#like two months ago it would take around 10 minutes of standing up for pain to be unbearable now it only takes two. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigbrainkatrina · 10 months

Text

Three Missions, One Half Hour -a Kigo fanfic

Mission #1: Defuse the bomb Dr. Drakken will use to destroy the city.

Mission #2: Rescue your girlfriend from Drakken's clutches.

Mission #3: Rescue your best friend who also happens to be in Drakken's clutches.

Kim is facedown in her apartment, crying from pain. Shego grips her harshly by the hair, and she won’t let Kim get back up. Kim pounds the floor with her elbows nad kicks Shego from below but none of it phases her. The woman won’t budge.

“Stop it!” Kim shouts hoarsely.

“Or what, Princess?” Shego spits. “C’mon, flip me you little bitch.”

“You’re stronger than me,” Kim growls.

“Do you think the dude who’s gonna kill you tomorrow gives a flying shit?”

Kim grimaces and focuses. She needs to be stronger. She always needs to be stronger. And there’s no way tomorrow will work out if she can’t flip a superpowered lady off her back.

She elbows Shego in the throat. At the same time, her legs clap against Shego’s waist. The throat kick stuns Shego for a second, and Kim’s legs are able to heave the body off her. Kim successfully flips Shego onto the ground.

“Say Uncle,” Kim smirks, kneeling on Shego’s chest.

Shego smirks right on back. “That’s more like it.”

A month ago Agent Ron Stoppable was kidnapped while working with his partner, Agent Kim Possible, by the nefarious Doctor Drakken. Kim worked tirelessly to find him and save him, and made a couple of decisions that weren’t good. Decisions that made the agency look bad, that got people killed.

So as of one week ago, Kim Possible is unemployed, officially disavowed from Global Justice. But that’s not stopping her from working the case.

This is the night before she tries to save him. She lies in bed besides Shego, staring at the ceiling. “Might be the last time we share this,” Kim says.

“Why? Because you’re going to get your ass stomped?” Shego suggests.

“No,” Kim gives Shego a look. “I’m pretty sure Global Justice is going to manhunt me for this. Gonna have to go off the grid. You ready for that?”

Shego sighs. There’s a bomb in her head. They both know that. All it takes is one click from Drakken. Meaning Shego needs to leave him tomorrow no matter what.

Drakken doesn’t know about the two of them, otherwise Shego would be dead meat. But he is suspicious.

There’s another bomb too, a big one. Set to go off tomorrow. Possibly nuclear. There’s no intel on it. They just know it exists.

“That means you’d have to kill Drew,” Shego says. “ That is what would get you destroyed by Global Justice. Betty likes him for some reason.”

Kim snorts. That’s partially the reason she was fired. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

Shego shrugs. “Nah, Kim.”

Shego always makes eye contact when she’s lying. Otherwise she looks away. Counterintuitive, but she’s looking at the ceiling now.

“Okay,” Kim says and pulls at Shego’s shoulder, bringing her lips close to Shego’s. “Let’s have fun tonight, and hopefully not compromise each other tomorrow.”

If all goes as planned, she’ll walk out alive with Shego and Ron with a defused nuke to add to her CV.

Phase #1: Get the Remote from Drakken’s Lab! Duration: 10 minutes

Kim screws up the stealth piece early in. One of Drakken’s goons goes to the bathroom at the absolute worst time, and she has to kill him. She hides the body but it doesn’t give her much time. Ten minutes later and a full force of thugs are on top of her.

Kim darts around the lab fast, planting bombs alongside the pillars. She’s got two planted with one to go. One minute and counting until detonation. This is not the plan. Wade is pissed at her but she seriously doesn’t have much of a choice. She doesn’t stand a chance against like — what? Thirty goons? Something insane like that.

Bullets pepper everything Kim passes by and it’s noisy as Hell. It’s impossible to sneak with so many on top of her. She considers killing some of them, specifically the one she’s targeted as the most talented, but it’s going to expose her to the other twenty nine. She needs them all dead in one fell swoop.

But she has the remote at least; that’s all she’s here for. Get this onto Drakken’s reactor and the bomb he’s created is donezo.

Kim crouches behind a desk, peeking past the corner. There’s a stone pillar at the center of the room. She absolutely needs to get her bomb planted there. She thinks fast, sweating through her suit. This mission is just out of this world.

She’s done wild missions before, but not without good gear, and not without backup. She’s solo. But this is why Shego was training her so hard. Because Kim is going against all odds right now.

Mooks close in. They know she’s under the desk. It’s made of metal, bolted into the floor. It opens behind her, in front she’s got a steel wall.

Kim thinks.

Crackle. Damn. Wade broke her broadcast ban on him. “ You realize you have forty five seconds, right? ”

“Yes, Wade, I’m not a fucking…” Kim growls, and then slams into the desk with all of her body strength. It lurches but doesn’t move. She slams it again and it lurches harder. Forty seconds.

Kim thinks about Drakken holding Shego by the neck, detonator next to her skull, tittering as he always does, and Kim screams bloody fucking murder and really hits the desk hard. It fucking snaps as she charges across the floor, dragging the desk with her like a goddamned shield until she slams into that stupid pillar. She roars again, twirling the desk around her, back to the pillar now, desk shield in front of her.

Thirty seconds.

Bullets pound against the metal making awful protrusions. Fucking terrifying. Kim plants the third bomb behind her, swearing under her breath. “Alright, Wade, if you’re so smart, tell me how to get the fuck out of here.”

“ They’re all on top of you, so. ”

“Got it,” Kim says fast. “Down.”

“ Down? No, Kim, that’s not —”

Silly Wade. Kim’s ideas are always good.

Quick laser lipstick job and she’d burning a hole in the wooden floor. Planks collapse and she slips through, just as the desk is yanked off the ground by one of the goons.

This does mean Kim falls exactly one story before she hits the ground, and she falls on her ass. Her whole body folds into itself and screams at her. She tumbles onto her side, everything burning. Something is definitely broken. But she’s got twenty seconds. Plenty of time.

Kim grabs onto a desk besides her, pulling herself up and with a major limp, drags herself across the floor. She picks up a chair along the way and throws it through a glass window. It shatters.

Fifteen seconds.

She looks out the window and shit it’s a big jump. And she’s limping.

Kim dashes back and then sprints ahead, ripping apart whatever break she does have. She leaps and soars out the window, body slamming into a fire escape to an opposite building. Her arms hook onto the rusted metal just in time, her feet slamming against the thing to just hold herself a moment longer. She swears and kicks herself up over the stupid thing and grabs the ladder.

Ten seconds.

That’s definitely not enough time.

Kim moves fast, she misses rungs constantly. But she moves aggressively, going as fast as possible, reaching the top.

Five seconds

She flops over to the top of the building, legs squeezing in beneath her and sprints. Her limbs move as far as they can in each swing, her back perfectly straight. She runs and the three successive booms! go off behind her. She takes a moment to look back, watching the magnificent orange explosions decimate the lab, the building collapsing in on itself and exploding in dust and smoke as she planned on.

Drakken’s research is now destroyed with the added bonus of many of his crew being dead.

Phase #2: Get to Drakken’s Lair! Duration: 10 minutes

“ Alright, next is —”

“Motorcycle!” Kim grunts as she leaps from one building to the next, landing hard. Each jump is like a death wish. The air blows against her and the fall is just so fast. Plus she knows she’s losing speed.

“ You’re going too slow, ” Wade says.

“SLOW?!” Kim screams as she leaps for the fifth time, miraculously making it, though she trips and falls into the gravely dust on this one.

“ Why are you tripping? ”

Kim gets up, legs quivering. “I’m jumping over rooftops!” She sprints, pushing forward with everything she has.

“ Roofto—Kim, you’re supposed to be on the ground! I thought you were—motherfucker !” Wade blurts out. It’s cute hearing the fifteen year old swear. Not cute though that they are majorly miscommunicating. “ Okay caught up, you have ten seconds to leap over the next one and drop onto the motorcycle. ”

“TEN!?”

