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imagineyourworld · 3 years ago

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The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

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-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered.

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued.

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander.

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.”

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do.

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.”

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind.

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.”

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect.

“Of course, General. What is it?”

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).”

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show.

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out.

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him.

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo.

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him.

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.”

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say.

“That makes sense”, he finally said.

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier.

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers.

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan.

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested.

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings.

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.”

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead.

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager.

“Will do, Commander.”

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front.

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin.

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him.

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile.

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation.

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself.

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked.

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee.

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human.

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit.

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?”

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you.

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.”

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down.

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.”

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.”

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private.

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips.

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.”

The Gonchee at the front nodded.

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour.

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called.

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled.

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did.

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.”

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way.

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.”

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous.

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.”

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit.

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.”

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely.

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.”

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe.

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless.

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”.

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable.

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately.

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself.

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire.

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature.

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up.

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better.

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now.

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin.

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.”

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed.

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his.

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position.

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked.

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again.

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that.

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress?

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.”

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men.

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge.

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting?

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation.

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?”

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.”

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint.

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”.

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent.

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up.

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.”

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi.

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way”

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him.

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.”

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned.

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table.

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but.

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you.

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.”

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second.

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee.

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more.

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?”

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur!

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.”

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend.

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe.

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone.

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you.

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.”

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest.

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.”

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again.

“There’s only one bed.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself.

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?”

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed.

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.”

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.”

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him.

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover.

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state.

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence.

Now he had no choice but to answer.

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends.

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.”

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say.

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued.

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible.

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded.

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe.

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso.

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe.

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process.

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night.

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee.

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious.

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered.

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain.

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds.

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you.

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face.

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.”

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away?

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him.

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe.

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone.

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard.

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care.

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress.

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together.

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What does it look like? I’m changing.”

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him.

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?”

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless.

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.”

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.”

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again.

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to.

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!”

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours.

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream.

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did.

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder.

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours.

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted.

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes.

“What is it, mesh’la?”

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him.

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously.

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth.

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.”

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face.

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one.

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder.

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head.

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.”

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist.

“I think they already believe us, cyare.”

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut.

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while.

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper.

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled.

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.”

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.”

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all.

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

#wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe imagine #wolffe imagine

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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

Text

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs.

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc..

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol)

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious.

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water.

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment.

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads.

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame.

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back.

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm.

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?”

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).”

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!”

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest.

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples.

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up.

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!”

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face.

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow.

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-”

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!”

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.”

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside.

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly.

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out.

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart.

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe.

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk.

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead.

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head.

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did.

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn.

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy.

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off.

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber.

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs.

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features.

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn.

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh.

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.”

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties.

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away.

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart.

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer.

It seems Bokuto fucked up.

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves.

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved.

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn.

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble.

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut.

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you.

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you.

Sadly, that doesn’t work out.

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features.

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.”

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.”

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you.

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed.

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach.

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you.

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain.

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road.

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully.

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes.

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up.

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop.

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes.

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips.

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open.

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!”

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in.

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all.

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming.

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream.

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace.

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!”

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness.

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!”

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock.

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock.

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly.

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.”

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima.

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.”

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.”

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.”

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.”

#yandere bokuto #bokuto koutarou #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto imagines #bokuto haikyuu #hybrid au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au

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green-socks · 3 years ago

Text

Endless Nights

Pairing: Benny Miller x gn!reader (no descriptions or pronouns)

Summary: You and Benny can't seem to get enough of each other's company. Could tonight be the night you find the courage to do something about that crush?

Words: 2,101

Warnings: Nudity but not the sexual kind, food/eating. Almost zero editing and a tired writer.

Notes: I don't always participate in Writer Wednesday, but when I do I take one look at the picture, get an idea and then go completely off the rails. Sorry. So the pic doesn't really have a lot to do with the rest of the fic but I hope that's okay. For this week's @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday, thanks for organizing it every week!

I had the idea for midnight shopping at the supermarket with Benny and then realized I didn't want the night to end there... So it didn't. I actually like this piece, even if it probably suffered a lot from my fast writing and non-existent editing. Reader is mentioned having shorter legs than Benny but other than that I think there are no descriptions or pronouns used of reader, lmk if I'm wrong.

MASTERLIST

You and Benny have been driving around aimlessly for a couple of hours already, taking turns in picking the music, and talking about this and that while sometimes falling into a companionable silence. It still amazes you how easy and comfortable everything is with him. You have never felt like this with a crush before, used to the feeling of always obsessing over what you felt like you could and couldn’t say or do, or spending a lot of time and energy into trying to figure out what the other thought.

No, with Benny you don’t have to pretend anything or force yourself to keep the conversation running in fear of those horrid awkward silences, because both of you know that you can talk for hours on end when the mood strikes. You met through mutual friends only a few weeks ago, but the connection was clearly there. As was the obvious mutual attraction.

Strictly speaking, though, you and Benny are just friends. Nothing has ever really happened to indicate otherwise in any case. But friends don’t usually try this hard to find any excuse just to hang out, nor do you stay up late every night talking to your other friends. And when you hang out in a group you always seem to gravitate towards one another. What’s more, somehow it always seems to be just the two of you left at the end of the night, often not even noticing the others leave.

Your interactions always border on the line of obvious flirting with your touches and already formed inside jokes, but neither of you ever dare do anything that couldn’t be brushed off as innocent behavior between friends. You guess you’re both just kind of scared to take the leap - you have been burned before, and so has he.

It’s not that you doubt your own feelings for Benny, or indeed his feelings for you. Even you have to admit that he does seem pretty interested in you, but you still wave away your friends’ squeals of “he’s totally in love with you!”, mainly not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

Because a small part of you still finds it a little hard to believe; someone so handsome and funny and kind wanting to be with you? What if he likes you, but just not as much as you like him? What if you were just a second choice for someone you really like until something better comes along - again? That scares you, both of you.

Tonight has been like many other nights lately; you had been to the movies with some of your friends, but after the movie ended you had been grasping at straws to come up with a way to continue the night so they (Benny) wouldn’t go home just yet. Benny had helpfully suggested just driving around and seeing if any ideas came to mind.

Santiago in turn had rolled his eyes at you two knowingly (making both you and Benny fluster and try to fake complete nonchalance) before saying good night and leaving with the others, who apparently didn’t feel the compulsive need to continue spending time together.

--------

The sun has gone down already but you two are still enjoying each other’s company too much to go home yet.

You end up in the 24/7 supermarket parking lot, craving a midnight snack. You are reminded of your teenage years, when you used to hang around different parking lots, popping into the store to buy a soda or a candy bar, spending all day outside with friends.

The only other customers doing their midnight shopping are tired people just off their shifts or young people staying up late just for the hell of it, much like you and Benny are, in fact. You wander around the huge store together, pointing out different products you’d like to try and reviewing stuff one of you already has tried.

Before long you realize that you have already spent almost forty minutes idly wandering around the supermarket, collecting new soda or chip flavors to test. Neither of you thought to grab a basket at the entrance, so your arms are starting to get a bit full.

“Benny, do you think this might be enough?” you ask while struggling to maintain your hold on the different bags of chips.

Benny looks back at you from where he is pondering over whether to get some ice cream. “Huh, I guess. I do still wanna get a sandwich, though!” he exclaims and promptly takes off in the direction of the deli counter where they sell sandwiches and salads left over from the day.

You try to keep up with his long strides, certain that you must look a bit comical half-running after a man with your hands full of treats. Oh, well. Benny often complains about how much focus it requires of him to “modify his steps” to fit your much shorter legs, and he always forgets about it when he gets excited.

When you catch up with him, he has already picked a sandwich for himself and one for you. “I got you salmon, that’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, thanks!” you say a little breathlessly after your speed-walk, taken that he remembers.

As you finally get to the cash register and start loading your stuff in your bag you see Benny sneak one more candy bar among the rest of your purchases. For someone in such good physical shape he sure does like his candy.

“Where to next?” Benny inquires as you get back to the car.

“Hmm, how about this one waterfront type swimming spot? It’s pretty secluded, has a pier, and there’s a nice view to the sea. I sometimes like to sit there on the cliffs to watch the sun go down,” you suggest, and offer him directions to the place.

It’s a short drive and you show Benny where to park his car. Even though it’s somewhere around 1 a.m. and the sun went down hours ago, the night is still light enough that you can easily see where you’re going and it doesn’t feel like you’re just sitting in the dark.

You settle down on the small pier with your sandwiches and sodas and chips and munch away happily.

Benny hands you the candy bar you saw him grab earlier at the cash register “for dessert”. It has a cheesy text on the packaging about giving this to someone special. He grins and shrugs, “I know you love these”.

It’s such a simple gesture but you can’t help feeling really flattered and even more smitten with him than you already were. You don’t read too much into the text on the packaging, but even the fact that he would buy you a candy bar he knows you love - just because - warms your heart.

(What you don’t know is that the candy bars have lots of different texts to choose from, and that Benny specifically picked “give this to someone special” instead of “give this to a friend”. There was also “give this to someone you love”, but Benny worried that might scare you off.)

--------

After you’re both done with snacking you try to think of what to do next, still reluctant to pronounce this night to be over, you get an idea.

“You know what I would really like to do right now?” you ask Benny, looking out over the water that looks so tempting. “Go swim,” you announce, turning to look at him.

