#hope the girls come out of it unscathed whatever the outcome

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Also where do you stand on the min heejin vs hybe fiasco?

[lavaffair]

Invisible String of Fate

Inukag Fluff Week Prompt: Soulmates (Born For Each Other)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33148606

It was always interesting to watch people date others whose red string was not connected to their own. It reminded Kagome that life worked in funny ways, and that everyone meets people for a reason, even if that person is not who they end up with. It was also a reason as to why she never bothered dating anyone, because if she could see everyone’s red strings, and no one was at the end of hers, there was no reason to put herself in a lose-lose situation.

Not everybody could see these red strings, but unfortunately for her she could. It was normal for people to be able to see their string and their soulmate's string, but incredibly rare for people to see everyone’s strings. Kagome was one of those rare few people on the planet who could, and she neither loved nor hated it.

Being a “fate seeker” or whatever the internet liked to call it was not as cute as none seekers thought it was. It sucked watching people whose strings were not connected to try to work it out, only to end things later on. It sucked watching people whose string did connect not feel a spark whatsoever. Although, the worst part of it all was how most fate seekers refused to date, because to them there was no point. Their strings were an ongoing path of red that led to someone who was not there. Some people followed it, others ignored it, some chose to wait Others actually found the person at the end.

As a struggling college student, Kagome had no choice but to ignore her string and the people who asked for her number. There was no point in breaking a heart that is not hers to love.

Of course, there were times where she wished her fated soulmate would show up some day, but she liked to push away those dreams to focus on reality. College was her main priority, she could worry about possibly following her string after getting her degree.

“Order for Kagome!”, shouted the barista from behind the counter of her favorite coffee shop. She quickly skipped over to grab her drink and left the store, thoughts about fate and red strings now left behind her. She was running late and her best friend was going to kill her if she did not make it to her game on time.

She had a nasty habit of arriving either fashionably late or regrettably early to everything, and there was no in between. Everyone she knew teased her about it, but it was not her fault that she had horrible time management! For her, arriving at her destination unscathed was all that mattered.

Although, her best friend Sango might end her life if she noticed that she was late because of a much needed coffee run. Kagome had stayed up late last night studying for the statistics exam that was coming up, and she needed all of the practice she could get in order to pass the course with a C. A large cold brew was an absolute necessity, and Sango should understand that this life saving beverage is what got her to her game in the first place.

Lightly jogging and sipping through a straw should become an Olympic sport with how fast Kagome was doing it. She could see her University’s gymnasium on the horizon, and that meant she was about to win the gold. With five minutes to spare until the start of Sango’s volleyball game, she was sure she was going to make it in less than ten. The double doors were coming in closer and closer, her saving grace clutched carefully within her left hand. She was going to make it, and Sango was not going to kill her!

With three minutes left she flung open one of the doors and quietly made her way inside the gym. Quickly, she found an empty seat close to Sango’s teammates and sat down on the bleachers. The girls were lined up to start the match as they had just finished their warm up. Sango’s head poked out from the line up, her eyes squinting tight as she looked through the crowd before finally landing on Kagome. Her best friend heaved a sigh of relief, with a bright smile beaming at her right after and Kagome smiled back. The rest of the girls waved at her when they noticed that she had finally arrived, and Kagome waved back and sent them a thumbs up for good luck.

The game started with Sango on the attack as usual. Her spikes were always incredible to see in person, and she always gave her all during practice and matches. The girls reigned undefeated for the past three years, and they were aiming for a fourth. Their hard work and perseverance did not go unnoticed, as the gymnasium was always filled with spectators to watch the girls play.

As quickly as the match started, it had ended, with the girls taking all three sets. Although defeated, the opposing team did not let up for one second, which caused for a very lively and intense game. It was very fun to watch, and soon the girls were lining up again to officially end the match.

A few weird tugs to Kagome’s right arm had her looking around herself to see if anyone had tried to get her attention, but as she flicked around it seemed like no one had. She looked down at her arm and noticed her mini bag slipping down, and thinking nothing of it, she grabbed her bag and flung it around her shoulder so it didn’t fall again.

Somewhere beyond the cheering crowd she heard someone loudly grunt in pain, and Kagome could not help but wonder what happened for them to grunt so loudly.

The announcer's loud voice cracking through the speakers of the gym drowned out the pained grunting, and only amplified the cheering that echoed throughout. As the celebration neared its end, the girls volleyball team cleared their way out of the gym and headed towards their locker room. Kagome knew Sango would take a while before meeting up with her after the game, so Kagome had some time to kill while she waited.

While Kagome cleared out of the gym she continued to feel her arm move around, but she brushed it off as she was engulfed in a crowd of people. Both of her arms were being shoved left to right while she walked towards the exit. As she maneuvered her way out, she decided to sit down at the nearest empty table to wait for Sango. These after-match meetings could take a while, and she learned her freshman year that sitting and waiting was the best idea.

After a few minutes of rest, her hand started fidgeting once again. It slightly moved on its own and this time, Kagome had no excuses to use against the phenomenon. On instinct, she slammed her hand down on the table and covered it with the other, but it would not stop fidgeting!

A million thoughts raced inside of her head, and an anxiety started to climb up her torso and send goosebumps all over her skin. This weird hand movement had to mean that the person at the end of her string was close by, maybe even too close by, as if they were also on campus.

Feeling brave, and a little bit insane, Kagome quickly flung her arm up and listened for any people. To her dismay, she heard nothing, and laid her hand back onto the iron table to wait. A few seconds passed by when her arm swung towards the right, causing a painful tug to her pinky to shoot up her arm.

She was too excited and high off adrenaline to even care for the sharp pain that tugged at her pinky. Kagome knew she had watched her red string go taut before her arm was pulled away from her, and towards the direction of the opposite side of the gym. She wondered if the person on the other end knew what was happening, but quickly caught herself, because it was obvious they knew. Everyone can see their strings.

Still, she stayed seated at the table in anxious agony as she mustered up the courage to go look for this person. If they had the idea to pull her hand in different directions, then this person had to be curious about this situation too.

Her butt stayed glued to the iron bench. S he was too nervous to move, the outcome of this ordeal proving to be too much for the seeker. She had seen these things play out for twenty-four years, and she was not prepared for it to happen to her. The happy endings gave her a slight bit of hope to get up, but the nightmares she had seen kept her feet planted on the ground. What if they did not like each other, or were forced to meet and have different ideals? How would any of this work, and why did the fates put this into existence? This was a lot more stressful than relieving, and all Kagome wanted to do was find Sango and leave.

Another harsh tug to her arm had her jolting up and stumbling to the side, which had totally taken her out of her thoughts. She rubbed at her sore, red pinky and whined at the tinge of pain coming from it.

“Alright, I get it! You don’t have to be such a jerk!” She yelled at nobody in particular.

She slowly put her mini backpack through her arms so as to not to disturb her fated soulmate with any tugs, grabbed her empty cold brew cup, and left her spot at the table behind. It did not matter if she was ready or not, the fates already had this written into their book, and it was now up to them to see if sparks flew instantly.

She trudged through the now empty corridors of the hallway outside the gymnasium, her footsteps echoing with every new step. The gym to her left was now empty, only filled with staff as they cleared it out for tomorrow. It had been around twenty minutes since the game ended, and Sango definitely had a long way to go before she could meet up with her.

Another tug at her arm sent her reeling forward, and if it were not for her reflexes she would have landed on the floor. Luckily, she only tripped but was able to stabilize herself once again. While she glared at no one in particular, Kagome decided to toss her empty coffee cup into a trash can close by. There was some melted ice left inside the cup, and she did not want coffee water spilling on her if this tugging kept happening.

The red string looked super intimidating as she continued her walk towards the end of it, with it seemingly appearing to be shorter and shorter with every new step. Kagome’s heart was erratic, beating so fast it felt like it could break out of her chest from how nervous she was.

She was so focused on the string that she was not ready for the next pull, which had her tumbling awkwardly down to her knees. Growing frustrated, she pulled her arm back as a form of payback.

“I get that you’re getting impatient!” She yelled at the air, “But you keep making me stumble!”

Before she could fall once again, she saw the string go taut and reacted quickly, throwing her arm into her chest and stepping backwards for support. The string stilled and vibrated like it had been played on a guitar, and the person on the other end seemed to had fallen forward, because the thread loosened up a bit.

As she felt for the second pull, she was already ready and pulling back once again. “Stop being a jerk!” She laughed.

Her soulmate on the other side kept their game up, and suddenly this string meeting turned into a game of fated tug of war.

“Oh it��s on!” She announced.

Back and forth, the duo pulled forward and back in the competitive game. Kagome did not let up for a second, and she was grateful no one was around to watch her look like a fool pulling on an invisible string. The person on the other side was not giving up, and they only seemed to pull her even harder.

She was giving a good game; her footwork and arm strength were making a great team in the attempt to win this game of tug of war. She noticed that she had made a lot of progress in closing the distance between her and her person. Although, she had no idea just how close they were.

Coming out from the trees in the courtyard was a tall, built man with long, silver hair. She could not make out too much from afar, but the closer she got she could see two little triangles sitting on top of his head. A demon, her soulmate was a demon, and a very handsome demon at that.

Her companion also looked a bit starstruck when he spotted her, his vision of her probably much more in depth than hers. She thought it was a bit unfair that he could see her so clearly while she could only make out a few features that stood out. In a shot to pull him closer, she used all of her strength to pull herself back and get him to slide forward.

The attempt failed, with the demon being much stronger than she. It was obvious that he was not using all of his strength in this game. He grinned at her, and she noticed it a little too late, because as he pulled her forward she went stumbling towards him uncontrollably. Her legs were moving forward while her body was lingering back.

She collided with a broad chest, her small arms engulfing his torso in a hug in order for her to get herself back together. She could feel his muscular arms wrapped around her waist and back to help stabilize her, and she gasped at how weird they fit together.

“You okay?” He asked. His voice was deep, and she could feel it vibrate with her head still on his chest. She could practically hear the smirk that was on his face and she huffed.

Tearing her head away from his body, she looked up at him with furrowed brows. “Of course I’m okay, no thanks to you!” She had no idea the pout on her face was one of the cutest things the man has ever seen.

“What do ya mean? I was here to break your fall wasn’t I?” He teased.

She wanted to punch him in the arm for that. “You almost made me fall, and I would have if it wasn’t for your giant body in the way!” She poked him in the chest for extra effect.

The demon laughed, “Well next time, you shouldn’t pull so hard.” He lifted his left hand for her to see it, the red string tied securely to his pinky finger.

Kagome’s eyes widened, already forgetting the little banter they were having. She lifted her right hand to show him that her string was there as well. The red thread was finally no more than 5 inches long, with each end tied to one of their pinkies.

“What’s your name?” She hated how small her voice sounded at the question.

His amber eyes flickered from her pinky to her face, and she realized then and there that his eyes were the most beautiful color she has ever seen. “Name’s Inuyasha Taisho. Yours?”

She blushed unintentionally under his intense stare. “Kagome Higurashi.”

“Higurashi….” The demon, Inuyasha, thought out loud. “You’re friends with Sango?”

Kagome gasped excitedly, “Best friends! How do you know her?”

Inuyasha sighed, “My friend's got this insane crush on her, and he tries to talk to her whenever he can. She’s mentioned you a couple of times whenever I’m around for the conversation.” He grinned at her again, the little fangs poking out making him look a lot cuter than intimidating. “I’m glad I can finally put a face to the name.”

Kagome scoffed, the little smile on her face giving her away. “That was so lame.” She laughed.

Inuyasha chuckled, “It was worth a shot.”

His left ear swiveled towards the left, the other pointing straight at Kagome in case she spoke to him. The door to the girls locker room opened, and the volleyball team started to leave. Kagome noticed it a second later, and standing near the vending machines was another guy, his dark hair just long enough to make a little ponytail. She realized that he was waiting for somebody, and as her best friend walked through the door, immediately going towards the vending machines, it was easy for her to put two and two together.

“Oh my gosh!” Kagome gasped, “She hasn’t mentioned this to me yet!”

Inuyasha grunted in reply, “It’s only just recently that she’s been giving him her time and attention. Normally it would be a short greeting and she’d leave, but I guess his hard work is paying off.”

She hummed in response, “If you’re cute and persistent, even Sango can’t say no to a fun conversation.”

“Well, I think she’s too good for him, but who knows right?” He asked.

Kagome smiled, not just because Inuyasha had questioned fate, but also because she could see Sango and Inuyasha’s friend's strings. They were connected, pinky to pinky, and it seemed like they were trying to make the little small talk work first. It was no wonder Sango hadn’t told her about him yet, because as a seeker, it would have only worried her.

“Do you always just sit back and watch them?” Kagome asked, her teasing question making him shoot an eyebrow at her.

“Well, before, I hadn’t thought I’d meet my soulmate during a game of tug of war. So, it’s safe to say my afternoons weren’t as lively.”

Blushing at his response, she bit her bottom lip and Inuyasha had to stop himself from staring at her too hard. “Well, do you maybe want to go get something to eat? You know, instead of babysitting our adult friends while they’re on a date.”

A smirk played on his lips as he fought back a smile. “‘I'm pretty tired of babysitting him, yeah. He’s got this.” His golden eyes met her rich brown and she swore she heard his breath hitch.

“I, uh, know this pretty good pizza place not too far from here.” His ears flicked nervously and all Kagome wanted to do was touch them. “You down?”

