#and became a hit man and watched as his sanity crumbled

[beginnerblueglass]

It’s late but Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge is actually the slasher/action/psychological thriller sequel to Romeo + Juliet (1996).

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

Tranquille Moments In Chaos (1)

The start of several moments that fill in the gaps of developing a friendship, then relationship, with Hancock.

Hancock x reader/sole.

Find it on ao3 as well!

(1853 words)

“Come with me.”

You had begun to question your sanity before the words fully escaped your lips. You leaned against the wall of the State House in Hancock’s disorganized bedroom, attempting your best not to look like a complete mess inside.

You saw how his blackened, clouded eyes looked you up and down. It was casual, and it reminded you of how the “cool kids” - you deemed them - would look through your flimsy persona back in high school. His dry and malformed lips stretched into a grin, and you could see amusement play across his face.

Hancock let out a short, breathy chuckle, before reaching into his back pocket of his trousers for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. “So lemme get this straight,” he started as if you were merely having a casual conversation. He pulled out his lighter from his other pocket, leaving you hanging off his words, until he lit up the cigarette and took the first drag.

“This is your… what, second week? Roamin’ around the Commonwealth like a stray dog?” That amused look slowly turned into a scrutinizing smirk. “Fahrenheit told me all about how you turned on Bobby. Can’t even hold a gun without the recoil throwin’ your arms all over - and you wanna run with me?”

The heat of embarrassment crept up to your face. True, you still weren’t terribly handy with a gun, despite your ex-spouse having military experience, but you made plenty sure they kept that sort of violence outside the house, what with the arrival of your newborn. Oh, how you would come to regret that rule.

But if there was one thing you were good at, that you honed over your college years, was how to fake confidence. You steeled yourself and pushed off the wall, standing your not-so-tall stance against Hancock. Sure, your cheeks were still very red, but you fronted a coy smile and a raised brow.

“I dunno, Hancock. You said it yourself - you’re soft. I may have been out here for a few weeks, but you’ve been lounging around longer than I’ve been surviving. Are you sure you can run with me?”

You stared into his dark eyes, appearing so sure of yourself. You began to falter inside, however, when his playfully degrading look turned to one that was serious. He took another painfully slow drag, starring you down all the while, then blew a puff of smoke into your face. You suppressed your cough, but the tears from the stinging smoke escaped.

Hancock chuckled darkly. “I can admire a babe willing to stand up to the man. Alright, hot stuff. I’ll tag along and maybe give you a few pointers.” He winked at you then, deciding he was done with his half-burnt cigarette, tossed it down and squished it out with the heel of his boot.

“First I gotta address the people; give ‘em a big mayoral speech. Don’t wait up.” He pressed the tip of his tricorn hat down, as a way to physically show he was switching over to his “business side”, and disappeared through the white door next to the wall you had leaned next to.

You released a sigh. There was no way you could keep up that air of confidence for long, especially around the man who radiates pure confidence. Pair that up with his natural ability to remain cool and keep it all from going to his head, and you looked like a nervous teenager on the first day of work next to him.

You heard the guards that stood outside the door to his bedroom snicker. You didn’t blame them. There was one thing that made you feel a little better about devolving into a mental puddle around Hancock. Irma had told you all about how he used to be a major hit with the ladies, and sometimes the gentlemen, and it wasn’t unusual when a person or two would fall at his feet. Of course, this was all before he turned into a ghoul, and yet…

Something tells you his ghoulification only amplified his charm.

-

He made good on his promise, even if it was made in jest. In your days wandering with this alluring ghoul at your back, he had taught you how to properly hold your 10 mm gun, and when you felt ready for rifles, he taught you how hard to press the stock against your shoulder and how to safely handle them. Although seeming to be intimately familiar with most common place guns, he himself preferred the ol’ reliable shotgun.

You’ve also come to be acquainted with his way of life and his morals. He lived up to his self-proclaimed title of “freedom fighter” with his rebel-rousing, tough guy nature who kept an eye out for the little man. He tried telling you after he shanked Finn to death, but you didn’t quite believe it then. A mayor, fronting as a freedom fighter? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until one dark day with a downpour to rival a waterfall that would change your mind.

After one particularly bad firefight, you both found shelter in a half-dilapidated, vacant home. You had a friend in this neighborhood many years ago, although he moved away to another town to attend high school.

You sat on a dust covered cushion near a fairly in-tact windowsill, watching languidly as the rain fell heavy. One leg was tucked under you, while you stretched the other so that Hancock could remove the bullet deeply embedded in your thigh. You didn’t feel much of his makeshift surgery, what with the drug concoction he fed you. You were more entranced by the rainfall, and how the droplets pattered on the crumbling road not far from the house. The only light you had to serve was the half burned candles from the last squatter at the residence; five waxy candles that illuminated a warm, flickering orange against the cold darkness of the rest of the house.

“Hancock?” You quietly called for him, never moving your stare from the outside world. He hummed in response.

“Did you-“ you paused yourself. Your drug-filled mind struggled to figure out how to word your question. “Were you… Did you grow up here, before the war?”

Although the pain was completely numbed, you did feel an intense pressure from his work. You felt that pressure stop momentarily, before starting again.

You heard Hancock let out a scoff. It didn’t sound rude, but baffled. “What makes you think I’m one of those pre-war ghouls?”

“You’re a ghoul.”

Hancock laughed quietly. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m in my thirties?”

“Thirties?” You lulled your head, rolling lazily on your shoulders to face Hancock. Your vision was blurred by the pain killers, but still you could see the deep ravines in his skin. His eyes appeared exceptionally black, and where his nose rotted off long ago appeared darker. At the sight of what would have frightened you 200 some years ago, you smiled. “You look amazing for your thirties.”

“You should’a seen me before.” He looked up to wink at you, before reaching for a roll of bandages he kept hidden away in his coat pocket. “Drugs are a hell of a… drug.”

“Drugs can make you a ghoul?”

“Not just any drugs. This stuff,” he blew air from between his recessed lips as his mind dove back into his memories. “they didn’t even have a name for this stuff. Picture it - a vial of this scary glowing liquid that promised to give you a high that was outta this world. And get this, there was only one more hit of it left. You know what I did, doll?”

There was something so charming, so endearing, about the way he spoke. It was old school, but his rumbling voice, no doubt caused by their decay via radiation, kept you enraptured. Your smile grew more silly and enamoured. “What did you do, Hancock?”

“I shot it up.” He began to wrap the bandages around your thigh. “Lemme tell you, there’s nothing else in this whole damn world that’ll make you see - no, feel - the things I did. Everything else pales in comparison.” He tied them off with a yank, and gave your leg a light pat before continuing his story. “‘Course, it came with a price. That price is this gorgeous mug you see before you.”

You giggled at his display of gesturing to himself and giving you an exaggerated smoulder. He shifted over to the cushion that was beside the one you sat on and took his place beside you. You came to an agreement to wait, guns ready, for the rain to pass before moving on. Hancock leaned his back against the wall from where he sat, and in your drugged-up haze, you slumped over against him.

“Good Neighbour didn’t mind a ghoul for a mayor?” You asked, unaware of how your line of questioning came across. Still, Hancock answered freely.

“I wasn’t a ghoul yet.”

“How did you become mayor?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

Seeing no harm in telling you, Hancock regaled you in the bigotry of Diamond City, and the reign of terror Vic held over Good Neighbour. He told you, laughing through it as he explained how the red coat of John Hancock could speak to him, and with the courage of drugs and a take-no-bullshit attitude on his side, he and a group of fed up people stormed the town hall. He went into gruesome detail of gunning down Vic’s men, and how they tied a noose around Vic’s neck and hung him over the same balcony Hancock would give his speeches. It was then, with unanimous decision, that John Hancock became mayor of Good Neighbour. It stayed a safe haven for everyone Diamond City rejected, and the rest was history.

It was then, as you stared up at Hancock with a mixed look of disbelief and admiration, that you truly believed he was, and is, a freedom fighter.

“And you traded a life of gunning bad people down for office work?” You nudged him playfully.

“Hey, I can do both, can’t I? Good Neighbour’s full of good people. They can fend for themselves while their fearless mayor cuts his teeth on some raiders.”

You attempted to nod in agreement, but found your head heavy and comfortable against his shoulder. You let out a yawn, the last thing you remembered, before the haziness you felt finally took over your senses and dragged you to sleep.

Hancock glanced your way and lightly chuckled at your slumbering form. He gently moved your wrist in your lap to peek at the time on your Pip-Boy. It was getting well into the evening, but still it was early enough that raiders and gangsters didn’t roam quite yet.

He reached up to tip his hat down over his eyes and slouched against the wall. There was a long night ahead of you both, and if there ever was a time to nap, a dark rainy evening was certainly it.

“Sweet dreams, vault dweller.”

[byeoltoyuki]

Make It Right ⇾ JHS

↳Pairing : You x Hoseok

Genre : Fluff / Angst if you squint / fake dating if you squint

Words: +17k

Warnings : Oral (f), tying

Summary: Sometimes all you need is some pretending.

A/N: Surprise! I'm not dead (yet). I know I have my Jimin's story to work on, but sometimes my brain refuses to cooperate with me fml.

One day i swear i'll be on time. Happy Birthday again babe! @hopikoya

*

Going to a club one week before your exams was probably the worst idea ever. You knew it. Your boyfriend apparently knew it too but still insisted to go which resulted in you going too because come on, you didn’t want to be a party pooper (his words, not yours). You loathed the idea; you weren’t particularly fond of clubs to begin with, half of the time you went for the sake of your boyfriend and half of the time you would sip on your drink at the bar and watch him have fun with his friends, ignoring your existence while you were bored to death.

Just like tonight. Except tonight, there was something in the air, something bad and ominous. Your guts were telling you to go back home, forget about your boyfriend, have fun by yourself instead of staying at the club at two in the morning where half of the crowd was drunk if not completely wasted.

But did you listen to the little voice in your head? Of course not.

From your favorite (not so much) spot at the club, you sipped your second mojito while watching your boyfriend, Hyeonwu, having fun. From the way he was moving, you were certain he had drunk more than he could handle - you sighed at that, knowing beforehand that the night would be very long. You should have stayed home.

But you didn’t and for what? For a relationship that was doomed from the very beginning. Hyeonwu and you were different, too different even. He was outgoing, popular, arrogant from time to time (it stung to admit it to yourself).

Everything you weren’t.

You didn’t like clubbing, you didn’t like being the center of attention but because you liked him, because he chose you, you accepted to sacrifice everything you were for him.

Tonight was one of those nights, your heart was aching, your mind was restless and you couldn’t help but think that this relationship had to stop before you would get hurt. More than you already were.

Ironically enough, Hyeonwu was the one to give you a good reason for finally snapping from your role of the perfect, innocent and docile girlfriend. Instead of asking you to dance with him (you weren’t even sure he remembered he came at the club with you), he found himself another girl to dance with, a girl willing to be what you couldn’t: daring, provocative and would say yes to anything.

You would have accepted to put up with his behavior if only his hands didn’t roam around her body the way it would with you. If he didn’t start kissing her neck as if he wasn’t taken, as if you weren’t in this club too.

You couldn’t do it.

"Excuse me," You called for the bartender. "Can I have a glass of water please?"

He eyed you, annoyed with your request but pushed the glass of water towards you nevertheless.

You didn’t thank him for that considering how rude he was to you anyway, instead you started walking towards them while you still had the courage, while your blood was still boiling and you felt like punching him from stomping your heart.

Once you were close enough, you emptied your glass right at Hyeonwu, he was the one you were aiming, the one who had angered you but the girl got splashed anyway too. They both jumped, the girl shrieking loudly (even with the loud music you heard her) while Hyeonwu groaned and checked his clothes.

"The fuck." He was mad, even in his drunken state he was mad and his eyes found yours quite soon.

A nice boyfriend would have apologized right away; would have felt bad about what he did but Hyeonwu? No. The sight of you only made him angrier.

"What do you think you’re doing, woman?" He growled at you and took a dangerous step towards you.

"Me?" You scoffed at his words. And here you became the villain when really, you were the victim.

And then he took another dangerous step that should have scared you if you weren’t so angry yourself. "Yes, you, Y/N."

"Don’t you dare blaming me, babe." You swore to yourself it would be the only time you would accept to make a scene while being surrounded by strangers. The only time you would want to be the center of attention, because you wanted him to feel bad, to feel humiliated for what he had done.

He didn’t of course.

"Oh please. Always ruining the fun for others. Aren’t you tired?" He scoffed in return.

"Ruining the fun?" You repeated to yourself, words sounding foreign to you. How were you ruining the fun when he was being unfaithful? Certainly your relationship wasn’t what it used to be but still. How could he? By the time you wanted to snap back at him, he was back by the other girl’s side, checking on her.

"You got to be kidding me."

"Hyeonwu." The girl warned him about you getting dangerously closer to them.

In that moment, maybe you had underestimated Hyeonwu’s state. Maybe you had also underestimated your own state. And maybe, finally, you had completely misjudged the person who you used to date. The words died on your tongue as Hyeonwu raised his hand - you shut your eyes tightly, ready for the slap, for the wakeup call.

But it never came.

Surprised, heart roaring in your ears, you opened your eyes but not quite ready to see what was right before your eyes. Someone, in this mess, chose to stand up for you. Before Hyeonwu’s hand could reach your face, a man interfered. A man you couldn’t see except for his back, for his dark brown hair.

Your first thought was that you couldn’t believe Hyeonwu would go as far as try to hit you. Your second thought was about the crazy stranger who, without being asked, chose to stand up for you. It was dumb and dangerous and so not his business but for a short moment it made you feel safe.

“Who the hell are you?” Hyeonwu yanked his arm free from the stranger’s grip, annoyed and more than willing to fight.

But the stranger didn’t seem fazed or impressed despite all the muscles and for Hyeonwu being taller than him. “What kind of man are you? You were about to hit a woman, I couldn’t possibly stand aside and watch it.”

Despite your anger, despite your pain, his voice stirred something inside you; it was strangely familiar and brought a fuzzy memory to your mind. But it couldn’t be, you told yourself. There was no way, so you chose to shove back the memory and concentrate on your present.

“How chivalrous of you but I suggest you to mind your damn business instead of mingling with mine.” Hyeonwu took a step towards him but was quickly held back by the other girl who looked nervously at the two man. At least she didn’t want it to get messier.

“Please don’t.” She begged him.

You shook your head, whispering a ‘no’ and a ‘it can’t be’ as your eyes darted back and forth between Hyeonwu and the girl. And here you thought Hyeonwu was too drunk, thought he had picked a random girl. He didn’t. He so obviously didn’t but somehow, all this time you managed not to see what was right under your nose. Your anger vanished as fast as it came; defeated you had no more strength left to fight Hyeonwu, no more strength left to make him understand how cruel he was to you when all you ever did was try to please him.

Home. You wanted to go home. Except and sadly for you, you lived with him.

“Fine.” You heard Hyeonwu, “Whatever.”

He left. Without a word, without a single glance, making it look like you didn’t exist. You swallowed your tears, your pain, refusing to crumble in a damn club.

Once sure Hyeonwu wouldn’t try to go back on his word, your savior turned to look at you. If you weren’t feeling so down, so empty, you would have realized sooner that the stranger was more familiar than you thought. If you weren’t worrying about your future, you would have noticed how he opened his mouth to speak – you chose the same moment to turn your back and leave. You needed to escape for the sake of your sanity. Or what was left of it.

*

In your misery, you happened to be quite lucky. When the next day you got back to your shared flat, Hyeonwu was nowhere to be seen and for that you were thankful. You didn’t know whenever it was intentional on his behalf or if he had simply stayed somewhere else, either way it gave you enough time to gather all your most important belongings and leave this place.

It hurt. Your heart, your pride, but you told yourself it was for the best.

Mina welcomed you at her tiny place with opened arms. She didn’t ask for details, giving you time to adjust and sort your thoughts; she would listen when you needed it. She always did.

Mina’s flat was small but cozy, filled with plants of all sorts, with fluffy blankets on wooden chairs, on the couch, with candles all around the place. It was the dream of any witches in your opinion, but it felt like home and just like her.

As you came back with your suitcase, you were greeted with a soft meow, followed by Mina’s fluffy black and white cat that Mina chose to call Pie because she kept saying cutie pie (you had rolled your eyes at that).

“Hello there.” You kneeled to Pie’s level and rubbed its head.

“There you are!” Mina came out of the kitchen, wearing a cute pink apron. She beamed at you and showed you the way. “I freed three shelves for you.”

It was sweet and you were grateful to have such a good friend but you didn’t intend to stay. Not for long at least. Hopefully.

“I know that look.” She interrupted your trail of thoughts. “You don’t bother me, don’t worry. Take your time.”

You smiled.

*

By some odds, your big brother was back in the country which was a good thing because you hadn’t seen him for whole two years and living with him could be nice. Back when you used to live together, you were partners in crime, driving your parents crazy. So of course, when you received one morning his message telling he was back, you jumped on the opportunity and asked to meet him.

When you got to the café, it took you less than two seconds to spot your brother. How could you not when few females were openly flirting with him. That brought back some goods memories; you smiled and shook your head in feign despair. Some things just never change.

“I see your popularity is still no joke despite you being an old man now.”

Your voice made him forget all about the women around him. He jumped from his chair, too excited and bounced on you (attracting even more attention on both of you). You laughed at his eagerness as his arms circled tightly your waist – Jimin lifted you from the floor and spun you around laughing along with you.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Jimin put you back on the floor but his arms stayed around you. He was beaming, so happy, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. “Look at you.” His hand found your cheek, fingers stroking gently your skin which brought back flashes of memories of your younger days. “Not a kid anymore, are you?”

Your brother was being dramatic. “Oh come on. I didn’t change that much!” But maybe you did, in a way.

Jimin led you to a chair before taking place before you. “You did.”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

“That too.” He smiled sheepishly at you. “And for your information, I’m not old.”

Such a familiar and warm smile – you had missed him a lot.

For a moment, you forgot all about why you were so eager to see him. For a moment, it was just you and your brother and you wanted to catch up with him. “How was it?” Your eyes shone brightly, curious and excited to hear his stories. “How was England?”

“Rainy. Cold.” He chuckled at that. Jimin put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “But it was interesting. I will definitely go back there.”

“And leave us again!”

“Oh you missed me that much, pumpkin?”

“Of course I did! Nobody annoys me as much as you do.”

“Not even your boyfriend? What was his name again? Hyeo-, I don’t remember.” Another time you would have rolled your eyes at him because Jimin did remember Hyeonwu’s name, he just didn’t like him that much. But then again, he never liked your boyfriends. This time, however, you didn’t roll your eyes, you didn’t sigh in despair. No, you flinched and clenched your fists under the table.

Jimin noticed the change in your mood instantly. He frowned, taken aback. “What is it, Y/N?” Jimin asked despite having an idea of what had happened while he was away. “Do I need to punch someone?”

For a short moment, you allowed yourself to smile as you imagined your adorable but idiot of brother trying to fight with Hyeonwu who was much taller and stronger than him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But it felt nice knowing that your brother still had your back.

“Oh but I’m very serious. “

This time you rolled your eyes. “You’re just looking for a fight.”

Jimin pointed at himself in fake disbelief. “Never!”

But you knew better. “I need a place to live.”

At first Jimin seemed confused and you quickly realized your mistake. Nobody, including your parents, were aware that you chose to live with your, well now ex-boyfriend for the past year. You gulped as you saw Jimin’s jaw twitch, eyes darkening with every passing seconds. To say that your big brother was not delighted would be the understatement of the century. But for once, instead of cowering in fear (because your brother could turn from a ball of fluff to a very angry and scary man), you huffed and chose to ignore his behavior. “Oh don’t judge me, will you? I already have enough on my plate.”

Jimin opened his mouth (probably to say something mean) but close it right away. He closed his eyes, counted to ten and then looked at you again. “Where are you staying now?”

“With Mina.”

Jimin hummed in response. “Good, good. I guess you want to move in with me then?”

He, of course, said yes.

*

Living with Jimin was nothing like you thought it would be. You expected him to set rules for you to make sure you wouldn’t disturb his life too much with your presence. You expected not to see much of him because your big brother was a busy man (and you were convinced it wasn’t only because of work). But none of that happened. No, living with Jimin felt like being back at home, minus parents’ presence of course.

Jimin did everything in his power to make you feel at ease. He let you redecorate the spare room, the kitchen, the living room, not caring whether the outcome would suit his taste or not as long as it meant you felt at home.

You had the best brother in the world.

"Hey pumpkin," Jimin called for you from his room, he was getting ready. "My friends are coming over. I hope you don’t mind."

You scoffed as you leaned against the door, rolling your eyes at him. No, really, why would he think it would bother you when he was being so nice. "And if it bothers me, are you going to take your little boys’ night to another place?"

Jimin froze for a short moment, pondering on your question. You worried for a minute that he took you seriously but he grinned and you relaxed. "I’d have to get rid of you actually. Maybe I’d lock you in your room."

"You don’t have a key."

"I actually do."

Now you were worried which didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin because he laughed, hard.

"I would have found a solution." Jimin finally said and got closer to you. He put his hands on your shoulders and gave it a squeeze. "This is your place too."

You shook your head in half disbelief, refusing to show him how his words made your heart swell with love and pride to have Jimin for your brother. "Ts, so annoying." You smiled nevertheless. "So, who’s coming?"

Jimin’s grin only widened. "You probably remember some of them! We’ve been friends since high school."

And remember them you did.

*

To say that you were mortified at the fact that the stranger from the other night stood in the middle of the living room, talking and smiling brightly at your brother, would be an understatement. Your heart leapt in your throat as one more realization finally dawned on you.

This man. This very handsome, with bright smile man, was no stranger at all. No, this man was no other than Jung Hoseok, one of Jimin’s best friend. But Hoseok wasn’t only Jimin’s friend. No, you remembered all too well how you had felt for years about him.

He was your crush. Your personal sunshine who loved teasing you whenever you were in the room. How you managed to not recognize him that night, you didn’t know and you tried not to think much about it either. For the sake of your broken heart.

The Hoseok from your memory and the Hoseok standing now, despite being the same person, felt extremely different. He was still of course as handsome, as shining but despite his huge smile, despite his laugh, there was something dark about him and you couldn’t tell whether it was a good or a bad thing.

Hoseok’s eyes found yours; something flashed through his eyes, maybe he recognized you as just Jimin’s sister or maybe he recognized you from that night, either way, your treacherous heart missed a beat and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

Jimin noticed his attention had shifted. One look at you and his eyes shined brighter than ever. "Guys! I think you all remember my cute little sister, Y/N?" Then he double checked you, "Though she’s not little anymore."

"I’m still cute though." You cut him before he could make fun of you. To that Jimin only chuckled.

"Y/N!"

Too stunned with Hoseok, you barely noticed that two other men were in the room and you happened to remember them too. Namjoon and Taehyung - you waved shyly at them.

It was strange to meet them again after such a long time. Despite being curious about them, about what they had become, your eyes were once again on Hoseok and to your utter surprise he was still watching you with a knowing smile. God. You came to realization that you had to avoid him and avoid being alone in the room with him, too scared of what could happen.

*

Through the night, you had found out many useful and not so useful information such as your brother was still a complete dork whenever he was surrounded by his friends, it was as if he hadn’t aged a day (which made you smile fondly at him and joke around). Then, you found that Namjoon became a scientist - not a surprise. The Namjoon you remembered always carried a bag with books too complicated to understand for average people (or ‘for poor mortals like us’ was what Jimin used to say).

Taehyung, and probably to his parents’ dismay, chose the life of an artist; he became a photographer and travelled the world. That didn’t surprise you that much either. You expected him to become a model, nobody could ignore a face like his, but apparently Taehyung enjoyed being the one to take photos.

"Aren’t you going to ask me what I became?" Hoseok asked from his chair, hand on his heart, he feigned being incredibly offended and hurt (apparently, he didn’t like being ignored, especially by you).

You chewed on your lip, weighting the risks; if you snapped at him, Jimin would know you had met Hoseok somewhere and you didn’t feel like explaining yourself but if you kept ignoring him - it would be risky too. So you put on a big, fake smile on your face and looked at him. "What about you, Hobi?"

A glint of something dark and dangerous lit in his eyes, only few seconds and it was gone. But you saw it. You shivered but refused to show any of it. There was no way you could still be crushing on him, you told yourself. But apparently your brain and your body didn’t quite agree on that.

Hoseok chuckled. "I’m delighted to hear my nickname. Nobody had called me ‘Hobi’ for a while."

Jimin cleared his throat but before he could say anything else, Taehyung stepped in. "I call you Hobi every day though."

Ha!

Hoseok shot Taehyung’s a nasty gaze that would have sent any normal person cowering in fear but Taehyung only blew a kiss before winking at you. Well, that was something.

Defeated, Hoseok ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, that you do. But you’re not a fine lady, Taehyung." Then he looked at him, up and down, "Unless you’re hiding something from us?"

Taehyung eyed him for a moment. "Do you want to see my dick to be sure I’m a man?"

That made all of them relax and laugh - you included.

"So?" You looked at Hoseok, smiling more sincerely at him. "What do you do, Hobi?"

He looked surprised but quickly regained his composure and smiled back. "I actually work with Jimin."

"Poor souls." Was your only comment which made Jimin slap your arm.

*

"You look better." Hoseok’s voice startled you and the cup slipped from your hands but fortunately for you he was fast to catch it before it could shatter. You cursed under your breath; cursing both Hoseok for taking you by surprise and yourself for being so jumpy because of him. "Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you."

You straightened your back with a huff; Hoseok looked too smug for your liking. "The only thing that scares me is your eyes." Which was half true. His eyes did something to you that you didn’t quite like.

"What about them?" But you refused to answer that; there was no way Hoseok wasn’t aware of what he was doing and you refused to play his little game. Which made you wonder, was he always like this?

"What about them, Y/N?" He repeated.

Hoseok took a step towards you and you step back and repeated till your back hit the table and you found yourself trapped between Hoseok and the table. He was playing a dangerous game and you shouldn’t let him but there was something so alluring - you couldn’t resist.

He had his arms at each side of you, hovering over you. This was definitely not the Hoseok you were used to.

You licked your lips nervously, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his very inviting lips. You had to be mad to even contemplate the idea of kissing him, it would be so easy. "When did you become so daring?"

Hoseok actually chuckled at that. "I always was. I just didn’t want to scare you back then; you were such a cute little girl."

"You’re just seven years older, I wasn’t a little girl back then." You were but the stubborn part of you refused to let him win and apparently Hoseok realized it too as he laughed.

"The last time I saw you, you were eighteen. Was it at your birthday party?" He got a hold on a strand of your hair, twisting it, curling around his finger, he was lost in his memories - he smiled and looked straight into your eyes. "Jimin got mad at you because you wore an incredibly revealing electric blue dress."

Your breath hitched in your throat. How could Hoseok remember something that had happened five years ago? Something you would have forgotten if not for Jimin’s scolding.

"Can’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and brought you back to your room to change." He brought the strand closer to his lips and you swore your heart missed a beat.

Fuck. You were still crushing on him.

"Now, since I’m not your brother, I can tell you that I enjoyed the view." Then, he leaned closer till his warm breath reached your ear. "And I wished I could do more than just watching from afar."

Shit.

But that was it. No matter how much Hoseok wanted to toy with you, there were limits (or more exactly, there was a Jimin) - he took a step back. "Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it; you look just as easy to tease as back then."

That was your wake up call. You jolted from your place and put as much space as you could between Hoseok and you. You looked at him with mixed feelings. A part of you enjoyed hearing those words, those confessions from him, on the other hand his behavior made your blood boil with anger. How dared he?

You stormed out of the room, deciding that there was no way you could deal with this Hoseok tonight. Or any other night.

Later, however, you found a tiny piece of paper along with a phone number and instead of throwing it in the bin, you hid it safely in your sketchbook.

*

"I’m glad to see you’re not doing your puppy eyes to Hoseok anymore." Jimin plumped on the bed beside you, disturbing your peaceful drawing moment. The mere mention of Hoseok made you tighten your grip on your pencil and by some miracle it didn’t break under your strength.

Jimin noticed it and cocked a brow at you. "Interesting." He nudged your leg with his feet to get your attention - you refused to acknowledge his presence if he wanted to talk about this annoying friend of his. "You used to follow me everywhere as long as Hoseok was around."

No, you wanted to protest but then, that would be a lie. You did follow Jimin as much as you could only to be able to see Hoseok (even if half of the time you couldn’t muster the courage to talk to him which only amused both of your brother and Hoseok).