“You don’t have a swimsuit with you, do you?” Benny asks, turning to look at you too.

“No… But there’s no one here,” you point out with your eyebrows raised in challenge.

Benny looks at you for a few beats with a blank expression on his face, before shrugging “Alright,” and throwing off his hoodie and t-shirt, jeans following next. “What are you waiting for?” he shouts over his shoulder as he jumps from the pier into the water.

You’re left sitting there with your mouth open, blinking rapidly as you try to catch up with the fast turn of events. Shaking your head, you stand up and shrug off your clothes before quickly running after Benny and getting into the refreshing water.

The night is still warm, and the water feels wonderful. You swim to catch up with Benny.

“You know, it’s pretty dark here but I’ve basically seen you naked now,” he remarks, waggling his eyebrows, and you snort with laughter.

“Benny, you’re not allowed to make me laugh in the water or I’ll drown,” you try to say sternly.

“Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t let you drown,” he answers in a surprisingly serious voice.

Suddenly the energy between you is full of.. something. Something new and buzzing, sort of scary but also exciting. Something you can’t quite explain. You’re swimming around each other, looking at each other intently, but not daring to say anything that would break the moment and burst the bubble.

Someone else does that for you.

A couple of teenage girls, you’d guess around 18 years old, stumble on to the pier and immediately notice you two in the water. The other girl lets out a shriek and tightens her hold on the towel around her, and before you can even try to reassure them that everything is fine, they run off giggling and shrieking some more. Evidently, they had had the same idea for a nighttime swim but found the place already occupied.

“Yeahhhh, maybe we should put some clothes on before someone calls the police,” Benny suggests dryly.

You two climb out of the water giggling and grinning broadly. You don’t have any towels with you since you didn’t exactly plan this impromptu skinny-dipping session, but Benny gives you his hoodie to help keep you warm.

Sitting back down next to Benny you’re even closer together now than earlier, ever so slowly inching closer and closer to each other. Both of you think you could pass it off as huddling for warmth if the other were to question it, but somehow you know that won’t be an issue.

Soon enough you’re snuggling together on the waterfront overlooking the sea. You stay quietly like that for some time, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more. It’s hard to tell when the world is so still and quiet around you.

Suddenly you think that this is it, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. In all honesty you sort of enjoy the pining stage of new relationships, but right now you feel like you might burst if you keep these feelings inside you any longer.

You turn and burrow your head into the crook of his neck and decide that you will have to take the leap now. You start pressing gentle kisses on his neck and hear Benny’s breath hitch at the first contact of your lips on his skin. He goes still as a statue, but you can feel more than hear his unsteady breathing at your actions. You’re practically vibrating with nervous excitement as you work your way up to his jaw and towards his lips.

Taking one final deep breath you close your eyes, not daring to look at Benny in the eye right now, as you bring your lips to meet his.

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, and yet your head is swimming and your whole body is buzzing with it as you melt into each other. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, which just proves that everything really is different - better - with Benny. You pull away when you find yourself quickly out of breath just from feeling so much.

You finally dare to open your eyes to find Benny gazing at you with a dazed expression that surely mirrors your own and you slowly beam at each other, not feeling the need for words just now. Maybe you couldn’t even find them if you tried.

You settle back against his chest and the two of you stay like that for the rest of the night, sometimes spending long moments just kissing each other, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes just enjoying each other’s presence.

--------

Around five in the morning, when the sun is already getting up, you finally start to really feel the need for sleep. But this time it doesn’t feel wrong to leave and go home, since you’ll be going home together.

Later that day you wake up to a good morning, sweetheart in Benny’s arms where you fell asleep on his couch, tired but happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

#benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x reader #benny miller x gn!reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #i still don't know what i'm doing #i accidentally wrote something #writer wednesday #garrett hedlund fanfiction

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 3 years ago

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fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion.

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit.

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”.

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.”

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins.

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.”

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me.

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

read all my lyric analyses here

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triptuckers · 3 years ago

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Two Homes (part 1/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope! Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary: you live in Ketterdam, and your life is alright. things get excited however, when you receive royal mail Warnings: none Word count: 2K A/N: first time doing a (mini) series and I am ✨ nervous ✨ but this idea has been sitting in my drafts for too long and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m planning on writing seven parts :) enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST: @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling add yourself to my tag lists here

You would always be torn between leaving Ketterdam, and staying in the city. You have a good life, it’s comfortable. Given that your father is one of the wealthiest merchants of the city, you could basically get anything you wanted. You had more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime.

But still, you weren’t happy. Your father may have a lot of kruge, he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold. All your life you’ve known him as a greedy, rude and unfair man. You’d give up all of your kruge in a blink of an eye if you could trade it for a different life.

Your friends didn’t understand. They told you to be grateful. That many would kill to live in a mansion like you do, and to have the amounts of money your family has. But you had learned wealth doesn’t always mean happiness.

For years, you watched as your father treated people like garbage, simply because they didn’t have enough money in his eyes. He’d blackmail people, or worse. You couldn’t stand it.

Which is why you decided to join the Dregs a couple of years ago. In secret, of course. Your father doesn’t know. You took every precaution necessary to prevent him from finding out. You’d rather not find out all the things he’d be capable of.

With the help of the Crows, you’d been stealing small bits of your father’s fortune. You either give it to the Dregs or transfer it to your own personal bank account, one your father didn’t have access to.

To keep your identity a secret, only a few Dregs know your true identity. You use a fake name and whenever you’re at the Crow Club or the Slat, you wear your hood pulled down as low as possible, hiding your face from curious eyes. All precautions because you know all too well what gang members would do with a rich merchant’s daughter.

You like hanging out at the Crow Club. Mostly because the Crows don’t treat you like a merchant’s daughter. They treat you like, well, Y/N. To them, you’re one of their own. And you’re glad they’re your friends.

The Crow Club is also a place where you can relax. At home, you’re always on your toes, keeping a close eye on your father. He had the annoying habit of marching into your room unannounced. When you told him you wanted a lock on your door, he merely laughed it away.

So, yes, you’d prefer the Crow Club full of thieves, gamblers and other criminals to the mansion you live in.

Of course, your father doesn’t know you spend most of your time at the Club. You take longer walks, you make sure you’re not followed, and conceal your face whenever you make your way to the Barrel.

Once inside the Club, you walk to your usual table, and there’d always be someone around to join you.

Right now, you’re sitting at the table with Nina and Jesper. Enjoying a drink and a game of cards. You’re happy to be amongst your friends, laughing at their jokes and beating them at cards.

You look up when you see a familiar redhead approach your table.

‘Hi Wylan!’ you say as you enthusiastically wave at him. Wylan smiles at you as he sits down next to Jesper. Jesper raises his hand at the bartender to order another round of drinks as Wylan shrugs off his coat.

‘I’ve got something for you.’ says Wylan, while looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows in question as you finish your drink. ‘Watch out, Jesper, I might steal your boyfriend.’ you chuckle.

‘Oh, no, you won’t.’ says Jesper, reaching out and pulling Wylan's chair closer to his own, making Wylan blush.

‘He’s going to ask me out on a date, I can see it on his face.’ you say, failing to keep a straight face.

‘What? No!’ says Wylan, looking from you to Jesper. ‘No, I’m not asking you out on a date, I’ve got a letter for you.’

You frown. ‘You’ve got a letter for me?’ you say. ‘Why wasn’t it just delivered to my house?’

‘I don’t know.’ says Wylan. ‘Someone stopped me in the street and told met to give it to you. They said it was urgent.’

‘How did they know you knew where to find me?’ you ask him as you take your new drink the bartender passes you.

Wylan shrugs. ‘I don’t know. She had a pretty heavy Ravkan accent, though. I tried to read the address to confirm it was yours, but I couldn't.’ he says. You notice a slight blush on his cheeks, but ignore it.

‘Is the letter from Ravka as well?’ you say.

‘I think so.’ says Wylan, finally pulling the letter out of his coat pocket. ‘I mean, it’s got a pretty distinctive seal on the back of it.’

Before you can ask him anything else, Jesper snatches the letter out of Wylan’s hand, looking at it.

‘Why would a Ravkan send you a letter?’ he chuckles, flipping the envelope around in his hands. When his eyes fall on the seal, they widen. ‘Correction.’ says Jesper, while looking at you. ‘Why would a Lantsov send you a letter?’

Now your eyes widen as well. ‘What?’ you say. ‘That has to be some kind of joke.’

You lean over the table and take the envelope out of Jesper’s hands. You take another sip of your drink as you look at the seal on the back of it. Indeed, the Lantsov double eagle is on it.

‘Nina.’ you say, turning to her next to you and handing her the envelope so she can look at it as well. ‘Do you have any idea as to why your king would send me a letter?’

Nina looks at the seal as well, running a finger over it. ‘I don’t know.’ she says. ‘But this looks like a legitimate seal, though. It’s on the ones I get as well. I don’t get a lot of them, but I do recognise that seal. This isn’t a fake.’

She hands it back to you and your flip it over in your hand. When you look up, you see all three of your friends looking at you.

‘Why would he send me a letter, though?’ you wonder out loud. ‘And how does he even know I exist? Or where to find me?’

‘Well, after all, you are a merchant’s daughter.’ says Jesper.

‘Shh!’ you quickly say. ‘We’re still in the Crow Club, Jes!’

