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sacrificialblood · 2 years

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drown your misery - pt. 3

ha! i finally finished it! took me like forever but it’s done. there might be an epilogue but thats up in the air so until like further notice this little series is done!! thank you for reading!! also any dialogue said by vincent is signed unless otherwise stated!

word count 4.5K | vincent sinclair x gn!reader

warnings: violence, LOTS of violence directed at reader, vincent is violent and needy and moody and whatnot

part one | part two

“Ya done hoggin’ Vincent’s time?”

You look up from the steps to see Bo lounging around in an old recliner chair and an old paperback in his hand.

It’s easy to pick up on who is walking in the house, especially knowing everyone’s routines. You know how easy it is for him to hear you coming down the stairs and hate it. Just once you’d like to catch the man off guard.

“I am not hogging his time.”

Bo glances up at you from his book, and you know he’s just trying to be mean, embarrass you—a new favorite pastime of his—but he just sounds downright petulant and jealous. You understand their relationship is complicated, just like yours and your sister’s, but perhaps it’s something different with them. Twins forced to compete in a dysfunctional, abusive home.

“Sure looks like it to me.”

“Okay, first off, he was helping me grab the traps, he chose to be around me. Second, I can’t help it if he happens to enjoy my company,” you roll your eyes, “And that I enjoy his. Maybe if you weren’t such an ass all the time he would hang around you more often.”

You take the last few steps, Vincent trailing a good distance behind you. He waits until you’re off the stairs to even begin moving down. Bo looks at him sharply then to you.

“You gonna let ‘em talk to me that way?”

He shrugs.

“Vincent, hurry on down so we can throw all these traps out.”

He doesn’t rush to make his way down but it’s a noticeable new pace he sets, and then he’s nipping at your heels, following you out to the metal garbage can outside. So eager to please. But he doesn’t stay around long after that— too put off by Bos comments or struck with inspiration maybe, but he skulks back to his workshop when you go back inside.

You fling yourself onto the couch and sigh. It’s hard getting yourself to do what needs to be done. Every chore seems a daunting and impossible task. You’re just tired, the kind that seeps into your bones and doesn't want to come out no matter how hard you force it to, settling and making a home in your forever. These months have been long and it’s finally catching up to you. You don’t pay Bo much mind, shutting your eyes and laying your head back for just a moment.

He’s noticed your sudden lack of enthusiasm to work, to pull your weight around the house, and he’s chewed you out more times than you can count. He’s been surprisingly patient with you, all things considered.

He works his jaw, “Don’t you got laundry to do?”

“You gonna fix the damn washing machine?” You hold his gaze for a few seconds before he dog ears the page he left off on and heads to the front door, shoving his hat on with a huff.

“Are you gonna fix it or what?” you yell out to him. All he does is wave you off and jogs down the front steps. Bo leaves the door wide open. Jackass.

***

It takes you two hours to actually start on the laundry Bo had been bitching about. Vincent’s been glued to your side this week, something that’s taken getting used to, but his presence is a welcome one. It gets lonely in the house. Even the dog doesn’t make good company. It will end soon though, he’ll take on a new project or simply lose interest in you after a while. But for now, he clings in a way that toes the line between suffocating and endearing.

Vincent follows you through the house, holding a plastic basket against his waist. He’s helping you collect laundry today. You’ve picked through his room and Bo’s. It’s easy enough to handle him like this; he’s like a lost puppy, he only wants to be around what’s familiar.

You have a lot to get done today. The linens need to be done, clothing and towels too. You stripped every bed in the house bare and hunted down every last sock strewn about the rooms. This is the one chore you enjoy. There’s nothing quite like crawling into a bed with fresh sheets and clean pajamas at the end of the day. It’s one of the little pleasures you have now.

He loses interest when you make your way back to the living room to sort light and dark clothing. He dumps the clothing on the floor next to you, drops the basket and turns around. It’s just one thing you can’t stand— his willingness to help is flighty, only going so fast before he finally wanders off to do his own thing. Inconvenient, really.

“Where are you going?”

He shrugs and points vaguely over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Thought of an idea for a sculpture. I don’t want to forget it.”

