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blukrown · 2 years ago

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Restful body, Restless mind - HorangixKonig Oneshot [NSFW]

Horangi enjoys the bliss of respite with Konig, relishing all of their moments away from the noises of war.

Or read on AO3

Faint snoring was the noise Horangi awoke to one Thursday morning. Loud only due to proximity but comforting. The steady rhythm of breath after breath reassured him he was not alone in an unfamiliar room.

Facing a curtained window, where warm sunlight blazed through, Horangi grunted and rolled over. Pleasantly unsurprised to feel the wall of warmth and relaxed muscle that greeted him. Blearily, he opened his eyes a little to look, hoping to maintain some sliver of drowsiness.

He saw a man’s back, clothed in a black t-shirt, somehow hiding the shapes of his expansive back below. His chest rose and fell in a slow melody of snoring intake and breathy exhale. Horangi could see further up the bed, a head of dark nearly brown auburn hair that hung loose to just past shoulder length with locks laying uncaringly on the pillow. Sometimes Horangi wished he could comb it to see its sheen, but he knew that He would not much like it. Hair was a thing of discomfort, at least to Him anyway.

Horangi moved even closer, pressing his own red shirt-covered chest to this enormous back. Arms somehow slithering under and over to hug from behind. His fingers only just snagging on each other on the other side. Horangi found he did not mind the slight strain if it meant he could encompass all of him.

Pressing one side of his face to the body before him, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Welcoming the noise of the steady, slow drumming of the man’s heartbeat in his ear. The rhythm of blood pumping through his veins, of oxygen going in and out of his lungs, of life still running through him.

HIm and Horangi were on R&R, after a steady stream of contract after contract, mission upon mission. Leading to KorTac’s leadership needing to provide respite for their members or else they would start seeing men drop dead with exhaustion. Even Horangi, someone who did not look forward to recuperation, admitted it was what all of them needed. But instead of hunkering down in hiding in South Korea for 6 months, he had been pleased to receive an invite. Horangi had been asked to go with Him back to Berlin. To a small, self-admitted ‘shitty’ flat. A studio apartment, with a second-hand spring mattress and only one chair and table to decorate it, in an old rickety building that was left abandoned for most of its lease. Suffice to say, Horangi leapt on the opportunity.

Horangi and Him were in an oddly, committed and almost - some would call - wholesome relationship. Obviously when guns, blood and shrapnel were not surrounding and covering them both.

T hey had found each other as two war-beaten, violence revelling soldiers. At first, it was friendship, Horangi’s great marksmanship and Konig’s weapon-like body being such a beneficial combination that KorTac had partnered them up in an official capacity. Suffice it to say, kindness turned to lust, then lust turned to love.

Horangi could spend all morning recalling all the sweet and bitter memories of the nearly three years of history between them. The rise and falls, the injuries and near-death experiences, the touches, the kisses, the arguments, the silences. It was something Horangi thought he never thought he could deserve or even want. To this day, Horangi’s mind spun at the thought of how he got to this point. How the man code-named Konig became his.

Konig, but Horangi rarely thought of him by that name, had yet to reveal his true identity. He had once explained that he might never.

‘It is a life I have left behind. Call me Konig if you want, it is the closest thing to a name I have now.’

Horangi remembered shrugging, ‘A name is name, it does not speak the story of the man who holds it. Besides, I don’t think I need to call you by some name to get your attention.’

Horangi’s stomach now twisted in self-induced embarrassment. What a line. He remembered how Konig almost shrunk, physically curling in at the flirty jab. Adorable, Horangi could only think as he thanked his habit of wearing a mask.

Pressing the front of his face into His back, hoping to soothe the warmth of his still burning face, Horangi breathed Konig in.

It was odd. He usually smelt like sweat, gunpowder and oil grease, along with his usual musk. Now, it was just that, the natural scent of him and the hint of a cheap chemist-bought body wash from the shower last night. It was a peculiar, but welcome change. Another thing Horangi never knew he would have the privilege to have.

Arms now dully complaining of the strain to encircle his partner, Horangi instead pressed the palms to Konig’s chest. Through thin, worn cloth, he felt firm muscle and the working lungs still busy at work.

Mischief struck him as he thought to awaken his bedfellow with some fun, impish touches. Cupping the sizable pectoral muscles in either hand, Horangi devilishly squeezed them, relishing the firm, giving flesh under his fingers. He did not react, snoring away dully in front of him.

Horangi pursed his lips on Konig’s back, letting his hands roam further down the broad chest and stomach. Scaping over the skin he knew well whether clothed or naked, to his gut.

Toughened with muscle, but covered with a layer of fat that made his stomach sink into the grasp of Horangi’s greedy hands. Running from front to either side, Horangi faintly hummed. Still yet satisfied, he tucked his hands under Horangi’s shirt, welcoming the warmth of Konig’s skin underneath.

This time, the man’s breath stuttered for only a moment, surely reacting to Horangi’s naturally cold hands against his flesh. Before his breaths evened to that drawling, easy snore again.

Horangi, although not often getting the liberty to see him asleep like this back on base, was almost annoyed at the man’s unconscious reluctance to wake. He had heard him say that, when not on a mission He slept like a rock and, up until now, HOrangi had not believed him.

No matter, Horangi would still find his enjoyment. His fingers touched the tough muscle of Konig’s belly, running over scars of bullets, knives and shrapnel. This was the body of a man who put it on the line for his team every time he was in the field. Pushing down doors, slamming through the enemy lines, still charging forwards even as bullets ricocheted around them. Horangi was forever thankful he never had to experience the fear and horror their enemies experienced, seeing the mountain of a man charged in.

Roaming up Konig’s body, Horangi cupped at his chest again, the same strong muscle but forgiving layer of fat filling his hands. Squeezing and messaging the skin, he felt the large back in front of him move fitfully, a small grunt rumbling out. Horangi did not stop, however. His fingers finding the buds of nipples instead. Softly pinching them in both hands, he relished a small whimper that whispered out. Using both of his forefingers, her rubbed at the perked buds, rolling them over the pad.

Horangi could hear the slight hitch in Konig’s breathing and could see him shuffling occasionally in his dreams. The far larger man pressed to Horangi’s front, unconsciously curling slightly so that even Horangi could almost encircle him from behind, covering head to toe. Horangi leaned to kiss the bare skin of his neck, loving over muscle, tendon and a choice skimming bullet scar. His hands now travelling again, impatiently roving up and down the full train of his torso. Savouring the natural shapes of Konig’s body over palm and fingers.

One such time his hands dipped lower, Horangi passed his belly over the waistband of boxers. Only intending to give a grateful touch to his massive thighs, he noted that the man’s underwear was strained. Tented and stretched. Horangi’s heart leapt in excitement as Konig, still mid-sleep was aroused in another way by his very greedy, self-indulgent touch.

Horangi, mischief and his own bubbling lust fueling his actions, did not touch the shape between the man’s legs just yet. Instead, his arms reached as far down Konig’s legs as he could. Squeezing at the sturdy well-built muscles of his thighs before dragging upwards, almost teasing the still sleeping Austrian.

To Horangi’s surprise and deep pleasure, as his hands reached with a height of the tented cloth, Konig’s hips unconsciously bucked. Urging the touch to go to the warm, large and girthy shape between.

Horangi’s own excitement was starting to show, the simmering warmth that had at one point been easy to ignore was now a small annoyance. His own briefs restraining an erection. Licking his lips and gnawing a little on the flesh of his bottom lip, Horangi took a moment to consider his next move.

Pressing his full body to Konig’s, Horangi pressed his face to the man’s back as he welcomed the warmth between the larger man’s two legs. Muffling a soft moan as he rubbed his lust against Konig’s behind. Horangi’s hands then cupped the shape in between his two hands, hiding a smile against the man’s skin as he felt the large size of him not yet at full mast. Pressing his lips to the hot skin of the man’s neck, both hands took a grip around the shape above the clothing of his underwear. Moving from moistening time to thick base, savouring the soft, faint moan that ruptured from Konig’s mouth.

More than ever now, Horangi wanted him to wake up. To see his eyes open and look at him, with surprise, lust, fear, wonderment, he really did not care. But he did not wake him. Instead savouring the noises that an awake Konig would never allow himself to make. Whimpers and whines, gasps and groans all audible without a hand, pillow or mask to restrain them.

Horangi opened his mouth and let his teeth scrape against the strong flesh and firm tendons of the Austrian neck. Finding a particularly tender portion of skin unburdened by wounds to lay a salacious mark. Sucking, nibbling and licking the skin until it was purple plum and a large obvious blemish on pale skin. Horangi knew the spot was very easily hidden by Konig’s usual attire, but still, the thought of it being there and that, every time he undressed, he would see the mark on him. Amongst his other treasures of wars and battles, a mark of love and passion. It made Horangi’s heart race and his hips thrust in small humps forward into His rear.

Hands growing greedier by the moment, they tucked under Konig’s trousers and pulled out his arousal to the warm air under the blankets. Even without looking, he knew he was at fullmast now. He could imagine it in detail in his mind. Heavy, wide and with several pulsing veins. Circumcised and pale with the skin growing to an angry red nearer to the tip.

Horangi kissed at his masterpiece of a hickey as his hands got to work again. One hand gripping the girth above the other, up and down the warm shaft.

Konig’s hitched breaths drew heavier and heavier by the moment and Horangi’s eyes could only look to the man’s almost hidden face. Only able to see the shape of an unshaved jaw and blushing red cheeks and ears. Horangi soon noted the man’s great muscles tensing and straining, body filling with pleasurable anticipation. His legs curled further as if to squeeze into a ball with the smaller Horangi covering his back like an outer shell.