Jesper quickly apologises, looking around to see if anyone heard him. But the people around you are too caught up in their own drinks and games to have heard anything you were saying.

‘But why would the king of Ravka keep track of Kerch merchants? He only approaches the merchant council for loans. And if he needs to contact them, he sends letters directly to the members of the council.’ you say.

‘Well, you won’t know until you open it.’ says Nina. ‘Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t even know you.’

‘You’ve got a point.’ you say. ‘And I can’t deny I'm curious.’

Slowly, you open the envelope, pulling out a short letter. You’re well aware of all of their eyes on you as you read the message.

“Dear miss Y/F/N Y/L/N,

My name is Nikolai Lantsov (as you probably would have guessed upon seeing the wax seal on the envelope), I’ll spare the ink and not name all of my titles. Though my triumvirate would like me to.

I am writing you to tell you I am hosting a ball, one week from now, at the Grand Palace in Os Alta, Ravka. You are hereby invited to attend said ball, at the end of which I will choose a bride.

I await your response, and I promise there will be good wine.

Yours sincerely,

King Nikolai Lantsov, of Ravka”

You read the letter over and over again, trying to get the words to sink in. Nikolai Lantsov himself wrote you an invitation. To a ball at the Grand Palace. And he’d choose a bride. Someone to be his queen.

You snort and throw the letter on the table.

‘Well, that was interesting to read.’ you say.

Jesper moves to pick up the letter, but Nina is faster. Wylan and Jesper lean in closer, and she softly reads the letter out loud. You see looks of surprise and confusion on their faces as Nina reads the letter.

When she’s done, they all look at you in confusion. You chuckle and take the letter from Nina’s hands, folding it and tucking it in your pocket.

‘Do you think I could sell this to the highest bidder?’ you say. ‘It’s got an authentic Lantsov signature on it.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’ says Jesper.

You look at him. ‘You don’t seriously think I’ll go?’ you say.

‘Duh!’ says Jesper. ‘Why not? Y/N, this is a king. And he’s inviting you to a ball. You could become queen!’

‘I have no intention of becoming queen.’ you say, finishing your drink. ‘Besides, I don’t want to leave Ketterdam.’

‘I bet Os Alta is a whole lot nicer than Ketterdam, though.’ says Wylan.

‘And have a servant do every little thing for me? Eat the finest food all day every month? Go to balls and war meetings? No thank you.’ you say.

‘Why do you talk about it as if it’s a bad thing?’ says Wylan.

‘Because I told you, I have no intention of going to a ball and becoming queen. If you’re asking me, I think writing that letter was a waste of ink and paper.’ you tell them. ‘Besides, if he’s smart, he’s going to marry a Fjerdan or Shu princess to establish an alliance. Even if I wanted to go, there’s no way he’d pick an ordinary Kerch merchant’s daughter to be his queen.’

‘A word of advice?’ says Nina.

You look at her and motion for her to keep on talking.

‘I’ve met Nikolai several times. He’s a good man. Would it really be that bad to even attend? You’re not agreeing to marrying him, you’re just going to a ball. Why not give him a chance?’ she says.

‘Because I think balls are a waste of time. And money. And simply because I don’t want to play dress up and act like a perfect daughter.’ you say, getting up and putting on your coat.

‘At least think about it?’ says Nina.

‘For your sake, I will.’ you say. ‘I’ll even pretend like I haven’t made my decision yet.’

‘It’ll be great for your reputation!’ says Jesper as you move through the crowd toward the door.

‘I’m not going to Os Alta!’ you yell at him over your shoulder. When you’re at the door, you wave goodbye at them and head outside. It’s a particular cold night, and you wrap your coat tighter around you and pull your hood further down.

Somehow the invitation feels like lead as it sits in your pocket. So Nikolai Lantsov himself invited you to the Grand Palace. Though you’re flattered, you’ve already made up your mind.

You’re not going to Os Alta. After all, what could be waiting for you there that you couldn’t find in Ketterdam? You’ve got very good friends here, plenty of kruge, and you live in a mansion.

Surely Os Alta couldn’t offer you more than that?

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#is this what the invitations said??? I have no idea #do I care? no. am I gonna get the book to see if there is a written invitation in there? also no I'm gonna freestyle it #I'm so excited to write this !!!#nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfics #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series

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pettygangfriend · 4 years ago

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Earn me 2/2

Pairing: Rio x reader. Part one here

Requested by: @appropriate-writers-name sorry it took so long to post the second part, but as you can see it’s pretty long, lol. I hope this was somewhat like what you had in mind💞

Warnings: none, may find some curse words.

Word count: 1509 (Im so sorry, lmao.)

“Either way, my world doesn’t revolve around no man. Remember that.”

The last thing you said to Rio before parting. It was also the last time you had spoken to him, or even heard from him. If you were being honest with yourself, it really did sting. But after a week of sitting around, hoping for a text or a phone call, you decided it was time. It was time to try something new, or, someone new.

Which is exactly how you ended up in your position, right now. Sitting at a tiny table at a bar/restaurant thingy you’ve never been to, with a man you’ve never seen before.

“So what do you do for a living, anyway?” You ask the guy in front of you, trying to make some small talk.

He wasn’t really the smoothest talker- scratch that, he wasn’t much of a talker at all. But as you were only 15 minutes in, you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I make and sell t-shirts.” He didn’t even bother to look at you, being too busy slurping away at his spaghetti.

“Oh thats nice!” You answer, trying to sound somewhat interested. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not, but it pays the bills. Actually, it doesn’t really, but at least it kills some time”.

You just stare at him with the most confused look. What the fuck does that even mean?

You’re so busy being weirded out, and making a mental note of asking god what you did to deserve this, that you almost didn’t notice a familiar face entering the place, taking a seat at the bar. Rio. His eyes fall on the guy in front of you, looking him up and down, smirking.

A million different emotions and thoughts you had managed to push away, came flooding back, immediately. You do your best to ignore his presence, but his burning eyes on you making it hard to. So after a good 3 minutes of pretending to listen to the pasta eating weirdo in front of you, you decide to find out what the hell Rio’s doing here.

“Please excuse me for a second while I go use the bathroom” is all you say, before getting up from your seat, your eyes catching Rio’s curious ones.

Once you enter the bathroom, it doesn’t take long before he enters shortly after. He locks the door behind him, and turns around to face you. You just stand there, crossing your arms. You sure as hell wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying the first word. I guess that’s one thing you guys had in common. Pettiness.

“So first you’re giving me your little speech about needing more, and what not, and now you’re getting it on with some stranger?” He asks you, taking a step closer towards you. “Doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Letting out a scoff, you bring yourself even closer to him. “When someone ghosts you for a week long, you it does make sense.”

“I had thing’s to do. I’m a busy guy, you know”

“Not busy enough, if you’re out here lurking around on my date”

Apparently you had said something funny, as Rio throws his head back laughing.

“Date? Come on, ma. You know you deserve better than-“ he points around him, the bathroom looking like a scene from a bad movie. “Better than this.”

“What I deserve is someone who’s willing to make an effort, even if it’s this” you copy his movements, pointing at your surroundings.

Alright, that was probably a lie, you did deserve more than this shithole. But you weren’t lying about someone making the effort to go out.

“And that someone is that guy? The one with the spaghetti stain on his shirt?” He says, sticking his hands inside his pockets.

“Well, I don’t see it being you, either. So why don’t you just leave this place, sure you got some more important things to do”

He holds your angry stare for a moment, nodding his head slowly.

“Grab your stuff, we’re leaving this dump” is all he says before wanting to turn around, but you’re quick to pull him back by his arm.

“What do you mean ‘we’re leaving’?!” You whisper yell at him, absolutely dumbfounded.

“What part don’t you get? You wanted someone to take you out, so I’m going to take you out.” He tells you, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

A part of you wants to grab your coat and bolt out of there with Rio, but the other part needed a little more convincing. You couldn’t just leave the other guy behind, right?

“Are you crazy? I can’t just leave him!”

"You really thought that was going somewhere?"

"Yes! He was cute.. in a way" making Rio raise an eyebrow. "Okay maybe not cute, but he was nice!"

“Well either you’re gonna tell him, or I will. Or both of us, that’s cool with me too” he says, already smirking at the look on your face. You hate giving in right now, but at this point you would do anything to get out of this ‘date’.

“Fine. Let’s go”.

After a -not very sincere- apology, you feel like you have moved from one awkward date in a dump, to another awkward one in a fancier place. Honestly, you couldn’t even call this a date. It was more like you shooting Rio angry glares, while he gave short answers to your hundreds of questions.

“So why did you take a whole week to decide on wanting to take me out?”

“Something came up, so I had to go take care of some business out of town.”

“What business?” “Nothing that concerns you”

“Why did you decide you wanted to go out with me, all of a sudden?” “I had time to think.”

“Think about what?” “You and me. Us.”

You let out a deep sigh, his short answers starting to make you wish you hadn’t come with him at all.

“You know what, maybe this was a bad idea. I should just go-” you say, starting to get up from the chair, but Rio takes a hold or your wrist, before moving his hand down to hold yours.

“Don’t.” You look at his face, only to find his usual cold stare, now replaced by a more insecure one. You sit back down, waiting for him to continue, as he’s still holding your hand.

“Look, I don’t really know how to do all this” he starts, referring to the whole ordeal of two people sitting together romantically. Something that was the most normal thing in your mind, yet not in his.