You frown. The laundry looks overwhelming now that it’s all piled up in front of you and you’ve lost your partner. Why can’t he stay? You don’t dare ask, he’s temperamental at best and downright cruel at his worst. It would be better for everyone to keep your head in the sand— you know where you stand on the totem pole.

“Thanks for the help.”

***

All things mechanical are lost on you. If you had any sort of knowledge about washing machines, you would fix it yourself but here you are, scooping buckets worth of water out of the drum and dumping the soapy mess down the utility sink. You still have to wring as much water out of the clothes before you can even think of putting it in the dryer. You thought things like these were built to last– the older models that are that horrible beige color– the set has probably been around since the brothers were kids, so why does it have to act up now?

You’ll just have to catch Bo in a good mood, maybe kiss his ass a little, and he’ll fix it up for you.

The front door opens and closes. Whoever shut it closed it much softer than anyone else in this house would, like they didn’t want to alert anyone that they’re in the house. You clutch the bucket of water tighter. You wait desperately for anything, for Bo’s voice, Lester’s whistling, the three knocks Vincent places on the door frame to let you know he’s back. It’s not Vincent– he hasn’t left his workshop and it couldn’t be Lester since he’s working today.

Bo’s the only option, but whoever is out there is too quiet, too subdued to be Bo.

Your breath catches in your throat, tongue tying up over the prospect of calling out. It’ll be okay, there’s no one else in this town. You’re just tired and being tired makes you paranoid. There’s a perfectly sound reason for the noises. You count forward to five and back. Your heart calms from its thumping pace.

You’re worried over nothing.

The utility sink still glistens from the last bucket of water you dumped in it, you can only hope you’ll have one more before you can start the next load. You heft the bucket onto the rim of the sink and pause. A trail of goosebumps crawl up your spine and a sharp feeling in the back of your head alerts you to something. You’ve only felt like this once before.

Blood and silver blades and an unknowable face.

The floor shifts and squeaks behind you. Something’s not right.

The person behind you is breathing heavily through their mouth. Please, go away, you think as your shaky grip on the bucket finally causes it to tumble over the side and spill out over the floor. The man behind you reeks of blood and sweat and the humidity of Louisiana. He kicks up some water that lands on the back of your ankles, daring you to turn around and look at him. You don’t think you can.

“Turn around.”

This man is haggered, completely run through the mill. His skin is caked in blood—from what you can tell, it’s mostly his—and mud. Nobody warned you. He heaves out a long, heavy breath and watches you with wild eyes, fingers curling and tightening around the handle of the kitchen knife. The stranger is working something out and whatever it is you’re sure it won’t be in your favor. It’s the longest moment of your life, staring each other down, waiting to see who will make the first move.

This could be it, your only chance to escape. The man looks strong enough to get out of here. Hell, from the looks of it, he survived whatever Bo put him through. He could get you out of here but there’s nothing about him that says he’s here to save you, not with the hunting knife he’s pointing toward you, gripped tightly and held close to his hip— a warning to keep you in place.

Somewhere in the house you hear a groan.

Vincent, please—

“What are you doing in my house?” you try to sound unafraid but it’s a vain effort. He knows.

“You’re with them,” he raises the knife to you, knuckles gone white, tendons and veins pushing up against the taut pull of his skin.

“Wait,” you hold your hands up and take a small step back but there’s nowhere to go, “Wait, please, I’m not—”

At first you don’t feel it, too shocked at what’s happening, but as he digs the knife around—and you swear he catches bone—you scream. It's pitiful and agonizing, but you scream and cry because that's all you can do. He tears the knife out from you, the serrated edge pulls up skin and tissue, and you turn your head to the side and vomit from the pain all over the floor.

You grab onto the edge of the sink for support but he’s too strong and too fast, violently whips you over to the washing machine with a single hand on your injured shoulder. You wail, the pain is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, burning hot and red.

“You’re one of them!”

The stranger thrashes your head, hitting it against the top of the washing machine. All you can feel is the ringing in your ears and the throbbing in your head. You can’t feel him shift against you, or the slight jostle of your head when he lifts the door of the washing machine. His hand moves from your throat to the back of your neck and he pushes. You’re helpless as the door slams against your head; one, two, three times and you’re only seeing stars and black spots. You lose count. He just keeps going.

You can’t tell if you’re still breathing.

