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arlana-likes-to-write · 2 years ago

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Reborn

Part 2 of Monet Issue by Chase Petra

Summary: A phone from your best friend alerts the Avengers of your disappearance. It’s a race against the clock to save you before it’s to late.

Warning: Torture, forced experiment, truth serum,

Word count: 3.6k

Natasha was surprised it took him this long to confront her in the weapons locker of all places. It was mid-morning on the day after you left. She was cleaning her pistols and fine toning her Widow Bites. They still had no idea when they were leaving as the information was still coming in. But it was still good to be prepared. “Romanoff,” Tony said. He leaned against the wall.

“Stark.” She didn’t look at him. She was still furious with the man but out of respect for you, she would be civil. At the end of the day, they were a team and they had to watch each other’s backs.

“I’m guessing you are upset with me too.” She loaded the bullets into her magazine. “This is probably the worst place to talk to the person sleeping with my daughter,” Natasha smirked.

“I’m not going to kill you.” She said. He laughed.

“Well, that’s a relief.” There was a silence between the two. “So how long have you been sleeping with my kid?” He finally asked. Natasha sighed, placing her guns. She faced the man. She knew a shovel talk was in her future but she didn’t expect it to be like this.

“8 months,” she answered honestly. There was no reason to lie.

“I’m guessing if I ask you to call it off you won’t.” She smiled.

“You could be correct.” Natasha took a step closer to him. Her arms crossed. She noticed he was becoming nervous. “Let me ask you something, Tony. Do you love Y/n?” She asked.

“Yes,” The man answered without hesitation. Natasha wasn’t surprised by that. She’s caught him reading every article he could find about you.

“Have you told her that?” He didn’t say anything but Natasha saw his head shake, no. “Let me make an educated guess here. Howard didn’t show any emotions, right? He didn’t spend time with you, didn’t praise you when you wanted him to, and didn’t tell you he loved you when in fact he did. Which makes sense because it was probably how he was raised.” She went back to her guns to put them away. “I’m not your therapist but to your surprise, I care a lot about Y/n. So stop the generational trauma and be the father she deserves.

“How-how do I do that?” He asked. Natasha has never heard the man so unsure of himself. She put her guns away.

“I don’t know, Tony, but I see the way you act with Peter. That fatherly instinct is there somewhere.” She had a training session with Wanda to get to but her phone ringing stopped her. She half expected to see your name on the caller ID but it was Taylor. The Black Widow had met your best friend a handful of times. “Hey Tay,” she answered.

“Is the Egghead still with you?” Taylor asked. Natasha smiled at the nickname but the smile was short-lived. She heard the sound of a car so Taylor must be driving.

“No, she left yesterday. What’s going on?” Taylor sighed.

“She didn’t show up for work this morning. I tried calling her but she’s not answering her phone so I thought she stayed another night at the compound and you and she were engaging in adult-related activities. Natasha rolled her eyes at that. She turned to face Tony, who was watching the Russian.

“Maybe she overslept.” That was unlikely but she needed to give another option besides the worst-case scenario. She heard Taylor turn off her car and slam the door shut.

“I’m at her place now and will dump cold water on her.” Natasha waited for Taylor to take the elevator to your floor and unlock your apartment. “Shit,” Taylor said. Natasha put the phone on speaker.

“Tay, what do you see?” She asked. Taylor was calling out your name, oblivious that Natasha asked her a question. She could tell Taylor was running throughout your apartment.

“Taylor,” Tony said. “What is going on?” The sudden voice of your father cut through her fog.

“She’s not here,” she said. “Her window is broken and her coffee mug is shattered. There is graffiti on her kitchen cabinets.” Natasha’s phone dinged and she opened the text message Taylor sent. Her heart stopped. She looked up at Tony. The color was drained from his face but his jaw clenched. HYDRA had you.

Your eyes slowly opened but you admittedly closed them as a bright light was shining down on you. A pain throbbed behind your eyes. You were so thirsty. You reopened your eyes and looked around the room you were in. It was a 4 wall room with a door. You were chained to a metal chair. An IV was attached to your right arm. You looked down at your chest and noticed CAM patches attached to a monitor of your heartbeat. The only sound in the quiet room was the quiet beeping of the heart monitor on your left. It was comforting to some extent. You tried to test the resistance of the metal chains but your arms wouldn’t move. No matter how hard you tried your arms wouldn’t move. There was a discount between your brain and your limbs. “Impressive,” you looked up at the door. You didn’t notice it open. “We thought you would be out much longer.” The man was German. You noticed the slight accent. He wore a black uniform with the HYDRA symbol on his shirt.

“HYDRA,” you said. The man smiled. A female walked from behind him. She was wearing a white lab coat and a mask covering her mouth. She checked your vitals.

“So you know who we are,” Of course you did. The Avengers were working day and night to remove the organization.

“Her vitals are good,” the doctor said. “We can begin.”

“Begin?” You questioned. Your throat was killing you. “Begin what?” The man nodded. The doctor pulled a syringe out of her pocket and inserted it into your IV. You tried to fight her but it was no use. She pushed the clear liquid.

“You should be honored, Miss. Stark,” he said. “You are going to be a part of history.” The heart machine began to beep rapidly indicating your growing panic.

“What did you inject me with?” You asked. Breath, you told yourself, breathe. You were no use to anyone if you sent yourself into a panic attack. The beeping settled down.

“A truth serum,” he answered. “In 30 minutes, no matter what question we ask you, you will be forced to tell the truth.” Impossible. He smiled at the disbelief clear on your face. He took a step forward, taking your chin in his hand. “In 30 minutes, you will tell us all of your secrets.”

Tony was abnormally quiet as Peter and Kate gave their report on your apartment. Since they were stationed in the city it made sense to have them check it out. The security camera caught you being dragged out of the back door and into the van. FRIDAY was tracking the van but Tony wasn’t hopeful. They’ve spent months trying to track down HYDRA bases and have only found a handful. “Thanks, guys,” Steve said. “Report back to the compound.” They nodded and the feed ended. It was all hands on deck even Bucky and Yelena were being pulled from their missions to help out.

“Do you think it could be connected to the upcoming mission?” Wanda asked. Their next target was a Russian factory. It was rumored that they were developing a new drug.

“They took her alive,” Natasha said. “That means they want something.” You were alive. Tony had to keep reminding himself of that. You were alive but in the hands of a monster. There is so much Tony wanted to say to you and the way things were left between you and him left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Tony,” Steve said. The conversation directed at him pulled him out of his thoughts. He hummed, looking at the super soldier. “We are going to find her.” Of course, they were. They were the Avengers but Tony was afraid of the state they were going to find you in.

You were extremely warm. A layer of sweat was covering your body. The doctor would place a wet towel on your forehead. It offered you some relief. “Her temperature is stable at 99.2,” she looked at the man. “We can begin.” The man smiled.

“Let’s start with a baseline,” he said. “Who is your father?” Lie. Lie. Lie. You licked your lips.

“Go to hell,” you said. His smile grew.

“It’s useless to fight it. You know the saying the truth will set you free,” There was a pressure building in your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut. Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Tony Stark,” you said. The pressure lifted on your chest.

“Who is your mother?” Lie. LIE.

“Meghan L/n,” you mumbled.

“And what happened to your dear mother?” He asked. You squeezed your hands into a fist.

“She died from cancer.” You missed her so much. He touched your cheek.

“You poor, little girl,” you flinched from his touch. “Now let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.” He let go of you. “The Avengers are hitting our facilities. Where are they hitting next?”

“I don’t know,” the pressure was slightly building on your chest. He frowned.

“Move to plan B,” he said to the doctor. “I forgot she’s a Stark. They are stubborn.” The doctor pulled out another syringe. This time she pinched your skin with a needle. It didn’t even hurt. “She just injected you with adrenaline. A mix of that with the truth serum is a deadly combination.”

“I don’t know,” you said again. “They were looking at a factory blueprint somewhere in Russia.” You never felt this weak. Your heart was thudding against your ribs. “Please,” you whispered. “I need water.” The man nodded and the doctor left the room.

“This factory,” he continued. “Tell me about it.” You squeezed your eyes shut. The image of the blueprint was engraved in your mind. You couldn’t tell him. If the Avengers were interested in this factory it must be important. HYDRA must be planning something.

“You know,” you said. “They are going to find me and when they do you are fucked.” The door opened and the doctor came back in with a cup of water. But the man grabbed it from her.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “You are still fighting it. Our other test subjects submitted much faster.” He poured the water on the ground and crushed the paper cup in his hand. “But even the strongest metals can bend. We just have to wait and we have all the time in the world together.” He opened the door and the doctor wordlessly followed him. “We will see you soon, Miss. Stark.” They left, closing the door behind him. You rested your head back looking up at the ceiling. You just needed to hold out till you were found.

Natasha needed to busy her hands. They were going through all known HYDRA associates and trying to connect it to the factory. It was slow work but it was the best option they had instead of blindly engaging. One slip-up could alert whoever took you. So Natasha was in the kitchen making a sandwich. “Hey,” she turned to look at her sister. “How are you?” Yelena was one of the few people at the compound that knew of the relationship between you and Natasha.

“I’m fine,” the blonde rolled her eyes and opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Bullshit,” she said. “It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister.” Natasha cut the sandwich in half and handed one half to Yelena. They sat down at the table. Natasha took a few bites of her sandwich. It tasted bitter in her mouth.

“I feel useless,” she told her sister. “We have no leads and the longer she’s with them the worse it will be.” Yelena finished her half and Natasha pushed her half so she could eat it.

“We’ll find her and then you can tell her that you love her,” Natasha kicked her sister underneath the table. “Ouch, that hurt,” she whined. “It’s the truth!” Natasha sighed.

“I know, I know,” she rubbed her hands against her face. “She’s just had a lot going on and no time seemed right.” You were so focused on your work and then the issue with Tony came up. Yelena smiled.

“That’s the thing. This life is so uncertain no time will seem right. You just have to tell them before it's too late,” Natasha was surprised at how much Yelena has healed from the hands of the Red Room.

“Widow 1 and Widow 2,” Clint said. Natasha looked at her oldest friend. “We have a lead. Come on.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you opened your eyes. The man was in front of you holding your head up. “How are we doing?”

“Bad,” you said. “Bad.” Everything hurt and you were so hungry. He removed his hand and your head fell to the side. A new set of hands touched your face. It was the doctor. She whipped your face with a wet towel and an alcohol pad to clean up the dried blood on your face. You weren’t sure when your nose started bleeding.

“Are you ready to be good and tell me what I want to know?” You nodded. “Tell me about the factory.” You licked your lips.

“I saw the blueprints for a split second and the words were in Russian,” You let out a shaky breath. “But it mentioned that the factory was on a lake and that is where it got its power from,” you had to admit you were surprised that HYDRA was so into clean energy. “That’s all I know.” The man nodded and the doctor put a cup to your lips. You almost sobbed as the cold water touched your lips. “Thank you,” you said when the cup was dry. The man smiled.

“Of course, you’ve been very good to us.” He pulled out a phone and sent a text message with the information provided. “Do you know when they plan to attack?” You shook your head.

“No, but their priorities shifted when you kidnapped me.” The man put his phone away.

“Are we good to move on to phase 2?” He asked the doctor. She nodded.

“Her vitals are stable and she’s the strongest test subject we’ve had.” She moved a rolling table over to her with a briefcase on it.

“Miss. Stark, I do appreciate your willingness to be part of our experiment,” she opened the briefcase. “Our lovely doctor has been fascinated with mutants and how to turn normal people into one.” She took out a big needle with red liquid swirled in the syringe. “Unfortunately, all of her other test subjects died. But we have strong hopes for you.” She cleaned a spot on your arm.

“Wait,” you said. “Please.” But your pleas went on deaf ears as the needle pinched your skin. You watched helplessly as the red liquid was pushed into your system. An alarm began to go off.

“Impossible,” he opened the metal door and the sound of shooting and yelling echoed against the wall. Your body felt like it was on fire. You groaned in pain. Patches of darkness began to cloud your vision. You swore you heard your name.

“Get away from her,” Was that Tony?

“It’s too late,” the doctor said. It was the first time you’d heard real emotion in her voice. “She’ll either die or be reborn into something beautiful.” You heard her yell and a crash as she fell against the table.

“Hey, squirt, can you hear me?” Tony asked. He removed the gloves from his suit and wasn’t sure where to touch you. He decided on your arms.

“D-dad?” You questioned. You weren’t sure the last time you called him that. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “We’re all here. We are going to get you home.”

“Home?” You put your head back and yelled in pain. “It hurts.” You forced out. Tears were forming at the corner of your eyes. “Dad, it hurts. Make it stop.” You sobbed.

Tony removed the IV from your arm. He felt helpless as he watched you cry in pain from whatever they did to you. The skin of your arms started to bubble and your normal eye color began to flicker from red, to green, gray, and blue. “Romanoff, Belova, I found her. Where are you?” He asked over the coms. The Black Widow sisters were given medication from Helen before they left and they were tasked with going through the office to find what they did to you.

