#im the front lines rogue. he gets to stay in the back and throw things and do ranged sneak attacks :)

[plushievash]

our hit points look like

so his can look like

[crqstalite]

after adamant.

ugly little fic that i wrote in the middle of the night a while ago and shared with a friend. post-adamant about my inquisitor trying to rationalize their losses at the fortress and in the fade. nothing’s capitalized, so if that annoys you, this isn’t the little fic for you.

chose not to use warnings? im not quite sure what to use here, so tread lightly.

dragon age inquisition. 

-

she stays strong, after adamant it’s all everyone needs. she sees to the few wardens that had been at the keep, had offered inquisition aid.  they thank her thousands of times over, as uneasy as they are.

their senior warden, alistair, won’t meet her eyes. deep brown orbs looking anywhere but at her, even with a smile on his face. he thanks her, quietly. bandages wrapped around his side, muttering that he’d need to get a letter out to the hero of ferelden — tabris.

she leaves him, offering to let leliana find her. to let leliana send the message and get it back to him as soon as possible. he agrees, numbly is when she swings a leg over the elk in the morning, sun peaking over the rise in the distance.

she knows that look that settles in his dark brown eyes, that look that cries it should’ve been me. but she’s sure he knows what he must do now, to lead the wardens properly against corypheus. she thanks him.

he doesn’t say it, but he does respond that hawke’s sacrifice would not be vain. that shatters a part of her, seals her lips all the way back to skyhold. thankfully, marzeyna is lucky enough no one else is in a talkative mood. but they will be, with questions, with reactions, maybe with thinly veiled anger.

she’s not sure if she’s lucky or simply being lied to when varric seems more despondent than furious with her. he simply responds there are letters to write, to bethany, to other friends she’d made in kirkwall. they’d been close. she bites her lip hard enough to draw iron laced blood to keep from crying.

he hugs her.

though he’s not mentioned, marzeyna doesn’t make the request to send a letter to the mage anders. though he will be left in the dark, surely varric would know how close they’d been. the way hawke spoke of him, with a wistful tone laced with uneasiness, she doesn’t want to look into his eyes and tell him she was the reason reyna hawke would not be coming home.

she makes her rounds. to cassandra, to blackwall, to dorian. then to the others who learning of it secondhand, to leliana, who’d been hurt over justinia. to sera, to bull, to vivienne, to solas, who was fascinated about her journey into the fade.

she doesn’t indulge him. any other day, she might’ve, but not today.

marzeyna has to put on a brave face when she’s nearly hit with what she assumes to be a lyrium kit when she visits cullen. to think she’d thought she’d get any miniscule amount of comfort from anyone after her return, she would’ve thought, just maybe, that it would be him. but no, her nerves are shot and she’s terrified and can’t think straight. she hasn’t slept since before adamant, doesn’t even want to think about dreaming in the fade. and yet, she’s able to give cullen the strength he needs to go on. 

she wavers. her tiny form struggles to make it back to the war room after the moon has long risen in the sky. working, bent over the war table. they’d head out for the exalted plains in the morning. switch out her ground forces, get to work.

get her mind off the blonde woman that haunted her thoughts these days. piercing storm cloud eyes with dexterity over daggers that she’d never seen before. a determination to save mages from the templars that burned white hot within her, flames licking everyone she met.

her voice never wavering when she’d accepted her fate. a strong nod when she drew her daggers for the last time.

she shoves the knife meant for josephine’s diplomatic mission into the table deeper than she’d intended, grinding it into the table with a groan. her fire red hair falls into her face, her once tight ponytail loosening into a lump of curls at the base of her neck.

magic crackles at her fingertips, papers flying off the desk and fluttering to the floor. lelianna’s secrets, cassandra and solas’ requests, josephine’s agreements, cullen’s reports.

yanking off her gloves in front of the fire in her quarters, she grits her teeth when she can’t yank a swollen finger out of it’s respective sleeve. eyebrows knitting together in frustration, fire climbing her thoughts.

why hadn’t she been quicker? why hadn’t she forced them ahead with magic? she could’ve done something, done anything different. could’ve fade stepped them past the bastard. but no, she hadn’t done any of those things. she’d knowingly sent hawke to her death, not fought alongside her and alistair, but sent her away so she and alistair could get away.