"Back then I thought it was cute. Annoying too, but I couldn’t even get mad with you."

"Is it heading somewhere or?" You finally looked at him and you regretted it instantly. Jimin had a smirk plastered on his face which was bad omen for you. "Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Get out."

"Oh come on, pumpkin!" He nudged you again. "I won’t talk about embarrassing memories." He promised which was probably not his initial plan. "However, what was this all about with Hoseok earlier?"

Jimin was too observant, you used to know it but somehow it had escaped your mind.

You sighed in defeat, closed your sketchbook. "Nothing." That didn’t sound as convincing as you expected - you cleared your voice, awkwardly. "Maybe I was embarrassed with how I used to be around him."

"Hm." Jimin didn’t sound convinced but shrugged, choosing for once that he could live with it. "Fine." He jumped from your bed, "But just so you know, I don’t believe you."

You simply stuck your tongue out and let him leave.

Yes, it was good living with Jimin.

*

Mina chocked on her Frappuccino, not believing your words. “You’re kidding, right?” But seeing that you kept your face straight, Mina understood that it was not some kind of joke. “You’re not kidding.” She wiped her mouth with a tissue and then really looked at you. “Well shit.”

You snorted. ‘Well shit’ was almost your initial reaction too. Except it had changed. A little. Or not. The moment Hoseok had showed his true colors, you forgot all about your crush and just wanted to smash his pretty little head. That was a lie. You didn’t want to smash his head, you wanted something else but refused to admit it to yourself.

“Is it what people call fate?” Mina wondered out loud, ready to elaborate her theories (to your biggest dismay). “Not only your savior was, is a hot mess-“

“I never said he was hot! I only said I used to crush on him when I was younger.” You regretted your outburst the moment it left your mouth as Mina’s wicked grin only widened.

“Potato, potato.” Mina wiggled her finger at you. “And this same hot stranger is actually your brother’s best friend and the guy you used to crush on. This is fate.”

“This is bullshit.” You snapped back but Mina didn’t seem fazed with your attempt to protest and prove her wrong. Maybe you could try harder but sadly, you knew she was a lost cause and because you did believe it was a rather nice coincidence.

The mere thought of Hoseok made your blood roar in your ears as images from the last time with him flashed through your mind. It had been days and there must be something wrong with you because no matter how hard you tried you would think about him, about how close he got to you when you were trapped between his body and the table.

“What are you going to do about him?” Mina resumed sipping on her drink but she was watching you, gawking at you.

“Nothing.” What could you possibly do? Even if he was Jimin’s friend (which was already a big deal) and even if Hoseok seemed inclined to flirt shamelessly with you, you didn’t know him well enough and you were scared of who he was. Scared but intrigued. And maybe tempted.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should.”

“Is it about Hyeonwu? It’s over. You need to move on.” And because Mina knew all too well, she raised her hand to stop you from snapping at her. “I know you loved him. And I’m not telling you to pursue that hotmess or even fall for him. I’m just saying that a little distraction can be very helpful. And from what you’re telling me, this dude seems to be into this kind of distraction.”

You thought about this option for a moment, slumping further in your seat. Mina was right, it could be helpful but it didn’t change the fact that Hoseok was Jimin’s best friend; it was too dangerous to consider. You shook your head in defeat but before you could share your mind, two men stepped inside the café.

Two all too familiar men.

Two incredibly annoying men too.

You bit on your lips hard before letting a groan out. “You got to be kidding me.”

Mina followed your gaze, curious at your sudden change of behavior – what she saw did not disappoint her. She easily recognized one of the two men; she had seen some old pictures of you and Jimin and she must admit that you both looked quite alike. The second man, however, she did not recognize but judging from your reaction she had a little guess.

“The blond one is your brother I suppose?” You nodded, half hearing her, your eyes were on them. “And the other one is…?”

“Hoseok.” You regretted whispering his name. It was as if, despite the chattering around you, despite the music, he still heard you – his eyes were on you. Fuck.

But maybe for once you were lucky. Hoseok only winked at you (which didn’t go unnoticed by Mina) and turned back to Jimin who was, surprisingly, oblivious to the little exchange.

Mina whistled before averting her eyes. "I must say, it’s one thing to see your brother in photos and find him cute - but damn girl, he’s hot as hell. Can I have his number?"

"Fuck off."

She laughed.

*

Another day, another party and another regret. Clearly, last time should have been enough for you for many reasons but when Mina begged you to go with her, how exactly were you supposed to say no? She promised to not stay long which you believed her; Mina at least had control over time she spent dancing and drinking and she would never leave you alone unless you asked her to. It was why you said yes.

The regret came once you were inside.

It was a birthday party of one of a guy from your class whose name you had already forgotten but he sure as hell was famous considering how crowded and noisy it was.

"Oh it’s going to be so much fun!" Mina almost squealed beside you. She flipped her hair and winked playfully at you. "Let’s grab a drink babe."

You had to admit that despite the crowd, despite the place being noisy, the music was good and you couldn’t possibly say no to free snacks (and drinks) and maybe Mina’s enthusiasm was slowly rubbing on you as you found yourself smiling.

That was until a very familiar voice echoed from somewhere near you. Mina froze on the spot, two drinks in her hand - so did you. Hyeonwu was at the party which you should have expected. He was a social butterfly, of course he would go to a big birthday party.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and counted till ten. Mina got to your side and handed you the drink (that was incredibly needed).

"Is killing still forbidden in this country?" Mina joked though she did look like she was about to murder someone in cold blood.

"Sadly." You patted her back. There was little you could do in this situation; you could be a winner and simply ignore the tightness in your chest, enjoy the night; or you could be a looser by going home and crying the whole night. You refused to give up so easily.

Sadly for you, it wasn’t over.

"What about Y/N?" You heard someone ask about you - this time you felt your heart leaping in your throat. Why did people still need to talk about you, about your relationship? You considered it rude.

"What about her?" Hyeonwu asked sounding particularly disinterested.

"Since I don’t see her with you, I guess the rumors are true - you broke up."

"Not like she mattered anyway."

Maybe you were going to kill him after all before Mina could even lay her hands on him.

"I’m going to kill him." She growled dangerously beside you.

"Don’t. I really don’t want to visit you in jell and bring you oranges."

"I would rather you bring me chocolate."

You both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Hyeonwu was an ass and he could go to hell; you would not let yourself be weak, you would not let yourself shed any more tear. No.

"I think I need something stronger."

It seemed like a good idea at the moment.

You learnt much much later that it was, in fact, a very bad idea.

Awful idea.

Especially when the last thing you remembered was Mina telling you to slow down on alcohol.

*

God.

You should quit drinking, not like it was a habit of yours but surely you had outdone yourself considering how your head felt; heavy, splitting. In fact, you felt like you were dying.

Your whole body ached, moving in the bed was pure torture.

Bed.

You jolted in the bed and regretted it instantly as the room spun around you and you felt a wave of nausea. You clamped your hand over your mouth; god, you were a mess.

You pushed back the blanket covering your body only to see that you weren’t naked but you weren’t wearing your own clothes either which definitely wasn’t much better. No, you wore a black shirt that was way too big for you, reaching your mid thighs.

Another wave of nausea.

To say that despite you being hungover you panicked at the idea of being somewhere you didn’t know with someone you didn’t know would be an understatement. You took a deep breath, calming your crazy heart and trying to keep your wish to empty your stomach at bay. You forced yourself to replay the party in your head.

The music, the people you had met, Mina, even Hyeonwu and his words you could remember. But you leaving with someone? That was a big mystery. No matter how hard you tried to remember, to even catch a glimpse of a memory - it didn’t work. There was nothing you could do except being, for once, a big girl and go face the unknown in hope that whoever’s place it was, was a nice person.

But the reality that welcomed you once you stepped out of the safety of the room was so much better.

Or worse.

Really, it was all about perspective.

Hoseok was preparing a breakfast for both of you, music playing and he sang along; you thought he was unaware of your presence. Oh how wrong you were. "Sit."

I’m going to be sick. It was one thing believing you ended up so drunk you would leave with a stranger or maybe a fellow student of your college but it was a whole new level of panic to find yourself in Hoseok’s shirt and in his kitchen. ‘How’ and ‘why’ were on the tip of your tongue but Hoseok turned around, hands on his hips he looked like an angry parent instead of - your crush.

Helplessly you followed his order.

"Good girl." Was the only thing he said and then, he resumed his preparation.

How confusing. He didn’t try to mock you or to explain, it was as if all of it was perfectly normal. As if you were friends. As if you hadn’t done something stupid. God, you hoped, no, you prayed you hadn’t done something stupid.

You cleared your throat, quite awkwardly. "How bad was it?" A part of you was scared to know, but you had to know and start somewhere.

Hoseok ignored your question.

It bothered you to no end that he chose to keep his mouth shut when he could find so many reasons to either scold you or mock you. He did none of that. He busied himself with the breakfast and only when pancakes, Nutella, orange juice and coffee was on the table, he finally sat across from you.

“Eat.”

Your jaw clenched. “Are you going to order me around or are you going to answer my questions?”

Hoseok sighed. He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “I don’t think you’re ready for answers to be honest, Y/N.”

It did something to you the way he said your name. It shouldn’t, really, but it did. You gulped, staring nervously back at him – he looked too damn smug (and handsome with all the sun on his face). “It’s that bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“Shit.” You slammed your head on the table, startling Hoseok with your sudden gesture; he was ready to jump from his place and to get to you but then you turned your face to look at him, miserable and ready to curse yourself and your life.

Hoseok chuckled and shook his head in defeat. Cooking had eased his mind and calmed his nerves. But seeing you genuinely upset with yourself was enough to unsettle him and make his anger vanish. “You were a mess.”

You blinked at his words; finally he was willing to make you remember (and if not, explain) what happened. “How bad?”

“Well. According to your friend you got into a fight.”

“A fight?! Oh my god, with who?”

Hoseok bit on his lips, trying hard not to laugh at you. “You punched your ex.”

You stood from your seat too fast and felt dizzy right away. With a blink of an eye, Hoseok was by your side, a hand on your back and steadying before you could collapse on the floor. “Easy tiger.”

“Sorry.” You sat back. “It can’t be. I’ve never hit anybody in my life.” Then you thought about a time when Jimin had intentionally told your parents about your supposed weekend with your friend which was a cover for your weekend with your boyfriend. It was the only time you truly got mad at Jimin and had punched him in the face. “Well, except for Jimin.”

“Shocking.” Hoseok feigned surprise. “He does deserve a beating from time to time.”

Despite your anxiety, you chuckled. “And what happened after I hit him?”

Hoseok’s whole face darkened for a second; it was so fast you could have imagined it. But you didn’t. “According to your friend, he tried to slap you. Again. Luckily for him, your friend got you out of his way before he could do so.”

It was a very odd thing to witness. Hoseok was clearly annoyed, no, angry with Hyeonwu, maybe because he didn’t like men who would raise their hand on women or maybe it was just because of you, either way it was odd but nice. “You’re angry.”

Hoseok didn’t deny it. “I am. But not only with this piece of shit. Last night I was angry with you too.”

“Why me?” You frowned, “Did I do something else?”

Hoseok considered telling you the truth. He eyed you from head to toes, eyes lingering a little longer than acceptable on your bare legs before shaking his head. He wouldn’t tell but his gaze was enough to tell you that you had done something stupid.

“Don’t tell me I jump on you.” You almost begged him.

Hoseok blinked before bursting into laughter. “I would have loved that.”

His response confused you. If you didn’t jump on him (which would have explained his shirt on you) then what was it? You glanced at your hands and then at Hoseok, scowling half angrily at him – he flicked gently your forehead in response. “Really, you don’t want to remember this part.”

Your eyes widened in realization; there could be only one other thing that could embarrass you. “Oh no. Please, tell me I didn’t throw up.”

Hoseok winced at the memory. “You did and then passed out in my bathroom.”

You buried your face in between your hands, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. You regretted bitterly your poor choices in life. First you got wasted, then you thought it would be cool to punch your ex (he completely deserved it). “Wait. How did you know I was at this party?”

“You messaged me.”

“I did what?”

Hoseok showed you his phone and the messages you exchanged in your drunken state. Bloody hell. Second reminder to yourself: quit drinking. You should have called for Jimin but instead you chose Hoseok (and here you thought you would never dare to send him a message). You told him how lonely you felt and that you wanted to leave the party. This was embarrassing, enough for you to hide for a while but you also couldn’t ignore the fact (and it warmed your heart more than it should) that instead of ignoring your texts, Hoseok came for you.

"You could have called Jimin." That was definitely not what you wanted to say. A ‘thank you’ would have been better but somehow you wanted to know why he came.

"He would have asked why you asked for me instead of him." Hoseok sighed, too aware that he was playing a dangerous game that could not end well. "I shouldn’t have left you my number. But you know what? A part of me is happy I did." Hoseok gently took your hand and started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. "Who knows what would have happened otherwise?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes darted back and forth between his face and his hand.

This Hoseok seemed so much more familiar compare to the one you had faced last time. He was sweet and gentle and of course a little tease.

"You know," Hoseok started, he watched you trying to figure him out, "If love doesn’t work for you maybe you should try something else."

*

To say that you didn’t think about the morning with Hoseok or his words would be a lie because you did. Quite often even. A part of you clung to the memory of his touches, of his words but another, and the more rational part of you told you to forget and to move on.

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t forget when you saw Hoseok every now and then. Hoseok made it even harder; he would never miss a chance to tease you (whether it was about that day or another subject) when nobody was looking.

One word from you and you could have stopped it. But you didn’t. No. You could pretend you didn’t like all this attention but it would be another lie - you loved it.

You sighed as once more you were thinking about Hoseok. How troublesome.

It was getting late. You should have been home for a while now but because of the project you were working on, you had to stay later than usual. Jimin had promised to meet you after work with cookies which would have been perfect after such a long day - Jimin was late.

One glance at your phone - still no news from your brother which worried you. Did he somehow forget about you? That would be very unlike him but the alternative scared you.

A car stopped right by your side. You glanced at the car but quickly averted your eyes, it wasn’t Jimin’s.

The person inside the car however wasn’t done with you. Winding down the window - you heard a familiar voice calling for you. A voice that made your skin tingle and warm right away.

"Hobi?"

"Get in." He smiled brightly at you, "I’m your driver for tonight."

Oh. Oh boy.

It took you all self control not to show him how you felt about it, instead you hurried to get inside his car and tried to look casual. "Do I want to know why you’re here instead of Jimin?"

"Ouch. A lesser man would have been hurt with your words, princess." Hoseok, however, didn’t seem that hurt in your opinion - he winked playfully at you and started the car. "Jimin is stuck in the office so I offered to pick you up."

"How nice of you, oh my savior." You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.

Hoseok laughed and to your utter surprise patted your naked leg. It was such a simple gesture, probably with no intention behind, but your body reacted on it own, burning under his touch. You bit on your lips and tried to regain composure, but your mind seemed to concentrate only at the spot on your leg Hoseok had touched. Geez Y/N, calm the hell down!

"How come you were staying so late?"

You welcomed this distraction with a sigh of relief; if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment. "I’m working on my art project and I’m a little behind the schedule."

"You’re art major?" Hoseok was surprised for a short moment before memories flashed through his mind. "Right. Why am I even surprised." He chuckled to himself. "I remember you spending hours drawing or painting while we would be playing games in the background. I don’t know how you managed to concentrate with all the noise."

At least he admitted that they were the noisiest persons you had ever met. But truth to be told, it never bothered you. Yes they were loud and would try to distract you when you weren’t even trying to talk to them, but their energy, their pure friendship, the atmosphere around them was something that fueled your inspiration. "I never minded."

Hoseok glanced at you, one brow arched. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "It helped me."

"Well, if you’re ever stuck, just call us. I’ll be more than glad to be noisy." He joked.

"Will do."

*

Asking Jimin about Hoseok without actually letting him know how you felt was tricky. Jimin knew you like the back of his hand which meant that whether you tried tricking him into believing that your questions were out of pure curiosity or not would end the same way: Jimin knowing your tiny crush on Hoseok was not as tiny as you thought.

You took the risk anyway.

While Jimin was drinking his coffee and reading newspaper, you sat in front of him and poured yourself some coffee too. "Hey Jimin," He only acknowledged your presence with a hum, waiting for whatever you wanted to say. "Are you planning to have a boys night soon?"

Jimin lowered the newspaper, checked your face before resuming his reading without giving you a proper answer which made you scowl at him. Was he in a bad mood? "Jimin-"

"Don’t say it." He interrupted you before you could try again, still without looking at you.

You blinked, confused. "Say what?"

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to ask."

You huffed and crossed you arms over your chest; you couldn’t believe he could possibly know what was on your mind. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." But you did.

Jimin slammed his newspaper on the table (and you winced at his reaction), his eyes dark and threatening were on you. Well, you had completely forgotten that your bother could get quite intimidating when he wanted to. You chose not to cower and just huff one more time in annoyance and maybe a tad of provocation.

"You aren’t asking when I’m going to see my friends. "Jimin pointed at you, "You’re asking when I’m going to invite Hoseok over so you could see him again."

Yeah, ok, Jimin really knew what he was talking about. You bit on your lips, contemplating whether you should be honest with him or tell him he was wrong. You couldn’t muster the courage to lie. "So? When is he coming?"

Jimin groaned. "Y/N."

"What? I’m just curious."

"No, you’re not." JImin’s jaw tensed and for a second you thought all hell would break loose. But to your biggest surprise, Jimin kept his temper in check and simply shook his head. "He’s not the right guy for you."

You scoffed in disbelief at his presumptions.. "Are you telling me this as my brother or as his friend?"

"What’s the difference? I’m telling you he’s not right for you."

"And of course you know who’s right for me?!" Getting angry and raising your voice at him was very unlike you; it took you by surprise and so it did to Jimin as his eyes widened slightly in shock.

Jimin inhaled and exhaled, trying to be the mature one and not to get angry. "I actually do."

You doubt that.

"You want to feel the butterflies. You want a prince, a fairy tale. You want someone who would be willing to sacrifice everything for you. I’m sorry but Hoseok isn’t this kind of man."

The urge to throw the rest of your coffee at him was very strong and so damn tempting. But that would be extremely childish of you and would only prove him he was right.

He was, but you weren’t ready to admit that just yet.

*

Jimin’s words had hit home. He was right about your view and expectations from a relationship and yet what Jimin also didn’t know was that your faith in love had shattered. It wasn’t like Hyeonwu was the love of your life and you expected to get married and have two kids with him. No. But the betrayal left a bitter taste in your mouth. So why not try something else? Something so out of your character? And who would be the best to show you the way than Hoseok?

"I know this look. You’re up to something." Mina nudged you in the stomach making you groan in both pain and annoyance. But Mina only wiggled her brows playfully at you. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

She didn’t buy it even for a second. "Nothing would be you not checking your phone every five minutes as if you’re waiting for someone, probably your very hot crush, to text you back."

You gave her the stink eye. Mina was too observant for her own good. You bit on your lips but chose not to tell her what was on your mind.

Mina huffed in annoyance as she realized that. "Fine. Don’t tell me."

But just like Mina had mentioned, you checked your phone hoping to see a message from Hoseok. You had sent him a message two hours ago, telling him you needed a lift which you didn’t but he didn’t need to know that. Till now, you still had no answer which shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. It was just a game, you promised yourself.

Mina grabbed your arm and forced you to halt. "You should probably stop checking your phone and look before you instead." A wicked smile that sent shivers down your spine spread on her plump lips. She pointed at something, at someone and when your eyes found that someone, your breath hitched in your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing.

Hoseok was leaning against his car, all in black, and looking too out of place in your opinion but so damn hot. The black turtleneck sweater and leather jacked looked all too good on him. He was a walking sin.

And apparently Mina agreed to your thoughts as she whistled and nudged you playfully. "I guess you won’t need a lift after all."

"See you tomorrow." Was the only thing you managed to say, eyes glued to a smiling Hoseok, heart roaring in your ears as you took a step towards him.

"Have fun!" Mina said too loudly for your liking. You hoped he didn’t hear it.

He did. Hoseok’s smile turned into a smirk, but at least he didn’t comment. He opened the door for you like a gentleman. "My lady."

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he would say something like that.

*

To say that you were nervous would be the understatement of the century.

You drove in almost complete silence. Music played in the background and usually it would have helped you to relax but it didn’t. You kept glancing at Hoseok - if he noticed, he didn’t comment. How exactly were you supposed to bring the subject without making a fool of yourself?

"So," Hoseok cleared his throat to get your attention. "Are you planning to tell me what it’s really about?"

You snapped your head so fast at him, eyes widening. He knew you were up to something. Maybe he knew exactly what you were up to and this thought wasn’t very comforting.

You averted your eyes from his face and looked instead at your curled fist resting on your thighs. You were exactly where you wanted to be and you needed to be brave to tell him what you wanted.

You took a deep breath and looked at him. Confident. "Do you remember what you told me last time?" As you saw him frowning you quickly added, "If love doesn’t work for me I should try something else."

Hoseok’s grip on the wheel tightened. "I remember." Despite that he didn’t look at you or elaborate.

His lack of reaction (you expected him to laugh at you at least) only made you more nervous - you shoved it somewhere far and stayed as composed as possible. "Want to help me with it?"

Here. It was out.

Hoseok pulled over without a word or a single glance at you which quite frankly made you want to jump out of the car and forget everything about your plan. It was stupid, reckless. What were you even thinking?

As the car got to a halt, Hoseok turned to look at you. Really look at you. His eyes were dark and if you didn’t know better you would have thought they were hungry. Sadly, it couldn’t be true.

Hoseok licked his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, giving you a terrible impression that suddenly you were his prey. "Did you call me in hope I’d say yes?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yet your voice got stuck in your throat.

At your silence, Hoseok only chuckled and leaned closer so his hand could reach your warm face. Gently, he stroked your cheek. There were things he wished he could tell you, but he couldn’t. You weren’t ready.

"Did you think I would say yes to fuck you, Y/N?"

It was exactly what you hoped, exactly what you wanted. And yet, having Hoseok so close, muttering those words made you gulp, frozen on the spot. It was stupid. You were stupid.

What were you thinking, Y/N?!

Hoseok pulled back. "Thought so."

He took you home without a word.

You had fucked up.

*

Holidays meant more time for you. Meant more time to heal from your break up, more time to work on your project that didn’t go as planned, and sadly more time to think about your humiliation. You couldn’t forget what happened in the car, how stupid you were and how bad you had felt afterwards. Luckily for you, Jimin hadn’t invited Hoseok or any other of his friends which let you all the time to gloom.

In fact, Jimin was barely at home at all which in a way was great for you; you had more space for yourself and at least he wouldn’t know about your mood. But it didn’t mean he didn’t notice.

On the third day of your holidays, Jimin barged in your room, startling you. You were so engrossed in your painting that you hadn’t heard him at all.

"That’s enough." Jimin looked genuinely upset and tired.

You eyed him, a brow cocked at him. "What is enough?"

"You. Do you think because I have been so busy, I haven’t noticed your behavior?" Jimin pointed an accusing finger at you. "Just because you’re alone in there don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in your pretty head."

Jimin approached you and put a bag at your feet.

"What is it?"

"My company is having a party and I need you to come with me."

That was ridiculous. Not because you didn’t like the idea of going to a party (though after your last experience, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea), but you going with Jimin didn’t make much sense. He could get any date he wanted, why would he bother to bring his sister instead? You shook your head in disbelief. "Jimin, you can ask any of your girl friends to come with you."

Jimin huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "I could, but my little sister is being a depressed, ugly monster right now. You need some fresh air."

You tried to hit him for the ‘ugly monster’ but Jimin was fast to dodge your attack, laughing at your attempt. "Get ready. We’re leaving in two hours."

"Would it be enough for you to get ready?" You joked, though it was half true. Jimin tended to spend more time than you to get ready.

He only stuck his tongue out in reply.

*

There was no denying, Jimin’s company sure as hell knew how to throw a party. You didn’t expect much when he asked you to come with him but you definitely blessed him for bringing you along. The venue was beautiful; from lights to the layout of the place, to the music in the background (and let’s not forget about the food and free alcohol). For a second, you forgot about Jimin and let go of his arm just so you could wander and have a better view of the place - Jimin only smiled at that and watched you from afar.

After three days of mopping around, it was good to see your eyes shining brightly and looking forward for something, even if it was for one night. Jimin hoped that by bringing you with him, it would make you realize that whatever was bothering you wasn’t worth it.

"I take it as you like the place." Jimin joined you and snatched two glasses of Champaign. "Here."

You being you gladly accepted. "I do. Are all your company’s parties so luxurious?" Then you glanced at the people around. They all looked classy and beautiful with their outfits and you were more than thankful that Jimin found a pretty hot dress for you - a red, long backless dress with a front split.

"No. This one is more formal but sometimes…It gets crazy." Judging by Jimin’s reaction, you decided that you didn’t want to know about the crazy parties, just because imagining your brother doing something reckless was too much no matter how close you were.

"Come on, sis. Lets the fun begin." He showed you his arm and you gladly accepted it.

*

Jimin was an amazing brother.

You, of course, already knew that, but tonight one more time he proved you just how good of a brother he was. Nothing obliged him to stay the most part of the night with you, nothing. But he did. He drank with you, stole some food with you when nobody was looking (though would it still be considered stealing when he belonged to the company). He joked with you, commented on people. He introduced you to his people, his crew and by the huge smiles on their face, you knew just how much Jimin was appreciated.

You wanted him to enjoy the night. "Jimin," you tugged his hand gently. "Go. Have fun." Which only made him frown. Of course he wouldn’t understand which only made you smile fondly at him. "I think you’ve spent more than enough time with me, you should go and enjoy yourself."

Jimin scoffed. "What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Oh please. Do you think I didn’t see how you were eying this girl by the window? I’m not blind." You pinched his arm making him yelp and take a step from you. "Go. I’ll be fine. I probably won’t stay for too long so don’t worry for me."

Despite your attempt at convincing him to leave you alone, Jimin hesitated.

"I’m going to get really mad if you don’t go to her." You warned him.

"No you won’t." But he smiled nevertheless. "Fine." He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But just so you know, I had fun tonight. It reminded me the good old days - I hadn’t realized just how much I missed those times."

You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze - you completely agreed with him. Till tonight, you hadn’t realized just how much you missed spending some quality time with him. "Now go and you better not come back before morning!"

This time, Jimin rolled his eyes at you.

Proud of yourself, you snatched another glass of champaign. You wandered around the huge place without really minding people until, and sadly for you, you bumped into someone you didn’t expect to see tonight because your lovely brain had chosen to forget that Jung Hoseok was also working with Jimin.

You stumbled - Hoseok was fast to grab your arm and steady you.

Bloody hell.

Why.

How could you have forgotten that Hoseok too was working in this company and that obviously he would attend the party was beyond your comprehension. Why did you always forget about the most important things that could have avoided you some unwanted situation?

You had no words. You felt embarrassed and not only because you had bumped into him. No. The simple sight of him (looking absolutely devastating in his black suit) brought back the memory of the very humiliating night that you wished to forget.

"Sorry." You quickly apologized and while Hoseok was too stunned to see you, you ran away.

The moment you reached the stairs, you took your damn heels off. Your feet hurt and with you trying to get away from Hoseok as fast as possible - it hurt. You leaned against the wall for a short moment, taking a deep breath.

"Put those back on." Hoseok’s voice startled you and you almost hit your head in the process.

"Not your damn business." Shit. You wanted to smash your head against the wall, feeling utterly stupid for being suddenly so harsh and so not like you. Yes, you were frustrated. Yes, you were angry, but with yourself.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was stunned but only for a short moment. It wasn’t very often that he witnessed your sassy and angry side but he decided that he liked it. He had two options before him; he could either leave you to your fate and go back to the party (a party he wasn’t very fond of anyway) or he could stay with you. He chose the latter.

Without a warning, Hoseok lifted you from the ground - you yelped in surprise and fear but your arms instantly flew to his neck.

"The hell are you doing?!" You screamed at him.

"Since you’re being so disobedient, I’m bringing you home." Was his only answer.

You couldn’t accept that. You pinched his nape, hit his chest in hope he would let you go. He didn’t and he wasn’t bothered with your antics. Oh no, it amused him. All your attempts at being feisty and strong - he knew he had the upper hand.

"Jung Hoseok, you better put me down now or-"

"Or what?" He cut you before you could finish your threat. "You’re going to scream?"