“On our way, Stark,” Natasha said. Gun fire could be heard through the coms.

“Dad,” you mumbled. Your eyes were fluttering close.

“Hey, squirt, I need you to stay awake,” you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry.” Your eye color stopped rapidly switching. It stopped on red.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “And when we get out of here, we are going to be a family.” You smiled.

“I’d like that,” your eyes closed. The only indication that you were alive was your shallow breathing and the heart monitoring beating.

“Stark,” Tony looked at the doorway and saw Natasha and Yelena. Natasha had a vial in her hand but she was frozen as she stared at your still form. Yelena took the vital out of her sister’s hand and ran to your side.

“This should halt whatever they gave her and give us enough time to get her back to the compound.” Yelena opened the vial and tilted your head back.

“Should?” Tony questioned.

“We didn’t have a lot of time to check our work.” She poured the vial down your throat. They waited in silence for something to happen. Soon you began to cough and your eyes opened slowly. The billionaire let out a sigh.

“Lena,” you mumbled. The blonde smiled.

“Gave us quite a scare,” you laughed. Yelena moved out of the way and Natasha took her sister’s spot.

“Let’s get you home,”

You sat on a bed at the compound in their med bay. Helen said the truth serum would make its way out of your system in 24 hours. As for the mystery red injection, they were running tests on your blood and DNA to find out more. But you sneezed when Helen brought you food and almost set the doctor on fire, you had a pretty good idea of what your new ability was. You slowly ate your soup when the door to your room opened. It was Tony with a bouquet. “I thought you’d prefer this to a teddy bear,” he said, placing them on your side table.

“It’s a good choice,” he sat down in the empty chair. “Hele did tell you that the serum isn’t totally out of my system, right?” He nodded.

“She did but this conversation can’t wait,” he sighed. “I meant what I said when I told you we would be a family when we got you home. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I don’t want it. I’m sorry for not being the father you deserve. You’ve done so well on your own and I’m so proud of you,” you looked down at your soup unable to look at the man. “I’d like to earn your forgiveness if you’ll give me the chance.”

“Dammit dad,” you whispered, whipping away a few tears that fell from your eyes. “I’ve waited so long for you to say that to me. I just didn’t think me getting kidnapped would be the thing that changed your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have come to that,” you looked at him again. “I love you, squirt. You being born was the best thing that happened to me.” You held out your hand and he took it.

“Please don’t break my heart,” you said. “I don’t think I’d be able to take it.” He squeezed your hand.

“I won’t be perfect but I promise to change.” You smiled. “Now about you and Romanoff.” Your smile fell and you groaned. “I’m just messing with you.” You weren’t sure if you believed him. “Finish eating and get some rest once you heal, we'll discuss your choice in women.” You pulled your hand away from him but you didn’t miss his smile.

“You are the worst,” you said. He stood up and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m so happy you're safe.” He whispered.

You must have fallen asleep because when you woke up Natasha was sitting next to you. She was reading a poetry book. You smiled at the sight. “Hi,” you whispered. She closed the book at the sound of your voice.

“Malyshka (baby girl),” she said, standing up. You moved over to make space on the bed and she sat down next to you.

“Kiss me,” you said. “Please.” She smiled and connected your lips. You loved kissing Natasha. It was your favorite thing because each kiss was so different. Right now it was slow as if she was savoring it. When the need for air was too great, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers.

“I was so worried,” she whispered. “I was scared I’d never see you again.” You’ve never heard so much vulnerability in her voice.

“You would have found me,” you said, pulling her onto the bed so she was laying down next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder and kissed her neck. You smiled as you watched goosebumps on her skin. “I can’t lie, remember.” She chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“There is so much I want to tell you,” she said. You nodded.

“I know and we’ll talk but right now I just want you to hold me.” You felt safe in her arms. The safest you’ve felt since you woke up in that chair.

Part 3

Taglist:

@natsxwife @mymommawanda @doudouneverte

@thatgayinsomniac @catswag22 @marvelogic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #Natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x y/n stark #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x daughter!reader #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #tony stark #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #Steve Rogers

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 years ago

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Kicho's Main Story Chapter 9 Part 2

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Mitsuhide: “...........”

Mitsuhide: “You said that if the present changes, the future will change, too.”

Mitsuhide: “You knew the future and started the war here in Japan to change it?”

Kicho: “That’s right.”

Mitsuhide: “Why did you do it?”

Kicho: “If I tell you, will you change your beliefs?”

Mitsuhide: “You don’t have to ask.”

Kicho: “Then there’s no point in talking about it. I have no intention of breaking anything, either.”

Mitsuhide: “Even if you have to put that girl on the scales?”

Kicho: “...........”

Kicho’s eyes silently lose their light, like a sky covered with thick clouds.

Kicho: "What are you trying to say?"

Mitsuhide: “You now have two choices.”

Mitsuhide: “If what you said earlier is true, then Mai’s disappearance means that Japan’s future has changed.”

Mitsuhide: “In other words, the warring world will continue, just as you have intended.”

Mitsuhide: “The first option is to continue to live as a demon in this turbulent world.”

Kicho: “And the second option is to abandon the cause in the hope of eliminating it, huh?”

Mitsuhide: “That’s right. And I have only one choice.”

Mitsuhide immediately raised his gun and pointed it at Kicho.

Mitsuhide: “I choose Mai’s life over your cause.”

Mitsuhide: “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this choice.”

Mitsuhide: "What about you, Kicho?"

Kicho: "Let's see."

Mitsuhide: "!"

Bang!

One single gunshot sound echoed through the small room, and both Mitsuhide and Kicho's faces contorted as it was fired simultaneously.

Mitsuhide: "Guh..."

Kicho: "There's no choice from the start. I've already decided my path."

With blood seeping from his right shoulder, Kicho moved toward the door that had been kicked in.

Kicho: "I'll leave everything behind and move on to greater heights."

Kicho: "That's why I came back to this turbulent world."

Mitsuhide: "Wait. You..."

By the time Mitsuhide, shot in the abdomen, was about to point his gun again, Kicho had disappeared.

Motonari: "You bitch, how long are you going to resist?"

Mai: "Ouch, my feet..."

Motonari's subordinate: "Hey, don't put all your weight on me while saying that!"

Kidnapped and bound with ropes, I desperately resisted for the last time.

(Motonari said that I had to disappear.)

(Now that we've come this far into the mountains, they're either going to kill me or leave me behind without anyone knowing.)

(I guess that means I'll never make it back alive.)

(If that happens, I'll never see Kicho again.)

Motonari: "Do you want to be killed here?"

Mai: "I'm resisting because I don't want to get killed!"

Motonari: "Then, you better shut up. A defiant hostage is nothing but a nuisance."

Mai: "Hostage?"

Motonari: "Kicho didn't tell me, but I've already checked it."

Motonari: "Nobunaga is seriously understaffed for sending a princess with so many openings as a spy."

Mai: "----!"

(Motonari knows who I am, too.)

Motonari: "It looks like he's finally here."

I turned around when I heard footsteps approaching.

Motonari: "I've been waiting for you. Kennyo."

(This is the man who tried to kill Nobunaga in Honnoji.)

Kennyo: “Who’s that girl?”

Motonari: “She’s from the Oda clan. Rumor has it that she’s Nobunaga’s mistress.”

(Mistress!?)

Mai: “T-That’s not true! That’s just a rumor!”

Motonari: “Ha? What are you getting so worked up about?”

Mai: “I have no choice. That rumor is making me uneasy.”

Mai: “Also, please don’t tell Kicho that.”

Motonari: “Because you don’t want him to think you have that kind of relationship with Nobunaga?”

Motonari: “You’re awfully attached to him.”

Mai: “That’s...”

(That just came out of my mouth.)

I averted my eyes from Motonari to stop myself from saying anymore crazy things.

Motonari: “Well, I’m not interested, so I won’t ask.”

Kennyo: “But even if you exclude the rumor, she’s still from the Oda clan.”

Kennyo: “I see. That’s why she was in Honnoji that night.”

Mai: “----!”

I got goosebumps when I saw the dark, cold look in his eyes as he turned his lingering hatred toward me.

Motonari: “You made the right call by speaking to me.”

Motonari: “You can use her as a hostage to get rid of your grief from the past or whatever.”

Mai: “Waah!”

At Motonari’s order, his men pushed me, making me stagger toward Kennyo.

Bound by ropes and unable to catch myself, his strong arms supported me and pulled me straight to him.

Mai: “No, let me go!”

Kennyo: “I can’t do that.”

Kennyo: “I have nothing against you, but if you claim to be from the Oda, I can’t let you go.”

Kennyo: “I’ll use you as much as I can.”

Motonari: “There you have it. He saved your life. You’re lucky you’re worth something.”

Mai: “That doesn’t make me happy! It’s unfair that you guys are teaming up to do this!”

Motonari: “Ha? I’m not teaming up with him. I’m just looking for a place to dump you because you’re in the way.”

Motonari: “Hey, Kennyo. You still haven't given me an answer.”

Kennyo: “...........”

(What’s he talking about? It doesn't look like they're enemies, but they're not allies either.)

(Come to think of it, Motonari and Kicho were like that too.)

It was Motonari's sole decision to bring me here, and as far as I’ve heard, Kicho didn't share some of the information with Motonari either.

(They probably team up because they have the same goal, or their goals just overlap with each other.)

Mai: "What exactly are you two up to?"

Motonari: "Why do wanna know? Are you gonna talk us out of it?"

Kennyo: "You're wasting your time. If one word could change our purpose, we wouldn't be here now."

Mai: "I know that, but being ignorant is the worst thing I can do."

Motonari: "Ha! You're right. There's nothing scarier than ignorance."

Motonari: "Some people dream of unification because they're too ignorant."

Mai: "Is it wrong to dream of a peaceful future?"

Motonari: "It's not, but you'll regret it when the time comes."

Motonari: "People are ugly, greedy beasts. Nothing good will happen if they rule over others."

Motonari: "That's why it's much better to live in chaos."

(He talks like there are no good people in this world.)

(But why does he think that way?)

Motonari: "Anyway, Japan is fine the way it is. Nobody can do anything about it."

Motonari said dismissively and quickly mounted his horse.

Mai: "Wait! I'm not yet done talking!"

Motonari: "No, it's over. You can think about the rest with that tiny little head of yours."

(Ah...)

Cutting off the conversation, Motonari gestured for the horse to turn and galloped away.

(He's gone.)

Kennyo: "I have nothing to say to you."

Mai: "But you're going to hold me hostage?"

Mai: "If you're putting my life on the line, you can at least tell me what kind of demands you intend to make."

Kennyo: "No. What if you suddenly bite your tongue and kill yourself?"

Mai: "I won't do that! There's no way I'd take my own life."

Kennyo furrowed his eyebrows deeply as I denied it.

Kennyo: "You’re a strange girl. Don't you have anything called loyalty?"

Mai: "I want to be as honest as possible, but I'm not willing to die for anyone."

Mai: "Of course, I don't like the idea of someone dying for me, either."

Kennyo: "............."

Kennyo: "Then you're in deep trouble because I'm trading your body for Nobunaga's head."

Mai: "What!?"

I remember what Mitsuhide told me before.

Kennyo plotted the assassination of Nobunaga at Honnoji Temple because Nobunaga destroyed the Ishiyama Hongan-ji Temple in the past.

Mai: "Are you taking revenge?"

Kennyo: "That's right."

Kennyo: "That Demon King burned down the temple to achieve his goal of unification."

Kennyo: "Several of my comrades have lost their lives and lands, leaving them only with resentment and regret."

Kennyo: "I'll do whatever it takes to take revenge on Nobunaga."

Kennyo's expression turned even grimmer, and the scar that remained on his face became twisted.

(There is always someone else's blood and war beyond any beliefs.)

(And even if you survive, your heart will be shattered.)

I'd seen it with my own eyes, if only for a short while.

These were the times when one couldn't live without getting hurt, surrounded by the word justice.

It was too difficult just to stay alive and hold on to one's own will.

That's why...

Mai: "We need to end this warring world even more so."

Kennyo: "What are you mumbling all of a sudden?"

Mai: "I realized that even though we have words, they mean nothing in the face of military force."

Mai: "It's not yet too late for us to talk and get to know each other before making a decision."

Mai: "Because if one of us points a weapon at the other first, it's gonna be hard to talk anymore."

I'd rather stay ignorant, but I can't go back now.

I'm no longer a bystander.

------------Flashback------------

Kicho: “My goal of a peaceful world was wrong.”

Kicho: “If people are not tormented by war, they will forget the value of life.”

Kicho: “It’s only in this turbulent world that we can properly fulfill the meaning of life.”

---------Flashback Ends---------

(That's not true.)

Mai: "If we're not tormented by war, we can remember the warmth of our words."

Mai: "We can listen to the words of someone who has the same irreplaceable life."