“I’m know how to boss people around, I know how to make money, stay on my game. It’s what I’m used to, it’s what im good at. I’m not used to a ‘normal relationship’, and all the things that come with it. It’s not something that fits into my kind of life”

“If it doesn’t fit into your kind of life, then what am I doing here?” You ask him, already preparing yourself for the disappointment.

Rio looks down at your intertwined hands for a second, giving it a soft squeeze, before pulling your hand more towards him.

“Because when you’re with me, I feel like I can be myself, you know? Like I can finally breath, after the crazy ass day I had. But when you’re not, I feel like there’s something missing, like I need-” Rio thinks for a second, trying to find the right word. And he did. “More.”

All you can do is stare at him, taking in all the words pouring out of his mouth. A warm feeling forms in your stomach, knowing that all this time, he felt the same way. He just didn’t know how to express himself.

“And after I realized that, I tried to figure out how to tell you. You were right about me taking too long, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want-“

“I do.” You’re quick to cut him off. “I’m just happy you came to me. And we don’t have to jump in the deep end, let’s just take it slow. That way, we can both get used to new things” you tell him, sending him a smile, which he happily returns.

“I’d like that, mama.”

The both of you let out a sigh of relieve, finally being able to make things right. This wasn’t going to be easy, but that didn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re on the same page, entering a whole new chapter.

After a nice dinner, where you guys had lots of time to talk about regual things for once, he had decided to take you home.

“So,” he says, making you look over at him. “Does this mean I have to meet your parents?”

You look at him, wondering if this man is actually being serious right now. So much for taking it slow.

“Oh baby, you ain’t ready for all that”

If you’d like to be added to my Rio taglist, please let me know! ✨

@appropriate-writers-name

@gemini0410

@sesamepancakes @vicmackeybullshxt

@chrmdnbeautiful

@thickemadame

@isisafrofairy

@stitchesbystults

#good girls rio #manny montana #nbc good girls #rio x reader #rio good girls

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bakubros-boo-thang · 3 years ago

Text

Thirty seconds: Cameras & Caramel

Bakugou x ‘model’ reader

Warnings: cursing, sfw, mentioning of body type

Quirk: Stopping time ( limited time and limited amount of people)

Summary: When your roommate kinda pushes fate at your doorstep you end up in bed with Bakugou. That wouldn’t be so bad, except for the pervy director, the spotlights and the fact that you are definitely not used to model. Atleast you can make sure you get your 30 seconds of peace....

Art by : Chocalicia

Bakugou hated these types of things. He knew that being a hero on the rise meant that he had to grow his fanbase. He HAD to be known. He had to show up at random places, on billboards, in magazines and on tv. Not just for the live broadcastings if his fights, but also in random commercials.

He hated those commercials most. With magazines it was just a picture, a second of pretending. With commercials you had to pretend for longer. Professional models were at least professional about it, but those aspiring ones were trying so hard to get more out of the shoot than just a paycheck. They probably went into the shoot just for him. It would be a lie if he never ended up next to a stranger because of that. He had a busy schedule and sometimes he was touch starved. Those moments were the only moments his “work” and private life were combined. The rare private life he had.

You on the other hand had no idea what you were up to. You never wanted to be a model, so you weren’t. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When searching for a “plus-sized” model in the middle of Tokyo you -a foreigner- stood out and when asked for a one time job, you had politely declined until your roommate had said: “You are here for that once in a lifetime moment, get out of your comfort zone, fuck the insecurities and experience that moment”. So here you were. Wearing a sleeveless top and black sleeping shorts. Laying in a fake bed, on a fake set, bright spotlight hurting you eyes and with a blanket only covering your ass and barely covering your boobs (which looked nude bc of the illusion). Since your friend pushed you to do this, she was the one who did all the talking. You just knew that you were supposed to lay like this, act shocked by your male counterpart and needed to smell his perfume. Something about “Comforting and sexy.” It was a stupid catchphrase. You had been living in Japan for a couple months, studying quirks.... you had only chosen that major, because of your own struggle with your quirk and had no real goal with the study, but the chance to finish up the course in Japan was something you couldn’t pass up. Since Japan was the country with the most development of quirks, it was the perfect choice. You worked a part-time job as a barista on the side and you couldn’t complain. But when you saw him you definitely wanted to complain. The first thing you noticed was the spiky blond hair, then his red piercing eyes and since you didn’t want him to catch you staring at his abs, you decided to use your quirks. The room was filled with eight people including the two of you so it wasn’t that difficult to do. And so you just paused everyone. You knew that you could only keep it up for thirty seconds at most, but in those seconds you could take a good look at him. At the bored expression he had, the way he was only wearing low hanging jeans and those rock-hard abs. You had barely fifteen seconds left to just readjust yourself one last time, trying to ignore your insecurities and give yourself the ultimate poker face, you laid in the position. Time went back on an nobody seemed to have noticed the missing seconds. Bakugou definitely looked slightly confused, which didn’t stop him from walking towards you and yelling to no one in particular: “Let’s get this shit over with, I have things to do.” He didn’t even acknowledge you. “Okay let’s get this thing right in the first take. Bakugou you just came home from a long patrol, you walk over to your s/o who is all curled up in bed and you give her a kiss on her cheek, she wakes up smelling your neck and realizes that you still smell like our cologne. She pulls you towards her and then it’s CUT, since we need to keep this safe for work right? We will film the solo clips of you after this scene. Ready? ACTION.”

Bakugou walked towards you. His face looked kind, maybe even loving in some cocky way though. Confidence was more the right word. You quickly close your eyes knowing you have to be ‘asleep’. 20 seconds later your eyes still haven't opened up, Bakugou was supposed to kiss you awake right? “DUMBASS WHY AREN’T YOU DOING YOUR DAMN JOB.” You couldn’t even respond, he scared you with the way he talked, of course you had heard of him. The hero with the terrible temper, but still experiencing it first-hand kinda sucked. “I... I... I didn’t....” The director cut you off. “CUT, let’s try it again.” Bakugou had already gone back to reshoot the scene. “ACTION.” He walked towards you again. This time you knew the camera would only focus on your face when he ‘kissed’ your cheeks, which he wasn’t planning on actually doing. You didn’t know whether it was him being respectful or him hating you, but it really annoyed you so you decided to give him a little payback. As he faked kissing your cheek you decided to use your quirk and pause only him. You didn’t touch his lips. You did however smell him. He didn’t smell like that disgusting cologne. He smelled like sweat and something burning. A light caramel smell. It was intoxicating. You had forgotten that you had only paused him, so the rest of the crew saw Bakugou standing over you with pouted lips not moving at all. When you realized that you were still pausing him, you quickly released the quirk and here he was all flustered, confused and definitely annoyed at himself for losing his cool. You felt a little guilty, but on the other side this was his payback. No one said anything about the rising hero’s pouted lips though, not wanting to trigger the hero’s anger. “Let’s just try it once more. Action.” Before Bakugou walked back to his starting point he whispered “ err... sorry for acting so creepy. I... I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Now you DID feel horrible. You had to make sure this take worked out.

He walked over to you and actually kissed your cheek. You let go of all your insecurities, ‘Opened’ your eyes and you smiled at him with a smile full of love (mostly due to the fact that you were still intoxicated by his smell and of course his good looks, and maybe that apology did kinda make him seem... likeable), you once again smelled his neck which was far from punishment and the rest was just natural to you. Pushing your hands over to his neck and pulling him in felt amazing. Seeing him lay next to you felt even better and even he couldn’t help but to give you a tiny smile. Probably because you were radiating so much happiness. (Which was definitely not because you were such a good actor). “CUT. This was perfect, there is just one little thing I want to add, but give me two minutes before I explain. You can stay in your positions.” Bakugou looked at you. Just now noticing the way you looked naked. “Are you comfortable like that?” He asked. “Err... not really, but probably because this is my first time doing this.” He clicked his tongue “Tsk you’re not a model?” You shrugged “Nope just a regular barista who’s roommate forced her to end up in this weird commercial for err... cologne right?” Bakugou chuckled, “Yeah goddamn awful cologne.” You couldn’t help but agree. “They made me smell a tester, you definitely didn’t smell like that, fortunately.” He raised his eyebrow “How did I smell then, extra?” But his “extra” didn’t sound as threatening as it usually sounded in the fight videos on his Youtube page. It sounded more like a dare, but before you got the chance to explain the director already started explaining his new idea. “ I know we are not supposed to do anything not safe for work, but sex still sells, so we will just plant a seed.” He couldn’t help but give you a pervy look that made you feel sick to your stomach. “Only thing you two should do is end up under the covers, that's it. Action!” He continued.

“WHAT THE HELL, DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GO UNDER THE BLANKET WITH HER?!” Bakugou screamed. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. You barely knew him, but still hearing him get so angry for having to look at you and sharing that small space with him, definitely did hurt.

“Bakugou, why are you being difficult?” The director sighed. “ Look how you made her look, this girl has never been on a set and you already made her lay nude under a blanket, expecting me to go under that blanket. I’m not a FUCKING PERVERT GODDAMIT!” He was looking so angry, but you had to tell him. You slightly tapped his shoulder. “WHAT?!” He screamed. “Err... Bakugou...” You lifted up the blanket. “I’m not naked.” You couldn’t help but notice the quick scan he gave your body. You couldn’t blame him, especially since you had done the same. “Oh well, still you shouldn’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” You gave him a tiny smile. “Don’t worry I trust you, it’s only for a second right.” He couldn’t help it. You intrigued him. The way you made him forget what he was doing (literally), the way you were sooo out of place, but still seemed to enjoy your time here and the way you just talked to him. “Alright let’s go then ACTION.” And the crew just knew Bakugou’s “action” was just as valid as the director’s.