At some point, in the ocean of pleasure and lust, Konig must have awoken. Horangi could not tell, perhaps too consumed with fervour as well as being yet unable to see his face. But knew it to be so when his chest stuttered as he inhaled a large breath, not in fear but pleasant surprise.

A soft, voice, heavy with sleep mumbled against the pillow, “Mm . . . H-Horangi?”

“Shh,” Horangi hushed, lifting his head to kiss as high as he could reach, which was the skin of his neck near his ear. “I’m here . . . Shall I continue?” His hands having paused at Konig’s awakening.

“Mmm,” The man hummed dully, his back stretching as he wriggled a little lower on the bed to get comfortable. "J-Ja, bitte . . . Yes.” He finally muttered, turning his head as best he could to look behind him.

Horangi was greeted with a face he had the great pleasure of seeing often. Dark brown eyes with flecks of deep orange-red looked to him past heavy eyelids. A slightly crooked aquiline nose and sharp chin made his profile all the more recognisable along with the scar. A jagged, pale line that went over the bridge of his nose and sharply went downwards over his mouth to finish before the end of his chin. The skin raised and puckered around it, the cut at his lip shrivelling to cause a cleft on his upper lip, revealing the whites of his canine.

It was a face Horangi wished to see more of, to kiss, to love and to pray to. But even Horangi knew Konig had his times where the black veil must hide him, just as Horangi very rarely walked around with an uncovered back.

The Austrian’s eyes were so expressive, Horangi could easily read that eyes that dashed between his own and his lips, which meant only one thing. Straining for a kiss, he let Konig lead him, allowing him to focus on his hands that began to move again.

Now mouth busy and awake enough to restrain himself, the man’s noises of pleasure were now at a minimum. Gasps and the faintest of whimpers being the only noise Horangi was blessed to hear. Even so, Horangi knew the man was near his end. Konig usually became fit less near his climax, just as he did when adrenaline was making his hands and knees shake. The man’s body softly wriggled under the sheets, his caressing lips faltering their kisses on Horangi’s.

“I-I’m close . . .” He whispered just so that Horangi could hear.

Horangi felt himself smiling as he took Konig’s bottom lip between his teeth, “Good.”

“W-What about you?” Konig asked, clearly aware of the shape rubbing at him from behind.

Horangi licked at the man’s lips, relishing the taste of him, the shape of him. “Later.” He said simply.

He grumbled beside him but said no more, gingerly kissing Horangi again. One great hand lifted from the sheets, reaching to hold Horangi’s face by him. Part of Horangi wanted to pull his mouth away and watch him. See him so consumed by pleasure, see it in the crinkle in his eyes, the gritting of his teeth and jaw, the flaring of his nose. They were all things he had seen several times before but could never get bored of.

But he supposed, just this once, he could stay like this. Let his other senses tell him what his sight could not. The noises of breaths, cloth against skin. The taste of lust and pleasure, with the hint of morning breath. The smell of faint sweat over his once clean skin. The feeling of his lips on his own, the twitching of him between his hands and Konig’s whole body in his grasp.

Soon, the Austrian gave a sharp exhale, pulling lips away to gasp at the air. His hips jittered as his mind ceased to behave, thrusting into Horangi’s hands just a few more times. There was then a long, lovely, delicious groan that ruptured past Konig’s lips. The large expansive muscles of his back and legs seizing as he came. Horangi welcomed the warm thick strips of spill as they covered his hands and fingers. Doing one last experimental jerk of his wrist to drag out the last drop, relishing the faint whimper of the other man as overstimulation made him twitch.

Finally, the large body in front of Horangi sagged, half onto the mattress and half leaning into him. Heaving breaths now the only noise to be heard in the room.

Horangi kept his arms around the larger man but hands away from his body so that he would not dirty Konig’s shirt.

Eventually the Austrian soon came back to himself, turning his head to look to Horangi once more. The warm sunlight of morning shining through to make his eyes gleam and dark red eyelashes glitter.

“M-May I?” Konig asked, eyes darting to look past sheets and briefs to Horangi’s still twitching member.

“By all means,” Horangi welcomed.

The kind giant carefully moved, rolling onto his back then to his other side until they were face to face and chest to chest. For a moment Horangi missed being the larger spoon, protecting Konig the only way he physically could. But seeing him properly, wide awake and unmasked, more than made up for that.

#horangi #konig #horangi x konig #konig x horangi #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #korangi #fanfic #fanfiction #mlm #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig cod #horangi smut #yaoi #smut

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footprintsinthesxnd · 2 years ago

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Operation Death Wish | Chapter 2

Masterlist

Synopsis: Jake Seresin knew what it was like to lose people he loved, he’d been losing them his whole life. Yet in the midst of chaos as the world as he knew it ended Jake found somebody he never wanted to lose. But what if he’d already lost her.

Warnings: swearing, dystopian descriptions, gore, death, violence, alien descriptions, fighting, sexual images, 18+ (minors dni), angst, some fluff at times.

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“ATTENTION ON DECK!”

Jake watched as all the aviators around him stood to attention, raising his hand to salute as Admirals Kazansky, Simpson and Bates entered the hangar.

“Good Morning,” Admiral Bates began, watching as the aviators in front of them took their seats ready for their briefing.

“You have been called here today for a very important mission. This could help to ensure the survival of life as we know it.” He flicked on the screen behind him showing a map of the United States, and Admiral Kazansky took his place in front of the screen.

“As some of you may know we have recently made contact with another Naval Base after months of radio silence. We made contact with Captain Mitchell from Jacksonville Naval Air Station, who has informed us that they are in a similar situation to us. Admiral Kazansky wants to send a team to make contact with the base so that we can create a stronger relationship. Their resources are our resources and vice versa. I am looking for a group of 7 brave individuals to make the journey across the country. This group will be comprised of 6 soldiers and a medic. Now, I understand that this is nearly a suicide mission, trying to cross the country while the enemy is still at large, but this union could change the fate of mankind. I would appreciate it if we could have some volunteers. I don’t want to pick you but if no one volunteers I will. Once the unit has been assembled I want you to contact the base and discuss what supplies they are short on and anything else you may need to bring. You are dismissed.”

Jake groaned, stretching his legs out from underneath the cramped wooden desk. It reminded him of when he was back in the classroom at school, squished behind a small desk, listening to mind-numbingly boring lectures. He was brought out of his thoughts by Natasha kicking him harshly in the back.

“Ouch!” Jake wailed dramatically, glaring at the female aviator who just glared back at him.

“Are you going to volunteer?” She leant closer to him across her desk, with Bob right next to her. The pair looked at him curiously. The rest of the room had caught on to what question had been asked and his fellow aviators looked at Jake expectantly. Jake didn’t know how to reply, how was he meant to jump at the chance of a suicide mission? Yes, he’d been on them before, dropping bombs from a high altitude and speeding away, but this was something completely different. Jake’s eyes darted anxiously trying to avoid eye contact, his throat dry as he tried to contemplate an answer. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It’s a suicide mission. We won’t be able to move without those things being on us in seconds. There’s no way we can make it all that way without running into them.” He pushed himself away from his desk and hastily exiting the room. He missed the strange looks he received from his colleagues, he missed the shrugs of shoulders and whispered comments. The only thing he could concentrate on now was you. He knew what you were like, you’d sacrifice yourself to help others and as soon as you heard about the suicide mission you’d volunteer. He didn’t want you to go, of course he didn’t, but he always knew that there was no way in hell he could stop you. You were stubborn and boneheaded, which was just one of the many things Jake loved about you. Jake didn’t see that he had any other choice; if you were going so was he. The Admiral had pinned a sheet in the corridor for volunteers and Jake scrawled his name across the crisp blank paper. He felt like he was signing up for an after-school club, he was just glad he didn’t have to wait to see if he’d be picked to join. There was no question that he wouldn’t be going on this mission now and as he made his way to the main gate a growing anxiety began to form in the pit of his stomach. With the tightening of his throat, sweaty palms, and knotted stomach, he felt sick but not in any way he’d felt before. He wasn’t worried for himself, he’d never worried if he came back safely from a mission, only if he went out with a bang. No, this concern wasn’t for himself, it was for you.

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The picture on your desk glared back at you, you felt like Bradley was judging you, like he knew what you’d been thinking and feeling. The bile rose at the back of your throat and the knot in your stomach continued to twist its way into a tight ball. You felt like you were suffocating. Sighing, you turned the picture face down to avoid Bradley’s eyes. You loved him, of course you loved him and you were going to marry him, but you didn’t even know if he was still alive. Besides it wasn’t like you’d done anything with Jake anyway, you were innocent, and it was just the close confinement of the base that was making you think about Jake in this way. There was a light tap on your door, pulling you away from thoughts of Jake. “Sorry to disturb you but this came from Admiral Simpson, the Lieutenant who delivered it said it’s important.” The young nurse spoke quickly before shoving the white envelope into your hand. You thanked her, staring down at the white paper, it had no writing on the front and as you stopped to open the envelope a small letter dropped out.

‘Meeting in the radio tower at 0900’. You had never been called for a meeting with Admiral Simpson before and you couldn’t help the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Checking your watch it read 0730. You still had plenty of time before the meeting. ‘Plenty more time to worry’ you thought to yourself, gathering up some supplies to start your day.

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Natasha watched as Bob fiddled with the computer in front of him, pressing buttons, cursing and then pressing some more buttons.

“You told me you’d got the video working, Bob. You told me you’d spoken to Captain Mitchell.”