the glove comes off, pain reverberating through her hand in waves. she kicks off her boots, the pair thumping away somewhere in the darkness.

she should be the one in the fade. running for her life, terrified in the darkness of the spiders she saw racing towards her. reliving nightmare after nightmare.

marzeyna was a mage. she could’ve handled it longer before she went mad. reyna was not, she was a young woman from kirkwall. a rogue no less. so stupid, marzeyna should’ve been the one to stay behind. from what little she understood of the tensions between varric and cassandra, hawke could’ve been the inquisitor. hell she probably was supposed to be. or alistair’s love, tabris.

both were older, wiser than she was. with only twenty five years on her, she wonders if some God with a sick sense of humor had decided it should be her. things had only gone wrong when she appeared in haven, half alive and delirious. justinia had died, the mage/templar conflict in the hinterlands that she couldn’t solve, alexius.

then they lost haven. and so many people. the smell of wood burning around her and screams of people being cut down by red templars. her advisors asking for orders, her mind spiraling in a thousand different directions.

she wonders if cullen saw the terrified look in her eyes when he’d spoken to her. saw her fumbling for answers, saw the little girl that had been given too much power, much too soon. had second thoughts about her being the so called herald of andraste. had wondered why he put his faith in her.

marzeyna lavellan. she was a mage. and a dalish elf. two of the most marginalized statuses you could have in thedas, and so many people still looked up to her. asked her what to do, trusted her not to lead them astray. 

hawke had trusted her. marzeyna had promised her she’d get her out alive, had promised she’d get her back to bethany. to anders. that they could do this.

she yanks a box, some sort of box, maybe empty off the desk and throws it, chucks it into the wall just off the windows. it crashes, shattering into splinters of oak. then something else holding an ink quill, lighter, easier to throw. that too shatters, ceramic maybe. it’s satisfying almost, anger and regret and everything in between flooding her emotions like a tidal wave. they drown her, choking her when she screams like a caged animal, chucking another small box into the wall. raw magic dances at her fingertips and lights her ablaze, body glowing a gentle white as hot tears slide down her face in rivers.

justinia. maybe. she’s needed her and there was nothing she could do. she failed her.

every single person in haven believed in her. they needed her when corphyeus arrived with his forces.

hawke had believed in her. smiled at her. told her jokes. at first skeptical, as any non andrastian would be. but quickly had become her friend. her first real one that wasn’t asking her what was next all the time. someone she could go to when her advisors were too much that day.

her hands clench into fists in her hair, sobs heavy and heaving as she slides to the floor in a heap against one of the walls. now hawke was gone, and it was all her fault. just like it’d been before. another person who’d gotten killed because of her.

she’d tried to justify her decision. the wardens would need someone to lead them through this possible blight. tabris would need him when she got back with her research into the fake calling. 

nothing answers when she thinks about hawke. she can’t justify her death. she was a good person, supported mages to a fault. didn’t seem the type to kick puppies. was friendly to everyone, had a sister, had a friend in varric.

then, why isn’t marzeyna dead?

she has nothing. clan lavellan maybe, but they’d surely replaced her by now, it wasn’t as if she was coming back now. it wasn’t like they were clambering to see her again. she’s a mage, she’s already being persecuted anyway. and it wasn’t as if what she’d started with cullen couldn’t be forgiven. it wasn’t anything serious, he could meet someone else.

sure, she was young. younger than most in the inquisition. but others still had most of their lives ahead of them. she had nothing. no future beyond what lie inside of skyhold.

hugging her knees, the pants legs begin to wet with the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. the anchor was the only thing that made her important, that kept people from actually wanting to get her killed. people put their lives on the line for her. and she couldn’t even return the favor.

her nails dig into her biceps, curling in on her herself as a draft whips into the room. a shiver after the fire chases it away. 

then why is she still here? she’s nothing, no one. 

and right now, she doesn’t want to be anyone. she doesn’t go to bed that night, reading reports until she can’t. staving off sleep to keep from drifting into the fade against her will. eyes blurring and burning when she dresses herself in the morning, she avoids varric’s gaze following her down the corridor to the war room. josephine follows, rattling off things she doesn’t understand. nobles. treaties. alliances.

lelianna and cullen join them a few minutes later. if they notice her hands shaking, they don’t say anything. a glimmer of concern in cullen’s eyes, josephine outright with the words on her lips, gently biting them back.

she should be dead, she chants when they arrive in the plains, i don’t even have a right to be alive. she should be here, and yet i handed the situation to her like the scared child i am.

it’s the beginning of many restless nights.