You continued with the loving looks. Bakugou’s smile was a lot bigger than before, “He can really act.” You thought to yourself. And while you were still holding his neck in your arms, he grabbed the blanket and put it over the two of you in a swift move. Now you were surrounded in the dark. The only thing you could see were his red eyes. “Thanks for making me feel at ease today Bakugou. It was nice of you being cautious whether you should kiss me. Err... I mean kiss my cheek.” You stammered quickly, knowing that this conversation could only take a few seconds. “ No problem Dumbass. I’m still cautious though..” his face was closer now. “About what?” You let out. Feeling butterflies in your stomach, feeling your breathing stagger and your hands getting sweaty. “About whether I should kiss you right now. You’re probably too nervous with everyone around right?” How had he known that you wanted to kiss him? You felt humiliated, but still you had a ace up your sleeve. “Don’t worry about that, I already paused everyone.” You said with a smirk. “WAIT A MINUTE, you DAMN extra were the one to pau...” but he couldn’t finish his sentence. You had already put your lips on his and he had already forgotten all about his anger. That day you found out that you could use your quirk to a much longer extent than 30 seconds.

Authors note: Just a quick story I came up with. Hope you enjoyed it and would appreciate a reblog💚

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

Text

Of Starlight

A/N: The last two chapters of this story (19 and 20) are currently being written y’all. I wrote this book faster than I thought I would...

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death/dying, sexual assault

Word Count: 2176

————————————

Chapter 4: Moved On, Too

“Okay, but just so we’re clear on the finer details,” Klaus started as he and Five exited the latter’s room, gaining the attention of (Y/N), who was in her own bedroom. “I just gotta go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Five answered as (Y/N) joined them in the hallway.

“What’s our cover story?” Klaus questioned, looking between the two teenagers. Five furrowed his brows and shook his head a little in confusion.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, was I really young when I had you? Like, sixteen? Like, young and…,” Klaus dramatically placed his hands over his chest. “terribly misguided?”

“Sure.”

“Your mother, that slut. Whoever she was. We met at…” He trailed off in thought. (Y/N) thought to humor them a little.

“The disco?”

“The disco! That’s, good, (Y/N)! Okay? Remember that,” He excitedly agreed, Five muttering a ‘you’re unbelievable’ to the girl as Klaus continued on with his story. “Oh, my god, the sex was amaaaazing.”

“What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain.” Five began walking away. (Y/N) followed him as Klaus stayed back in thought.

“Wait, what about (Y/N)?” He asked, the two turning back to him. “Who is she gonna be?”

“She’s my friend.” Five plainly answered, Klaus gasping.

“Or girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Oh, you two don’t have to kiss! We gotta sell it and you two have way too much chemistry to be just friends.” He pointed between the two, (Y/N) and Five rolling their eyes in irritation. She’d be lying if she said she disagreed, and it wouldn’t have bothered her to pretend to be Five’s girlfriend, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Especially not now.

Huffing, Five looked to his brother again. “If I say yes, will you shut up and come on?”

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

At Meritech Prosthetics, the three Hargreeves were sat in front of the executive’s desk. Well, (Y/N) and Klaus were sitting, Five was standing in between them, his jaw severely clenched as he listened to the man speak, “Like I said to your son and his girlfriend earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. Without the client’s consent, I simply can’t help you.”

“Well, we can’t get consent if you don’t give us a name.” Five grit his teeth as he leaned forward.

“Well, that’s not my problem. Sorry. Now, there’s really nothing more I can do, so-”

“And what about my consent?” Klaus suddenly spoke up, the three turning to him with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?” The executive questioned.

“Who gave you permission… to lay your hands… on my son?” He took a shaky breath and pointed at Five. Both the executive and the boy let out a ‘what?’. “You heard me.”

“I didn’t touch your son.”

“Oh, really?” Klaus stood up from his chair, and (Y/N) knew what he was going to do next was not going to be good. “Well, then how did he get that swollen lip, then?”

“He doesn’t have a swollen-” The man was cut off when Klaus struck Five in the mouth. The boy grunted on impact and (Y/N) quickly stood, in total shock. Did Klaus really just hit his brother across the face? The Seance turned to the man and leaned forward against the desk.

“I want it. Name, please. Now.”

“You’re crazy.” The executive pointed up at him, receiving a chuckle in response. (Y/N) went to Five’s side and silently checked his lip. It wasn’t bleeding too bad, but he definitely had a mark from it. He gently placed a hand on her wrist to let her know that he was fine.

“You got no idea,” Klaus then picked up a snowglobe that was sitting on the desk and smiled at it. “‘Peace on Earth’. That’s so sweet.” He remarked before smashing his head through it. Everyone jumped as glass shattered and fell from his bleeding head, a piece getting stuck in a strand of his hair. “God, that hurt!” He groaned.

The man quickly picked up the phone. “I’m calling secur- What are you doing?!” He exclaimed as Klaus snatched the phone from him and held it up to his ear, a gasp leaving his lips.

“There’s been an assault… in Mr Big’s office, and we need security, now. Schnell!” As he hung up the phone, the man could only stare up at him in fear. Klaus sighed and seemingly shook off the pain in his head. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen, Grant.”

“It’s… Lance-”

“In about sixty seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they’re gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they’re gonna wonder ‘what the hell happened?’,” (Y/N) glanced over at Five who, despite his bleeding lip, was smirking at Lance. “And we’re gonna tell them that you… beat the shit out of us,” And just when they thought he was done, he quickly grabbed (Y/N) by her wrist and yanked her to his side. “And that you inappropriately touched my son’s girlfriend.”

“What?!” Lance and (Y/N) exclaimed. Klaus gently pushed her behind him and patted her head.

“It’s alright, sweetie, you can say it…” He gently spoke. It was silent for a minute and Lance was frantically glancing between her and Klaus. Eventually, she cleared her throat.

“I-I told him to stop.”

“Oh… You’re gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I’ve been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh, my god, you’re gonna get passed around like a…,” Klaus circled his hips. “You’re just- You’re gonna do great. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jesus, you are a real sick bastard.” Lance shakily spoke as he looked around at the three. Klaus simply nodded at him.

“Thank you.” He whispered, spitting a glass shard out of his mouth.

It was safe to say that Lance was convinced to give them the information they needed. He led them to a desk and started going through a drawer, occasionally glancing up at Klaus, who was sitting on the desk and sweetly smiling at him. (Y/N) was sitting on the desk on the other side as Five simply sat in a chair in front of him. Finding the folder he needed, Lance started looking through it. “Oh, that’s strange.”

“What?” Five frowned.

“Uh, the eye. It hasn’t been purchased by a client yet.” The executive explained as Klaus hopped off the desk and got in his personal space.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number…,” He trailed off and was clearly uncomfortable by Klaus stalking behind him. Lance frowned as he scanned the information. “This can’t be right. It hasn’t even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?”

Five sighed and locked eyes with (Y/N), whose were staring back in concern.

As the three walked out of the lab, Five and Klaus started to get into an argument about why the eye was important, but (Y/N) couldn’t have been bothered to listen at the moment. She was wondering how Michael and Jada were doing. Have they eaten yet? Of course, they have. Mom’s taking good care of them. Well, what about Michael? Is he getting homework done? I really hope he isn’t slacking off...

She stopped when she noticed Klaus and Five weren’t walking with her anymore. She turned to see them on the stairs in front of the lab.

“Hey, you know, I’ve just realized why you’re so uptight,” Klaus gestured towards his crotch. “You must be horny as hell!” He laughed. (Y/N) contemplated whether or not she really wanted to listen to this, but joined them anyway. “All those years by yourself. It’s gotta screw with your head, being alone.”

“Well…,” Five started quietly. “I wasn’t alone.” This caught both their attention. Klaus raised a brow.

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“Her name was Delores,” He told after a second of silence. “We were together for over thirty years.”

“Whatever happened to the clone I sent after you?” (Y/N) questioned. “Did it get left behind before you jumped? I told it to look after you.”

“Must’ve left it in 2002… It was just me and Delores throughout the apocalypse.”

Delores. That name again… sounded so familiar. (Y/N) was honestly very happy for Five. Happy that he wasn’t alone, happy that he’d moved on from whatever they had as kids. She’d done it, after all. So, she couldn’t have asked him to not do the same. Though, she couldn’t help the pit that formed in her stomach at the thought of it. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Klaus yelling about his money. Only then did she notice that Five had left in a cab. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and took her wallet out of her jacket pocket, handing a twenty to her brother.

“Buy yourself something pretty.”

“You are a saint, sister dear.”

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

Returning to the Academy, (Y/N) found Allison in one of the upstairs rooms, sitting on the windowsill and smoking a cigarette. She tilted her head with a smile before silently walking up to her. “Hey, Ally.”

“Oh, shit,” Allison jumped and turned to her sister. “Jesus, (Y/N), you can’t do that.”

“May I?” She held her hand out for the cig, Allison raising a brow before handing it over. She watched her sister take a long drag as she sat beside her on the windowsill. (Y/N) raised a brow at her. “What?” She exhaled the smoke.

“Nothing… It’s just that… I thought you were trying to quit.”