That was your first option, yes, but you weren’t sure you wanted to attracted any attention on you. You hit him instead in the chest. Again.

Hoseok chuckled and his grip around you tightened. Before you could ask him anything, he took you by surprise by putting you on a car. His car. You blinked, confused, and observed him.

Hoseok didn’t say a word, he simply watched you, licking his lips as his eyes roamed through your body.

Good god. Your skin flushed under his gaze. You were in so much trouble.

"That was unnecessary." You said as you tried to slid from the car - Hoseok was faster. Before you could get back on your feet, he got closer to you. His hands were on your exposed thighs as he settled between your legs. Dear lord. Your heart leapt in your throat at the sudden proximity and the feel of his hands on your bare skin. Just like the last time, it burnt, so bad, so good.

"Hoseok?"

He didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, on the feel of your skin against the palm of his hands. He was supposed to be the reasonable one but the moment he spotted you at the parted wearing this sinful dress, all his resolution vanished - he wanted you. He pressed his head against your forehead, eyes never leaving your lips. It was pure madness. "Tell me to stop, Y/N."

"Wh-what?" You were genuinely confused.

His hands traveled through your body, slowly, gently, feather like touches that sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. He was toying with you and your feelings - you couldn’t think straight.

"Tell me to stop." His lips were impossibly close, all you had to do was to tilt your head and your lips would finally meet his. "You’re the only one who can stop me. Say no and I’ll stop and bring you home."

You gulped nervously and at the same time hopeful and excited with what he could do if you said yes instead. "And what happens if I don’t stop you?"

Hoseok groaned as he closed his eyes. He imagined many things, especially ever since you mentioned fucking him - he couldn’t stop thinking about it. "Jimin is going to kick my ass."

More confident, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer against you. You whispered against his lips, "I’m going to protect you then."

You sealed the promise with a kiss.

*

It was seven in the morning, you were a mess but a rather satisfied mess. Hoseok had dropped you after the almost sleepless night you had spent at his place. You expected him to regret having sex with you, heck, you expected to feel guilty about it too but none of it happened. Hoseok had woken you up with a gentle kiss on the lips, on your cheeks, on your shoulders - he didn’t particularly wanted to part with you but he knew better than to take risks with Jimin.

You pushed the door to Jimin’s place as quietly as you could, hoping deep inside you that Jimin had listened to your advice and spend the night somewhere else while you were supposed to be at home.

On your tiptoes you walked through the place, trying not to knock anything on your path - Jimin cleared his throat.

"Holy shit!" You jumped and slammed your hand over your chest. "You scared me!"

What Jimin was doing awake at this unholy hour (at least for a Saturday) was beyond you. He was at home and you were in trouble.

Jimin eyed you with a quirked brow, up and down, taking notes of your state. You wanted to ignore his glare and run to the safety of your room but sadly, your feet were rooted to the ground, staring back at him. "Hi?"

Jimin shook his head. "So. Whose body am I going to bury in the garden?"

"We don’t have a garden." You answered without thinking - Jimin rolled his eyes in response.

Yes, you were in trouble.

*

What was supposed to be a one time thing with Hoseok turned into something more. Every time he called, you said yes, swearing every single time it would be the last because you were terrified at how he made you feel. But you couldn’t get enough.

You bit on your lips while playing with your pencil. Instead of drawing, in class, you found yourself glancing at your still red wrists - memories flashed through your mind and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together.

Flashback

You watched, completely bewitched, as Hoseok tied your hands to the bed with a red silk ribbons. With every step he took, Hoseok watched you carefully, making sure he wasn’t overstepping some boundaries, that you were hundred percent comfortable with whatever he was doing to you.

You were.

God, you were more than that judging by how wet you were and he hadn’t even touched you. Another time, another day you would have felt embarrassed about being so aroused but it was Hoseok and if there was one thing he made sure to teach you was that you should never be ashamed or embarrassed about yourself.

Never.

"Such a good girl for me." Hoseok praised you and once he was done with the knot, he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrists. Such a sweet and delicate gesture that sent shivers down your spine and to your core - you pressed your thighs together seeking any friction you could get.

Hoseok chuckled at your attempt but did nothing to ease your aching body, no, instead he pulled back and admired the view before him.

You were splayed in front of him, lips beautifully swollen with all the kissing, pupils blown. It was his favorite view; you being naked and so willing for him, he was getting harder with every look he took.

"So beautiful." His finger trailed along your calf, drawing circles.

"Hoseok." You pleaded, skin on fire. You wanted him to touch you, to feel him.

Hoseok only smiled in response and considered what he wanted to do with you. He crawled, parting your legs in the process. He kissed your calf, a warm and gentle press of the lips that got you to whine in both delight and slight despair. You were torn between the wish he could simply ravish you, or the wish he would take his sweet time with you, torturing your body, your senses - you bit on your lips.

"What should I do with you, baby girl?" Hoseok hummed as he hovered over you. His fingers trailed along your jaw before his thumb was rubbing your lips. He loved your mouth, those pretty lips that could drive him crazy. He would have loved to feel your mouth around his cock, to have you chock around him. Yes, he would love that very much but another time.

Anything, you wanted to say but your words got lost the moment his hands started roaming your body. They were everywhere. On your thighs, your stomach, your breast. Every touch drove you crazier and he knew it. Hoseok knew your body like the back of his hand and he sure as hell knew what to do to make you beg.

"Hoseok, please." You begged, not giving a damn as long as he gave you what you needed. "I need you." You lifted your hips to lean further in his touch but Hoseok pushed you back on the bed. So easily. "Please."

"Such an impatient little thing." He tsked but his smirk only widened.

Before you could whine, his lips claimed your mouth, demanding, wet, intoxicating and brief. You wanted to pull him back, to deepen the kiss but you couldn’t. You pulled at your restraints, the cloth only sank into your skin.

Hoseok’s lips traveled from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, leaving as many purple marks as possible (knowing all too well that you would complain later); your body was a white canvas and he sure as hell wanted to work on it.

His lips followed an invisible path, slowly, sometimes gentle sometimes harsher, you could never guess when he would worship a part of your body and when he would suddenly bite hard enough for you to cry out his name.

Hoseok covered every inch of your body with kisses and by the time he came face to face with your dripping pussy, you were a crying, bothered mess. His lips weren’t the only thing that drove you completely mad. No, the whole time he worked on you, his eyes never left yours and this simple sight made you almost come undone.

"Hoseok." You could feel the tears of frustration at the corner of your eyes; you were too wound up to be able to bear it any longer. You needed him, now.

Hoseok’s grin only widened before he kissed, eagerly, your clit - you threw your head back, letting out a loud moan and pulling again at your restraints. It was so annoying not being able to move freely; you wanted to grab Hoseok’s hair, pull his head closer to your heat and to feel more of him.

Hoseok feasted on you like a starved man, tongue and lips working magic between your legs. Your mind went completely blank, overwhelmed with all the tension in your body, all the fire and incredible pleasure that made you see stars.

"Fuck, Hoseok." You moaned his name over and over again.

Hoseok hummed in satisfaction and gave your clit a particularly harsh suck that made your toes curl. "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you, baby girl." He glanced at you and the sight of Hoseok’s glistening lips with your juices made your walls clench around nothing.

Fuck.

"You taste so sweet." He licked his lips. "I should probably kidnap you more often and have my way with you."

Before you could suggest him that kidnapping you whenever he wanted (even if you loved the idea) was a bad idea unless you wanted to deal with a very angry Jimin, Hoseok finally gave you something to fill the emptiness inside you: he pushed a finger against your hole, then a second. Your walls welcomed him eagerly.

"Look at you." He hummed in approval as his fingers stretched you, making you push your hips to swallow more of him. "This pussy is so greedy."

"Hoseok." You cried out, "Please, please."

All he gave you was a gentle press of his lips against your thigh before going back to his work, fingers, tongue, overwhelming you till you couldn’t see or hear anything, till your body tensed before exploding.

But Hoseok didn’t stop. Not when you were pulling at your restraints, not when you were trying to get away from his tongue, your body being too sensitive after your first orgasm of the night.

He was going to be the death of you.

End flashback

*

You swore to whoever was willing to listen (and maybe to yourself too) that this art project would be the death of you. Usually, art wasn’t a problem; you loved painting, you loved drawing, it was your way to express yourself, to immortalize a moment in life, anything. But this project? You couldn’t concentrate on it. You tried, thousands of times but every time what came out of you wasn’t enough.

You came home exhausted, upset and wanted nothing more than a warm meal, a shower and the comfort of your bed. Those plans, however, vanished from your mind, the moment you spotted extra pairs of shoes at the entrance and judging by the numbers, you put two and two together.

A tiny smile spread on your lips as you walked on tiptoes, making sure to not make any noise just so you could check on them without them noticing. And what a sight! Three men completely sprawled out on the couch with fluffy blankets and cushions, wearing pajamas and of course with tons of snacks on the coffee table. You had to memorize this image - discretely you took your phone out and snapped a picture, smiling proudly to yourself. This was perfect blackmail material.

But then, and sadly for your brother, you noticed what exactly they were planning to watch on TV. You gasped loudly, making yourself known. "How dare you."

"Hi Y/N!" Taehyung waved cutely at you and you almost forgot all about your wrath - how were you supposed to stay mad with those pretty twinkling eyes and pretty smile? No really.

You shook your head and averted your eyes, stopping quickly at Hoseok. He wiggled his brows playfully at you causing a hot fire spread through your body - you rolled your eyes at him to make a point. This was not the right time or place to mess with you. When your eyes met Jimin’s, you gave him the stink eye.

"Hi sis."

"Don’t hi me you traitor!" You took a dangerous step towards them and you swore Hoseok tried to bite down a laugh (Jimin nudged him in the stomach for that). "I forgive Taehyung and Hoseok because they don’t know what Marvel means to me, but you," You pointed an accusing finger at him, "My own brother! How could you!"

Yes, you were absolutely dramatic and ready to flip a table.

"Oh come on, Y/N, we weren’t-" Jimin started. He was tempted to fight you, it was just so fun to see you so annoyed, but another part of him was genuinely worried of what you could do.

"We were planning to watch Dr. Strange." Taehyung threw chips in the air and caught it easily with his mouth, that almost distracted you if not for the mention of your favorite Marvel.

Jimin shrieked and grabbed Hoseok to shield himself from your wrath. "I’m sorry!!"

"You’re so dead." You warned him and you would have jumped on him to probably strangle him if not for a very smug Hoseok who was all too amused with your antics. You promised to yourself to deal with him later. Nobody was allowed to mock your love for Dr. Strange. Not even Hoseok. No matter how good his dick was.

"I’m going to take a quick shower and you better wait for me to start the movie or I swear to god you’re all dead." You warned them, eyeing every single one of them. Jimin hid fully behind Hoseok and cursed under his breath. Hoseok shook his head while Taehyung blinked completely unfazed with your outburst.

*

They listened.

Whether it was out of fear or because they really wanted you to join them for their Marvel’s night, they waited for you.

By the time you joined them in your pajamas, Taehyung was wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by pillows, sitting on the floor instead of the couch. He winked at you and patted the empty space beside Hoseok. Hoseok lifted the blanket that was covering him to let you in. For a second you contemplated the idea of sitting beside Jimin instead of Hoseok, it would be annoying yes (because you still felt like beating the crap out of your brother), while sitting beside Hoseok would be too tempting.

You sat, of course, beside Hoseok, your heart and wish to be beside him won over your brain. He covered both of you with the blanket and pressed his thigh lightly against yours. You closed your eyes, thought about Dr. Strange; you had to focus, on the movie, on the actor, on anything except for the warm hand that was suddenly on your thigh.

This was exactly what you had feared. Hoseok had no shame, was fearless and loved to tease you despite Jimin being just beside him, completely unaware of what was going on (luckily for you).

Hoseok was drawing slow and gentle circles on your skin making you shiver and sank deeper in the couch. It took you all self-control to not look at him (and possibly straddle his legs) and pretend that nothing was going on under the blanket- this was torture. Torture like Hoseok loved it, you did too of course.

Not once Hoseok looked your way, nothing on his face could have betrayed his intentions but you felt it. His fingers were gentle, stroking your skin but of course Hoseok didn’t stop; his hand slid higher and right between your legs, fingers teasing gently – you squeezed your thighs tightly, trapping his hand in between.

You can’t. But shit you wanted it so badly. Hoseok pinched your skin forcing you to open up for him while biting your lips in order to prevent any very unwelcomed sound.

But despite how bothered his simple touches left you, you chose to be the responsible one. You took a deep breath and grabbed Hoseok’s hand, giving it a strong squeeze you looked at him, frowning, conveying all your frustration and a warning.

Hoseok chuckled in response.

The little shit.

*

Having sex with Hoseok was great. No, fuck it. It was mind-blowing and you were pretty sure nobody else could ever make you feel as much as Hoseok did. It terrified you but you cherished those moments more than you were willing to admit to yourself.

But having sex with him was, funnily enough, not the only thing you enjoyed. Despite your little arrangement, Hoseok gave you more than you expected from a fuck buddy (except he wasn’t your buddy but rather Jimin’s). He spent times willingly with you, taking you to cute places and date coffees. He would help you to sneak from your place and drive you to places you wouldn’t have visited on your own. Hoseok was spontaneous and you loved it a lot about him.

But the thing you loved the most about what Hoseok gave you, was the hours you would spend laying lazily in bed talking. It was something you expected (if not required) from a boyfriend - it was intimate. But Hoseok gave you those moments anyway.

Just like tonight. You told Jimin you would spend the weekend with Mina, girls’ weekend because with college and all the projects you just didn’t have so much time together anymore. A big fat lie and you would have felt bad about it if not for the fact that being with Hoseok made you forget everything about your guilt.

Hoseok sat on the bed with his legs stretched so you could rest your head on his thighs. His hand was running through your hair, so naturally as if he had done it thousands of times (you wished he did).

"I was wondering," You started and turned your face so your cheek was pressed against his thigh. "Did you know it was me in the club? I mean-"

Hoseok didn’t let you finish your mumbling, a smile spread on his face. "I did. I was watching you from afar for a good part of the night." His fingers kept running through your hair - it felt so good you almost purred. "You looked miserable and I wanted to come and talk to you but I was a tiny bit worried you wouldn’t recognize me." Then, he winked at you, "You didn’t recognize me actually."

You jolted from your comfortable spot, eyes widened in surprise. "You’re kidding."

"Am not." Hoseok flicked your forehead and pushed you back. "How could I not recognize Jimin’s little sister? I used to tease you all the time."

At that you smiled. "You were awful."

"It’s because your reactions were always so endearing, I couldn’t help it."

You huffed in fake annoyance but the urge to smile was stronger.

Hoseok’s fingers moved from your hair to your forehead, then your nose (and he did not missed the chance to flick it playfully) and finally your lips. He parted them gently with his thumb – you let him in. He was completely hypnotized and you could only imagine what was going through his mind (something you would probably enjoy if he asked).

"I know what you’re thinking." You commented and bit lightly on Hoseok’s thumb.

Hoseok chuckled. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone is being insatiable."

All you did was plant a kiss on his thigh and feel him tense under your lips.

Too easy.

*

When you got back from the weekend at Hoseok’s place, you were positive that nothing and nobody could ruin it for you. You felt light, happy, relaxed - everything you had been missing out for the past months.

Jimin was sprawled on the couch with his laptop; his hair was a mess. Clearly someone was ruffling his hair too much in frustration which was such a Jimin’s thing to do. You smiled brightly at the sight, the urge to tease him was getting strong.

"Please tell me you’re not working on a Sunday night." You were half mocking him half scolding him.

Jimin, despite being a flirt and a social butterfly, had a bad tendency at bringing his work at home too. At first, it didn’t bother you as much because he found time to be with you (not like he was forced to) but somehow, for the past weeks, he had been working more and more which wasn’t very healthy in your opinion.

Jimin barely looked at you, whether it was because he was too concentrate or because there was something you couldn’t tell but you sensed something was off.

You hurried to put your bag in your room before going back to him and plopping on the couch beside him. "Hello?"

Jimin was so tempted to ignore you, he wanted to ignore you but the need to make sure he was just imagining things was too strong. He shut his screen and looked at you. "Such a noisy little sister."

"We have that in common then." You nudged him with your feet.

Jimin was fast to grab your feet, smirking wickedly. "Oh don’t start or I might tickle you to death."

"You wouldn’t dare!" You gasped despite knowing that he would do it without hesitation. Luckily for you, Jimin seemed to be in a rather merciful mood. He let go of your feet and grabbed instead a cushion that he pressed against his chest and rested his head on top of it.

"I have a funny story for you."

"Tell me."

"So I have a friend and he has a very cute and smart little sister."

"Are you talking about me?" You laughed and nudged him one more time. Jimin only smiled without trying to deny it which was your first hint that you were in trouble.

"Well you see, his little sister that he loves very very much, started going out a lot which is absolutely fine. Great even. But one day she lied and it bothered him."

You would be lying if you said his words didn’t affect you or made your palm sweaty. There was no way the story wasn’t about you, and the lie it had something to do with your weekend. Shit.

Jimin didn’t continue his story; he sat and scrutinizing your face - you wished he kept talking, it would make you less nervous.

"It’s Hoseok, isn’t it?"

Oh. Well, you were in trouble. Big, big trouble.

You let out a harsh breath; what were you supposed to say?

Jimin ruffled his hair before gently grabbing your calf and giving it a squeeze. "I should have known you wouldn’t listen."

"You aren’t angry?" Was the only question that actually mattered. You could deal with Jimin disagreeing with your choice of men or relationship, but you didn’t want him to be angry with you.

"I’m not. I know, shocking." He joked but looked more relaxed. "I can’t say I’m delighted but you’re a big girl and Hoseok is a smart man, I trust him enough not to hurt you."

"He won’t." Not willingly was what you wanted to add.

*

You

[10:05pm]: You might one to reconsider your friendship with Jimin.

Hobi

[10:07pm]: Ok??? Should I worry?

You

[10:07pm]: He promised not to burry you in our imaginary garden.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: Ok. I’m worried.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: What happened? What did I do?

You

[10:10pm]: Well maybe, Jimin knows about us?

Hobi

[10:11pm]: Oh. I’m moving to Alaska. Just in case, you know.

You

[10:11pm]: Tell me you have a tiny place in your suitcase for me?

Hobi

[10:12pm]: For you, always.

*

Your phone kept buzzing through your last class to the point that you had to mute it completely for the sake of your sanity. Some were messages from Jimin, some from Hoseok (which now that you thought about it should have worried you that those two decided to message you at the same time) - it didn’t matter you had to concentrate.

"When did you become so popular?" Mina asked you as you put your books back in the bag.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh do you think I didn’t hear your phone?"

She was only messing with you. You knew it but couldn’t stop yourself from wincing anyway. "Sorry about that."

"Oh come on! Don’t make that face! It’s not that bad." She nudged you with her hips to make you feel better. "Now, I’m just curious."

That seemed to do it work - you relaxed at her words and remembered that you were supposed to read the messages.

You could have started with Jimin’s messages, after all he was your brother and it could have been urgent (considering he was trying to get your attention, badly, for the past hour) but you of course chose Hoseok.

But when you opened the conversation, the sight of a very familiar bag was not what you had expected. "Oh my god."

Mina leaned to peak over your shoulder - she frowned and pointed at the picture Hoseok had sent. "That’s your travel bag."

It was. Just under the picture Hoseok had texted you about his plan.

"You need a distraction. So do I. P.S: Jimin almost killed me for that."

You couldn’t help but smile. Hoseok sure knew how to take you off guard.

*

Driving for hours with Hoseok was nothing like you had imagined. It was fun and relaxed; he would tell you stories about the place, about the road and you would tell him about some of your own experiences. Some other time you would sing together.

You felt happy. Too happy. But you didn’t let this realization bother you; this weekend was about you and your lack, lately, of inspiration. Hoseok thought that the best way to reconcile with your muse would be the nature - he brought you to his family house that stood near a forest and by a lake.

It was hard to believe that such a place existed in real world - for a short moment, as you walked slowly to the house, you felt like you were finally part of one of the fairy tales you used to read when you were little.

"This is beautiful." You thought out loud.

Hoseok didn’t comment; he agreed, obviously, since the wooden house was one of his favorite destination when he needed to get out of town and forget about his troubles. But now, the beauty of this place was nothing compared to what he felt by just watching you from aside. You looked happy; your face lightened, eyes shining brightly and with curiosity. You were being you, the girl he used to know and not the sad and frustrated girl he had met. This thought warmed his heart.

"You are." Hoseok whispered to himself.

*

"I knew I would find you here." Hoseok plopped on the ground beside you.

You only smiled warmly and kept drawing. You had found the perfect spot for drawing and apparently your muse agreed. Ever since you had spotted the lovely, old willow by the lake, you knew it was the right place and you had to get there as soon as possible.

Maybe too fast. "I’m sorry." You averted, quite unwillingly, your eyes from your sketchbook to look at Hoseok. You had left him do all the work while you went straight to the lake. A tiny part of you felt bad about it but one glance at him and he put you at ease.

Hoseok was smiling brightly. "Not a big deal." He gently took your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours. So intimate, so lovely, you were ready to melt on the spot. And so did your heart.

"I know about your struggles. You told me you couldn’t draw no matter how hard you tried, remember?" He looked at both of your hands, squeezing your fingers while watching them, contemplative.

Odd.

"This place, in my opinion, has some healing effect on people. I hoped it would help you." He glanced at your sketchbook and his smile only widened. "Apparently it did."

Knowing that Hoseok brought you here for the sole purpose of helping you to get back on good terms with your muse completely undid you. You wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to kiss him and all at the same time - Hoseok had this effect on you. He made you feel, so many things at once.

Unable to stop yourself, you put down your sketchbook and instead slowly reached for Hoseok. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you straddled his laps. Nor could you resist the urge to peck his lips - so you did. You pecked his lips. Once, twice. This simple gesture made both of you smile.

"Thank you." You said from the bottom of your heart. And not only for bringing you to this place. No, you wanted to thank him for making you forget of your failures, of your heartbreak.

Sadly for you and despite all Hoseok’s efforts, there was one heartbreak you couldn’t avoid.

Because now that you were in his arms, you couldn’t deny any longer how you felt, what you felt. Hoseok was no longer your crush. No.

You loved him.

And admitting it hurt.

But you wouldn’t let the pain ruin this magical moment that Hoseok had offered you. So instead of dwelling on your feelings, you chose to forget all about it and enjoy everything you could get with him. One last time.

*

You had been ignoring Hoseok.

It wasn’t your initial intention. Hell he gave you absolutely no reason to ignore but you just couldn’t face him after the marvelous weekend in his company. Not when your heart was squeezing and twisting in pain every time he looked at you with this bright smile, every time he touched you, kissed you. It drove you crazy.

You knew it would happen. Jimin knew it too. So when you got safely home and faced him, you couldn’t stop your tears. Jimin had only hugged you and kissed your temples.

*

"I don’t know whether I should be happy that you finally agreed to meet with me or be angry." Hoseok admitted as you took place across from him.

After one long and miserable week, you finally asked Hoseok to meet at a café. Maybe choosing a public place was your way to make sure you wouldn’t break down and just go back on your words - now that you were seeing him (he looked exhausted judging by the dark circles under his eyes) again, you knew it was the right choice.

"I-m"

"Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s not why I came." Hoseok cut you. He was angry and rightfully so but it only made things more difficult for you. "Why did you avoid me?"

You took a deep breath. "I was scared."

Hoseok blinked, confused. "Of what?" He pointed at himself, "Me?"

"No!" You hurried to answer almost jolting from your chair. "God no."

You hated yourself for sounding so weak and indecisive but confessing how you truly felt didn’t come out as naturally as you thought it would.

"I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ignore you but at the moment it seemed like the best option. I needed time for myself and space to think."

Hoseok considered your words. He had felt confused, angry, heartbroken but now that he heard your voice, he felt just extremely tired. "Why?"

"Because nothing had changed, Hobi." And because I love you. "You’re still you. The handsome man and I’m still this foolish little girl who’s completely infatuated with you. It was stupid of me seeking you to distract me when really all it did was to make me fall for you. Hard." Admitting your feelings to yourself was one thing, admitting it to Hoseok was another and much harder, and yet, it was also a relief.

"What you did for me for the past months, I’m so thankful. You made me feel like nobody else ever did. Hell, I didn’t think I could feel anything like that at all. I wanted to believe this deal between us would be enough for me." You stopped to inhale sharply, "I really wanted it to be enough."

"It was a mistake, Hoseok. But you know what?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "I don’t regret it."

"I love you. But for my own safety, I need us to stop before I get hurt."

*

When at two in the morning you heard Hoseok’s voice, your first thought was that you had finally lost your mind. There was no other explanation, right?

You didn’t.

As you got closer to your door, the voice that you thought belonged to Hoseok was getting clearer and louder. It wasn’t your imagination, Hoseok was really here talking with a very sleepy and clearly upset Jimin.

"Hoseok, it’s two in the freaking morning and I’m that close to kicking your ass." Jimin tried to sound threatening but the tired yawn that escaped his lips ruined it for him. He cursed under his breath and couldn’t stop himself before glancing nervously at your slightly opened door.

Did he know?

You kept yourself hidden in the darkness of your room but you listened, heart roaring in your ears, mind going crazy. Why was Hoseok here? In the middle of the night?

"I let her down." Were Hoseok’s first words.

Jimin cocked a brow. "No. She left you."

Hoseok ruffled his hair. "No. I didn’t mean break up." He groaned in despair. Maybe drinking before barging at his friend’s place was a very, very bad idea but he couldn’t wait. He had to let it out even if it was only to Jimin.

"I let her leave." It pained him to say it. "God, this is hard."

"Hoseok." Jimin inched forward. "Were you drinking?"

"What?" Hoseok asked confused. "No. I mean yes, but that’s not the point."

"Man-"

"No. Listen." Hoseok cut him before he could lose it. "You don’t understand. Jimin, I was so shaken with her confession, I couldn’t believe it."

Jimin halted and stared back, face completely blank, contemplating whether his friend was plain dumb or was just too drunk. "The hell? Come on, Hoseok. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice!"

Hoseok laughed humorlessly. "Well shit, Jimin, no I didn’t. Would I have known, I wouldn’t have let her pretend."

Now that took you both by surprise. You clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent any unwelcome sound to leave your lips. This discussion was slowly driving you mad.

"You wouldn’t?"

"I wanted her ever since I saw her in that blue dress." Hoseok admitted and despite his drunken state and all the anxiety, he smiled at the memory. "Don’t hit me please."

Jimin kept his mouth shut but only because he was thinking about you in your room. He knew you were awake. While Hoseok was too busy pouring out his heart, Jimin had heard your tiny, barely audible gasp. Good. At least, and he hoped, it would lead to both of you stopping being stupid and annoying.

"You guys are so annoying." Jimin finally said while rubbing his temples. It was two in the damn morning for god’s sake and he wasn’t even drunk to deal with those feelings. "And I hate you both."

Hoseok tilted his head then glanced nervously at the door to your room. "You’re not hitting me?"

"Don’t tempt me." Jimin warned him. "Though I wouldn’t be sure if I’d be hitting you because I saw Y/N crying or because you dared to wake me up."

*

"So." Jimin, once sure, was free of Hoseok’s love confession, came to your room, leaning against your door with crossed arms. "Are you going to pretend you didn’t hear his confession or?"

You pretended not hearing him, blanket tightly wrapped around you, you simply refused to face your brother. You were embarrassed and confused, and felt warm at the same time. Damn Hoseok and his words. All your efforts to not think about Hoseok were ruined.

Jimin shook his head. Yes, he definitely hated the two of you. "Maybe I was wrong." That got your attention. "Maybe, Hoseok is your prince."

"Oh shut up." You let out against your better judgement.

*

Despite Hoseok’s confession, for once in your life you didn’t act upon your feelings. No, you chose to wait. Not because you were scared of facing the truth (ok, maybe a little bit), but you needed time. Time to concentrate on what truly mattered on the moment which happened to be the deadline for your project.

Most of people around you, including your brother, your family and obviously Hoseok, believed that the project was only about college. Which wasn’t quite the truth. No. A part of the project was obviously meant for college but what you hid from your close one was that a little art gallery wanted to exhibit your work once you were ready.

"When I think you can’t get any more amazing, you prove me wrong, girl." Mina commented, excited as she bounced at you, not caring for the people around you. "Those paintings are excellent. I mean, I’ve seen some of them before but the additional one? They’re mind-blowing."

You hugged her back, tightly, thankful for your friend’s presence.