[rogue-barnes-16]

THAT PUNK (part IV/?)

Summary: Some people don’t distinguish between hate and love. Some people do, but fail to express it.

Pairing: 40's!Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags: @jcalpha1 @lilypalmer1987 @sadanddeadsoul @im-so-fxcking-ace @m-a-t-91 @helddowninthisstarlesscity @littleravenwrites @swtmckngbrd @gwennyy @swissairforce-member @stealingheartsswift13 @slender--spirit @thisismyfriend-tree @lolabean1998 @crazybutconfidentaf

Warnings: drinking

A/N: the tags in bold didn't work, sorry. Also, I think I'll write just a couple of chapters after this one before finishing the miniseries, so get ready for the end. Feedback is always appreciated <3.

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

Requests are open so feel free to send me an ask <3.

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

"James, darlin', Where're ya goin'?" I barely heard my mother while I was picking up my jacket. I hadn't been able to focus on anything since Y/n closed the door. I glanced at it, from time to time. I guess I was waiting for her to come back. "James?"

I blinked and I saw my mother had moved from the living room to be in front of me. I had to seem really off for her to have that worried look while she scanned me with her eyes. "I'm gonna go dancing with Steve and a couple of gals, Ma."

She pursed her lips hesitant before coming back to the living room, taking the now empty dishes to the kitchen. "don't come back too late, darlin', and be careful."

I gave her a the best smile I could form before putting on my jacket and grabbing some money. "don't worry, Ma. But I might stay at Steve's, 'm not sure."

My mother sighed, but allowed me to do as I wanted. I kissed Rebecca's forehead and my mother's cheek before going out.

I got out of the building and I saw Steve waiting there, sitting on the stairs. "hey, pal" I greeted him while I helped him to get up.

"Hey, Buck" he greeted back. We started to walk to the nearest bar "how did it go the talk with your sister's bestfriend?" and there it was again. Y/n. Steve had seen her a few times while he was in my house and Y/n came to pick up Becca.

I gulped. Suddenly, my feet were the only thing I wanted to look at. "It didn't go well, I made her cry. I ruined everything again because of that damn kiss, and I think this time I lost her for good." I wasn't ready to say it out loud, I guess, because my voice cracked in the end. I cleared my throat trying to hide it, but Steve always saw throw me.

"Oh, so Y/n was that girl?" I nodded. Steve knew about what happened with Y/n, but I never said her name. "Oh." he repeated, looking down, with his hands inside his pockets. "y'know, we don't have to go anywhere, we can just go for a walk and then go home."

I nodded. I really wasn't in the mood for a dance. So we did as Steve said. We walked for half an hour approximately while I told him everything about what had happened with me and Y/n a couple of hours ago. And then, I walked Steve home. "sleep well, punk" I said.

"jerk" he answered, opening the door. Before getting in, he turned around to face me "y'know Buck? You won't ever know if you've lost Y/n, unless you ask her."

"she won't talk to me again, Stevie." I shrugged, my hands in my pockets "she hates me, and honestly, I don't blame her. I've been a jerk"

He huffed before replying. "You know that's not true. I mean, you've been a jerk" he took two steps upstairs, and spoke again. "but Y/n doesn't hate you. She wouldn't have saved your ass from your Ma and Becca otherwise."

And without giving me a chance to argue what he had just said, he got inside, closing the door behind him.

That punk knew nothing, Y/n hated me. She hated me, right? What if she didn't? What if Steve was right?

I wandered around her neighborhood for almost fifteen minutes, trying to be brave enough to knock her door. The 'what if's were killing me, but I couldn't find it in me to go to her house.

It was too late anyways, and I was sure as hell the last thing she wanted was to open her door and see me, standing there in the middle of the night... Right?

I tried walking back home, but before I realized it, I was spending all the money I had with me in alcohol, sitting on a stool in a bar near Y/n's building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

I took a deep breath to calm myself when I entered in my apartment. I put a smile on my face and I took off the pins holding my hair. "Mom, I'm home!" I announced.

When nothing came in reply to my statement, I walked to the kitchen counter, where my mother left a note whenever she left.