She nodded excitedly, her stomach growling at the mention of pizza and Inuyasha could not hold back his laugh when his ears picked up on it. “Pizza sounds great.” She blushed.

He did not understand why this was all happening so fast, but he liked to see her blush. He wanted to keep making her blush, over and over again just to see her cheeks tint pink and her brown eyes sparkle. Before, Inuyasha had no faith that he would ever meet the person at the end of his string. He sort of figured that life was going to be unfair to him, and he was going to end up wondering where his soulmate was. Yet, here she is, standing in front of him with wavy hair, big brown eyes, and little freckles on her cheeks.

His best friend, Miroku, was not lying when he said it feels like butterflies the first time you lay your eyes on your soulmate.

Kagome felt the same way, unbeknownst to the man standing before her, that this feeling of floating on a cloud would envelope her entirely. She already liked his laugh and smile, and could not get enough of his cute little fluffy ears. His gold eyes were the most beautiful and intimidating feature about him. Not even his fangs or claws made her cower in fear.

She wanted to get to know him better, and he wanted the same. It was an overwhelmingly intense feeling that they could not escape, and as easy as everything seemed to be falling together, it would take a few weeks for it to completely come into place like a puzzle piece. This was just the beginning, and everything that Kagome had feared about the red string suddenly did not scare her anymore.

The pair took one more look at their friends who seemed to be way too interested in each other to notice them at all. Kagome and Inuyasha walked away from them to focus on their newfound journey of discovering more about their soulmate beyond the red string.

As the two made conversation on their way to lunch, other seekers near them could spot the little red string hanging in between their intertwined pinkies.

[itsclydebitches]

It's at times like this that I'm reminded of the fantastic conversation in Volume 2, when the girls were discussing why they wanted to be Huntresses, and Weiss corrects Blake's assertion that it's a life they chose with "It's a job. We all have this romanticized vision of being a Huntress in our heads, but at the end of the day, it's a job to protect the people. And whatever we want will have to come second". Feels like that's been left by the wayside somewhat...

Most definitely, compounded by the fact that RWBY hasn’t found a satisfying balance between the show’s optimistic themes and its realistic war/over-powered villain. “Romanticized vision of being a huntress” was originally tied only to the girls’ personal goals: I want excitement, I want to fix racism, I want my family name to be redeemed. There’s a separate conversation about how the show failed to have the group realistically let those goals go in order to fight this war (example: Why doesn’t Blake try to go back to the White Fang when everyone thinks fighting Salem is impossible?), but right now, the show has also expanded “Romanticized vision of being a huntress” past what three girls want out of life and into the realm of what one girl wants for the whole world. Romanticizing is no longer the simple (and much more easily fixed) issue of, “Yang treats this job like a fun game” and is now instead “Ruby thinks she can achieve a perfect outcome where absolutely no one dies and she refuses to take any progressive action that won’t, to her mind, result in perfection.” Which is where we bump up against RWBY’s themes. It’s an optimistic show. A hopeful show. A show where we all expect the happy ending wherein the heroes break all expectations and beat all the odds... but simultaneously the show keeps pushing realistic horrors, morally gray choices, and a villain who just keeps getting more powerful. The show never figured out what optimism and hope means in the face of all that. I would personally argue that it looks like the steps Ozpin and Ironwood have tried to take, but the show has unceremoniously rejected both. So we’re left with this contradiction where our hero is pushing for perfection while the rest of the story shows that’s just not possible. At least not yet. 

Romanticizing the huntress life used to be something our protagonists were actively grappling with and, as the above scene attests, it worked really well! I was invested in a group of young girls who sought out this career for personal reasons, but are slowly coming to realize that, as Weiss says, it’s a job and what they want will have to come second. Somewhere along the line we not only dropped that message, but we expanded both what romanticization means in the story and the hero’s tendency to put their desires first. Ruby wants that perfect outcome. This is what is driving her decisions right now: what she wants. The fact that her desire is the generically good stance to take doesn’t matter because at this point her desire is blinding her to the facts. Her unwillingness to deal with the situation at hand, instead pushing for the situation she prefers - for both Atlas and Mantle to come out of this unscathed - has left her paralyzed: refusing the plan that’s offered, calling on others to solve the situation she can’t, then sitting and wondering what comes next. On the surface, Ruby’s actions absolutely align with the story’s primary themes - a simple soul filled with hope! - but that theme is no longer easily situated in this “It’s a job,” “Salem is immortal,” “You have to choose” world. My hope is that May’s line finally kick-starts Ruby’s growth, resulting in a RWBY whose themes and storytelling better align, but right now it’s just a mess of our hero saying A, the world showing B, and only a few, dismissed characters (Yang, Ren, May) acknowledging that the girl leading them is making decisions based on the future world she’s imagining in her head, not the one she’s currently living in.  

[isthisthingeven0n]

that’s not right : j.w

brief summary: jeff wants to invite trisha onto his show, but you aren’t convinced it’s a good decision resulting in you both having an argument 

word count: 1.2k requested: yes! i combined two requests to make this as they had similar aspects- i hope you both like the outcome!  warnings: mentions of tr*sha (bold/italics is past tense) 

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Sighing, Jeff follows you into your house as he closes the door behind him, knowing the argument won’t come to an end any time soon. 

“Jeff, what good is really going to come of her being on the show?” You ask once more, collapsing down on your sofa as Jeff stands in front of you, hands crossed over his chest. 

“It’ll be entertaining!” Jeff tells you, but you shake your head. “Come on, it’ll settle the bad blood between us if I invite her on.” Jeff reasons, but you rise to your feet, taking his hands in yours. 

“Babe, I love you, but inviting Trisha on your show is a death wish right now.” You state, knowing it’s true. 

You witnessed from the sidelines the last time Trisha came at Jeff, and how every now and then she unleashes her wrath onto various members of the Vlog Squad, leaving no one unscathed. 

“Maybe not, she’ll just talk it out and maybe I’ll invite Jason too.” Jeff laughs lightly at the thought before seeing a frown form on your face. “Or not?” 

“It’s a bad idea, Jeff.” You tell him straight, walking away and toward the kitchen leaving Jeff stood on his own, annoyance rising through his system at your disapproval.

Following after you, Jeff blurts out in your direction without thinking. “Maybe you’re just jealous of me having another girl on the show that’s not you!” 

As soon as the words leave his lips and you noticeably tense up, Jeff realises his mistake. 

“Y/n, I-” Jeff starts, but you turn around on your heels, glaring at him. 

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, walking away and heading up the stairs. 

Jeff jumps at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, realising he well and truly messed up this time. 

Sitting in your bedroom, you curl up on the bed as anger rises through you. All you wanted was to keep Jeff safe and stop anything happening to him. You couldn’t keep your boyfriend in bubble wrap, but there were sharp edges that can be avoided, Trisha being one of them. 

“Hey, babe?” A quiet knock on the door interrupts you from your thoughts as Jeff peers his head through, seeing you curled up with a pillow on your lap. “Can we talk?” 

“I don’t know, Jeff. Are you going to tell me I’m jealous of your friend’s ex- girlfriend who is trying to ruin you guys?” You snap, and Jeff sighs as you avert your eyes from him once more. 

“Alright,” He waves his hand, turning back around and heading down the stairs. “we’ll talk in the morning.” He admits defeat, taking the couch for the night whilst you cry yourself to sleep, missing his arms around you. 

*

Sitting upright, you turn to see his side of the bed vacant, untouched the entire night. “Fuck.” You mutter under your breath as you rub your eyes, having had little to no sleep as your argument circles your thoughts. 

Climbing out of bed, you grab one of his hoodies and slip it on before heading down the stairs quietly. As you reach the bottom, you look over into the living room to see his legs hanging over the edge, the blanket not quite reaching his feet.

“You awake?” You call out, but Jeff remains silent. 

Turning around, you walk into the kitchen to make some coffee for you both, knowing if anything will spark a conversation it’ll be over a cup of coffee. 

What you remain unaware of is the fact Jeff has been awake for hours, contemplating exactly what to say to you. He couldn’t sleep as comfortably as he imagined, hearing Nerf panting beside him most of the night mixed with various potential apologises doesn’t make for an ideal nights rest. 

After the coffee finishes brewing, you wander back into the living room Jeff sits upright. You can see he’s barely slept, and he can tell the same with you. 

Extending your arm, you pass him the mug which he gladly accepts. “So,” Jeff speaks up, sipping his drink as you sit down on the armchair, Nerf waddling over to sit by you. 

“So,” You sigh, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. “can I start?” You weakly pipe up, seeing Jeff nod as you shuffle in the armchair, your legs huddled close to your chest. “I wanted to apologise for the way I reacted. The reason I said all that shit in the car and when we got back is because I’m worried about your image.” You explain as vivid memories of you both shouting in the car resurface in your mind. 

“No, Jeff, it’s a fucking stupid move!” You’re yelling as you drive and you can feel the car getting faster. 

Jeff reaches his arm out. “Slow down, Y/n.” He sighs heavily as you pull up to a red light, still gripping the steering wheel tightly as your knuckles lighten in colour. “Why can’t you just let me see if it works first?” Jeff spits back at you. 

Scoffing in response, you drive on as the light changes to green. “Because she’s already damaged your image once. And you’re dumb enough to do it again?” 

“So I’m dumb now?” Jeff retorts, crossing his arms as he leans back in the passenger seat. “I thought you were going to be supportive of my decisions.” He adds bitterly, glancing over to see you clenching your jaw as you pull up outside your house. 

“I didn’t mean to call you dumb, or stupid or anything. I was just scared she’d ruin things.” You play with the hems of the hoodie, seeing the blue thread you added to the black cuff now fraying. 

Jeff rises to his feet, walking over and kneels in front of you. “I’m sorry I shouted at you like that at all.” Jeff speaks softly, waiting for you to finally look at him in the eyes. “And that I said you were jealous, or unsupportive of my decisions. Because I know you want what’s best for me, as that’s what we do in this relationship.” He reasons, reaching out to take your hand in his. 

Closing your fingers into his, you squeeze lightly in response. 

“If you want to bring Trisha on, I’ll support you.” You tell him, now looking at Jeff with a small smile. “Whatever shit she says, or doesn’t, I’ll stand by you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jeff smiles as he brings his other hand up, moving the loose hairs out of your face and tucking them behind your ear. “I think there’s someone else I’d like to have on the show first, someone less problematic.” Jeff tells you, watching as you quirk an eyebrow. 

“Oh, who?” You ask him curiously. 

“You.” He states before rising to his feet, you copy the action. “If you’ll come on, that is.” He adds, partly scared you wouldn’t want to be on camera with him. 

“I, I’d love to.” You say with a bright smile. “Be nice to be on the other side of the camera for once.” You giggle lightly before wrapping your arms around Jeff, feeling his slide across your waist. 

“We’ll set it up then, oh and one more thing, baby?” Jeff mutters, hearing you hum. “Wear my clothes more often.” He adds, feeling you smile against his chest.

[wouldpollyapprove]

I’m Not Like Her: Part 2

Summary:  Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: I’m considering doing a third part for this, I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I would do but that’s only if you guys want me to. I hope to have a few headcanons out this week, so be looking for those. And I’ll be closing requests sometime this week.

Part One

Masterlist

God only knows how long Y/n sat in misery, tears staining her cheeks. No one cared to look down the alleyway to see a teary-eyed girl, crumpled against between the buildings. They’d all seen it before. For one reason or another, those on the street had caught girls with red puffy eyes, using the alley to shield them from the world. So, there Y/n sat, the only one feeling sorry for her was herself. No one cared about her problems, they all had their own. 

The waterworks eventually stopped, their creator dehydrated and tired, and Y/n made her way home, tired of the filth surrounding her. The sun was starting to set and wind blew violently through the streets, a warning of an upcoming storm. She gave no mind to the weather, eyes to the ground, as the events of the last 24 hours played on repeat in her head. Looking back, there was little that could’ve been done to prevent any of it. If she’d been honest from the beginning about her life in Scotland, Tommy wouldn’t trust her just as he didn’t at that moment. Nothing could save her from that outcome. Truth nor lies could bring her peace.

Rain pounded the ground before she was halfway home. Those still on the street set a quicker pace, trying to keep from getting soaked, using newspapers and coats to shield themselves. Not Y/n, though. No, she let the water drowned out her surroundings, soaking her hair and clothes. There was no reason to rush home as it was. 

Even miserable, she couldn’t help but smile when a long-forgotten memory resurfaced. 

It was years ago, in Aberdeen, right after Roger had taken over his father’s company and all his time was spent at his office. The man had finally been able to find time to escape the clutches of business and out of the blue took Y/n on a picnic. When he wanted, Roger could be a romantic, a side few got to see, it was his best side. Up a hill, they went, near a pond surrounded by willows. The two watched ducks swim between reeds as they munched on their food until rain fell from the dangerously dark clouds above.

A shriek left Y/n’s lips when it started to come down in buckets. “We’ll never make it to the car unscathed,” she shouted and tried to pick up their plates.

Roger was already on his feet, love in his eyes. “Then how ‘bout ya dance with me?” A hand extended to his partner.

“I’d love to.” A bright smile on her lips as she took his hand, using him to help her up.

Only fools in love would dance in the rain, but neither cared how foolish they looked. Lovers rarely cared about anything but each other, the title of fool never crossed their mind. They danced, without music, to the beat of the rain. In that moment, they were the only two in the world, their problems washed away in the rain that.