“I have,” Bob growled, ripping one of the leads out on the processors and shoving it into another hole aggressively. Natasha raised her eyebrows watching her former WSO worriedly, he’d been cooped up in this dingy damp room for days, hardly seeing his wife and kids. Within a few more seconds the machine hummed to life, the screen glowing through the gloom. Nat could see the smile etched on Bob’s face as he leaned back in his chair, sighing with relief. He checked the connection and signal before waiting for the others to arrive. Bob hadn’t volunteered for the mission, not wanting to leave his wife and boys behind. In a way, he was looking forward to the mission being over and he’d have some free time again. He hadn’t had any family time in weeks and couldn’t even remember the last time he had alone time with his wife, Jo, but he understood the other aviator's reasons for going. Natasha wanted to find her wife. She had only recently been stationed in Miramar when everything went to hell so she hadn’t had a chance to move her wife up here yet. Reuben, Mickey and Javy were also searching for their families. He knew you’d been selected for the mission as the medic for the team, you would have volunteered anyway. The only person he didn’t understand was Jake, he had no reason to leave, no family to look for and yet his name had been the first on the list.

The others flooded in between 0830 and 0845 in a steady stream, all arriving long before the Admiral. When the clock struck 0900 Admiral Kazansky strolled in, closely followed by Admiral Simpson. Both men’s faces were hard and serious, lips set in thin straight lines and an awkward silence fell upon the room. Jake was shifting in his seat, watching the door and waiting for your smiling face to appear through the small glass window.

Bob connected to the transmitter and sent a signal across to the other base. Within a few minutes, a small picture appeared of a man dressed in a flight suit.

“Captain Mitchell,” Admiral Kazansky addressed the man, smiling brightly. “It’s good to see you.”

The image was fuzzy but the man moved to reply to the Admiral. “Good to see you too, Iceman. It’s been too long.”

The two men continued to converse, discussing their situations. “What do you mean you’re the only one in charge?” Admiral Simpson spoke in utter disbelief.

“Well Sir, most of the soldiers deserted at the beginning, they went to find their families, so I’m the highest-ranking member left.”

Admiral Simpson hung his head low, rubbing his hand over his face. Jake watched the interaction, amused. Clearly, this Captain Mitchell liked to give the Admiral the runaround. The conversation continued between the three men and Jake began to lose interest, picking at the fraying lace of his boot. His mind wandered until the video went crackly and the voice at the other end changed.

“Sophie, what’s happening, I can’t see them,” Captain Mitchell said from the other side of the screen. Natasha tensed beside him.

“Hang on, let me have a look,” the female voice said and Jake watched as Natasha sat further forward in her seat. Suddenly, the screen cleared and the Captain appeared again, with a very pregnant woman accompanying him.

“SOPHIE!” Natasha all but screamed, lurching towards the screen. “Sophie, is it really you? Are you ok? And the baby? How are you…?” Sophie looked just as shocked as Natasha, shoving Captain Mitchell out of the way to get a better look at her wife.

“What are you doing there?” Natasha asked, Jake couldn’t see her face but knew from her voice that she was crying.

“When everything fell I was on my way to see you. I didn’t know what to do, but Captain Mitchell found me and let me stay here at the base. I’ve been helping with the electronics and equipment.” From what Jake remembered from Nat, her wife was a schoolteacher he now assumed in IT. Natasha nodded, completely oblivious to the men in the room all watching the interaction. “I love you so much, Nat. We’ve missed you so much.” She rubbed her hand over her large bump. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you either, Baby. Both of you.” Admiral Simpson cleared his throat harshly, distracting the women from their reunion. Natasha stepped away from the screen rather sheepishly, taking her seat next to Jake. He reached over, squeezing her shoulder lightly, giving her a meaningful look. Captain Mitchell reappeared on the screen, continuing to discuss the situation. The plan was for the group to take supplies to the other base. They would make connections and hopefully in time would be able to help each other.

The meeting was just coming to an end, plans had been made and provisions decided upon when you burst through the door looking rather frazzled.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. One of Lieutenant Floyd’s sons fell over and needed some stitches. He’s ok though.” You added, giving Bob a small smile.

“Well, better late than never.” Admiral Simpson sneered, leaning back in his chair, eyes raking over you. You perched on the chair next to Jake and he gave you one of his dazzling smiles.

“Captain Mitchell has just been informing us of their situation and what supplies they will require.” He thrust the list of medical supplies into your hand harshly.

You looked at him a little too stunned to take the paper. “Did you say, Captain Mitchell? As in Captain Pete Mitchell?” Everyone looked at you confused before you heard the Captain's voice through the screen.

“(Y/n)?”

“Dad?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! What is this, some kind of family reunion?” Admiral Simpson bellowed, standing abruptly from his chair and exiting the room, closely followed by Admiral Kazansky who gave you a small smile on his way out.

“I can’t believe we found you,” Pete continued talking to you, unaffected by the presence of the other aviators.

‘We,’ Jake thought to himself, who is ‘we’?

“I can’t believe I found you either.”

“Bradley is going to be thrilled when I tell him, he never stopped looking for you, Darling.”

‘Bradley’, who the fuck was Bradley? Jake was very confused by the conversation. Some of the other aviators decided to leave, planning to get ready ahead of the mission and Bob was desperate to see his little boy after he’d gotten stitches. Natasha and Jake were the only two that stayed.

“Bradley is there with you,” you’d asked it almost as if you were shocked rather than relieved. Of course, you were relieved your fiancé was alive and well, which was something you shouldn’t take for granted in times like these. But you were a little stunned. It was different having the odd flirt with Jake when you thought you’d never see Bradley again, but now the fact that you were going to the base he was at frightened you a little. The engagement ring that hung around your neck felt heavier than ever.

The connection was faltering slightly and your father decided it was time to end the call.

“We never know if they can intercept our communications. I’m so pleased to have found you, Darling and we can’t wait to see you. Keep me posted on your group's activity. You’ll have limited radio service once leaving the base, but try to check in if you can.”

“I will dad, I promise.” And with that, the screen went dark. The three of you stayed that way for a while, both women shocked at finding their loved ones and Jake just confused about who this Bradley fella was. Natasha left not long after, excusing herself as she ran, tears flooding down her face. Jake couldn’t tell if it was because she was relieved to have found her wife or heartbroken that she was so far away.

Jake stood up, brushing off his khakis and moving towards you. He lay his hand gently against your arm, causing you to jump slightly.

“Do you want me to walk you back to the infirmary? I can help you collect the supplies for the trip.” You hummed and nodded slowly, letting Jake lead you out of the radio tower.

“So,” Jake began, trying to make light conversation had never been his forte. “Who’s Bradley?”

You looked at him stunned, opening and closing your mouth like a fish as you tried to comprehend telling him the truth.

“Bradley is my fiancé.”

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#operation death wish #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #maverick #dystopian #dystopian fic

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honeyxmonkey · 1 year ago

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Wip for day 6 of carterdoux week

“Douxie!” Carter whisper-yelled, voice urgent and terrified.

Douxie dropped to his stomach, stretching his hand towards his friend. Thundering footsteps were coming towards them. Carter jumped, catching his hand. Douxie grabbed hold of his wrist with both hands and pulled up. Carter scrambled to help make it easier, bare feet scraping on the wall.

Finally, Carter tumbled into the vent with him, just as that disfigured monster raced past. Douxie had caught him in his arms, holding him tightly as Carter shuddered with fear. They stayed just like that for a while, huddled far back inside the vent, out of reach and out of sight. And Douxie held his friend, whose face was tucked into his chest as he shook from the adrenaline crash and the terror of nearly being caught. Carter might have been crying, but if he was he was doing it quietly.

Douxie wasn’t sure what he could say to help. They’d been running on nothing but adrenaline for three days, and now it seemed like all of Carter’s fight had drained out of him. He was just shaking and scared, somehow looking even smaller in Douxie’s arms. This was nothing like the brave, determined boy Douxie had gotten to know in their months together. Right now he was just a terrified nine year old boy trying to survive a world of horrible monsters that would do anything to kill them.

And Douxie was only ten. He wasn’t that much older than Carter. He certainly wasn’t as brave, or as fast. He wasn’t nearly as clever or resourceful. For all that Douxie had freed him from that cabin in the woods, Carter had been the one keeping Douxie alive ever since. And his normally brave best friend his only friend was shattered and crying in his arms because he was scared. Scared and tired.

Douxie leaned his back on the metal of the vent wall, drawing Carter against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe him. “I know you’re scared. I wish I could make it go away.”

Carter didn’t respond for a long moment. But his shaking dulled and he stilled against Douxie’s chest. After a while, his voice, which was scratchy from tears, broke the silence. “Are you scared?”

Douxie thought about it. He was. He definitely was. He sighed, resting his cheek on Carter’s head. “Yeah. I’m scared. But I was more scared when I was alone. You made it better. Everything is easier to deal with because of you.”

Carter let out a shuddering breath and relaxed against him. “Can we stay here? Just for a little while?”

“Yes,” Douxie wrapped his arms around him a bit tighter. “We can stay here as long as you want to.”

Bonus sneak peek of the art!

they're so LIDDLE

#douxie is kind of meant to be mono and carter is meant to be six #but im taking a lot of liberties in the storyline of the game this is based on #tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #hisirdoux casperan #toa wizards #honey's art #carterdoux #carter howard #tales of arcadia oc #toa oc #toa ocs #honey's wips #carterdoux week 2023 #little nightmares au

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pandoraslove · 2 years ago

Text

Rumor Had It

Finn Shelby x y/n (Part 2)

Summary: Y/n needed a release, it wasn’t the safest, but Finn was the one to help her make sure she didn’t make any stupid mistake. And his family wasn’t as horrible as they seemed.

it had been two days since y/n ran into the shelby’s, since she’d seen Derrick. Today was her first day off in the last 3 weeks. Y/n planned on staying home, but when hit with an unbearable wave of boredom she decided to walk to the Garrison. It was usually empty at this time, so grace shouldn’t be to busy to chat.