And there it was. I hopped onto the counter and I read the couple of lines written down on the piece of paper in my hands. Apparently, my aunt was sick, so my mother would take care of her and come back the following day around noon. I sighed, swinging my feet. The day was getting better and better.

First Rebecca had lied to me - it was quite obvious his brother told her to do that -, then, I made the mistake of having hopes about fixing things with Bucky, and then, I cried in front of him for some stupid reason, making the both of us uncomfortable.

In addition to all of this, my mother wouldn't be at home until morning, so I didn't have anyone to talk about this with.

I decided the best I could do was having a quick dinner go to sleep. Yeah, sleeping would help me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luck definitely wasn't on my side, because I couldn't fall asleep. I tried to, but I ended up tossing the sheets off my body and getting up.

I since I was alone, I didn't even bother on putting on my housecoat over my nightgown before walking to the kitchen. After drinking some water, I decided maybe some cold air will help me, so I opened the kitchen window and I hopped onto the counter to feel the cool air directly.

I heard knock on my door and I jumped off the counter, thinking the worst. The knocks were fast, almost hysterical. What if something had happened to my aunt?

I jogged towards the door and, when I opened it, I almost fell to the floor. Standing in front of me was Bucky, crying nonstop.

I had no time to ask what was he doing there, because he took a step forward, crashing against me in a tight hug with enough strength to make me step backwards, almost tripping on my way. I could smell the alcohol before he said a word.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm s-so sorry for everything, please don't walk away from me again, p-please I-I'm sorry Y/n" he kept rumbling against my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my neck, and I couldn't tell if he was tightening the grip because he didn't want to let me push him away or because he couldn't stand upright.

"You're drunk" it's all I managed to say, still stiff. He started to cry harder, burying his face on the crook of my neck.

"I-I didn't h-have the guts to c-come here sober" he muttered shaking. "I-I swear I tried, I-I tried coming here sober, b-but I hurt you s-so many times t-that I couldn't"

I closed my eyes, and before I could stop myself, my hands where caressing his back reassuringly. "Does your Ma know where are you?" I asked resigned.

"N-no" he answered quietly and more relaxed. However, he quickly went stiff again. "D-Don't tell her I'm drunk please. I'll leave, just don't tell her"

I sighed, pulling him away slowly, in an attempt to help him regain his balance. However, the moment, I let go of him for him to walk, he tripped, almost falling. "I'm not telling her, but you can't leave in this state." I stated, holding him upright by his forearms.

He stared at me with glossy eyes, a spark of hope shining in them when he realized I was letting him stay. I looked down, blushing when he didn't look away. He let his forehead rest against my shoulder again, this time a bit calmer. Despite this, his voice cracked when he spoke, and I felt tears wetting my nightgown. "You're an angel Y/n. I-I don't deserve you."

[smuttybronde]

New Name, New fate

Genre- Smut, angst

Group- K.A.R.D

Member- J. Seph/ Kim Taehyung

Admin- Aussi

I blinked blankly at the file in front of me, it was the usual, a rich person wanting to kill someone for some stupid reason. I lost the disgust at their actions after so many requests. It was normal and it was a part of life, who was I to judge the process of fate? There are those with the powers to save others and there are those who can only hurt. And let me tell you, I'm very proficient at hurting. I always was. Even before I was an assassin it was a daily event. A shiver ran up my spine at the thoughts of my past. Life before my job was what led me to this. To helping others escape their problems like I wish others would have helped me, but to a larger extent. 

 My next target is a male and goes by the name J. Seph. He frequents a club called Rogue which is where I will most likely find him. I don’t bother asking the reason why they want this, they always feel the need to tell me anyways as if it will justify their actions. Oddly they didn't list a reason. Not that I cared, though. I’m informed that he always sits at the end of the bar on the right side with a white jacket. Never a different jacket, seat, or side of the bar. He has a horrible smoking habit and drinks liquor like water. Just another coward trying to kill himself without getting the title of ‘suicide’. A breathing corpse who prefers to waste away drunk rather than remember what it was like to live. 

 The club is like every other I've visited; intoxicated idiots, along with a few underage teens. Most people on the dance floor are practically having sex. I get hit with the heavy scent of sweat, booze, and vomit. I’m not phased though- these visuals and smells don't even compare to a dead body. This practically smells like a spring meadow. 