“Vincent!” you can hardly recognize your own voice, his name is cracked and warbled, and oh, you heard something crack in your mouth.

His foot loses traction on the wet linoleum, and with his hand on your throat, he takes you down with him, he’s fortunate enough to land on his knees, straddling your thighs and wraps his other hand around your throat too. He’s got all the leverage again. He presses down hard, thumbs crossing over each other, and all you can do is wheeze and weakly bat your hands at him.

Where is he? What was the point in keeping you if he wouldn’t protect you? The man keeps bearing down on you, cutting off your air, and still your thoughts linger on Vincent. Sure, you’ve thought of your mother and your sister but if you think too hard about them you’ll cry messy tears and use up what’s left of your oxygen. The thought of your Vincent keeps you calm because he just has to come.

It’s too much, the pressure on your throat and lack of oxygen is making you panic, giving you that extra surge of adrenaline to try and fight him off. It’s all in vain. The most damage you can do is tug at his hair.

But there he is — he appears like an angel behind your attacker and you manage a smile. There’s no need to fight anymore, Vincent will do it for you.

The force that Vincent hits him with takes you down as well. Your head slams against the floor but you can finally breathe again. You sputter and cough against the air. That man just stares at you, expression dazed, trying to work out just what happened to him. Vincent didn’t knock him hard enough. As soon as he sees you breathing evenly again, he lunges at you — he doesn’t get very far.

Vincent grabs him by the ankle and drags him into the kitchen with ease. To an outsider he seems perfectly composed, emotions tightly under wrap, but you know him, can make out the heave of his chest and shake in his shoulders. Rage is brewing in him and he’s calculating how best to take it out on this next victim. If the pain in your shoulder and head weren’t so pressing, you could fully appreciate Vincent. The graceful move on his foot coming down on the victim's chest, holding the sniveling man still. He blubbers while Vincent pulls the twin knives out of his apron pocket.

You think of the first time you saw him, slinking around the wax museum, just a brief reflection of black hair that disappeared like magic when you turned around to find it. You don’t know much about that day but you’ve pieced it together. He’s been watching you all day, creeping around Ambrose to finally get you at your most vulnerable. You don’t know why you were spared the knife and wax that day and you’ll never find out by yourself — you refuse to ask him — Vincent’s inner workings will always be a mystery to you.

It's a dreadful thing to witness but you can't turn away from it.

He’s the ultimate predator: silent, swift and strong. As scared as you are of Bo, there’s something so much worse about Vincent. He plays a part, subdues himself enough around you and Bo, hides muscle beneath thick sweaters and makes himself look smaller, but he’s the one who comes back without more than a scrape or a bruise. He always has the upper hand, and it works. You almost forget it every time. Now, you won’t, you never will.

Vincent slices at the man’s prone body with efficient, precise cuts: after all, he knows the human body more intimately than anyone should. He knows just where to cut to demobilize him, and from the howls and wailing of pain the man lets out, Vincent has found his tendons and ligaments. You can't imagine the snap inside, the connective tissue would reel away and how helpless it would be, looking up at the man that had done it to you.

The man blubbers beneath him, something completely incoherent to you, but for all you know he could be speaking clear as day. You don’t care what he has to say, you want him gone. The thought might sicken you later but you don’t care, not with how much he hurt you, how much pain you suffered because of him.

You close your eyes and just listen to the carnage continue. Screaming and gargled breathing as Vincent's blades cut through flesh like butter — he always keeps his knives in perfect condition

You hear the impact, something heavy against bone and the crack that follows, again and again and again. You’re not sure anything could stop Vincent. The cracking keeps coming and at this rate, you’re sure that man isn’t alive.

The front door slams open, and there’s only one person it could possibly be if Vincent is still hitting the man. Bo curses when he gets closer. There’s silence for a moment, only interrupted by Vincent’s harsh breathing. Something clatters against the floor.

“Aw, hell, Vince. Look at the mess you made.”

***

The cast iron skillet Vincent used to beat the man sits, still bloody, on the counter. There hasn't been much of an effort to clean yet, you suppose their attention is too focused on fixing you up or maybe they’ve gotten used to you cleaning up their messes. The man is still there too, propped up now against the lower cabinets, watching you like it’s a punishment. For who, you don’t know.