(I know it won't always work out that way, and it's all just my selfish idea of justice.)

(But if that opportunity gets taken away before you get to know the other person, people will remain at odds with each other for the rest of their lives.)

(They will continue to carry the wounds and contradictions they have suffered.)

Mai: "There are plenty of things you don't realize until your enemies become human."

Mai: "I learned that here."

Mai: "So I think that whoever you are dealing with before you pick up a weapon, you should speak to each other first."

Kennyo: "..........."

Mai: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that as a sermon to you."

Mai: "I just saw what was happening and thought about it."

Kennyo: "Yeah."

Kennyo nodded slowly, his face still contorted as he leaned slightly on his staff, a clear, crisp sound echoing.

Kennyo: "My goal is still to take revenge."

Kennyo: "We've already hurt each other and lost so much. The man I believed to be human turned out to be a demon king, and I turned out to be a demon."

Kennyo: "There's no turning back now. Everything is covered with blood, and this road leads to hell."

Mai: "I understand."

Kennyo: “But there are still others who haven’t been deprived and can turn back.”

Mai: “You mean the townspeople? There’s a riot going on now.”

Kennyo: “You know about it?”

Mai: “Not all of it, but I’ve seen it.”

Mai: “There were fires everywhere, and people were screaming. It was pretty much like hell.”

Kennyo: “Then, what would you do?”

Mai: “I...”

(There’s not much I can do by myself.)

(I know that, but一)

Mai: “I want to stop it. I’ll do what I can to stop it.”

Kennyo: “I see. Then...”

Kennyo suddenly drew the sword, hidden in his staff, and一

Slash!

He cut the rope binding me.

Mai: “Are you sure you want to let me go?”

Kennyo: “A hostage will just slow me down. Also, I have to take my disciples and go to town.”

Mai: “Are you going to stop the riots?”

Mai: “This could be your chance to get revenge, you know?”

Kennyo: “Are you really saying that to me?”

Kennyo: “There are just too many of them to take to hell. That’s all.”

Mai: “Kennyo...”

No matter how noble your words are and how many times you say them to a stranger, you can’t easily move their hearts.

But in Kennyo’s case, there may have already been hesitation deep in his heart.

Mai: “Um...”

Mai: “If there’s anything I can help you with in the future, please let me know.”

Kennyo: “Does that mean you’ll volunteer to be a hostage?”

Mai: “Except that.”

Kennyo: “You become even weirder every time I talk to you.”

Sighing, Kennyo put his sword back and hit the ground twice.

Soon, armed, black-clad men came running out from the nearby trees.

Disciple 1: “Lord Kennyo, we’ve been keeping an eye on it as you ordered us to.”

Kennyo: “Yeah, how’s the situation in town?”

Disciple 2: “It’s spreading fast.”

Disciple 2: “The rioters are setting fire to houses one after another and marching to a poorly guarded branch castle on the outskirts of town.”

Kennyo: “I see. Then we’ll split up and handle it.”

He listened to the reports and gave instructions to each of them.

(I can’t let this happen. I have to act too.)

Mai: “Excuse me! I’ll try not to slow you down, so will you let me come with you?”

Kennyo: “Are you going to jump into a dangerous place by yourself unarmed?”

Mai: “Yes. I can’t fight, but I can help you with the rescue.”

Mai: “Besides, I want to find Kicho and talk to him directly.”

Kennyo: “That man?”

Mai: "Please! I'll do my best."

Mai: "If you feel like I'm in the way, you can just leave me there!"

As I repeatedly bowed my head, Kennyo stopped me with his hand.

Kennyo: "In any case, it's still dangerous to leave a girl here alone."

Kennyo: "Follow me."

Mai: "Thank you!"

(Wherever you are, I'll surely find you.)

(I'm going to stop you, Kicho.)

Boom!

Man 1: "Hey, get out of there! You'll get caught in the middle of it!"

Woman: "No! My baby is still trapped inside."

Man 1: "Give up! You're going to die too!"

Man 2: "What are you guys doing? Do you want to get burned?"

Woman: "But!"

Kicho: "Oi."

Townspeople: "----!"

Kicho: "You hold up that end over there and push that pillar down there with me."

Man 1: "Okay, fine!"

Kicho: "Now, on the count of three, put your strength into it."

Kicho: "One, two, three!"

Woman: "There's an opening!"

The woman frantically reached out her arm and rescued a child trapped between the crushed houses.

Woman: "Thank goodness."

Man 1: "Thank you. Wait, you're hurt!"

Woman: "It's true. Your face is so pale, and your shoulder is bleeding."

Kicho: "It's nothing serious."

Shrugging off the voices of concern, Kicho quickly walked away, exhaling painfully with each step and looking up at the hellish scene.

Kicho: "I can't just stop here."

Kicho: "This is the path I've decided to take."

(A bloody letter that never gets delivered.)

Where did I go wrong?

What should I have done? I know that thinking about it and regretting it now won't make any difference because I chose this path for myself.

To choose something means to abandon something.

I know that too.

I've spilled too much blood, but I can't stop thinking about all the possibilities that don't exist.

What would that girl say to me now?

What expression would she make, and how would she touch me?

I should've talked to her. I should've faced her.

Mai was the only one who tried to see all of me, not just a part of me.

I never thought that would be the last time.

--Kicho

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Next Part

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kicho #ikesen kichou #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen spoilers #ikesen translations #cybird #ikesen motonari #ikesen mitsuhide

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niragis-thot · 2 years ago

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Niragi’s Favorite Toy

Part 3

Part one [X]

Part two [X] 🌶️

Niragi X female reader

Warnings: CNC, Dubious consent, smut, knife play, gun kink, and manipulative relationship in future chapters, basically everything you would expect from Niragi. Warning for threats of violence in this chapter

“You fucking dick,” you screamed. You cursed yourself for having fallen for this. “You really slept with me just to steal my gun”

“Don’t get me wrong princess, I wanted that sweet pussy too. And don’t act like you didn’t get anything out of it when you were just whimpering on my dick two minutes ago.”

“Then just fucking take it and go.” You just wanted this interaction to end, but he seemed to be savoring your discomfort.

“Tell you what. Since we had so much fun in that game together, I’ll give you an option to get it back. You can give me everything useful you have, all your ammo, plus your cards, and walk away now. Or you come with me, join the militant corps, and I get to keep you as my plaything.” He used the tip of his gun to poke underneath your chin, “We could have so much more fun together.”

“What’s the militant corps?” damn it y/n you thought to yourself. You should be handing your things over before running away as quickly as possible, not seriously considering this offer.

“We work to keep the peace at the Beach. Which by the way has hot showers, food, a clean bed, oh and a 24/7 pool party.”

You thought about how hard it had been to find food here, what games you had barely escaped death in before finding your shotgun. You thought about how you had slept the past couple of days outdoors because even though you could still get into your old apartment, it felt impossible to fall asleep in the hot summer with no air conditioning. You just had to play sex toy to this deranged man, and you could get all the things you needed to survive these games. And that didn’t seem too difficult given how attractive he was. You knew you shouldn’t be trusting anything he said, but if there was even a chance of a better life here you should take it.

“You know you could have just led with the hot shower part and nearly every person would say yes to that” you raised your hands up before walking up to him. “It would be a lot easier to follow you if you stopped pointing that at me” He didn’t lower the gun though.

Right then his radio went off “Hey Niragi, some of us have actually been working while you fuck around. Get over here and help us load up.”

You walked a few blocks away where three of the men from the game were raiding a police station. “Alright Y/N, I’d like you to meet our boss Aguni”

The muscular man wearing camo and a black tank top looked up, “What’s this about Niragi”

“Don’t look at me like that, I was just busy getting us another weapon. He handed the shotgun to him. “Plus you know from the last meeting we’ve had a higher than average casualty rate at the beach this week. Hatter’s gonna need some fresh blood to collect cards for him.”

Aguni gave him the side eye, “How altruistic,” he quipped sarcastically. That was enough to tell Niragi to start working loading the car up.

That was another surprise for today since you hadn’t known there were any working cars here.

When they were done Niragi got in the passenger seat before turning to wink at you. “Full car, guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” You guessed that arguing to squeeze between the guys in the back seat wasn’t going to fly.

You climbed onto him and he wrapped his arms around you, immediately beginning to tease at your thigh.

Niragi talked with the tattooed man wearing a tattered hoodie, you think he had referred to him as Last Boss, they sharedtheir exploits from the past couple of games. Although it was Niragi who did 90% of the talking. Last Boss seemed like someone who barely talked, while Niragi seemed like he was in love with hearing his own voice.

Then the conversation shifted to the hearts game. “You should have seen her. Girl was knocked out cold and Y/n just kept loosing it. I bet she would have bashed her entire face in if there were a few more seconds on the timer.”

You blushed and started stuttering. Had you really been that out of control that you didn’t notice when the girl went unconscious? “Oh, I…”

“Sheesh.” Niragi interrupted, “you better not be about to apologize. You did great. There’s no place for the weak in this world.”

“She would have done the same thing to me if she were able to.” You muttered.

“Now you’re getting it princess.”

When you arrived at the beach you still couldn’t believe a place like this existed in this world. Aguni led the way through the pool area where people were drunk, partying, playing loud music, and you think you even spotted someone getting their dick sucked.

One man cheered as he saw the militants walk in, “I knew I picked the right team to bet on”

“That’s because you always bet the safe way. Let’s not include Aguni’s group next time and see how your win streak does”

“They left with four and came back with five, I should win double”

Were these people betting on who would die or survive in the games? You didn’t have time to eavesdrop anymore as Niragi was dragging you along.

“Welcome to paradise baby.” He whispered in your ear. You were starting to feel like the risk you were taking coming here might be worth it.

From there you were taken to the gift store which was filled with swimwear. Niragi gave you the run down that everyone at the beach was required to wear swimsuits. You wondered if he might be messing with you to get you to walk around half naked, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the core militant group not wearing one.

You looked through the racks a bit before Niragi announced, “This one is going to look ravishing on you.” He held up an impossibly small red bikini with lots of straps.

You guessed that he didn’t intend to let you pick one out for yourself.

He leaned in and kissed your neck, “I’ve got some militant business to take care of. Go up to my room and put this on.”

You nodded, and were surprised that he was leaving you alone. It seemed like all evening he had either had his gun pointed at you, or was grabbing your wrist to drag you along. He didn’t seem to trust that just because you said you were coming with him you wouldn’t turn and bolt at the first chance.

Then you saw that just outside the room Last Boss had been hunched over while watching you. So you weren’t being left alone after all. He didn’t say a single word to you as you walked up the stairs.

Your first shower since arriving in the borderlands felt like heaven. Every ache in your body melted away under the heat. The past couple of weeks you had only been able to clean yourself with bottled water and a sponge. Just having this one basic thing felt like regaining a bit of your humanity.

Afterwards you looked at yourself in the mirror with you new outfit. The red straps that sat above your hip bones really emphasized your curves, but what really stood out to you was how every hickey that Niragi had left on your body was completely visible. He had made sure everyone was going to know.

When he got back to the room you were sitting up in bed. For once he wasn’t talking, instead he just stared you down with those dark eyes while he hovered over you. There was something predatory about it. Like you were prey and he was about to devour you.

He climbed over you licked your neck, followed by planting a long kiss on your lips. “I’m so mesmerized by my new toy,” he said before rolling off of you. He cupped your face gently in his hand “I picked up a few things to help get you settled in here.” Where had this sweet side suddenly come from?

You went over to the bag he had brought in. He had gotten you some makeup and a bar of Chocolate.

“Thank you,” you said while crawling back into bed again.

Niragi pulled you into him and began to stroke your hair. “Get some sleep, you’ll need meet Hatter in the morning, and the executives will want to test you”

You curled up next to him. Being with him felt so exciting, but also dangerous. He wasn’t the type of guy you’d go for back in the real world, but in this one where you were probably going to die in the next week anyways you wanted to chase that bad boy fantasy.

Once you could tell Niragi was asleep you felt alone with your thoughts for the first time that day. The pit in your stomach grew when you thought about the girl. Your mind kept coming up with scenarios of how you could have found the extra chairs first, and no one would have died. As if replaying those thoughts would somehow change the past. But how could you have known to look for them?

You clung to the man who told you that you didn’t do anything wrong.

#niragi suguru #niragi x you #niragi x y/n #niragi x reader #niragi fanfiction #niragi alice in borderland

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multifandomfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Tome Chapter 5

TITLE: Tome Chapter 5 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 5/? SUMMARY: Cathrin is the Armorer’s foundling and future Alor of the Covert. But what happens when she makes the decision to abandon the Covert and leave with Din and the Child?

Cathrin stayed back at the village while Cara and Din went to investigate the raiders.

They came back with less than stellar news.

“Bad news. You can’t live here anymore,” Din told them.

Cathrin mentally face-palmed. This man had no idea how to interact with civilians.

“Nice bedside manner,” Cara muttered.

“You think you can do better?”