 I strut in the direction of the right side of the bar, spotting the white jacket almost immediately. A sudden wave of Deja vu rushes through me but I block it out like I do with all past memories. Rows of empty glasses crowd around him and I see smoke from his cigarette. A lovely combination. I walk over and sit on the seat next to him, ordering a vodka soda from the bartender. I adjusted my dress slightly to show off my assets, more than enough to lure my target to my apartment for a quick easy job. 

 Then I observed the man. Within a few seconds of looking at him his head turned, feeling my gaze. I felt like I was punched, my hands clenched into fists, and my breathing halted.The stool I sat on squealed as it was roughly pushed back and I jumped off it. My heels were loud as I ran but not loud enough to overpower the sounds of my heart beating wildly. A vague whisper of my name trailed after me as I left like the white rabbit. I could only hope Alice didn't chase after me. 

 After taking a few days to calm my nerves I revisited the club. Sure enough he was in the same place wearing the same thing. Only this time there were more bottles. A sexy brunette walks to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she talks to him with confidence. My brows furrow slightly, lips pressing together in a thin line. He doesn't even have look up at her for her face to turn into an angry scowl. She seems to say something bitterly before stomping off. 

My teeth clench together as I walk over. “You seem lonely. Do you want to dance?” I ask, plopping down on the same bar stool I did last time.

“Can no one fucking see I enjoy being alone? I'm here for a reason.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I don't like people.” J. Seph said, glancing up, eyes glaring darkly at me. I simply locked my hands together, resting my head on them. I smiled at him as the memories played through my head. This was always his weakness.

“Please? One dance?” I begged, pouting. 

“Kim Taehyung right? Wanna dance?” I asked, looking at the dark haired boy beside me. He had a few classes with me in my college but we never really talked. The fact like I had a crush on him didn't help either. Now was a good enough time to start talking to him, he would be more relaxed right? 

“Im sitting here for a reason, I don't want to be bothered.” He sighed, tugging at his shirt a bit as a nervous habit.

“And why is that?” I asked, tilting my head curiously. “Pleease. One dance!” I said cutely. Seeing that he still looked unsure I pulled out my signature move. I rested my chin in the palms of my hands and smiled wide, eyes forming crescents. 

He let out a loud sigh before standing up. I could see him trying to hold back a smile and laughed. “You can smile, I don't bite.”

 His eyebrows furrowed slightly, it made him look sad and un-trusting. I gulped before speaking softly, “I don't bite”. His lips parted pathetically before he stood up and began walking off. I mentally kicked myself, like past memories would make him more trusting. I was an idiot for trying.

 “Hurry up.” A voice growled and upon looking up I came to the realization it was Taehy- J. Seph. This wasn't the Taehyung I knew, this was someone new I reminded myself. This was J. Seph. I stood before approaching him as he worked his way into the mass of dancing bodies.

 When we started dancing it was separate. We were both too embarrassed to dance together so we danced separately before relaxing. My lips never stopped smiling as did his. When we started dancing together it was sweet, my head on his shoulder as we swayed back and forth. The song changed into a more fast paced one and I took a deep breath. I took his hands in mine and turned around so his chest was to my back. I set his hands on my waist and started to sway my hips, pushing them slightly back on his. After a while his hands actually gripped my waist and in a quick movement I was pressed harder against him. 

 Calloused hands roughly held my hips as he roughly ground himself on me. There was no kindness in the movements and no meaning. This was a one time thing and it meant absolutely nothing to him. I ignored the pang of hurt that ripped through me, pushing against him just as roughly. Arousal defied my reasoning that this was just a job, because job or not this was my Taehyung. This new person was someone I created - or rather gutted - until he was a shell. But he was still mine. 

 My head was pulled to the side as he bit and sucked at my neck. Flurries of pleasure and familiarity dropped on my skin like snowflakes. My body was ecstatic that his touch was back. His tongue soothed over the bites he made. I turned my body so we were chest to chest, continuing to grind on him but looking into his eyes now. I pushed a strand of hair behind his ears “Let's go to my place.” 

 Our lips pulled apart, my heart racing from my first kiss...and second and third. One hand was resting on his face and the other was tangled in his hair as I looked him in the eye shyly “Do you want to come to my place?” 

 He grunted in approval, tugging me to his car. I gave him directions to the apartment I normal took people to when I killed them. The car ride was tense for both of us, sexual tension coursing through the air.