“ Has to be ten, or I’m going remote on your ass. ”

“How do I—hold the fuck on,” Kim grimaces and goes for the next leap and she doesn’t make it. Her body slams into the bricks, and it hurts like a bitch. She falls and just catches herself in time, body dangling off the roof. She runs her shoes against the brick and it’s just making it worse. Upper body strength is it. She does her best curl up, lifting her entire body weight off a slight grip between six fingers holding onto loose bricks. “I’m missing the window, Wade. We need a Plan B.”

“ Plan A only, going remote. ”

“What the fuck?!” Kim shrieks, scrambling to the edge of the roof. Her motorcycle is way below and she watches it light up and blast out the alley it’s been waiting in. “How do I fucking—” She looks ahead and pulls out her grapple. “Fuck you Wade!”

“ I know, ” he sighs. “ We got to be precise. Catch up and you’ll get why. ”

Kim nods and leaps off the rooftop and into the streets. She shoots a grapple line to a building a few blocks down. It catches, goes taut, and rubberbands her way up high into the air. She releases the line and arcs in the air like fucking Spider Man. She goes for a second line.

It’s like swimming in an ocean that scorns you. You rock up and down, you feel relentless force against your body, everything is about to give out, and you might vomit.

Second line catches and she goes for a third. She’s already catching up, so for this line she swings low. She swings over the motorcycle and drops, body landing on top of the motorcycle in a heap. She adjusts fast, getting her feet on the pedals, hands on the steering. No helmet.

“Holy shit,” she gasps, looking ahead. “Fuck, yellow light, I need to—”

“ You’re going through. Trust me ,” Wade says with that crispness of a coy ass smile. “ Check your six. ”

She does. Five very sus cars on her tail, all black and driving very aggressively. They’re taking the red light too, she can tell.

Kim looks ahead and winces as she sees a massive moving truck come in from her left. Just besides her. She hears the roar of the engines and of the car horn blaring. Lights blare around her and she’s— fine. She makes it through.

She looks back and hears a cacophony of crashes, and when the moving truck makes it through all five of those cars are absolutely trashed. Everyone is screeching to halt now, blocking them from view. Blocking Kim from view. She rides on.

“ Told ya, ” Wade smirks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kim steps on it, blasting ahead. “You rock, Wade. Whatever.”

“ Fuck yeah I do .”

But of course now police are on her ass for running a red, and probably driving unsafely too. Some other cars come out and Kim’s pretty sure they want her dead. So that sucks. Kim swings her hips over to the right, nearly running her own flesh into the passing pavement and bangs the hardest right turn possible, darting into a small alley. Cobblestone ground, she bumps up and down. Crashes from everyone who tried to fit their big ass car into the alley.

Turns out the alley is some kind of local farmer’s market.

Kim swerves left and right, it is incredibly difficult to avoid hitting people or the fruit stands. Folks scream and eventually get the picture to avoid the crazy girl driving through a glorified bike lane full of civilians.

Everything whizzes by in a blur of color. Kim smiles to herself and looks ahead. Exit alley is… blocked. By a black car—

Kim leaps into the air and the motorcycle crashes into the black car. Motorcycle crumples like an accordion, car slides out a few feet from impact, and Kim hits the pavement hard. Her elbow and knees are shredded, fabric ripping off the suit revealing long ugly scratches on her joints.

A man in black stands over with a gun. She looks up at him, barely able to keep one of her eyes open and does a trick shot with the gun literally up her sleeve. Right in the forehead. Dead.

Second goon double takes. Kim rushes to her feet and charges into him like a football player, headbutting him into the car. She grabs him by the waist and throws him over her back. He hits the pavement and she’s out.

Police sirens. More coming fast.

Kim slides into the black car and tries to start it and motherfucker, it’s not started. She looks for keys fast.

“ Kim, fingerprint activated. Get it. Go,” Wade says.

“What?” Kim sputters, reaching out of the car, dragging in the first goon and bringing his thumb to the stupid detector. Police cars roll in all around them. “How do you—”

“ Spy cam in tie, sorry, forgot to mention it. ”

“Cool, man. RIP to the bike.”

Fingerprint is not a match. She throws the dude out and grapples the next one, dragging him in. Guns are getting pointed at her. Cops are yelling some dumb ass shit at her. She shakes her head, smashing the thumb into the detector.

“ Thanks Kim. ”

Lights go on and she’s a-go. She floors it and speeds the black car so hard into a police car that it knocks it out of the way. She blazes down the street and everyone’s on her tail now. But she’s got enough of a lead. “How bad is the set back?”

“ Bad. I can’t control the bridge unless you’re there in one minute. ”

“How far away am I?” she gasps.

“ Three. ”

Kim is supposed to follow the road and go there like anyone else but she’s got a shortcut if she goes down the one way only on her left… in the wrong direction. Of course she takes it. She swerves in and Wade starts screaming so loud she has to put him on silence again.

Cars whoosh past her and it’s worse than what you hear on the highway with the window open. She barrels through, probably starting seven different car accidents. Not good. But — a probable nuke is about to kill everyone so.

Kim grits her teeth and just drives fast. At some point, she sees a motorcycle a little too late. She swerves left and they swerve right. It slams into the front of her car and the driver smashes against the windshield and rolls over the roof.

Kim should stop.

She thinks about Ron and Shego.

She really can’t.

Bang!

Her passenger window smashes open. Kim looks and it’s the fucking motorcycle dude on her roof, pointing a gun at her. She lurches at him, taking him by surprise. He misses the next shot and she pulls on his arm like Quasimodo does his bells, and he falls off the roof and hits the pavement hard. Definitely dead.

Kim looks back to the road and swerves out, right in front of the drawbridge. It’s slowly going up. She floors it again and crashes through the barrier. People freak out probably and try to stop the bridge from going up, but this is the exact moment Wade can hack it so it doesn’t do that.

Kim rides up and up, going as fast as possible, fighting the incline. “Am I on track?”

“ Yeah, two seconds ahead. ”

“Perfect.”

The car hits the edge and launches way high into the air. It soars across the ocean blue and crashes into the other edge of the drawbridge, slip sliding all the way down and crashing into the next barricade. It’s immediately swarmed by cops.

Officers run out and jerk the door open. Point their gun and… no one’s in the car.

Back at the drawbridge, Kim hangs off the side, clinging to the mesh with her life. Her blazer blows in the wind and very slowly she starts the slow descent down into Doctor Drakken’s underwater lair. She hooks her legs through the mesh and flips through, carefully pulling herself along. It’s a little nauseating, climbing this long over open water way high in the air, especially when her gravity shifts with the bridge lowering.

But she does it. It’s worth it. Always.

When she gets to the end, she runs her hand across the cement and finds a 3 x 3 set of grooves. The only intel Shego was able to give Kim was the location of the hideout and the password, plus an idea on how the goons are arranged.

The grooves light up and the wall opens like an elevator because, well, it is an elevator. Kim climbs in and heads down.

“Dropping out of radio range, Wade,” Kim grunts. “Wish me luck.”

“ You got thi —”

It cuts off and she is alone.

Kim takes stock of herself. She’s bleeding in a lot of places. Sprained ankle probably, body completely worn out from the climb. Her heart still racing to panic attack levels. Her knees and elbows are shredded, much of her suit in tatters. Her left eye won’t open correctly, unless she holds the eyelid in place with her finger. At some point, she picked up a massive gash on her cheek, and she just feels like shit.

But she is alive. She’s made it this far and she will see it through.

She always does.

Phase #3: Get to the Bomb! Duration: ASAP, start counting and you’re wasting time

Kim expects to be ambushed the moment the elevator doors open on the third floor of Drakken’s subterranean lair. The goons are dumb, but not dumb enough to think Kim won’t drop in with a trap of her own. So the ball is in her court. So she does a classic switcheroo.

Using one of Wade’s gadgets, a criss cross car jack, she suspends a metal X at the top of the elevator. She strips off her blazer and slacks, and hangs it on the X-jack like a scarecrow and then uses an inflatable to mimic her head perfectly. It’s AI programmed and will react to physical contact.