“Can’t do much worse.” Cara stepped forward. “I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options.”

“You took the job,” one of the villagers said.

“Yeah. That was before we knew about the AT-ST.”

“What is that?”

“The armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn’t tell us.”

The villagers started arguing.

“We have nowhere to go,” Omera told them.

“Sure you do. This is a big planet. I mean, I’ve seen a lot smaller,” Cara said.

“My grandparents seeded these ponds,” one of the villagers said.

“It took generations.”

“I understand. I do. But there are only two of us. Three if you count the kid.”

It took Cathrin a second to realize Cara was talking about her. Din must have told her that Cathrin had never seen real battle.

“No, there’s not. There’s at least 20 here,” a villager argued.

“I mean fighters. Be realistic.”

“We can learn!” “We can!” “Give us a chance!” “Please.”

“I’ve seen that thing take out entire companies of soldiers in a matter of minutes,” Cara told them.

“We’re not leaving,” Omera reiterated.

“You cannot fight that thing.”

“Unless we show them how,” Din said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Din and Cara immediately launched into a battle strategy.

Cathrin thought it was fascinating watching how their minds worked.

“You got two problems here. You got the bandits and you got the mech. We’ll handle the AT-ST, but you gotta protect us when they come out of the woods. And I don’t have to tell you how dangerous they are. Cara Dune here was a veteran. She was a drop soldier for the Rebellion and she’s gonna lay out a plan for you, so listen carefully,” Din told them. He turned it over to Cara.

“Now, there’s nothing on this planet that can damage the legs on this thing, so we’re gonna build a trap. We’re gonna need to dig real deep, right here, so that when it steps in, it drops. The two of us will hit their camp. Provoke them. That’ll bring the fight out of the woods and down here to us.”

“I’m gonna need you to cut down trees and build barricades around these edges. I need it high enough so that they can’t get over and strong enough that it can’t break through. Okay. Who knows how to shoot?”

Omera was the only one to raise her hand.

The villagers got to work executing Din and Cara’s plan and training.

“What about me?” Cathrin asked.

“You’re going to stay with the children,” Din told her.

“What! I…I can help!”

“No, this is too dangerous for you.”

“I’m wearing Beskar. Same as you.”

“You have no experience with battle.”

“Then how am I supposed to learn?”

“The answer is no.”

Cathrin wanted to cross her arms over her chest and stomp her foot like a child, but she didn’t.

Din sighed. “You are under my protection. I cannot let anything happen to you. You are the future…”

“I don’t care about that! I don’t care about being the new Alor! I came with you by my own free will to experience the world. You don’t owe me anything.”

Din put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay with the children. Take care of the kid.”

Cathrin stomped off towards the children as Din started pulling out weapons.

Why had she even bothered coming along if Din was just going to treat her like a glorified babysitter?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun started to set, so Din and Cara started off for the raiders’ camp.

Cathrin heard the thundering footsteps of the AT-ST.

The footsteps stopped. It hadn’t fallen. Had the raiders surrendered already?

Cathrin handed the baby to Winta. “Stay here, okay? Do not under any circumstances leave this hut.”

Winta nodded.

Cathrin burst out of the hut and ran towards the battle. She arrived just in time to see the AT-ST lumber out of the woods.

It stopped right before it stepped over the ditch they had dug.

She ran towards the mech.

“Cathrin!” Din yelled. Din got up and ran after her. He caught her around the waist and started to pull her back when something happened.

As if pulled by an invisible force, the AT-ST was yanked forward and fell to the ground.

Cathrin went limp in Din’s arms. He dragged her over to the barricade. He pulled off his glove and placed his fingers on her neck.

Her pulse was normal and she was breathing.

“What the hell was that?” Cara asked him.

He didn’t know, but it looked an awful like what the kid could do.

#din djarin #din djarin imagines #din djarin fanfiction #cara dune #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #star wars #sanctuary #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine

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poorlytunedukulele · 2 years ago

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Prompt 24 - Spring Cleaning

April 03, 2873; The Last City, Earth

“Really, you’d think this would be the other way around,” Azra mused.

Spark didn’t answer. He was too busy sorting through a pile of shoulder guards, muttering to himself. Azra had perched herself on an ammo crate, watching with some bemusement as he bustled back and forth.

Azra continued. “I mean you’re the Ghost and I’m the Guardian. Aren’t you supposed to be the sensible one?”

“I’m being sensible,” Spark said huffily.

He was not being sensible. They were supposed to be cleaning out their Vault, but he’d been insisting on keeping more than they dismantled. Sometimes it was genuine thought for the future, but mostly it was just sentimental.

“Okay,” Azra challenged. “How about these?” She slapped her hand down on a stack of Golden Age nature magazines piled next to her.

“Careful with those,” Spark scolded. He darted over and levitated one gently.

“You have scans of all of them,” Azra argued.

“There’s a difference between looking at a projection and being able to handle something. I can’t recreate the colors faithfully-“

“If we donate them to an archive, we could go look at them whenever we wanted,” Azra said. (Which would probably be never- she hadn’t cast more than a cursory glance at the magazines in two years).

“Yeah, well,” Spark said.

Azra tilted her chin and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Fine, fine,” he relented. “Well donate the magazines.”

“And the leg armor?” she said.

“We already sorted through the leg armor,” Spark said.

“I don’t need a set specifically for rock climbing.”

Spark spun his shell. “What if we get into a situation-“

“Then I’ll deal with it,” Azra said. “We’ll deal with it. I feel you’re wasting more time and effort trying to prepare for everything than we’d spend just handling things as they come up.”

“We’re finally at a place where we’re good enough,” Spark lamented. “After scraping by so long, we finally have options and you want to just throw them all away.”

“I don’t need six different helmets,” Azra said soothingly. “I know it seems important, but it’s just stuff, Spark.”

The Ghost grumbled to himself and transmatted away the magazines. Azra, feeling a little apologetic, moved to help sort the equipment stacked behind them. A set of old bowstrings, wax flaking off; a folded pile of House Devils bannercloth; the remote for Andal’s movie projector.

“That’s where that went,” Spark said. “I’d forgotten we lost it.”

“We should really clean this out more often,” Azra commented. She removed an old, threadbare cloak and came face-to-face with something else she’d forgotten.

A rocket launcher, still shinny-new and perfect under the dust. Silver feathers, a golden wolf’s head. The maker’s mark from Crux/Lomar was still there under the barrel. She hadn’t even taken it out for a test run when she’d gotten it.

Amidst her reverie, someone pressed a gun into her hands. No, not a gun, a rocket launcher. Shining gold and silver, a feathered wolf's head. She looked up, confused, to see an Exo there (blue optics, yellow details). He was one of the several people moving down the lines, passing out… rocket launchers? "Made from the armor of those who fell," the Exo rasped.

Azra was immediately repulsed. She didn't want it. She opened her mouth to say as such, but the Exo had moved on down the line. Her fingers fidgeted on the detailing. Whose armor was this, then? It was too macabre for her tastes, wielding a weapon made from a dead person's gear. The gun was gleaming and new, like the ceremonial armor they all wore. Azra couldn't wait to get back into her dented, scratched gear. Newness felt like a farce.

“Lots of old things in here,” Spark said. He lit down on Azra’s shoulder gently.

It had only been two years, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Traveler, she’d been so scared, so lost.

They were in a better place now. They had friends, they had their Pack. Age had given her more perspective on the dark, desperate events of Twilight Gap. Before, she’d been horrified at the rocket launcher, supposedly made from the armor of those who’d given their lives. It had felt grotesque with the smell of blood still practically in her nose. Now, she traced a finger along the wolf’s wing and felt… gratitude. She hadn’t asked Miles-4 to die for her. They hadn’t asked Shaxx to take up his certain-to-fail mission to hold the line. But he had and he did, and now Azra and the City were still here.

Back then, if she had died her final death, it would have been in confusion and grief. She hadn’t understood what sacrifice meant. But now she had things she treasured more than life itself; she knew what it was like to look death in the eye and stand firm instead of turning to run.

“Let’s say we take a break and go fire some rockets at House Winter,” Azra suggested.

Spring cleaning had gotten tiresome. “Deal.”

AO3 Linky!

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destcember #destcember2022 #destiny fanfiction #just me having Twilight Gap Thoughts again

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rosieshipper · 2 years ago

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Revamping my red dead self insert

So this is my new self insert for red dead. Her name is Rose Delgado

Rose was originally born into a small family on a farm, she had a loving mother but an alcoholic father who was normally abusive towards her and her mom. One night when she was eight, her father came home in a drunken rage and started a fight with her mother. The fight only escalated into violence and in the fight, her father knocked over some lit candles which eventually set the entire house ablaze. Rose was able to escape thanks to her mother, but in the end, both her mother and father were consumed by the flames

In the next year, Rose was resorted to having to steal and pickpocket from others just to survive. One day while in a market place, she managed to pickpocket these two men (Dutch and Hosea) before she was suddenly caught by them and chased down an alleyway. Once cornered, Rose pulled a knife on them and threatened to kill them both, but instead of being met with anger, she was met by the two of them being impressed by her skills of managing to steal from them both. So they offered to let her stay with them in their camp and in turn she would help them with her pickpocketing skills. Seeing as she had no other options, she took the deal

From there she was taken back to the camp and was raised alongside Arthur and John (Arthur being in his early 20s and John being 10) Over the years, Rose became a proper outlaw, learning how to shoot a gun, ride a horse and steal from the rich and unworthy. And eventually she became one of the group’s best gunslingers

Later on in her early 20s after the massacre in blackwater, Rose meets a grief stricken woman with a sense of vengeance on the men who killed her husband. Rose is tasked with helping her feel more comfortable in the camp and over the time, some feelings are shared between the two women

So yeah, Dutch and Hosea are her dads, Arthur and John are her brothers and Sadie is her future girlfriend

Tags: @astralshipper @aricka-and-her-fictional-others @magicalpuppyprincess @wolfofthedead

#I had to write this post twice because tumblr ate it the first time #self shipping #self ship #selfshipping #self ship community #self insert #selfship community #f/o #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #john marston #sadie adler #otp: bounty hunters and outlaws

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mayra-quijotescx · 1 year ago

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I'm an avid reader of Ask A Manager since I got my first pangs of 'fuck this place actually' at [REDACTED FORMER JOB] in 2019 and wanted to learn how to resume/interview/etc at my best. I still check it from time to time, both for entertainment and to see if there's good advice about Situations similar to what I'm in currently or may face.

So I found advice about an analogous situation to the awkward one I found myself in earlier today, where I learned mid-interview that I was applying for a position with the state. In the analogous situation, the applicant was in the early stages of transition. AAM basically said there's two ways you can address needing to know if your company is going to prioritize political horseshit over their potential employees' wellbeing;

"...waiting to raise [concern] until the offer stage makes it harder for an employer to openly discriminate against you, since if they pull the offer, it’s going to be pretty clear why they pulled it. (This is also why people are also usually advised to wait for the offer to stage to raise that they’re pregnant, need a reasonable accommodation for a disability or a religious practice, or so forth.) But on the other hand, that could put you in a position where you could end up working somewhere that turns out to be unwelcoming or even hostile. (But I do think you’ll get some data simply from the way they respond when you bring it up, and could use that to make a decision.)

So the other option is to raise it at the interview stage, just like you might ask about anything else regarding their culture or other things that are important to you to screen for in an employer. (For example: “I want to let you know that I’m transgender and in the process of transitioning. Can you give me a sense of how LGBT-friendly the office culture is?”) This option carries the risk that if they do want to discriminate against you, they could just not offer you the job and you wouldn’t know that this was the reason — but if you’re comfortable deciding that you wouldn’t want to work for a company like that anyway, then this could be the way to go."

So I have that other approach (wait til job offer) for future attempts, but tbh there was a lot else going on in today's interview that was... informative, let's say, so I don't feel embarrassed at having jumped the gun.

#the person supposedly running the interview and who had scheduled it didn't have her notes w/her and made several mistakes #while also being really brisk about my concerns and passive aggressive about my current line of work.#and she managed to fit all of that into 27 minutes despite being only 1 of the 5 participants. It was nearly impressive.#but hey I've done hiring interviews from the other side. I know they're challenging.#I also know that as the interviewer you have your notes with you before starting the interview along with an idea of what to say/ask

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vsagis · 3 months ago

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While game theory itself is often misidentified or mistaken with similarly named game studies, the term the prisoner's dilemma does make a lightbulb go off in many's heads. The only more recognizable thought experiment would be the trolley problem, but that's mixing mathematics with psychology.

Not that these aren't connected, as everyone is about to be reminded.

It seems the villain's mind is already engaged with an idea borne seconds into the future. "Anywhere's fine," the man says as he waves his hand towards nothing in particular, his feet carrying him to the side, where an empty chair stands. Assuming that he's planning to do something with it would be correct, because soon Izuku's pushing it to the middle of the room and, once that's done, steps aside as if offering the captive a seat. What a kind host you are, Usagi, a more outspoken man could say to that.