If only there was someone to dance with her on the streets of Small Heath. Take away her pain and love her like a fool. Spin her around, step to the memory of any waltz that came to mind. But all alone she stood, soaked to the bone, as she trudged home. There was no love in this rainstorm, only misery. 

In the safety of her home, Y/n didn’t bother to rid herself of her wet clothes. They were like a second skin at that point. She’s lost the chill feeling that set in during rain, numb to everything but her aching heart. Like a lost dog, she wandered around the house, seeking nothing in particular. Walking through the kitchen, she opened the fridge, nothing caught her eyes so she shut the door. In the parlor, all the books had already been read and there was never anything interesting on the radio. Her bedroom held nothing of interest. She wasn’t tired, didn’t want to change her clothes, didn’t want to do anything. She couldn’t sit in fear that her sorrows would drown her.

Like a ghost, she was on a loop, cycling through the three rooms. Each time, hoping something would catch her eye, pull her in. Nothing ever did.

And then there came a bang at the door.

Violent and demanding, again and again someone hit the wood. That was enough to pull her out of the trance she’d been in. Eyes wide in fear, Y/n stood in the threshold between the kitchen and parlor, uncertain if she should approach the door. First, she assumed it was merely thunder that struck the street outside, but it didn’t let up. Bang after bang, it continued. It was no thunder. It was a person, she had concluded, but there were no voices, no traces of who could be on the other side. She was certain that if it was someone she knew they would make themselves known. 

Before she could make a move, a brutal force caused the door to swing open, hitting the wall on the other side. A scream was lodged in her throat as her eyes locked with the man who stood where the door had been. Tall and muscular, his green eyes glowed in rage. A smile that could have been friendly in a different light made him look like a predator after capturing its prey. Swallowing down her scream, Y/n realized how much like prey she looked. Cornered, small, pale, alone.

The perfect meal.

“No wonder Roger would kill for you,” the man snickered, eyes scanning her body. A shaky breath parted her lips, wishing she could curl up in a ball. The stranger’s intent was unclear, but she knew it wasn’t friendly.

Hands shaking, Y/n clasped them together, intertwining her fingers. “Whatever Roger did, it’s doesn’t involve me.” The words, meant to be confident and strong, came out meek and earned a laugh from her intruder.

He moved from the door, taking in his new surrounding. “I don’t believe that’s how that works, darling.” In the blink of an eye, he stood before her. Damn his long legs. Y/n sucked in a breath, urging her body to move, react. It failed her, doing nothing. “Roger will know better next time.” A rough hand grasped her jaw and pulled her close, a bruise already forming from the force. “And he will not forget this.”

Neither would Y/n when the man walked out the door, his name never learned, as her body shook, blood running down her cheek. Dazed, she made her way to the bathroom. A glance at the mirror in front of her, she saw the bruises that littered her skin from being thrown around the room, cuts from knives or rings. Y/n was no helpless girl, Roger taught her how to defend herself, but she was no match for the giant that had done all that. She was a mouse compared to that man. 

There was no winning that fight. 

Y/n didn’t tell Roger, didn’t bother calling picking up the phone. She cleaned herself up, wiping the dry blood from her damaged skin, and threw her torn clothes in the corner of the bathroom. It was better to pretend the assault had never happened than let Roger back into her life. Seeing him once for a few fleeting moments was good enough for her. There was no need to give him an excuse to stay around. 

So, for a few days, Y/n stayed holed up in her apartment. There was enough food in the fridge to last her a while and enough money saved up to last her a few month’s rent. There was no need to search for a job when she looked like the apples at the fruit stand people never bought. 

Peace, or what was closest to it, settled over her as Y/n spent her time baking and reading. Anything to distract her. But that couldn’t last, now could it? Not when the telephone in the parlor rang and she foolishly picked it up.

“Hello.”

“You need to come pick up your paycheck,” Harry told her, no kindness in his voice. Tommy clearly hadn’t kept his mouth shut about what he thought she was. A backstabber.

She sighed and played with the hem of her apron. “Can’t someone drop it off?” Her question was answered with a ‘no’. “Why not?”

“Tommy said you have to pick it up yourself.”

The line fell silent before another word could be said. Y/n groaned at the thought of walking through those pub doors again. She was smart enough to know that the whole Shelby family would probably be there to greet her, shove money in her hands, and tell her get the fuck out of Birmingham. 

“What a fucking week,” she muttered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave. Not because of some misunderstanding.

Clean clothes paired with freshly done hair, Y/n left her house to retrieve her paycheck. The walk was stressful, she wore a hat to conceal what her hair couldn’t, but she feared it wasn’t enough. There were no prying eyes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel watched, ashamed from even stepping out the front door.

Finally upon her destination, she stared at the doors. A lamb to the slaughter, that’s what she felt like. She’d been kicked one too many times while down to feel like a lion. Like any animal that could stand upon another in victory. She was the field the mouse that ran from the hawk. The fly that flew straight into the spider’s web. The lamb that couldn’t escape slaughter. With all the courage she could muster, that being an ounce, Y/n took a deep breath and entered the pub, trying to forget about the lamb.

All conversations died when she stepped foot in the room, all eyes turned to her. There was no way she could meet anyone’s eyes, not when she knew what they thought of her. Tommy was against the bar, more focused on his drink than her, while his family threw looks of disgust at her. Not that she blamed any of them.

“I’m here for my paycheck.”

Polly rolled her eyes from where she sat at a booth with Esme. “Don’t know why you’d want to step foot in here now that we know what you are.”

“I asked her here, Pol,” Tommy told his aunt as he lite a cigarette. That earned him a groan from her, she was tired of his behavior when it came to women. 

“I just want my paycheck,” she announced to the room. “Give it to me and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to-”

“Why?” Tommy interrupted her.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you talk to Roger?”

It was hard to bite back her laughter, a bit of it spilling between her teeth and out her lips. “He talked to me, Tommy, not that you cared to ask though. Him and I used to be something, but that was a long time ago. But I guess I don’t owe you any explanation as to why I was talking with him because you never cared to ask before,” she sneered and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Though it was a small piece, it was enough to expose a bruised patch of skin on her jaw and upper cheek. Once full of disgust, everyone’s eyes softened. Perhaps it was a mixture of her bitter words and her damaged appearance, but it shifted the mood of the room. 

Tommy’s blue orbs, once ice-cold, warmed with concern. He stepped towards her out of instinct, “Who did this to you?” he asked, hand hovering by her cheek. He was desperate to touch her, feel her warm skin, and melt into her, but fear of rejection kept him from her. 

She shrugged, the shame from the walk over boiled away from anger. “Doesn’t matter,” Y/n waved the question off. “It’s not your problem anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He threw his arms in the air, any thought of his family being in the room vanished. “Who did this?” He demanded.

Y/n couldn’t meet his eyes, instead, taking in the pub’s walls she’d looked at almost every day. They hadn’t changed, but they didn’t have eyes that could gaze into the soul, nor lips that could crush the heart. Walls, that’s all they were. Nothing but wood, nails, and paint. They could do no harm. 

Perhaps the shame hadn’t gone away.

It sat dormant for a while as she felt like a lion, but once again she had become the mouse. The answer wasn’t one to fear, it was rather simple actually, but that wasn’t what kept it from her tongue. More than anything, she feared Tommy’s reaction. With the flip of a switch he could become a violent monster and she didn’t want to see that. She didn’t want to know the things he would do, the things he was capable of.

“Y/n,” his voice soft like honey pulled her gaze to him. She said nothing as his arms wrapped around her in an embrace. It was only minutes ago that he wanted nothing to do with her. “I should’ve talked to you instead of sent you away,” he whispered in her ear, hand rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for that. Now, please-” Tommy pulled away to see her face, the bruise on her jaw along with other small cuts clearly visible. “-tell me who did this?”

Not one for displays of affections, Y/n wanted to relish in the embrace for as long as she could. There was no telling when the man would do something like that again. But she knew that answer had to be given. “Someone Roger fucked over,” she muttered. “I don’t know his name, but none of that matters.”

A gentle finger lifted her chin, softer than the one that’d bruised her days before. “It does matter. Now, let’s get you a cup of tea and we’ll talk like we should have in the first place.”

*~~*~~*

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[suits-of-woe]

Yet Edmund Was Belov’d

Shakespeare Appreciation Week — Day 4: Villains Day

So...you all knew who this day was going to be about. What better day to show my love for everyone’s favourite bastard? Thanks @harry-leroy for always enabling me. But I figured I’d appreciate more than one Lear villain I stan by posting the full version of an Edmund/Goneril fic I wrote ages ago that sparked my love for this disaster ship.

I wish I’d written something new, but my creativity levels have been negative all quarantine. Writing this last year was basically my gateway drug to thinking about a lot of dynamics that don’t appear here because I hadn’t thought of them yet. So I’m not super pleased with this, but it’s what I’ve got.

This fic is called “WHY did William Shakespeare leave the two loneliest characters in King Lear to die offstage and ALONE and expect me to be okay?” So I remedied that, a bit. Tw for death (including semi-graphic details of death by stabbing) and suicide. Slight AU in how 5.3 plays out, but the outcome is the same.

As the servant rushes off with the bloody knife clutched in his hand, and the other attendants take no time to scatter and disappear from sight, Goneril is the only person left in front of Albany’s tent. Unless she can count Regan, she supposes, but given that Regan is truly gone now, a body without mind, all at her sister’s hand...well, she probably can’t. It’s a thought too overwhelming to sit with. Her mind races. As does her heart, which is still pumping steadily, all the blood in her body strictly confined under the unscathed surface of her skin. She makes an effort to quiet her breathing, just in case any whisper of the sound might reach a lingering witness. Starting now, Goneril is supposed to be dead.

It’s an absurd plan. Nothing resembling a long-term solution, but it was the only thing occurred to her in the frantic moment when she realized her husband had finally grown half a vertebra at precisely the wrong time. It was easy enough to achieve. The servants were eager to help for a small price; Oswald had been her best, of course, but she still had more than her share of loyal followers. She’d had the knife already. All she had really needed was a body to bloody it with, and helpfully, she’d already supplied one of those for herself.

The wound in Regan’s chest is still open and flowing freely, and Goneril dips her hands in it to begin creating the illusion of a matching one on herself. She doesn’t feel guilty for stabbing her, not exactly. The only thing Regan had to look forward to was ten minutes of slowly choking to death; if anything, Goneril did her a favor. It’s just that she can see too much of her sister from this angle, leaning down so close. There’s the tiny scar above her eyebrow she got falling down the stairs as a young girl. The red hair intricately braided, just like their mother taught them. The gold chain around her throat – given to her by her husband – and the love bite near the base of her neck that most certainly was not. It’s impossible to look at Regan and feel nothing.

But it’s not Regan she thinks of as she arranges herself on the ground in a relatively comfortable position, peeking through her lashes at the surrounding tents. She made her choice. She did not choose Regan. She has to live with that choice now, or die with it, and the only reason she’s not dead yet is the tiny shred of hope that maybe she didn’t choose wrong. It’s wishful thinking. Implausible, and only not impossible because Edmund is the only man she’s ever met who might be that clever. They think alike. So alike, that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance he’s exactly as wounded as she is dead.

The approach of footsteps makes her quiet her thoughts. It’s two or three men – three, she sees when she opens her eyes a sliver more – carrying a stretcher. She goes hot and cold all at once. Those black curls – and he’s not moving, but then, neither is she, and when one of the men looks at her for a long moment, he seems convinced. She holds her breath for good measure. The men move out of sight. She can hear them set the stretcher down. They leave. She’s alone with him, finally.

She forces herself to wait a minute. No signs of movement yet, but she’s still equally frozen. Drying blood is surprisingly sticky. Her breaths are too loud. She can’t make out his.

When she loses count around thirty seconds, she gets to her feet. A gust of wind blows her hair in her face. She moves ghostlike, a lump caught in her throat, as she makes her way to his side. His eyes are closed, but she knows from one look the blood is all his. He’s more gasping than breathing. After everything today, there’s little semblance of a world to be swept out from beneath her feet, but she’s still not prepared for the way her stomach drops. He’s Edmund. Pain doesn’t suit him.

“My Gloucester,” she says softly, at a loss for anything else.

“Not yours or Gloucester,” he mutters back, his mouth twisted into a tight grimace, “anymore.”

His eyes come open, violently bright green, and for a moment Goneril is sure he can’t be dying, not when that sharp look in them hasn’t faded a bit.

“I thought you were dead,” he says.

“I know. I thought maybe you...”

“Weren’t? Well. Sorry to disappoint.”

He’s already stopped looking at her. There’s something distant in his expression too, and it must be the most ridiculous time in the world for Goneril to feel lonely of all things, and yet...

“I thought if...I mean, even if the Duke knows, I still have followers.” She can hear her voice rising, growing higher and more frantic. There’s no point telling him this now, but she can’t seem to stop. “And if we’d bided our time then maybe...or we could leave together, get away from—”

“Stop,” Edmund cuts her off. “You’ll—you’ll hate me now.”

“Hate you? For losing a duel?”

Maybe she should, or would, if he were anyone else, or if she had anyone else. But for now, she seems to have used up enough rage that there’s none left for him.

“No. I...I tried—”

The cry comes from the camp before he can finish his sentence. It’s a ragged, unearthly sound, a distillation of anguish so pure it makes Goneril want to climb out of her skin. And that’s before she recognizes his voice, and the howled sound of her sister’s name.