Next she kicks a hole in the ceiling, and climbs out of the elevator, hanging onto the cable, clad in her blouse and tights. She curls around the cable waiting, looking through the hole at the top. The elevator stops on the third floor, and she hears gunfire. And then silence. That’s the goons shooting whoever is inside before they realize no one’s there. So they climb into the elevator like morons, see the fake Kim, and fire away.

Kim grins mischievously and detonates the bomb she planted and boom! the elevator blows out and falls three stories carrying a ton of corpses.

There’s a pause in action and Kim slides down the cable, stopping herself in front of her exit. Three goons gasp and ready their aim. Kim is faster on the draw and headshots all three of them. They collapse and Kim sighs.That’s the first wave.

Shego’s supposed to come from the right corridor with the second wave. Kim hits Shego with a sleeper dart, and kills the rest. Easy.

Kim leaps onto the landing only to immediately get grappled by an unseen thug waiting outside the door. He picks her by the waist and spins her around him, pressing her into the wall and crunching her with his back muscles.

So Kim stabs the dude in the lower back. He stumbles forward, dropping her. Sweeping kick and he’s down, landing chin first. She doesn’t hesitate and stabs him right through the brains. Not once not twice but three times. She needs to make sure he won’t surprise her later, and then finally she gets up. It’s a V-shaped corridor. Shego should be coming in—

—a band of goons decidedly not with Shego come in from the left wing. Either Shego lied or she’s in trouble. Kim knows it’s the latter. But either way, she’s shocked and too slow on the draw for this one. They’re sending bullets her way and one nails her in the chest right over the heart.

Doesn’t kill her, can’t kill her, she’s vested for this. But it’s like a well directed punch that knocks her back into the shaft, plus it freaks out her heart and she almost loses her vision for a moment.

She grapples onto the cable as it whizzes past her. It catches and she flops over her wrist, cracking it in two probably, and dangles one story below. But she hangs there. So her wrist is still somewhat usable at least. She leaps to the second floor elevator and pulls out the laser lipstick. Burns a hole, kicks the metal out and slips into the second floor corridor. She’s alone thank God.

But she doesn’t know this level at all. She doesn’t have a plan for this floor, nor would Wade if she was even able to contact him.

She steps out, thinking hard. This won’t do. She needs to get back to the third floor.

Boom!

The elevator door behind her blows off from an explosive and flies at her like a javelin. Kim hits the dirt and just manages to avoid it but holy shit. The metal doors lands yards away from her, crumpled, and she hears goons sliding down the cables like she did earlier. With no plan in mind, her best bet is to scramble for cover. So she takes a corner and it turns into a classic shootout.

She’s a far better shot than any of these fuckers, but they are so vast in number it doesn’t matter. Based on the rate of fire, she’s counting at least seven goons gunning for her. And in this kinda sitch, there ain’t no difference between six goons and seven, or even five and seven. She’s outnumbered. Plain and simple.

This is when it would be really great to be like Shego. Shego could survive this. She could take a few hits, throw some plasma and call it a day. But Kim can’t do that because she’s human. She dies really easily.

Kim checks the door besides her. That’s her ticket. But it looks like it has an eye detector with no other way to get in. She needs an eye.

She thinks.

And dives out into the hall.

She takes a shot to the ankle.

Crashes to the floor.

And just manages to prop up the elevator door over her before the goons shoot her head open. A huge puncture pelts into the metal sheet that makes her a little nauseous. Still, eyes on the prize. She finds the hole she burned through earlier and lines up her first shot. This one will be easy. Guaranteed kill.

Yep, she shoots some dude right through the forehead. Six goons.

She goes for another headshot and misses. This one needs to be fast before they catch on to what Kim is doing. She misses two times and hits one. Five goons.

She misses her fifth shot trying to do another headshot, and instead goes for kneecapping someone who consequently falls to his death. Four goons.

Reload.

Goon #4 on her hit list charges though. No time to reload. Fuck it. Kim lifts the elevator doors up to meet the dude like a wall, sidesteps his charge and gets him behind her. She turns and knifes him in the neck, other hand supporting the elevator doors. Three goons left.

Bullets rain down.

Kim tries holding the guy with just one arm, but he’s way too heavy for it. Especially while holding a massive metal shield. Maybe if she were stronger...

Three goons. She can handle that if she can just get through that door. She can use stealth and take them out one by one. Grunting, she hip checks the elevator doors off and scrambles to the door with the dead goon in hand. She’s so close to her plan working when bang! the fourth dude’s head suddenly implodes, and Kim trips as the corpse body checks her, smacking her head against the door.

Kim flips over and checks the body. All of the goons must have bombs in their head. Christ, that was a smart move on Drakken’s part.

The loudspeakers turn on. “ You think you’re all that Kim Possible but —”

Kim tunes him out. What’s more important is that all three goons are charging the hall and about to kill her. And she’s bleeding from everywhere she can and going limp as a ragdoll. She has two seconds to think of something.

She’s got no equipment good for this.

Oh fuck, but this dead dude totally does! Swearing, Kim sifts through his belt fast and finds a grenade. Exactly what she needs. She kicks the body into the hall and braces herself. Boom! She crumples against the wall as the smoke rushes into her, but it clears fast.

Okay, okay. Ambiguous amount of goons dead now.

A hand grabs her by the throat and slams her into the wall. She tries to pry it loose but it’s no good, especially with her shattered wrist. He throttles her, slamming her to the ground and using his knee to keep her down.

This is not how Kim Possible dies. But there’s no use fighting it, she still needs to reload her gun. She thinks she dropped her knife. She’s pinned and can’t flip him. So she needs to be smarter than him.

So Kim stops her own heart and ‘dies.’ Ron taught her how to do it a few years back, it’s his go-to when he’s being lazy as a superpowered deity. Kim does it to survive.

A good goon would release Kim and shoot her face open, but he seems satisfied with the strangle. He lets go of her to call in the kill, and she grabs him by the knees, sending him crashing to the floor. She rolls away from him, now finally reloading her stupid gun. Guy goes to grab his, points it at her, and—

Too late, she shoots his head open. Takes a quick scan of the hall and she’s clear. No goons left.

Kim smiles to herself and tries her best to stand on both legs, limping and slouching. She knew this mission would be bad but… first thing’s first, Drakken is still ranting on the intercom so she shoots it out. Dude’s being annoying, and she doesn’t need it in her life right now.

Kim takes a knee besides the goons and picks up the walkie. “Your goons are dead and I’m coming for you. Arm up.” Her voice is ugly and scratchy. She drops the walkie and looks into the window to the door she tried to break through.

Her open eye is bleeding on the inside. God.

“Stay positive, Possible,” Kim tells herself, dragging herself back to the elevator. She makes a half-hearted leap onto the cable and climbs back up to the third floor. It needs to be the third floor. It’s all she knows.

God, she wishes she could talk to Ron right now. He’d boost her confidence or something. This is impossible to do by herself, but hey, that’s the hand she’s been dealt so she doesn’t really get a say.

“Don’t bitch,” she tells herself. “Power through.”

Phase #4: Defuse the Bomb! Duration: Fast enough to radio back to Wade before he has a heart attack, poor guy

Kim steps into the reactor and it’s typical supervillain lair fanfare. But there are a few things that are not what Kim expected… but probably should have.

Shego stands in the middle of the room, looking awful morose and disappointed in herself. Drakken stands besides her in his usual lab coat, sniffing her hair the moment Kim walks in. He holds a detonator in his hand and Kim can only assume it’s for the bomb in Shego’s head.

Behind them is a giant glass sphere. Inside is it crackling, blue energy. At first, Kim thinks it’s electricity but upon further examination, she spots Ron at the center of the sphere, held up by a series of cables and hooks. The blue energy is his.

Agent Ron Stoppable is the bomb. That’s why Drakken kidnapped him.