You’re barely holding it together. Everything is flooding you. The pain you felt had succumbed to adrenaline and endorphins but now it’s come back with a vengeance. You’re sure you’re quite the sight, hair mussed and clothes soaked with blood and water, sniveling pathetically as Vincent inspects your injuries. You feel like a child again, wanting to call out to your mom so she can soothe the pain. She’s not who you get. Instead, it’s Bo holding your hand and gently wiping your tears away.

Never — not even in your wildest dreams — would you have thought he would be the one comforting you.

He pats the top of your hand as Vincent works. The movements are fast and effective, pulling at cutting at your clothes to examine every injury. His fingers probe at the stab wound, clinical and just the right amount of detachment. There’s no reveling in your pain or blood.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” The apology isn't real, you know there’s nothing for you to apologize for but it’s still so easy. And it’s better than the silence.

“None of that now. It ain’t your fault.”

You flinch when the needle pierces your skin and feel the thread run through it.

“Stop. Stop, Vincent, please, just put a bandage over it.”

“‘m sorry, sugar, but that cut ain’t gonna heal without closing it up.” Bo squeezes your hand gently. This man can be downright cruel and mean, but not to his family, not like he is with outsiders. this softness he’s showing you, this comfort he offers, maybe you’re no longer an outsider to him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Vincent! It hurts too much.”

“Darling, either you be good and let him work or I’m gonna let him sedate you and let him take you downstairs.”

The threat of sedation works you over, scares you right down to the bone. You don’t know what Vincent puts in his little sedative cocktail and you never want to find out. You don’t want to be a prisoner in your own body, unable to move, voice out your pain and discomfort while Vincent works on you. You sit up straight, fast enough to knock Vincent's hand out of the way with your shoulder and you cling to Bo’s arms. “No, no, no! I can be good. I’ll be good.”

“Alright, then,” he smiles and shoots a glance up at his twin, “You heard ‘em.”

***

You were right. As soon as the pain and adrenaline vanished, you were sick with yourself. You know well what you wished, what abhorrent thoughts you had, and it makes you sick. You almost want to die. This place has changed you, made you a predator in your own right. it isolates you. You stick to yourself, change your bandages without help from either of them, and scuttle around the house. Your chores have been reduced while you get better – it gives you too much time.

Vincent makes himself scarce around you and when he does spend any time around you, he treats you like glass on the verge of cracking. So, as much as you loathe to, you spend your days down in the garage with Bo. He doesn’t avoid you, doesn’t baby you – something you’re incredibly thankful for – and makes you work. He fills up your time with busy work because he doesn’t actually trust you around the cars he works on, not that you think he actually knows what he’s doing.

“Your brother’s acting weird.”

“Vincent’s a weird guy.”

You roll your eyes. So much for having a deep, productive conversation with him. It’s just like talking to a brick wall.

“Bo, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

He closes the hood of the car and looks at you through the windshield. Bo places his hands flat against the hood, head hung low and it worries you, this change in demeanor. He doesn’t present himself so open and vulnerable, it’s not his style, it’s nobody’s style in this town of three.

“Listen, Vincent just gets these moods. There’s not much you can do ‘bout it but wait it out.”

“Yeah, but he makes time with you.”

“‘M his brother. It’s different with a sibling. You know that just as well as I do.”

You nod. You do know. Nobody sees you like a sibling can, they see you at your best, your worst, go through your formative years knowing exactly what you’ve gone through. No one knows you like a sibling. You deflate. You remember what you're missing again. Your poor sister, you wonder what she thinks. It’s been so long, you must be presumed dead by now, would she have accepted that so easily?

“Give him time. He’s just worried. He doesn’t do well when people he loves are hurt. You gave him a right good scare, gave me one too. We thought you were dead.”

You look at him. The softness of his voice makes you, but it’s gone in a moment. He sniffs and pulls his hat back on and smacks the hood of the car once.

“Alright, give ‘er a start.”

***

“Vincent?” you call down the stairs. You wait a moment, hoping that he’ll peek his head around the corner. Nothing. You sigh. This is the last place you want to be, it’s far too warm and the wax has started to soften because of it. But you can’t just turn around now, whatever mood Vincent’s been in has been going on for too long. You’re not even sure if he’s come up to eat in the last three days. With your free hand you cling to the wall, in the other you hold the plate stacked high with red beans and rice and andouille sausage. Hopefully this will make him feel better.