“Tried to save them,” Edmund finishes. He’s laughing, if it can be called that. Laughing until he begins to cough and blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth. If her father’s cries weren’t still echoing toward them Goneril would say it was the most miserable sound she’d heard in her life. “It’s just nature. I should’ve known. Once you set it in motion it doesn’t care.” He coughs again, weaker. “Guess I made you hate me for nothing.”

For a moment, she’s too numb to process any of it. But the wailing hasn’t stopped, and she makes herself go through the facts if only to occupy her mind.

Cordelia is dead. She expected that. They’d discussed it, almost, in that veiled way they discussed anything pertaining to their families. Cordelia is dead, yes, but that’s not all. Regan is dead. Goneril is supposed to be dead, but she isn’t. Edmund will be dead soon, but he isn’t yet, and he’s the reason Cordelia is dead, but also the reason her father is still alive and making those noises. He must be.

“Why?” It’s the only word to make it out of Goneril’s throat. He’s right. She should hate him for this, for making her listen. It’s just that the thought exhausts her.

“I told you,” Edmund says. “I thought you were dead.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“I thought...” He sighs. “I thought maybe I could have changed it. Not now, but before. If I did what...what was supposed to be right. If it felt any different. Better.”

“And?” Goneril’s muscles are locked. He still won’t look at her, and she can’t look anywhere else. “Did it feel different?”

“Maybe. For a moment. Before I knew it didn’t change a thing.”

She doesn’t have a response to that. Neither does he. There’s nothing good to look at, but closing her eyes only leaves Edmund’s struggling breaths and her father’s distant cries.

Cordelia!

If shattered glass could speak, Goneril imagines it would sound something like this. Otherwise, there’s no way she can possibly describe it.

Cordelia, Cordelia!

No one would guess the man had three daughters.

Regan’s blood is stiffening the fabric of Goneril’s dress, and for a second Goneril feels the urge to try and shove it back into her sister’s veins, to seal up the wound, make her undrink the poison, bring back the one person who would understand this unique agony. Regan used to understand. She used to be right there with her, once Cordelia was there and their mother was gone; she knew what it was to watch her sister be loved when she was tolerated at best. They’d had the same hunger in their eyes in those days. Once or twice, they talked about it. They shared the same daydreams, not of wildly handsome fairytale princes but of plainer men, men who might one day care. Mostly, they didn’t talk, but sometimes they’d be silent and just hold each other, because no one else was around to do it for them.

Cordelia!

They must have told him. And her husband certainly knows, even if her father doesn’t, yet she hasn’t heard her name once. Goneril is supposed to be dead, and there’s not a person living who’s grieving for her.

She can’t do this alone. Whatever he’s done, she just can’t.

“What happened?” Her words come out frantic, rushed, as she looks down and sees Edmund’s eyes are closed and she’s struck by a bolt of fear that he’s already gone. But he isn’t. The eyes open, duller, but defiantly alive. “I still don’t understand it. How did they find out? Who told my husband? Who was that man?”

“My brother.” He shakes his head, a half smirk forming on his bloody lips. “Suppose it’s...only fair. The wheel...”

“But how?” She needs to cut him off, or the defeat in his voice might just kill her for real. “How did he find you? How did he even know?”

“He found my father,” Edmund starts. “I don’t know how...he was disguised, he must have—”

“Your father?” It really couldn’t matter less, but Goneril needs to keep him talking. His voice is too weak, all wrong, but it’s still the only bearable thing to listen to. “The Earl, he survived, he’s alive?”

“Was.” He starts to laugh, chokes again. Blood splatters Goneril’s chest and neck. “Until my brother told him who he was. His heart couldn’t take it. Said he...he died of joy.”

He looks at her now, really looks at her.

“Love,” Edmund says. His breath rattles in his chest. “Ha.”

The sounds from the camp have finally gone silent. Goneril is thinking of old men, dead men, dead of joy or despair or love, but not for her, and not for him either. She is thinking of the hunger in Edmund’s painfully vivid eyes. The tenderness she feels toward him is stronger than she thought herself capable of.

But she doesn’t act on it. The rage in the back of her mind is not quite burnt out. Not yet.

“Did you love her?” Goneril asks. She needs to know. And maybe she won’t really, maybe he’ll just lie to her, but she at least needs to hear it.

Regan used to understand. She used to, and Goneril used to think she always would, she would always be there on nights like Goneril’s wedding night, when Regan was the only one to see her cry. But when Regan’s wedding came, she wasn’t crying. She was smiling like a woman with the warm comfortable glow of knowing she was cherished, and suddenly Goneril didn’t know her anymore. It wasn’t fair. She must have known that. She had it all, had everything Goneril had always wanted; it was only her bad luck that Cornwall went first and she had no one crying for her now. Cornwall would have burned down the world for her, Cornwall would have torn whoever killed her to pieces with his bare hands, and Regan must have known it. She had that love, that love that could move mountains and halt planets and break literal hearts, she must have had it and it must have been everything Goneril imagined because the second it was gone she had to do everything she could to get it back. But how dare she? How dare she tear it from Goneril’s own hands, how dare she when she had only lived without it for a few days and Goneril had never even had a taste of it in the first place?

Her face is burning again just to think of it, her heart racing out of control. Edmund’s voice pulls her back to the present.

“I don’t know,” he says, and there’s no trace of the smooth deception she’s come to know so well. “She loved me, and I think I loved that.”

She could ask him the same question about herself. There’s no real reason to think she would get a different answer. But it doesn’t matter anymore. They do think alike, Goneril knows now. They understand each other. Neither of them has ever been worth grieving for.

Edmund gasps and shivers and screws his eyes shut, muttering something Goneril can’t catch, and that’s when she knows what she has to do. There are no more lives for her to try and save, but she can give him this.

“My love.” When she kisses him, it’s with too much passion for a dying man. She tastes blood, but when she pulls away, there’s something like joy mingled with the pain on his face. “My Edmund.”

He doesn’t speak, and she’s not sure if she can anymore. She holds him instead. He’s heavier than she expected, limp and unresisting in her arms, but she clutches him close, feeling his the irregular rise and fall of his chest. He clasps weakly at a handful of the fabric of her dress. She cradles his head, smoothing back the dark curls off his forehead. At least he can’t see the tracks of blood her hands leave on his skin.

When she moves back enough to get a good look at his face, she’s surprised to find silent tears running down his cheeks. She’s equally surprised that she doesn’t mind.

It can’t last. Maybe that’s what makes it halfway bearable, but it can’t, because no matter how tight she holds him it doesn’t stop the dark stain on his abdomen growing wider and wider by the minute. His fingers weaken, twitch, release the hold on her dress. She can feel the labor it takes for him to draw air into his lungs. Every time he breathes she half wishes he wouldn’t.

She doesn’t mean to break the illusion, but it must be agony, and watching it feels crueler than anything else. She makes her voice low, as close to comforting as she can manage, as if she’s only watching a lover drift off to sleep.

“Do you want me to stop it?”

She doesn’t need to gesture to his dagger to know he understands. When he inhales, it sounds like he’s taking in water and not air, but he shakes his head, tears still making tracks in the grime on his face.

“No,” he says, almost inaudible. “Not...not yet. Just—”

He can’t finish. He doesn’t have to.

It might be a nice touch if she could cry for him, Goneril thinks, as she resumes the slow stroking of his hair. It’s only then she realizes her cheeks are already wet.

In one way, it is nothing. He says no more. She says no more. Minutes pass. He stops breathing. Death is that simple, he would say. Only natural.

In another way, it is everything. It is the thing she’s always wanted, the thing he’s always wanted, the culmination of what they’ve both been craving for god knows how long. And then it is gone.

From far away, Goneril can hear shouting and rapid footsteps. The sounds seem imagined at first, intangible next to the weight of Edmund’s cooling body in her arms. But still, they are coming. The time is up, the wheel has turned, and she cannot find enough strength in her legs to try to run.

Regan is gone. Edmund is gone. Her only companion is the dagger at his belt.

She’s already playing the tragic lover for him. She may as well act the last of her part.

[makeyourchoices]

The legion (the 4 of them) with a soft female survivor s/o? Please and thank you!

Thank you I love them...

The Legion (Frank, Julie, Susie, Joey) with a soft female survivor s/o!

Frank

Frank isn’t much for being soft himself, but having a soft girlfriend? He’s just fine with that.

You being a survivor means you’re even softer in his mind, which is an added bonus.

He’d be pretty protective of you - it almost comes off as territorial, even. Outside of trials he always comes to bring you up to Ormond to spend time with him and the rest of his group. He likes to keep his eye on you.

He says that but really, he does enjoy having you near too. It makes him feel tough, in a way.

He will also be a huge show off. He’ll even act tougher just to get you to be impressed with him. He’s very needy for attention and approval whether he says so or not.

You being softer though makes him want to try harder for you. It’s about as soft as he can get - the idea of improving himself in whatever ways he can strictly for you is sort of romantic, coming from him. Or at least, as romantic as it can be.

If you get along with the rest of his group, he’d be ecstatic. He may not say it but it’d be obvious in his eyes and even in his smile how glad he is that you and them get along. He likes knowing he doesn’t have to try and juggle, and plus it helps them keep an eye on you as well.

He’d still mess with you during trials, but more than likely you’d get away with only a hook or two. If your teammates don’t come and save you, well… They better hope they come and save you. You’re more precious to him than he lets on.

Julie

Julie loves how soft you are. It actually makes her very happy to be the tough one in the relationship.

You’re the one she won’t be tough on though, surprisingly. She can be tough with the guys but, like with Susie, she’s very gentle with you. Odds are she’d never want to raise her voice at you and if she ever did, she wouldn’t make you wait for an apology. 

Of course, she figures you’re able to take care of yourself. She’s seen you in trials - but that doesn’t mean she’ll treat you how she would the guys. She doesn’t mean it to be insulting, and it would never even come off as patronizing from her. She just loves to look after you.

She’s very protective of your personality. If anyone picked on you or tried to “toughen you up”, even one of the other members of the Legion, she would have something to say about it, and she’s not afraid to back up her bark with her bite. She never wants you to lose that soft nature of yours.

If you were the one to insist on wanting to toughen up, she would help you herself and only when she was assured it was for your sake and no one else’s. Even then, she would treat the situation carefully. 

She’s a very motherly girlfriend. Like mother bear motherly. If anything ever bothers you and you tell her, you’ll be damn sure she’ll take care of it with an iron fist.  She isn’t afraid to show her love with action along with words. You’re hers, and she will take very good care of you.

Susie

Susie is very soft herself, so you can bet she’d love how soft you are. It would definitely help her to feel more relaxed and comfortable.

Of course, she has toughened up a bit ever since she met Frank with the other two, but she is still the softest of the bunch without a doubt. It would show in her interactions with you, too.

She would love to cuddle, whether she’s the little spoon or you are. Her favorite thing is to hold or be held (or both!) and just quietly talk about anything while listening to music. She’s a lot shyer than the other members, so she does a lot better in private with you.

Of course, she is still a killer, and one who no doubt has much more of the Entity’s influence in her than some of the other killers. If she sees anyone mess with you during a trial - sabotaging you, trying to give you away to escape for themselves, etc, you can bet she will feel a fury she has never quite felt before.

Needless to say, they would have been so much better off treating you like a teammate and not a scapegoat.

Out of all four, she’s the most likely to let you escape trials completely unscathed. She can’t 100% of the time, but she will as often as she can. Your screams of pain hurt her immensely. 

Expect a LOT of love after trials, regardless of the outcome. Lots of hair pets, gentle kisses all over your face, etc. Sometimes she gets teary-eyed over how much she cherishes you, even. You’re as important to her as the rest of the Legion is, her family, if not more. 

Joey

Oh boy, this boy will flaunt everything about himself and you. Think peacock, but even more intense.

He knows you’re soft, so what does he do? Show off how perfect he is for you by being not soft.

(Spoiler warning, he’s actually insanely soft but just in private.)

When you two are alone, expect to be in his lap in bed, being rocked back and forth as you lean back against his chest, and him unable to help the grin on his face or the giggles escaping his chest. He can’t help but be absolutely giddy with you.

Even in trials he’ll sometimes goof off with you, going into Frenzy and just vaulting through windows in your view. He wants you to see how athletic he is, and though you can’t see behind his mask you can just tell he’s grinning from ear to ear.

Outside trials, he follows you like a lost puppy. He isn’t afraid to tell you why - he wants to make sure no one messes with you, not even the rest of the Legion. He knows the girls wouldn’t, but Frank? That boy is a wild card. Joey loves the guy and they build off each other, but that doesn’t mean he wants to give Frank the room to mess with you.

Expect Joey to be very playful with you. He has arguably the most energy of anyone in the Legion, so expect a lot of that energy to show with you. Whether it’s showing off or even things you may not expect from a killer like a tickle fight just to see you rolling around and laughing under him, he will be all over you all the time. 

If you fluster easy too, expect to be flustered a lot. A lot of pet names quietly exchanged when no one else will hear or soft compliments.