“I think you know how this goes, Possible,” Drakken squeals in delight, stepping away from Shego. “You walk, and I’ll let your girlfriend live. You cross me, she dies.”

Kim stays very still. “What about Ron?”

“Not for sale, so sorry,” he grins so maliciously.

Kim thinks for a second. Shego’s pleading at her to not do it. Don’t take the deal, she says.

Kim frowns and tosses the remote over to Drakken, strutting over to Shego.

“Princess?! What are you—”

Kim’s lips close around Shego’s. She whispers. “We’re not winning this way. New plan.”

“Uh uh uh!” Drakken waves the detonator in the air. “Step away from her, Possible. No secret plans!”

Kim looks to him and stares daggers at him, locking her eyes with his while continuing to walk through the reactor and up to the sphere. Thankfully, Drakken’s hubris lets her do this. She doesn’t really know what the plan is, she just knows Drakken’s options suck and she can’t do them. There has to be something she can do.

She runs her hand against the sphere, peering through the surging power to look at Ron. He looks like he’s in a coma. She nervously runs her fingers against the glass, thinking. No countdown has gone off yet.

“Yes, Possible,” Drakken chortles with mirth. “Say goodbye to your friend !”

“Don’t rush me,” she spits, staring at him. “You can’t kill Shego while I’m still here, because you know I’ll kill you. I’m in control.”

Drakken blinks and retreats, confused.

Shego stares too. “Kimmie… I think it’s over.”

“Shut up!” she yells, voice still hoarse. She’s barely hanging on as is. Limping, half-blind, bleeding out, with two joints sprained and/or broken. She’s nearly worthless. “I’m thinking.”

She looks back to the sphere. If she were Shego, this would be fine. If she were just stronger, this would be fine.

Kim presses her hand to the sphere fully, and feels the warmth emanating from Ron’s power. She closes her eyes and presses her forehead to the glass. She needs to save Shego and Ron, but it doesn’t feel like she can save either of them. Because she’s the weakest of the three, she’s the one who can’t handle it.

Crack .

A small web of cracks cuts near Kim’s hand; she doesn't notice.

The blue power pushes like waves against her palm. She feels the warmth pick up.

No goddammit, she’s a survivor. Kim’s still standing, no one else could do that.

Crack.

This time Kim notices. The cracks are huge now, she looks up to see Ron’s eyes staring back at her soulessly. “Ron—”

The sphere explodes and the blue power flanks Kim, sinking into her chest, carrying her into the air. It enters from her ears, her mouth, her eyes, her very skin. She starts glowing as everything tightens within her. She catches hints of blue light on her nose and lands on the ground, teeth gritted. She tries to yell Shego’s name but roars like a horrible monster instead.

She squeezes at the air and from yards away feels the bomb in Shego’s head get crushed between her fingers. Kim screams and steps towards Drakken.

Scared shitless, Drakken goes for the detonator. He clicks it and—

—nothing happens. He clicks again. And again. And again.

Drakken’s jaw hangs open. “ Kaboom! There was supposed to be an earth shattering kaboo—”

Shego clocks him one time and he’s out. She looks to Kim. “Princess, I don’t know what you—”

Kim tries to scream Help me but it comes out as a roar again. She lumbers forward with this insatiable bloodlust. She can’t hold herself still, everything is moving for the next kill. It’s too much power, she can’t handle it.

“Kim…” Shego steps back.

Kim roars helplessly again. She tries to frown but it’s like the magic won’t let her, it makes her snarl and hiss.

Shego rushes into Kim and takes several swipes to the back from Kim as she charges her girlfriend to the ground. Shego grabs Kim by the hair and smashes her face into the floor. Kim writhes and kicks and bruises Shego. She feels each hit, she feels the satisfaction.

“Listen to me, Kim,” Shego screams in a distress Kim has never heard. “You have the power to flip me now. You can do that, you’re stronger, but you don’t do it just because you can. Focus. Think. Who are you?”

Kim remembers Shego dominating her in every sparring. She remembers how Shego never let up and only lost when she really did lose. She never went easy on Kim. Because she loved her so goddamned much.

Kim elbows Shego in the throat anyways and screams at herself. She tries so hard, and curls herself, forcing all of her limbs down. She thinks of everything that has happened so far and manages to, “Help me up.” It sounds like she’s being squeezed by a vice.

Shego helps Kim and stays behind her, holding Kim’s shoulders dearly. Kim breathes harshly and aims her hand at Ron, and all of the magic exits her with the same force it came in with. It surges through the air and violently re-enters Ron’s body. The very moment it’s gone, a pale and sweaty Kim collapses onto the floor.

Shego makes sure she doesn’t fall all the way. “Stay with me, Kimmie.”

“I’m here,” Kim pants. “Is Ron still…”

“Yeah, he had to be alive for any of this to work, I think,” Shego hugs Kim gently. “He’s okay. I’m okay. But you’re not okay.”

“No, I’m not,” she whispers. “Holy shit, that worked.”

Phase #5: Kiss the Girl! Duration: Before You Pass Out

Kim watches Shego as she quickly cauterizes most of Kim’s wounds so she doesn’t bleed out. When that’s done, all they need to do is transport her and Ron to safety, and call Global Justice in to sweep the place. Kim really wants to go home but she knows she needs to go to the hospital now.

“I can’t believe you,” Shego shakes her head. “We watched you on the cameras, it was amazing. That shit with the grapple to the motorcycle, what the fuck?”

Kim laughs and it hurts her ribs. “I know, right?”

Shego runs a hand through Kim’s hair. “You’re beautiful.”

“I look like shit,” Kim says.

“Yeah, you look like shit because you’re out here simpin’ for me.”

“Ha,” Kim pecks Shego on the nose. “Oof, I’m starting to feel woozy. Get ready to carry me, Green Lady.”

Shego rolls her eyes. “Okay. I gotcha.”

Shego gets up and Kim follows her. Shego tries to gently push Kim back down but Kim doesn’t let her.

“Let me have this,” Kim says and spins Shego around, bowing her back towards the floor. Kim leans over and kisses Shego with so much passion—

—and promptly passes out on top of her.

With all the injuries Kim sustained in that incredibly dense half hour, Kim is thankful no one did anything to make her lips go numb because it was easily the best kiss of her life.

#kim possible fanfic #kigo #kim possible x shego #spy thriller

5 notes · View notes

josiebelladonna · 8 months

Text

i wish more of these sad bloggers (you know the ones: the self-deprecating posts, the ones who take prim and perfect selfies, like every other account on tumblr and elsewhere on the internet) would understand that sometimes all you really need to rid of your melancholy and your depression is a lifestyle change.

eat better. don't eat as much. stay hydrated. move your body and get sweaty (take this from me: i don't like sweating at all, but it's a good sign especially if you're dealing with something like anxiety). do your research. especially if you're anything like me and journaling only *sort of* helps at best and only makes you hate yourself at worst. why should i waste my time and tears venting through words and getting nowhere with it, when i could walk around outside and feel the sun on my face and the wind through my hair, and hear the birds singing and the dogs barking and the billy goats bleating (there's a house up the street from me with five billy goats and three dogs).

you also have to be open to it. i know. it's hard. it really is. i get it completely. i have been there before. i know depression. i know anxiety. i know eating disorders. i know being on the edge and wanting nothing more than the pain to stop, so believe me when i say i know what it's like to be numb and empty inside that you genuinely feel like doing nothing but veging out. i grew up feeling like there was something inherently wrong with me, and i still feel like this, too. but there will come a point in which you cannot afford excuses, especially if your mental health is on the line. your mental health and your physical health go hand in hand: when one side is off, the other is off, too. when you're doing something physical, your mind will feel it: i introduced more cardio into my workout routine this week and i've only done it for two days but i almost didn't even need my cup of coffee, it woke me up and energized me.

it should also be completely up to you, too. you should decide to do that for yourself: if anything, i should just serve as inspiration, no matter how vague or blatant.