You find him hunched over his desk, sketching on a pad of paper. He doesn’t look up from his work, doesn’t even seem to notice you, too focused on the opera music or in his work. Or he doesn’t want to acknowledge you.

You place the food in front of him and sit yourself on the edge of his desk.

“It’s a thank you.”

“Don’t. Don’t thank me.”

“Why not?”

You place your index and middle finger beneath his chin and gently push his head up to look at you. Even if his head follows, his eye stays downcast. You smile and move your head down to catch his eye. No matter how low you go, how far to the side, he avoids you. The smile falls away.

“Vincent, why not? What did you do?” You pull yourself off the desk to stand. He still doesn’t look at you. You take his shoulders and turn him on the stool and he still won’t look at you. “Answer me!”

You’re starting to panic. And now, now he decides to look at you. He watches you. He doesn’t attempt to sign or speak, just watches you with a careful eye. What is he waiting for? But you know. All the pieces are falling together. That noise, the other creak when that man had approached you — Vincent was there too. He was listening and waiting for your move. It was a test. There was no way he could have come up from his workshop so fast.

You freeze in place. How could he? Was it all just a game to him? Did he want to see you hurt, crying out for him and bleeding out on the damn floor so he could play hero? No. He doesn’t want to play the hero, he knows he isn’t. He tested you and you’d been hurt enough for him to think you had died.

You push and slap at him. Your nails drag through the wax of his mask.

“How dare you? After all this goddamn time? Why would you do that? I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve listened to your rules, done all the goddamn cleaning and cooking around here because apparently two grown ass men can’t fucking take care of themselves. I’ve taken care of you, I’ve been loyal to you to a fault! And this?” you point to the wound on your shoulder, “This is how you repay me?”

“I could have died.”

You claw at the mask again, taking bigger chunks of wax out. You want him to feel just as angry, just as hurt and betrayed as you do. There’s no better place to start than with his mask. It makes you sick to do it but it’s what he deserves. He grabs your wrists but it doesn’t stop you, you still reach for what you can, fight against the pressure of him trying to pry your arms down to the side. You just can’t let him win. You refuse to.

“I could have died!” you scream.

Your strength is no match against his in the end. You panic when he begins to force you back through the room, away from where he works to the twin mattress he’d chained you to. You’re flat on your back, arms held above your head, and he just stares at you with his one eye. The mask is ruined, you’ve made your mark on it. You thrash against his hold but he just presses harder against you, letting his full weight lay on you, and with ease he holds down your wrists with one hand while the other grasps at his mask.

You freeze when you realize what’s going to happen.

His fingers curl beneath the jaw of it and he rips it off and throws it to the side. You don’t get much time to look before he presses his lips against yours. It’s rough and hard, not close to the sweet kisses you imagined he would give. He pulls away from you, chest heaving, and watches you. You blink up at him, shocked by the sudden display of trust and hunger. You’re still so angry but coupled with the rough kiss, you feel that heat in your lower belly. He presses harder against you, brings himself closer, waiting for you, daring you to examine him.

You do and he’s the most beautiful, tragic thing you’ve ever seen. You know all the potential he had, had it not been for his juncture with Bo, he would have been so handsome, and he knows that. There’s a softness to him that Bo doesn’t have though. His skin is soft, pale, barely wrinkled from his lack of exposure to the sun. You manage to pull one of your hands from his grip and bring it to the back of his head.

“Again,” you demand. He looks at you, his eye wide and mouth agape, like he can’t believe it. You pull his hair and wrap your legs around his waist, “Kiss me again.”

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #my writing #🌙

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎-𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝐴 𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, promoting, nor romanticizing yandere or mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: This reaction contains scenes of violence, blood, death, and other material that might not be suitable for some people. Reader discretion advised.

❧𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

The fact Hongjoong seemed completely unfazed by you throwing the stack of papers on his desk was starting to frighten you.

"Aren't you going to look over them?" You asked him when he made no move nor any sound.

Hongjoong hummed softly before taking the packet and merely flipping the pages.