[zeroblck-blog]

PULL THE TRIGGER’⚠

PROJECT : MADN3SS LOOTBOX : RUSSIAN ROULETTE 

no matter what it was that the collective wanted, zero was willing. 

his latest willingness to gain more points had put him in a game of russian roulette. a high stakes game just for the sake of each person getting more points to get ahead of their opponents. luckily for him he didn’t know anyone that he was playing with, which only made him want to beat them even more. to walk out of this sick game alive or wounded, either was better then getting killed. 

there was a group of six, zero along with five others. each more nervous than the rest ( zero included ) even if they all tried to put up a front that they were fine, that they could do this as if it was nothing. zero could feel the young girl sat next to him fidget, shifting her weight as she sat there waiting for her turn. he knew that the odds were one in six, that one person would end up getting shot with the others walking out of this unscathed. but at the time he knew the collective too well by now to know there was probably more than one bullet loaded in the gun. that there would probably be multiple casualties because after all it was a high stake game, and the points were rewarding. 

and if the stakes really were that high, would there be more then one round? would they keep going till one person walked out this as the victor. that was how the collective usually worked after all. the thoughts were swimming round his mind, hands clamming up from the million and one thoughts zero now had. eyes watching as one of the six loads the five rounds along with one blank into the revolver before spinning the cylinder with his finger. placing the now loaded gun onto the table.

each of them would take it in turns to hold the gun to their head, pulling the trigger to see whether or not they would receive a bullet to the brain or a blank. all of them hoping for the blank and all of them on edge with the outcome of the other members. zero inhaled and watched as the man who had loaded the gun picks it back up. “i may as well start then.”

“how do we know you don’t know where the blank is” another speaks up.

zero practically rolling his eyes. he saw him spin it, they all did. but he did sort of have a point, after all the guy could have calculated exactly where it landed.

“yeah? and thats why you think im going first? wow you really are a loser.” he retorts, placing the gun to the side of his head and with a shakey finger pulls the trigger. theres a loud bang, followed by the splattering sound of liquid landing on whatever it could find. the walls, the floor, table and the poor girl that had been sat next to him. she of course screams before the room falls completely silent. 

eventually zero speaks up “well i think that answered your question.”

the girl shakes her head when two of the others grumble that its her turn. refusing to pry the gun out of the guys fingers. the one that had questioned the guy speaking up once again. “come on we all agreed to this, you gotta pick it up otherwise the collective will kill you themselves”. once again the man had a point and before anyone can say anything else she picks the gun up. holding it a little bit away from her head (compared to the guy who had held it dead set against the side of his head.) closing her eyes and muttering a prayer before pulling the trigger. theres another loud bang and she instantly falls back in her chair, body becoming limp and lifeless. the bullet jamming into her brain and killing her instantly. no exit wound and no blood splatter.

that was two of the 5 loaded bullets. there was three more and four people left to take it. everyone desperately wishing and hoping they would get the blank. the guy next to zero takes the gun and wastes no time in pulling the trigger with the gun against his head. 

another loaded bullet.

by this point zero is shitting himself. the adrenaline pumping at full force through his body when his fingers take the gun, what the hell was he doing and why had he agreed to take the risk and go further. this had to be one of the worst things the collective had ever done to him and this was his third season. “oh my god” he mumbles as he places the gun against his head. finger trembling against the trigger as his eyes look up to the last remaining two behind him. “i guess if i die i died playing a good game.” he jokes before finally pulling the trigger. 

theres a loud clicking noise, but no loud bang like the times before him. 

the gods really had been smiling at him once he realises he’d been blessed with the blank. “live to see another day.” he muses, smug smirk growing on his lips as he watches the girls eyes widen next to him. she knew at that point her fate had been sealed, refusing to take the gun from zero’s hands. “if you don’t take it, i’ll shoot you myself.” zero remarks (though he knew he wouldn’t do it) with the girl finally taking the gun, she places it to her head but at the last minute lets out a loud shrill or a cry and shoots her self in the thigh, screaming out in pain and passing the gun to the final guy. he and zero both looked at each other with a weird look and then looked back to her. zero watching as she winced in immense pain “they never said we had to shoot ourselves in the head.” she splutters out, watching as the blood began to pour from her leg. “but what if they don’t heal you.” said the guy, placing the gun in his mouth and shrugging before pulling the trigger.

blood splattering against the wall, like the guy who had started. zero eyes wide and in shock. “what the fuck.” he calls out before the door opens and masked figures pull both zero and the girl away, congratulating the two survivors. 

[narglesonthebrain-blog]

Some Recommendations

These are just some of the good fics I have read and saved in a google doc. The descriptions are taken directly from the site I found them on. Some are short, most are long. Some are incomplete, most are complete. Most are time travel, some aren’t. Most are canon ships but there’s also some tomarry, arthur/merlin, harry/salazar, sirius/harry, scorpius/albus, hermione/fred, destiel, maybe a wincest fic or two? I also think there is some Dumbles bashing in a few of these, but absolutely no Weasley bashing (how can someone hate the Weasleys?). I honestly don’t remember reading some on this list, but if I figured if I thought it was worth saving, it must be good. Right? Oh well, you’re welcome to look at them anyway. Have a great day and send some love to the writers if you end up liking a story. Remember fan fiction is their hobby, not their job <3

Harry Potter

Schism

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10127452/1/Schism

AU. Time Travel. Harry Potter knows he is a wizard. He knows he is going to Hogwarts, where he will make friends for the first time in his life. He knows this because the Voice in his head told him so. The Voice says it is him from the future but Harry just wishes it would stop trying to take over his body.

Lady Prince A Time Travel Story

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11755564/1/Lady-Prince-A-Time-Travel-Story

Hermione hated seeing her second family so sad, and so she attempted to use her time turner to go back to the battle to save Fred. However the Burrow was attacked and a spell hit Hermione's time turner catapulting her back into her petrified body and her second year. Hermione finds out she is really A Prince and decides to try and save everyone.

Into the Past

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5502108/1/Into-the-Past

Harry and Teddy time travel to the past to OotP. Unsure of how and not knowing how to return and definitely unable to prevent changing past events they are in some pickle.

Back To The Past

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7178492/1/Back-To-The-Past

Harry and Ginny are somehow transported 8 years back in time. Now they find themselves trapped in their 15/14 year old bodies with their memories intact, surrounded by people who have been dead for years, and did I mention that Ginny is still pregnant?

The Cost of Time Travel

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6905950/1/The-cost-of-time-travel

In most time travel/redo fics, the characters come from an apocalyptic future. I've always wanted to see one where the character actually loses something by going back, how would they deal with the grief? Ron finds out.

Another Chance

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4000601/2/Another-Chance

Complete! A cliché time travel story with a twist. After losing his friends and family to the war, Harry travels back in time to his fourteen year old self's body and tries to change the outcome of the Triwizard Tournament. Hinny.

Time Travel Story

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11789223/1/Time-Travel-Story

I have read many time travel fanfics, and I have always found them unrealistic. This is the story of what Harry Potter would really do if he traveled back in time. Accidental time travel, back in time to 11-year-old body, one-shot. No pairing.

Azkadent

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11816448/1/Azkadent

An accident at Azkaban flings 20 year old Auror Harry Potter back to October 31st, 1981. No one is getting out of this unscathed. Slightly cracked super powered time traveling baby. T for naughty language.

Harry Potter And The Bonds Of Time

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8076284/1/Harry-Potter-And-The-Bonds-Of-Time

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8531904/1/Bonds-of-Time-II-Fighting-Fate

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10516568/1/Bonds-of-Time-III-Age-Of-Consent

After an attack, Harry and Ginny Potter find themselves back in time before Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Stuck in the past with no way back, they decide to change the future for the better. Larger summary inside. Time-Travel, Soul-Bond, AU. H/G, R/Hr! COMPLETE!

Harry Potter and the Nightmares of the Futures Past

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2636963/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Nightmares-of-Futures-Past

The war is over. Too bad no one is left to celebrate. Harry makes a desperate plan to go back in time, even though it means returning Voldemort to life. Now an 11 year old Harry with 30 year old memories is starting Hogwarts. Can he get it right?

His Own Man

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5453054/1/His-Own-Man

In the station between Life and Death Harry makes a different choice. Now he's eleven again, nothing is going the same as before, and people are starting to ask questions, especially the Malfoys, the Hogwarts professors and, most worryingly, Mad-Eye Moody. Harry is beginning to suspect that he might not be up to this Master of Death business and everything that goes along with it.

I’ll Keep Coming

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12220797/24/I-ll-Keep-Coming

Time travel, AU. When all that Harry Potter ever loved is taken from him, when he cannot fight alone against the tide of Voldemort's evil, he has to take his one last chance. A lonely, damaged Harry returns to his past, in order to save his future. Rated M for violence, death and trauma. Will eventually include Harry/Ginny.

Back from a New Millennium

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11817220/1/Back-From-a-New-Millennium

Do-over, second chance, back to younger self, whatever you call it. Year 1-6/7. DH and Canon compliant. Romance not featured from Year 1-3, and will not be the focus after Year 4. Emphasis on friendship, camaraderie, and society. HG, RH, DA Constructive Reviews welcome

Harry and Ron's Adventure With Time Travel

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10162958/1/Harry-and-Ron-s-Adventure-With-Time-Travel

When Harry Potter and Co are alerted to the devious plot of Dolohov to go back in time to change the outcome of the Second Wizarding War there's only really one thing they can do...follow him. Will they be able to change the future? Rated T for Violence and Sexual References, also trigger warning for domestic violence as it is discussed.

The Unbroken Savior

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12025821/1/The-Unbroken-Saviour

Harry Potter gets captured in his 6th year, only to die and get sent back in time.. with a twist. He is reborn a girl with wild and uncontrollable magic as he tries to stop Voldemort's first rise to power with the help of Dumbledore. Can he change the future? Or is it set in stone?

Rewritten

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5924098/chapters/13624924

Harry gets bored of immortality and feels like he's losing his sanity. Death points him in the direction where he'll find the person who can keep him together. But when he finally finds his anchor, he didn't expect to feel incredibly possessive and protective where he all but constantly glomps poor little Tom (who fails to avoid growing fond of Harry).

It Starts with Harry’s Eyes

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5059648/chapters/11635768

Another of those time travel stories to save Sirius (in more than one way) and for Harry to have some more emotional chaos. Some creature stuff thrown in. Love the clichés and maybe create some new.  

Or the one in which a mysterious artefact kicks Harry back to a time where he collides with the Marauders and has to deal with completely unexpected emotions AND an upcoming creature inheritance - with consequences that are really going to freak him out. Maybe.  

Marauders' Era starts with chapter 7.

Boredom and Secrets

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7292944

A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

The Final Year

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8381689/chapters/19201120

Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy are attending their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, eagerly awaiting graduation. Their hopes for a quiet and uneventful final year are thwarted when pureblood children begin to mysteriously disappear.

While the boys, and their fellow Slytherins, struggle to figure out what happened to their friends, the Ministry, and the Chosen One himself suspect foul play.

For Albus, the bigger mystery may be why his feelings for his best mate have suddenly changed.

Sense of the Soul

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10842981/chapters/24071169

When Ron remarks to his wife that seer blood runs in his family, it open up a possibility that none of them had considered - that they could go back and change it all.

C’est La Vie

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3390668/chapters/7419224

The war ends on Harry's twenty-first Halloween, and, one year later, with nothing truly holding him in that world, Fate takes this opportunity to toss her favourite hero into a different dimension to repay her debt. A new, stress-free life in exchange for having fulfilled her prophecy. A life where Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived instead, James and Lily are still alive, and that Harry Potter is relatively normal but a downright arse. Dimension-travelling Harry just wants to know why he has no say in the matter. And why he's fourteen again. And why Fate thinks, in all her infinite wisdom, that his hero complex won't eventually kick in. Then again, that might be exactly why Fate dumped him there.

Praeparet Bellum (Prepare for War) http://archiveofourown.org/works/7220197

The ultimate betrayal sends seventeen year old Harry Potter spiraling six years into the past, de-aged to eleven, but retaining his young adult memories of the brutal Second Wizarding War. Determined to end the war before it starts, a war-torn Harry is Slytherin! Grey! Independent! Powerful! and Cunning!

Includes Mentor!Snape, Hufflepuff!Neville, and Sexually Confused!Draco

Also, I was too lazy to separate the chapters, so it's all shoved into one. Be warned.

Harry Potter and the Veil

http://archiveofourown.org/works/439143/chapters/748414

Something went very wrong that Dumbledore never planned for. After only a year of peace, Voldemort came back to power. Now, eleven bloody years later, Harry Potter makes a critical choice that lands him in a position that he could only have dreamed of: to do it over once again, and make it right.

Time Doesn’t Wait

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2743586/chapters/6149762

They didn't really notice Hadrian Moores at first, at least until he started getting between them and the Slytherins. What kind of Gryffindor was he? His best friend was Sirius' snake of a little brother for Merlin's sake! But that's not even the worst part.

In other news, Harry goes back in time to stop what he can only describe as the end of the world. He's since learned not to trust everything you read in 300 year old books written by madmen. Now he's eleven again and stuck in 1972, but he'll take what he can get.

Snapshots of the Marauder's school years and their interactions with Hadrian Moores, the craziest kid they'll ever meet as he alternates between the bane of their existence and a reluctant friend.

Oracle Syndrome

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10506333/chapters/23182707

It's been a year since the time-turner fiasco, and Scorpius and Albus have put time-travel in the past. However, that past may be coming back to haunt them when strange symptoms begin to show up in the boys. It's a literal race against time as bizarre visions disrupt their academics and threaten to overtake their lives.