Izuku doesn't mind the ones that bite, and he would laugh. It's much more interesting this way. Maybe some other day.

Once this toothless dog is pushed onto the chair, Izuku approaches again and squats in front of the other man with a glimmer in his eye that has never spelled fortune. "All right," he hums, arms close to his body in a spurious promise of nonviolence. "I'm gonna level with you here, pal. You fucked up." Nothing new so far, but it does sound out of character for somebody like him, falling back on words interwoven by not a single threat.

As it turns out, stating a fact too carries just enough weight. The hero's eyes widen when he connects the dots and everything hidden in between, and his mouth parts, ready to promise everything and anything that could grant him safety. It's Izuku's finger raised that makes the other man shut his mouth; it comes paired with a firm but quiet "Not yet."

"Don't get too sad on me now," the villain coos as a smile creeps up onto his lips, "We didn't kill everyone."

If Izuku's calculated everything right, which he usually does, the scout-hero should be coming to. Not the best way to wake up, tightly bound and gagged with a glove, but there's definitely room for worse.

"I'm about to give you an offer, and then I'm going to tell your invisible friend the exact same thing. A pretty annoying guy, by the way," he throws in. "Anyway. There's two options for you here: you either talk or not. There's two outcomes too: you either leave or not." And now for that magical amalgamate of sciences... "You know where I'm going with this?"

Most of the time this is all it takes. No need to paint out the whole picture. And still...

"I'll tell you anyway. Equal opportunity, right?" Izuku pauses, head tilting to the side in a birdlike manner as he observes the hero. "If neither of you talks, nobody gets to leave. If you talk and your friend doesn't, you get to leave, and he doesn't. If both of you talk, however, you might leave, but probably not unaided." And this is how the thing works: each agent gets a higher reward for betraying the other. If Dumb Suit keeps his mouth shut, Invisible Guy should talk. If Dumb Suit talks, so should Invisible Guy, because bruises and broken bones are better than death, and the same reasoning goes the other way around.

What neither may realize is that Izuku's never said he's, too, going to play by these rules.

"So what do you say?"

"Please," (Wrong answer), the hero shakes his head. "We don't have to do this. I could keep you safe," he keeps talking, spitting out words like a machine gun, afraid that if he stops, he will never be allowed to speak again. "Just let us go, and I promise I'll make sure Usagi doesn't retaliate. I can—" But the man's promises are met with a laugh and a shake of the villain's head.

"Nah, I don't think so. Hard to exact revenge on myself," Izuku then says and turns to look at Seph over his shoulder. "What do you think? Should we give him a moment and talk to the other one now?"

PERSEPHONE IS SILENT as they follow behind midoriya with the hero slung over her shoulder. if there's one good thing about having a six-foot-four bodyguard hanging around, it's that they can carry a lot of shit for you — bodies included. this particular situation is not out of the ordinary for seph; it's a role she takes on for fletch often, though usually, hector is the one who extracts information for them.

"extracting information" usually means torture.

she can't imagine what else might be happening here, though who knows? midoriya's a pretty smooth talker — perhaps he'll just interrogate them and kill them nicely. all things considered, he could have treated her much worse than yanking her to the floor by her hair for talking back to him. perhaps he'll surprise her. perhaps he won't.

just six months; that's all they've got to survive here. six months until they can fall back into their comfortable, terrible, numb life. hey — maybe she'll get lucky and adeo will come back in that timeframe, give her the opportunity to go out in flames before they even have to finish the stupid contract.

it's not long before seph is ghosting past izuku into whatever he calls an interrogation room and hefting the wriggling body into her arms. in the end, true to pattern, they picked the soft-looking one to keep alive. the guy looks like he could have gone to UA. his eyes are wide, doelike in their fear, and his costume is incredibly stupid. he's in over his head, but they don't get the sense that he's ready to give up his life for hero secrets. he'll talk.

❝ where should i put this clown? ❞ they ask over the sound of muffled protests. when he wriggles a bit too hard, tries to kick his fastened legs, a look of irritation flashes across her face and she fixes him with a glare that could cut glass.

that's all he needs to settle down.

#the eight precepts of death v.#ah yes my degree finally paid off: referencing maths #howlrs

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edenfenixblogs · 2 years ago

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…

So the thing that’s keeping me awake tonight…

The thing that’s keeping me awake tonight is where to live by the time my baby will start school. Part of me feels it’s stupid to worry about it this early. Assuming I get pregnant right away when I start IUI in 2-3 years (unlikely), that means moving would have to happen by 7 years from now.

However, immigration is logistically HARD and it needs to be planned far in advance. My dilemma is between physical and emotional quality of life.

My financial situation in this country is pretty good. It’ll likely be a lot harder if I move somewhere else. Also, I can work from home with good benefits and a reasonably predictable schedule. Also, very importantly, all my friends and my parents are here. My kid will already only have one parent. I want them to have as much of a support system as possible. I want them to be close to their grandparents. The idea of raising a baby far from my mom is heartbreaking and terrifying. And immigration also means I’d have to find childcare during the days while I work, which is a whole other expense I would not have here. So would school uniforms, which are not much of an expense here.

On the other hand, what if I get sick? What if baby gets sick? Where does the health insurance come from then? What about fucking gun violence? How can I live day to day knowing my kid might get gunned down at their fucking desk? Does anything else really matter when staying here means such a high level of risk for baby? When I get old, will my retirement be enough to avoid burdening baby? Here, social security is drying up, and any and all social safety nets are being gutted. Living somewhere that values social welfare, somewhere I know unexpected health complications won’t ruin my child’s and my financial future is so appealing. So is living somewhere that higher education doesn’t cost as much as a large house in a major city. And if I did stay here, where would I send my kid to school. Even with all the other risks, there’s still the other problems of public v private and the quality of schools in my area.

And if I do move, where would I go? My top two options are Scotland and Canada. I have very feasible paths to visa and citizenship in both places.

Canada is closer and means my family could be a lot more involved in baby’s life. The logistics of moving would be a lot simpler and my career means I’d end up in a pretty liberal province which is great. I do have a family member in Canada, too, which is nice. But I don’t have any particular connection to Canada, emotionally. I think I’d feel more like an outsider there. The cost of living where I’d have to end up is as high as it is where I am now, except I’d have more monthly expenses.

Scotland is very much my speed. A lot of my educational curriculum was from the UK because of IB and also just a randomly tremendous amount of British teachers. I’ve spend substantial amounts of time in the UK and in Scotland specifically. I like how many travel opportunities there are in Scotland: so many countries close by! I think I’d integrate better there. But also, there’s such high levels of antisemitism, but it’s also less likely to be deadly than the antisemitism in America, because fewer guns. The cost of living is more manageable than where I’d have to live in Canada. But maybe that’s selfish of me to consider Scotland when it’s so far away from a support system.

I have a lot of time to figure this all out. But that doesn’t make it any less important or less nerve-wracking. And I resent this country for being such a mess. I wouldn’t have to think about any of this if we just regulated guns and offered healthcare and education like most other countries. I’m so mad.

Do traditional couples or even nontraditional couples think about all this before having a baby? I feel like most Hereros don’t. Idk. I don’t have any answers right now, and probably won’t for awhile. But I needed to type it all out so I can sleep instead of having this all rattling around my head.

#SMBC journey #SMBC journey update

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avocado-writing · 2 years ago

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Crossed Paths

Part 2 of 4

| Tangerine x Reader

| Canon-Typical Violence, Excessive Use of Swears

| Eventual NSFT

| 1.8k Words

Part 1

Tag List: @queenofstarsanddarkness @venusthepirate @luhvbot @fruits1ut

Please let me know if you’d liked to be tagged for future parts!

“Oh, piss,” you mutter under your breath as you pelt it down the street. The way of the job, unfortunately, means that sometimes you do find yourself in this position. That position being that you’re chased through the winding roads of a city by the hired men of the bloke you just offed.

A bullet whizzes past your ear in a manner that is far too close for comfort.

“Oh, piss,” you repeat, with real gusto this time. The men behind you are gaining ground. You’re running out of options. It’s your own fault, you suppose, for not planning ahead. It should have been nice and easy - get in, kill the punter, get out again.

Which, to be fair, you did do. He’d owed some cunt money for too long, and that cunt wanted him dead. He wasn’t expecting you to climb in through his toilet window and strangle him to death while he was dropping the kids off at the pool. And you weren’t expecting him to have hired a fucking squad of bodyguards, one of whom heard the kerfuffle and opened the shitter door to find the last seconds of life slipping from him.

So, you’re running.

This is bad, though. You’re close to the end of the road and have no better options for getting away. Christ, what you’d give for a cyclist with their guard down, or one of those poncy electric scooters they’ve installed all over London.

How your heart aches for home.

You’re so wrapped up in your pining it takes you a second to register the car doing a one-eighty in front of you. You’re only shocked into realisation when the back door is thrown open and you see a familiar face behind it.

“Get in the fucking car,” Tangerine says. There’s no time for arguing or witty banter, so for once you do as you’re told and comply.

Tangerine moves in for a kiss.

Your eyes widen as you find his body in such close proximity, the press of his chest up against yours, the feel of hot breath blown onto your neck. A bead of sweat runs down from his hairline - a wild mess now, a stark contrast to how carefully groomed he was before.

You close your eyes and part your lips.

The sound of the car door slamming behind you throws you back into reality as he pulls back. It accelerates hard as you begin to drive away.

Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. Stupid. Not a kiss then.

“Get down,” he barks, a hand on your shoulder roughly pushing you out of sight from the car window. He aims a gun over your head and starts to fire. The sound of the bullet leaving the chamber is quickly followed by a rain of glass into your hair.

“Careful!” you snap, but he doesn’t respond. Instead he keeps firing, shot after shot, steady and sure. From your position down here - remarkably close to his lap - you can see another holster at his hip, and the second gun inside it. You reach across him and grab it.

“Oi!” he says, caught off guard by your brazenness, but doesn’t stop you from joining him in the shootout. There’s another car behind you, now, as well as a motorcycle to the side. You sigh, hold your breath to keep your hands from shaking too hard, and fire.

The bullet hits the gas tank of the cycle and it’s engulfed in a ball of flame. Tangerine raises an eyebrow, nods, impressed, and changes his sights to be out of the rear window.

“Can you two be a bit more fucking careful?!” Lemon shouts from the driver’s seat - because of course Lemon is in the driver’s seat, who else would it be - “This is my car!”

“Sorry darlin’,” you say at the same time as Tangerine replies, “Oh, you can get a new fucking car.”

Lemon rolls his eyes and floors the accelerator. You’re at risk of losing your balance, but Tangerine’s arm snakes out and wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to the seat.

A quick glance over shows his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

He has a beautiful throat.

From out the sunroof of the car behind you, one of the men you recognise as a bodyguard stands, aiming a machine gun.

“Oh, piss,” you mutter for the umpteenth time that day, as you and Tangerine fire in unison. This doesn’t look good. The two lads don’t seem to have packed anything heavier than handguns, and you’re sure this car is already riddled with bullet holes.

Great. Not only are you going down, you’re dragging these two down with you.

You try to hide the look of anguish that crosses your face for a split second, but you’re sure Tangerine notices it.

“Hang on!” Lemon shouts as a line of bullets rip their way through the car boot. You risk a glance out of the front windscreen.

A little laugh bubbles up out of you as you see what you’re fast approaching. A bridge. A bascule bridge. A bascule bridge which is currently beginning to rise.

“You’re having a giraffe,” you mutter, too incredulous to even shout it over the gunfire.

“I did tell you to hang on,” Lemon replies through gritted teeth, miraculously overhearing you. As the gap between the two halves of the bridge gets larger, you watch Lemon try and squeeze every mile-per-hour he can out of the engine as you drive up the quickly steepening incline.

The car fucking flies through the air, physics apparently forgotten, as it leaves one half of the bridge and makes the crossing to the other.

You land heavily, with a jolt that would have slammed you into the car roof, if Tangerine wasn’t holding you in place for dear life.

You look over your shoulder.

The tailing car is gone. They didn’t make it after you.

For a few moments, the only sound in the car is three sets of heavy breathing. You’re the one to break it.

“Exceptional driving, Lemon,” you say. You see him grin at the compliment.

“Passed on my first test with no minors,” he replies, a bit smug. The adrenaline leaving your body manifests as a laugh and you collapse back into Tangerine in a fit of giggles.

His arm stays at your waist.

After a few minutes, making sure nobody else is following, he pulls into a side road.

“Right,” Lemon announces, “let’s see what they’ve done to this car then. You two play nice.”

“Lemon? Thanks for getting me,” you say, just before he leaves the car. His smile is more genuine this time.

“Any time, darling.”

You hear muffled swearing as he starts to take in the damage. You look over to Tangerine.

His face is surprisingly hard to read. It looks like there’s something he wants to say to you, but god knows what it might be. The moment is gone when his brow furrows.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh shit, am I?”