 By the time we get to the apartment I'm shaking, with both excitement and nerves. It took a few tries to get the key in the lock but J. Seph didn't seem to notice. He only cared when the door was open, pushing me in the house. 

 I was slammed against a wall immediately, lips being ravished. His hands were on my ass, pulling me closer to him and outright grinding on me. His lips tasted like whiskey and I ironically felt drunk off it, forgetting why I was here. My job didn't matter to me when he was here with me. We were together and even if he didn't know it consciously, his body was aware. 

 His hands moved to my thighs as he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his torso. His hips rolled against me expertly. “Where is your room?” He breathed, connecting his lips to suck on my neck milliseconds later.

 “Down th- ah! The h-hall to t-the le- ah left!” I moaned, head back. He stumbled to the room and then set me down on it gently. My eyes stared at his body as he tugged off his jacket, shirt following it soon after. His body was still perfectly beautiful, making me dazed. He gave me a look when he noticed I had yet to strip. I simply turned my back to him and pushed all my hair to one shoulder, exposing the zipper to my dress. “Help?” I asked.

 In reply he slowly unzipped it to where the zipper ended, just above my ass. His hand rested there for a moment, moving to unbutton his pants afterwards. I wiggled off the dress, throwing it across the room. Next I took off my heels, and finally pulling off my underwear and bra. Looking up I saw that J. Seph was naked too. 

 I leaned back onto the bed so that I was laying down. He kneeled between my legs, wrapping them around his waist and scooting us up so that we weren't on the edge. He adjusted himself so that he could press against me before resting his arms on either side of my head to support his weight. 

 His head bent down, allowing him to rest his forehead on mine, the action making me blush. This was the first affectionate thing he had done to me in years but despite that it still managed to fluster me. We stayed there until the pain ebbed away. I gave a slight nod once I was ready.

 He slowly pulled himself out and pushed back in, his muscles flexing. I groaned at the stretch, hands holding his forearms tightly. His face looked almost pained by how tight I was, “I haven't had sex for years.” He gasped out, hips jerking slightly even though he was restraining himself. “You feel so damn good!” J. Seph praised and I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull out waists closer together. His arms trapped me in a way that made me feel like he was in control, turning me on further. Frustrated at the fact he wasn't deep enough, I rolled my hips to push him in further. 

 He began to move instantaneously, hips jerking in a fast, unforgiving pace that left me breathless, I was so hot and it seemed he was too. His forehead was dotted with sweat and brows furrowed in concentration. Perspiration lightly gathered on his chest. He looked as sexy as ever and it was only for me to see. 

 His length was brushing against places no one but him had felt, making me feel sensations nothing else could do. He his hips moved at a jackhammer pace, placing wonderful pressure on my G-spot as his head dug deliciously into the sweet spot. The passion was eating me alive from the inside and I was sure I would have bruises on my hip bones from colliding harshly with his, not that either of us noticed. All we knew were the wonderful sensations we felt and the blocked out any other emotions. There was simply no room for pain when other feelings took over so much of my brain and heart.

 It was a while before either of us was willing to end it and cum. But when we were forced to let go it was wonderful. My legs fell from his waist but his hips refused to leave mine, pressed against me so that his body was at an angle. All it took was one more sharp thrust for him to pull out and cum in streams on my stomach. When he did I heard the faint whisper of my name on his lips despite him thinking that I wasn't myself. 

 For a split second my mind wondered if his cum or blood would feel hotter against my skin. I looked up at his face. He was still looking at me dazed, like he didn't really see me. Even after all of this- all of the clues he had no idea who I was or why he reacted this way to a stranger. Tears welled rapidly in my eyes as I looked at him but he never lost the hazy and unfamiliar look. I reacted out of instinct.

 My hand connected to his cheek, the force even hurting my hand. His eyes lost the hazy look in them and widened dramatically as he looked at me. He whispered my name and a raw sob came from my mouth. My hand reached under my pillow. I nodded at him “It's me, Taehyung.” A wide smile made it's way across his face instantly. He said my name again, a smile blossoming on his face. 

 “If this is a dream and I have to wake up give me one more day.” J. Seph begged, looking down at me with what only be described as pure admiration. 