Harry Potter: Magical Time

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7674649/1/Harry-Potter-Magical-Time

Post Battle of Hogwarts. Time-travel to the end of 4th year. Has a few cliches. Hp/Gw, Rw/Hg. Complete.

Destiny Reversed

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2507697/21/Destiny-Reversed

-COMPLETE- One morning Harry wakes up in a different world. His parents are alive and Neville bears the scar. Things are different and Harry starts to like that the weight of the world isn't on his shoulders. Neville may not be able to bear that weight.

Don’t fuck with florists (they’ll fuck you up)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769080

Unsatisfied with his post-war life, Harry decides to get to the root of all of his problems when that root was still working at Borgin and Burkes shop in the late 40s. He’s the Master of Death, damn it, he can do what he wants for once in his life.

Tom Riddle isn’t particularly happy about working at a small, dingy shop for magical artifacts, no matter how interesting those artifacts are. He’s even less happy when an insufferable stranger sets up the most obnoxious flower shop right across the street.

What follows would be a romantic comedy, if it weren’t for politics.

Xerosis

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6985795/1/Xerosis

Harry's world ends at the hands of those he'd once fought to save. An adult-Harry goes back to his younger self fic. Semi-super!Harry, Voldemort/Harry, SLASH-for the idiots

The Cupboard

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1754428/1/The-Cupboard

After Sirius's death, Harry is sinking into depression. And then, he receives a detention which leads to a shocking revelation. Will he be able to stop sinking deeper? COMPLETE! No slash.

Gelosaþ in Écnesse

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10712904/1/Gelosa%C3%BE-in-%C3%89cnesse

Caught in the backlash of Voldemort's Killing Curse, Harry is thrown through time to a world so very different from his own.

Merlin

A Fresh Perspective

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8495208/1/A-Fresh-Perspective

De-aged!Merlin, Caring!Arthur, Caring!Knights, Reveal!Fic. If that doesn't say it all, Merlin is turned into a child by ex-druids bent on raising "Emrys" to be their weapon to free magic. Plot is actually just an excuse to write Merlin-as-a-kid fluff.

Heartbreak, Secret Friends, and Stupid Doodles

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6708746/1/Heartbreak-Secret-Friends-and-Stupid-Doodles

Modern uni AU: Merlin has a secret crush on Arthur, who has no idea who he is. When Arthur has a bad break up, Merlin takes it upon himself to cheer him up. Secretly, of course.

Supernatural

Providence

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11048603/1/Providence

If you could do it all over again, what would you change, who would you sacrifice, who would you save? Dean wakes up in 2007 with over a decade worth of memories that haven't happened yet and choices to make that will change the world forever.

Star Catcher

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7030865/1/Star-Catcher

A time-traveling mishap will make two children and a fledgling realize that the unexpected can sometimes be a good thing.

And Beats High Mountain Down

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9017986/1/And-Beats-High-Mountain-Down

Sam is confused and hallucinating; Dean is crippled and drugged to the gills. It is, in short, about the worst possible moment for sudden, unexpected time travel. [Teenchesters/season seven]

Unchangeable

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1792738?view_full_work=true

Sam was left reeling after he saw Dean disappear with Crowley. Unsure of what to do, he called Cas. But before Cas reached him, Sam woke up . . . in bed with Ruby. The year is not 2014, but 2008. Sam can now change the future--but will he tell Dean?

Beyond Two Winchesters

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2114772/chapters/4613904

Supernatural AU in which, along with his mother, Dean dies in the house fire. He can't leave, though. Not when his little brother is still around to protect.

Worlds Collide

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7352806/chapters/16701496

As an angel, Cas saw time and again that it is impossible to go back in time to alter fate. He knew this as an immutable fact, right up until he found the loophole—to send the mind of the present back to merge with the body of the past. It took a lot of creativity, psychotropics, and a willingness to die, but Cas found a way to send himself and Dean back to 2005 for a chance at averting the apocalypse. Once there (then?) they discover that the hard part isn't going to be changing things, it's going to be adjusting to living in a world not being destroyed by the apocalypse.

Sincerely, Sam

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9410219/chapters/21302900

Sam Winchester is praying for death.

Dean's already gone after sacrificing himself to take out Amara and Sam's losing more and more of himself each day at Lady Bevell's hands. He's reached his limit. Then suddenly he finds himself in 1998 and the sole focus of a supernatural lawyer who has one very firm request; She needs Sam to cure a demon. Dad, Dean, and Bobby won't let him out of their sights and Sam has enough to juggle with the swarm of supernatural creatures who think the Boy King has come back to take his crown.

Saving People

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3937051/chapters/8821393

Fixit verse: Dean and Cas time travel back in time to save first Jessica, then everyone else.

Dean kept two lists, both in his head; short, just names. One was everyone he'd ever failed to save: Charlie. Kevin. Bobby. Jo and Ellen. Ash. Dad. Adam. Jessica. So many others.

The other list named every son of a bitch he'd have to kill to save them.

How to Save a Life

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1737305/chapters/3707876

In a future ruled by Lucifer and plagued by the Croatoan virus, Cas died along with many of his friends; however God decided to intervene one last time and brought him back. The lost angel uses his new, God-given, strength to go back into the past. Maybe this time he could get it right.

[gloomybow1]

A mission with Yoongi

Genre: Smut

Tags: kinky sex / dominating Yoongi / orgasm denial / swearing/ sex talk

MAFIA AU

Pairing: Min Yoongi/Reader

Related fics (not necessary to read them in order to enjoy this story)

First part: Jungkook: When you catch him masturbating

Second part: Jungkook: When you grind his thigh

Third part:  Jungkook and Tae’s mischievous plan

Setting: A background story depicting the relationship of Min Yoongi and the sister of the head of a mafia organisation. Both of you are sent on a mission and forced to play out the roles of husband and wife.

Characters:

You: The sister of the boss of a mafia organisation. 

Min Yoongi: A genius hacker and a hit man. Due to some unfortunate events, your relationship with him can be best described as the mixture of love and hate. He’s a member of the same mafia organisation, which makes him your fellow co-worker. One day you’re both sent on a mission and forced to pretend to be happily married. 

“Fucking shit-head,” you spit out while adjusting your dress.

It might be a bit too tight and it rolls up every now and then, exposing even more of your flesh. “Why him, of all people?” your hands gently running through the locks of beautiful long hair and then you freeze. Flashbacks from the past, the day when you first met Min Yoongi, creep into your head all over again. It’s like an endless cycle of trying to ignore his malicious presence that threatens your sanity and ability to think straight each and every day.

 “Fucking impossible,” you hiss, fixing up the dress for the umpteenth time, this time around your boobs area. It’s maybe not as much that he is a complete jerk and bastard. He really can be sweet, for example to your sister. Yes, he certainly can. Your sister is his boss and he looks up to her, also, they seem to be pretty fond of each other and it’s all perfectly fine. You can understand it all. She is the boss of a Mafia organisation and he’s just been doing his job, doing it pretty well, if you were to admit, resulting in their friendly bond. They hit it off pretty well, though. Something that you can’t really say about you and Yoongi. Some time ago, maybe a year or so... 

“Has it been such a long time already? Gosh,” you ponder out loud.

 But yes, indeed, it must have been a year since that day when you were given orders to kill one, particularly nasty and uncontrollable, associate of your sister’s organisation. Yeah, usual stuff. Find the guy, corner him when he least expects it, and then get rid of him, in a most cautious and quiet manner. Nobody wants to deal with problematic shit, for sure not your lovely sister. The thing is, on the way you encountered some bothersome issue, something that can be exactly labelled as problematic shit. The night when you stepped into the house of the soon-to-be-dead guy, you knew you weren’t alone in this lavishly decorated villa. Somebody else was there, not a member of the target’s family, maid, hooker, whatever, it was another hit-man. A very wily and clever one, to put it lightly. You weren’t exactly sure who was his target. At some point it crossed your mind that he could’ve been after you, but no, it wasn’t the case. The two of you finally confronted each other in the living room, two bullets killing the guy immediately. You aimed for his heart, while the black-clad stranger chose to drill a hole in his head. Disgusting...

 “Crazy mother fucker,” you still cringe at the memory. 

Anyway, the moment when the guy collapsed on the ground drawing his last breaths, you and that intruder stood motionless for a couple of seconds to assess one another’s intentions. You remember that at this point your mind was completely blank. Without much thinking, you pulled the trigger, but this sneaky little bastard must have anticipated your hasty decision cause he ducked down and then jumped in your direction, landing basically on you and immediately straddling you. His grip was strong. What really puzzled you back then was the fact that he didn’t kill you, although he really could have just taken out his gun and make a hole in your head, same as he did with this unfortunate guy. It would have been easy, taking into account your shitty mistake. Yeah... He really got you there. Something he’s been continuously reminding you about on every possible occasion. You were struggling for some time, trying to wriggle out of his grasp and somehow maybe still come out completely unscathed of this crappy situation. Not much time had passed, though, and then you heard the sounds of the police sirens. Both of you realising that the party was over, and that it was high time to clear out, ASAP. He let go of you and chuckled a little. You couldn’t see his face because of the balaclava, but without a single doubt he must have been smirking like a fucking madman. He sprang to his feet and run away using one of the back doors. You followed his lead and got the hell out of that place. He was nowhere to be seen, though. You simply lost his track. The mission was a complete fiasco. Sure, the guy was dead, but due to the mess that thwarted your plans you didn’t manage to fulfil the orders completely. You didn’t bring back with you the set of jewellery that had been your sister’s object of desire. Before kicking the bucket, the targeted guy committed one single, but what a grave mistake. The mistake that ultimately cost him his life. He robbed your sister of that fancy necklace and earrings, hoping to get away with it.

 “What a fucking imbecile,” you mutter to yourself, applying a red lipstick on your lips. 

More memories of the past events flowing into your head, and sadly, you have to admit that you really fucked it all up. The outcome was that you didn’t retrieve that necklace. Worse even, you were fucking out-fooled by some other hired killer. And later, it obviously turned out that it had been none other than Min Yoongi. You still remember the day when he appeared in your sister’s office carrying a little silk drawstring bag in his hand. He introduced himself as the man who... Oh my God... Your fist clench at the sheer reminiscence of his self-confident rant.

He said that he was “the man who is capable of carrying out the tasks that other people screw up.” 

He was standing there, looking deeply into your sister’s eyes. Then, he showed you the bag, ostentatiously waving it in front of your faces.

“Do you want to have what`s inside?” he asked. 

Your sister didn’t respond, keenly observing his actions.

“Do you?” he nagged, opening the bag in order to take out the stolen necklace. At this very moment your sister’s eyes were shining just as bright as this breathtaking piece of jewellery. 

“Let me work for you and I’ll give you this and many other things,” he offered, smiling cunningly.

And she agreed. Yes, she fucking agreed. As a consequence, this overconfident prick and annoying jerk, Min Yoongi, has become your co-worker. He has been a member of the gang for almost a year now, pissing you off whenever he just as much as appears in sight. Not to mention the moments when he opens that dirty mouth of his. To your misfortune, he’s one of the most trustworthy people here, and certainly does his job extraordinary well. He’s so full of himself that sometimes you just want to tear him to pieces and make that shitty smirk fade away once and for all, but you can’t. He’s supposed to be your partner, duh. 

“Over my dead body,” the thought flashes through your head, making you frown and cringe. 

You’re also painfully aware of the fact that Min Yoongi occupies your head all the fucking time. An unpleasant and self-loathing feeling creeps over your entire being. You can’t help thinking about him. It’s like the more you try to control yourself the more difficult it becomes. The truth is, you aren’t exactly a good girl. No, not at all. You’ve always teased guys and made them chase you, only to leave them hanging in the end, when you decided you’ve had enough of them. You simply love the feeling of being in power, seeing guys on their knees, ready to cater to all of your whims. Min Yoongi, though... He’s been persistently ignoring you and your presence, something that you’re not exactly used to. He behaves as if he didn’t give a single fuck about you, mocking you all the time and teasing whenever the occasion allows for some little chit-chat. You hate him so much. You despise every single thing about him, and yet... Yet, you keep thinking about him, and it’s all his fault. You know the exact source of your distress. He’s been giving you a roller-coaster ride, being a complete dumb-ass one day and then casually complimenting the way you look the other. Sometimes you’re not even sure if it’s a compliment. He’s been so sly and smug about everything and the way he approaches you that it’s fucking unbelievable. Another flashback troubles your pretty head. The night when he came to your room and kissed you. 

He fucking kissed you. He gripped you roughly to keep you still, and then he fucking kissed you. You were so speechless and utterly shocked you didn’t even know how to react. The kiss was oddly delicate, and should you say, affectionate even? He barely brushed his lips over yours and the grip on your shoulders suddenly became even tighter. He stopped for a moment and then softly licked your lower lip, asking for permission. You let him. You let him do that and shortly afterwards he was pressing you to the wall, kissing fondly and greedily. When both of you were short of breath, he let go, arms still wrapped around you. The look on your face must have been absolutely ridiculous because he laughed out loud, not being able to hold in his amusement.

“You can now close your mouth, silly. I’m not gonna kiss you anymore today,” he whispered tenderly, placing a finger on your lips.

The smug smirk on his face then... You’re going to remember it till the end of your days. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you are completely oblivious to Yoongi’s presence in the room. You jump, startled by the deep and rough tone of his voice that breaks the silence in the bathroom. 