Your hand goes to the side of your head, where he’s staring. Your fingers come away wet and warm. You sigh. Seems like your ear was clipped. Now you’re out of the heat of the moment, the pain is beginning to set in.

Tangerine must see it in your face, because he starts to take off his suit jacket. You’re confused for a moment until you see him bundle it up and go to hold it to your wound, a makeshift gauze. You pull away.

“I don’t want to wreck your suit, T.”

He doesn’t seem upset about the shortening of his name, just rolls his eyes at you.

“Look, I’m trying to do something fucking nice here,” he says, but it’s surprisingly gentle.

Relenting, you let him press the fabric against you. His spare hand cups your face to keep you still while he tries to stem the bleeding.

It seems almost too intimate to lock eyes this close to each other. His gaze falls down to your lap, where something catches his eye.

“Is that a West Ham tattoo?”

Ah, bollocks. You look down to your forearm where the coverup foundation has begun to rub off. You try to cover up the tattoo as much as possible on jobs. Doesn’t do well for assassins to have such an obvious identifier.

But you’ve never had the heart to get it removed, either.

“Don’t tell me you’re an Arsenal supporter,” you joke, wincing at the pain that’s really making itself known now. Tangerine, for possibly the first time, smiles at something you’ve said. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

“Arsenal? Fuck off, love. West Ham ‘til I die,” he replies.

You’re a little lightheaded. Probably from the blood loss.

“My uncle’s mate Big Dave did it for me when I was fifteen in exchange for a four pack of Carling,” you explain. Big Dave did not ask for identification or consent forms, and the quality of his workmanship betrays that. The linework is shaky and faded, and the lettering is wonky, but Tangerine brushes his thumb over it like it’s the Mona fucking Lisa.

“Where did you grow up?” you ask, deciding to push the moment further.

There’s a silence, and for a moment you think he won’t answer.

“Newham,” he says, eventually. “We grew up in Newham.”

“You and Lemon?”

“Yeah.”

You nod. Then decide maybe it’s worth giving something up in exchange for this tiny vulnerability he’s shown you.

“I grew up in Hackey,” you whisper.

Another brief flicker of a smile.

“Shithole,” the two of you concur, speaking at the same time.

And for a moment you think this time he really will lean in and kiss you.

Lemon slams the meat of his palm on the top of the doorframe, pulling both of you begrudgingly back into the real world. He gestures towards the rear bumper.

“They got both the fucking brake lights! Just my luck. I liked this car, Tangerine!” he groans, running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll get you a new car! Jesus Christ, it’s not the end of the world,” Tangerine mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll even get it for you if you want, Lem,” you say. Immediately Lemon softens, becoming far less sour than his namesake.

“Nah, it’s not your fault, darling. Don’t worry. This cunt owes me anyway. What’s another car to add to the list,” he says, nodding at Tangerine. He holds open the door inviting the two of you to climb out. “We’ve gotta ditch it either way. Get rid of the evidence before they get over the bridge.”

Outside on the street, the three of you take stock of each other. Lemon is relatively unscathed, but your blood has actively stained Tangerine’s suit, and you can feel the bleeding hasn’t stopped from your ear.

Hardly inconspicuous.

“Better get walking then,” you sigh, and Lemon laughs.

Score: One all.

#Tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #bullet train fanfic #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x y/n

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reidslovely · 2 years ago

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That’s the Price: Cruel World (Chapter Two) (Mob! Peter x Reader)

Request: Sort of. @mango-mastani brought up turning this into a mini series and i caved.

A/N: This could be a heavy chapter for some so please be aware of that, and please read the content warnings before continuing this fic.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Content Warning: Sexual allusions, mentions and brief descriptions of abuse/neglect on part of reader’s father, threats of gun violence, there is a gun present towards the end. Passing mention of blood, and beatings.

As always please reblog and if you feel like it comment!

Dating normally was not an option in this business, Peter knew that from a young age. He had heard the stories of how his parents met, how May and Ben had met. From the age of eight he knew the pattern, knew how he would meet the woman he would one day marry.

“So this is the first date you’re having? With her I mean?”

Asked Harry, as he lounged on the blue velour couch. Peter flattened out his curls with the palm of his hands, looking in the mirror at the blonde. “You’ve known you were going to marry this girl for years and you’ve never talked?”

“I’ve..I’ve sent her letters, and flowers. Besides we’ve talked..just not alone. And I haven’t known for years I’ve known for a year.”

“Does she return the favor?” Harry laughed. “Letters I mean get your head outta the gutter.”

“Doesn’t matter Har, we gotta do this.”

“It’s sad..going on your first date with your arranged wife..at nineteen.”

The way Harry drew it out made Peter bathe himself in embarrassment and guilt. He should have tried harder, harder to get (Y/N)’s affection- break her away from her fathers grip. Harry was lucky, Norman had gotten rid of the arrangement idea for himself after his failed marriage. Now Harry got to indulge in any girl or guy who paid him any bit of their time and affection. Peter grabbed the sports coat off the back of his desk chair, heading towards the door of his bedroom.

“Goodbye Har.” Sarcasm, and annoyance dripping from his tongue. The dirty blonde laughed, raising a glass to him as his friend passed.

“Yeah, tell me all about it when you get back.”

The park the two had agreed to meet at was even more private than (Y/N) had mentioned. This was a blessing to both of them, neither were technically supposed to meet without chaperones present. Peter paced nervously looking back and forth between entrances waiting for her, his sense perking up at the sound of the entrance gate opening. Soft footsteps approached him, he stood turning to meet the girl.

“Hi..(Y/N)…” He fumbled his words out.

“Peter.” The way she looked at him was one of fear, and confusion. But under it all there was a softness. Peter looked at the flowers that rested on top of the chess table, he grabbed them, thrusting them out to her.

“Hydrangeas..they’re your favorite.” Her cheeks pushed up as she smiled slightly, suddenly forgetting what their future held. It was like a normal date.

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

“Pete..”

Peter lifted his head finding his wife's eyes, her cheeks soft and dusted with her fancy blush. Luring a soft, content hum from his lips as he reached out for her. (Y/N) smiled sweetly, taking her place on his lap, her hands holding his shoulders. “What are you thinking about?”

You..I’ve always thought of you.

“How much of a coward your father is for pulling out of lunch. I mean c’mon I was gonna pay for him.” He laughed bitterly, the two knowing the real meaning of his words.

“I’m sure you were, baby.”

Peter hummed out a laugh, his fingers rubbing over the exposed skin of her legs. (Y/N) hummed looking at him, holding his hand there. The two had gotten closer in the weeks since their wedding, even sharing the bedroom now. However, Peter had only ever gone as far as holding her as she slept at night regardless of her ache for more. Peter Parker was raised a gentleman, for better or for worse.

“Our guests are here.” She says against his cheek, his hands holding her closer.

“And you’re up here with me, instead of downstairs playing hostess?”

(Y/N) giggled, her nose brushing against his cheek. “I find you much more interesting, Mr. Parker.” Peter laughed with her, his hands rubbing her sides.

“Up, Dove. This is in celebration of you.” Peter settles her onto her feet, fixing her dress. “You’re all bunched up. Go to the bathroom and fix that up, and I will go play host? Sounds good?”

(Y/N) nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug. Peter’s lips pressed against her forehead before sending her off to the bathroom. He closed his office door, fixing his tie and started down the stairs, Miles and Harry blocking his way halfway down.

“We have a problem..” Harry says leaning on the railing. “(Y/N)’s disappeared and we have an unwanted guest.”

“She’s not missing, she's in the bathroom cleaning up.” Peter looks over the two men’s shoulders, knowing whose face to be searching for.

“We can’t find him. He came in through the back, and ran off when we spotted him.” Miles answers as calmly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Peter sucked in a breath, his irrational brain wanting to lock (Y/N) in the bathroom until the coast was clear. As always, the rational part took over.

“Okay, Harry, you take the front. Miles, can I trust you with both backdoors?” The young man nodded quickly, rushing off towards the back. “Harry, I need you to set parameters for the outside. He’s not leaving here.”

“But-”

“Alive, I mean. He wants to show his ass here, I’ll let him but he’s gonna deal with the aftermath. If you excuse me, I need to go get my wife.”

Peter coughed under his breath as he turned loosening his tie. Soon he was rushing back up the steps, pushing the bathroom door open; he was not met with the sight of his wife.

Here’s where the irrational part of his brain took over.

“Goddamn it.”

Peter pushes through the different bedroom doors, looking in his upstairs office once again. Peter pushed his way into the locked door of their bedroom. The handle rips off as he slams his body into the door opening it.

“What the fuck!” (Y/N) yelled out a scream covering her naked body with the new dress. She stared at her husband, whose chest heaved up and down all of his feelings boiling to the surface at once. A cold, and painful shiver ran over her body- in that moment she knew something was wrong.

“Why did you lock the door? I..was worried. I couldn’t find you.” Peter calmed himself before approaching her. (Y/N)’s hands shook as she held the dress to her, tears swelling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Peter covered his mouth, as he held her arms.

“My zipper broke on my dress when I was fixing it in the bathroom. I needed..needed to change, I’m sorry.” She apologized to him, her heart pounding in her throat. What had she done to make him upset at her? She hiccuped as he zipped up her new dress, pulling her into a hug.

“Shush, shh shh.” Peter petted her hair, shaking his head. “It’s not you baby, I thought you were in danger was all.”

“Pete, why- why would I be in- he’s here.” She let out a shaky sigh.

“He is, was. I’m not sure where he is, but we can’t let it ruin the night okay? I will be by your side all night. I’ve got people on it.”

He grabbed her face tenderly, pulling her eye to eye with him. She nodded, her jaw tense as she held her hands over his. “If he shows back up here, I guarantee you the only way he’ll be leaving here is in a body bag.”

Peter picked up the old dress that was laying on the bed, patting the fabric on her cheeks. “Do. Not. Leave my side tonight.” He dropped the fabric pulling her into his arms.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” She whispers, nuzzling her head under his chin. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath, her hands dropping from his sides as they broke apart. She tilted her head back to look at him, his lips pulling down slightly as he stared at her.

“C’mon they’re going to get restless. That’s the last thing we want tonight.”

(Y/N) hummed softly, a forced laugh leaving her lips as she and Peter made their way downstairs.

She lit up on his arm, moreso, Peter lit up on her arm. His friends and colleagues had never seen the brunette with such a loving, whimsical smile. (Y/N) couldn’t help but let out a little laugh each time Peter introduced her.

“Ah Curt, Curt. This is my beautiful, adoring wife (Y/N). (Y/N) this is..well I shouldn’t call you by that here, Dr. Connors.” He teased the older man, his grip still firm on (Y/N)’s hip. She had never fel so cared for, so adored. Almost forgetting she should be on high alert for the ghost to make his appearance, but there comes a time where she believes that maybe he had finally left her alone.

“He talks about you like that all the time you know.” (Y/N) turned to the temptress-like voice, before her stood three women all holding a drink. The dark haired girl thrusted the other glass out to her smiling. “You did what none of us could do.” She grins. “I’m Felicia this is Gwen and Mary-Jane.”

The women had been mentioned in passing, all women Peter had dated with in one way or another in his teen years. “Yes, I put two and two together.” (Y/N) smiles at the women.

She laughed taking the glass filled with the red liquid, like clockwork she looked over her shoulder checking Peter was still in her line of sight. Swirling the wine, she thought of conversation topics; this was still all so new to her.

“I mean it’s not like we had a choice, we’ve practically had this arrangement since we were kids.”

The girls laughed in response.

It wasn’t a joke.

However, she forced out a laugh with them. “Well congrats, really.” Gwen smiles. “You’re one of us now.”

“I am honored. Are there any expectations from me?” (Y/N) joked, settling into the dynamic. Mary-Jane shook her head, her hand grabbing (Y/N)’s forearm lightly.

“Of course not, you’re the wife you just have to tell us the juicy details.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sudden firm hand finding her lower back, a thumb stroking it’s way across. “Have you inducted my wife to your coven Miss Hardy?” Peter teased, nursing his whiskey.

“She was a willing participant.” Felicia's sweet voice hummed. Peter scoffed with a laugh, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s temple. Her eyes peered up at him watching his every facial movement, he talked with the women so politely and respectfully. Asking about their jobs, Gwen and Harry’s newborn letting them know that if they ever needed anything to reach out. It was astonishing to (Y/N), that a man of Peter’s status treated women like equals.

“I need to refill my glass.” He says, (Y/N) jumps from their embrace taking his glass from his hand. “Dove, I’m a grown man, I can get it myself.”

“No please. I’ll be right back, Harry is at the bar. I'll have eyes on me.”

Dodging his argument, (Y/N) turned and rushed to the bar before Peter could say no. The bar was lined with liquor, grabbing the bourbon from the bottom shelf she poured it over the ice in his glass.