that's probably the main thing that irritated me about that old friend who kicked me to the curb earlier this year was it didn't seem like they were genuinely trying to do anything for themselves. they seemed far more interested in complaining about everything and developing a victim complex (and being VERY tmi about it, too): it was really ironic because i have a very clear memory of them saying "i was born to stand up for myself" about 7/8 years ago. i finally snapped and i gave them advice because i literally couldn't take it anymore. and when i say they complained about everything, i mean they complained about EVERYTHING. like every two days every 10-15 minutes, there was a bunch of new posts from them. it went on for a long time but it got really bad in those last five months: it got really hard to follow really quick, and it got on my nerves really quick, too. yeah, of course i lost patience.

and then they had the nerve to make it into a gender thing (which had nothing to do with anything i said to them; they implied i'm a transphobe, when i'm obviously not i know in my heart that i'm not) and the whole thing blew up in my face. i called them a bitch and that was it. i'm not bitter about it, but that's nerve, though. accusing me of that twisting my words and making it completely beside my point to them, choosing their precious partner (and i saw them on ig a couple of weeks ago: their relationship ended. how ironic, but they'll never apologize to me, though) over me, someone who knew them when they were a kid, that's nerve. mental illness, the internet landscape, and being a hypochondriac scrambled their brain: in their mid-20s and they're acting like they're 15. it's all too common, too.

anyway, my point is no one can help you unless you're willing to help yourself and notice i said "help" and not "love": yeah, i, too, find "no one will love you until you love yourself" to be complete shit and useless and cruel. but the fact of the matter is you can vent all you want but at the end of the day, you're in the driver's seat. you're the one in charge of your mind, body, and soul, and it's imperative to take charge and take care of all three. and what you do is totally up to you.

#rants #random thoughts #text

0 notes

prelovednikaidou · 3 years

Text

corrupt; draken, ken ryuguji [01]

Summary:

In which you met the man of your past, but he didn't come back to remind you of the bitter break-up. Draken had one thing in mind and it was to never let you leave his side ever again. Distance made the heart grow fonder but he'd rather let you spend the rest of your life hating him if it meant you'd never leave his sight.

"I don't wish you well when you ain't with me, I want you crying."

Warning:

mention of suicide, oral receiving (reader),

a/n: taglist are open up to 10 users! comment '☁️'

Word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

[01: jealousy]

Draken wanted to take you away.

The curves of your spine, flowing down to the slope of your well-rounded bottom flesh, he watched the symmetrical dimple right above your butt - mocking him that those precious intimate spots were no longer his possession to own.

It wasn't only him who shared the same thought; everyone in this crowded room had their eyes glued on you. As if you were holding those guests captive, you felt immense pressure on your feet and thighs, quivered before you wrapped your leg around the shining pole.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

Those blinding lights showered your sweating figure in all fairness, the sound of Abel's voice had long dimmed down, it meant that your show was done. It was silent in a minute,

lifting your face - your lips curled into a hunting smile and the room soared with cheers, crumpled money tossed across the stage, but your sense of content was suppressed by the overwhelming tension.

A pair of black pupils were starring at you - pinning you to where you stood. He was among the crowd, all in his glory without care but you. You felt something burst inside your chest, unable to tear your focus from him.

This longing for him is toxic.

Flashes of memories where those sober eyes bore into yours when he pumped his fat cock into your tight cunt until his thick cum over spilled, the same eyes that once shone with so much love but turned cold.

"Dollface!"

A shout from backstage startled you from your daze, another coworker came up and escorted you down, assisting you to take off the painful high heels.

"What's with you?" She threw a curious stare your way.

You still couldn't wrap your mind. He was there. Flesh and soul, presented in front of you. It was a brief eye contact but it was enough. Enough to tell you that he was coming back for you.

It had been years since the two of you chose to split up, making your paths without each other's companion.

"I, I've got to go. I forgot that I locked the windows, my cat's probably waiting for me. He's been out for 3 days so he's starving I think. Y'all can continue without me,"

You stood but your knees turned weak at the sudden arrival of him, standing by the door. A few steps taken back, you lost all rationality to stay calm because your heart thumped loudly.

Standing tall on his 6' ft, athletic and young Draken was nowhere to be seen but replaced - with a mature adult man that induced everything he carried into lust.

The robust body looked incredibly fit, lean, and you could see the strong outlines of his defined chest and abdominal muscles from the black shirt. If it was years ago, those leather jackets wouldn't suit him - he'd look like those up-start wannabe gangsters.

But it was different now. It clung to his broad shoulders perfectly, he wasn't as cheap as those local pranksters. The dark jeans also did little job in hiding his long legs. He was indeed a member of a gang; eerie and cruel - but he had never look this good that you want to fuck.

Draken's presence was enough to brush away every man in the room that you belonged to him. Your little admirers couldn't even look at him in the eyes, let alone make up a fight.

They left with a strong sense of defeat; no wonder you never once accept any confessions, turned out you have such a man waiting.

"Why is he here? This area is off-limits. Only staff is allowed. Naoki, guide him out." You forced yourself to mutter those words, uncaring to look at him with your back facing him.

Naoki sighed, this man literally slipped $750 under the table just to meet you. Those incompetent flies who claimed to love you didn't even spare this much effort. She only signaled him to step in before she whispered to you,

"Remember the guy I told you? The one that booked a whole session for your private room? He's that guy. It's just that he arrived a little early than the arranged meeting but it'll be great if you can build a connection with him."

You glared back, "Then send him back. We still have a week before that, right? I'm tired. I can't keep up with this," You pushed off her hand from your shoulder, began to take off your wig. His eyes were still the same; always undressing you naked.

Naoki could only grit her teeth, the money already landed in her pocket. What if he asked it back? She can't let such a great deal slip so she greeted him,

"She's a bit tired from the recent show. How about we push this to tomorrow? She's got free time on her hand to rest too." At least, this would do, right?

"If I have so much time on my hands, I wouldn't have come a week early. So you guess it yourself." His voice has changed too. It was an octave lower, you immediately rubbed your thighs together before you waved a hand.

"Haaa... leave us, Naoki. But I need you to go to my house. I wasn't joking about what I said earlier."

Naoki hurriedly nodded, clutching to her pocket before her eyes warily darted from Draken to you. Is this a couple feud? She noted in her head that she'd help this guy soon in the future - who doesn't want easy money?

"Okay, I will. Sir...? Err.. hope you have a pleasant chat with Dollface. I will excuse myself then ." The hindrance in Draken's eyes finally left the room, the door closed in a thump and the subtle tension thickened.

He didn't say anything, only leaned his body by the door as he watched you wiped off your makeup. This was his morning view back when you were still wet behind ears about pole dancing. You'd come back at the crack of drawn and he'd already been out to his workshop.

"Dollface."

Stubborn like a little cat, your doe eyes didn't look up from your make-up bag and he could see through your act to be so busy. He loved how feisty you've become after years. It eased his heart that you could chase off those little shit.

"It suits you, [Y/N]. Face so pretty like a doll. Make one's heart itch to keep around. But I wonder why the name sounds so familiar."

"State your business. I'm heading home straight after this so don't expect a lap dance or something."

"Then that's the plan. I'll drive you home, eh?"

That damn 'eh'. He picked up your habit too well that the time he spent with you shaped him into copying your habit. It sounded cute but your heart still couldn't forgive him. Let him suffer a little.

"Don't need to. My boyfriend is great at doing his job. So do me a favor and let me rest quickly, how about that?"

Now, you were looking at him through the mirror. It was just too hard for you to muster yourself to face him directly. Draken didn't seem shaken. He stood straightly, you clenched your thighs tighter.

"Have I ever been quick in everything when I'm with you, [Y/N]?" His towering figure gawked over your smaller frame - casting his shadow over you as his sharp facial features caught your attention.

"Can't remember. Maybe? Because I said it just now almost like a reflex." You replied, not backing down but instead, squaring up to him that your ample breasts brushed against his torso.

His cologne didn't smell like the tacky, cheap body spray he used to own. This one smelled so expensive, alienated your memory of his familiar scent.