Y/n walked into the Garrison and found Grace cleaning the counter.

“Hello, Grace.” She said standing at the counter.

“Hello, y/n. how are you ?” she says.

“I’ve been good. how about you?”

“i’ve been good to and before i forget I have something to give you.” She says walking towards her purse and pulling out a letter. “He told me to give this to you, he said he was your-“ y/n cut her off as she handed me the letter.

“my brother.” She said. y/n hasn’t talked to him since before he left for the war. he never wrote to her after he left. she tucked the letter in the pocket of her coat. “thank you Grace. Well i am going to go get something to eat, would you like to join me ?”

“sure, why not.” she says and they both walk out the bar. “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to you brother?” She asks reaching a small bakery in small heath.

“nearly 10 years.” y/n tell her, she was 5 almost 6 the last time she saw him. y/n remembers he was her best friend and then he left to the war. after that her mother seemed to hold some sort of feeling toward her, She loved her of course but their days were spent arguing, fighting, or simply just ignoring each other. The last straw was when she decided to no longer go to school so she could work and make money. Her mother of course never agreed with y/n’s decision so she gave her an ultimatum leave and work or stay, work, and give her y/n’s earnings.

y/n ended up leaving that night with only her clothes and the little money she had been saving. that was 8 months ago.

“y/n?” Grace says pulling her out of her thoughts.

“yes? sorry I got distracted.”

“it’s alright, I was just asking if you were going to read the letter.”

“oh, not now. maybe later.” y/n says, she nods taking a sip of her drink. y/n was eating a muffin with coffee.

“We should get going.” she tells her once she finished her food, “I’ll drop you off at the Garrison and go home after.” Grace agrees and they both walk back to the bar.

“You seem a little troubled...” Grace says after a little silence.

“what do you mean?” she asks her.

“Ever since you received the letter, you’ve been quiet and distant. Are you afraid of what he has to say?” Grace asks.

Y/n sighs, “My mother and I didn’t leave off on good terms when I was kicked out obviously, but also when I was kicked out my brother wasn’t around, he still wasn’t in contact with us. The last time I spoke to him I was no older than 6, so I guess you can say I’m afraid of what the letter contains.”

“Well,” Grace begins wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulders. “you’ll never know unless you read the letter. why don’t you read it when we get back to The Garrison?” Y/n takes a deep breathe and nods hesitantly.

The rest of the walk back was spent in silence, y/n’s head was running wild with the endless ideas of what was in that letter.

Could it be an ‘I miss my little sister’ letter?

Could it be an ‘I hate my little sister’ letter?

What if it’s a goodbye letter? What if he’s leaving again?

She shook her head slightly in attempt to get rid of all the things bothering and simply focusing on the walk back to The Garrison.

When Grace and y/n walked into The Garrison they walked directly to the empty table in the middle. They both sat down, Grace in front of her. He hands shook slightly as she reached for the letter. She hadn’t even read it yet and she already had tears building up. Y/n was never an emotional person in the sense that she rarely ever allowed herself to cry. There have only been two times she’s ever let herself be that emotional in front of people, When her father died and When her brother left. Y/n swallowed the knot in her throat and slowly opened the letter with shaky hands. she unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.

‘Dear y/n, hello little sister, it’s been a while. I’m pretty sure if I saw you I wouldn’t even recognize you. I’ve come back from the war 4 years ago. Mother told me not to contact you because you had fallen down the wrong path, but so have I. I’ve met this woman, the most beautiful woman ever. It’s taken me a while to realize that I need you in my life, baby sister. Seeing how her brothers protect her makes me think about the things you might need protecting from...’

Y/n clenches her jaw at the statement. It’s a little late now.

‘Although that isn’t the only news I have. Mother fell ill a couple of weeks ago, she passed away on November 3rd. A few months ago, she’s buried next to papa. If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be here for you.

Love,

Your big brother Freddie.’

Y/n set the letter down on the table softly and looked up to the ceiling. She couldn’t sort out her feelings, her chest hurt and so did her head. She tried to stop her intruding thoughts but of course her mind just didn’t allow her to. Grace had left her to finish some work in the back a little before she finished reading the letter, so she was all alone. Y/n got up and grabbed a whiskey bottle from the bar. She walked out taking a swig straight from the bottle and began her journey to river. No, she wasn’t thinking of offing herself. The water calmed her. no matter how disgusting. The pain in her chest hadn’t gone away. Her racing mind hadn’t slowed.

Her mother died hating her. she hadn’t even known she was dead. Her brother needed to see how a brother needs his sister for him to remember he had one of his own. Her mother didn’t want her brother to contact her. maybe she had a good reason.

Y/n had been sitting on the edge for the last 2 hours, the sun was slowly beginning to set. She raised the bottle to the setting sun and chugged the rest of the golden liquid remaining the in the bottle. The bottle that was more than halfway full, now empty. She could barely walk, let alone think. she was walking on the edge of the river when she heard footsteps behind her.

…………………….…………………….…………………….

Finn and Isiah were enjoying the night walking around after work talking about Isiah latest conquest. Y/n wasn’t being stealthy or quiet, so it didn’t take long for them to notice her stumbling on the edge of the river. Her steps were clumsy and she looked exhausted. The boys both stopped in their tracks when they noticed her and watched her for a couple of seconds.

She almost stumbled into the water making her giggle, but it wasn’t the type of giggle filled with happiness or joy.

“Y/n?” Finn calls out softly walking closer to her.

“hmm?” She hums in response.

“Are you alright?” Even though he didn't know the girl she seemed to be in an unstable state and there was no way he would leave her alone. Isiah told Finn he had to leave, leaving Finn and a very drunk y/n alone.

“course, fine.” She says barely making any sense. She was still balancing herself on the edge of the brick wall the separated land and water.

“maybe you should get down, you’ll get hurt.” He says reaching his hand out for her to grab.

“why d’ you care?” She says, “It’s not like you know me.”

“Well, I won’t know you eventually if you fall in the river, now get down from there, y/n.” she sighs dramatically and stumbles off the edge toward Finn. The second he wrapped his arm around her waist to hoist her up, he caught the strong smell of alcohol she had been drinking. “You’re drunk?” he asks, as if it weren’t obvious.

“No, I’m not.” She says narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m fine.” she pushes herself away from him and tries to walk on her own, stumbling and almost falling ever so often. The world started spinning, so she allowed Finn to carry her. “Where are we going?” She asks nearly falling asleep.

“to my house.” Her head shoots up and she tries to get out of his arms, which he allows her to, but one of his arms remain on her back.

“no.” is all she says before y/n begins walking away.

“you can barely take care of yourself and you think I'm going to let you stay alone?”

“you were right I’m drunk, very drunk, I don’t feel seeing your family right now okay? they’ll say I’m a donkey who can't take care of itself.” she explains.

“a donkey?” he repeats slightly confused.

“what? where?” y/n asks drunkingly looking around.

Finn laughs slightly, “Nowhere. come on, you need to rest.” y/n sighs and allows him to lead her. Her head felt heavy, so she let it fall onto Finn’s shoulder. He picked her up once again and walked up the steps to the Shelby home.

Everyone was there, Thomas, Arthur, John, Ada, and Polly. Finn walked into the home carrying the girl so of course it caught everyone’s eye.

“Who’s that?” Polly asks.

“y/n.” Finn simply says setting her down on the couch on the living room.

“What happened to her?” Ada asks.

“I don’t know, I found her by the river, drunk.”

“And you’re surprised by that?” John asks.

“What’s that mean?” y/n says groaning.

“Are you alright?” Ada asks.

“course I am. why am I here?”

“Cause you’re drunk and can barely walk.” Finn says rolling his eyes.

“Not true. I can walk just fine. I need to get home.”

“Won’t it be more trouble if you’re parents walking home like that?” John asks.

“I don’t have any. so it really doesn’t matter.”

“I thought you lived with your mother?” Finn asks. Y/n hated how all the attention was on her. She would still remember this though, she wasn’t the type to forget no matter how drunk she ever got.

“I live alone. my mother kicked me out months ago.”

“Is that why you stopped attending school?” Polly asks. In her drunken state there wasn’t much stopping her from telling them what they wanted to know. She was sitting against the edge of the couch, Finn next to her, his three older brothers across from them and ada and polly sat next to Finn.

“I stopped attending school because I wanted to work.” she explained.

“but now you’re getting drunk.” Thomas says creating his own conclusions.

she let out a laugh, “This is the first time I've gotten drunk to this level, I don’t drink unless I need to let out some stress like any normal person.”

“A normal person doesn’t drink an entire bottle of whiskey.” Finn says.

“so judgmental.” she mumbles.

Arthur and John chuckle, “What was so stressful you had to drink an entire bottle of Whiskey?” John asks.

“Life.”

“Well said.” Arthur says.

“how old are you?” Polly asks.

“...16.”

“how are you still alive after so much alcohol?” John asks.

“A tho- I’m hard to kill.” y/n says. Thomas and Polly both chuckle.

“you should get some rest,” Ada says.

“I’m fine.” she says standing up. “the effects of alcohol never last.” She begins to walk to the door, Finn following her. “I really don’t need a baby-sitter.” She tells him.

“Yes you do, Let’s go.”

#peaky blinder fanfic #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #polly grey #ada thorne #john shelby #peaky blinders

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hereforhalstead · 3 years ago

Text

Period Pains

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Nope! Just fancied some soft!Jay

• Warnings: pure fluff besties

• Summary: Jay looks after you as you experience a rough period, unlike anything you’ve felt before.