“Mrs. Parker.” Harry says urgently, as he rushed around the bar. “I need you to follo-“

A hand reached over the bar clamping down on (Y/N)’s forearm, shock settles over her body as the glass crashes to the ground.

“You think you can just throw me out of your own wedding? Forget about me?” The ghost she had forgotten abut yells in her face, practically pulling her across the bar. Osborn threw himself across the bar, pulling Tony back; pulling (Y/N) further across the bar in the fight.

“Peter!”

There was a mix of voices yelling the name, and (Y/N) wasn’t even sure if he heard them. Her eyes screwed shut, her mouth agape in pain. “Let me go, please, please. I’m sorry”

Her tears felt hot against her cheeks, as they rolled down into her mouth.

“You are so ungrateful. Without me you wouldn’t be here, you would be nothing. And you throw me out of an event I spent your whole life putting together. You fucking bitch. I have half the mind to pull you across this bar and show you your-“

Click.

The steel click of the handgun is the only other sound that filled the room besides (Y/N)’s begs and plea on top of her fathers yelling.

“You have not even five seconds to step away from her or I will lay your brains out on this floor.” Peter’s calm demeanor set an eerie feeling over the room.

“Yeah or wha-“

Peter pushed the barrel of the gun deeper against Tony’s temple, the sheer force pushing Tony’s head the other direction.

“I said. Walk. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Peter grabbed the back of Tony’s suit pulling him off (Y/N). Forcing him to walk towards his office doors. Harry grabbed the other side of Tony’s jacket, leading the way.

“Party is over, thank you everyone for coming and for your lovely gifts. Now, Miles will show you all to your cars and you can expect thank you cards very soon.”

As if nothing happened, everyone had gone back to chatting as they exited the house. (Y/N) dropped behind the bar, shaking and holding her legs closer to her. There were no tears, she couldn’t cry even if she wanted to.

“(Y/N)..” Gwen’s soft voice overtook her sense, her freshly manicured hands reaching out to her, (Y/N) took them as support as she lifted herself from the space behind the bar. She glanced at Peter's office. There were no screams, no arguing, not even a gunshot.

“No, no. Let’s get you to lay down.”

There was no fight left, she leaned on Gwen as she walked up the steps her body finally giving into the tiredness that washes over her. Gwen laid (Y/N) on the bed, and pulled her shoes off before covering her up.

“It’s alright, you need to stay up here. Go to sleep, okay.” Gwen walked to the door, closing it softly behind her.

As much as she wanted to give into the sleep she couldn’t, she tossed and threw herself around. Even using what little strength she had left to get up and change into her nightgown thinking she just needed to be more comfortable. Subconsciously, she knew it was the missing body in the bed. The only touch that could comfort her in moments like these.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath, rolling in the bed to watch the door. Counting down, wishing that he’d walk in- but ultimately she had no idea how long it would be. She didn’t know how long it had been since the argument. She closed her eyes holding Peter’s pillow close to her chest, her eyes closing. Finally feeling warm, her body started to drift into that sweet comfort; the creaking sound for the wood door opening her sense back up.

“Peter?”

“Oh, Dove, I'm sorry.” Peter held himself at a distance, something he never did with her. Avoiding her gaze in the dark room, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be in soon.”

(Y/N) watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him. The water in the sink ran for what felt like forever, she waited like a kid for him to walk out. Finally, when the door opened and Peter settled into bed everything felt normal again. Except his distance, he laid on his left side tonight, not his right facing her. She stared at his back for only a couple seconds before pulling the fabric of his shirt. Without words he knew what she wanted, he turned to her pulling her to his chest. As his hands pulled on her she saw the red that lined his nail beds, the bruising on his knuckles, and the busted vein that left a ugly mark. Refusing to let her see it he moved his hands flat against her back, holding her as close as humanly possible.

“I’m so sorry Peter.” She says her hands rubbing his chest. Her guilt building in her chest, she drove him to that point.

“No, no. None of that- you are not to blame. He is the monster, not me. Not you.” Peter brought his hand to cradle her face, his thumb rubbing softly.

“Did you kill him?”

The question shocked Peter to a point of laughter. “No. I wish I had.” His breath came out rough, his thumb stroking her cheek. ‘Harry pulled me off. He’s dropping him off at a hospital, no questions asked.”

(Y/N) kissed his palm, her eyes fluttering closed.

“That is the price I pay for you. For my love for you.” The devotion in his voice could drive her to tears. “I would do anything for you, you know that right? Protect you to any extent I have too.” He spoke so tenderly, the tears overflowed.

“I know, I do.”

Their lips found one another like magnets, her hands grabbing his shirt in the heat of passion. This was what safety felt like, here in this moment she knew that nothing would ever take away the love they had for each other.

Tags: If you were forgotten let me know!

@a-lumos-in-the-nox @bxcketbarnes @sincericida @megmehz @andrews-lovr @helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @lateridk @thatsassyhufflepuff @adhdhufflepuff @theonlymaddie

#tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #peter parker x fem #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x self insert #tasm fic #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #mob!peter parker #mob peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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madame-wilsonn · 2 years ago

Text

Where the home is

MASTERLIST

Request: I'd like to request a fluffy fic with Arthur where he gets to live in the country with his love (very cottage core), raise his children (awkwardly but adorably), and run a garage. I'd love to know how his life would have turned out if the vendetta hadn't happened so I supposed this is a "fix it" fic? I know you're really good at those! I don't have a dialogue prompt for you, but perhaps an "ambitious man" comes to the garage and Arthur's wife worries he'll want to go back to his gangster lifestyle, but he assures her he's happy? (You don't have to take that direction tho.) - @zablife

Summary: after a certain visit, you fear Arthur might not be happy with your life anymore.

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, lee!! I was really hesitant at the beginning with this story but I still hope I did justice to the request! Nonetheless, I had a lot of fun writing for Arthur and imagining a s4-free life! Clearly, this man doesn’t get enough love so I did my best to change that! I really hope you like it!!

And special thanks to @thesoldiersminute for making the perfect gifset to fit my story in such a short time (again), you’re a real hero 💗

Warnings: a bit of angst and fluff!!

Word count: 3,074 words

“Arthur, breakfast is ready!” you yelled out the kitchen window, setting up a plate of scrambled eggs on the table.

Your husband joined you a few seconds later, wrapping his free arm around your waist. He kissed your cheek tenderly, handing you Billy.

“Hello, little guy,” you cooed, tickling his neck.

You pulled out the high chair, making sure he was safely seated before taking place next to Arthur.

“So, what are your plans today?”

“Hmm…gotta go to the garage,” he explained, eating a mouthful of toast. “I’ll come back for lunch, we can go pick those apples for your pie, yeah?”

A soft smile graced your lips, your hand reaching to squeeze his.

He got up, quickly sipping the last of his tea. One kiss on your forehead, one kiss on Billy’s and he left. You watched him get into the car through the window, chuckling when he waved at you, a huge grin on his face.

This was your new routine, your new life. Far from the dust and soot of Birmingham.

Arthur’s last deal got him enough money to buy this cottage, with enough land to grow chickens and have a garden. It all seemed like a dream. Watching your husband play with your son, prepare dinner with him next to you.

You never thought Arthur would finally accept giving up the Shelby business. It became the only option for him once he learned you were pregnant. He didn’t want to raise kids in the middle of gang fights, drugs, and gun powder.

His little family was his last shot to a happy, brighter future and he didn’t want to ruin it. That’s what he would tell you.

However, you couldn’t help but wonder if he missed his old life sometimes. Of course, you knew he was happy with you and the countryside allowed him to fulfill long-forgotten dreams. But was this really enough?

You sighed, grabbing a screaming Billy in your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going to see Dada. Come on, you can stop crying, now.”

At the mention of his father, your two years old began calming down, repeating “Dada?” until you explained yourself again.

Ever since Arthur left this morning, Billy did not stop asking for him. And what was once a sweet little boy, turned into a screaming, kicking monster. Nothing could silence him. No matter how many toys you brought to his attention, no matter how many cookies you tried to bribe him with. All he wanted was his father.

Which is why you found yourself entering the garage a few minutes later. Oliver— one of Arthur’s mechanics— warned you your husband was in a meeting with some man. You waited outside the office, trying to distract Billy.

Finally, the door opened. A man came out first, dressed elegantly with a hat in his hand. You had never seen him before, not even in the village. But considering the three-piece suit he wore, you could only guess he came from the city.

A smile stretched your lips as Arthur came out, a confused look on his face. The stranger looked at you, then to your husband, expectedly.

“Mr. Lavin, this is my wife, Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shelby,” he shook your hand as you replied then grabbed a small card from his pocket, “Alright, here is my card. You can call me when you’ve made a decision. Have a nice day.”

You frowned, staring at Mr. Lavin exiting the building and turning back to Arthur.

“Who was he?”

“Oh, he sells cars. Wants to join our businesses together,” he explained, taking Billy from you. “Did you miss daddy, hm?”

Your toddler giggled, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…he’d keep selling the cars and I would deal with fixing them when it’s needed. And his company is much bigger which would increase benefits, I’d make more money.”

You hummed, realizing this man just proposed to give Arthur his old life back. The small voice of insecurity grew louder and louder at the sight of your husband, thrilled with the idea of expanding his business.

“Love? Is everything okay?”

You focused your attention back on Arthur who had Billy sitting on his knees. A sight you’d never get tired of. Although your husband could be quite clumsy and rough on the edges, you discovered a whole new side of him when he met his son. You had never seen your Arthur so happy. And you were absolutely sure that this lifestyle was the best for him and for Billy. But you were terrified that he may prefer his previous life and accept the businessman’s proposal.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” you cleared your throat, pushing your worries further down in your heart. “We just came here because Billy couldn’t stop crying but we should head back now.”

“You know what? I’m going home with you,” Arthur got up from his chair, still carrying his son in his arms. “It’s calm today, I can let Oliver handle it so that little rascal doesn’t drive you mad,” he added that last part while tickling Billy.

With one hand against your back, Arthur guided you outside where the car was parked. The way back home passed in a flash. Staring out of the window, you were only half-listening to your husband. All you could think about was the businessman in his classy suit. Arthur dressed the same way when you met him. His hair used to be shorter. He was close to his family and worked with them at the company.

And then you married him.

You weren’t a controlling wife but you saw how your brother-in-law, Thomas, manipulated Arthur into doing dangerous jobs. No matter how hard you tried to help your husband to give up his drug consumption, his brother would always come back with a man to threaten, beat up or kill.

Of course, he promised it was the last step to become a fully legal company. You believed him in the beginning until Arthur’s state got worse. Your pregnancy was the last thing to convince him to move away.

You lived a happy life, raising your child in the middle of green fields and chickens. Your husband had almost no contact with his brother except for the big family reunions.

You contented yourself with what you had. Granted, it was a less glamorous lifestyle but you never missed any of it. You tried to convince yourself Arthur felt the same way when you had some doubts. It used to work, only by seeing how much better he had gotten.

But this morning’s meeting made you question everything.

“Y/N? Hey!” blinking a few times, you looked at Arthur who opened the door for you. “We’re home.”

You thanked him with a tight smile, your mind still clouded with your doubts and insecurities. You were aware you could share your feelings, and maybe talk about different solutions to make everyone happy. But you knew that as soon as you admitted how you felt, there was no taking it back and you didn’t want Arthur’s decision to depend on what you wanted. Especially if it meant that he could be happy.

Strolling through the garden, you stopped in front of each tree to collect the apples. Arthur had Billy sitting around his shoulder, gleefully trying to catch the red and green fruits.

“Oh, this one is beautiful. Good job, Billy,” your husband exclaimed when he saw his son’s find.

You adored apple picking, it was always a lovely moment. But you couldn’t enjoy yourself as much today. Your incessant ruminations were eating your general cheerfulness away, making you quieter than usual.

Arthur had picked up on your strange behavior ever since you visited him at the garage this morning but he thought you were just tired. Your growing silence only turned his slight concern into worry.

Noticing your absentminded state, he gently put Billy on the ground, letting him meander off in the field. Arthur brought you closer to him, passing an arm around your shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, tiptoeing to grab one of the apples that caught your eye but you were too short. Before you could do anything else, you found the fruit in your hand, your fingers grazing Arthur’s calloused ones.

“Thank you,” you tried to smile as naturally as your troubled state allowed you to. Glancing at your basket, you added. “I think we have enough apples for now.”

You began walking back to your house, Arthur right behind you. As you entered your kitchen, your husband announced he would be taking Billy to the nursery for his nap. You began working on your dough, the house quiet and peaceful.

However, the silence only made the buzzing in your mind stronger and louder. Your thoughts wandering and spiraling until you felt dizzy.

You kept mixing the batter mechanically, your arms sore. But the pain was incomparable to the despair you found yourself in. There was no way to win. Either you forced your husband to give up something he loved. Or you let him even though it would wreck the balance you had installed.

“Y/N?”

You jumped as Arthur’s voice startled you. A shaky breath escaped your lips, turning your head to look at him.

