times, but harmless. You, on the other hand…if looks could kill.” He gave an exaggerated whistle, making you roll your eyes despite yourself. “Go on, love, get in the car. We’ll talk it out, aye?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you two! Get lost, and take your crazy friend with you!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not coming along.” Kyle said, handing back your phone. “Here. You’ll be safe with him. Go.” 

You hesitantly took the phone from him, expecting some trick. But he only looked at Johnny, his head tilting slightly, his index finger twirling, mentioning something. Johnny nodded and turned to you again.

"See? It’s just you and me, love.” He opened the passenger door, stepping back, giving you space.

You hesitated. Dealing with Soap for a few minutes was better than staying here and risking…whatever this mess was. He was annoying, sure, but he wasn’t studying like a school project.

“Fine, but if you so much as breathe wrong, I’m jumping out. Got it?”

“Deal,” he grinned. “I’ll even hold my breath if it helps.” 

You rolled your eyes as you slid inside the car.

During the ride you focused on the passing street, your mind wandering elsewhere remembering Kyle's words.

Asshole. You scowled at your reflection in the window. You should’ve never followed him.

The car slowed, pulling you from your thoughts. When you glanced up, your brows furrowed. This wasn’t the club.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Someone wants to see you,” he quipped, his grin softening the edge of your nerves.

You sighed but got out, walking into the building. As you got inside, it was clear it was a nightclub. Another of their properties you guessed. It was sleek, polished. Too fancy for your tastes. The ceilings stretched high above, and the bar gleamed under dim lighting. There were some people there already working, preparing for the night.

“Come on, lassie,” Soap said, tugging your hand gently. His grip was firmer than Kyle’s, but warm, grounding. You didn’t want to admit it, but it was comforting.

He led you deeper into the building until you reached a door. He knocked once before pushing it open.

Inside, Price sat behind a desk, his broad frame relaxed. Ghost stood nearby, his imposing figure casting long shadows against the wall. Both of their gazes locked on you immediately.

Maybe you shouldn’t have let him bring you here. Kyle and Soap had felt less intimidating. But these two were something else entirely.

“I bring a little treat,” Soap said brightly, his tone cutting through the tension.

Their eyes flicked to your intertwined hands. You tried to pull away, but Soap’s grip stayed firm. When you glared at him, he just smiled, nudging you lightly.

“Hello, darling,” Price spoke up. 

“Mr. Price,” you answer flatly, “ Soap told me you wanted to see me” 

“Yes, I was made aware of a little incident earlier, please sit.” He gestured to you but you shook your head. You had no intention of staying longer than you needed. You were only here because Johnny had charmed you into it. 

“The only incident was one of your men being invasive.” you said, finally pulling away from Johnny. “ You should keep them in check he—”

“I’m sorry love, but that is not what I’m talking about,” He said. As expected he knew what Kyle was up to and even if he didn’t there would have been no repercussion. 

 “A patron has been causing you trouble?” he asked, “why haven't you said anything?” he said firmly. 

You frowned. Why would you tell him? He was not the authorities. If anything that might cause more trouble for the club.

“I asked you a question,” he said this time his voice was more authoritative. He was not joking or letting you go without an answer.

“ It’s nothing you need to worry about,” you said, shaking your head. Ghost tilted his head slightly but said nothing. Still selling the shit out of his name. What was it with these men and the staring? You shifted on your feet a little.

Your eyes met Price's; he looked very much unamused. Jesus did he always have to be this intense. He stood up slowly walking around the desk. You shift again. Staying composed was hard, you unconsciously took a step where Johnny was. 

“Let me make this clear,” Price said, crossing his arms. “This is my club. My business.”

“I’m not here to humour you. You are one of the main attractions of the club, so your safety is a priority, if patrons are causing you trouble, they are causing me trouble. If something’s going on, you’ll tell me. End of discussion”

You nodded. “Good,” he gruffed. He cocked his head, eyes pinning you down. “Speak.”

“I get gifts sometimes. It’s always at the club—flowers, money, other stuff. But it stopped recently.” 

“When?” He asked. 

“A week or so,” you explained, “They probably lost interest,”

“Or they got closer, and the gifts aren’t needed anymore,” Johnny said, his tone more serious than usual. “Think about it. That lines up with when Price took over the club. If it’s someone who knows us, they’d back off and be watchin’ for you when you’re alone.”