“Yeah, Anthony would’ve wanted me to… but I really need it right now,” She heavily sighed before staring up at the night sky. “I miss my babies…”

“That makes two of us,” Allison shook her head and took back the cigarette once it was handed back to her. “God, what I would give to know how she’s doing…”

“Why don’t you call?”

“Because Patrick is being a grade A asshole… He wouldn’t let me speak to her.”

“What an ass,” (Y/N) shook her head. “If Anthony and I had ever split up, I would’ve never kept the kids from him… What’d you ever seen in him?”

“I don’t know…,” Allison leaned her head back, eyes sliding to her sister. “Speaking of rocky relationships… What’s going on with you and Five?” Her question made (Y/N) quickly sit up. “Oh, come on, you two were smitten when we were kids! Everyone knew it.”

(Y/N) shook her head and plucked the white stick out of Allison’s hand. “We’re not starting with this, Ally. Nothing is going on. We’ve both moved on from that shit.”

“That shit? That ‘shit’ was love and it’s still there. Neither of you truly moved on.”

“Well, Five definitely did. Told me about a woman he was with for years. Delores…”

“Oh, Delores… You think she’s cute?” Allison teased, receiving a shove. She laughed and shoved (Y/N) back. “I’m being serious!”

“You know she is, Five wouldn’t go with some hag, even if she was the last woman on Earth… Probably a babe, even at fifty-eight…”

“You sound… so jealous right now.” There was a long silence between the two, Allison waiting patiently for her sister to respond, but she laughed at what she said next,

“Piss off, Allison.”

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

The wind howled as Five spun his body around, still taking in what was left around him. Right by his side was (Y/N)’s clone, seemingly observing the current state he was in. Its eyes moved all around his face, then to his current line of vision. A single hand stuck out of the debris not too far away from him, holding what looked to be a bloody eyeball. Quickly moving forward, Five bent down and pried it out of the dead hand and wiped off the blood before looking to who the hand belonged to. His stomach dropped when he got his answer.

Luther -- or who he assumed was Luther, older and dead, crushed under rubble. Moving around the area, he found Allison, Diego and Klaus in the same state. All older, all buried under remains, and all dead. He had been staring at Klaus’s lifeless body when he heard rustling from a little ways away. Turning in the direction, he saw the clone moving some bricks around. Five made his way over to it, and what he saw made him collapse to his knees immediately.

There was (Y/N). His (Y/N). Bleeding from her mouth due to the rubble that was once crushing her, now moved away by her own clone. She was the same age as their siblings, the light from her (e/c) eyes slowly draining as her fingers slightly twitched. Right as Five went to hold her hand, her body gave one last twitch before going completely still, her eyes devoid of any light they’ve ever had.

————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom

#the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua five #five x reader #number five #number five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #of starlight #umbrella academy #tua

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"....So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 3*

So I gave you a LITTLE lovin' at the end, give me a break. I'm loving all the angsty comments I'm getting. Really gives me a rush relishing in your pain. MWAHAAHAHAHAHA. I'm kidding I love you all please don't leave me.

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu @believinghurts

-------

The next morning

As soon as you dropped Kylie at daycare and Maggie at school, you headed to work. You worked as an executive at an advertising company, so it gave you a lot of freedom to work from home. Really helped the whole "single mom" thing.

But today you had to go into the office for a meeting, and you were dreading it. The one day you could really use to yourself, you had to go and be around people, pretending to be okay. This was going to be hell.

During your meeting, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. You immediately went for it, thinking maybe by some miracle Rafael had figured out a solution super fast. But to your horror, it was a text from Billy.

LUNCH?

Oh god. He knew didn't he? He knew everything. There was no way in hell he was getting you alone in your house right now. You quickly texted him back discreetly.

I'M AT THE OFFICE TODAY.

*BUZZ*

THAT'S HALFWAY TO THE CITY. COME ON, I PROMISE I'LL HAVE YOU BACK IN TIME TO PICK UP THE GIRLS.

Was he serious? He wanted you to meet him in the City? Closer to Rafael? What kind of game was he playing? Well, at least you'd be in a public place. He couldn't murder you in front of an audience. And he promised you could pick up the girls, surely he was just going to let you leave after lunch. Right? While you were thinking it over, your phone went off again.

MY TREAT

His treat? Well, that would be a first. Sure he took care of them when they were married, but since their divorce he hadn't offered up a penny more than his legally obligated alimony and child support.

"Miss Y/N, do you have somewhere better to be?" Your boss interrupted your thoughts, you noticed that the whole boardroom was staring at you.

"No sir, sorry sir," You shook your head as you typed a quick OK back to Billy before shoving your phone back into your pocket.

-------

After your meeting you headed to the restaurant address Billy texted you. You sat in your Uber running your fingers nervously through your hair and checking your makeup. Though you really weren’t sure why-- Billy wasn’t the cute harmless man you fell in love with anymore, you had to remember that. No matter how much his smile made your knees weak.

You walked into the restaurant to see Billy already at a table. He smiled and waved at you, you walked towards him and joined him.

“Hey, sweetie,” He went for a hug, but you went for the handshake.

“Hey, Billy,” You nodded as you sat down across from him. “So, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” He kept that hundred watt smile focused on you, you felt yourself blush.

“Okay?” You tried to act nonchalant as you picked up a menu and browsed it.

“Yeah, you know after I found out you were with that animal, Barba,” He picked up his own menu and began to peruse it. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you in that moment because as soon as he called Barba the animal as opposed to himself, your fists clenched.

“Oh? Yeah it was no big deal…” You tried to keep your voice calm.

“So what did he say about me?”

“N-Nothing, I kicked him out as soon as I hung up on you, Billy,” You glanced up at him. You weren’t lying, you did kick him out right after you hung up. And it was the biggest mistake in the world.

“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised, but elated. “You just believed me over him, just like that?”

“Well, of course Billy,” You nodded as you put the menu down. “You’re the father of my children, I’ve known you for almost a decade. I...loved you,” You gulped as you sipped the courtesy water. You didn’t know if it was a great idea to toss that in, but you figured you needed to throw him as far off the scent as you could.

“...Loved?” Billy asked curiously.

Shit. Abort Abort.

“I mean, I’ll always care about you Billy,” You put a hand over his, giving him the sweetest smile you could manage.

“And Barba?” He gripped your hand a little tighter. “Do you love him?”

Shit. Alright, stay calm.

“I thought I might,” You nodded sadly. “Before you told me what a...monster, he is,” You hated even saying the words, but he needed to buy what you were selling.

“Oh, honey,” Billy gave you a sympathetic smile. “You know that’s what I’ve always loved about you. Always so trusting, and loyal...those are really great qualities in a woman,”

“...Thank you?” You sounded offended.

“Gosh,” He chuckled. “You know I am starting to forget why we even broke up,”

Oh God.

“B-Because you were always working, and you thought it would be unfair to keep going like we were going on the kids, and me,” You reminded him.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He half laughed. “Gosh, you know I think I...I really messed that up,”

“...What?” You nearly choked on your drink.

“I think I made a huge mistake, choosing my...work, over you and the girls,” He gave you a genuinely apologetic smile.

“Oh, Billy you--” You tried to dissuade him, but he wasn't having it.

“No, you know what Y/N having the girls this past summer, it reminded me how much they mean to me. How much you, mean to me,” He took your other hand in his so he was holding them both now.

“But you know what? No more. Screw my job, I’m choosing my family this time,” He gave you the most loving smile and look you’d ever seen on him. You were starting to be even more confused than ever.

“...R-Really?” You blinked in disbelief. “You’d just...give up, your...job, for us?”

“Yes, I would babe,” He nodded, rubbing the back of your palms with his thumbs.

Suddenly, you remembered what kind of “job” he actually had. How could you get out of this? What would make sense? Wait, a thought occurred to you.

“...No,” You removed your hands from his.

“....No?” He repeated, his tone shifting. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, I’m not going to let you back into our lives, back into the girl’s lives. Get their hopes up that we can be a happy family again, and then you just take off again when you start itching to get back to work!”

“....Itching?” His nostrils flared. “Is there a reason you used that...specific phrase, Y/N?”

“No, it’s a term, Billy. Look it up,” You were getting more brazen, knowing you had a crowd of eyes around you. He wouldn’t try anything.

“You sure that’s not a certain lawyer talking, sweetheart?” He didn’t let up.

“....How do you know him, anyway Billy?” You suddenly changed the subject.

“Excuse me?” Now it was his turn to blink in disbelief.

“You knew him, when you called me,” You reminded him.

“Well yeah babe, I know he’s a--”

“A monster,” You finished.

“Yeah, I told you--”

“But, how would you know that?” You asked again.

“What?”

“He’s a prosecutor, Billy. You’re a...whatever it is you are,” You crossed your arms. “So how, do you know him?”

“Because….” You saw the wheels turning in Billy’s head. “Because he and the NYPD set me up!”

“They set you up?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” He sniffed and rubbed his nose as the waitress came and took your orders. He eyed her nervously as she wrote down your requests and left the table once more.

“You gonna elaborate?”

“Look right before I met you, I was living in the city,” He sighed, starting his story. “And I was on a harmless jog in Central Park, and these tourist girls got spooked and this bitch detective brought me in, started getting her whole squad zoned in on me for some reason, including your man Barba,”

“Just for no reason?” You gave him a look.

“Yes!” He pounded the table, causing some stares. He took a deep breath, and repeated himself. “Yes, babe,”

“Uh huh,” You nodded as the waitress brought your drinks. It was only lunch but you had ordered a martini, you needed it to get through this.

