Take My Hand | KNJ ONE-SHOTS & IMAGINES

My Baby's Got A Gun

He's always watching. You can feel his presence surround you constantly. But you're not afraid. Never that. He'd never ever hurt you. You can live unafraid because you know he will always protect you.

"Hey, sweetheart! Where're you headed?" A male voice sounds off to your right. You don't look towards the voice. There's no need. Besides, if you look, that may encourage him.

"Hey, gorgeous! Need some company?" Damn. He's persistent, isn't he? Usually the catcallers stop after you ignore their first attempt, muttering things under their breath that would make their mothers feel very proud of the sons they raised. You keep your head held high. Looking down would insinuate weakness. They prey on that. Besides, he's nearby. You'll be okay.

"Hey, bitch! I'm talkin' to you!" You hear a series of quick steps before your arm is grabbed. You're forcefully spun to face this brute of a man. Oh, dear. Pity. The poor guy is just as ugly as the words he's spoken. No wonder he's so angry. Fate has dealt him a cruel hand, in more ways than one.

"Let go." You attempt to slip your arm out of his grasp, but he tightens his grip, squeezing so hard that it's actually a little painful. "Let me go!"

"Yeah, you're all alone, aren't you? It's just you and me." The man looms over you, his face twisting into something even more hideous.

For just a second, a quick burst of fear shoots through your veins, making your heart quicken its tempo in your chest. But then you remember, he is here. No doubt he'll step in, any second now. So keep your cool. Keep that poker face.

You feel a smile slip across your face, as easy and sweet as can be. "I'm telling you, you should really walk away."

"No way. Not until after I have a little fun with you." Jesus, this guy's a real piece of work, ain't he?

You see a flash of shadow behind the man. Relief floods your chest. You hate to admit that you were worried he wouldn't show up. Silly. He always does.

"Yah. What's going on over here?"

The man before you quickly swivels around, tsking his tongue in annoyance. "Step—"

In the next instant, the man is stumbling back, crying out in pain. He presses his hands against his nose, groaning. He throws a wild swing, but he misses, of course.

You scurry away from the impending carnage, smiling to yourself. This asshole will be ground to a pulp soon. "I told you to walk away."

"Did he hurt you?" His voice rings out clear in the quiet. You'd know it anywhere.

"He grabbed my arm, called me a bitch." You don't bother concealing the smile that has quirked your lips upward.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, a strangled gasp. You walk away as screams of agony shatter the stillness.

A few seconds later, you hear footsteps coming from behind you. It's him. "Hey," you say. "Thanks for backing me up."

"Of course." He sheds his jacket and slips it around your shoulders, shielding you from the wind. You draw it tighter around yourself, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne.

You duck your head, biting your lip. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Save me. Every single time." You let out a chuckle. "I know you must get tired of me."

"Never." He says this with such conviction that you know he means it. "I don't mind shadowing you. Then I'll know you're safe. Please don't worry."

"Will you always be my shadow?" you ask, the words barely a whisper.

"Always."

When his hand touches yours, your heart skips a beat. You've never touched before. An electric shock courses through your nervous system, making your body feel like a live-wire. He pulls you to a stop, gently holding you steady when you stumble. Your breath catches when you realize that your faces are a breath apart. You squeeze your eyes closed as he leans in.

When your lips meet, it's like the stars have aligned. You feel his hands tighten slightly against your back. When you finally come up for air, he presses his forehead against yours. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your face.

You keep your eyes shut. You've never seen his face. Now that the moment is here, you're overwhelmed. You can't look at him.

"Open your eyes." Oh, shit. Has his voice always been so commanding? "Look at me." You shake your head and he chuckles. "Please look at me." He has that gentle tone again.

You take a breath and slowly open your eyes. "Oh..." you breathe, feeling your face flush. "You're beautiful." He really is. His skin is smooth and unblemished, and his dimples make butterflies swirl in your belly. You had always imagined him to have a hard appearance. Given what he does for you, you were expecting to meet a monster of a man. But he's the complete opposite. He looks...so kind. You can't imagine someone with this face hurting people. You're struck by his visuals.

He ducks his head, his cheeks flushing. "It's nice to finally see you face to face."

You take his hand, pulling him in again and pressing your lips to his. "You don't have to hide in the shadows anymore."

He pulls back, a dark cloud passing over his expression. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" you ask.

"For doing what I do. I know it's not ideal in the least." He purses his lips. "I have no right to even stand in front of you. There's blood on my hands."

"I don't care." You cup his cheeks with your palms. "You've always protected me. You have every right to be with me. You're stuck with me, and that's it."

He smiles and it's like the heavens have opened. "There's no place I'd rather be."