• Words: 2482.

• A/N : When I tell you this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever written lmao. I’m so weak for soft!Jay at the moment and had just came on my period when i started this a few weeks ago.. I have a few ongoing requests at the moment that I’m working on, promise I’m not ignoring them but I just don’t want to post them until I’m happy with them!

Hope you enjoy!

You notice the bed beside you dip with Jay’s weight as he joins you, fresh from the shower as you feel the heat radiating from him. You attempt to shift and face him, craving the feeling of having your head against his chest with the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep. You wince as a cramp hits your stomach, slinging your arm across your stomach as a natural reflex for when the wave of pain arises.

Jay places a hand on the edge of your shoulder, gripping round your skin as he moves your hair to one side to place a delicate kiss to the exposed shoulder blade “Stay facing that way, I’ll be able to rub your stomach” he whispers into the nape of your neck and causing a shiver to run down your spine at the softness of his words.

You happily do as you’re told, still in somewhat of a half consciousness as you doze in and out of sleep with the thought of knowing he was there beside you helping the pain drift away.

“Life your hips for me baby” he softly demands, encouraging you to lift your side for just a few seconds to allow him to slip his arm under you to rest a hand on your stomach “You’re burning up” he tuts, removing the hot water bottle you had pressed against you and placing it on the the other side of the bed “Don’t want you getting too warm, you’ll make yourself ill”.

His firm tone made your heart flutter, he always had your best interests at heart and made the smallest of actions seem natural to him. You’d happily let yourself curl up under a blanket with a hot water bottle until you were burning hot but it would always leave you feeling faint and you’d end up cooling off in a cold bath or shower which really defeated the object..

You laid in a comfortable silence with Jay, cursing under your breath as another wave of pain hit "Why am I a girl” you mocked, digging your head further into your pillow as some form of distraction. Jay would take it in his stride, dropping a kiss to your back and chuckling as you swear under your breath to take your mind off the intense cramps.

The motion of Jay rubbing his hand softly over your stomach didn’t stop, you expected it to after a while but it never did. He was constantly tracing shapes across your skin, running his fingernails back and forth under your shirt and laughing as you occasionally flinched if it tickled. Whether it was a placebo affect or not, the cramps would ease under his touch and helped you get a brief moment of sleep.

You awoke just under an hour later to an empty bed, turning over to see the covers thrown back and Jay’s side of the bed vacant made your heart sink. He was the one helping you through this and even though the painkillers had kicked in, you still missed him just being beside you.

You would often be the first one up in the mornings, heading to the gym before work or just wanting to be awake to make him a morning coffee meant you weren’t used to being in bed alone. He was always there with you, even when you teased him for how long the pair of you would spend in bed on your days off, you loved it and wouldn’t want it any other way.

In replacement of Jay’s hand, you must’ve reached for the hot water bottle in your sleep and that was a mistake. You were now sweating, the clothes clinging to your skin as it glistens with sweat, feeling clamy and gross wasn’t what you needed right now.

Trudging over to the bathroom and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror was an instant regret, you were hunched to try and relieve the cramps, hair disheveled and your body was covered in red blotches from the hot water bottle. If you didn’t feel horrendous before, you did now.

You always worried in your relationship that you weren’t good enough for Jay, he woke up and looked perfect, would finish an intense workout and look like a sports model or even concentrating on some paperwork he would look flawless and here you were looking the complete opposite.

You let out a deep sigh, running your fingers through your hair in some attempt to regain a sense of decency but there was no point. Your feelings were being intensified from your period and leaving you feeling worse than ever, wanting to curl up in bed and cry was seeming most appealing but before you can enjoy a good ole pity cry you hear the keys turning in the lock.

Quickly wiping the tears from your face and using Jay’s tshirt that you were currently wearing to try and remove the stains from your cheek was useless, you panicked. Jay seemed to have unnatural ability to tell when you’re not feeling yourself, and this is no exception. Just from taking one look at you he’d be able to tell you were upset and you didn’t want that to be the case, you’d already had a pity day and the last thing he needed was to see you were feeling worse.

You chugged some water that he had left on the side and took another glance at yourself in the mirror, the red blotches had made their way to your neck so were now much more visible and your normal cheery smile was no where to be seen.

“Baby?” you hear Jay call out, rustling around with some bags in the kitchen before making his way over to the room you shared. You were sat on the edge of the bed with your arms folded across your stomach, leant forward in pain as you rested your head on your knees.

His heart pulled at the sight, you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He prided himself on always doing whatever he could to help you in any given situation and not being able to take away the hurt was killing him. He’d helped you through many periods in the past but this was the worst one by far, you’d be able to take some paracetamol and carry on but this was defeating you.

You barely had a chance to respond before you heard the footsteps getting louder as he made his way towards you, letting out a deep sigh as he sees you scrunched over in pain. The noise of bags rustling comes to a stop as he crouches down in front of you, resting his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your knee to hold himself steady as he balances.

“What happened baby?” his smooth voice was music to your ears, he didn’t even have to do anything and he was already soothing you more than you ever could. You sniffed before bringing your attention onto him, watching as his eyes soften when he see’s the redness in your cheeks and the hurt in your gaze.

“Nothing” you lie through your teeth, already knowing he won’t fall for it but thinking it was worth a shot. Instead of giving you the normal ‘are you forgetting how well I know you?’ speech, he simply tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to rest on the side of your face with a doting look “We’ll talk about it later”.

You were grateful for how well he knew you, knowing not to push you and that you weren’t in the mood to be interviewed like a suspect. Normally you loved it, thinking it was cute how he always craved to prove how well he knew you and could tell you were off just by a simple look but in doing this he knew best to leave it until you were ready.

“Did you have to go back to work?” you question, still absentmindidly leaning into Jay’s touch as he gently moves his thumb back and forth to caress your cheekbone. A simple shake of his head made you smile, you were secretly hoping you’d have him to yourself so when you awoke to the empty bed you just assumed he’d been called in.

You couldn’t hide the frown that formed as he removed his hand and stood in front of you, reaching for something on the bed as you stayed hunched over below him. “I got your favourite ice cream” he comments, holding the tub out to you with a grin spreading on his face as your eyes light up “I thought they stopped selling it?” you questioned, already peeling off the plastic from the lid.

“They did in our local, I asked around and drove to the only place they said still sells it” the pride in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard before as he carried on rummaging around the bag before pulling out 3 more tubs “Didn’t know how many you wanted so I stocked up” he chuckled, placing the tubs back into the bag and watching as you nibble round the edge of the container, too impatient to wait for a spoon.

“You don’t want these then?” you looked round to see him holding a family size bag of crisps, a handful of candy bars and even a box of your favourite instant hot chocolate that you used to have as a child. “How did you know” you probe, reaching for the box and examining the text.

Struggling to remember the last time you saw the packaging in a shop, let alone holding it in your hands. The box feeling so much smaller than it used to from when you were young, bounding to the cashier with 5 or 6 boxes to buy with your pocket money.

“On our first date we passed a shop that sold them and I’ll never forget the look on your face. You told me how your mum would always make you one if you were having a bad day and they’d always make you feel better” he smiled and could feel the tears brimming in your eyes.

You and Jay had been together nearly 8 months and he still remembered the tinist detail from your first date, something you had even forgotten about. A little remark you made as you passed the shop on the way back to the car park, not thinking much of it as who would remember about a box of instant hot chocolate that probably didn’t even taste good? Jay did.

“Get into bed and I’ll get some bowls for these” he collects the items and puts them back into the bag, his tone still gentle despite the excitement you knew he had inside from presenting you with everything you needed without being asked.

You shook your head, standing to wrap your arms around his torso. Nestling your head into his chest as you feel it vibrate from a silent laugh “I told you to get into bed baby” you felt the shivers run down your spine as he rested his hand on the back of your head, allowing his hand to roam up and down your back in a soft motion.

“What did I do to deserve you” you mumble into his chest, feeling him rest his head on top of yours as his hand settled on your lower back to push you further into him “So I did good?” you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, pulling back to examine the glowing grin peering back at you as his eyes glistened.

You reached to place a light kiss to his lips, a soft kiss that told him everything he needed to know “Are you gonna make me tell you to get into bed again?” he joked, tapping your back to retract yourself from him. Begrugingly you did so, already feeling the slight cold from the lack of contact you now craved from him.

Picking the bags up from the bed to pull back the blanket, you felt the weight of something still in the bottom. You opened the carriers to see what must’ve been atleast 5 boxes of different sanitary products rolling around in the bags “What’s this?” you asked, confused as to why he went out of his way to buy you the snacks but you never would’ve expected him to know what products to buy you, or atleast try and guess as you always joked about how little men knew about the whole thing.

“I didn’t know if you needed any” his voice was timid, reaching to rub the back of his neck with his hand which was a sign of nervousness you’d picked up on over the past few months . “Jay, how much do you think I bleed?” you were grateful to see the corners of his lips lift in a smile “Well, I realised I’ve never bought you any so I wanted to get a few so I had more of a chance of getting the right ones” he admitted, your hands falling to your sides as you allowed the bag to drop to the floor.

Your feet were bounding over to him before you could even think, all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him as you had no words for everything he had done. “I can’t believe how much I love you” your voice slightly cracked as you felt the lump rise to your throat, as much as Jay loved to care for you, you never would've expected this.

“I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away” you felt him plant a kiss to the top of your head, another one of his small guestures that made you week at the knees without him even knowing. “You’ve helped more than you’ll ever know” you smiled into him, cringing at your cheesy confession but knowing he loves to hear these things from you, adding to his ego of how well he looks after you.