"Now you're getting older, your memory is getting rusty, dollface. Should I put on a play and see if you can call anything in mind?" You felt your breath became heavier but he didn't let you lose your focus yet.

Your chin was tugged upwards, the shadow of his cap cast upon his face and you remembered now; it was his eyes. Because he wasn't vocal about his feelings, you could understand everything from his eyes.

"You've grown softer, Draken. I almost threw up listening to you talk like this. What, are you changing jobs now? Don't tell me you went from a gangster to a con artist."

No, you were lying to yourself. Draken didn't change but improved. Change can be something bad but he never did anything that would bring him down. He just got better.

And it was true when the velvety touch on your beating pulse suddenly moved to your lips before he squished your cheeks in his hand.

"Fucking hot as hell but so damn annoying." He laughed, the light from his eyes never return, only replaced by a wicked glint.

He wanted to take you to his place, fuck you in his bed until you couldn't walk properly so he'd have more reasons to keep you at his place. He wanted to swallow you whole and he barely even started but why was it so damn hard to have you?

"Don't dare to think of anything nasty. You might not care about commitment in a relationship, but I do. So take your hands off me, Draken."

"Kenie. It's Kenie for you."

Your lips were so plump and wet, his other arm wrapped around your waist - hoisting you up to his body before he leaned by the dresser.

You shrieked when his scalding hot palm touched your naked back and as he untied the strings of your bra, he smiled at your face as he said,

"Do you think I'm going to believe that, dollface? Do you really think I don't know that this pussy hasn't been fucked well for months? I have eyes across this ward. You don't get to fool me."

Heat rose to your face, your small hands pushed on his shoulders, "You're still up in my business? Sounds like someone can't fucking move on."

He nodded, ripping off your lacey bralette and his big hands began to palm your heavy breast - carelessly rubbing your nipple with his thumb. You fought the urge to moan, you hold onto his shoulder for dear strength.

"You're right. I can't move on." Your breath hitched, he nuzzled his face to the column of your neck, inhaling so deep, and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. He missed you so much. So much that if you ran away again, he'd just kill himself.

"I fucked my fist thinking of you. I got this hard just by thinking of you. I'm not ashamed of it."

"That's your problem, Draken. I'm not you. I'm living my best life right now, and sorry that I can still cum just with my fingers."

"That's my girl," He pushed you until your back met the concrete wall, your eyes widened when he took off his cap and put it on you before he dropped to his knees.

"I am aware of your appetite, [Y/N]. You won't be happy with such a small meal. You always keep coming back to have your tight pussy stuffed. Even when we were living together, you couldn't stop begging my dick every night."

"What the hell are you talking about-" You pushed his forehead away from your private part, one hand covering your pussy but he gripped the side of your hips - bringing you straight to his mouth.

"I don't care if you use me as your favorite Cherry Twins. But don't deny that I made you cummed the hardest when I was in your life, dollface."

Your eyes became misty, his words just flew through your head - empty when his mouth latched on your clothed crotch, lapping on the small fabric that the nudge of his tongue probed on your budding clit.

Cherry Twins were the name he gave to your vibrators. Since he was always out when you were at home, he'd make you use them to your greedy cunt - even made a video call so he could jerk off in the public restroom.

You were wild, but he taught you to live even wilder.

Next page: chapter [02] →

a/n : next chapter is full smut bcs thats the only thing my brain's capable of. Taglist are open up to 10 users! Comment '☁️’.

Taglist: @hanmascult @q-the-rockaholic @hikkarins

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorevengers x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken x reader #draken smut #draken #ken ryuuguji x you #ken ryuuguji smut #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuguji #nik; [series] ☁️#nik; [corrupt]

247 notes · View notes

gucciwins · 3 years

Text

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls.

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift.

A day that feels like it may never end until it does.

Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle.

10 letters

1. down - crater creator.

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords.

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic.

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave."

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can.

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best.

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner.

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her.

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out."

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore.

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke."

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme.

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers.

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering.

"Y/N."

Beautiful name. It suits her.

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?"

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior.

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge?

Mitch gives him the all-clear.

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met.

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way.

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him.

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can.

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day.

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though.

He's always thorough, a perfectionist.

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace.

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family.

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness.

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away.

"Harry."

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?"

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.

"It was her idea."

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me."

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so.

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his.

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?"

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently.

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out.

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet.

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside.

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents."

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in.

"We'll take care of it." He assures them.

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go."

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside.

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out.

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later.

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing.

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off.

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in.

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff.

"You got it."

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire.

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!"

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment.

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down."

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure.

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform.

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers.

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face.

"Good."

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience.

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him.

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe."

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness.

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident."

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out."

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about.

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted.

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being."

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end.

"Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated.

His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later.

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job.

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third.

Although he hopes under better circumstances.

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to.

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one.

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five.

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back.

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall.

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it.

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten.

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie.

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out.

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you.

He's a hopeless romantic.

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her.

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's.

A safe haven.

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth.

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face.

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being.

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her.

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for.

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate.

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing."

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states.

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her."

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests.

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers."

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?"

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah."

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her.

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates.

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does.

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second.

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie.

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do.

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear.

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all.

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you."

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers.

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them.

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?"

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect."

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees.

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one."

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it.

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame."

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier."

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously.

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting."

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way.

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now.

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has.

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry."

She's out of sight in the next few seconds.

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention.

Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?"

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off.

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough.

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge."

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good.

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins.

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good."

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents.

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out.

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out.

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries."

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher.

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life.

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly.

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N.

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine.

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again.

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him.

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back.

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries.

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset."

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems.

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance.

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her.

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers."

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go.

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority.

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do.

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay.

Harry is pacing outside her door.

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door.

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him.

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with."

"It was two, really." Harry jokes.

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands.

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment.

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you."

"Fair enough."

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do.

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen.

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already.

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date.

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me."

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay."

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all."

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for.

"You loved the cookies?" She asks.

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze.

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night."

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this."

"Good to know."

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together.

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain.

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything."

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind."

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her.

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it.

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old.

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others.

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different.

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so.

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does.

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry.

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night.

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door.

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door.

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?"

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel.

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises.

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet."

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?"

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better."

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception."

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting."

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before.

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited.

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles @taintedwonder @sunflowersupremacy

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles ou #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry fluff #harry styles angst #firefighter!harry #my writing

1K notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

490 notes · View notes

ericspinkhair · 3 years

Text

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

425 notes · View notes

soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years

Text

July 2nd - Daniel Ricciardo

Based on New Year's Day by Taylor Swift and this request by @spikejonzed

Fluffly, mentions of sex, banter, nothing graphic.

BTW, I don't know how I've never paid attention to this song, it's so so beautiful and honest. I've thought about this concept before though: the "Sunday afternoon effect", when all the excitement of the weekend wears off and you're just hanging out with your friends, laughing about silly stuff, or cleaning up the house after the party. The thing is, the friends that stay till then are the ones you wanna hold on to, and the same goes for lovers. I feel kind of bad... well not BAD but you know, must be hard... when you're famous and rich, to recognize the good ones from the beginning before you give yourself too much away and it's too late.

To be honest with you guys, I think Daniel must feel a bit lonely sometimes. We all do, but to think that people are only interested in you for your fame and money must be tough... something you worked so hard, that you keep dedicating your life to, to think that that thing is the reason for your heartbreak, to your loneliness... It's a two-edged sword, isn't it? Anyway, I wrote this little something with Daniel in mind, hope you guys like it. Hope he finds someone to be like this someday. Hell, hope I find someone to be like this someday. I think everyone deserves that.