"I'm not going to ..... if you want me to sign over the papers, I'll gladly do it right now."

Now he was terrifying you. There was no way he was going to give in that easily.

You knew him too well.

Hongjoong smirked when he saw your suspicious look.

"Just get it over with so I can leave. It's almost time to pick up our son."

"Actually honey........ you won't find him there." He said as he picked up the ballpoint pen next to him.

Your head snapped up at him.

"What? What are you saying?! If you hurt my-"

"Our son, at least he still is at this moment, and you know I'd never let a single hair of his get harmed...."

Hongjoong hovered the pen above the dotted line at the bottom of the page.

"But I'm letting you know now Y/N, the second I sign these divorce papers, is the second you'll no longer be his mom or ever see him again."

There it was, just as you feared. He was blackmailing you into staying.

"Still want me to sign them?"

❧𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa sipped his tea calmly. Taking a quick glance at the clock, he let out a soft chuckle.

"She'll be here any minute."

Sure enough, just as the clock struck 10, the doors bursted open. He barely batted an eyelash at his wife who was now caged in between 2 very tall and muscular men who were carrying her in the room. Y/N swung her legs around, trying desperately to free herself but it was no use. They managed to sit her down at the opposite end of the table.

"Sit the fuck down."

Seonghwa's voice boomed throughout the dining room, and Y/N immediately abandoned her plan of running out the door once the security guards left. Seonghwa was even more menacing than them combined.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhaled and then released a heavy sigh.

"Seriously? You start acting up these last few days and I let it go because I'm trying to be patient...."

Reaching for something underneath his plate, he threw it across so it landed right in front of Y/N.

"But that is the last straw."

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa was right in front of her, harshly gripping her chin as he made her look into his cold and fiery eyes.

"Let me make this clear Y/N: you're my wife. I own you..... and I won't let you go around embarrassing me with some divorce shit."

Letting go of her, Seonghwa shoved her face away rather harshly.

"As if marrying you in the first place wasn't humiliating enough...."

❧𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

"Y/N....what are you-?"

When Yunho got the call from the lawyer telling him that you had filed for the divorce, he refused to believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He loved you, and you obviously loved him. It had to be a mistake.

But when he came home and found you packing the last of your things, reality hit him. You kept refusing to answer his questions, merely brushing past him as if he didn't exist. Getting frustrated, Yunho gripped your arms and held you in place.

"For God's sake Y/N! Why can't we just talk about this?! Talk to me! We have to work this out!" He didn't realize he began to shake her rather violently.

"There's nothing to work out here Yunho! I'm sick of all this! I'm sick of your possessiveness and I'm done!" You cried out.

"No baby please don't! I promise you I can change! Just please don't walk out on me!"

He embraced you tightly when you tried to push him off, his height and strength making your attempts at pulling away futile. His desperate sobs began to make you feel guilty, making you start to regret your decision......

But the still rational part of you refused to give in. You had to get out....

Even if you ended up destroying Yunho and yourself in the process.

❧𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang stared coldly at you. He had just finished reading the documents and he was definitely not amused. Without even blinking or moving his gaze from you, he ripped the papers in half, throwing them onto the floor.

"You've really gotten more brazen these past months." He noted.

"What can I say? I learned it from you." You spat back.

Yeosang lifted his hand but stopped himself midway. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath before snapping his fingers. One of his guards immediately came up to you and landed a harsh slap to your cheek. Although it stung like a bitch, you refused to let any tears spill out and opted for keeping a straight face, knowing it'll piss him off even more.

"You can't keep me locked here with you forever Yeosang." You told him.

Raising an eyebrow at your challenging words, Yeosang hissed out:

"Oh no? Watch me."

He walked out of your room, motioning for two of the guards to stay positioned at your door. He glared at you as he closed the doors, the sound of them being locked resonating throughout the room.

Now you definitely were trapped.

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

When they brought the documents to San and he took a look at them, he was furious. He actually got his gun out and shot the messenger dead with a bullet to the head.

"Where is she?!" He demanded.

"We don't know sir." One of his men replied.

"Well I'm giving you 1 hour to find her unless you want me to skin you all alive and feed you to the dogs. This is an order: find my wife and bring her back here. Do not harm her and most of all, do not allow her to try anything..."