"I know I’m not supposed to pry but, is he coming?"

You bit on your lips, hesitating. "I don’t know." You were scared to think about it. "I hope so."

But your worries vanished as fast as they came - Hoseok stepped inside the exhibit along with Jimin, looking like a damn model. Of course he would look so good. Obviously, you weren’t the only one who noticed his presence (or maybe you were just too aware because you cared).

Hoseok, despite spotting you right away, didn’t come to you right away. No, his attention was completely captured by the first paintings and you couldn’t blame him. He, out of all people in this room, would recognize and appreciate most your work. Not only because it was your work, but because he would recognize and understand. And he did.

He took his time and you followed his steps, walking behind him without a word. You smiled at people from time to time, but your attention stayed on him and on his face, wanting to not miss any of his reaction, of his emotions.

"I guess I was right." Hoseok stopped at the last painting. It was the lake and the old willow and stars in the dark sky. He turned to look at you, eyes shining brightly. "It helped you. Healed you."

"It did." You admitted and took one more step towards him.

There was so much you wished you could say. So much you wanted to show him. But now that you stood before him, every words, every needs just vanished except one: the need to kiss him.

Hoseok watched you carefully, scrutinizing your face. "You were awake." It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. "Of course you did."

"I did."

"Will you listen to my confession again, then?" Hoseok inhaled sharply as by the end of his question, you had grabbed his hand and thus taking him quite off guard. His eyes averted from your pretty face to your interlaced fingers. God, this touch - he had missed it.

"Well," A wicked smile spread on your lips as you took a final step towards him. You were close, almost feeling his body against yours. "Tell me more about me and blue dress." And as you kissed his jaw, you added, "And what you wanted to do to me from day one."

[wreckofawriter]

~Part 1~ ~Part 2~

Parings: Sirius Black x Reader, Regulus Black x reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, fist fight, crude language

Summary: Everyone is lost in the world as the man soon to be called the Dark Lord rises to power. Your parents are already ready to give their life along with your own for this man. You spend your seventh year in Hogwarts being pulled apart by the expectations for you and the hope placed in you by your childhood friend Sirius and his closest companions.

A/n: I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but here goes anyway. Sorry for inactivity, I've been struggling to focus. I hope you guys enjoy!

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    James Potter was simply exhausting. His voice rang in your ears unpleasantly and each time he threw his arm around your shoulder you had to resist punching him in the nose. Unfortunately, there was no escape. The moment he heard you had accepted Dumbledore's offer he had taken the liberty of being your personal owl. Every bit of information you were given about the Order was passed to you through him. His preppy attitude became tiresome quickly and it didn’t take long for you to picture yourself breaking his glasses with your knuckles every time he appeared in front of you.

    You knew it was really jealousy eating you alive not anger but the hatred remained the same. You had never much liked the head boy. He was privileged in a way no other was. You had the money he had but you got the pain that came with it. His full childhood and easy life made your blood turn green with envy. 

    He didn’t seem to catch on.

    “You should come to my quidditch game on Sunday.” James mused beside you his arm rested on your head. 

    The thin thread of your sanity had been torn apart by worries and anxieties. You couldn’t seem to think straight recently as strange dreams you couldn’t quite remember ravaged your mind. You felt like you were thrust into a poisonous haze.

    “It would be really fun,” He continued not noticing your unstable state of mind, “You could see what a badass I am on the pitch.” The wink he threw at you made all that uncomfortable envy you had been holding spill out in front of you. How dare he flirt with you while you were thinking about your very plausible death?

    You stepped away from him fast enough to make him stumble, your books drawn to your chest, “Do you have anything related to the Order to speak to me about?” You spat.

    James suddenly noticed the anger you exhibited, his doe eyes blowing wide for a small moment. He reached for his glasses fidgeting with them for a moment, “Only one thing.”

    “Then say it.” You muttered.

    James didn’t argue, “Dumbldeore wants you at the meeting tonight. No else one but Remus, Peter, Sirius and I know.”

    “What time?”

    “Midnight. You know where.” 

    You nodded curtly turning to leave. You stopped in your tracks turning back towards the curly-haired boy, “Just because I’m friends with Sirius doesn’t mean I’m friends with you.” 

    James felt his face crumble, you didn’t speak another word to him disappearing from his view as you headed towards your class. 

    Remus watched as you chewed on your nails, their polish chipped and uneven, “Are you alright?” he whispered.

    You froze for a moment, “Oh I'm fine, just a bit nervous.” 

    He nodded, taking you half-assed answer and going back to side-eyeing you skeptically. A few minutes passed and you only continued to look worse and worse, your face seeming to pale as seconds ticked by.

    Remus sighed, “Look if you’re worried about the meeting tonight, you’ll be fine. You’ve got James, Sirius and I at your side. Not to mention Dumbledore.” 

    “It’s not that.” You mumbled, “Look I’m fine okay, just…” your sentence trailed into nothing and Remus didn’t want to pry. So instead he watched you suffer, not sure what had you biting your lip raw but wishing he could help you. 

You knew he would be waiting for you. He always was on Fridays, then the two of you would walk back to the dungeons for your little gathering with psychopaths and killers. 

Regulus had his back pressed against the wall next to your classroom, his hands were stuffed into his pockets, eyes on the ground. 

“Hey, Reg.” You grinned watching as he looked up to find you.

His smile was soft as he approached you, not even asking as he swept the books from your hands. 

“I can carry them myself.” you huffed.

“I know.” He shrugged, “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

You felt a smile twitch on your lips, “You’re such a gentleman Reg! How do you not have a girlfriend?”

His face erupted with color, “Anyway. The meeting is canceled today.”

The rush of relief that you felt kept you from picking up the intentional switch of conversation. You felt suddenly at peace, the world had stilled. You felt comforted and safe like you had been laid down onto clean bed sheets. 

“Oh.” You tried to remain stoic. 

Regulus nodded, his eyes flickering around you, almost as if he was scared. You frowned but spoke nothing of it. The air was suddenly tense, the strange electricity of it almost startling you.

Regulus cleared his throat before speaking, “Actually y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a walk with me?” 

You scrunched your brows, “A walk?” 

“Y-yeah, I heard it was supposed to be super pretty out with all the snow and everything.” He explained, “If you don’t want to it’s fine.” he added quickly afterwards.

You shrugged, “Why not? Sounds fun. I haven’t been out in a while.”

You felt a swell of joy watching his face blossom into a wide smile, his face seemed rosy with happiness. You momentarily forgot that he was your enemy, that he was on your opposing side. At that moment he was just Regulus. Adorable, smiling, happy Regulus. 

“Great.” He spoke but you hardly heard him over the sudden admiration which took root in your stomach. 

You giggled feeling light on your feet, “You’re so cute Reggy.” you cooed before disappearing into your common room.

Regulus almost dropped your books, his cheeks gleaming red. 

It was beautiful out. You had never been one for cold weather but the soft blanket of snow which coated the castle and its ground made you reconsider. The sun was casting small shadows around you, it’s gleam turning the snow into rainbow glitter. You marveled at your surroundings, feet shuffling through the fluffy snow as you walked beside Regulus. 

“It’s gorgeous.” You mumbled eyes flirting around the vast desert of white. 

Regulus hummed in agreement, his gaze dancing between you and his feet.

You set out towards the lake, a few third years attempting to skate atop it, “This was a really good idea Reg.” you said bumping his shoulder with your own. 

“Thanks.” He responded sheepishly, “How are your classes going?”

“I’m so bad at Transfiguration it's a miracle I'm passing.” You groaned, “How about you?”

He shrugged, “FIne, a bit more work than last year but it's not too much.” 

You sighed, “You are way too smart for your own good, I think you took all of your brother’s brain cells.”

Regulus laughed, breath coming out in puffs in the cool air. 

“I swear he is an idiot. I mean he slept with Pearl and then I had to deal with it. Can you believe that? Pearl. The kindest person alive.” You complained, lips pulling into a pout.

“What is your relationship with Sirius anyway?” the dark-haired boy asked suddenly.

You tilted your head slightly, “What do you mean?” 

He looked away from you, “After everything he did you’re still friends with him, I just don’t get it.” 

You felt your lips twitch downwards, “I’ve known him forever. I can’t just throw him out.” 

“I could. I was his brother and I could.” Regulus spoke bitterly.

You felt your chest clench, “Don’t say that. He’s still your brother.” 

He sighed, “You need to look at the future. After school, Sirius isn’t going to be part of your life anymore. I think you need to accept that.”

You stopped. A cold wind blew your hair from your face, the atmosphere was stiff. “Don’t tell me who will and won’t be in my life.” You stated plainly, “I will decide that.”

Regulus had turned back to look at you, his larger form guarding you from the wind which had suddenly picked up. “You’re right.” He said, “But it's something you need to think about.” 

No matter how much you wished he was wrong, he knew he wasn’t. Your life was split in two, the straight path your parents had paved for you suddenly forked away. You were standing just before them, unsure which way you should walk. You needed to make a decision, you couldn’t linger too long and risk losing both options. 

You straighten your shoulder, “I know.”

Regulus nodded and you both began to walk leaving the strange tension behind. 

“Hows quidditch? You guys still practicing in the weather?” you spoke, the switch of conversation fast.

“We’re still practicing, I like it though.” He uttered, “It’s really fun.”

You hummed, “Well that’s good.”

Regulus paused for a moment, “I know you’re not big on quidditch but I was actually wondering if you would go to my match on Sunday.” 

Your thoughts flashed to James that morning, “I don’t know, I mean-”

“You don’t have to.” He cut you off, “I just thought it would be nice to have you there.”

The gentle smile on his lips as he spoke of you broke the small walls you had built, “I’ll go.”

His grin widened, “Really?”

“From what I’ve heard you're pretty good,” You smirked, “You better win.” Just as you finished your sentence something cold and wet hit the back of your head, you shrieked as the snow melted down your back turning swiftly to see Sirius standing a few dozen meters away. It was clear he was cackling, his form doubled over in laughter. 

“You bitch!” You hollered running towards him, hands scooping up some of the snow as you neared him. His laughter was cut off as you nailed him in the chin, snow spraying over his face. His eyes went wide and you giggled reaching for more snow. Before you could act he was lunging at you, body colliding with you as you hit the powder with a thump. Snow splayed around you, some landing on your face and beginning to melt. You attempted to move only to realize Sirius had pinned you to the ground. 

“I win.” He grinned down at you, his hair speckled with white. 

You frowned, “You cheated.”

“You’re just a sore loser,” he argued standing up and offering you a hand which you took.

You shook your head, “Shut up cheater.” 

Your mind wandered back to the younger black brother quickly. You turned to find that he had disappeared, the only evidence of his presence the footprints he had left behind. For some reason the lonely prints made your heart squeeze uncomfortably in your chest.

Midnight came in minutes. It seemed like each time you blinked an hour had past and the sun had disappeared before you could even reminisce about its glow. The stars were hidden by deep grey clouds that night. Snow had begun to fall heavily as you made your way towards the room of requirement. The windows were iced delicately by jack frost as slopes of white hid in their sills. You held your robes close to your chest heart-thumping recklessly within. The empty corridors were cold as if you had walked through a ghost. 

You climbed the stairs of the dungeon and beyond, the portraits murmuring and snoring around you. You felt yourself wishing for someone at your side. You missed Regulus’ comforting presence, his footprints still causing a small ache within you. 

The seventh floor was just as dead as the rest of the castle, its silence deafening in your ears as snowflakes pelted the windows around you. You paced slowly, your heartbeat growing louder and louder with each echoing step. You continued to think of the secret meeting room, James’s advice ringing in your ears. 

The stone began to move in an instant, a door appearing before you. It handle a rusted gold. You reached forward sucking in a breath and pushing the old oak open, its hinges creaked and you were bathed in a warm light. A dozen sets of eyes locked on you.

“Ah y/n, you’re here.” 

You nodded stiffly, eyes flirting from your professor back to the faces of your peers. There was not a single green robe among them, red overpowering everything else. You gulped at the looks of disgust you received, lips turned into grimaces, and eyes narrowed or blown wide in surprise.

You searched desperately for Sirius, but his grey eyes were not among the crowd. Neither was the soft hazel of Remus. Even James’ deep brown was missing. You felt your hands begin to shake, stuffing them into your pocket before anyone could notice. 

A blonde in red was the first to speak, standing from her chair she advanced towards you, fire in her gaze, “What the hell are you doing here you fucking death eater?” 

You felt like you lost oxygen, you were there to help, didn’t she know that? Suddenly there was an arm around your shoulder. 

You glanced up to see Sirius, his eyes narrowed at the girl in front of you. Remus fell to your other side, arms crossed lazily. James stood just behind you, a soft pat on your back telling you. Peter stood to Remus’ right.

“She’s here at great personal risk, not that it's any of your business Mckinnon,” Sirius spoke, his voice strong and unwavering as he stared down the glaring girl. 

“She’s a purist.” The blonde hissed, “She’s a murder. She can’t be here.”

You stiffened, “I’m not a purist.” you spoke, relieved your voice wasn’t shaking, “And I sure as hell never killed anyone.” 

Suddenly a Ravenclaw lept from her seat. She shouldered past Marleen and lunged at you, “Lair!” she shrieked. 

You stumbled as she collided with you, hitting James and toppling over. The girl reached for your hair and tugged on it as her other hand scratched at your face. A nail digging into your skin as yells broke out around you. Sirius tackled the girl holding her to the ground as Dumbledore swiftly stepped between you.

“Your parents killed my brother you bitch! They are filthy murderers just like you!” her voice ringing loud in your ears you felt blood drip into your left eye, the world spinning in red as you tried to recall what had just happened. 

“Murdering whore, fucking cunt!” 

“Shut up!” Sirius hollard, his hand slamming roughly over her mouth and muffeling the cusses she threw at you. 

You sat up attempting to wipe the blood from your face. You could see James beside you on the floor, his attempt to catch you only gaining him an awkward fall. Remus bent down to your level,

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice seemed far away like he was deep underwater.

Your hand went to cradle the back of your head and you winced, “My head hurts,” you mumbled.

Remus cringed, “You might have a minor concussion. You hit your head pretty hard.”

You could hear more yelling, you felt your senses slowly coming back to you like someone had wiped the fog from your vision. 

“Y/n/n, can you follow my finger?” Remus asked and you nodded. His finger lined in front of your head, you followed it back and forth before the brunette was satisfied. 

“I think I’ve got blood on my face.” You mumbled, each time you swiped your hand across your forehead it came back red. 

“You definitely do, that girl scratched the hell out of you.” Remus leaned forward, his hand coming on contact with the fresh cut and you hissed. 

You heard voices behind you 

“We can’t trust her!” 

“She’s giving up more than you could imagine to be here! To help us!”

“Except she’s not!” 

“She’s lying! She is going to ruin us!”

Your head ached with each word the blood wasn't stopping, more and more dripping from the long cut in your forehead. You scrubbed at your eyes everything was going wrong. You were going to be thrown out, you were going to have your choice made for you. Again. The small amount of control you had gained in your life would be ripped from you. You pushed Remus away from you getting to your feet, stars blinking in your vision as the blood rushed to your head. 

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, the air stolen from your lungs, you gapped helplessly grasping at your stomach. You glanced up in time to see the boy who had punched you. His second stroke landed on your cheek before you could raise your hands and you hit the ground with a loud thud. 

“That’s for my mother you bitch.” He spat.

Your body collided with the floor in slow motion and Sirius’s vision went red. The Yellow robed boy standing over you with a triumphant smile making his blood run cold. He was across the room in record time, his fist connecting with the side of the boy’s face with a yell. Teeth and blood sprayed from his mouth and he fell to the floor. Sirius was on top of him in an instant landing four more punches on the unconscious student.

James lept into action snatching the dark-haired boy by the waist and tackling him off the other boy. Sirius fought him yelling incoherent sentences as he tried to shove the quidditch star away from him.

“Pads! Calm down!” 

“He fucking hit her! He hit her twice, get the fuck off me, I’m going to make him pay.” Just as he finished his sentence his eyes got droopy, his head falling limp as the struggle stopped. 

Lily stood next to him, her wand pointed at the sleeping boy. 

James looked around, the daze of what had happened settling in uncomfortably. Three bodies lay on the floor, each leaking blood onto the carpet of the large room. The students turned to Dumbledore whose eyes were uncharacteristically wide. 

“I think it's time I explain some things.” He muttered. 

You stood motionlessly in front of the painting. Its colors seemed dulled and greyed. Your father stood behind the chair where your mother was seated, both wearing blank stares. You sat beside your mother, face chubby with baby fat, hair cut at your shoulders. Your hands were bandaged in white. The living room reeked of something you couldn’t quite place. The smell making you gag on the air around you. You could feel yourself slipping into some strange obscurity of the world. The scent suddenly became clear. Copper invaded your nose as you choked on blood. Crimson bled from the painting dripping down the expensive wallpaper and pooling on the hardwood floor. You hoped it wouldn’t reach the rug as you rushed to clean the mess before your mother saw. The blood didn’t stop as you scrambled to soak it up with your clothes, the white gown you wore stained with the liquid. Suddenly your hands feel through nothing and you were plunged into a pool of warm red. 

You woke suddenly. Eyes popping open to stare at the white ceiling above you. The room was dark, your eyes slowly adapting to the lack of lighting. You sat up slowly, an ache in your stomach making you hiss. You glanced around you, eyes landing on a mop of black of hair which rested on your bed. Sirius was seated in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on his arms which were folded in front of him. You felt a smile twitch on your lips as he snored softly. 

Your cheek felt numb and puffed, you raised your hand to it and yelped as a sharp pain shot through you.

Sirius bolted upright, “Are you okay?” He asked his voice gravelly with sleep. 

“I’m fine Siri.” You mumbled eyes landing on the white bandages which wrapped his knuckles. You sighed taking his hands into your own, thumb running over the stark white. “What did you do?” 

Sirius wouldn’t meet your eyes, “He punched you. Twice.” 

“How many times did you punch him?” you huffed.

The room stayed silent, you looked up at Sirius to see his eyes locked on your intertwined hands. He hesitated for a moment more. 

“Five times. James pulled me off him.”

“I’ll thank him tomorrow.” You murmured, “I’m tired.” 

“Me too.” 

You began to move, Sirius watched as you pushed yourself to one side of the small hospital bed, “You’re not sleeping in that chair idiot. The last thing I need is you bitching about your back.” 

Sirius smiled, slipping off his shoes and crawling next to you. He could feel your thigh brushing against his as you shifted to face him. His eyes widened when he saw the gloss of your eyes. 

“Why couldn’t it just be easy?’ You whimpered, “I just wanted something to work out for once. I can’t even do the right thing without getting punched.”  

Sirius didn’t know what to say, his words caught in his throat as you looked up at him, a tear melting down your cheek. Sirius let the words he wanted to speak die and instead wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. 

God how he wishes things were easy. 

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Masterlist

[alirhi]

22

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 22/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. Notes: Due to massive levels of incoherent rage at the thought of what they did in Thor: Ragnarok, I have decided to pull from actual Norse mythology again. Everything after The Avengers has been erased in this fic, anyway, so fuck it. Hel and Fenrir are Loki's children as it always should be.

Loki sighed, head resting on Bucky's chest as he basked in the simple joy of hearing his beloved's heart still beating. "I hope you know that you're not allowed to ever die on me again."

"Technically, I haven't died yet at all."

He frowned, pinching Bucky's side and making him laugh. "I mourned you for nearly fifty years, James, and it almost destroyed me."

"Loki..." It was Bucky's turn to sigh as he pushed the Trickster off of him and they both sat up. "Serum or no serum, I'm still human. Eventually, I'm gonna grow old and die. That's just the way it works."

"I don't want you to." Feeling like a child, tears choking him that he refused to shed and Bucky's hands gripping his, Loki shook his head. "I can't lose you again."

With that sad smile he was so sick of looking at, Bucky squeezed his hands a little tighter. "You lived over a thousand years without me, Doll. You'll be okay. You've got Sigyn-"

"I hardly think that's relevant." Prying his hands loose, he wiped furiously at his eyes. "Especially since, if the oaf can't sway Odin, I'll likely never see her again, either. Or my other children."

It was truly beginning to sink in, just how much Loki had sacrificed in his mad scramble to rescue Bucky, and he could tell from the stricken look on his lover's face that it was hitting him, as well. A grown man – a God– and he'd behaved like a reckless child ever since he'd first discovered his soldier alive. He'd succeeded, at last, but at what cost? If his actions left him forever on the run from Asgard, he would never see his wife and sons again; his one consolation was that at least he had his daughters. Hel ruled her own realm and answered to no one, least of all Odin, and Eira... He would die before letting anyone take Eira away from him.

"Jesus, Loki..." Bucky winced, pulling him closer for a hug. "Nari, Fenrir... I'm sorry, I can't pronounce the snake's name-"

That got a half-hearted laugh out of the Trickster, and he laid his head on Bucky's broad shoulder. "Jormungandr. It's alright, love, I'm impressed you remember any of them."

"I get headaches," he admitted softly, "when I try to push too hard, but it's coming back." Arms tightening around the other man, he murmured, "There's a lot I'd rather never think about again, but I don't want to lose a single memory I have with you."

"Don't force it," Loki cautioned as gently as he could, bringing one hand up to tangle in that beautiful dark hair. "It will come back; a remarkable amount already has. Just be patient."

"...Nari," Bucky whispered, shaking his head. "Fenrir, Sleipnir, Jor...Jormun... Can I just call him Joey? I know that's not how the J is pronounced, but his name does start with a J, technically... Right?"

At that, Loki buried his face in Bucky's shoulder and laughed so hard he couldn't breathe. "I would pay to see the look on Jormungandr's face if he ever actually heard you call him Joey!"

"Loki, I'm being serious!"

"About 'Joey'?" He could hear the grin and the suppressed laughter in his beloved's voice, so he didn't feel bad for being unable to contain his hysterical laughter.

"About your kids." He didn't sound amused anymore. With a firm grip on Loki's shoulders, he pushed him back to look him in the eye, and the atmosphere instantly shifted. Expression pained, Bucky reminded him, "What you lost, for me... If you can't fix this, you'll lose your whole damn family. Did you think I was just reciting their names trying to remember them all for a fucking Christmas card or something? Eira's brothers, her sister, her step-mom... Your whole family, everything you built before we met... My God..."

"Yes." His attempt at a snarky, slightly cheesy retort fell flat even to his own ears, but Loki still tried. Prying one strong hand from his shoulder and cradling it between his own, he told him, "I am your God. As for my children... Sleipnir was already taken from me long ago. I'm not sure he even knows I'm his mother."

"Christ, Doll, that makes the rest of this worse!"

"I haven't 'lost' anything." Freyja, how he wished he believed what he was saying. All that mattered at the moment, though, was that Bucky believed it, and so he soldiered on. "Not yet. Odin is a stubborn old fool, but he is old. Worst case scenario, if I can't return home without ending up in chains while he lives, well... he'll die soon and Thor will take the throne despite my best efforts – I really had a lot on my plate when last the Sergeant and I met – and because he's sentimental and forgiving, I'll be welcomed back with open arms."

"'Home'?"

He blinked, confused. "What?"

For someone with such a remarkably expressive face, Bucky could, on occasion, be difficult to read. With the most curious look that Loki couldn't quite identify, he pointed out quietly, "You still call Asgard 'home.'"

He scoffed and shrugged. "Force of habit, I suppose. Best not to read too much into it, darling."

"Right." There was a brief moment of tense silence, and then Bucky, bless his strange mind, smiled and nudged him. "Look, thanks to the serum, I don't really get sick anymore. So as long as the purple menace doesn't lop my head off, you've still got decades before you have to worry about me croaking on you."

Though he appreciated the effort, Loki couldn't quite bring himself to share his love's optimism. After all, what were decades to a being who would live for millennia? Rather than point that out, though, he focused on the other troubling fact: "James, Thanos is dangerous."

"Why, because he kicked your skinny ass?" he teased. "Or, to be more accurate, his minions kicked your skinny ass. Did Thanos actually do anything? How do you know he wants anything nefarious with these magic doohickeys?"

"Because one man amassing ultimate power has never been for the benefit of others, no matter how they delude themselves for the sake of remaining the heroes in their own stories." Giving him a bland look, Loki grumbled, "One would think a World War II veteran would understand that better than most."

Still clinging desperately to his attempt at humor, Bucky shrugged. "Hey, I'm still holding out hope on the kitten theory. You can't deny the world would be a better place if everyone had their own adorable kitty to spoil."

Finally, finally Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll tell you what, darling... Survive what's coming with sanity intact, and I'll get you a kitten myself."

Bucky snorted. "Oh, baby, the sanity ship has sailed. Are you kidding me?"

"The best you can manage, then," he amended with a soft, sad smile. "Just stay close to me, so I can keep you safe."

Watching the other man's expression crumble and all the humor immediately vanish as if it was never there at all, Loki wished he'd never spoken a word.

"No," Bucky told him quietly, but firmly. "I'm sick of constantly being rescued and protected."

"It's not that I think you're weak-"

"Do you remember what I told you when you wanted to stay and fight just so we could be together?"

He did, though he failed to see its relevance. Still, to prove to Bucky that he was paying attention, he dutifully recited his own words back to him. "'You're outside of all this and that's where I need you to stay.' But neither of us is 'outside' of this one-" He was interrupted by his lover snorting and rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Not that part." Shifting position slightly so that he and Loki were facing each other directly without either having to twist, he took the Trickster's soft hands in his own - one rough and callused, the other chilly and unyielding - and reminded him, "'You make me weak. If I see you out there, you'll get me killed.' Well, babe, this time neither of us gets to walk away, so we both need to be focused on the enemy, not each other. Don't waste energy trying to protect me. Having to protect Eira got you both captured. When the war comes, just fight it, and trust that I can look out for myself."

That was a terrifying proposition. Enhanced by mad science or not, Bucky was still only human. The thought of him standing alone and fighting Thanos or one of his psychotic minions with no powers was enough to make Loki sick to his stomach. Perhaps it would be best to leave Bucky in New Mexico with Darcy and Eira; after all, run-of-the-mill human dangers didn't simply vanish because a bigger threat loomed. They would need someone to look after them, as well, and Bucky could certainly handle some random thug looking to cause trouble.

He opened his mouth to suggest it, but his thoughts must have been showing on his face. A metal hand clamped over his mouth before he could utter a sound and Bucky snapped, "You're not sidelining me. Purple Space Hitler calls for all hands on deck, so deal with it."

With a sigh, Loki batted his hand away and shook his head. "You really are the most stubborn creature, James."

___________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[trademarknickersoncharm]

Here's your angst bro

He kept running, past the door, past the steps and the sidewalk.  He lost his footing, or his legs gave out, and his knees and palms met pavement. 

He gasped and felt fresh air enter his lungs for the first time in, God, months, years?

His hands were shaking uncontrollably, but he could barely see them through blurred eyes.  He could feel tremors starting in his core and traveling the course of his whole body, wracking him uncontrollably.  He managed to focus on the ground ahead of him.  Blood, blood everywhere.  Had he cut his hands, or was it just from…him?  From something else?  God, how much of him was even left?

Behind him the night sky shattered into a million pieces as a momentous explosion erupted from deep within the tower building behind him.  He threw his hands up to shield his head.  The shockwave knocked him back into something, and his vision went black and red for a minute, until it slowly melted into the yellow-orange of the flames consuming the building.

Frank Hardy tried to stand, but his legs weren’t working.  He punched his leg, but he couldn’t even feel it.

Come on!  Get up!  GET UP!  You don’t have much time.

His hands were still shaking.  Dark red.  Was it blood, or was the skin just gone?   He couldn’t remember.  He couldn’t think right, but he hand to.  The drugs, the drugs were still in his system. 

Frank tried to breathe.  It came out in gasps and ended in coughs.  He clung to the object the blast had knocked him into, and tried to steady himself.

Lukewarm metal under his hand.  What was it?  He looked.  It took a second to focus. 

A motorcycle.

Frank dragged himself up, adrenaline kicking back in with a renewed sense of purpose.  His fingers began to fiddle with cords, trying to remember how to hotwire.  He kept fumbling—shocked himself once.  Thank God muscle memory was working, and his hands were doing most of it on their own.  He couldn’t think straight.  His hands.  His hands were the hands of a skeleton.  He could only imagine the rest of himself.

The motorcycle purred to life, and he let out a deep sigh of relief.  Noticing the helmet for the first time, Frank put it on.  Good, it would cover his face.  Maybe he wouldn’t be stopped.