“Look I thought you said you believed me,” Billy’s eyes narrowed. “...Or was that a bunch of bullshit?”

“N-No,” You suddenly sat straight up, remembering you needed to keep up your act.

“I’m just trying to understand the whole situation, baby boy,” You threw your old nickname at him to diffuse the situation.

“Right…” He licked his lips with a smile as the waitress came and sat the food down in front of each of you.

“Anyway, babe they set up this whole thing. They went on a vendetta against me, I swear to God. They-- they started pulling all these records of me from places I lived, trying to pin me to something, anything. And then their Captain…” He stopped and chuckled, but not his normal chuckle. This was more...sinister, darker.

“She just had this...thing, for me,” He smiled as he remembered her, the “Good times” they had. “She begged me to spend this bender weekend with me and when things didn’t go her way, she tried to say I ‘kidnapped’ her, raped her, did all this nasty stuff to her,”

“....Why would she make that up?” You took a bite of your food. He was just spilling all of this information without you even prying, this seemed too easy.

“Because she’s a BITCH, that’s why!” He suddenly yelled again and pounded the table, more people turned to stare this time before he quickly got himself together once more.

“Billy, I’ve never seen you like this,” Your voice shook as you spoke.

“I’m--I’m sorry, Y/N,” He blinked back tears. “They just...they put me through hell,” He began to show you scars on his face and pointed to his ear. “She...when we went on our little bender, she got so hopped on pills and booze that she beat me within an inch of my life,”

Your hand went over your mouth as you saw his injuries for the first time. You put your other hand and traced the scar, tears in your eyes. He couldn’t have just faked those scars, there was no way for him to know you’d start questioning him like you had.

Maybe...maybe he was telling the truth. You had just taken Rafael at his word, and those articles at theirs. Stories could always be spun, and if it made the NYPD look good, that would make the best story, right?

“Billy…” You wiped his cheek with your thumb, tears were spilling down them. “I am so, so sorry…”

“It’s fine,” He sniffed, wiping snot from his nose as he pulled himself together. “I just...I just want to move on,”

“Yeah…” You nodded, patting his cheek gently with a small smile.

“So, will you let me come home?” He asked you with a sad smile.

“I…” You looked down at the table, mulling everything over. You really, really didn’t want to believe Rafael had been the liar here, just covering up for his best friend.

But...Billy seemed genuine, you had known him so much longer than any of them, maybe you knew him better than they did. You knew he was the wrong guy they should have tried to send away, maybe he was just the victim of their dirty captain. But the whole…”job” aspect, you weren’t sure of. You still didn’t know what he did, and why he had been gone all the time. Rafael’s explanation seemed logical.

“...I’ll think about it,” You looked at him with a small smile.

“You’ll think about it?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Billy, you really hurt me,” You felt tears come to your throat. “You have to know that,”

“I know, babe…” He gave you a sad smile back, taking your hands again. “I get it, I have to earn your trust again,”

“Yes,” You nodded, glad he wasn’t going to press it. He nodded and looked at the table for a moment, then looked up at you with that smile of his.

“...You know, if you want the afternoon off honey, I can pick up the girls,” He offered.

“E-Exucse me?”

“You want to go see Barba, don’t you?” He was now smirking. “You want to verify what I’m saying, right?”

“I...um…”

“Go for it darling, that’s how confident I am you’ll make the right decision,” He encouraged you.

“...Right,” You nodded, downing the rest of your martini. “And if I don’t, you’ll have the girls as leverage,”

“Aww now Y/N…” He kept his smirk, it seemed more evil now when you looked at it. “I won’t need leverage, will I?”

“....No,” You gulped. You didn’t entirely trust him now, but you weren’t about to turn down a chance to see Rafael. Besides, if what he said was true, Billy would never harm the girls.

“Good then, so we’ll see you at home?”

“Sounds good,” You nodded as Billy laid down his card on the check. You got up and headed to the door, dialing Rafael’s number. You remembered that he had said not to contact him first, so you thought you’d do him one better.

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

Rafael was in his office putting together his opening argument when you knocked on his office door.

“Come in,” He said nonchalantly, thinking it would be his assistant with a memo.

He glanced up from his desk as the door opened and dropped his pen when he saw you. He blinked a few times, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating as he stood up from his chair and approached you slowly.

“....Y/N? What are you--?”

“Shut up,” You cut him off with your words before catching his lips in yours in a hungry, aggressive kiss.

You didn’t care what Billy had said, or what events led up to right now. You just knew at that moment you needed Rafael. And you took him, no regrets. You two spent several seconds just kissing and drinking each other up, hands roaming all over each other’s bodies.

You’d think you two had been separated for months, not barely 24 hours. But you both had been sure it would be ages, maybe ever before you saw each other again, and like you had said before you’d never been out of each other’s lives for more than a day since the day you met. Fine, maybe you were a little overdramatic.

“What are you doing here, tonta?!” He suddenly broke apart from you and chastised you. “I told you, it’s too--”

“Billy sent me,” You simply said, breathless from the kissing.

“...’Billy’, sent you?” His eyes narrowed. “And why exactly did Billy send you?”

“...We need to talk,” You bit your lip nervously. “But...but I just...I just want us to be us, for a little bit longer,”

“...A little bit longer?” Rafael’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

“Just...please, Rafa?” You begged him, your doe eyes wet with tears. You knew what you were about to have to do, and you just wanted to be happy for a few more minutes.

“...Bueno,” Rafael sighed, before he grabbed you by your waist and carried you over to his couch, before resuming making out with you like two teenagers.

He didn’t like the sound of where this was going, but he knew he wanted to put it off as long as possible. And he had missed you like crazy, even if it had just been 12 hours. He loved you so much, and so fast, it scared him.

You didn't know what you were going to say to Rafael once his tongue was out of your mouth, but right now you didn't care. You just wanted this to go on forever---

And then there was a knock at the door.

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #so i married a monster #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #rafael barba fanfcition #raul esparza #william lewis #william lewis fanfiction #william lewis x you #william lewis x reader

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seiyasabi · 3 years ago

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A Shifter’s Dream

(This is a Yandere Bunny-Shifter N’Doul x Female Reader story :P Plz proceed w caution

TW: !Noncon!, breeding kink!, hella cum!, he holds you down onto the mattress!, kinda sus bc u just turned 18, he deadass bites you, !pees on u in rabbit form, mounting!, mentions of euthanization of animals at the beginning!, etc..)

“-Mama, Mama!” Your voice echoes throughout the kitchen, as you hurry inside, hands clutching something protectively. Your mother turns, startled by your sudden appearance and anxious sounding voice.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did those neighbourhood boys bully you again?” Ever the mother hen, she frets over you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and taking a good look at you.

Shaking your head, you lift your hands, showing the older woman a taupe coloured rabbit, “Look! Mrs. Ruitz next door is selling bunnies! She says this one is blind, so she hasn’t sold it, so she said she’d give him to me if you say yes! Please, please, please say yes! She said she’d put him down if he wasn’t sold,” Tears bead your eyes as you practically beg your mother, who doesn’t seem to have the heart to tell you ‘no’ at that moment.

She sighs, weighing her options. You’re already ten, so you should be able to take care of him with minimal effort on her part…

“I suppose that’s alright. You just have to promise me that you’ll take care of him!” You instantly perk up, a bright smile on your face.

“I promise! I promise!” You hold the bun closer to your chest, practically rocking it in the process, “Thank you, Mama!”

The older woman smiles once more, patting you goodnaturedly on the back, “Good. Now, let’s go talk to Mrs. Ruitz- we have no idea how to take care of it.”

Walking across the street, your mother and your neighbour talk about your bunny’s proper care. It turns out, your bun is a male, who is previously named N’Doul. Not wanting to confuse the bunny, you decided to keep his unusual name, chattering away happily to him as you sat in the grass, barely listening to his care requirements.

The bun listens intently to what you’re saying, relishing your gentle hold around him.

He must be lucky, he thinks, to have found someone as lovely as you for a mate.

Eight years later, and you and your bun are still going strong. You’d recently moved into your own apartment, trying out adult life as you start college.

Today is your birthday, officially making you an adult.

The day was filled with festivities: your mom made you your favourite breakfast in bed (scaring you half to death- apparently she has a copy of your apartment key), your friends took you out shopping, and your mom took you to a birthday dinner. All in all, it was a great day!

But, a certain bun was seemingly more excited than you were for your birthday, because he seemingly peed himself in excitement the moment you picked him up. Lightly scolding him, you set him down on his rabbit bed that you made him, “‘Doul, what the heck man!” You laugh a little, remembering back to when he was but a teeny kit, “You’re not a baby anymore, bubs, you can’t just pee on me!” The bun is surprisingly smart, allowing you to let him mosy around your house (now your own apartment that you saved up for for years). After he figures out the layout, he’s able to figure out where his pee pad is, along with his grass bed, actual bed, and food/drink area. He is also able to hear where you are, allowing him to cutely hop after you if you’re not already carrying him.

Going to the bathroom to wash your hands, you hear his barely audible pawsteps behind you, “It’s okay, ‘Doul, I’m just gonna clean myself off, okay?” Flipping on your faucet, you get your hands nice and wet, before you pump some soap onto your hands, and start scrubbing, “Maybe I should shower now, since I’m already here…” You trail off when you feel you bun settle himself on your foot.