You tried to remain calm, but his words sent a chill down your spine. No. They were mistaken. They had to be.

“Okay, everything isn’t about you.” You said shooting him a glare “Like I said these kinds of things happen, it's not a big deal.”

They would not scare you. You weren’t a damsel that would run to their arms. That’s exactly what they wanted, you were sure of it. 

“Kyle was making a fuss over a man who was probably just trying to get in his car” You explained. 

“He wouldn’t make that mistake” Price corrected.

“Maybe you're just involved in things that make you think the world is after you, but for normal people, these kinds of things are just coincidence.” you explained.

“And if it’s not?”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just desperate men with fantasies. I know how to handle myself, I’ve done it long before you arrived.” 

Price stepped closer, his tone lowering. “I’m not doubting that. But what happens if like today, they go from fantasies to actions. I can't protect you if I don't know where the threat is coming from.” he was not about to intimidate you into submission. 

“I don’t know how you usually proceed, but this…” you gesture to everyone in the room “is work, you have absolutely no say in what happens in my personal life.”

You stepped closer, masking your nerves with false confidence. “If I get harassed at the club, I’ll tell you. Outside of that? It’s my problem. Fire me if that bothers you.” you said though you rather hate if it happened, but you would not let this man you barely knew talk to you this way.  

The silence stretched between you. 

“No? Okay then, see you at work boss!” You said walking out of the office.

Soap followed you shortly after. You quicken your pace but these men were quick on their feet.  

“Bonnie! I'll drive you home,” 

“No thank you,” you said, not stopping your pace, but he blocked your way and you licked your lips in frustration.

“You get where we’re comin’ from, aye? We know next to nothin’ about you, and that means you’ve got no safety outside the club. What if somethin’ happens?” His voice dropped its usual playfulness, serious now, though still softer than Price. He wasn’t going to charm his way through this one.

“Why should I tell you anything? What difference would it make? You’ll just follow me and invade my space, isn’t it what you guys already do? One stalker or the other, doesn't make much difference to me,” you shrugged, resigned. 

“Look, I’ll give ye that—we went wrong about it. Shouldn’t’ve done that. But right now, we’re tryin’ to look out for you.”

“Why? You said it yourself, you know nothing about me. You want to be my protection? Is it because you’re attracted, you’re curious, scared of losing the main attraction? What happens when you lose interest? When you find another girl to fawn over? What then? I’ll just be on my own again, defending myself?” he opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him.

“Don’t give me excuses,” you shook your head “I’ll still be at the club, we’ll have our little banter, it’s okay, I’ll humour you, other than that, stay away from me, understood?”

He hesitated but nodded, “Fair enough. I’ll give ye my number,” he muttered, pulling out his phone. He paused, his gaze searching yours. “If anythin’ happens—anything at all…”

“I’ll call the police. Don’t worry. I’ll see you at the club.” you walked out. 

——

You stepped off the bus, exhaustion dragging at your feet. You tightened your grip on your jacket and hurried toward your apartment building, desperate to get home.

Your steps slowed as you noticed something sitting on the stairs. A pot—no, a bouquet of flowers. How cute, you thought absently. Someone must’ve wanted to surprise their significant other. But why leave it outside this late?

You looked around. Nothing. No one.

Curious, you crouched to check for a name, thinking you could put them inside. Instead, you froze. The words on the card hit like a gut punch, knocking the air from your lungs.

‘I gave you my heart, and you crushed it. Marigolds for grief—you’ll learn.’

The handwriting. Familiar. The same cursive from all the notes on the gift you’d received before.

You shot up, the note crumpling in your shaking hands. Your head whipped around, searching. The street was empty. Eerily silent.

Those flowers were for you and you were sure of it.

They were always red tulips. Sweet, bright, and full of warmth. That’s why you hadn’t suspected a thing. But these weren’t tulips. These were marigolds. And they weren’t at the club. They were here, in front of your building.

Your hands shook as you unlocked your door and stumbled inside. You set the flowers on the table and pulled out your phone, searching. 

Marigolds: grief. Betrayal. Jealousy.

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. 

It’s okay. Everything was fine.