You both stood in a comfortable silence, basking in each other presence with the simplicity of the background noises coming from the streets below. From someone looking on, the way you were standing probably didn’t look very comfortable. The way you were entangled together, your arms hanging from his neck as his moved around your body to press his fingertips in the various parts he knew you were probably feeling pain. When Jay finally breaks the silence, he mutters the words that at the moment sounded better than ‘i love you’ when they fell from his lips “Do you want some ice cream, baby?”

TAG LIST

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#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #one chicago x reader #jay halstead x you

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crossbowking · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Anything (Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader's feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: "I'd love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?" - @pulplorrd

A/N: Thank you all for the love regarding "Honey & Whiskey" - I loved writing that story, but I'm also super happy to finally be able to move onto something else! I very rarely write established Daryl x Reader stories, so this one was super fun to do!

This is part 1/2.

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Sunlight trickled in through the open window, a gentle breeze rousing you from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

Cracking an eye open, you squinted against the sun rays streaming over your features as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. Burying your face into your pillow, you extended an arm out across the mattress, your brow furrowing when you felt an empty space beside you. Pushing up onto your elbow, you rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm before glancing over at the vacant spot.

“D?” you murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep. You cleared your throat, twisting onto your side as you surveyed the rest of the bedroom. “Daryl?” you called out once more, feeling a familiar pinprick of worry when no response followed.

You flipped onto your back with a huff, taking a moment to stretch out your tired muscles before untangling yourself from the sheets and climbing out of bed. Fighting back a yawn, you padded across the floor and out into the hallway, listening for movement. When you heard a sudden clatter, followed by a rasped cuss, the corner of your mouth quirked up.

You made your way towards the noise, feeling some of the tightness in your chest fade with each step you drew near.

The end of the hallway led to a small, yet quaint, kitchen. When you reached the entryway, you faltered, observing the scene before you — Daryl was crouched down, one hand wielding a frying pan, the other scooping up a small mound of partially cooked eggs from off the floor and tossing them back into the skillet.

You stifled back the laugh building up inside you. “Hi,” you remarked, making your arrival known.

The archer’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flash of what looked like embarrassment flitting over his features before he ducked his head back down, effectively concealing his face with his hair. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, quickly wiping up the rest of the egg residue with the sleeve of his shirt.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” you singsonged playfully, eyebrows raised.

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he stood, staring down defeatedly at the frying pan in his grip. “Cookin’,” he finally sighed, shrugging a shoulder up.

“I see that,” you laughed softly, crossing the length of the kitchen as the archer placed the skillet back onto the stovetop. “Smells good,” you remarked, coming to stand at his side.

“Dropped the —” Daryl spat out another curse as he attempted to scrape the burnt egg bits off the bottom of the pan. “— the damn — the damn thing,” he growled exasperatedly, waving at the pan with the spatula he held.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “No one expects you to be Gordon Ramsey,” you teased, thoroughly amused.

But the reference seemed to go right over Daryl’s head as he turned to give you a confused look.

Your brow furrowed. “You know…Gordon Ramsey,” you reiterated pointedly.

“Huh?” the archer grunted, clearly at a loss.

“Oh, come on, you don’t — you’ve never heard of Gordon Ramsey?” you asked incredulously. “You know, Gordon Ramsey! The mean British chef!”

Daryl scrunched his nose up before shaking his head. “Ain’t never heard a’ that,” he rumbled, focusing back on the frying pan.

“Wow,” you murmured in disbelief. “That is so…so devastating,” you sighed, mockingly dramatic.

The archer snorted a laugh, the sound eliciting a rush of warmth through you. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You grinned cheekily, leaning over and resting your head against the curve of Daryl’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, old habits reappearing briefly before he relaxed beneath you and continued stirring the eggs.

An overwhelming sense of calm rushed over you, a feeling only the archer ever seemed to evoke. You closed your eyes, breathing in the comfort he so effortlessly exuded — and it wasn’t in anything he said or anything he did, it was just purely and wholeheartedly who he was. He was grounded, he was stable, he was here.

You’d missed this — you’d missed him.

The past month hadn’t been the easiest — Alexandria was still recovering from the destruction the dead had caused — but things were beginning to look up. The hundreds of slain walkers had finally been removed from within the community, Carl was recovering from his gunshot wound, and the wall that’d been destroyed was almost entirely rebuilt. There was a sense of hope, of purpose, in the air — your people had stared death in the face and prevailed.

But supplies were beginning to wear thin.

Most were hesitant to venture outside the walls, to leave the sanctuary that was Alexandria, and honestly, you didn’t blame them for that — especially after the attack brought on by the Wolves. You’d seen what other horrors existed outside those walls — hell, you’d lived through it. There was a big, bad, scary world just behind the scraps of steel and metal welded together surrounding the community — there was the dead, the undead, and the living.

The latter was most terrifying.

Still, there were mouths to feed, injuries to tend to, and somebody would have to leave eventually. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Daryl volunteered himself — that was just the kind of man he was. Aaron had decided to join him, determined to continue his search for any other lost souls seeking asylum.

But the supply run had taken longer than expected.

They’d only planned to be gone for three days — but after the fourth, fifth, sixth day that rolled by without any sign of return, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. It wasn’t that you thought they couldn’t handle themselves out there, you just wanted them home — you wanted him home. The tightness in your chest expanded with each day that passed, unease gnawing at your insides, fear settling like an anchor in the pit of your stomach.

Then just yesterday — day seven — right before sunset, Daryl and Aaron had come marching through the front gate. Apparently, their intended route had been cut off by a horde, which led to some rerouting, which resulted in an empty gas tank, which forced them to abandon their car, which meant walking the near-fifty miles back home.

“I was so worried,” you suddenly murmured, drawing yourself back to the present as you lifted your head off Daryl’s shoulder and glanced up at him.

The archer’s eyes flashed towards you for just a brief second before focusing downward, turning off the stovetop, and pulling the frying pan off the heat. “I came back,” he finally rasped after a long pause.

“Yeah,” you sounded, nodding your head absently, his words not making you feel all that better.

Daryl caught your gaze once more before he reached out and placed his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “C’mon, let’s eat,” he rumbled, pulling away a moment later.

You made a soft noise in protest, savoring the rare show of affection and earning an amused eye roll from the archer as he turned away — though you noticed the tips of his ears redden in the slightest.

When you’d first arrived at Alexandria, Deanna had provided two houses to be split amongst your entire group. As time went on and the safe haven had proven to be just that, slowly but surely, everyone began branching out and finding their own homes to settle into. Part of you had reservations about moving into one of the empty brownstone apartments, just you and Daryl, but things had been going well between you — really well, actually.

You settled atop one of the stools lining the small island in the middle of the kitchen, resting your elbows against the smooth marble countertop as you watched Daryl move about. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard, along with a fork from the utensil drawer before swinging around and sliding the items towards you. It was almost eerie how natural things felt in that moment — like a glimpse of what life might’ve looked like had the world not ended and the dead had stayed dead.

The archer grabbed the frying pan, turning towards you once more before using the spatula to dish out a hearty helping of eggs onto your plate. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the look of intense concentration masking his features — as though diffusing a bomb and not simply serving breakfast.

Daryl glanced up at you from beneath his hair, doing a quick double-take. “What?” he grunted defensively, appearing increasingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“Nothing,” you quickly shook your head, letting out a soft laugh and picking up the utensil. “Thank you,” you grinned, gathering up a forkful of eggs.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in response, drumming his fingers against the counter as he carefully watched for your reaction, his nervousness evident — and incredibly endearing.

You took a big bite, humming a noise of satisfaction soon after. “Mmm,” you sounded around the mouthful of food before swallowing. “Chef Dixon,” you remarked cheekily.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right,” he rasped sarcastically, though you watched him visibly relax. He remained standing opposite of you, opting out from using a plate and eating the remaining eggs straight from the frying pan instead, scooping up a handful with his fingertips and shoveling them into his mouth.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the pair of you continued eating, sneaking glances at one another while the other wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help yourself — he was just so damn captivating. Even standing before you, devouring a panful of eggs with his bare hands like some kind of wild animal, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip-flop.

You’d never felt this way about anyone in your entire life — even before the end. But now…well, now you’d live this terrifying life a thousand times over if it meant finding him.

The sudden realization of what exactly you were feeling hit you hard, catching you off guard and causing you to choke on the mouthful of eggs you were chewing. Daryl’s head snapped up as you abruptly coughed, covering your mouth as your eyes began to water.

The archer was at your side a moment later. “Hey, ya alright?” he rumbled, gently patting his hand against your back.

You quickly nodded, attempting to wave him off as your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah — yeah, no, I’m —” you coughed once more, the eggs finally dislodging from your throat. “I’m — I’m good,” you managed weakly, wiping at your eyes. “Jesus,” you wheezed as a sheepish laugh slipped past your lips, your coughs finally dying down.

“Ya sure?” Daryl pressed as he pulled his hand away from your back and rested it on top of your shoulder instead.

“No, no, yeah, no, I’m fine,” you quickly brushed him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” you lied, hoping your excuse sounded convincing enough as the feeling of vulnerability threatened to consume you.

If the archer was suspicious, he kept his expression neutral. He nodded once before softly squeezing your shoulder and pulling away — though he lingered nearby instead of moving back to where he’d originally stood.

“Anyways,” you pushed forward, clearing your throat, desperately wanting to ignore the revelation you’d had. “We, uh — we almost finished rebuilding the wall while you guys were gone. Rick’s got a crew working on dismantling the old one, too.”

Daryl watched your expression for a second longer than necessary, like he knew something was up but wasn’t exactly sure what. But after a moment, he relented. “Saw it on the way in las’ night,” he murmured, leaning down and resting his forearms against the edge of the counter. “Looks pretty solid.”