“My wife wouldn’t ever wear such indecent clothes,” he comments mockingly, eyeing up your figure from head to toes.

“Oh, really?” you question, looking at him and trying to hide your state of surprise. You continue, facing him, “Do I really have to say it out loud how much I care about your thoughts on my fashion choice?” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, “Personally, I think it is not much of a fashion choice if you wear clothes that barely cover your ass.” A smirk follows. You turn around to look at yourself in the mirror again, announcing, “No fucks given, Yoongi. Not even a single one.”

He teasingly keeps on bringing up the main idea behind your mission tonight, that is - you and Yoongi pretending to be a happily married couple, attending to a party organised by your gang’s foe so as to steal some data from his private laptop. You lure the guy to distract his attention, and in the meantime, Yoongi takes care of the laptop. Easy, in theory at least. 

He picks up the topic yet again, purposefully trying to anger you even more, “Please, don’t swear. It is not fit for a lady. Not to mention my wife.” He takes a couple of steps towards you, dangerously closing the distance between you. If he reached out with his hand now he would easily manage to scoop you into his arms. 

“Oh, my. You’re so in character tonight, Yoongi. Does the thought of being my husband excite you so much?” you retort, pretending to be busy with fixing up your hair. 

“Who knows? If I worked a bit on that foul mouth of yours then maybe you wouldn’t turn out to be half bad?” he wonders out loud, staring at your expression in the mirror. 

“For fuck`s sake, why does it have to be you of all people? Couldn’t I go on that mission with Jungkook, or Tae Tae?” you whine  while washing your hands, “Anybody, just not you, dammit.” You pull at the towel angrily, wanting to dry your hands. 

“Maybe we’re meant to be? Try to think about this that way,” he chuckles. “I’d rather die a virgin than be with a jerk like...,” you don’t finish your sentence because the moment you feel Yoongi’s hot breath on the nape of your neck your mouth goes dry. Your hands frantically grip on the washbasin when he abruptly tugs on the hem of your dress in an attempt to cover your ass. You would surely lose balance if not for Yoongi’s rough grip on your hips. Nails digging into your skin and then he hisses into your ear, “I told you to cover it up, didn’t I?” He breathes out, annoyed and then takes a step back. Your body shivers a little. He keeps on observing you attentively in the mirror and then he says, “I’m waiting in the car. We’re going to be late if you continue dolling up like that.” He gives you one last look and then turns around, aiming for the door. When you’re left alone in the bathroom you can feel your legs giving up. You slide down and end up sitting on the cold tiles.

The chauffeur opens up the door of the black Bentley as soon as he notices you going down the stairs. You get into the car, sitting right next to Yoongi on the back seat. 

“I’m sure you’re aware how much depends on our close cooperation tonight,” he clears his throat and then carries on talking, “I’ll need you to divert his attention for approximately 10 minutes... Yeah, I think it should suffice.” The driver starts the engine and your body slightly rocks to the back. Yoongi resumes talking, “Providing, of course, that the guy will be stupid enough to leave his office unattended. If there are thugs keeping an eye on his shit then we’re fucked. And this will be most probably the case... Sometimes I wonder if we’re paid enough here. Your sister’s orders are getting more and more ridiculous.” 

“Wait a minute, dear husband. Aren’t you the man who ‘is capable of carrying out the tasks that other people screw up’, hmm?” you question him, sarcastically. “I’m sure we’ll be all fine, right?” you turn your face to smile gently at him. He is visibly amused by your back talk, but he doesn’t ease up on you, “As long as you make sure not to do more harm than good then yeah, I’d say we’ll most probably be all fine, Pretty face.” That seemingly affectionate pet name he’s just used to address you makes your blood boil. Your press your thighs unconsciously, doing your best to hold your emotions at bay. You promise yourself to pay him back by the end of that evening. You’ll turn the tables tonight, no matter at what cost.

When you arrive at the mansion, it quickly turns out that the place is virtually filled to the brim with the owner’s muscle-men. Not a very promising perspective, unfortunately. You’re sipping your drink at the bar when you feel somebody grabbing at your elbow. It is Yoongi. He drags you to the nearest secluded place and pulls you closer to him. 

“I’ve checked the office. It seems we’re going to have a huge problem to get there,” he informs you, looking around to double check if you’re all alone.

“Seems like it’s the moment for plan B,” you respond nonchalantly. 

“What plan B, Baby doll?” he asks, his pupils getting bigger. 

“Just make sure nobody interrupts me,” you shake of his hands and walk past him, disregarding yet another questionable nickname. 

He watchfully eyes your figure and cautiously follows your lead, keeping his distance. To his surprise, you openly approach the owner and initiate a friendly small talk. It doesn’t last long before he can clearly see, even from afar, that the guy is simply drooling over you. The last thing he registers is how you and your target disappear behind the door of the guy’s office. He swallows hard, his stomach clenching in an unpleasant manner. “Mr Min, would you like a glass of champagne?” a waitress politely offers him a drink, but he blurts out furiously, “Get the hell out of my sight, woman.” He walks away, clenching his fists.

Less than two hours later both of you arrive home, your purse hiding today’s mission loot- a pen drive containing data about the guy’s shady business. A victory. A tremendous success, even. All thanks to you. Yoongi can fuck himself. You walk into your bedroom and immediately collapse on the bed, satisfied. Yoongi enters just after you, loudly slamming the door behind him. 

“How did you get that data? I won’t repeat myself,” his voice as cold as ice. 

“In fact, you did anyway,” you start counting on fingers, “like three or four times already?” God, finally. Finally, you’re the one in control, having him in the palm of your hand. You’re fucking overjoyed, eyes sparkling with excitement. Min fucking Yoongi got what he deserved and you’re certainly going to savour this moment. “Yoongi, why are you so tensed? What happened to your good mood, darling? Tell me, you know you can confide in your wife,” you tease, riling him up even more. Hands gently brushing away some locks of hair that kept on tickling your neck. You flash the most bubbly smile you’re capable of making, eyes gazing into his.

“What the fuck is there on your neck?” he hisses out, making you jump on the bed in alarm.

“My neck?” you ask, totally unaware of the hickey. The look on his face sends a cold shiver down your spine. He comes up to you in three large steps. Your body unconsciously moves backwards, but he catches your elbow and forces you to get off the bed. His grip is so tight and forceful that you whimper in pain.

His nails bite into your arm and the sudden jerk makes you plead him to stop “Yoongi, please!”

“Did you let that bastard touch you?” he asks, doing his best to control his shaky voice. A vein on his forearm swells up, slowly changing its colour into a more bluish shade. 

“Did he fuck you?” he spits out through clenched teeth. 

“No, no, he didn’t. Please let me go!” you cry out, doing what you can to wriggle out of his grasp, but he only squeezes you tighter, bringing you close to his torso. Your eyes meet for what seems to be like an eternity. He looks hurt. You cannot believe in all of that. You want to look away, but he cups your chin with the other hand, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes. Does he actually care about you?

He whispers dryly, “You’re now going to fucking tell me what happened in that stinking office and you’re going to give me even the smallest details. Do you understand, or do you want me to repeat?” 

You nod in response, deciding that perhaps now it’s not the time to carry on with the teasing. “Fine, you fucking psycho. I sweet-talked the guy and he took me to his office, hoping to get laid, I presume. When we were alone I teased him a little and...” you hesitate for a moment, thinking about the best way of saying things out loud, but Yoongi doesn’t appreciate this pause and rushes you to proceed with the answer, “And what?” he blurts out. 

“I can’t fucking believe it. Nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing. I let him kiss me once or twice and then I asked him for a drink. He nibbled at my neck one last time, probably leaving the hickey, and then got up with his ass to take care of the booze. For both of us. I was lucky, because he announced that he has to take a piss. I used my chance and I poured some shit into his drink. He gulped the entire thing at one go, so it didn’t take too long before he was sleeping on the couch like a fucking baby. What else do you wanna know? Eh? Is that detailed enough for you?” you’re almost breathless when you’re done with the story. Yoongi’s piercing gaze makes you feel anxious. What the fuck is wrong with him... You wish you could disappear from this place. His grip loosens a bit, but still, he’s so close that you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. He’s not that tensed anymore, as if a weight was lifted from his heart. 

“Is that supposed to convince me, Baby doll?” the tone of his voice slightly changes, “You’d have to try a little harder.” He smirks, mockingly. You suddenly miss the view from a couple of minutes ago. Insecure and jealous Yoongi is better than that cocky ass. Wait a minute... Is he really jealous? You are determined to check it now. 

“Actually, you can think what you want. Maybe he fucked me senseless on his fancy desk, maybe he didn’t. Who knows?” you smile playfully, “You have no way of telling.” Your words are like a red rag to a bull for Yoongi who must have run out of patience by now. He pushes you and then you land on the bed, completely bewildered. 

“What the fuck, Yoongi?” you snap at him, propping yourself on the elbows.

“If you are so unwilling to cooperate I, as your husband, feel compelled to examine the things personally,” he informs you while placing his knees on the bed. 

You want to pull both of your knees to your chest but he forcefully grasps your thighs in order to spread them. You blush, embarrassed and furious at the same time. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”, hands on his shoulders in an attempt to push him off you. 

“I know a very efficient way of checking your faithfulness, darling. Just don’t fucking move for a moment. Could you, Baby doll?” he questions, tenderly. 

You want to punch him, but he grasps your hand and pulls you in for a kiss. You forget to breathe for a moment, obviously caught off guard. Unlike the first time, he is very rough and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, without waiting for your consent. His tongue expertly swirls around yours and then he seductively nibbles on your lower lip. He purrs softly, vibrations making you shiver in response. He’s very passionate, the tip of his tongue playfully rolls over yours. You melt into the kiss, mentally cursing Yoongi. Your arms are awkwardly spread on the sheets. What are you supposed to do? Hug him back? You are torn. He can’t possibly get to know how much you are enjoying this. Oh lord, but you’ve been itching to have him do dirty things to you for so long that you can’t take it anymore. His kisses are gradually getting more sloppy and desperate. A hand experimentally sneaking under your dress to fondle with the soft flesh of your thigh. His hand is so cold that it makes you squeak. Yoongi smirks into the kiss. He caresses your inner thigh in a circular movement, light strokes barely touching your skin, yet you involuntarily spread your thighs even wider. He takes that as an invitation and confidently pushes his entire finger into your tight pussy. You groan in pleasure, hands now roaming his body. He muffles your desperate moan with the kiss, but pulls away shortly after. You look at him through half-lidded eyes, totally gone at this point. 

“Baby doll, you’re so tight I seriously doubt that ‘he fucked me senseless’ option” he whispers breathily, lips brushing your earlobe and then he tugs at it with his teeth eliciting a whimper from you. He hooks his finger inside you, moving it in and out of your pussy. Your stomach clenches each and very time he hits the back walls of your vagina. You’re still a bit too dry for such a violent penetration, but he doesn’t seem to care at all and keeps going with sharp, deep strokes. His long finger goes all up inside you and then he puts his thumb on the very tip of your clit, brushing it gently. This is the exact moment when you lose all self-control and jerk your hips, wantonly fucking yourself on his finger. Strangled moans escape your lips as he goes on with the rubbing on this extremely sensitive organ while fingering you. He is in so deep that you can feel this familiar pressure just underneath your belly button. It hurts but you want it to be this way. He’s so violent and unforgiving. You raise your head a little and then you meet his piercing dark eyes, clouded with lust and anger. You look away, sheepishly. Face blushing all shades of red as you close your eyes, not being able to bear that intense gaze. He notices your insecurity and fondly rests his forehead on yours. You’re a bit stunned for a moment, obviously surprised at the affectionate gesture. Right then, he inserts a second finger and you arch your hips to help him a little. He smiles softly, so unlike his usual eat-shitting grin. He fingers you so well that soon enough you can hear these wet, sloppy sounds of your slit getting fucked. You’re sure that by now his finger and hand must be covered with your juices. You’re short of breath, wriggling underneath him as you chase your orgasm, uncontrollably clenching around his finger. Just when you’re about to climax, Yoongi withdraws his finger and leaves your pussy clenching around thin air, hips jerking desperately into void. 

You try to grab him and force him to continue as he gets off the bed, but you can’t reach him. Your heart is pounding so loudly that you’re afraid he might actually hear it. In silence, he languidly moves in the direction of the door, which pushes you almost on the verge of tears. You call out his name, voice all shaky, “Yoon... Yoongi!” No response, though. You stand up from the bed, legs trembling as you go after him. You stumble and almost collapse, gripping his shoulders at the last moment and clinging to him in a needy way. You’re afraid to speak because of the lump that formed in your throat. You dig your nails into his back, swallowing a sob. Is he going to leave just like that? He reaches for the doorknob and locks the door. A shiver runs down your spine. 

“What are you doing, Baby doll?” he questions and exhales sharply. 

Then, he places his hands on yours, caressing them tenderly and turns around, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

He purrs softly into your ear “I had to lock the door, I’ve been waiting for too long for this to let anybody disturb us.”

“Fuck you, Yoongi. Seriously, fuck you!” you press your knotted fists into his chest, angry at yourself for losing your cool. 

He abruptly pushes you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head and sucking the skin of your neck into his mouth. He sucks and nibbles at the sensitive flesh, as if trying to cover the place of the unfortunate hickey with his own mark. Suddenly, he stops and carefully examines the outcome, frowning his eyebrows. 

He cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him, “You better listen now, Baby doll. It was the fucking last time you let anybody touch you, apart from me. Are we clear?” You swallow hard. 

“Are we clear?” he repeats enraged and irritated with your lack of response. You simply nod absent-mindedly, staring at his wet lips. He hikes up your dress, ass and pussy on display, and grasps your leg to hook it around his waist. He starts grinding against your wetted core. Your hips rocking in unison. He pants heavily, lips hungrily looking for yours. He sets up a steady rhythm and you do your best to roll your hips together with him. 

“Baby... Baby I need you naked, so badly,” he murmurs, his hands finding their way under your dress, stroking your back and rolling up the material even higher. Seconds later, he simply rips off your dress, taking in the view of your naked body. 

He grunts, satisfied, “It’s even better than I imagined, and believe me, I had high expectations.” Your ears burn with embarrassment at his blunt words. “Has he been imagining things with me?” you think to yourself, digesting what he has just told you. He takes a step back and you find it hard to stand on your own, without his body pressed to yours. He ogles your perfect figure, slowly unbuttoning the white shirt. You haven’t noticed it before, but now the wall feels so unpleasantly cold that you really wish he was closer again, petting your skin and warming you up. With shaky hands you reach for the buttons. He smiles. 

“I wanted to fuck you so roughly you’d never even think about looking at another guy but if you continue being so cute I doubt I’ll be able to do that, Baby,” he whispers in a low voice, leaving the buttons for you and hastily unbuckling his leather belt. 

“Rough or gentle, as long as you make me cum I don’t really care,” you flat-out state your eagerness which makes him chuckle again. 

Finally, you take off his shirt, admiring his torso and perfect stomach and then you help him get rid of the trousers. You gaze down, eyes glued to his boxers that are drenched with pre-cum. You reach for the waistband, not being able to hold back anymore, freeing his cock from the irritating material. His breath hitches when he feels the cold air on his rock-hard cock. 

“Oh fuck Yoongi,” you instinctively press your thighs together when you lay eyes on his erected penis. 

“Yes, baby doll?” he hums softly, pushing you against the wall again and squeezing your ass with all his force. You bite back a moan, unexpectedly wrapping your palm around his shaft. He loves this and encourages you to go on, gently stroking your hair, “Baby doll, you know... Ahh,” he stutters when you grab his balls with the other hand, massaging them lightly while still jerking him off. He takes a deep breath and continues in a strangled voice, “Do you have any idea, how much I’ve always wanted you to do it for me?” The sinful whisper makes your head feel dizzy. His penis is so slick that your hand easily goes up and down his entire length. Then, you start twirling your finger around the head of his penis. At first slowly and sensually but then you go faster and faster and you can literally feel him throbbing. His knees buckle.

 “You have to stop, now,” he orders, weakly trying to push your hands away.

“Do you really want me to stop? I thought you wanted it oh so badly,” you tease, biting on his collarbones. 

He is so riled up and needy at this point that he violently turns you around and forces you to bend down with your ass high up in the air, hands resting on the wall for support. 

“Sure, but there is something I wanted even more... Can you guess what it is, Baby doll?” he mutters, positioning himself and placing one hand on your hip. 

You can feel as he brushes your clit with the tip of his erection and you moan so loud, pushing your ass back into his erected member. He digs his nails into your hip and you writhe underneath him because of the stinging sensation that makes your body shudder. You lift your ass wantonly and accidentally graze his dick with your soaking wet cunt. 

“Can you fucking stay still, fuck...,” he pleads through clenched teeth. 

“Can you fucking get inside already?!” you start grinding him with your ass to get him going and then he shoves his cock inside you, freezing for a moment to calm down his throbbing member. 

Your tight entrance swallows his entire length and his body goes all tense. You cry out his name, begging for more. He takes a couple of deep breaths and then begins moving in a steady rhythm. After a while, he slides all out and rams back in, barely being able to contain a throaty moan building up inside him. He repeats the rough movement a couple of times, making you feel light-headed. Once again there is that burning sensation inside your belly, and then suddenly, the grip on your hips becomes even more desperate, bruising them and causing you a bit of pain. 

“Ahh... How can you be so tight? Dammit,” he questions in a weak voice.

 His dick relentlessly pounding into you, hitting the right spot each and every time. The sounds of his hips slamming into your heat and your lewd moans fill the room, making you lose yourself completely. He rotates his hips a little and then rams back in, and you almost hit the wall with your head. 

He growls low in his throat, “Baby doll, I’m gonna cum soon, and you’re going to cum with me.” 

Your body twitches uncontrollably, you would come anyway... It’s not like he has to make any special effort. Your legs are not far from giving out and your vision is blurry. The only thing that you need now is to feel his cum filling your pussy. 

Suddenly, he pleads, “Y/N, please look at me. Please, I need to see your face,” the grip around your waist makes your skin burn, you can already tell how fucking bruised you will be tomorrow. 

You look behind, gazing into his unbelievably handsome face. A drop of sweat pours down his forehead, his cheeks are flushed and lips swollen. “Son of a bitch,” you curse him mentally but you can’t help staring at him. 

He smiles fondly and suddenly begs once again, “Baby doll, give me your hand, I want to touch you, ahh.” 

“Yoongi, mhm...,” you squeak, reaching to his extended arm. 

He holds your hand tightly and with a couple of rough thrusts your pussy starts clenching around his dick, the waves of pleasure run through your body. Yoongi moans a mixture of curse words and your name when he rides out his orgasm, cumming into you. He loses his pace, being totally lost and pounds into you erratically, never letting go of your hand. When both of you come down from your high, he gently pulls out his now limp cock from your cunt and embraces you, both of you sinking to your knees. He sits down on the floor and lets you collapse on him, positioning you between his thighs. He strokes your back helping you to relax after this roller-coaster of emotions. His cum drips down your leg and your body shudders. You’re so tired your eyes involuntarily close on their own. 

The last thing you hear before drifting off in his arms is his soft whisper, “Baby doll, you’re only mine.”

[atlaswriting]

I want to think of a scenario in which no one looses, an outcome that saves all of our naive hearts from ruin—but there isn’t a world where we survive unscathed. There are always causalities in a war of hearts and the trick is to be the one still beating by the end of it all.

“You and Sophie?”

Instantly, Abram’s cheeks turn red—but he refuses to break eye contact, “Me and Sophie nothing, we’re just friends.”

“Like you and I are just friends?”

“That’s different.”

I’m clutching my pen between tightly wound fingers, knuckles aching, “Is it really, though?”

Mrs. Pierce finally enters the room and I lean back, but Abram refuses to look forward, refuses to take his eyes away from me, “Completely different. And even if it wasn’t, Elise, at least Sophie isn’t afraid of what she wants—she goes after it. She doesn’t try and waste away to nothing just so she doesn’t have to deal with life.” His words are low, vicious and cut through skin. Any sharper and I would be choking back blood.

“Mrs. Pierce,” I raise my hand, “I’m not feeling very well. I’d like to go back to my room now.”

“You haven’t been in class all week Elise, do you think that’s a really good idea?”

“If you’d rather me waste away to nothing on your classroom floor, I’d be more than happy to. Otherwise I’d rather complete whatever assignments in my room.”

She rolls her eyes, releases her short hair from the tight confines of her bun and shakes her head, “Do whatever you want.”

I shove my books into my bag and slide my chair noisily across the floor—I move by Abram, not without bumping him with my hip on the way out.

♡ ♡ ♡

We need to do something about Abram.

Who is this?

Ellie. Can I call you? We need to do something about his situation.

How did you get my phone number? Abram doesn’t even have my phone number.

And what situation are you even talking about?

You do know I’m not his handler, right?

Ask his boyfriend.

It doesn’t matter how I have it. Just that I do.

Wait, why doesn’t Abram have your number? Aren’t you fuck buddies?

That’s crass.

Is it a lie?

I thought not.

So are you going to help me?

Why can’t you ask Brody?

Brody will tell Abram.

So…ask him not to?

Lmfao... Sweetie.

No.

I’m calling you.

( incoming call from ellie. )

♡ ♡ ♡

“You can’t really be that mad?” Jason asks. He’s given up completely on studying and has been nervously eating an entire sleeve of peanut butter cups. “Didn’t you ask Abram to take her out?”

“Yes,” I say, “But that doesn’t mean I wanted him to do it. I thought he would make up some excuse like he has twenty times before.”

Jason scoffs, “He’s probably just you know… pent up and needed to release some aggression.” A large smile spreads across his face at the innuendo and I roll my eyes. Stomach churning at the thought of Abram doing anything with Sophie.

Not because I thought she was disgusting—the exact opposite. Sophie was gorgeous; she had legs for days and was effortlessly pretty. She was smart, in a scary way and was constantly underestimated—it made her resilient, a fighter, and more often than not, a winner.

I wanted to scream at Jason. I wanted to tear away all the pages from the book in my lap, but instead I dug my nails into my thigh, digging in further until the pain in my leg outweighed the pain in my chest and I only stopped when he leaned over and plucked my hand away from my body.

“Jesus Christ, Elise, you’re drawing blood. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. Why would you ask that?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately—you haven’t been eating, is that why you were hospitalized? And anytime someone brings up Abram you go nuts.”

“I go nuts?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I throw the book off my lap and stand up, “Maybe, but it’s what you said.”

Jason’s quick to stand too, walking toward me with outstretched arms. When I don’t move away he wraps them around me, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. You just seem protective over him, that’s all.” His lips press to the crook of my neck and he breathes in deeply, “You care about him a lot?” Jason asks.

He pulls away and it takes everything in me not to cry, so I nod, teeth digging into my cheek. “He’s my best friend, Jason.”

“He’s like a brother to you.”

I don’t know if Jason says that to convince himself or me—but he brings my forehead to his lips and I don’t argue. He doesn’t try to convince me otherwise when I tell him I’m tired and that I’ll see him tomorrow.

When I’m alone, I fall onto my mattress, letting the ragged beat of my heart lull me into a calmer state where the knot in my lungs isn’t quite as big and I can breathe.

A knock at the door stirs me and I’m hoping to find Abram on the other side. I brush back my hair, fix my skirt and try to button up my shirt to maintain some modesty.

“Expecting someone else?” Sophie asks as I open the door.

My shoulders hunch and I use my body to keep her from coming in the room any further, “I’m getting ready for bed, Soph, what do you want?”

She held up three different sized condoms, “Abram and I are going to get coffee and I wanted to know which size is more accurate?”

I clench my jaw, so tight I’m surprised I don’t break teeth. “Abram isn’t like that.”

“We’ll see. I think I’m slowly starting to rip your claws out of him.” She sighs and shoves them back into her pocket, “Remember Elise, you can’t have your cake and throw it up, too.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Cerise has always compared me to dying fruit. When other mothers thought rainbows shined out of their little girls’ asses, Cerise often reminded me that I was pretty on the outside—but when you bit in all you got was a mouthful of rot.

I couldn’t say I blamed her.

The pretty skin and long hair was only a mask and underneath was the true horror. I had spent hours scratching at the surface of my skin, trying to pull the monster out. Under my skin was red and raw and uninviting. Until all the pretty little freckles were dots of blood any tan lines were replaced with welts left by fingernails.

The last thing to go was my hair. I grabbed a pair of sheers from my desk and pulled my hair out of its ponytail.

Ugly little thing, I thought—relief warming my body. I held my hair and watched with jaded eyes as the sheers ripped through the meticulously cared after tresses. Years of expensive, imported shampoo was now sitting in my sink and the weight—literally was lifted.

I don’t stop cutting until my bob, jagged—but not half bad, was below my chin and when I can breathe I drop the scissors.

For a moment I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me—eyes wide and wild, ravenous with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied with food.

Watch this disappearing act, Houdini.

♡ ♡ ♡

The stares aren’t half as bad as I thought they would be. Some quiet whispers but mostly, two-faced compliments left people’s mouth.

I don’t feel so watched until lunch when we’ve all crowded the cafeteria and I’m sitting alone at a table, staring at the food on my tray—willing myself to eat.

Abram is the first to sit down, staring with his mouth agape.

Jason is next.

And finally Sophie who sits beside Abram. She grins, “Did you mean to cut it all short and choppy like that? I mean, really, Elise, there’s a Great Clips a mile away. Abram and I could’ve brought you last night.”

I glare back at her. Stabbing into my chicken and shoving it in my mouth to keep from snapping at her.

“I like it,” Jason announces. “I think it’s sexy, babe.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. Abram hasn’t said anything and I pull my sweater down to cover any angry skin from last night’s breakdown.

Jason asks Abram a question about hockey and Sophie’s conversation turns to her father—who she said is running for Congress in Georgia. I’m doing my best to nod without listening when my phone buzzes on the table.

Jason’s phone pings next, and then Abram’s—soon the entire cafeteria is filled with different text tones. At different times, thumbs click the recording delivered by text and moaning stuns everyone silent.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

A very distinct, very Abram’s voice says and all of our eyes are cast on him.

The moaning that follows makes me wish I had successfully crawled out of my skin the night prior. I would know that second voice anywhere, it’s mine.

I look up at Abram who stares back at me in horror, face red. But when the recording ends, he’s rewarded with a few slaps on the back from guys and girls talking behind their hands, eyeing him like a piece of meat.

“Dude!” Jason shouts, “Who was that? She sounded so familiar.”

Abram and I are still staring at each other and my hand was holding the plastic fork so tight it snapped.