He dragged himself on top of the bike.  Sirens were going off in the distance.  He had to move fast.  No one could still be alive in the building behind him, and he knew for a fact that three of them were dead.  No…Not three.  Three in the room, then two outside, and…another…six?  More? 

Why?  He’d been so focused, but now his memories were falling apart.  It was like the explosion had broken the flimsy wall he’d constructed in his mind to hold his sanity in.  Everything was fading, crumbling.  It was so hard to think.  Joe. 

Frank hit the gas and sped out of the parking lot.

He drove until the gas light came on, and he pulled over in a secluded part of town.  Quiet.  Closed stores.  Apartments nearby.  Vaguely familiar.  He found a wall and parked, and leaned against it.

Joe.  What year was it?  He had to find him!  He had to find Joe.  He had to get help.  ATAC.  Why hadn’t anyone come for him? They had to looking, and if they were, they would be nearby.  But where to start?  He needed new clothes, a disguise.  Something to stop the bleeding.  He had to find Joe—he had to still be alive, he was, he knew it—he had to be.  Where—where to start?  How—

He became aware of something.  Pain?  Worse than normal?  Or was it…

He looked down.  The cut in his side was still slowly letting fluid seep out.  Very slowly, but still.  He had to find a way to stop it.

He couldn’t die.  Not until Joe was safe.

He could find the Embassy…No, no—if Zhiming knew he was alive, they’d know he was coming for them.  If they still had Joe, they might—no, he couldn’t let them know he was alive.  But where?

“Oh my God.  Frank?” 

He looked up, ready to run, or kill the speaker.  When he saw him, he did neither.  He collapsed.  Somehow, his body realized it was okay to do so now, and stopped pretending it could keep him upright.

Ned Nickerson dropped his bag of groceries and ran, cutting his knees open, skidding on the pavement in time to catch him in his arms, and keep Frank’s head from hitting the pavement.

“Frank!  Oh God, what did they do to you?  I’ll call an ambulance, please, just hang on!”

Frank was losing sensations, losing consciousness, but he could see Ned’s panicked face looking down through a haze of grey fog.

“Don’t…Please, you can’t tell anyone I’m alive.  I need you to no…t…or…”  Frank faded out.

  Frank Hardy opened his eyes.  He didn’t recognize the sensation at first.  Comfort.  He was on something soft.  It was warm, and dry.  Something…smelled?  Nice?  The ceiling was white plaster.  Where was he?  What kind of sick trick were they using today?  It wasn’t going to work, he wasn’t—no!

Frank shot upright. 

He’d killed them!  He’d escaped, he had—

“Frank?”

He turned his head.  A familiar face greeted him.  She’d been sitting by the bed; her face held a mixture of extreme emotions.  She looked like she was going to cry.

“N…Nancy?”  His voice.  He hadn’t heard it for a long time.  Until he’d spoken to Ned.  Ned?  He looked up and saw him, standing behind Nancy, looking worried and relieved.

“Frank, oh, I’ve been looking for you!”  Nancy threw her arms around his neck and hugged him—trying her hardest to be gentle.  “For two years!  I never stopped—I knew it, I knew you were alive!”

Frank didn’t hug her back.  He couldn’t remember how, or his arms weren’t responding.  Why?

Tears were streaming down her face and he could feel her chest heaving.  It hurt.  But he didn’t mind.  A different…a different kind of pain.  There were different kinds of pain, that was right.  Some of them were okay.  He’d forgotten.

He looked up and saw Ned.  He could tell he was trying to keep it together, but silent tears were streaming down his face.  A strange sensation welled up in his chest.  For a second he thought he was having a heart attack, because he didn’t remember what it felt like to laugh, but then he was laughing and remembered.  It hurt.  In a good way.  His hand went up slowly and he hugged Nancy with the arm that was easier to move.

Nancy finally let go and pulled back.  Her face was stained with tears.  “Frank, what happened?”

Frank shook his head, trying to put his thoughts together.  “I was…Joe and I.  We had a case, and this man—he, he turned on…He—“suddenly, the memories slammed into his head, as merciless and hard as a sledgehammer.  He reeled backwards, bringing his hand to his face.  Joe.  God, no.  No, no, no.  He saw it.  Bai Guo, grabbing him, the gun—using Joe as a shield.  He’d shot Frank.  He shot me…No…no, no, no, no…no.  God please, no.  Through Joe.  He saw the gun flash, the bullet tearing through Joe’s chest, slamming into him after killing his brother.  Killing? 

“No!”

“Frank, Frank what’s wrong?”  He felt Nancy’s hand on his shoulder.

“It can’t.”  He finally broke.  One second of facing reality did what two years of physical and psychological torture couldn’t.  The memory of Joe—he hadn’t meant to accept it.  But he finally had.  And his mind shattered with the wall of denial he’d fought to keep up.

  He didn’t remember much from those few days.  He remembered crying.  He remembered memories, or nightmares, all sorts of contorted things in his head.  Thoughts—images.  Real, not real?  Who knew.  They destroyed him, a piece at a time.  He remembered the memories of Joe the week before it had happened, watching Jumanji on the plane, Joe completely wasting his opportunity to try Chinese cuisine by requesting McDonalds.  And, God, had he really been so mean to him?  Had he had to make fun of him for that?  Couldn’t he have just smiled at him, one more time?  Couldn’t he have said something else to him, with his last words?  Why did they have to be “Don’t mess this up?”  Why did they have to be…? 

  He remembered Nancy, and Ned.  They were both there a lot.  Feeding him, healing him.  Looking after him.  But those memories were foggier than the ones inside his head.  They were worried—he’d known that.  But they’d honored his request not to take him to a hospital.  Nancy had called his father, to let him know.  He had held the phone.  He remembered that part clearly.  Nancy’s voice, saying “Fenton?  You might want to sit down.  One of your sons is alive—“He’d cut her off, his dad had, asking about something.  Nancy had tried to say something a few times, but had given up and handed the phone to Frank.

Frank remembered it so clearly, taking the phone. His dad’s voice.

“Frank?  Joe?”

Which one.  “Frank.”  He’d answered.  Speaking the word had hurt.  If it could have just been the other name.

“Frank?  Oh, Frank, thank God it’s you.”

“Thank God it’s you.”

He’d hung up.  Nancy had called his dad back, explained Frank wasn’t doing so well, convinced him not to tell anyone his son was alive.  She’d seemed to have been successful, but Frank hadn’t cared. 

Thank God it’s you.

[myzoowiktoriaizydorczyk]

Amnesia The Game Trilogy

Amnesia is a Trilogy of Games, the first one being “Amnesia: The Dark Descent”(2010), then “Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs”(2013) and the last one “Amnesia: Rebirth” (2020)

“Frictional Games” is the studio that developed the first and the third game in the Amnesia series. They started out in 2007 as a virtual company of 25 employees around Europe, later on they set up an office in Malmö,Sweden which consists of half of these employees and interns.

“The Chinese Room” is the studio that developed “The Dark Descent”, the company originated as a mod team for Half Life 2 based in University of Portsmouth in 2007, in 2018 they became a subsidiary of Sumo Digital.

About

All of the Amnesia games are first person perspective survival horror adventures, all of the protagonists are amnesiacs that explore mysterious and dangerous locations while solving puzzles, maintaining sanity and avoiding monsters. Even though this is a horror game, there are only few jump scares - the game relies on music and atmosphere to manipulate the players mind into making the games scarier than they actually are.

The player has to avoid and run away from enemies since there is no way of fighting back. The locations are usually dark so you are forced to carry around a lantern and light up torches you find, if you do not do that then the character’s sanity will decrease and eventually lead to death.

Each of the games is taking place in a different locations and at a different point in time, there is also a different protagonist in all of the games.��The main protagonist wakes up in a abandoned location, with no clue of what they are doing there. They explore the are and find their own items, notes and diary entries of his own dairy. As they collects those items he starts to remember what happened.

Amnesia: The Dark Descent

Story

The protagonist - Daniel -goes on an expedition to Africa in 1832 to find an Orb which has supernatural powers and has influenced history of Britan. During the expedition he finds it, however the floor collapses and he is later on rescued by Arab Diggers. He is forced to come back to England, however his team suddenly disappears, Daniel then realises that everyone he comes in contact with dies soon after his visit. Paranoid that he is next, he manages to find help from Alexander of Brennenburg.

Turns out that Alexander is torturing animals and humans to extract an essence (”vitae”) which is used to activate the orb, he manipulates Daniel into helping him to kidnap and torture people as doing this will free him of the “Shadow” that is killing everyone around him, but in turn he can use the orb for his own purposes.

Daniel get’s filled with guilt as he realises what he is doing, he decides that he wants to start anew without those horrible images so he drinks a poison that causes amnesia - only leaving him self a not with his name, his willingness to forget, and resolve to kill Alexander for what he has done. This is where the game begins. 

Then he is on a quest of escaping form the “Shadow” and trying to prevent Alexander from completing his ritual but most importantly to kill him.

Trailer

I like how the trailer started zooming in on a colapsed tunnel, they tried to build tension but It would have worked better if they had music building up there. Instead they bump up the music when they show the character wandering around the castle, even though there is nothing there the tension builds up but it’s ruined  they cut between two different locations, the music just stops and changes to a different one.

After the character jumps into a hole it blacks out after a while to show a chase scene - it would have made more sense if it switched instantly mid jump. 

Then again after an intense scene the character just walks infront of an enemy and crouches there staring at him - which makes no sense. This trailer would have made more sense if they decided not to show the enemies which would have created a intrigued people and made them want to buy the game.

Amnesia: A Machine For Pigs

Story

In 1899, the protagonist Oswald Mandus returned from a disastrous expedition to Mexico, he was hit by fever and has returned home. He falls asleep for months, he dreams of a dark machine until he wakes up - when he does he hears his children calling for him.

During his search Mandus hears a machine, then a phone calls him to tell him that if he wishes to save his children he needs to repair the machine. When he manages to do so, he realises that he has been betrayed as he has killed his children before falling asleep and the voice was his other half of his soul that is combined with the machine. 

The machine unleashes an army of pigment into London, Oswald then goes and destroys the machine learning that he killed his children after seeing a vision of their death in WW1. He then destroys the machine, dying along with it. 

Trailer

This trailer starts off with a child talking which is always a scary feature to add to a trailer, aspecially if like in this cas, there is a demonic muffled voice talking along with them. They use those high pitched sounds and build the tension from the very start, which is absolutely great, then they do a montage of locations that switches in the rythm of the music.

One of these scenes I find hilarious as they show that the protagonist is starting to pull a lever, but then they suddenly stops - this is because in Amnesia games a lot of people struggle with interacting with things such as doors, levers etc. as the mechanic of that seems a little broken: they could have easily redone that moment and they would only waste 5 seconds.

After the exploration of the locations, they do a well executed transition from calm to sneaking around in absolute since with no music but horrifying sounds of the pigman. Unlike in the previous trailer, this time they don’t show the monster which is amazing as they make the player scared just using the noise and saving the suprise of seeing it for themself.

Amnesia: Rebirth

Story

This game is set in 1937, Anastasie “Tasi” Trianon wakes up in a crashed plane in an Algerian dessert. She searches for her missing companions, as she travels she finds notes that give her back the memories. She discovers that she has a relic that can make her jump into other realities and then she remembers that she is pregnant. 

She ends up at an abandoned French fort, the military killed for unknown reason. She remembers they were here before, she manages to find a radio and contacts one of the survivors who tells her to go to a village nearby. However the building crumbles and she falls deeper into the ruins, she has to avoid ghouls which try to attack and kill her. She finds her self in the alien world, where she learns that the ghouls are there hunting her since they want to capture them and create “vitae” to extend their lives. But the world was destroyed  and “Shadows” have emerged, these shadows decided to chase after Tasi as she had to use an Orb to return to her reality. 

After returning her pregnancy developed few months, she discovers the remains of an expedition from the first game. As she is about to rift to the village, the shadows cause her to go to the alienworld where she discovers that her child is really sick, a spirit tells her that vitae can cure her child ( players choice), she also discovers that the spirit was the ruler of that land but an uprising stood against her which destroyed the other world. 

She finally finds the village but her pregnancy developed once more and everyone there is dead, she enters a tower where one of her companions is turning into a ghoul - the ghoul dies by the hand of her other companion and Tasi gives birth in a nearby cave but they steal her relic and her child. 

She runs into the other world, she remembers that the spirit offered to save the group after the crash in exchange for the baby. When Tasi denied, the spirit tricked them into drinking a fountain that infected them and started causing them to turn into ghouls - hence why taxi’s companion stole the child, to bargain for a cure.

Tasi kills her companion and is faced with a choice weather or not to give up her child to the spirit or not. Leaving her would mean that the child would live, however taking her means that she would eventually die.

Trailer

This trailer shifts from the crashed plane and the protagonist exploring the mysterious ruins around her. As the man in the radio get’s more desperate, the protagonists starts panting and runnining for her life the music builds up until it suddenly stops when she gets trapped.

After a few seconds with no music, we are blasted with it, there is so much of different sounds that you cannot wrap your head around them - this represents how the protagonists must feel as she is once again fighting for sutvival

sources:

https://amnesia.fandom.com/wiki/Amnesia:_The_Dark_Descent

https://amnesia.fandom.com/wiki/Amnesia:_A_Machine_for_Pigs

https://amnesia.fandom.com/wiki/Amnesia:_Rebirth

https://frictionalgames.com/about-frictional/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chinese_Room

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1nY_5-UrY4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZV6Fwx_Sf4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NiQAlGUw_o

[saladejin]

Changing States | Jimin

Jimin x Reader | non idolverse au, husband!Jimin |  Fluff, crack-ish, slight angst

Summary: You receive a much needed comfort after one of the worst days in history. Well... your history anyway. 

Warnings: Mention of a pregnancy loss.

Word Count: 3k 

* Request from my Ao3 series ‘Movie Night’.

~

Sometimes people liked to call it waking up on the wrong side of the bed. You preferred to label it as just a bad day, nothing to worry about usually, yet now you were rethinking everything.

Today, your entire bed seemed to be on the wrong side of the room.

You awoke to the sound of loud machinery and boisterous yelling filtering in from the window. Blinking the sleep away, you inwardly cursed for forgetting to get the uneven windowsill fixed up yet again. Now you would have to deal with the noise from the construction site next door without being able to complain about it because it was your scatterbrain that had left you to suffer in silence.

You let your eyes flutter shut and extended one arm towards the other half of the bed, desperate for the warm body that would usually be there but only meeting the cold, dreary bedsheets with your fingertips.

That’s right, he has to work extra early hours today.

You sat up slowly, letting your eyes trail over the hauntings of a crease he had left in the smooth fabric. You couldn’t help but roll over to rest your face into his plush pillow, trying to catch the last tendrils of his scent that was made up of a million different things. The things that made you feel secure and bolted to the ground, whether it be his aromatic shampoo or the light cologne he’d worn the previous day.

It hadn’t been the best morning so far, but you knew he would have made it perfect if he’d only been by your side. Being your source of motivation to get going, or something.

You got to your feet and padded into the bathroom to make yourself somewhat presentable. Your brows were still twitching from the obnoxious noise outside, and the fact that they’d brought in a big reversing truck had amped the annoyance level. Repetitive beeping was a big no for your sanity at the moment.

“Two more weeks,” you sighed and tried to angle your lips upwards into a smile, just for the sake of feeling brighter in mind and spirit.

Then, the smile vanished as a high pitched shriek tore from your throat. The big fat hairy spider sitting on your mirror didn’t move, but you did.

“What the fuck!” You growled, eyeing the creature and clenching at your heart over your shirt to stop it from racing. It was so big you were almost too afraid to try getting rid of it. Usually you could whip out the fly spray or get a cup and a sheet of paper to let it outside, but this one was giving you eyes.

“Nope.”

You let the bathroom door click shut and let your head rest against the wood with an audible thump. It was still morning, but already you’d been through about twelve of your most detested emotions of all time.

I’ll let Jimin deal with it when he gets home.

You left the spider to its own devices and made your way into the kitchen for some food. Luckily for you, the milk had expired and your coffee machine had decided to overflow and ooze its weird concoction of water, caffeine and sugar straight onto your tiles. Tiles which had been freshly mopped not two days ago, mind you.

You reminded yourself to feel thrilled that it hadn’t been on the carpet instead.  

You could only sigh again and began moving your feet to get the cleaning stuff from the cupboard. The sound of the machine dripping occasionally followed you the entire way, and that, coupled with everything else that had gone down so far, landed you the biggest headache you could possibly imagine.

You weren’t hungover, but if things continued the way they were then it wouldn’t be long before you’d be setting yourself up for something similar. Your phone buzzed a while later and you perked up at the message from your best friend. She’d suddenly invited you out for lunch, but you didn’t know how to feel.

I’ve been kicked out of the bathroom and I haven’t had much to eat. I’ll look like trash and be grumpy as hell, but hey at least it’ll take my mind off everything for a while.

~

Newsflash, it hadn’t helped.

You watched in shock as your friend beamed at you from her seat in the café. Your coffee had been served unnaturally cold, and then when you’d sent it back they had returned with a completely wrong order altogether. You could barely keep your fragile sense of civility together for the nervous looking waiter, but whenever you felt yourself about to snap you just imagined Jimin’s heart-warming smile and the words he would always speak in moments of amounting stress.

“It’ll be alright baby, you’ll get through it.”

Now, the aforementioned shock was stemming from your friend and colleague. The friend and colleague who had just dropped a bombshell.

“We’ve decided to move interstate! There’s a lovely house on a river we saw and fell in love with,” She smiled excitedly.

“That’s amazing,” You breathed, genuinely feeling happy for her but trying your best to ignore the feelings of sorrow gripping at your heart.

“I’ll be sad to leave you guys and the company, but I’ll come down to visit as often as I can. You okay (Y/n) sweetie?”

You jerked as her hand found yours across the table.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had a bit of a chaotic day. I’m so happy for you,” You smiled, grasping her hand and feeling relieved when she seemed to let the moment pass. You hated yourself for letting the negativity outweigh everything else, but you knew you would easily be feeling elated if had just been a better day.

“I’ll have to show you photos, maybe you two will be inspired to look for another place somewhere too,” She smiled tenderly, knowing you and Jimin had always wanted to venture out into the world to find the perfect spot. Work had overtaken many things so far in your married lives, but seeing your friend finally break free did make you feel hopeful for a change.

Feeling encouraged by your thoughtful and optimistic expression, your friend continued.

“Just a nice little place with a perfect temperature for like, everything! Wouldn’t it be great to even live close together? Our families and kids could share so many memories.”

Your smile dropped and your best friend suddenly let her voice die in her throat, realising she’d brought something up she shouldn’t have just yet. It was a little soon.

“Oh shit, (Y/n) I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s fine silly,” You laughed it off, still squeezing her hand to reassure her. Her worried gaze pierced into your own and you felt a tad uncomfortable from all the emotions in your brain running rampant all of a sudden.

“You look under the weather, let me pay your bill,” She offered softly, getting to her feet and prompting you to follow. You were so grateful she was so tuned to your mannerisms, she knew just when you needed a break from it all.

You said your goodbyes after apologising for your miserable appearance once again, finally getting into the car and heaving a massive sigh to rid yourself from the tension. You contemplated calling Jimin, but you knew that he was at work and would likely be busy with getting everything done. He was efficient like that.

“What a shitty person I am, couldn’t even be fucking happy for my friend,” You muttered in shaky annoyance as you started up the car, feeling like you wanted to scream all your anger away into the dashboard. Onlookers be damned, you didn’t care about being judged.

No, just buy some ice cream or something on the way home. You’ll have a better day tomorrow.

More of his words drifted through your memory.

“Keep it together, treat yourself. You deserve happiness.”

A sad smile tugged at your lips and you made it onto the road after promising yourself to feel better. If you hit a low point in your day you could only climb up from it. You told yourself to clear your mind and look forward to what time you had left.

To your chagrin, the positive outlook only lasted so long when you found yourself neck-deep in traffic; the sound of rumbling engines and an occasional beep of a horn being the only sounds greeting your ears for a solid ten minutes.

What the…

Your resolve cracked at the edges and began crumbling.

“Music will help,” Your teeth found your bottom lip as you reached for the radio station buttons, but unfortunately you were only met with white noise and the momentary sound of ads breaking through. You could almost feel the speed of the ice cream melting.

The world became blurry and your grip tightened on the wheel.

~

“I’m home, my love.”

Jimin’s slightly wearied voice echoed through the front hallway as he shuffled through the door, keys thrown onto the bench and coat draped over a nearby bar stool. He rolled his shoulders experimentally to feel how tensed they were, letting out a sigh at the muscles loosening from their strained position.

“(Y/n)? Jagi?” He used a few more names to try and get your attention, full lips pulling into a frown when he only heard muffled sobbing coming from the living room.

Oh no…

“(Y/n)?”

He walked into the room with purposeful strides, rolling up the sleeves of his button up as he went to help cool down. When he saw the flickering screen of the television, he noticed instantly that an attempted movie stream had failed due to a poor internet connection. He searched the couch hurriedly with concern flashing in his chocolate brown eyes, finally coming to rest on your form wrapped in a blanket huddled to one side. His heart broke when he watched your shoulders tremble with another barely contained wail.

“Shit, (Y/n) are you okay?” He inhaled sharply and jogged over to kneel in front of you, hands flying upwards to peel the blanket away from your face.

“God, I’ve wanted to hear your voice all day,” You sniffled, face red and puffy from tears. He didn’t know why you were crying, but the man embodied all the sensitive qualities of an empath. The sorry sight of you made his own emotions well up at an alarming rate.

“Hold on,” He cradled your face and stood up to gently smear the tears away from your cheeks, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead before rushing to the bedroom to get changed into something comfier.

“You definitely should have called me!” He groaned with a frown, hating that you were feeling so saddened but hadn’t been in contact to let him know.

You could only sigh. “You were working, I’d be too much of a bother.” You swayed on your feet as you waited for him out in the hallway leading to your room. You just wanted to be close to him now; wanting absolutely nothing more than his soothing words and body heat. He finally nudged open the door with his elbow, now dressed in tracksuit pants and a plain white t-shirt that was looser than anything else he owned.

“Come here baby,” He cooed and looked at you with softened eyes, reaching down to sweep you into his arms almost effortlessly. You wrapped your own arms around your husband tightly as he brought you back to the comfort of the couch, pressing his lips to your hair to remind you that he was home safe and sound.

“Tell me all about it.”

You sighed a rickety sigh, feeling even more tears swell from nowhere at the feeling of immense joy you now felt.

“Shit day, just all round shitness,” You murmured as you settled comfortably into his lap. His fingers swept some of your hair away and then moved to run through the tresses, making you smile and lean into the inviting pressure.

“Hmm, what was the first thing,” Jimin prompted, wanting you to let it all out to him while also being curious as to what had caused such emotional trauma. You revelled in the softness of his voice and moved your own hands to touch his face. He thought it was cute, but you believed the resulting smile he flashed your way was the most adorable thing to exist on this planet.

“The windowsill, for one,” You finally muttered, breaking off into a chuckle.

“Oh, whoops. I keep forgetting.” He clicked his tongue, a rumble of a growl sounding deep within his chest. You chuckled again and couldn’t help but nuzzle your face affectionately into his neck.

“It’s not your fault, I was gonna call up about it ages ago.”

His fingers continued to comb through your hair as he hummed for you to continue. Your tears had stopped altogether as you synced your breathing with his, feeling secured by the feeling of his rhythmic heartbeat underneath your moving hand.

“Met up with (F/n), but I looked like shit and felt like shit too. Oh yeah, coffee machine broke before that as well.”

“Wow, double whammy.”

You snorted and tried to push down your feelings of endearment to continue solemnly. “She’s moving away with her husband, interstate.”

Jimin let out a low noise of understanding. Finally, he could wrap his head around why the combination of all these small and big events would cause you to fall apart at the seams. Now that he thought about it, it had been so long since he’d even seen you cry. Maybe you’d been bottling it up for months now, and he just hadn’t noticed.

Work causing me to be ignorant, again! I really need to start focusing on what’s important...

Jimin pushed the thoughts away as you continued with the adoption of a heavier tone, the warmth of your tears falling onto his shoulder suddenly. He ran a hand over the top of your head to comfort you, his own eyes watering at your outward display of frustration.

“I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy, I mean I was but she’s one of my only friends at work and I know I’ll feel a little lost without her there. The house sounds really nice from what she said too.”

Jimin felt your form stiffen as you sobbed lightly.

“Then what?” He prompted with a soft whisper, holding you closer and rubbing your arm to help calm you down.

“She t-talked about kids and stuff, I’m so fucking stupid but I couldn’t help thinking of the miscarriage. She knew too, she…she had to stop herself from speaking just so I wouldn’t break down. Jimin, I’m such a horrible friend, I really am…”

Jimin felt his own sorrow creeping up on him as you brought up something that had deeply affected you both. You comforted one another as you stopped to brood for a few minutes, the silence being as consoling as anything while you focused on the sound of his breathing. He cleared his throat, urging away the crackle in it to lighten the atmosphere.

“It’s alright, the world is full of people you’ll meet and keep close to you. Think of all the opportunity out there instead of seeing the loss. We can visit, no?”

You cracked a smile at his much needed optimism.

“Of course. Of course we can, love.”

He kissed your head again and you reached up to smooth your now softened hair out of your face and peripherals. You looked up at him with an absolute storm of adoration clouding your gaze.

“How about we stay in tonight and just cuddle here on the couch. I’ll get the TV working too,” He murmured, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks lovingly and letting his eyes curve slightly from the accompanying smile. You ruffled his thick ashy locks briefly before shifting in his lap and capturing his lips with your own gently.

“I love you so much, it hurts sometimes,” You sighed after pulling away, but he jerked to follow your lips a second after. You hummed in amusement as you moved to straddle him, trying to pour all of your gratefulness and appreciation into the kiss.

You disconnected but rested your foreheads together to lock eyes, your face scrunching slightly when he tickled your nose with his own.

“I love you too, but you already knew that,” He rasped, planting another tiny peck to your lips and letting it linger.

You couldn’t stop running your thumbs across the expanse of his wide cheeks, your noses still inches apart and warm breaths tickling each other’s lips in small puffs. It was as if neither of you ever wanted to move.

“Yeah, kinda,” You giggled while giving his cheeks the lightest of pinches.

“Kinda? I’ll give you kinda…” Jimin growled playfully and rolled you over to the other side of the couch, standing up straight and flexing out his shoulders while you shrieked with laughter.

“I’m sorry, I know!”

He chuckled cutely and leaned over to tickle you some more before showering you with more kisses. You let your face relax as you took in his warm gaze. You felt a little calmer and more serious after the small bout of liveliness you’d had.

“Sorry, I didn’t really ask about your day. Now that I’m done I can give you a massage while you tell me.”

Jimin let out a big breath and fixed his roughened hair, looking down at you with vaguely tired eyes that were still filled with appreciation.

“Massage sounds amazing love, but I need the toilet.”

“Okay, maybe the ice cream is back to normal. Get it on your way back?” You called out after him.

“Sure thing.”

You smiled softly to yourself as you thought about how much he had managed to cheer you up with one conversation. You did feel kind of selfish for unloading all your troubles onto him without seeming to give a shit about his day in return, but you promised you would make up for it as soon as he came back. You would help him turn his day around, just like he’d done for you.

In fact, the ice cream reminded you of this very moment. When it came down to it, something like this could never be irreversible. Even if you were a sad, melted puddle of emotions from the moment you woke up, you’d since been restored to your former glory by your saviour husband, your personal freezer. He kept you together when you needed it the most.

“AH!”

A muffled shout from the bathroom caused you to slap a hand to your mouth to stop the cackles from escaping.

“That’s a big motherfucker.”

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[siverwrites]

Day 20 Solitude Part 1

GTxFFVI au

AKA oops this got away from me.

For my sanity if not yours I decided to go for probably 3 parts instead of planned 2, especially as I went back and expanded a bunch on this first chunk.

I’d really just wanted another whack at the island now that we know so much more but then Things happened.

The Floating Continent falls...

Note in this AU Pigeon Man has a name! All credit for that one due to @azurefishnets A name!! Cidgeon!

Part 2

Part 3

Jowd. Jowd and Alma. Cabanela was pinned between them in a huddled mass on the deck of the shuddering airship. It was Jowd’s heartbeat near his ear that he became aware of first, once he could think past the overwhelming crash of relief and through the wave of pain and the tendrils of exhaustion trying to pull him under.

He made it.