“Please just let us have one more day! I-i’ll find a way to pay you I swear! Stop fucking hitting him!” I shrieked as they beat my dad. I fought against the guys holding me back, managing to elbow them a few times. On an especially good hit I managed to free a hand to punch the other guy. I lunged at the boss but was once again held back. “I said let stop hitting him dammit!” I roared. The head loan shark snapped his fingers, making the minions beating my father stop instantaneously. 

 “How many extra days have I given you? Instead of your dad how about I hit you once for every extra day, deal Sweetheart?” He said, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

 “Deal.” I agreed. He looked taken aback for a moment before he came up to me, giving me a hard punch to my jaw. Pain blossomed against that whole side of my face, an intense ache setting in. I waited for more but it never happened. I gave him a distrusting look and he laughed. It wasn't an evil laugh but of pure amusement, it was warm like a grandfather's may be.

 “I’m not going to hit you again. That was all.” I was confused, my own father had hit me more and harder than this man, a supposedly cruel loan shark. “I’ll make you a deal. I will forget all of your father's debts and treat him for the injuries we have caused if you work in a branch of my work.”

 “And If I don't?” 

 “I will kill your father and make you repay me.” 

 “What line of work?” I asked, and he smiled slightly 

 “I want you to be an assassin for some of my clientele.” 

 “I’m not going to let you go.” J. Seph said softly, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m not going to let fate take you away from me again. Just for a little bit.” He murmured. I held the gun tightly in my hand, it was already cocked and loaded.

 “I’m not going to let you go.” Taehyung said stubbornly and I let out an annoyed huff. I hated lying to him but I had to.

 “It’s just a different college, I can't stay confined to this one city Tae!”

 “Can you at least stay in this country!” He yelled 

 “You can't ask me to abandon my dreams for you!” I cried, thinking to myself how much I loved him. How they would kill him if they ever saw me with him. 

“You can complete your dreams here! And if you can't we can move to another city!” 

 “I'm going to that college Taehyung!” I'm so sorry, I love you. 

 “Then i’m going with you!” At this I ran out of the cafe and into the streets. I love you.

 That was the last time I saw him. I faked my death. It was the only way he would leave me. He thought I was hit by a car on my way home from the cafe. He thought it was his fault I died and resorted to what I saw at the bar. Even now if they knew I had contact with him they would kill him, client or not. They weren't as bad of people as I originally thought but contact with people from before was a strict no. I saw what he was before this and don't want him to revert to that, nor do I want him to look for me.

 I pulled it from behind the pillow and pulled the trigger.

 It was silent.

 Blood began to seep from the obvious hole in his chest, and his arms gave out, his body falling on me. He continued to say my name happily as if it hadn't affected him at all. My chest heaved with his weight and my bawling caused me to not take in enough air. Hot blood drenched my skin until it was impossible to differentiate who was shot. Guilt ran through me despite this being the best option. This way instead of living being sad he would die happy. I would rather he die happy then live life of trying to kill himself slowly. This way he wouldn't be forced to live a life he didn't want to live, which is what he did up to this point. 

 But what if we ran away? We could live on a shipwrecked island so none of my bosses men could hurt him. What if I killed the boss? If I faked my death and ran away? None of them would have worked but it didn't stop the searing pain that I was experiencing.

 My hands rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you.” I whimpered “I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you.” He just chuckled although it came out more as a wheeze. I must have punctured a lung.

 “It's okay, Baby. It's okay.” He croaked, still smiling. He kept repeating my name, repeating how beautiful I was, how much he loved me, how happy he was. He said them over and over even though he could barely breathe. He coughed and I felt the blood splatter on my shoulder. He didn't even get halfway through my name again before he stopped breathing. I shook his body violently. My mouth let out a stifled scream. I held on to him like a life source, which is what he was to me. He was my life and he was gone.

 My hands ran through his hair “I’m so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry. I love you. I love you i’m so sorry.” I gasped. I picked up his phone, unlocking it with the password from years ago, taking a photo of J. Seph and sending it to my client, ‘Target killed.’. I threw my phone at the wall, watching the screen crack and pieces move to different area’s of the room. I took a hold of my on phone, sending a message to the head boss. ‘It's time.’ I sent before cocking the gun and pressing it to my own head. I would rather die and be happy then live without the hope that he is living happily.

 I pulled the trigger.

Optional ending 2- Revenge

Optional ending 3- Perfect