Glancing down, you catch him just in time, as he starts to hump you. Gasping in surprise, you try to gently shake him off, but that seemingly just gets himself off faster, as you feel a foreign wetness against your skin, “What the fuck? Are you serious, N’Doul?!” Annoyed with the way he’s suddenly acting, once you finish washing your hands, you reach down, and scoop the bun up, “That’s not cool, bro. Because of that, you can wait in my room while I shower.”

Plopping him in his bunny bed, you turn on your heel, and hurry back into the bathroom, closing the door before he can follow you inside.

Stepping out of your shower, you wrap yourself securely with your plush towel. Not bothering to wipe off the steam from your mirror, you bust out of the bathroom, only to be greeted with your now empty room. The door leading to the hallway is wide open, and your bunny is nowhere to be seen. Completely stupefied, you have no idea how to respond. Did the bun hop up high enough to hit the handle? That should be impossible! A Holland Lop is big, but not that big!

“N’Doul? Bun? Where on Earth did you go?” Deeming your bunny’s safety higher than you changing into clothing, you quickly move out of your room clad in only your towel.

You go room by room, searching frantically for your beloved pet. He has to be here somewhere!

So, when you finally make it to your living room/kitchen, you let out a yell of fear. There, on your couch, is a naked, bunny eared, buff man who’s humping into your previously used panties, “Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of my house!” Reaching for the baseball bat in the hallway, you hold it up with one hand threateningly, the other currently holding your towel.

A deep, rumbling laugh is heard from the mysterious man, who then tosses aside your soiled panties, “Don't be like that, Love. Your N’Doul only getting myself ready for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? And what did you do with my bunny?” He chuckles, relishing your cute reaction.

“I’m your bunny, (Your Name). I’m N’Doul.”

“The hell you are! Get out, before I bash your skull in!” He stands to his feet, completely towering over you. Gulping in fear, you move backwards, but then you notice his eyes. They’re the same milky white your bun has, “I-I’m warning you! Stay away from me, you creep!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, showing how large his hands are compared to yours, “I’m not going to hurt you- I wouldn’t be a good mate if I did.”

Without thinking, you chuck your baseball bat at his bunny-eared head, before turning and running to your room. You hear the metal bat make contact, along with a yelp of pain. Locking your door behind you, you search your room for your car keys. Not long after you dump out your purse in pursuit of your keys, you hear loud footsteps thumping towards you.

A loud bang echoes throughout the room, as the man’s hit practically shakes the foundation of the wall, “Open the door, (Your Name)! Open it right now!” He sounds angry, and when you don’t respond fast enough, he starts trying to break down the door, his muscled body practically bending the thin wood with each body slam.

Screaming in fear, you start to cry. Thick tears drip down your face, as you plead with him to stop, “I-I don’t want to! Get out of my house!”

With one last mighty slam, the humanized N’Doul breaks into your bedroom. His nose is bleeding from the bat hitting him in the face, but other than that, he’s completely unscathed. Hearing you cry, he immediately goes to shush you, “Don’t cry, Love. Now that you’re considered an adult in your species, we can finally begin our life together.”

To his chagrin, you continue to sob, completely scared out of your mind, “No! Get out! Stop pretending to be my bunny, it’s weird!” He approaches you slowly, his much bigger form slightly bumping into a few pieces of furniture. This gives you enough time to make a break for it.

You try to round his form, almost making it to what’s left of your bedroom door, only to be stopped by a meaty arm practically slamming you onto your bed. Trying to get up, you quickly realise that escape is impossible, as his muscular legs practically trap you against your mattress. He uses his weight to hold you down, as he bites into your neck, trying to make you submit.

“Shh, stop resisting me, my Love. I promise that I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives,” He continues to bite at you, as your screams are muffled into your sheets.

His large hands rip your towel off of you, exposing your slightly wet body to his prying fingers. The rough pads of his fingers rub at your erect nipples and unprepared slit, trying to get you as wet as possible.

“You’ll be a wonderful mother, I can tell you were made for this,” His cock head bumps against your tight entrance, forcing itself in as you scream.

He starts a breakneck pace almost immediately, relishing how your walls massage him so sinfully- as if you were made for only him, his inexperienced fingers rub at your clit harshly, trying to make this as pleasurable for you as possible,

Whilst this was happening, a bolt of pure pleasure shot up your spine, as he hit a certain gummy patch in your pussy, causing you to gush uncontrollably. Loud keens escape your gaping mouth, as his harsh ministrations are enough to almost make you cum immediately.

“Fuck, your body accepts me so perfectly, Love. It’s like it knows I’m going to pump you full of kits,” He lightly slaps at your clit, causing you to seize up in orgasm, quickly throwing him over the edge as well. Hot, virile cum overflows your womb, his swimmers quickly inseminating you. But it’s not enough. N’Doul, moments after orgasm, bucks into you even harsher than before, wanting to push as much of his cum as possible inside of you, “My perfect mate, I love you so much! I knew you were the one for me from the first time I met you! Only the love of my life would accept me even with my blindness!”

Still sensitive from before, the both of you hustle over the edge in mere moments, your release squirting all over the both of you.

“We’re not stopping until I know that you're pregnant, my love. Our wonderful kits are such a good birthday present, no?”

#yandere n'doul #yandere n'doul x reader #n'doul x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojo

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

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Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed.

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock!

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths.

It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then.

Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird.

They were starting to scare me, really.

“There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?”

“Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

“You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?”

The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if we have no victim,”

“But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

“Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy.

Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it.

———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down.

Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed.

Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy.

I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site.

I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it.

Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground.

Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him.

Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb.

My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated.

He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg.

The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me.

I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers.

The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’.

Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty.

I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell.

With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone.

I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster.

Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

“Get out of there, Seam brat!”

I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door.

A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason.

Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face.

A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!”

The boy scurried by with his head down.

My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction.

I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck.

When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!”

Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us.

“No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while.

When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways.

All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg.

While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me.

After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow.

“Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

“You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

“I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless.

——————-

One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise.

A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare.

I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

“Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was.

From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin.

“I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly.

“Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy.

“My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

“Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion.

Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes.

I felt smug and satisfied.

I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk.

“Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe.

“It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

I nodded.

“So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

“Same.”

He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,”

Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!”

I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game.

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it.

He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them.

Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama.

My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability.

He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd.

Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly?

Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me.

I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

“Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh.

Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed.

“Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world.

I nodded.

Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,”

Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.”

“Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

“For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

“Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?”

Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body.

“Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage.

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

The other girls hummed their yeses.

“Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!”

There were gasps all around.

It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

“What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody.

I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree.

‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with.

“Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

A big “Oh!” Swept the room.

Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all.

Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them.

Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on.

“That’s awful!” Said a girl.

“I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

“I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

“Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

“Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one.

I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker.

Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?”

My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

“Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

“Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

“It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

“Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises.

I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate.

Still…

“No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning.

“Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

“Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly.

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals.

The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me.

Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily.

Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain.

It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too.

We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.

It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup.

Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me.

I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone.

“There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me.

“I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate.

Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address.

After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe.

Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

“What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears.

Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit.

First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself?

“Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest.

“What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered.

“He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.”

I turned 16 that spring.

I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back.

I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

“Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass.

“And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

“That’ll take weeks!”

“Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!”

“Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

“What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

“Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

“I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes.

Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody.

I gasped. That had never happened before.

“How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically.

“Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly.

“What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there.

Whatever happened, was bad.

“Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced.

“No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot.

Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad.

“Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,”

“We’ll see.”

The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by.

“Look!” Gale shouted.

A shaky “D12” appeared under my message.

A relieved gasp left my mouth.

“District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2”

We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him!

I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

The answer came back faster. “S H”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned, “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

“Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such.

“Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

“He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

“Mmm… asking has been working so far,”

“Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,”

“You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

“Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

“There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,”

“You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

“YES NE”

“North East! I told you it’ll work!”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

“K”

With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district.

“Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!”

There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy.

“Anybody here?” I called again.

A weak cough answered in the distance.

I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone.

“Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me.

“Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks.

I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

“Well, don’t step on me!”

I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain.

I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue.

“Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

“I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way.

“How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

“Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again.

I was momentarily frightened.

“Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,”

His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?”

I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

“Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree.

“And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice.

He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional.

“Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

“Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly.

I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,”

He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…”

“Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

“I’m so tired, Katniss,”

“I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

“I can’t go back to my house though—“

“You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely.

I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming,

“Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated.

And that was that!

——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline.

“My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

“Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer.

“My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

“That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

“After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away.

“What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

“The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple.

I caressed his arm to sooth him.

He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

“How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius.

Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?”

“Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head.

“Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers.

Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?”

“I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

“Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

“The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

The officers stared at me, flabbergasted.

Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me.

Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers.

“Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook.

“Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!”

“No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

“It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,”

Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

“‘kay.”

“Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly.

Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned.

I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

“Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which.

“So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string.

I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods.

“Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

“Like the sunset,” he finished for me.

Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already.

He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,”

He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”

My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,”

“Thank you for finding me,”

“Thank you for leading me to you,”

We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

“Katniss…”

“Mmm,”

“We are soulmates.”

I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,”

I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff.

“If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

“It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips.

My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course.

“Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed.

After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief.

I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had.

“I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

“I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

“Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up.

“I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie.

“Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed.

“Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?”

I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness.

The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement.

Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons.

Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants.

Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help.

The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure.

The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope.

It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves.

“I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once.

After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18.

Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips.

On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control.

My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul.

After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

“You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

“Real.”

He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?”

“Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

“Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

#alliswell21 #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 154 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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