You nodded, huffing a breath. “Abraham’s leading the team — I’m pretty sure you couldn’t drive a tank through that wall.”

The archer scoffed. “Damn right,” he rasped before lowering his gaze, wringing his hands together atop the counter.

You studied his demeanor, feeling a pinprick of unease. “What is it?”

Daryl glanced up, flicking his hair away from his eyes with a quick jerk of the head. “M’, uh — m’ headin’ out again today,” he finally confessed, standing up straight.

You tried to keep your expression indifferent despite your stomach dropping. “Oh,” you voiced dishearteningly. “But — but you just got back,” you pointed out softly, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt.

“I know,” he said, staring down at the counter, avoiding your gaze. “Jus’ a day trip, is all — Tara heard ‘bout a motel strip, maybe fifteen miles from here. Shouldn’t take more than a couple a’ hours. We’ll be in an’ out.”

You nodded slowly, pushing around the leftover eggs on your plate with your fork. “Alright,” you straightened up on your stool. “Well, I’ll come —”

Daryl started shaking his head before you could even finish your sentence, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/N —”

“Come on, Daryl,” you interjected, already figuring his response, swiveling in your seat to face him head-on. “I’m losing my mind here, okay? I’ve gotta get back out there and — and actually do something for this place.”

“Ya do enough already,” he shot back vehemently.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you slid off the stool. “And besides, we’ll cover more ground faster if there’s three of us versus two,” you continued brusquely, gathering all the stray dishes on the counter.

“That ain’t the damn point,” Daryl growled, following you towards the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, and it's also not your decision," you finally snapped.

When the archer didn’t respond, stiffening beside you instead, a wave of guilt washed over you.

Exhaling a heavy breath, you gently set the dishes down in the sink before turning to face him. “Look, I get it,” you murmured softly. “I get it, D. But I can’t just hide out here for the rest of my life,” you explained. “Especially when you’re the one risking yours.”

Some of the fire in Daryl’s gaze diminished, replaced with a heaviness that wasn’t there before as his shoulders drooped.

You felt something tug at your heart as you stepped forward, reaching towards him and brushing away the hair that fell over his face. “I just got you back,” you whispered. “And I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”

When another long moment passed without a response, you were almost certain Daryl was going to object once more — but then, despite the tension in his features, his eyes softened.

“Alright,” he finally rumbled, the word seemingly caught in his throat — as though it physically pained him to say it.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Alright,” you reiterated with a resolute nod.

Daryl sighed, shaking his head as he nudged you forward. “Well, go on an’ get some shit together before I change my mind,” he grunted.

You quickly straightened, imitating a soldier’s stance. “Yes, Chef,” you saluted the archer, breaking the tension.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. “Shut it,” he rasped — though you noticed his lips twitch up a moment later as he turned on the kitchen sink, picking up one of the dirty dishes.

You stood up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss against the archer’s cheek, the skin where your lips touched tinging pink soon after. “Just give me two minutes,” you said, squeezing his arm as you brushed by him.

Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, caught off guard by the gesture. “M’ countin’!” he called after you.

“Yeah, yeah!” you shouted back, allowing the warmth that filled your chest to carry you the rest of the way down the hall.

Within the hour, you were on the road.

A cool rush of air swept through the passenger side window as you tilted your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, basking in the sun's gentle rays. The wind danced amongst strands of your tousled hair before settling them back down against your features. Tucking away the freed wisps behind your ears, you opened your eyes, studying the scenery flashing by.

Rows and rows and towering trees lined either side of the long and winding road you found yourself on, a seemingly endless forest just behind it. The car hummed beneath you, passing by long-since abandoned vehicles and scattered debris, continuing to barrel down an otherwise empty highway.

It was strange — there was something somewhat comforting, something sort of nostalgic about being back on the road. Like a glimpse into another lifetime.

“— and I swear, this dude was like, six feet tall. He was one of those, you know, typical chauvinistic pricks, thinking every woman he meets at a bar wants to have sex with him,” Tara’s voice rang from the backseat, drawing you from your reverie. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I knocked him on his ass — priceless,” she jeered, an air of pride in her tone.

You shifted in the passenger seat, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you looked back at her. “So, is that when you realized you wanted to join the police academy?” you asked curiously.

“No,” Tara shook her head, a smirk toying at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “That’s when I realized I like women.”

A laugh bubbled out of you at her response, Tara’s smile simply widening as she shrugged unabashedly, picking up the map splayed out across her lap. As your laughter died down, you started turning to face forward — though you’d only made it halfway when Daryl caught your eye.

The archer sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the other propped up against the door. His window was rolled down, the breeze from outside stirring the hair that hung just above his eyes. But what grabbed your attention were his eyes, glinting ocean blue as he glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth faintly lifting.

God, the way he looked at you…

You fought back a smile as you faced forward, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in your life to deserve to be looked at like that. The feeling you’d shoved away earlier at breakfast came rushing back, setting your senses ablaze as you worked on controlling your thrumming pulse.

You loved him.

A heaviness grew in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Fuck.

“Here’s the turn,” Tara’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

The motel came into view, set back behind a mass of trees, partially hidden from the main road. The car jostled side to side as Daryl drove it down the gravel driveway, leading to the complex. There was a handful of abandoned cars parked sporadically throughout the small parking lot, some trash and debris littering the area, and four lone walkers ambling aimlessly.

Daryl pulled the car off to the side, parking it near the trees and out of sight from the main road, the engine drawing the dead’s attention. “I got ‘em,” he rasped, unsheathing his hunting knife and sliding out of the car in one swift motion.

Your lip quirked up as you watched him dispose of the dead, as quickly and effortlessly as breathing — he’d been made for this world, you were sure of it.

“You coming?” Tara’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, the hint of a mischievous smile ghosting over her features — she’d clearly been watching you ogle at the archer.

You felt your cheeks flush at the scrutiny. “Mhm, yep,” you nodded quickly, shaking away the embarrassment and climbing out of the car.

Daryl crossed back towards you, wiping the walker blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans and flicking the hair from his face.

“Show-off,” Tara smirked, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she passed him, heading towards the stretch of rooms just ahead.

The archer simply scoffed a breath, rolling his eyes, though you spotted the hint of amusement in his gaze as he waited for you to catch up.

“It’s so weird seeing you without your crossbow,” you remarked, nearing a moment later.

Daryl grunted a breath, swiveling around and falling in step beside you, neither of your momentum’s faltering. “Jus’ wait ’til I find that asshole,” he grumbled, recalling the man he’d met in the woods all those days ago.

“We’ll get you a new one someday,” you smiled, unsheathing your own knife as you approached the motel. “Or you could use the RPG and blow more shit up.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” Tara called from up ahead, pausing in front of the center of the strip.

“Room by room?” you suggested, stopping at her side. “One of us can stay on watch, maybe check these other cars for supplies?”

“I got it,” Daryl offered with a nod, re-holstering his gun. “I’ll see if I can get any a’ these guys up an’ runnin’, bring ‘em back home.”

“There’s also an empty gas canister in the trunk,” Tara motioned towards their car. “Salvage what you can,” she shrugged before turning on her heel and heading towards the first room.

You moved to follow, only stopping when Daryl reached out and grabbed your wrist. You turned, spotting the worry in his gaze he tried to hide. “Ya be careful, ya hear me?” he rasped, sliding his grip down and squeezing your hand softly.

“I will,” you nodded, squeezing back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a fraction.

God, you loved him.

The three of you moved quietly and efficiently — you and Tara swept through each room, working your way down the entire motel strip while Daryl picked through the parking lot. The building had been left practically untouched — and besides the supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the motel itself, you’d even found luggage and suitcases left behind by guests who’d apparently vacated in a hurry.

By the time you'd made it halfway down the strip, the packs you brought had been filled to the brim.

“Holy shit-balls, this place is a goldmine,” Tara huffed, tossing her backpack down beside yours in the trunk of your car.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it,” you shook your head before scanning the parking lot for Daryl — you spotted him hunched over the hood of a car, his hands buried in the engine, tinkering around. “We should use some of the suitcases we found for the rest of the stuff,” you continued, focusing back on Tara.

“Cool beans,” she shot you a thumbs-up before motioning towards the center of the strip. “Wanna check out the front office before we hit the other half?”

“Sure,” you nodded, slamming the truck shut and falling in step with her as the two of you headed back towards the motel.

When you felt someone watching, you glanced over your shoulder, catching Daryl’s eye — his furrowed brow softened, the corner of his mouth twitching as you sent him a wink and turned back around.

God damn it, you loved him.

Dividing either side of the motel strip was the front office, built just beyond a large swimming pool. There was a tarp draped across the pool, covering most of the swampy green water, though debris floated around the murky edges. Your nose scrunched up as you passed, a funky smell wafting from the mucky water.

“Gross,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before you glanced over at Tara. “So, you and Denise, huh?” you asked curiously, waggling your eyebrows.

Tara huffed a breath, but you didn’t miss the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I could say the same about you and Dixon,” she shot back, fighting off a smirk.

You rolled your eyes despite the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh, come on —”

The rest of your sentence died away, falling from your lips when a sudden growl sounded, breaking the otherwise silent air. You stopped short, Tara halting just beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you strained your ears, listening for where the noise had come from.

Sure enough, a moment later, a lone walker stumbled into view, coming out from behind the front office.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling Tara do the same. “Hang on, I got it,” you motioned for her to stay put as you jogged ahead, pulling your knife from the holster around your waist. You braced your arm against the biter’s throat, plunging the blade of your knife into its skull in one, swift motion before it dropped at your feet.

But just before you turned to head back, you heard it again — snarling.

Except for this time, it wasn’t just one.