Jowd was here. Alma was here. They were here.

They… waited for him…

He’d almost remained. He was pinned by the statues so far out of alignment now he couldn’t imagine the consequences, but he could feel them in the magic surging through the air, painful, heavy and suffocating.

He almost remained while his double laughed wildly, drunk off power. His eyes danced with the light of the sparks that flew and his own lightning crashing down around them.

He almost remained. Make sure this monster went down. Make sure the cause of all their torment fell.

He almost remained. There wasn’t time. The place was falling apart around them. Their airship awaited. They had to get away.

He almost remained. And didn’t. He abandoned them once. He was forced apart from them again. Not again. Never again.

He turned and fled with the sound of his own laughter ringing loudly in his ears, twisting his gut, adding to the pain already searing in his side.

He ran as he’d never run before with only one goal in mind. This time he would make it. If they were there… if they were there…

He leaped over gaping holes where the ground had already fallen, scrambled around others that he couldn’t make.

He started to falter. His side burned in agony. His muscles ached with exhaustion. They had to be gone by now anyway surely? Gone and safe?

Then he saw them. Jowd and Alma still stood, holding onto each other as the ground rumbled around them.

It was all the boost he needed and he put on a new surge of speed. He screamed at them to go as he leapt another gap. He’d catch up. Just let him see them safe, please. That’s all he ever asked for.

They didn’t. Jowd reached out. Cabanela’s foot slipped as the ground trembled under him and started to sink. A final jump carried him into Jowd’s arms. Two sets of hands pulled him close and they made their last jump as one.

He winced as another wave of magic crackled through him, a dancing heat rippling over his skin. Less intense than near the statues but dangerous, so very dangerous.

There was a soft thump, an alien sound against the roar of the wind and the terrible crumbling and crashing as the strange continent fell apart.

Cabanela moved his face away from Jowd to see. Sissel was on his knees with his head in his hands.

“The world,” he groaned. “It’s in so much pain.”

Memry’s shriek cut through the air. “The ship! I can’t control her!”

“The engines!” Kamila ran up from below onto the deck. “Something’s really wrong with them!”

Cabanela spotted a more imminent danger as the wood groaned and ominous cracks sounded in his ear.

He pulled away from Jowd and staggered into a run. Not again—they wouldn’t be parted again. It was already happening; he could see the wood buckle and cracks form.

Cidgeon made a move toward Kamila from his side. Cabanela heard Alma gasp behind him, but neither she nor Cidgeon moved as swiftly.

Kamila’s eyes widened and she struggled as he caught hold of her.

“No! Uncle Cabs, you’ll!”

He thrust her back toward Alma and stumbled again as the ship shuddered and shook. Alma caught hold of Kamila and the ship broke apart.

He fell back and could only watch Alma pull Kamila away from the rapidly expanding gulf between them. He heard her cry his name and Cidgeon’s. Saw Jowd pull them both further back.

Gone. One moment, one shining moment and they were ripped apart again. At least they were together… his precious family were still one for what little time was left. They plummeted fast and fell further and further away from each other. He watched in horror as another piece fell in the distance and prayed no one went with it.

Cidgeon’s voice was grim as he gripped the rail. “We’re not going to last long.” He nodded his head back toward the other side.

He was right, Cabanela saw. A chunk of rail fell away. They were losing pieces here too. He dragged himself toward Cidgeon. His vision blurred, spots danced in front of his eyes. So heavy, so hard to move. Maybe this was close enough.

Cidgeon’s voice suddenly sounded sharp in his ears. “Cabanela!” And he stretched out while still gripping the rail.

What was he…?

Cabanela suddenly slid as the section beneath him broke away. He lunged forward a second too late and found only air under him.

Reflex and one wild flail let him catch the edge near Cidgeon. He clung one-handed while the wind rushed around him.

A staggering step then Cidgeon was on his knees, bracing himself against the remnants of railing. He stretched a hand toward him.

“Reach up!”

The sudden force of the question that hit him was nearly enough to knock him off by itself:

Why?

They fell. What difference did it make how? He tried to save them all, only for everyone to plummet to their deaths. He hurt in more ways than he could count and he was so very, very tired. What if he just… let go?

Cidgeon’s mouth framed something as he fell away. The wind buffeted him, cape and scarf flaring and whipping around him. He almost remained. Maybe he should have. He closed his eyes. It was over.

The ocean rose to meet him and his world ended.

[spiderbabypxrker]

Intrigued (2): Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader Imagine

PART TWO

Where he’s curious.

Word Count: 1508

Warnings: none

a/n: here is part 2! I hope you guys like it, I don’t think I will do another part after this

Part 1

series masterlist

masterlist

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

You swear you were about to go mental.

Tony had basically put you on house arrest ever since the incident with Spider-Man. It had been about a week. You were getting so sick of reading the same books and watching the same movies and shows. Itching to do something, even go out and save someone. You were pretty much shielded from the superhero world, but you wanted so desperately to experience it.

So, you did what you knew was the only way to get your sanity back; sneak out.

Slipping on your superhero spare suit in your closet under your clothes (since Tony had your official one locked away). You snuck through the complex, tiptoeing to the front door with your head down.

“Ms (Y/L/N) where are you off to?” Vision pops up from behind you abruptly, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Oh I uhm, I just wanted some fresh air, yeah…” you fumble with your fingers, regaining your uneven breath.

“Didn’t Mr Stark forbid you from leaving the house?” he questions with a raised brow.

“It’s just some fresh air Vision, no need to get worked up,” you laugh nervously.

He sends you a sceptical look, shrugging, “Alright then, call if you need anything.”

You nod, spinning around quickly as scurrying out of the door. Letting out a sigh of relief, you look up to the sky and smile as the sun warmed up your body.

Queens, here I come.

———

Peter was getting incredibly bored with the same routine he’d been living. He’d wake up, go to school, be Spider-Man and come back home to sleep. This was generally his routine for just about every day.

He needed something new, something surprising to liven up his day.

Though, he didn’t expect at all to find the unknown, quirky girl he met a week ago sitting on top of a vacant building looking down to the streets of Queens.

“Fancy seeing you here darling,” he smiles under his mask making you jump a little, head spinning around to meet his suited figure.

“Oh, uh hello again,” you respond back shyly.

“What brings you back over here, hm?” he hums, walking over to the ledge where you were sat.

“Just escaping my house arrest,” you laugh awkwardly, looking up to his mask covered face.

“That so? I’m guessing Mr Stark wasn’t too happy about your visit last week,” he guesses, sitting down next to you casually.

You nod, “Yeah, something like that.”

“So what’s his deal?” he asks.

“Just protective I guess,” you cut it down to that, you weren’t stupid enough to reveal everything to the masked boy you had just met.

He looks at you thoughtfully, looking down to your suit-clad body wondering why he had never seen you before, he was sure he had known about all the Avengers but you were a complete mystery.

“So, who are you?” he inquires bluntly, an itching feeling to learn more about you overcoming him as he waited for your response.

“Now why would I tell you who I am when I know nothing about you?” you laugh and he looks away from your wide smile.

“Fair enough,” he responds with a sigh.

As he looks down at the streets of Queens he contemplates what he should say, and in an act of pure curiosity, he did something that he would never have done.

“I’m Peter,” he says softly, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You smile lightly, grasping his hand gently, “(Y/N), nice to meet you, Peter.”

He grins underneath his mask.

(Y/N) huh?

“Are you an Avenger?” he continues to question.

“Uh, kind of…?”

“Kind of?”

“Well, I haven’t really been officially announced as one and I’m not really allowed on a lot of missions to be honest. I’m kind of a secret,” you explain carefully.

He nods slowly, “But why are you a secret?”

She shrugs and he drops the subject, looking back down at the busy streets.

A fire truck siren abruptly fills your ears making you stand up from the ledge defensively,  watching as it speeds down the streets to an unknown destination. You start to walk across the building to follow its direction.

“Where are you going?” Peter stands up behind you.

“To see what’s going on,” you respond, not even sparing a glance behind you.

He walks forward to grab onto your wrist to pull you back, making you spin around to face him.

“Why do you care?” he asks breathlessly.

You look back at his motionless masked face thoughtfully, pulling back your wrist after a moment and not responding to him, picking up the wind with your hands and jumping off the building to let it guide you across the buildings to follow the truck.

He huffs, watching as you disappear from his sight. He has a mental battle with his mind before groaning and shooting out a web to follow you.

The fire blazed brightly, corroding the building it had latched on to. Civilians stood at the bottom with policemen pushing them back and away from the building. You could hear the cries of the civilians as some reached out to enter the building.

There were still some people trapped in there.

Landing firmly in front of the building and people, you spring into action, sprinting into the building enveloped by the scorching flames. The interior was destroyed, furniture burnt and things crumbling down the remaining walls still standing.

“Is anyone here!” you yell out through coughs.

You could hear a young woman wail out from the floor above you, concentrating, you moved the fire to make a path with your hands and run through it up the unstable stairs.

The woman crouched in the corner coughing out loud loudly. You move to where she was, wrapping your arm underneath her shoulders and carrying her body along down the stairs and out of the toxic building.

You place her down on the pavement in front of the medics who rush over to her aid.

“Are you okay?” you ask breathlessly.

She sobs outwardly, holding her hands out towards the building.

“I t-think there are more people in there,” she says shakily and you nod.

Turning back around you run back into the building and up the stairs again.

“Hello?” you yell, trying to control the heaviness in your lungs.

Your body was burning up as you trudged through the burning debris. Your vision was starting to become blurry as breathing suddenly became harder and harder. Your body buckled and hit the hot floor, feeling yourself slip out of consciousness.

Then, you felt your body being lifted softly off the ground, you could just catch a glimpse of red and blue before all you saw was black.

Peter stood up with you in his arms swiftly, pulling you into his chest as he exited the crumbling building. The crowd watched on as Spiderman came out with their unknown saviour unconscious in his arms.

He held you with one arm tightly into his body, your head lulled into the crook of his neck as he shot a web out and lifted you both off the ground and away from the scene.

He safely lands the both of you firmly on top of a building, laying you down sideways gently and placing your head on his lap.

He looked down at your unconscious state as fear settled into him, he had no clue what to do. Were you okay? Would you wake up?

On cue, your body launched forward in a fit of nasty coughs, making you hunch over and hold your chest.

Peters' eyes widen and he quickly moved over, rubbing your back as you choked up ash. Luckily it didn’t seem like you had inhaled too much to damage anything.

“You’re such an idiot,” he laughs bitterly.

You look back at him in confusion, eyes still watery.

“Why would you do that, why would you risk your life like that?” he asks almost angrily.

You shake your head weakly.

“Isn’t that what heroes do?” you croak.

He almost scoffs as he looks down at you, anger filling up inside his chest. Why would you do that? You could have died.

“I’m not going to stand back and let an innocent person die when I have the power to save them,” you say softly and under the mask, his expression drops.

He looks away from your burning gaze, knowing that you were right. He just didn’t want to give anything back to the world, truthfully, he was scared of its rejection but his path seemed to become clearer as you spoke.

Comfortingly, he runs his hand up and down your back. Bringing his other free hand up to pull off his mask.

Your eyes connect with two warm ones, curly brunette hair and a tight-lipped smile.

“I guess you’ll have to teach me how to be a hero.”

You smile softly, bringing his hand in yours gently.

“You already are one, Peter.”

[cloversreblogs]

Memento Mori- ABHOT submission

@aphabriefhistoryoftime

Links: FFN.net, AO3, Wattpad

Remember that you have to die. One day, you will be gone. One day, you will be forgotten, and the legacies you leave in this realm will be left to rot. He, the Kingdom of the Franks, was always afraid of this truth. So he will do whatever it took for him to stay in power. Even if it meant killing his kings.

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Characters: APH Kingdom of the Franks (OC), APH France, APH HRE/Germany, APH Lotharingia (OC), APH Aachen (OC), many mentioned nation OCs (APH Gaul, APH Saxons, APH Alemanni, APH Rome, APH Germania), many mentioned Frankish rulers (Clovis I, Louis the Pious and his 3 sons, Charlemagne)

Genre: Tragedy, spiritual

Rating: T 

Warning(s): Strong dealings of death, 2 attempted murders (regicide and sororicide), existential crises, overall a very depressing fic, don’t read if you have an existential crisis

Words: 5.1K

Yeah it’s a lot of angst here. If you want any sunshine and rainbows, then oh man have you gone to the wrong place

Please note that I am not a historian, so if there were any mistakes in regards to history, please let me know, and that will be noted.

This fic is set during and after the Treaty of Verdun, which marked the end of the Carolingian civil war. It split the Carolingian Empire into 3 territories, East, Middle, and West Francia, and in most cases, marked the end of the kingdom of the Franks. Some say that the Kingdom of the Franks never ended, however, and instead evolved into Modern France and Germany. In my interpretation, the Treaty of Verdun is the official death of the kingdom of the Franks, and so he died entirely when the last king of the Carolingian Dynasty (Charlemagne’s dynasty) died.

For all of you wondering what Frank looks like, he looks like Odin Grina

East Francia/Karl- HRE/Germany

Middle Francia/Lotharingia- original OC

West Francia- France

I headcanon France and Germany as related, which is partially thanks to this comic

Treaty of Verdun. August, 843 A.D.

Verdun-sur-Meuse, Carolingian Empire.

Memento mori.

Remember that you have to die. One day, you will be gone. One day, you will be forgotten, and the legacies you leave in this realm will be left to rot.

Even nations, no matter how prosperous or deific they were, submit to this rule and fall. From fresh, new nations too prone to death, to ancient empires that crumbled at its own power.

He, the Kingdom of the Franks, was always afraid of this truth. That any memory of him will fade into oblivion once he's gone. When will this happen? How? Due to this fear, he lived by Carpe Diem. To seize every day to the best of his ability, in hopes that by doing so, his legacy will live on further.

But now, his end his end was near. Too near. The pain inside his skull pulsed in the torment of civil war. The war between Louis the Pious’ three sons tore his sanity and mind apart. If not careful, they could divide his land. He could not live past this war, he could not. It was a feeling deep down his guts, instinct, that told him that nevermore will he be an empire.

He had lived past several other civil wars. This one shouldn’t drive him to the absolute breaking point yet, it shouldn’t. It was too early. Rome had a legacy of over a millennium, his own had not lasted half as long. Why would he, a warrior, a conqueror like him, perish under the hands of his own rulers? It was not right. He was a nation, he was strong. He will emerge, alive. No matter what it took.

As the quill stained the surface of the parchment, he gripped tighter onto his dagger. Frank’s forehead was damp, and his lungs ache for air. Fear rattled deep within him. How come? He told his gentle self. This was no different than on the battlefield.

If they died, he would live.

Screw your courage to the sticking place, he scolded. It will be like in battle. A stab at the heart or better, the head, and it will be over. It didn’t matter if they were his kings. He was their nation, and only he will say in who lives and who dies.

The dagger’s handle pained his palm as he gripped it and welled up his nerve. As the other members of the court watched them, he shifted to behind the last of the sons who signed the parchment. Slipping a bit of the dagger out its sheath, he squeezed his eyes together and pulled it over his head.

With all his might, he brought the blade down. A grip held his wrist up above their heads.

When he flung his eyes open, he saw a court member and a guard stopping his blade from descending. Fury burning within him. he yelled and struggled as the court members gasped in shock at the spectacle.

Not yet. Not yet! One movement and he will live. He will not go gently yet!

He…

He...

The furious fire dissipated as a hollow feeling filled him. His mind went blank, and the room spun.

The paved floor below him rippled, and he lost his footing as all the nerves in his body collapsed.

The treaty. He had been too late. The sons had signed the treaty during the commotion. As he fell, he saw three boys clad in white linen, appearing behind each of the sons.

His head hit the stone floor, and a crack wrecked through his skull. There was some commotion in the room, drowned out by an uncomfortable buzz. The light of the room darkened. While his head throbbed harder, he slipped into unconsciousness.

Frank groaned as he came to, and winced in pain at the pain at the back of his head. His head was wrapped up in a bandage, and as he looked around, he realised that he was placed back into his chamber. A hollow, nauseous feeling washed over his entire self. He didn’t feel like anything alive.

He knew why. The three boys behind each of Pepin’s sons had confirmed his worst fears.

Never before were there other personifications of his kingdom than him. It was always just himself, and his watchdogs of kings, dukes, and princes.

Now, he was back into his room. The grey granite of the castle room was dyed a cold, indigo blue of twilight. It was midnight when he became unconscious. How long had it been since then? The quiet was not right either. Only the trees and wind outside rustled and howled. He had been changed into a linen nightgown. His silken clothes sat beside him, with his sword in its scabbard resting on top. The dagger was removed.

Frank's head collided with the pillow. He was so pathetic. Was a scratch of the quill against parchment what had ended him? Was-

The sound of stone scraping against shoe echoed in the room.

He spun his eyes towards where the noise came from. While he was worn down, his senses honed from his hunting days were still sharp.  A shadow in the far end corner that hid away from the window’s light. He peered, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. A ripple of white linen stood out in contrast of the dark.

The same clothes that each of the boys wore.

“Come out, all three of you,” he ordered. His voice came out scratchier than he had expected, but it was clear enough to work. There was some shuffling in the shadows, before one of them came out, the dying sun illuminating him.

He was a spitting image of when he was a child. Blonde hair, his fog blue eyes, everything. On closer inspection, Frank realised his mistake. Judging from the round quality of her face, it was a girl.

“You… you are the Kingdom of the Franks,” she whispered, voice like the breaths of wind. This child had a lighter voice. Two children and a girl.

“Yes.” In response, she gripped her nightdress, clearly wiping the sweat off of her palms on the linen.

“I-I am Middle Francia.” The way she had said it told him that she was instructed to say it. Like as if he was a dying man who was supposed to pass his wisdom to his heirs. Fools, if they thought that was the last of him.

By now, the other two children came out also. West and East Francia, he presumed. They were dead ringers for the girl, though they were both clearly boys. He squinted. If the girl looked like him when he was a child, the two boys looked closer. One of them had blue eyes the shade of spring skies that sparked with a certain warm kindness. He had seen those eyes before-

oh, no. No no no. Those were Gaul’s eyes. What cruel joke was this? Brung back to haunt him- Frank snapped himself out of it. The boy’s kingdom probably included Gaul’s land. It happened. When a child personification inherits the land of a previous personification, they would always inherit some kind of trait from them, whether if they were related or not.

The other boy had lighter hair, but paler eyes. Frank frowned. He resembled Alemanni, the tribe that was annexed into the kingdom. They both had an expression of nervousness, but the first one had a clearer expression of uncertainty, the lighter haired one tried to hide it with sternness and courage.

A buzzing sensation filled his ears. The room spun. Before they could continue, the room around him turned blurry, and everything blacked out.

To his shock, he didn’t die straight away.

Why? After the treaty, it should have been the end of him. Unless it meant that fate decided to spare him a while longer.

Every dawn, he hoped for a chance that the ruler would come to his senses and reunite the empire. Every dusk, that wishful fulfillment was left to dust. Every day, that hope would fade more and more, until it rotted into bitter anger.

Such an easy task. He should have risen up. Frank glanced down at his hand. He twitched a finger, but a migraine and a nauseous sensation filled his head. His ears rang. With all of his strength, he lifted his hand up, ignoring the sick feeling that came with it.

Not even a foot up, his nerves collapsed, and his hand fell back onto the duvet. Frank welled up all of his strength again, but his mind fogged, and he collapsed back before he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Every day, his strength weakened, and more humiliation filled him every time. 

Every day, all he could do was lie down, and watch as the sunrise turn to the sunset, midnight turn to noon, and the Summer turn to the Winter.

It drove him insane. How long had it been since he had ‘died’? All conception of the time was lost. Only the sun and the moon told him how long. How many times did the sun set and the moon rise? A lot. What had happened to his kingdom outside of this cell?

Pathetic. He was absolutely pathetic. What had become of him? A respected empire now bedridden.

This was not the end of him. He will not allow it.

Day. Night. Sunrise. Noon. Sunset. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Watch.

Day. Night. Sunrise. Noon. Sunset. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Watch.

Day. Night. Sunrise. Noon. Sunset. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Watch.

And repeat.

A scream pierced the night. He had enough.

Frank grabbed his sword that was sheathed in the scabbard. He pulled out the weapon, and with all his gathered might, stood up.

He squeezed his eyes shut at a migraine. The strong pulse like he had bashed his head into an iron church bell, but he gripped his sword tight. The stone floor shattered his knees, and a spike of pain pierced his abdomen. A scream of pain escaped.

When he opened his eyes, blood dyed black spilled on the moonlit floor.

A guard had carried him back. He wanted to struggle against it, but his mind was too fogged to do anything. Stop it. Stop this! He wanted to say, but the pain in his head pulsed too much.

For the night, shameless tears were shed. Pathetic.

The event was a slap in his face of how much he withered since. He wanted to forget about it. He didn’t want it to happen again.

Since then, more people came into the room, mostly maids. For the first time, a maid peeked her head through a gap of the door, her eyes wide. The whole time she stayed inside, she shivered. As if he was a resting dragon with unimaginable power. She had a duster with her, as well as a cognac bottle and some cloth.

She pulled back the cover. With shaky hands, she applied the cognac onto his wound. It stung, but Frank stayed silent.

Now that they knew he was not of any threat, the maids would no longer shiver. Instead, they hummed, as if they were alone, cleaning in their own homes.

The wound would not heal. It clotted, but it wouldn’t harden.

To his disgust, sometimes it was one of the three children who entered. As the maids grew more and more used to him, they visited more often.

West Francia, who called himself Francis, was the one who visited him the most. East Francia visited him also, but it was to console with him with politics, warfare, and advice of the court. He even chose his name to be Karl, after his ruler Charlemagne, the one who had started his golden years of the Carolingian Renaissance. Francis simply told him of his day to day life.

At first, he was a little disgusted. Was he the heir to his land? A ruler should be strong and battle worthy. He hated being pitied, which was why Francis talked to him. For a while, he resented him, and so didn’t pay attention to what he was saying.

One day, he reminded himself-- he was a child.

What did he do when he was his age? He didn’t care about becoming an empire back then, he just lived as he did. His desire to become an empire came only when Clovis I suggested it to him.

It was better having company and someone to talk to rather than rot on a bed. Before he knew it, he started to look forward to his visits. It took his mind off of his current state and allowed him to simply let be, to actually enjoy himself for once, even if it was just listening to him speak.

“Frank… is it lonely up here?”

Lonely? More like stuck in the labyrinth of his own thoughts to compensate for the months of being bedridden.

“Yes. I suppose.” The way he said it touched him a little, how he thought enough of him to ask this.

One time, Karl stopped when he saw Francis already talking to him. With envy in his eyes, Karl backed out.

Already was East Francia focused on glory, while his brother was focused on the little things in life. What did he focus on when he was a child?

He focused on living his life. Playing with his brothers, hunting game in the cool, green glade. Never did he want to become an empire in the first place… it was only at the suggestion of Clovis II that it grew into a desire.

What stood out to him was that only once did Francis call him a father, and that was only when he first began visiting him. It was opposed to Karl, but he had a feeling that it was more towards duty than an actual connection.

He couldn’t call himself one either. A father should be a parent who protected his kids, no matter the cost. He was too young to be one. His empire lasted for less than a millennia. He doubted that he reached 20 physically.

Frank remembered his father, Germania, a whispered legend amongst his siblings. He did his best in raising them all. It was not a glamorous upbringing, he wasn't by their side all the time, but he was always there when he needed him. Always there to guide him.

But now he couldn’t even stand up. He was a crippled man. Yet he still had the audacity to call him their father?

Francis’ visits thinned in quantity, from every day slipping to every week to every month, from hours worth of conversations to quick recaps of what had happened. Now, it had been a year since he last saw him.

One day, it was not Francis, nor Karl, nor the maids which came in, but a girl.

A girl with blonde, braided hair appeared behind the door. She was clad in fine clothes and armour, so it could not be one of the maids.

Middle Francia. Frank realised that it had been a long time since he had seen her.

“Can you please teach me?” She whispered. She hung her head down in a way that told him she feared him.

“Teach you what?”

“Fighting strategies.” Fighting strategies?

"Is that all?"

“Yes. I want to be able to defend myself from invaders.” That was a new reason. Unlike Karl who learnt battle techniques for the opposite reason.

“Defend from who?” Her eyebrows knitted into a frown as she looked down and chewed her lip.

“I’ve forgotten what they were called.” She was lying. Perhaps it was because she was too prideful to say who. He used to do that.

“Forgotten? Then learn their names. To fight an enemy, you need to know your enemy enough, find a weak place, and target that.” She nodded, her features tense, before she looked to the floor, thinking. Frank remembered how he’d ask his father for defense strategies, and plan it out in his head just like her. The girl reminded him of himself more so than he had thought.

“Your land contains the centre of my kingdom, correct?”

“Yes.” The centre of his kingdom contained his homelands before he became an empire. No wonder she reminded him of himself.

Frank realised that she had never told him what his human name was. “Have you picked out a name for yourself yet?”

“No. But I’m named Lotharingia rather than Middle Francia now."

For the rest of the afternoon, they discussed defense strategies-- she was reluctant to learn offense strategies.

Finally, she did a small bow. "Thank you for your time," she bid. Without a second word, she left.

When the door clicked close, he resumed into his limbo.

He hoped that either Lotharingia or Francis was visiting the next time the door creaked open. To his surprise, it was Karl. But Karl was lacking the air of focus in his eyes. Something was wrong.

“How’s your sister? I haven’t heard from her in a while.” At the word sister, Karl tensed up. Frank rose an eyebrow at the act, and a pang of horror struck him. It couldn’t be. Was she dead?

Karl placed a bloody knife onto the bed.

“I... I am the true heir of the Franks. Right?”

Lothairingia’s land contained his homelands.

Karl must’ve felt the cold stare down his neck. He backed away as Frank tensed.

"Did you kill her?" He growled. Karl's head shakes released tension from within his head, but the audacity of the attempt left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I... I-I'm-"

“Leave,” he commanded. “Take your blade with you.” Karl staggered back to the door. He looked away from his gaze, his blonde fringe sticking to his sweaty, pasty forehead before he reached the handle and left.

The red stain remained a horrid copper smell that started to fill the room. Frank dug his nose into the pillow to muffle it.

So that was what they were concerned of the most. Whether or not they were his true heir! A dreaded feeling in his gut, instinct, told him that Francis desired the same. What he had thought were Francis’ comforting words were now techniques to win over his favour. What he had thought were questions of a nation were now methods to surpass him.

Was that all they cared about? Being the true heir? No wonder Lotharingia asked him of fighting strategies. No wonder she never mentioned the names of the invaders. Because they were the ones who attacked. She never even pick out a name for herself!

Was this the fate of the ones less fortunate than oneself? In the act of becoming great, people below perish? He never thought much about war. Something about Lotharingia's death snapped his heartstrings in half. He thought of how he and his siblings fought. Was this why Germania was never there?

For the night, he allowed himself to be in sorrow. The next time he regained consciousness, his temples were wet.

But the world outside of the castle walls moved on. He longed to be out there. Under the sun as the smell of trees blew with the wind, into the forest catching game, swimming in the lakes cool from the shade, but instead, he was stuck in this miserable fucking hellhole.

He sighed. What good was it to resist that urge to swear? Eternal damnation in exchange for just one curse word? He’d take that any day.

Was this what he deserved? Under Clovis I, he converted to Christianity and set out to convert the rest of Europe as well, to free people of the so-called damnation. Yet people who died because of him.

Gaul. Saxon... he had told himself that it was for the good of Europe. Now that he witnessed an attempted fratricide, he wondered if it was worth it.

There were rumours that Rome was still alive. Was he rotting somewhere like him, begging for death to take him swiftly? Drifting from consciousness to unconsciousness, too tired to care?

He mused for a while longer. His eyelids grew heavy, and he fell back to sleep.

—-

The sensation was as if a pail of cold water was splashed onto him. He was dry, lest for sweat that glued his hair and clothes onto his skin, but awake, as if he had woken from a dreaded dream.

A maid pouring him water yelped in surprise and spilt some drops of water onto the bed.

His head was spinning as if he was sick. Sick… he hadn’t felt that way for years. Tired? Yes. But that was a lack of feeling. Right now, he felt alive. Sick, sure, but alive and breathing. Frank actually felt alive. Heaving in, breath by breath, the cold air shocked and rejuvenated his lungs. The maid flinched when he looked her way, gripping her water jug tight.