Daniel woke up in his bed, no shoes, but jeans and party shirt still on. The light coming through the windows, shining directly on his face, threatening to make his headache even worse. He let out a groan and turned to the side. There's someone on his bed with him. Shit. He just remembered. Last night was the first time he was introducing (y/n) to his friends. His birthday "small get together" (or at least that's what it was supposed to be) was the perfect opportunity for testing the waters and giving the "next step" without making too much fuss about it, after all, they've only been going out for a couple months and with his tight schedule it meant a lot of facetime calls and weekends, but almost no weekdays and routine stuff.

Yet, he was absolutely smitten with her, she was fun and easygoing, passionate about her own work and friends, but still caring and interested in him. They had amazing chemistry, mind-blowing even. But Daniel had lived enough to know that hanging out with someone on the weekends and knowing their best side was one thing, living through daily and mundane stuff was a completely different thing. Where this could go was still a mystery to him and he didn't want to raise too many expectations before he was sure. Still, she looked so beautiful sleeping, a true vision. He tried to remember if something had happened last night, but judging by his clothes still on, and hers as well, he guessed not. As if on cue, she smiled, with her eyes still closed.

"Stop being creepy" she said smiling. "I can feel you watching me sleep"

"You're not even asleep anymore" he smiled and she opened her eyes. He was taken back by her eyes staring directly into his.

"Still creepy though" she laughed, getting closer to him. He held her and they stayed like that for a while.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?

"Aren't you hungover, or sick?" he asked again and she laughed.

"Not at all. I have this really weird superpower, you know, I don't get hungover. Ever, actually" she laughed.

"I don't believe you. I have the headache"

"No, it's true. We did drink a lot yesterday, though" she commented.

"Yeah, well, welcome to having Australian friends. No such thing as light drinking with those guys" he laughed but grimaced at the pain in his brain.

"I'll get you something"

"Huh?"

"For the pain" she explained getting up from the bed.

After a while she returned with a pill and a glass of water, passing them to him.

"Thank you, baby" he took the glass, finishing it. "Come back to bed now"

"Your house... like, I'm not even sure if I should tell you to take a look or just pack your essentials and abandon it" she smiled.

"Uhh" he groaned. "I'll call someone later"

"Like a constructor with a wrecking ball?" she laughed.

"It can't be that bad"

"It's bad" she started. "But we can manage it" He looked at her intrigued. "After a shower" she pulled his hand. "Join me?"

"If I ever say no to that question, just put me in an asylum" he said. "I need a kiss though, as motivation" he smirked.

"Noo... I have morning breath"

"What? Me too" he said pulling her down and kissing her anyway. "Uh, no. You're right. Yours is worst" he said laughing while getting up and walking into the bathroom.

"Asshole!" she laughed following him.

They stripped and got into the shower, taking turns in letting the water run through their bodies.

"Come here" Daniel said, putting some body wash in his hands and spreading them over (y/n) body.

"Hum... this feels nice" she said.

"You're so beautiful" he said kissing her shoulder.

"You're so wasted" she laughed lightly.

"Hey! I'm sober. I'm just too tired. Give me a couple hours to recover, and I'll claim my birthday privileges"

"Birthday privileges? It's not even your birthday anymore" she laughed.

"Okay, but first, it's the weekend of, and second, I didn't get any time alone with you yesterday"

"Fair. And what will be your requests, may I ask?" she asked teasingly.

"Humm... you're so creative" he said kissing her. "I'm sure we'll think of something"

They finished the shower after a while, enjoying each other's company and the comfortable silence.

"Did anyone crashed here?" (y/n) asked when they were stepping out of the shower.

"I have no idea" Daniel answered. "I just remembered going to take a nap and waking up this morning. Shit, we didn't... did we?" (y/n) laughed out loud at that.

"Wow! Really, Dan?"

"We did not. I would've remembered"

"Good save. Such a gentleman" she laughed.

"I drank way too much. Sorry. Don't be mad"

"It's fine. I'm messing with you, I don't remember anything either. To be honest, I don't even remember joining you on your 'nap'" she said making air quotes.

"We're the worst hosts" he said getting out of the bathroom and going into the closet to get some clothes.

(y/n)'s heart swelled at the thought of hosting a party with Daniel. There was something so intimate about that statement, so homey.

"You want a shirt?" Daniel asked from the other room, waking her up from her daydream.

"Yeah, sure" she took the shirt, some underwear, and some sweats. Then brushed her wet hair and looked in the mirror. Not a trace of makeup left. She sighed thinking about how falling into a routine with Daniel meant letting the barriers down.

"Alright, snap out of it" she said to herself, getting out of the bathroom and walking outside, to the living room where Daniel was standing rubbing his neck and looking around.

"This is bad" he said when he saw her joining him. There were empty beer bottles and cups all around the living room and balcony, pizza boxes (with half-eaten slices left behind) in the coffee table, party decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the kitchen was even worse, with liquid spilled on the ground and bottles everywhere. There was glitter all over the floor and the couch - someone had brought some of those party poppers, which looked so much fun yesterday, but no so much now. But the best part was the polaroids, left all over the house with the craziest poses.

"Pack your stuff, we're deserting this goddam hellhole" he said and she knew he was joking, he said that about everywhere, but she still shook her head and rolled her eyes, picking a polaroid photo from the ground.

"Everyone had so much fun" she showed it to him. "I loved meeting your friends"

He took the photo from her hand, it was one where (y/n) was sitting on the couch with two of his buddies from Australia, making funny faces while holding cups. He remembered the moment because he was the one who took the photo.

"How's the headache?" she asked him.

"Almost gone"

"Good. So you don't have an excuse. Move your ass, where are the trash bags?" she laughed going into the kitchen.

"Hey! That was very sneak of you" he laughed but followed her anyway.

They spent the next hour collecting bottles, vacuuming glitter, and just cleaning the whole house. Daniel complained the whole time, but in truth, he was very glad to have her there. Sure, he could just ignore the whole mess and hire someone on Monday to clean everything (he probably would still do that anyway, for the heavy cleaning like bathrooms), but it was really nice of her to just stick around, seeming unbothered by the housework. When she finished tying the last trash bag and putting it on the entry hallway she flopped on the couch besides Daniel, who had called it a day some good 10 minutes ago.

"Done?" he asked her.

"I feel like punching you for asking me that" she answered playing annoyed. He lifted his hand in defense.

"What? I did my part!"

"Men" she shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't complained about being hungry yet"

"Well, I'm starving! Was just waiting to suggest going out, or ordering in"

"Ordering in, please. I don't want to get off this couch any time soon"

Daniel got his phone out to order some food. It was almost noon, so he thought about something like pasta, some carbs would be nice right now. Then he felt (y/n)'s head drop on his shoulder, her hand caressing his arm. It was such a sweet gesture, so understated, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"What?" she looked at him.

"I'm really glad you're here. Thank you"

"It's nothing" she smiled.

"I don't mean the cleaning. Well, that too. But just, thank you for being you and wanting to hang out with me, you know, after the party"

"I'll always wanna hang out with you, partying or cleaning bottles" she said and leaned in to kiss him. "Happy birthday old man" this made him smile through the kiss.

"Thank you, young lady" he said still smiling. "Let's feed you now, yeah?"

"Please! Let's get some carbs on this house!" she smile.

"Hey, guys!" (y/n) and Daniel looked up to see Luke, one of Daniel's buddies walking out of the guest bedroom.

"Dude! I didn't know you were here" Daniel laughed.

"Yeah, just woke up. Definitely wasn't hiding in the bedroom waiting for the cleaning end to get out" he grinned making (y/n) and Daniel laugh.

"You know what? Just for that, you're going downstairs to pick up the food when it gets here, and taking out the trash!" (y/n) teased him, tossing a pillow from the couch at him.

Daniel just observed while his friend and his girlfriend joked and laughed. He thought about how right now he was enjoying a feeling of contempt that wasn't really natural or much appreciated by professional athletes, but this time felt right to indulge in it. He felt safe like someone's got him, finally. He took (y/n) hand on his and squeezed it three times, he knew this was already a good thing, something to last. She looked at him, she knew exactly what he meant.