Your stomach dropped as a small herd, about a dozen dead ones, suddenly rounded the corner behind the office, their sights set on you.

“Oh fuck,” you swore, stumbling backward, vaguely aware of Tara yelling your name. But when you spun around, you realized that she too was no longer alone. “Look out!” you shouted, motioning to the two additional walkers quickly approaching from behind her.

As she turned away from you, fighting off the dead that’d snuck up on her, you took off into a sprint, putting some distance between you and the horde.

Tara stabbed her knife into the temple of the first, though the second was on her just as soon. It gripped its fingers around her forearm, pulling her flesh closer and closer towards its snapping jaw…

Just before it could sink its teeth into her skin, you managed to grab it, twisting a fistful of its hair around your fingers and yanking its head backward. You drove your blade through its decaying forehead, stilling it instantly.

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

A/N: EEEEEEK! Y'all know me and how much I love cliffhangers :)

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

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nightmaresofthedark · 3 years ago

Text

The Centre: Part 1

You live in a society made entirely of dominants and submissives. Every 16 year old takes a test that determines which of the roles you fall into, and don’t find out the results until your 21st birthday. You’re a submissive, and you find yourself becoming the property of Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor. Will you manage to escape, or will you become a mindless whore, bending to the will of the dominants? The sound of chains scraping against the concrete floor fill the hallway with an almost unbearable amount of noise. Doors either side of you, normally emitting the desperate cries and pleads of the people locked away behind them fall silent, the knowledge of what the sound of chains coming down the usually deserted hallway means, making them go quiet in respect.

Or perhaps in mourning.

Fear rattles through your body as you advance slowly down the corridor, your steps limited to shuffles by the rusty cuffs attached to each of your ankles. Your hands are clasped tightly together in front of you as coarse rope rubs into your wrists, tying them together.

You feel vulnerable. Exposed. Terrified. Like you’re walking to your certain death, or even, a fate worse than death. Every step you take makes dread build up inside of you; makes your heart beat faster inside of your chest; makes your hands shake and sweat pool on your palms. You have no escape, no way out; the guards either side of you are too big, too strong and you’re just too weak and battered to even contemplate putting up a fight. And so, you shuffle along hesitantly, knowing that every small step you take now is leading you directly to your new life.

To a life you have been dreading since the day you had arrived at the Centre.

To a life as someone’s submissive, as someone’s sex slave or domestic submissive. To a life having all freedom and free will stripped from you for the pleasure of someone else, for a dominant who, from the minute you become their property, can and will run your life however they see fit.

Submissives have no power in this world, no right to free will, no rights at all. Dominants have all the power over submissives, and whatever they want to do with that power, they can do, with little to no consequences.

When you turned 16, you took a test to determine which role in society you were to take. You didn’t find out the results until you were ripped from your bed the day you turned 21, thrown into a van and marched through the doors of the Centre to begin your training as a submissive; training that was to continue until a dominant became interested in you and ultimately bought you, taking you home to become their property.

The Centre is a training institution for new submissives with buildings all over the country. Every submissive is taken to this building to undertake training, such as: how to address dominants, how to act in public and in private, how to be a good submissive, and how to hold positions for hours on end. No submissive is allowed to be bought until they have completed 6 months of training, to make sure the submissive has had sufficient training to please the dominant they’re bought by.

Dominants had it easy compared to submissives: they had a weeks training in their own home by an experienced dominant teaching them how to safely care for a submissive, and after that, they were free to fuck and train and ‘care’ for a submissive however they pleased. They had power, rights, free will, freedom, and no consequences for stepping out of line.

Submissives, on the other hand, are completely at the mercy of the dominants. If a submissive is unclaimed, any dominant who chooses to can do whatever they want with that submissive, but when a submissive is claimed, only the dominant they belong to can touch and speak to the submissive.

It is never a rare sight to see a naked submissive being punished publicly for misdemeanours and being unruly; to see a smiling submissive purposefully breaking an unimportant rule their dominant set out for them just to be thrown over their knee and spanked; to see a scared, shivering submissive crying out in agony as a cane is smacked against their naked bottom while they’re being throat fucked by some of their owners friends.

There are a huge difference in the ways people take being a submissive; some enjoy it, and really embrace their role in society, which is why you will see smiling collared men and women taking their punishments or rewards gladly; others hate being a submissive, hate having their free will taken from them no matter how well their dominants treat them.

You fall under the latter category, desperate not to become the property of the dominant who has bought you, which has led to your slow, lonely walk down the hallway.

A large iron door approaches, and the sound of keys rattling from within the pockets of the guard to the right of you makes you freeze. Every muscle in your body tenses, and every thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to escape, to fight and live your own life away from this society and it’s backwards roles.

But, the moment you freeze up and stop shuffling, both of the guards grab your arms and drag you to the door, not hesitating for even a moment before they’ve got it open and they’re pushing you into the next room, where all your nightmares that wake you up at night become a reality.

Two women stand next to the man who oversees this Centre. The blonde woman stands tall and strong, her toned muscles filling the button-up shirt she wears as she stands with her arms crossed. She looks strong, hard, but her blue eyes betray a hidden softness, perhaps one you will come across if she ever shows you mercy. In contrast, the raven haired woman next to her stands with her hands clasped in front of her, her emerald eyes hard and stern, depicting a strict and precise demeanour.

The three people stand in silence as you’re dragged over to them and pushed onto your knees roughly. A guard grabs your hair in his fist and uses it to pull your head down harshly so you avoid eye contact with the dominants above you; one of the most important rules you learn when you first arrive at the Centre: never look a dominant in the eye unless given explicit permission, always keep your eyes and head down in submission.

Your knees begin to ache as the cold of the hard floor seeps into your bones and makes you shiver. Your naked arms and legs erupt into goosebumps, and your teeth begin to chatter as you feel the stares of the dominants above you on your skin, their eyes working their way across every inch of your body.

You can hear the trainer talking, but his voice is muffled and unclear in your ears as you stare at the floor desperately trying to avoid looking at the tall heels in front of you. Thoughts of escape and what it would feel like to have your free will back run through your mind. Images of living in your own house with the ability to walk outside without a collar or being naked; of going to the grocery store and buying whatever food and drink you wanted; of having friends that you could drink and party with; of having a girlfriend and maybe even a wife who doesn’t take complete control of your life fill your mind, making you wish for a simpler time, a simpler life with freedom and no rules.

You find yourself getting lost in the images of your dream life, of your imaginary wife and kids, of your freedom and ability to do what you wanted, not what someone else wanted. You wish you were strong enough to fight, to struggle, to try everything to escape; but you know it would be futile, and only end in agony and humiliation for you. And so, you just let yourself get lost in the images of another life, letting your muscles relax and your head drop further as the trainer drones on about your training and how well you had performed in tests, no doubt telling the two dominants that you were untouched, which will only drive your price higher. Virgins always get sold for a higher price, especially if they’ve done well in training, which, out of fear of punishment, you have done.

You were almost the definition of a perfect submissive; apart from the fact that if you ever get the opportunity, you will be running as fast and as far from this life as you can.

A hand gripping your chin and tilting your head up startles you from your thoughts. A gentle thumb caresses your cheek, but the emerald eyes staring down at you are hard and stern, a big contrast to the soft movement of her thumb.

“Hello darling,” the woman purrs, her voice calming even to you, “I’m Lena, and this is my wife Kara.”

You risk a glance at the blonde, but quickly return your gaze to the floor as you nearly make eye contact.

Lena continues, and says the one sentence you have been dreading ever since you were dragged through the doors of the Centre:

“We’re your new dominants.”

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #top kara danvers #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #top lena luthor #supergirl #supercorp #supercorp x reader

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anniebrainrots · 3 years ago

Text

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past.

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warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n

wc: 3.2k

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,)

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You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin.

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off.

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it.

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him.

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back.

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come.

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him.

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it.

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else.

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations. It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out.

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?”

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?”

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him.

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night.

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed.

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could.

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age.

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?”

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.”

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort.

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time.

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months.

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies.

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed.

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused.

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had.

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks.

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down.

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages.

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace.

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent.

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?”

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.”

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind.

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory.

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.”

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—”

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?”

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?”

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’.

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother.

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.”

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep.

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment.

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.”

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops.

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil.

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him.

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse.

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks.

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person.

“I know.”

#techno x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #c!techno #dream smp techno #sbi family dynamic #sleepy bois x reader #sbi x reader #technoblade

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried.

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou.

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.”

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.”

“Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.”

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid! And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry.

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes.

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!”

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over.

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.”

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.”

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time.

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened.

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him.

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed.

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance.

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they?

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk.

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift.

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest.

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.”

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you?

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?”

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!”

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck.

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.”

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time?

Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.”

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?”

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.”

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium.

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving.

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending.

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours.

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.”

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.”

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.”

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair.

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.”

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.”

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.”

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.”

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.”

“Good.”

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir.

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off.

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!”

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once.

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.”

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight.

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before.

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.”

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.”

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!”

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?”

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile.

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.”

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?”

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in?

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!”

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!”

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone.

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet.

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again.

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !!

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here. i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x y #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha series #mha soulmate au #soulmate au #bakugou imagine #bakugou series #bakugou fic

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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.

------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’.

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission.

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got.

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are.

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open.

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well.

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow.

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure.

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does.

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you.

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran.

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away.

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house.

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst.

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction.

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

“What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened.

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat.

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path.

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho.

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?”

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old.

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets.

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job.

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again.

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling.

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out.

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family.

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time.

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door.

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles.

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

#kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts mafia smut #kim taehyung mafia smut

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