Yes, it was real. The gifts, the stalking. It wasn't just a coincidence. But you could handle it. You’d call the police and be done with it.

 “Everything will be fine,” you whispered, clutching the phone tighter. 

Just fine.

Masterlist - Next

Someone had found out where you lived. That alone was utterly terrifying. You couldn’t sleep or study. 

The thought of staying in a hotel crossed your mind, but that would cost money, and you weren’t sure they wouldn’t find you there, too.

You walked to the club, brushing the thoughts away. At least they hadn’t followed you there anymore. Johnny’s words, which had unsettled you at first, now brought a small bit of relief.

They were too scared to come to the club. 

That bit of respite was deserved after all the weirdness. You thought.

Tonight was the last night before the club closed for renovations. You had to give it your all and get as many tips as you could. You were determined. You’d find a job in a café or something. You had refused the gig Price had proposed to you, not that he didn’t ask the other girls too. Just that this break would be good for you. But also you felt that it would be a trap. 

Just as you reach the back entrance, in the corner of your eyes though you catch a glimpse of something your heart drops. Your head turned to the trash bin, a red color next to it catching your attention. It was a common pattern with the other gifts.

You hesitated walking towards it. It was similar to one that you had had before.

Was it them? Did they decide to show up again? What did they leave this time? You reached for the ribbon, it was hanging from the closed bin.

Your mind raced. Was it like in those movies, where you would open that bin and find a bloody finger or something.

Don't be a finger, don’t be a finger, don’t be a finger!

You opened it and sigh loudly. 

“Oh thank god…” you mumbled, reaching to grab the piece of a costume looking at it.

 A stupid piece of fucking fabric. God you were losing it.

You took a deep breath, cleared your throat pushing away the lump that had formed and put the thing back in the bin. Well that was a pointless fright.

When you turned around, your heart leapt as your eyes met the looming figure of Ghost.

You jumped, covering your mouth holding back the screech that almost came out of you.

“Jesus! Announce yourself, man!” you spat, unable to contain your irritation.

He didn’t react, his dark eyes flickered from the bin back to you, as if pondering. 

Great. Now you probably looked crazy.

He was the only one who hadn’t tried to talk to you. Not once. And after seeing you going through trash, he probably never would. 

“What, unfamiliar with dumpster divers?” you quipped, trying to regain your dignity.

There was a pause, his eyes narrowed a bit, was clearly holding back a comment. 

He stepped towards you, and put the box next to your feet. He stood back straight towering you, as he looked at you for a moment before starting his walk back.

“I-I’m not actually…”  

He disappeared inside not giving you time to explain. 

Fucking great!

You looked to the sky, sighing he was going to tell them, wasn’t he. Heading inside you brace yourself. You paused when you heard snickering. Record time! 

Turning your attention to the group of men sitting by the bar, your grip tightened on  your bag. 

“Is the pay not good enough, love?” Price asked, tilting his head. “That job offer still stands, you know,”  he added, though he was teasing there was a hint of truth in his words.

“It was a joke!” You defend, “I wasn’t actually–” You cut yourself, realizing they were clearly trying to get under your skin. Besides, someone was snickering a bit too loudly for your liking. Your eyes narrowed on Kyle, raising a brow in annoyance.

“What are you laughing at, weirdo?” You yelled. “Don’t you have some elementary school kids to impress with your reading comprehension skill” 

“Care to join? I hear they’ve got some real treasures in those bins.” He grinned, unbothered.

“Bite me!” You shot back, storming off to the dressing room. 

You drop your bag dramatically at your station, before sitting down. Licking the inside of your mouth in frustration. The uneasiness from earlier had subsided with such short interaction. More like your anger was redirected. 

You grab your makeup brushes, readying yourself. You weren’t late this time, so you had plenty of room to get set up.

After getting in makeup and outfit, you shuffle to the back of the stage. An uneasy feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You push a smile and step on stage, your fur coat held tight against your skin. 

You strutted towards the center of the stage. Bracing yourself as you could feel the eyes on you. Ignoring how the attention that usually made you giddy and fulfilled now felt prickly and irritating. 

You knew the stalker was a patron, and they probably would be watching. But there were so many of them, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint who it was. You forced a bright smile and carried on, not letting it your anxiety. Pushing your playful side out

It was a simple peel set, no need for signing this time. You’d strip and get the hell out of here. 