What had happened that made him feel so alive? Frank heard chatter and music from downstairs. A celebration? He connected the event of the celebration to him awakening… was his empire reunited? Frank ordered the maid to fetch his clothes and got dressed, and cursed at his feeble knees and ankles as he went down the stairs. Being bedridden for years, his bones ached and wobbled all over. Before he could reach the end, his knees collapsed. He gripped onto the iron railings to stop himself from crashing downwards but hissed in pain as his knees crashed into the cobblestone stairs.

He forgot his pain when in the dim light, the bones of his hands pressed white against his skin. When did his hands turn so thin? Feeling his face, he noted the loss of softness in the cheeks. Around his eyes, his cheeks, it was bony. He felt his chin and frowned at his beard. Even when he didn’t shave, his beard hadn’t grown much. Had his limbo stopped it?

The sound of lutes and gossip caught his attention. Frank noticed the door in front of him. Standing up, he opened it and flinched at the bright lights.

Nobody stopped when he entered the room. Compared to the greens, reds, and blues of the guests, Frank's clothes had faded into a grey colour. As he made his way through the crowd, Frank realised that he didn’t recognise anyone attending the party. All the noblemen, noblewomen, he swore he could see some resemblance to people at the court he had known. How many generations had he skipped?

Until he saw a flash of blonde in the crowd. It was his capital Aachen.

“Aachen?”

Said capital turned around. He stared blankly, like if he was a stranger.

“Aachen. It’s me.”

Aachen gasped as his forehead turned white as if he had seen a ghost. He couldn’t blame him, he had been bedridden for decades. He must’ve thought that he was dead.

It was strange to see him now. While it had only been 40 years since he had last seen him, the city in question had grown his hair a bit longer. He cleared his throat and placed his goblet on the table.

“A lot has changed since the treaty,” he muttered, looking away. “This is Charles the Fat’s coronation.”

“Fat?”

“Yeah, look at him. He’s... “ Aachen stopped and cleared his throat. “Big.” Frank looked forward, and the King was indeed fat, big was an understatement. Even now, Aachen was still cowardly and soft-spoken.

“Did the kingdoms reunite?”

“There was no more heir for the West, so he was crowned King.” So it was something by chance that he was resurrected, but in no way was it an attempt to revive him.

His eyes wandered across the coronation, recognising nobody until he saw Francis. Francis had grown taller and grew his hair longer to his shoulders. His eyes wandered around, and he saw Karl, who had trimmed it into a neat bowl cut. Francis was joking with some other nobles, his capital focused on a book, while Karl was talking with his own capital. The two stood away from each other. A larger divide between the two has formed since he had last seen them.

Karl caught a glimpse of him but was distracted by another court member. Barely a glimpse. Like he couldn’t be bothered with.

He frowned at Lotharingia's absence. Where was she? It seemed only yesterday since that dreaded day, yet still, the court members joked like nothing had happened. Was she too unwell for the coronation? At such a young age?

Memento mori. Remember that you have to die. No matter what you are, the world moved on. Like him. He was a ghost that no one, not even his former capital, recognised. His role in the narrative was over. No longer was he in charge of the narrative, but he was now a bystander who could only watch as the world unfolded before him.

Was this why people pass away? Because the final chapter of their narrative was finished. There was nothing left for them to tell, and so the world moves on from them.

Perhaps the dream of becoming a mighty Empire like Rome was a luxury only a few could afford. To be remembered, admired. But maybe even Rome one day will be forgotten. People used to praise him back when he was recognised. But look at him now. Maybe it will take much, much longer, but Rome, too, will be forgotten to time’s abyss.

Frank admitted that it had been a decent life.

Once Charles had died, he was resumed into becoming bedridden.

Not even fate had decided to revive him. The last few years were a test of the waters, to see if he was still viable as a nation. Apparently not.

At last, he felt a twinge within him. In Greek myth, the sisters cut the strings of souls who were due for the Underworld. A nation had one for each citizen within them. Whenever they break, they were unnoticeable, nothing more than the pain of a hair being pulled out. Over the course of centuries, as fewer people aligned themselves as a member of his nation, the strings had been pulled out one by one. Until at last, there was only one strand left.

Frank sighed in relief as the last connection snapped within him. It was the last King, Louis V. He was waiting for that one to break. A nation’s people was everything. He now understood that the condition of leaving your roots to let them start new ones was a consensual one. And now, his time had come.

Perhaps it was the very nature of nations like him. No matter how powerful, it was always the most unexpected and simple route that brought them to their demise. Rome, though mighty and grand, fell at his own power. Even after Hellenising the world, Greece’s empire eventually fell apart due to its size. His demise was not as mighty, or grand, but rather, as a result of some scratches of ink on the paper.

What was born of flames die in flames, and what was born of dirt die of dirt. He had lived for centuries as an empire, so long that he had forgotten his origins as a group of tribes by the Rhine. Wouldn’t living a life of flame mean that one would end in them?

The sound of a door swinging open shocked him out of his thoughts, and he spun his eyes around.

True to his prediction, Francis stood, his blonde hair brushed into a small ponytail. This was the first time that he had seen him in decades. He cleared his throat.

“They call me Frank now.”

“Frank?”

“Or France. I-I’m still calling myself Francis, though.” His voice was shaky as if he was aware that this meant that it was the end of him. Already his legacy had become his, became a part of him. Already had those who called themselves the Franks thought of Francis rather than him as their leader. Frank simply nodded.

“l see. Karl?” Francis frowned a little in response.

“Well… he named himself the Holy Roman Empire.” His title. His name. The Holy Roman Emperor was a name that Charlemagne had been appointed to. And now… now his name was given to his successor. Both of his names were taken. It was funny. Karl, the successor who dreamt of glory, inherited his title, while Francis, the successor who didn’t focus on that as much inherited his original name.

“Francis, listen,” he croaked.

“Hm?”

“My time… it has come to an end,” His vision was darkening, and a feeling in his gut, instinct, told him that it was today.

“An end?” He nodded.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He groaned and felt the muscles in his neck loosen. Francis knelt down and held his skeletal hand, worn out compared to his own, before stroking it. Frank frowned, remembering his tactics to win his affections. “I know you want to be my true successor.”

A gasp escaped out of Francis. He sighed, as he searched for an answer. “I… I want to be loved. Admired. Like you.” Love. Admiration. Ironically both concepts that his reign had lacked. Did anyone love him? Did anyone admire him? No.

“I was never loved or admired, Francis. No one remembers me now. Unless you rise to the glory of Rome himself, unless you reconquer all of Europe again, you will forever be stuck in the shadow of the greats. Forever you will be forgotten by history as just another impersonator.” Realising his muscles were tense, he lied back down. “Look at me, for example. Does anyone still admire me?”

“I admire you! Karl-”

“I am respected only because I mimicked Rome. But what else is there? Tell me!” He scolded. Francis took a step back. Frank calmed down as a headache rose. “If you want to be loved, don't follow my footsteps. More than one nation wants to rise to the glory of Rome, but few succeed." There were so many more things he wanted to say. Who will admire you once they forget you? And even if your legacy was admired, what good was it to lead more people to the hopeless endeavour of fame? He chose to stay quiet. "I doubt that they were loved because of it. Understood?”

“... I-”

“Yes or no, do I have to repeat myself?”

“No, you don't. I understand.” Frank’s features relaxed.

“Good.”

When he lied back and closes his eyes, a small smile formed on the side of his mouth. His vision darkened much faster than usual, but not of drowsiness.

Death was easier than falling asleep. With sleep, you had to be drowsy first. With death, you simply lie back and let be.

I’m still unsure about the date that Frank died tho since people still saw themselves as the Franks. I found out that the Capetian Dynasty, the dynasty that succeeded the Carolingian Dynasty, saw themselves as Frankish. So I could just mark Frank’s death with the date of the last ruler’s death, right? Well nope, cause this dynasty ended during the French Revolution. Just imagine the comedy!

“Francis. Listen. My time… it has come to an end.”

“You’ve been dying and saying that for 900 years now oh my lord”

Thank you for reading!

[buckyrecs]

series

.

guiding light [wkemeup]: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

.

1940′s au

sugar [softlybarnes]: By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war. 

.

biker au

delicate edges [wkemeup]: Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You’re trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

swallow [all1e23]: Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.  You’re the only thing in this world that matters, and he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back, even if that means destroying everything he built. None of it mattered without youSwallows choose a mate for life, and will only nest with that bird and no other; they travel long distances apart only to find their way to back to each other, again and again. Bucky knew the second he met you. You’re his other half; you’re his swallow.

different city, same heart: A lot has changed over the last year but a few things have stayed the same. 

pretty girl: Bucky finally gets to talk to the girl that’s stolen his heart. 

.

brother’s best friend trope

the virgin’s arrangement [gagmebucky]: For twenty years, you’ve endured an involuntary aromantic and abstinent life. As the only woman in your family of a single father and two brothers, they’ve purposely shaped your path to be without contact to the opposite sex. Utilizing their prominent reputation in your town, you’re branded to remain untouched. However, upon graduating and enrolling in college, a certain ravenousness has gripped you. So despite your family’s archaic insistence of maintaining your ‘purity,’ you secretly seek out all the libertine experiences you’ve read and watched online. The hunt provided in the sense you began a libidinous correspondence with an older man online. Things take a turn when you attempt to sext said man but the pornographic images send to your brothers’ lifelong best friend, James Bucky Barnes. Resulting, he learns of your double life, and like your brothers, he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. In this instance, when he realizes you won’t be shaken from your mission, he offers a solution: so long as you end with the stranger, he’ll show you things in bed you’ve only dreamed of. 

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bodyguard au

seeing red [mypoisonedvine]: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

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detective au

the witness [wkemeup]: Owner of a bar full of criminals, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you’re the sole witness to a hydra hit. In comes Detective Barnes, the quick-witted, flirtatious cop who somehow became a regular at your misfit bar. When he takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

.

fbi au

by any other name [wkemeup]: Special Agent Bucky Barnes has been known by many names. He’s used to taking on new identities and dismantling criminal enterprises from the inside. When he’s tasked with infiltrating Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife to the head of Hydra... you. 

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single parent au

astrophile [all1e23]: Orion Rebecca Barnes’s favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love.All thanks to the girl who owns the bookstore?

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sugar daddy au

sugary sweet [all1e23]: Is it all just sugar or something more?

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[thelanternlight]

5.20.2020 Wednesday Morning

Last night I had a very vivid and intense dream about the apocalypse. Corona virus had swept the world much more severely than anyone had anticipated. It was about a year or so into the future and the majority of people all over the planet were already dead. I remember the dream opened with me and some other people wading through swampy water on a cloudy, dismal day. The water slowly kept rising and I and the others had come here to drown ourselves (or allow the alligators in the water to eat us) in order to die more quickly. Every human being was expected to die and as a result people were either committing suicide or killing each other. Society had long since collapsed totally. And this was our fate, to either allow the virus to kill us slowly or to get on with it.

I and the others were in the swamp for a good while. When it was already too deep to stand in we decided that our basic self-preservation instincts were making it all the harder to kill ourselves so some of us started talking, right there out in the swamp on this tedious and heart-wrenchingly dull day, that we would choose to prolong our lives and leave the water. It was a long discussion and the decision was not important. It was simply "even this is taking too long, why not just continue to go about our lives?" our lives of course having been reduced by that point to merely awaiting death. I remember clearly thinking "so this is how the world ends... this is the end of the world. I lived to see it. And instead of some major catastrophe it ends slowly and quietly."

The dream bounced around through various scenes. I realized that Myrtle Snow was there and for the rest of the saga I alternated between actually being her and just watching her from outside myself. She was exactly as she was in AHS, especially Coven. She was smart and ambitious and her natural goal was to preserve life and find a way to fix everything. And impeccably dressed. She went around to various groups looking for people to help her save the world. Some joined but by and large everyone - and I mean everyone - had given up hope and were just waiting to die. People were hoarding as much medicine and food as they could but even their minuscule stockpiles were uselessly paltry. Those who had retained their sanity could only pretend that there was enough to do even one person any good, purely out of pity.

I remember being in some side alley in London. I feel like the Supreme was there (Cordelia) but she wasn't the prominent figure in the dream. It was mostly following Myrtle/myself. I remember being in a bank, all dilapidated and crumbling from the riots and looting that had taken place months before. The manager was there, an older gentleman who was probably very kind and happy before everything went to hell. Anyways he pushed a check into my hand for all the money the bank was worth. Some obscene amount that he made me promise to keep safe and use wisely if ever I had the chance. I agreed, because again that's what you did with crazy people, but secretly scoffed mentally at the sheer absurdity of thinking this piece of paper had any value left. And then moments later, I looked up and the people around me (there was a small crowd in the bank seeking refuge) began to duck because someone had stood up with a bomb and had thrown it at us. Instantly I realized it was the bank manager and he was now dead. I covered my head as it went off killing some but sparing most (it wasn't a very sophisticated bomb). And just when we all thought the explosion was over another man stood up and detonated a second bomb. I survived this one as well but a few others did not. As debris rained down on us I (as myself) and Myrtle and some of the others hurriedly left.

I next remember being in a car with my sister on my right and a few others squeezed in. The driver was a woman I didn't recognize. She was handing me a wad of cash, a somewhat sizeable amount but cash all the same (and therefore useless). She asked someone to keep it hidden on their person. I was already carrying the check so I volunteered to do it but my sister said she'd hold on to it instead (I remember looking at her and saying "Ok, you're gonna play banker?" as we always did when we were kids playing Monopoly). She did not reappear in the dream again. And suddenly I was at a train station somewhere that was in ruins. There was a dugout of sorts where I and others were hiding out, still contemplating how to kill ourselves so as to escape the tedium of life punctuated only by brief hysteria. Someone threw down a box of human eyeballs in front of me. The box was cardboard and wet and disgusting. I had no idea what it meant but it also didn't matter. It was implied that this might be food if it came to it.

The next few scenes are a blur. But they involved Myrtle/myself finally getting some traction on her quest to save the world. She/I didn't have any real plan but we knew the virus had to contained and that it was being spread by people, or even some sort of demonic type of person. She used her magic to do various things such as opening doors and all that, and I recall being in some basement in some random house where she was going to conjure water, as in create water right on the floor of the basement - I think the intention may have been to create a makeshift reservoir of clean potable water that could also be kept hidden, protected, and controlled. She/I was trying to think of the best spell to do it with a few obvious methods but before "we" could settle on something the dream shifted again.

We were in some airport because one of the planes was still operational. Cordelia was there and Myrtle, me, and I think one other person who had joined us. Suddenly though Myrtle disappeared, and then I was her having suddenly been transported against my will to another place I didn't recognize. There was a woman looking at me and talking to me. I knew she was enchanted to appear normal and was really one of the demon-people who was spreading the virus. I watched from outside myself (as neither Myrtle nor myself) as the woman shrunk Myrtle to a height of just a few inches. "She's going to be so pissed off," I heard Cordelia say out of nowhere, "she hated this the first time it happened too." And as Cordelia's voice said this I saw broken ground as though a meteor had hit it with a large, round planet earth nested inside the hole, and Myrtle's tiny form was thrown at it. As this was done she shrank even more and was sort of "transported" to wherever it is she "landed".

Next I remember Cordelia and I back in the real world. We were meeting with some man but I don't recall the details of the meeting at all. Only that as we approached there was a small doll on a shelf and Cordelia sort of did a second take to look at it. She said quietly to me that we should be on the lookout for any signs from Myrtle that show she's making progress toward "getting back".

Meanwhile in whatever alternate dimension Myrtle was in, I was her again and sometimes outside of her watching. She was in a parking lot of hills. There was a young man walking. I was sitting in a limo watching him. The driver got out and casually went over near him but not close enough to draw the young man's attention. Another woman and what was likely her daughter appeared off to the side walking the same way as the young man. These two were important somehow and so Myrtle sent a message to the driver to "stand down" regarding the young man because he posed no threat. The driver returned to the limo and drove slowly toward the mother and daughter. I realized that the limo was stuffed with fresh food and water and everything someone could possibly need during an apocalypse. As we met them the dream changed and I don't know what became of that meeting but it was implied that it had gone well.

Next I was in a chair as Myrtle talking to two new young men. One was a very light skinned black guy who was handsome with bright eyes. The other was his best friend, a white young man who was perhaps less attractive and intelligent but still kind. I knew that they were innocent and that they held the key to me (as Myrtle) returning to the real world although neither of them knew it. As we were talking the black guy mentioned that my arm was bleeding. I glanced down at it, and saw my left arm did appear to have a little blood on it. I wasn't exactly bleeding so much as manifesting the blood. It was somehow linked to a "real body" elsewhere and as I "synced up" with it I took on small injuries it had sustained. It was a good sign. But it also sort of freaked out the boys and I had to reassure them that everything was fine. And then I (again, as Myrtle) sort of faded out of that world and returned to the real world.

At this point I/Myrtle was well on the way to making real progress toward saving the world. There was a lot of work to do still but I had reached a few milestones and momentum had started pushing me and Cordelia and whoever else had joined us towards our goal of righting the world and stopping the virus. Unfortunately my alarm went off at 5:45 am and I was unable to complete the dream. But in summation, what stands out about this dream was its consistency and its vivid realism. What it felt like to resign yourself so completely to death. What it was like to contemplate the end of the world. Especially being in the swamp initially... the rising water. The threat of unseen dangers... It was like the natural world itself was deconstructing into more simplified elements. The environment was un-making itself and that alone was horrifying and threatening. Yet even so it was all so incredibly boring. Scary beyond belief but quiet and tedious and dull. Waiting for death. Having to choose between suicide or scraping by to live an empty existence purely for the sake of pursuing whatever small amount of life was still possible. But then the absolute lightning rod of Myrtle's presence, like a spark of divine fire that grew and grew, gave me such hope. There was purpose and meaning again because of her, and reaching for a solution when literally no one else on earth thought one was possible Myrtle Snow (and Cordelia when she was there) galvanized a way.

Myrtle Snow is of course a hero of mine, but more than that perhaps the dream was a metaphor for fears surrounding the actual corona virus. Or else merely an over-exaggerated dread of having to go back into the office and the dismal gray world of my job. Or maybe it's even fears of the economy and the politics of today's world, or of capitalism itself with all its shortcomings, failures, and brokenness. To me Myrtle is someone who is fiercely and purely good. And her nature, the nature of good, is to never give up hope and to always reach towards life and what is right. To find a way through anything, even the actual end of the world. So whatever's going on in my subconscious, I hope this dream helped resolve some of it...

[mynarcissticex]

This has been one of the most difficult last 5 months of my life.. but I think I am finally ready to put it all to bed for my own sanity.

July 20th 2019… was meant to be the happiest day of my life. The day I moved in with my best friend, soulmate, my person. I wanted to wake up giddy and nervous, excited to be with the man I fought hard for last year . I yearned to be swept off my feet by him and begin a new adventure together I was ready despite keeping my past a secret and having to self protect myself (for my own personal reasons)

But none of that happened how it should of done, Just like thought it probably wouldn't 3 years ago, The man I had fallen in love with at the beginning was not the man I always thought he was, And it has shaken my character to its very core coming to that realisation, The life I so desperately wanted to live with him was never going to exist. Our relationship would not be peaceful, supportive, mutual, and loving and it took 4 years for me to realize that this man was not right for me either, I knew he had issues but not the extent he showed me last year... I even gave him a second chance after he broke my heart. I invested in him more than I have ever ever invested in anyone and I made some piss poor decisions that I will regret ultimately for the rest of my life. I’ve always done things out of love for him or not at all.

I chose Matt out of the pick of men I could of easily of dated but life wanted to punish me by giving me another narcissist... and in the beginning he made me feel special (lovebombing) when he felt like it, but he did not make me feel valued. When I first took notice of him, I was 27 and completely infatuated. For months, I believed nothing would come of it I thought he would end up being just like my ex, on June 20th 2014 we went on our first date and I was smitten. I felt like I had been picked out of the crowd, I was the lucky winner of a long sought-after prize. And when red flags began to appear, I willfully ignored all of them. Verbal abuse began a month into dating . I had just moved house and was going through a difficult time and dealt with it alone, he told me he hated the long-distance but made the effort to travel to see me once a week Twice if I was lucky, I would clean up after him and buy our food and cook and pay for most things because he had little money I didn’t really care as I was just happy in his company at the time he was like a happy pill to me, I would Make so much effort compared to Matt our relationship felt one sided... He would become very angry if I forgot little things, so I tried my best to do everything to his specifications. I wanted to prove how serious I was and looking back he did very little not even the basic of things even a cuddle was a chore to him!

He wanted to know alot who I was hanging out with and where I was at all times If I did not answer my phone or texts sometimes he would immediately interrogate me. He was paranoid and I was never unfaithful to him, He would become greatly upset sometimes if I chose to see my family for a night rather than be with him. Sometimes he would come round to my House after not seeing him for a week or two... and I would be thrown in a panic over what mood he might be in or to make sure I cook us lavish meals, I was constantly made to feel I was not doing enough. When it was him that wasn't doing anything at all he was just bone idle. At the time, I saw it all as a sacrifice for a man that I desperately loved and wanted to prove my loyalty to him, I was going through the worst too at the time and hid it and brushed it under the rug in fear of speaking up I thought you’d never care or understand what I’m going through and he was very insecure and extremely difficult to communicate with and more often than not would take offence or get angry if I spoke to him about anything or he just would sit in silence, I was already separated from my ex husband 4 years prior to meeting Matt, I was living with my ex husband but in separate rooms and we had complete separate lives he didn’t always care what I did neither did I we just lived in the same house for financial reasons.

Slowly, I became more and more isolated in Romford and even where I’m at now, And had also lost myself along the way. I became so caught up in pleasing Matt, that I lessened my own wants and desires. His hold on me was even tighter. I spent alot of times paying for hotels in the past so we could spend more time together I was hoping he would be happier that he had more time with me, but it still was not enough for him it was like trying to fill a bucket with holes.

But I was still crumbling on the inside. In 2015 I started hitting the wine excessively everytime he came to visit me I used to fear the sound of his bike pull up on my drive I used to think what mood is he going to be in today how many eggshells do I need to tread on around him... sometimes instead of greeting me at the door with a kiss or a hug he would straight away smirk at me and berate me for the dry skin on my nose (he did this often), often arguing with me over trivial things until I broke down in tears on many occasions I knew there was something wrong with Matt when he happily watched me cry inconsolably over something he had done and he didn't even flinch or attempt to apologise until the damage was already done, I stayed in my quiet demeanor a lot I was already living in a situation I felt like I couldn't talk to a soul about I felt trapped... My life seemed so perfect on the outside, but inside the depression was beginning to consume me slowly chipping away at me and so was Matt. I tried leaving him several times in 5 years but somehow he always had a way of manipulating me back in.

There was no say in my own life anymore. If we had any fun (rarely) it was on his terms. I was walking a very narrow line with no room for deviation. As some would say, it was his way or the highway.

He would criticise me for most things, and didn't care about my feelings in anything it was all about him and his needs... Talking to him was often like trying to nail jelly to the wall! I ended up keeping things from him that I was currently going through in fear of how he would react, he regularly got angry if I had the audacity to stand up for myself to him he hated being told anything he didn't want to hear or if I didn’t give in... he would kick off like a child having a tantrum and sometimes he would break items of mine. And accuse me of provoking him when all I was doing was trying to find out why he was in a bad mood for no reason I wanted to connect with him and just have a good time together but he made that almost impossible and instead carefully twisted it around to be my fault. I just drank wine all day sometimes to block it out until I fell asleep.

Without getting into the all the details, a particular fight had gone too far 3 months into living together I had told him over dinner that I can’t keep helping him with the bills we agreed after I paid 16k upfront in rent to live here and that the utility bills were his responsibility... as I’d already invested 51k into him I had literally spent half of my life savings after giving him another chance last year I did everything I could for Matt but it was never enough he showed little to no appreciation he just wanted a constant supply of everything from me. the darkness I felt this time was more than I could bare. I wanted to end it and that’s when I realised after everything I went through with my ex on a similar level I couldn’t put myself through another year of it, I fought long and hard to get out of my previous relationship and thanks to my dads help last June I felt like what was supposed to be my clean break turned into a living nightmare infact worse if I had stayed with my, I had spent 4 years being told and feeling like I wasn’t good enough by Matt and I came to believe that I never would be for him. He dehumanised me so much to this point often subtly about various things I felt worthless to him.

I deep down loved Matt for the good hearted person he tried to be, but he had this side to him that outweighed the good and last feb when he out of the blue left me for another woman 2 days after we broke up which took me weeks to find out it destroyed me and I wish I took that as my blessing instead when he came crawling and grovelling back to me the day she broke up with him (which I didn’t know at the time) I fell hook line and sinker for his fake remorse and empathy because I thought it was sincere but it was all part of his game plan to get the debt we got into paid off and his 14k tmax I promised him in 2018 when we were happy together. Not only did he still get all of that from me after what he did he was able to live life at my expense for 5 months after and I used to just comply to keep the peace there was nothing I wouldn’t of done for Matt because I was drunk in love and kept on creating this version in my head of who he might become after I changed my entire life around for us. And this is why I knew not to do it 3 years ago even if I could of done. The day I came clean to him about being married and separated (which had no relevance to anyone but myself) but if you’re with a narcissist and you hit them with a truth they hate it because it blows their fake world apart... the 10th nov 2019 5 months after living together was really the day I clearly woke the fuck up and said to myself despite my past or my mistakes I know I deserve more than this man who brings nothing to my table but emotional abuse and misery. I’ve been through too much to this point to put myself through it again and I had to draw the line before he rinsed me out of more money because he couldn't be responsible for his part in anything he would prioritise supplies of cannabis and hair supplements over paying the gas and electric bill and I had no idea how much he was earning at work because he was so private about everything. I felt like I was being under Coercive control all over again.

And this is where it all starts to make sense. In October I paid to see a professional to seek some advice from a top psychiatrist to get a diagnosis on behalf of matt after reading out a list of things describing how he acted 24/7 and how he spoke to me about anything even when he was angry. after 1 hour she told me Matt is likely Under cluster a,b,c and made me do a personality test on his behavioural traits and it just naturally clicked in that moment it dawned on me what I was dealing with I never healed the cause of why I chose the 1st narc and then you get hurt worse by the 2nd narc and get told it’s a result of being abused by your biological father. you just feel broken by all the people everywhere and end up remaining completely alone, I broke down after that session and ended up sitting in the pub for an hour by myself going over the fact I was completely blinded for all this time. It absolutely killed me... because of all the decisions I made prior to this. I mean him leaving me for another woman this time last year behind my back was enough warning of what he was capable of but this man went above and beyond to destroy my heart for the last time... I kinda felt sorry for him too because there’s really no cure for his issues I thought to myself I’d love to help Matt but unfortunately you can’t help someone who sees no issue in who they are as a person. It’s time to free myself now and work on my issues instead of trying to fix his.

So now… the new life alone begins. One that I did not want to face. I wanted to be happily living with Matt it was supposed to be our happy ever after, A part of me still does. But I can’t look back now. I have goals and aspirations I still want to get accepted into uni and learn psychology/nutrition and achieve my dream career and be fully sober, I have to learn to find value in myself now. I have to hold my head high even on the days that I feel my worst. I have the most amazing support system my friends and family have been legends lately, I literally wouldn’t be here without all of them. I am still healing. I have outbursts of anger and sadness and I am trying to wade through it all.. I have learned what it means to set boundaries now as I never did in the past and that’s why I’ve been a doormat to men... and what I cannot tolerate in a relationship. I have grown tremendously from this experience but there is still more growing to do and healing from my CPTSD and health issues from being involved with these men.

What I have learnt is No one is worth sacrificing what you hold. It doesn’t matter if he is good-looking or promises you the whole world if he does not show you respect now or then he never will. Love is blind. Your family and your friends will see the red flags in them before you are willing to accept them. Listen to them. Listen to yourself I even failed to listen to Matts dad when he warned me about his son... but moral of the story is Every person is deserving of a love that sets their soul on fire, as well as provides a place to rest when weary. This world is harsh sometimes, so hold onto those who are kind to you. For now, I will be focusing on myself, my goals, my life, and my family and friends. And healing. I have one last shot at my life now to get it right it’s now or never.

[imagines-dreams]

Not Your Fault Part 2 - Barry Allen Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warning: self-doubt, violence (its the flash guys), and Barry being an awkward pining adorkable dork

Summary: Part 2 to Not Your Fault. It’s been months since Knockout has been “missing.” Since you’ve lost your super strength. But, you had to move on. That’s easier said than done.