#Daniel Ricciardo #Daniel Ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo oneshot

263 notes · View notes

astranva · 3 years

Text

Locked Out

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Few swear words.

Category: Angst to fluff.

Prompt: “Stop running from me.”

Summary: Communication is key, but you locked Harry out.

let me know what you think, anon! hope you like this🤍

// masterlist //

When you ask couples of their best period, they would tell you that it’s the “honeymoon phase” of their relationships.

They’d swear up and down on the cute gestures their partner did, giving you a list of all the fuzzy emotions they felt during that very time, how everything left a lingering sweet taste that they longed for.

Some would say that their honeymoon phase wasn’t just that, a phase, but it was a belief that both partners could practice so it would linger and embed itself into their relationship with no signs of decay from the passing years.

These are the same people who would go on and on about how it was communication that kept all these “sparks alive” and how important confrontation was; how being with someone meant that you unravel yourself to them.

Harry knew that seeking perfection was pointless because nobody would ever reach that, not him, not his closest friend, and not you.

It was why he accepted how you were a closed-off person when you began seeing each other; you weren’t one to open up and spill out your emotions and deepest thoughts that were anything but the happy aura you had around you at all times.

He accepted you.

It was acceptance that built the 10-month relationship.

You were there for Harry whenever he needed you, during the bad and good; the stress of writing a new record, the stress of how the world saw him, the stress of wanting to reach a perfection he knew didn’t exist.

You held him at night as he was naked in more ways than lack of clothing would be. It was when he was vulnerable and felt small that your heart clenched, feeling helpless even though you were the first person he sought after good news or an uneasy day.

It was you who held him as he cried. It was you who assured him when the industry made him feel like he wasn’t good enough. It was you who cursed at the world when it gave him shit for his self-exploration and self-love that you praised him for.

It was you.

But it was never him.

It wasn’t because Harry didn’t care nor didn’t put effort at helping you feel at ease; it was because you had denied him of that privilege.

You fought your demons on your own to a point where you tried convincing everyone around you that you didn’t have any before shifting the conversation so that their needs and state were put before your own.

Besides crying that one time as the both of you watched Marley & Me, Harry had never seen you cry, although he heard you a few times.

It happened one time, 3 months into your relationship. He was surprising you at your office with lunch, smiling and greeting your colleagues whom he had seen a few times before he reached your office, putting a finger to his lips as to hush your assistant with a smile before he quietly opened the door to your office.

Your chair was turned towards the window, and if Harry was any louder, he could’ve missed the quiet sound of your sobs.

“Lovie?”

And he heard you gasp and saw your arms moving furiously before you turned, avoiding eye contact as you took a gulp of the glass of water on your desk.

“What’s wrong?”

He was gentle, he knew he was. So why did you tell him that you were “just a little tired”?

And then it happened again at a party Jeff was hosting.

He noticed that one minute you were beside him as he talked to his friends, the next you weren’t.

The music wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet enough to make you hear your phone. He had searched for you everywhere before finally trying to check if you were at the restroom.

He knocked, “Y/N?”

His ear was pressed against the door and it was why he heard the sniffle before he heard your voice, “I’ll be out in a minute!” Your voice broke at the end.

“Are you okay, Lovie? Do you want me to come in there?”

“No, H. I’m fine.”

I’m fine.

Two words Harry never believed.

And although he tried to get you to talk that night, assuring you that he would listen to whatever that was on your mind, he reached the same dead-end street – you were “fine.”

The both of you were shopping when it happened.

Holding two bags in one hand, Harry held your hand in his free one as you walked outside the Gucci store he wanted to visit.

You were midway through a laugh at Harry’s reminder of how you looked in one fiery red and brown sweater that you tried and he had taken a picture of when suddenly a shout directed to you sounded from across the street.

“You don’t fucking deserve him, you fucking gold-digger!”

Harry was a royalty when it came to not giving haters the reaction they wanted, but to hear something directed to you so directly and vulgarly, he was seething.

His head instantly snapped towards the source, looking at the girl who insulted you, standing among other fans and paps.

It was you tugging on his hand that had him drift his attention, “Let it go.”

“Let it go?” He questioned, face hard as you somewhat dragged him towards your car, “No, this wasn’t-”

“Harry, please.”

“She just insulted you.”

“Just get in the car, alright?” Your defeated look almost made him soften – keyword: almost.

Harry got inside with a slam of the door and a scowl on his face, running the car before driving.

Once he got out of the street, Harry glanced at you, “Are you not angry?”

“No.”

You couldn’t be real.

“But you know it’s not true, don’t you?” He asked with concern, glancing from you to the road.

With every passing second that you remained quiet in, Harry’s heart seemed to break.

“Don’t you, Y/N?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said quietly, moving your legs so that they didn’t face him before you looked out of the window.

“Of course you don’t,” he found himself saying, “You never do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frowned, turning back to look at him.

“It means you don’t talk to me, Y/N. Ever.”

“I do talk to you.”

“I mean opening up, Y/N,” he clarified, “I’m always bitching about my problems, crying to you and ranting about everything, but I just don’t get why you don’t do the same. Not even the slightest. And don’t give me the because there’s nothing wrong bullshit, please, because we both know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Your voice was raised a little.

“I just want you to trust that I won’t judge you, that I’ll listen to you,” he frowned, “That you don’t have to do and feel everything on your own.”

You remained quiet for the rest of the ride and Harry hated it.

Reaching your apartment, he followed you up and into it, cautiously watching your every move and how you seemed to keep distance from between the both of you.

“What do you want for dinner?” You asked him, your tone almost fooling him and driving him into denial of how nothing wrong had happened only some minutes ago.

Softly, Harry sighed as he watched you begin to take out a few ingredients from your cupboards, “Are we not going to talk about what happened? You want us to just sleep on it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Your reply angered him, his jaw clenching for a second before he squinted his eyes at you, “Will you ever stop doing that?”

Sighing, you turned to face him, “Doing what?”

“This,” he gestured towards you, “Denying any discomfort or feeling just because you want to convince everyone that everything is fine when something isn’t, Y/N.”

“You know that I’m not one to open up. You knew that before we got together.”

“I do and I accept that, but can’t you see that it’s unfair, too? I had to find about Jim stealing your designs from your assistant, Y/N. I had no idea that you were terrified of cats until Sarah told me, yet you let me place Evie on your fucking lap and didn’t utter a word! I can go on for days, Y/N,” Harry said, the frown not leaving his face before his face softened, “It’s like every time I finally catch up with you, you run away.”

“It has always been like that for me, don’t you understand that?!” You shouted, mentally cursing at yourself at how your eyes grew tearful.

“I do understand and I understand that it’s something we can work on together! As a couple, a team,” he gestured at the distance between the both of you, “I just need you to help me out, Y/N!”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” You threw your arms in the air.

With a soft expression and a pained look, Harry’s shoulders slumped down. “Stop running from me.”

Sensing your uneasiness, Harry approached you, engulfing you in a hug as he tightly wrapped his arms around you, feeling you clutch to his sweatshirt.

And then he heard it.

You let out a sob, crying into his chest as you shook against him.

He said nothing, but Harry held you.

“I’ll try,” you had managed to let out and although it was muffled, he heard it, “I’ll try, I promise.”

Harry moved his head to press a kiss to the top of your head, pulling away slightly to cup your face and have you look up at him, “At your own pace, Lovie. No rush.”

You only nodded, face looking innocent as Harry left a kiss on your nose.

“No rush.” He promised.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagine #angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst one shot #otp angst prompts #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine

1K notes · View notes

btswrckd · 3 years

Text

War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face.

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin.

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider.

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence.

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him.

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’.

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission.

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got.

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are.

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open.

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well.

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow.

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure.

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does.

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you.

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran.

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away.

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house.

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst.

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction.

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

“What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened.

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat.

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path.

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho.

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?”

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old.

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets.

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job.

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again.

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling.

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out.

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family.

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time.

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door.

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles.

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

#kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts mafia smut #kim taehyung mafia smut

388 notes · View notes