As the first note of I just want to make love to you started playing.

You lowered the coat of your shoulder off your shoulder slightly. Then faked a shiver before quickly pulling it back over your shoulder, a coy smile spreading across your lips. You could hear a few teasing protests from the audience. 

Slowly, teasingly, you let the coat slide down your shoulders once more, shaking the faux fur to the rhythm of the song. Then dramatically letting it drop to the floor revealing the red laced undergarment. 

Cheers erupted around you, and your eyes flicked around the crowd. He could be anyone of these people. You pushed back the nervousness, forcing your hips to sway.

You pulled at the end of your glove, feigning frustration as you bent over, slipping it between your parted legs. Reaching behind and pulling it off, the fabric brushing against the lace of your panties, and you bit your lip, feeling the material slip free, the movement drawing whistles and hoots from the audience. You gave a playful wiggle of your hips to the tempo, before standing again, holding the glove high in victory.

You scanned the room again, finding yourself looking for the only person who could pull you out of your head right now—Johnny. 

He had a way of making everything less sinister and more playful and god did you need that right now.

And there he was, his usual adoring gaze. You felt the faintest flutter in your chest. You need to do crowd work and he would be your saving grace.

You walked toward the audience, tugging on your second glove pretending to struggle, the pouting dramatically. The crowd laughed. 

With a loud sigh, you scanned the room, your gaze landing back on Johnny. You paused, tilting your head, before making your way to him. He shifted on his seat, his smile faltering. 

You held your gloved hand to him. For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised, but his expression quickly shifted to a sly smirk. Leaning forward, he bit the end of glove, his eyes never leaving yours.

You gasped, covering your mouth, looking around the crowd. You pulled at your end the fabric peeling it right off. With the glove still in his mouth, he grinned widely. 

Ignoring the way your heart leaped, you shook your head at him faking disapproval, he shrugged lightly. You turned your heels, the weight on your chest lifting with every step you took towards the stage.

You continued your set, your confidence fully returned. The music ended and the light dimmed, you hurried off stage, your heart was pounding out of your chest, proud that you managed to pull through. 

That little play would cost you. You just know it. But for a minute you stop thinking about…oh no you were back at your dread.

You continued your way back, your eyes landing on him again—Ghost. Maybe it was the closing night, but the boys seemed unusually present today.

What was he doing backstage? He was never there. It felt like he was keeping watch, over something or someone.

His attention shifted to you. As you walk down the stairs. Your coat was now covering you again.

"Are you standing guard?" you asked, folding your arms. He never talked to you but had no issue ratting you out earlier. That irritated you.

“Do you ever talk, or are you just a glorified scarecrow?” you asked,

Your eyes stayed on him, searching for a reaction. He didn’t respond, he only tilted his head as expected. You sigh and lean on the wall turning your attention to your aching heels.

“Depends on the intent”  His voice rumbled suddenly, catching you off guard. “Do you want me to talk or scare someone for ya?”

Your head snapped toward him, your back instinctively straightening. His voice was deeper than you expected, but it fit him perfectly. You swallowed.

Was he joking? You couldn’t tell. Not with the mask obscuring his face and his eyes giving nothing away. His words vibrated in your chest as he spoke again.

“Careful, now. Choose wisely,” his tone was flat. Was he really offering, or just messing with you?

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, a hand pushed you toward the dressing room.

“Hurry! We need to prepare for the next one,” someone called. You stumbled forward.

Ghost’s eyes followed you until you disappeared into the room. 

Huh.

You sat at your station. Changing your wig for the next set. You changed your lipstick, staring at your reflection as the chatter around you blurred into a muffled hum. 

Ghost's proposition stuck with you. It made you realize something. 

You spend the whole night spiraling, letting that stalker pull at every little moment you had been enjoying. It was the last night before a while damn it! You were supposed to enjoy it to the fullest. 

You were not fighting, you were rolling over and taking it. Someone did get to your home, then was toying with you. That pissed you off to no end.

This was the last night for a while. You had to make it memorable.

Grabbing your feathers, you smiled brightly at the mirror in front of you. It didn’t feel right.

Didn’t matter. You’d fake it until it did. 

Masterlist - Next