Word Count: 3846

Notes: …. it’s looonngg

It was another day at Star labs. You gathered your things. “I’m off to work then the library to hit the books. Now, don’t get into too much trouble, Team Flash.”

“No promises!” Cisco shouted back.

Barry smiled as you left and sighed before changing out of his Flash suit. He wondered if he should visit you at work. You were working so hard. On top of your job, you were teaching yourself everything you could about everything you could get your hands on. With a slump of his shoulders, your best friend thought of you and how you’ve been feeling lately. It’s been a few months since you lost your powers, and Knockout was “missing.” He knew you were trying to make up for not having powers. He had no clue why you were doing that. You did so much already, but Barry wasn’t sure what he could do. On top of the fact that he was constantly flustered around you and he was always speechless when you were in front of him. It was confusing.

So, he goes to Joe.

“So you feel that you’re in love with this girl?” Joe clarified.

Barry blushed and nodded. “I just… I don’t want to add something else to her plate. She’s stressed out and recovering and on a journey of her own. I don’t want to… But, maybe it will make it better? I… I want to help, but I don’t know how.” Barry stuttered for words before letting his head drop.

“Hey.” Joe patted his shoulder. “If this girl really means that much to you-”

“More than anything.”

“Then, let her work whatever issues she has now. She’s more important than the romance. Just stay by her side. Make sure you’re there for her. Help her when she needs it.” The father shrugged. “It’s all you can do.”

Your best friend smiled. “Thanks, Joe.”

You were at work, an ok restaurant in a bad part of town. It paid well, and not too many bad people started fights with you. Plus, metas visited the place to meet up, talk, and plan.

“Hey, Miss!”

You smiled. “Yes, sir?”

“Turn up the tv, please.”

“Of course.” You grabbed the remote and watched the volume go up. It was the news channel. “It has been four months since Knockout was last seen in Central City,” a reporter said.

You gulped and wiped down a few tables, but the news kept on going. “Many speculate that Knockout has moved to another city because her ex-partner, the Flash, and his new team of speedsters have it handled in Central City.”

Metas and humans alike started to whisper with their own theories and opinions about your old self.

You scrubbed the tables harder. Pain pierced your skull as you tried to think of something other than the fact that you no longer had powers or super strength or the capabilities you used to. You grit your teeth and fisted the rag in your hand. Were you even doing anything in Team Flash? Before, you were the strength. You trained Barry when he got powers. You got information from people. You stopped villains with one punch.

Then, your powers were taken, and…

You would’ve done it again in a heartbeat. Barry Allen was your best friend. But.. you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you still had your powers. You could’ve prevented so many things. Grod needed a good kick in the gut. That one meta that destroyed everything, you could’ve stopped him before he threatened Iris. You weren’t a speedster, but Savitar could’ve used a good knockout.

If only you had just-

“(Y/n)!”

You blinked and straightened. “Boss?”

The woman looked at her watch. “Your shift’s been over for thirty minutes.” She took the rag from you. “Go home. Not the library, home. Please.”

You sighed at the thought of going home. Home to comfort food and a soft bed and your best friend. Barry offered you to stay at his apartment ever since the nightmares started. They stopped a few weeks before, but neither you nor Barry wanted to to be separated.

You agreed with your boss. “Fine.”

You walked down the streets. It was nearing sunset. The streets were dark. You were alone. You weren’t stupid.

You held your keys in your fists, and your eyes darted around every few seconds. Nothing was too suspicious. Then, you heard the tv blasting from inside a bar. Thankfully, every drunkard was still inside and listening intently to the reporter.

“Knockout’s statue at the center of our city is being repolished. A ceremony will be held a week from now, the anniversary of her first appearance in Central City six years ago. We all hope she shows up to celebrate with us.”

You stared at the screen from outside, and your vision grew cloudy. You sniffed and wiped your tears. Your fingers and arms shook violently. You dropped your keys. You shook your head and bent down to pick them up from the cracked pavement.

You remembered how the pavement always used to crack beneath you. Especially when you were angry. Or terrified. Your heart vibrated against your ribcage, which in turn rattled like wind chimes in a hurricane.

Crr-rack!

“Take me out, you take out the pride of Central City,” you had said to Zoom.

You brought your hand to your chest and pressed it against your racing heart. Maybe, with enough pressure, it would stop and you could stroll back home to Barry without painful memories, nightmares, whatever you want to call them plaguing you.

“What did you do?” your best friend had shouted, “What happened to her?!”

Barry’s voice had been so shrill. Your vision was blurry after Zoom stabbed you with two needles filled with poison meant for him.

“(Y/n),” Barry had pleaded, “please,” he stroked your hair, “please, stay with me.” He had held you in his arms and cried in your shoulder before rushing back inside Star Labs. He had held your hand tightly. You remember because comforting warmth had enveloped your hand and became the only thing that tethered you to your sanity. “Barry?”

“You’re going to be just fine. I promise you. (Y/n), please, I can’t lose you, too.”

You smiled and gripped his hand. “Anything for Speedo.” You laughed and tried to cup his cheek for comfort. Your fingers had almost been there, but you had lost consciousness before you could.

Barry had cried and had held your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. He had prayed to whatever higher being that you would be spared. Your best friend had survived time travel, other dimensions, and metas that kill whatever they touch, but you not being in his life? That, he knew he couldn’t survive.

“Help!”

You snapped out of your daze and whipped your head around to find the voice. A young man, college maybe, was struggling in the dark. Three thugs, way taller and significantly stronger than you were, stood over his form.

Before you could stop yourself, you shouted, “Hey!”

The three glared at you. Then, they laughed.

You looked down at yourself. You were still in your waitress outfit with scrapes on your knees and dried tears on your cheeks. You looked ridiculous. Might as well hold a teddy bear and pull your hair up into pigtails.

Fear crept up on you and strangled you. You couldn’t breathe. What were you thinking?! You couldn’t defeat these guys. You weren’t Knockout! Not anymore.

Barry. You needed Barry.

You reached for your phone, but one of the thugs threw your phone on the ground. “And what is a pretty lady like you doing here?”

You gulped. You had to say something! How would Knockout do it? What would she say? You pictured the statue in the center of the city. You puffed out your chest. Afraid your voice would crumble, you spoke slowly and softly, “I can’t let you hurt him.”

“And what will you do?”

Then, you did something stupid. You punched him right in the jaw and followed with a kick in the shin and another punch that tipped him off balance. You cursed inwardly. Out of all things to keep from your superhero days, you kept the impulsiveness.

The thug rubbed his jaw. “Oh, you’re in for it now, girlie.”

Before you could do anything, your stomach exploded in pain, and you were thrown right into the brick wall. You groaned. No superpowers, no regenerative abilities. You missed that.

You struggled to get up. “I’m not done with you,” you muttered.

Why did you have to say that? Why did you have to have over five years of superheroing under your belt? That was pure instinct!

The three thugs scoffed and laughed. “She’s back for more!”

The one who talked the most motioned for his friends to back up. Then, he threw a punch.

You dodged it and kicked his stomach. It didn’t do much, but it caught him off balance. You hooked your foot on his ankle and pulled back. The thug fell onto the floor. However, he still jumped right back up.

The other two growled, while their leader motioned for them to finish you off.

You knew you couldn’t take on two of them. Even with experience and training, you would not be able to overpower either of them. The only thing you could do was get Barry.

You lunged for your phone and clicked the power button twice.

A punch knocked your jaw to the side so hard you were scared it disconnected from your skull.

“That’s enough!” someone shouted.

It wasn’t Barry. Or Jessie. Or Wally. It was someone you didn’t know, and you weren’t sure if that should’ve relieved you or scared you.

The owner of that voice, someone dressed up in a suit and tie, walked over to you.

You used all the energy you had left to scooch away from him, but with a bruised back and throbbing jaw, it didn’t do much. The man stared at you and smirked. He gripped the front of your shirt and lifted you up like a doll and slammed right into the brick wall.

You screamed in pain and slumped against the wall. You noticed how the wall seemed to dip when your body was pushed up against it.

This wasn’t an ordinary. This man was a meta. With super strength.

Super strength was a gift, and, out of all things to do, this man used it for intimidation?! You growled and spit on his face.

The man chuckled. “Feisty one, eh? You know, I only needed him.” The man nodded to the college student. “But, you? I could kill you right now.”

You gulped.

“(Y/n)!”

You bit your tongue. Barry.

You snickered. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”

The man turned his head and saw the three famous speedsters. However, instead of cowering or reaching for a weapon, his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. It sent shivers down your spine.

“You think I didn’t plan for this?” the man said. He nodded to his three thugs. “Get rid of them.”

The thugs nodded and went off.

The man pulled out some brass knuckles and slipped them on. He clenched his fist and placed it right by your head. “Now what to do with you.”

Barry was screaming as he fought. “Let her go!”

You trembled. You’ve been in worst situations, but that was when you had powers. Despite that, you thought back on that statue of your old self, of Knockout. “They’re no match-” Your chest groaned. Talking was not good for your bruised, and maybe broken, back at that moment. So much for witty banter.

The man smirked. “You want to see for yourself?”

You trembled, but you looked anyway. The three thugs were easy to beat and distract, but they recovered easily. Barry had punched one right in the nose so fast that the nose looked unnaturally askew. However, the thug just popped it right back in its place and continued fighting.

You thought back to how the thug leader fell down but quickly got back up. Sure, he was tough, but he should’ve stayed on the floor.

“You enhanced them,” you whispered. You continued to observe the fight. Then, Wally ran up a building, maybe to run back down and create more force behind his punch. However, when he was on top of the building, the thug he was fighting looked confused. He looked around, but he refused to look up.

You gasped. They weren’t real. “Flash, they’re not real!”

Barry stared at you. He listened to his comms and told Jessie to do something. All three speedsters went to the tops of buildings and ran down.

The man dropped you to the floor and ran off.

Before your body could fall to the ground again, Barry caught you. “(Y/n)?”

You smiled a little. “Hey, Speedo.”

“Hold on. We’re gonna get you to Star Labs.” Barry scooped you up and held you close. Then, he sped off. “Caitlin!”

The doctor was already on it. She helped Barry set you down on a bed and got to work.

You laughed a little. “Back here again,” you groaned. You winced as your lungs moved your ribs and back, a bad move.

Your best friend took your hand in his and tried to soothe you as best he could. “Sh, you’re gonna be just fine.”

You smiled. “I know, Barry. Barry, I know.”

Barry had tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. If I’d been faster-”

“If I’d been stronger?” She tried to laugh, but it ended up sounded like a cough. “Barry, there was nothing you could’ve done.”

He pursed his lips. “I could’ve-”

“Barry, can you promise me something?”

He blinked. Barry stood up from his seat and kneeled down beside your bed. “Anything.”

You eyed him up and down. How did you end up with such a great friend? How? You gulped and requested, “When this is done, can you take me home?”

Barry’s eyes twinkled at the mention of your home, the home the two of you shared. He nodded eagerly. “Of course. Of course, I will, (Y/n).”

You wanted to gasp when he looked at you with such passion, relief, and, dare you say, love, in his eyes. His gaze was so intense, and you had never experienced anything like it. Before you knew it, you were beaming, glowing with joy. With Barry’s touch and the warmth in your stomach, you were lulled to sleep.

Caitlin smiled. “She needs rest, Barry.”

Barry nodded. He sat back down and wrung his hands. The message was clear. He was not leaving anytime soon.

“Barry?”

“Yeah, Wally?”

Kid Flash sat next to Barry and sighed. “Are we gonna… do anything for next week?”

“next week?”

“Knockout Day?”

Barry froze. How could he forget? It would be the first Knockout Day without the superpowers. He stared at your sleeping form. He knew you didn’t think of yourself as Knockout. Not after you lost your powers. But, he saw you as Knockout, as the hero he had looked up to since she appeared in her brilliant white and silver suit.

Then, an idea came to Barry. He smiled widely and told Wally, Yeah, we’re gonna do something.”

The next day, you were fine. More or less. You knew that your ribs had suffered. Thankfully nothing punctured any important organs or dislocated some vertebrae. Your ribs, however, were cracked in a few places. Caitlin had wrapped you in medical tape, and you had to breathe differently. Cisco had invented a piece of cloth that stayed cold for 12 hours and could be wrapped around your chest. Barry was with you every step of the way and didn’t want you to lift a finger for the first few days. All in all, all of your friends were amazing.

Then, a few days later, Barry was acting… weird. Weirder than usual. He was always snickering and talking in hushed whispers like gossiping moms. It kinda scared you.

You cleared your throat as you caught barry and Cisco whispering excitedly. “Hey, boys.”

Both of the scientists stared at each other. Cisco promptly shoved Barry in your direction, ran away, and shouted, “Not today!”

“What’s going on?” you asked him. “You’ve been acting strange.”

Barry laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “I-I am not acting… differently. I’m just, uh, inherently a strange person.” He nodded, more to himself than you. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“What’s going on? And don’t you dare say nothing. I may not have powers, and my ribs are fractured, but I can still beat you in a fight, Speedo.”

Barry smiled softly. He loved you so much. He hoped what he was about to do would make you happy. He held out his hand. “Don’t you trust me, (Y/n)?”

You stared at his hand. You bit your lip and took his hand. “Yeah.”

Barry lead you to the hidden room in the hallway, the one the first Wells used as his lair.

You gulped. “Barry, what is this?”

Barry took a deep breath. “The team and I have been working on something, and I wanted it to be a surprise.” He fiddled with his thumbs and kept swinging his arms around.

You stared at him. “Usually, when you have a surprise for me, you’re more jittery and smiley. Barry, if you’re nervous-”

“No, I just… I’m scared of your reaction.”

You pursed your lips. “Look, I threaten to beat you up, but I won’t actually beat you up.”

Barry smiled a little. “Yeah.” He licked his lips and pressed a button on the wall. A panel opened up and revealed a suit. A white and silver suit.

You gasped. It was an altered form of your old Knockout suit. Your old suit was skin tight and covered your entire body. Your old mask was simple masquerade mask that only covered the area around the eyes.

The new gear retained your signature colors, white and silver. Instead of a full-body suit, it was a pair of white leggings, a white hoodie with pockets, and a silver mask. On a stand, there were brass knuckles. These weren’t ordinary brass knuckles, though. They had gaps and buttons and all sorts of things.

Enamored, you picked up one and felt its weight. It was, for lack of a better description, a perfect fit. You laid a thumb on one of the buttons, and it transformed. The knuckles whirred and turned into four separate rings. You gasped and pressed another button, it the brass knuckle built itself up into its original form.

You laughed and wiped your tears. You had a feeling you knew what this was for, but still, you asked, “Barry, what is this?”

“I know you don’t think you’re a hero anymore.”

You whipped around. “Barry-”

“No, I know that’s how you feel. That’s why you go to the library and risk your life by working in that restaurant. You’re trying to compensate for losing your powers, and you don’t have to because you are an amazing addition to the team.” Barry huffed. He had tears in his eyes as he continued to ramble, “(Y/n), you are a hero, and you always have been. Even after Zoom and everything, you continue to help me, Wally, Jessie, Central City. You have years of experience that help us determine whether something is a trap or not. You know when something is fake or real. You have saved my life over and over again, and I am so grateful to have you in my life.” Barry sighed and licked his lips.

You put on a tightly-wound smile. “Barry, I… I couldn’t even…” You weren’t sure if that pain in your chest was your ribs or just the sobs you tried to keep down. You shook your head. “I couldn’t even take down that meta who held me up to a wall. I couldn’t-”

Barry grabbed your hands. “You saved us, (Y/n). You realized those thugs were fake, just weird biology machines. Without you, we would’ve tired ourselves out fighting things that would’ve kept on fighting.” Your best friend wiped away your tears. He smiled and kissed your forehead. “This suit is to remind you that you still are that hero.” He touched your nose. “My hero.”

You laughed and pushed Barry away from you. “A hero with broken ribs, Speedo?”

“A hero,” he reached for the other brass knuckle and slipped it onto your fingers, “who has trained for many years,” he took the mask and placed it delicately on your face, his fingers linger on your skin, “and has one of the best strategic minds the world has ever known.” Barry smiled. “That’s who Knockout is. It’s who you are. With or without super strength.”

You laughed. Warmth spread throughout your chest, and you felt good. If the Flash, hero of Central City and your best friend, thought you were a hero, then you must’ve been one heck of a person. Maybe he was wrong, but that didn’t matter. Because when he looked at you like that, with confidence and passion in his eyes, what else could possibly matter? You hadn’t felt like that in such a long time.

Then, Barry’s eyes widened. He was so close to you. Inches away from your face. If he leaned just a little forward…

“Of course,” Barry took a step back, “you still have to rest for a bit over than a month. Make sure your ribs heal correctly, not that I don’t think they will. Then you can continue training and punching things and taking me on. In sparring! Of course, and whatnot. Yeah.” Barry avoided your gaze, and his cheeks reddened.

You beamed. The laugh you tried to force in, stumbled out of your lips. You held your ribs and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Barry. This is wonderful.”

Barry’s cheeks got even redder. “You’re, uh…”

You giggled. “Welcome?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that.” Barry nodded. “You’re welcome, (Y/n).”

How were you so lucky? Every time you felt down, Barry was there to pick you back up and remind you about all the good deeds you’ve done. Barry Allen really was a hero. Not just as the Flash or a scientist. No. Just by being your friend and pulling you out of your sadness, Barry had become your hero. And in that moment, even though he was obviously flustered, Barry still gazed at you like you like you were the moon and stars. You couldn’t help but look at him the same way.

“Did you tell her yet?!”

Barry and you jumped away from each other.

Cisco smirked. “Did I interrupt something?” He waggled his eyebrows. Then, he eyes caught the brass knuckles. He shouted, “My pride and joy!” He held your hand in his, examining the fit. “Perfect for when you announce your coming back into the world.”

“My coming back?” You stared at Barry.

Barry nodded. “(y/n), tomorrow is Knockout Day. I was thinking you could introduce yourself. New gear and everything.”

You gulped. “Barry, I’m different now. They’ll have to know I don’t have powers.”

“And that’s fine. They’ll accept you. I’m sure of it.” He smiled and held your shoulders. “How can they not?”

You bit your lip. “Ok.” You laughed a little. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Barry hugged you loosely. He didn’t want to fracture your ribs even more.

Cisco whooped and pumped his fists. “Knockout’s back, baby!”

You beamed. This was going to be fun.

If you guys haven’t noticed, my imagines are becoming longer and that is because I want to compensate for being absent for such a loong while. I hope it wasn’t too confusing. The romance is more of a subplot while reader finding  herself after the incident. Hopefully that’s ok

Hope you enjoy! Have a wonderful day, readers!

[we-are-richmond]

In the mind of a soldier

WARNING: Violent content, swearing, suicide attempts, you have been warned

I was a retired ex-marine. Spent at least 6 years of my 34 years of life on those fields. The moment I turned 18, I knew what I wanted to do. I knew who I wanted to be, a soldier, a hero. Being right of high school, I thought little to nothing of it. I had been dating a pretty girl I knew around the start of High School, Regina Alvarez. For some reason, I thought I’d come out of those wars a bright shining man, swooping my girl up in my arms, as we happily got married. But… life isn’t that forgiving. Instead, the war shattered my sanity. I came home…someone new. Someone different. I still married with Regina though, got her pregnant with our first child. But that dream, it wasn’t going to be as easy. No restful nights with my beloved, no no. Just agonizing nightmares, that woke me up in fits of screams. My comrades being shoot, the lives I had to take, permeantly engraved into my mind. Lashing out more often then I had before, and with every lash getting more and more verbal. However, Regina stuck by. I truly loved her, even if I had changed. Every time I woke up screaming, or couldn’t sleep, she’d hold my hands and stay up with me, watching our favorite shows on the bed together. Every time I yelled at her, she would be unfazed, and kiss me when it ended. Whenever I was unattached to the world, or thinking horrible thoughts, she’d have a shoulder to lean on, or ears to listen to. If I were to have a flashback, or a rare panic attack, she’d be by my side, embracing me in her warm arms. Anytime I tried to hurt my self, or something else self-destructive, she wouldn’t hesitate to slap me, and lecture about how stupid I was being, that I had a life to live for. She helped me through it. Through my waking nightmare. When the doctor was doing her ultrasound, and I was getting a therapy check, we both got the news. She was having a boy, and I suffered from PTSD. Sounds like she got the better end of the stick. It was getting better, slowly but surely…until… “David, you’ve changed.” Javi would say. That was the first my brother had said to me. For some god damn reason, something in my mind snapped. Like a demon was suddenly born. I began to beat my brother. My fist collided with him, but I had not moved. Yet, I saw it all. It was like my body was being controlled by a demon, a devil that I had turned into. Changed into. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop it. Things between Javi continued to break. Our relationship crumbling as time progressed. But even with that, I felt like my life was slowly being put together again. After our son Gabe was born, it got even greater. A child of my own, to raise and protect. The evil side of me never came out around him. The beast rearing it’s ugly head. But that didn’t mean it didn’t show itself to me or Regina. For some reason, when ever both we gone, or Gabe was with my parents, IT would come out. I would yell at Regina, screaming horrible things at her. Disgusting words would leave my mouth, and it finally got to the point where she would run out of the room crying. Dread would fill me, and I would crumble inside my broken body. My mind shattering, cracking, filling with darkness. Regina would come back, and we’d repeat the cycle over and over again. Until one day the beast took it to far. As if coming out of the pits of hell, ripping my own soul out of my body, and taking over, it did what I never wanted. During a heated argument, and it was stupid honestly. She had been watching the news, and I walked in just as it talked about the war. The beast took control of me, and I watched in pure horror as IT, in my body, screamed at my wife. Regine pleaded with IT, trying to make the beast calm down. The monster…IT…me..? It didn’t listen, and raised his fist. Regina was sent tumbling to the ground, sprawled out in pain. Control of my body came back, my eyes widening what I commited. I tried to help her up, and she pushed me away crying. My heart shattered, splitting with my mind. I remember how in the war, one of my comrades commented how we were killing monsters on those fields. And now every time I envision me killing a soldier in battle…I see myself… Every time I look in my reflection, there’s a beast staring back. I broke all the mirrors in my house, and let my fist just bleed. They would not have been infected if Javi had not come by to visit, and found me sitting in the bathroom bleeding. My younger brother patched me up, and called Regina. Even after all I had done, they still remained with me. Caring. Regina more then Javier, but still caring. And they continued as the years passed. Gabe had turned four before I knew it, and Regina exposed that she was expecting another kid. I was both excited, and worried. Would the beast come out again, and not only hurt my brother, and my wife, but my kids? No! I’d rather die then that. But with a broken mind, being humane can be difficult. I had taken multiple therapy sessions once Regina was hit, I went to everyone of them. I was dedicated to them, vowing Regina I’d get better for her. Promises were never meant to be kept though…. Regina grew very ill during her final trimester, and I had to quit the sessions to help watch Gabe while she stayed at the hospital. The doctors promised they’s help her. But promises aren’t meant to be kept. On her last month, the doctors gave us horrible news. Regina or our unborn baby. Sweet, sweet, Regina said our child right away. I did not deserve her… The doctors begin the labor on the special…awful day, telling us how she wouldn’t last long after the birth. My lovely wife did not mind, and even started going over names as it began. It was worse than last time though. She was screaming more, there was more blood. My mind flashed back to the days on the field, fragments in my head snapping in half. A panic attack came as I was forced to leave my wife alone, I was screaming. Begging, something I never did. I threw punches, yelled, anything to get her. Then there was a pain in my arm. When I came to, I was in the waiting room with my entire family. Little Gabe sat on my father’s lap, Javi next to me, and my mother immediately wrapped around me like a teddy bear. I wish it ended there, but the doctors called me over. They took me to her room, and I saw the dying version of my lover. I was handed our daughter, and I took a seat next to her. “Mariana…my sweet Mari…” Regina rasped out, taking my hand. Such a beautiful name for our little girl, our little miracle. Regina begged me to stay with her for her last moments. This would have to be the promise I kept to her… She held my hand, talking about random things that came to mind. This time I was the shoulder to lean on, the ears she could talk to. I sat for an hour….until I felt the warmth escape from her hands. I watched the life from my wife fade in a matter of seconds. My entire body became numb. Mariana was left at my mothers, and I went bar. Only 28, and already a single father with two young children. I spent hours there, and only left when Uncle Hector and Javi came to grab me. That didn’t stop though. Every weekend, I’d go at the same place, and same time. It was a long process, all the therapy I had before, thrown out the window. Medication for my headaches and flashbacks were losing effect. And with the beer…one day it became to much for my mind and body. The beast inside me clawed violently at my mind, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my medications, and a can of beer. Without hesitation, I downed the pills, and drank the entire can within a minute. My stomach didn’t agree with that, and I ended up vomiting out everything. Mama and Papa found me hunched over the toilet, hacking out my insides, as tears ran down my face. They took me to the hospital straight away. The quick timing saved my life, and I had to have my stomach pumped in case there was anything left inside. My parents yelled at me about my drinking problem when the doctors talked about how unhealthy I was becoming, how much I was destroying myself. With this, they registered me to a support group, for addictions and stuff like that. A 29 year old man being forced to go by his parents, great. However, when I got there I honestly did not expect to meet someone so great there. Kate Rosenburgh. Bad girl, junkie type. Oddly enough, we seemed to hit it off. While I felt bad for getting over Regina so soon, my mother said it was okay as long as I was getting better. Things got complicated though when I told her about my kids. Kate remarked how she wouldn’t change who she was because of that. I stated I didn’t mind, and I didn’t. At first… With much struggle, I was able to hide my illness from her. After a year and a half, 18 months exactly, our entire family went to Javier’s big game. No one knew what I had planned, until the kiss cam came up. The moment it did, I took Kate’s hand, and got on one knee. Right then and there, I asked the question. Kate still mentioned how she wouldn’t change, and wasn’t step-mother material, but I dind’ care. Or so I thought. In that week, two other strange things happened that week. Javier had been banned from the league for betting on his own game, dumbass. And papa, papa got really ill. Not long after me and Kate’s wedding, papa was diagnosed with lung cancer. Now 31, I was already losing my father. Seeing him get weaker every day, reminded me to much of Regina. My mind flashed to my comrades bleeding out, dying all around me. Before I could stop it, the beast came back. I lashed out at Kate, and we fought a lot. She kept talking about getting a damn dishwasher, I was already paying my father’s hospital bills! I DIDN’T NEED ANOTHER BILL! Then one day, my brother moves in. And puts his damn nose in our business!!! HAVING THE BALLS TO TELL ME MY WIFE WANTS TO LEAVE ME!!! My temper only grew worse, my self control shattering instantly. Javi had the nerve to tell me that Kate wanted to leave me. With the little control I had, I only kicked him out for my home. But I was scared of what I really wanted to do. What the beast inside wanted to do. Every time I stared getting better, something would happen. The demon from within would break through and hurt everyone. The day dad died…. my mind was nearly gone, all self control non-existent. I was like a puppet being controlled by all the demons inside. My nightmares would only become worse… I was staring at a version of my self, the beast. IT let out a twisted grin, raising it’s arm, and mine rose in comparison. My eyes widened in pure horror at what it did next. IT dug it’s nails into it’s own eyes, tearing the out. I collapsed on my knees, gasping in pain. SEE NO EVIL. My nails dug into my face, and into my arms and legs. I scratched at my wrist violently, until I got to the veins inside it. A loud scream tore through my mouth as a gun and knife landed before me. IT took them both, stabbing me in chest, and shooting me in the head. I woke up, unable to breathe as I was trapped, in a mixture of the real world, and the hell of my own. The door to my room was locked thank god, but I wasn’t safe. My lungs tightened, breathing nearly impossible. The knife sawing away my tongue. SPEAK NO EVIL. My ears run loudly, mixing with my gargled screams. HEAR NO EVIL. IT yanked out my teeth violently, as blood ran from my nose. WHY CAN’T I WAKE UP?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! “DAVID!” I shoot up from my seat, looking around quickly. As I looked, I saw Clint, Joan, and Paul standing before me, we were outisde. I was on the ground. “We thought we lost you there for a moment David. Would be upsetting if we lost ya before we even got this off the ground.” Paul remarked. I looked confused, and hissed in pain holding my neck. As I felt it, I painfully felt a burn. Joan passed me a broken mirror, and I took it. My eyes looked forward, seeing the New Frontier symbol, our symbol burned into my neck. But as I stared at the reflection more, I inhaled. MY SYMBOL. The beast smirked, and handed Joan the mirror back as it stood.