“Billy’s asleep. Can I help you?” he stood in the kitchen’s door frame, his gentle eyes gauging your expression.

“You can cut the apples if you want,” your tone came out harsher than you expected. Arthur frowned at your cold voice, hesitantly walking into the room.

As he peeled the fruits, he tried to replay in his mind the last few hours of the day. You were obviously upset, more likely about something he did. But the poor man had no idea. It was neither your birthday nor your anniversary. He fixed the lightbulbs in the hallway like you asked. He even brought you fresh flowers yesterday when he noticed the old ones started to wilt.

And you seemed perfectly fine this morning.

So he began thinking about the events that must have happened between the time he left for work and now. You did seem pretty upset when you arrived at the garage but he hadn’t seen you for hours.

Arthur dropped his knife as he realized he may have found the issue. Maybe you were upset that he left you alone with Billy to work instead of helping you at home. But you usually didn’t mind…

Regardless, it seemed to have bothered you today and as your husband, he couldn’t be the reason behind your low spirits.

He took the time to cut the apples the way you showed him, making sure they were “thin but not too much”. He took his time, trying to be as diligent as his rough hands allowed him to. The last thing he wanted was to make you even angrier with chunky apple bits or paper-thin ones.

Sheepishly, he walked to the sink, setting the bowl next to you. He observed you for a moment, noticing the deep frown on your forehead. It was now or never.

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to gain some courage before hugging your waist from behind.

“I-I’m sorry for this morning,” he whispered, resting his cheek against yours.

As soon as the words hit your ears, your movements stopped. You clenched your jaw as you inhaled deeply, wondering what gave you away.

“I promise to stay home more often to help you with the baby. I’ll hire more men at the garage so you don’t have to be alone when he gets fussy like this morning.”

You frowned, confused. You tried to understand his speech but no matter how you analyzed it, it didn’t make any sense.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” you turned around, dusting your hands on your apron. He didn’t reply right away, staring at you strangely.

“I-I thought you were mad because I went to work this morning. Billy was giving you a hard time and I wasn’t here to help so I thought…you’re not angry about that?”

You sighed, exasperated. It wasn’t his fault and you shouldn’t have been angry at him. But how he completely missed the reason you were so upset just…ticked you off.

You went back to your pie, trying to distract yourself to not cause a fight but Arthur couldn’t give up.

“But…why are you mad? Did I do something to-”

“You didn’t do anything, Arthur. It’s fine.”

You heard him scoff, letting go of your waist.

“Then why have you been like this the whole day?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stayed quiet. You reminded yourself that Billy was asleep and how hard it would be to calm him down if he woke up. You focused all your attention on the dough before you, trying to ignore your husband. Trying to ignore the growing red monster in your chest.

But Arthur called your name, a hand on your shoulder and you snapped: “because I feel you’re not happy anymore and I’m fucking terrified! There!”

His hand left your shoulder and you took advantage of that second of disbelief to escape, throwing your apron on the table.

You walked to your favorite tree in the garden— the one with the swing attached to it. It was a small gift from Arthur. He built it when you moved in after you mentioned having a similar one in your childhood home.

You let out a shaky sigh, feeling the whole world crumble around you. You couldn’t help but feel a pinch of guilt in your chest, realizing you had convinced yourself you lived a perfect life when it wasn’t the case. You prided yourself in your family, having built a happy and safe household.

But maybe all you did was manipulate Arthur into accepting what you considered a “better” lifestyle.

Tightening your hold on the edge of the swing, you allowed yourself a minute, crying your frustrations away. You breathed in the fresh, summer breeze, slowly calming yourself down.

You were aware your reaction had been disproportionate and you needed to apologize to Arthur for your behavior. You just wished you could stay here forever, shut yourself away in joyful memories. If you focused enough, you could almost feel the wind caressing your cheeks and hear Billy’s precious giggles as Arthur pushed the swing.

But running away from your problems never really made them go away.

Opening the door as quietly as you could, you found Arthur on one of the sofas. Billy must have just woken up as he lay in his father’s arm, nodding on and off against his chest. You played with your fingers anxiously, entering the living room.

Your husband’s gaze on you almost made your cheeks heat up. He had every right to get mad at you for your outburst, to tell you how ridiculous it was and make you feel even smaller than you already did.

Instead, he extended his hand to you, allowing you to sit on his lap. You nuzzled your face against his neck, bringing an arm around Billy as well.

“What’s going on, hm?” Arthur finally asked, tenderly brushing the hair out of your face.

“Do you miss your old life?”

Your question made him frown. He had no idea where this was coming from. You knew everything about his past. You had stood up against his demons, dragging him out of the hell he was a prisoner of. Without you, he would probably not even be here anymore. So why would you ask him that?

“No, love. Why would I?” he replied, his confusion clear in his tone.

“I’m scared you do…sometimes,” you whispered so quietly a part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I’m not angry at you for that. I understand…I think. I’ll always do what’s necessary to make you happy but I’m not sure it’s the best decision and-”

“What are you talking about?” he interrupted, just as confused as before.

“I’m talking about the job, Arthur!” you exclaimed, getting up. “That businessman who came this morning! He’s just offered you your old life back!”

Your husband blinked, everything finally clicking in his mind. Sighing, he put Billy on the sofa and joined you in the middle of the room.

“I never planned on accepting it,” he admitted, taking your hands in his.

You shook your head. “You’re just saying this because I don’t like that idea.”

“I’m not,” Arthur leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Expanding my business means I’d have to work in the city, I’ll be less home. I don’t want that. I don’t want to go back.”

You found yourself melting in his touch, your worry slowly withering.

“I want to be around. I want to see Billy grow and have more children. And the future I imagine is here, in the countryside with my family. Because that’s where my home is,” he explained, bringing tears to your eyes. “I am the happiest man on this whole planet. Never thought it was even possible to feel that way. But you give me that and that’s all I want.” You felt another kiss against the crown of your head. “Also, working for those big companies means cutting my hair and I like it long.”

You giggled at his comment, hugging him closer. Arthur chuckled, his heart welling up as your laugh resonated through the house.

Feeling a small tug on his pants, he looked down to see Billy, extending his chubby arms towards you. “Dada. Hug,” he kept repeating.

“Oh, you wanna join, little man?” Arthur bent down.

You embraced your boys as tight as you could, contentment filling the void you had felt. Arthur’s earnest words eased your insecurities, shutting down the ugly voices in your head.

“I want this as well,” you whispered after a beat of silence. Your husband gazed at you, dropping Billy on the ground. “Everything you said, I want it too.”

A radiant smile appeared on his face, his eyes gleaming under the afternoon sun. Caressing your cheeks, Arthur brought your lips to his. Your fingers got lost in his hair as you felt your knees grow weaker.

“What do you say we leave Billy with John and Esme for a few days and have the weekend for ourselves?” he muttered, eyes growing darker.

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.”

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur my bestie #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #ma copine lee #lee tag ♡#friends #anna's grand ball #500 followers celebration #anna’s fics

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!! I absolutely love your writing ❤️❤️❤️ can I request one of the seven deadly sins for Iceman?

Sloth

-- Thank you so much! Sorry this took so long to write, it was quite the challenge figuring out which Sin would work best for him but I think Sloth is a good one. Sorry this is a little sad :/ I still hope you enjoy! --

There was something about Pete Mitchell he despised.

Sure, he’d been nice. “You can be my wingman anytime” was a hell of a lot easier to say than the biting comment he had wanted to throw his way. Especially since the only thing that had sparked his hatred was a girl.

He was Tom Kazansky.

Celebrated fighter pilot. Climbing the ladder to captain at neck breaking speeds. He never made mistakes, flew ice cold and all that.

And yet.

And yet the record wasn’t perfect.

There had been one mistake. One monumental fuck up that tarnished the entire god damned record.

There had been Her.

There had been Ida with her perfect smile, warm laugh and sunny disposition. Her comforting hugs, addicting kisses and soothing words. At some point, he had been able to go home to that sort of thing. To a home cooked dinner, a rented movie and maybe even something else. And then Pete Mitchell had walked into his fucking life and ruined it all.

Ice liked to pretend it had all been Mitchell’s fault. Because life before Mitchell had looked nice: a girl he saw a future with, a nice house in the suburbs, a dog. And after Maverick there was nothing of note: a bleak and bland apartment where lightbulbs lasted a week, a weekly shrink appointment, and microwave meals.

Well, there was Sarah. He guessed there was nothing wrong with Sarah. But she wasn’t Ida.

He blamed Pete for Sarah too.

Because blaming Pete was just so much easier than admitting it had all been his fault.

It had been his fault that when he entered the house that day, he found it emptied of her things. No dogs, no sofa, no books, no dishes and no second toothbrush in the bathroom sink. Half the groceries had disappeared from the fridge and most of the cutlery had been taken from the drawer. He had thought he’d been burgled until he found the letter.

“Dear Tom,

I won’t ask you to pick between me and being the best. I am not interested in playing games I am doomed to lose. So, I have decided to pick for you. I am leaving.

Ironic how ‘being the best’ apparently doesn’t extend to your relationship.

I really thought I would grow old with you. Maybe we’d have a few children that we’d raise and love. Before Top Gun, I had been so convinced you were going to propose I had started collecting bridal magazines. Guess I really was an idiot, wasn’t I?

Never contact me again, Tom.

All the best (worst),

Ida”

Fuck.

He didn’t remember how long he had been sitting at the kitchen table, just staring blankly into space before gathering the two brain cells he had left and marching to the phone. He couldn’t call Slider. Slider would tell him “Good riddance, she’s a distraction anyway” as if that was supposed to mend the giant Ida-sized crater in his heart. Really, there was only one person he could call, but he still pretended to think about any other option. In the end, he dialled the number and waited for the other end to pick up the phone

“Bradshaw family, who am I speaking to?” The voice at the other end sounded cheery and happy. It almost made Tom want to slam the phone down. He felt as though he was being mocked.

“It’s Ice” He mumbled into the receiver

“Okay? Can I help you?” Nick Bradshaw said, sounding confusing. Tom could hear cartoons in the background, and a noise like someone rounding up some dishes and dropping them in a sink. Right. It was dinner time. Ice had completely forgotten about food, despite how ravenous he had been feeling up until the moment he entered the apartment.

“You got a minute to talk?” He asked

“Err, yeah I guess. You dying?”

“What?”

“It’s just, I don’t really know what the f---” He dragged the ‘F’ out as he tried to stop the swear from passing his lips “iretruck… Yeah, Daddy didn’t say a bad word, hey Bradley? Daddy said firetruck.” Goose spoke to someone else “Sorry. I don’t really know what we could talk about”

“I need your advice” Tom steadied his voice “My girl left me”

Goose stayed silent for a moment. The cartoon’s volume was turned up and Ice recognised the voice of Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He used to love that cartoon. Ida and him used to watch it on Saturday mornings. Well, they hadn’t in a while.

“Do you need company?” Nick asked

“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah I do” Ice felt his voice waver and tears threatened to spill out onto his cheeks. Goose hung up the phone. Trying to find something to do in the meantime, Tom took a shower, hoping the searing water would erase all traces of his crying.

Nick, bless him, arrived ten minutes later.

“I don’t really know what to say, man, she literally spells it out for you. She literally said ‘never contact me again, Tom’. I don’t think it gets clearer than that…” Goose said, holding the letter in one hand and following the line he was reading with a finger.

They were sitting by the barren kitchen table. Nick had read the letter three times by now, peppering him with questions in between readings to try and understand why she had left. Goose never made a judgement, but the more Ice spoke, the more he realised his own mistake.

He had gotten lazy. Date nights had stopped, he barely helped around the house, he checked out of arguments and he never bloody listened when you tried to talk. The more he talked, the more he realised it was his fault, and the more he blamed Mitchell.

Ice’s hair was still dripping with water, the droplets making a puddle by the feet of his chair.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am, man. But she asked to stay away. Clearly, she’s hurt, she needs space. If she wants you back in her life, she’ll make the first move. If not then I’m sorry but this is it.”

“So I do nothing?” Ice summarised

“Sorry.” Goose patted his shoulder

“I let her go” Tom repeated

Nick nodded.

“Fuck”

“I’ll keep quiet about this if you want.”

Tom nodded

“Okay, I have one condition though: you never treat a girl like that again. You show up for dates, you are nice, you don’t shout and you pay attention.”

He nodded again. He promised he would never get lazy again. He promised he wouldn’t take his girl for granted, and especially not when the reason he was throwing her to the side was to win a stupid competition. He promised it to Goose, he promised it to God and he promised it to himself.

“I should go”

He had hummed in response.

And he had stayed true to his word. He had repented. He had treated Sarah like a princess, did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. He never complained, he never argued, he never raised his voice. He never got lazy again, hoping that maybe at some point he might be able to practice his new skill of being a decent boyfriend on Ida again. If only so he could set the record straight.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader #iceman #requests

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btswrckd · 4 years ago

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!

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“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.

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“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.”

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“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.”

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