San knew you were crazy enough to end your own life before allowing yourself to be taken back to him. You had already tried running away years before, which resulted in him caning your back so severely that it took you months to fully recover and to walk properly again. You remember when he warned you that if you tried anything like that again, he would not hesitate to torture you to death.

"I want her here! And I want her here alive! Do you understand me?!" He roared at his men.

"Sir yes sir!"

The men quickly sparsed themselves out, dedicated to finding you and bringing you back to your devil of a husband.

San looked out the window, his eyes squinting in rage and disgust as he looked at the city lights beneath him.

"I'll find you Y/N, you can't hide from me forever. Even if I have to set the entire city on fire and burn it to the ground, I will find you...

And I will kill you. "

❧𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi grunted, his fist once again colliding with the poor man's face which was already badly bruised and dripping insane amounts of blood. But it wasn't enough for Mingi. He was livid, he was like a beast, and most of all, he was going insane after being told that not only you had filed for divorce but that you had actually left the country to god knows where.

"Fucking christ! Where is she?! Why can't any of you give me any answers?!" He shouted at the terrified people behind him.

"S-sir, we're trying our b-best.." they tried to explain.

"Well obviously, it's not good enough!"

Reaching his limit, he violently bashed the man's head against the concrete wall, cracking his skull open as blood spurted all over Mingi's shirt, neck and jaw, effectively putting an end to the man's suffering.

"Sir? We got a confirmation."

Mingi's eyes lit up instantly when he heard that. His subordinate showed him the coordinates of where you were located and even got a hold of the hotel room you were staying in.

Not able to wait any longer, Mingi gave orders for his plane to be prepared. Getting out his phone, he immediately called your room, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would burst out his chest.

"Hello?"

He stopped breathing for a moment when he finally heard your voice.

"Baby? Please wait for me.....

I'm coming for you."

❧𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you.

"Do you want to die?" He questioned you.

"Why? Are you offering?" You counteracted him.

"Don't fucking test me cause I can easily arrange it."

Whether it was you feeling a little more brave or you simply had forgotten the kind of man Wooyoung really was, you had the audacity to scoff at him.

"But you won't Wooyoung. You're not going to kill me. Cause you're so puffed up with pride and power and with this obsessive need to control me, that if you kill me, you'd lose that power....."

You smirked at his shocked expression.

"And you can't have that now, can you?"

Wooyoung lifted his hand to slap you, but you quickly evaded it, landing a punch to his stomach that had him doubling over. You began running away, almost reaching the door when you cried out in pain as a loud bang sounded through the room. You clutched your leg as blood poured out from your shin, meanwhile Wooyoung strolled over to you, gun in his hand.

"You're right..... I won't kill you...

But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you.."

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho's eye and hand began to twitch as soon as he saw you walk in with Yunho, not liking your close proximity.

"Yunho....... distance." He reminded his friend.

Yunho looked over at you, who were now trembling slightly. Now Yunho understood why you begged him to accompany you for this. Sighing, Yunho merely walked up to Jongho and handed him the folder in his hands. Jongho furrowed his eyebrows as he peered through the contents. He immediately threw them on the floor in outrage.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" He demanded to know.

You winced at his tone of voice and immediately stood behind Yunho for protection, which only enraged Jongho more.

"I swear to God, if you're leaving me for him.."

Jongho walked up and tried to tear you away from Yunho, but luckily Yunho intervened and kept him from landing a finger on you.

"Let me go you fucking bastard! How dare you take my wife away from me!" Jongho accused him.

"First of all it's not like that and as long as I'm here, I won't let you hurt her! Jongho you've got to stop!"

But being stronger than the taller male, Jongho easily shoved him to the floor. He then proceeded to corner you in the wall, pining your arms as he slammed you against it. Yunho now panicked and accidentally blurted out:

"Jongho stop! You'll not only hurt her but the baby-"

Yunho immediately clasped a hand over his mouth as he realized he said what you wanted to keep secret. Jongho looked at Yunho then at you, who had fear written all over your face. Jongho softened up a little as his hands clasped around your stomach.

"And you still tried to leave me...?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez mafia au #mafia!ateez #mafia!au #yandere!au #yandere!ateez #ateez yandere au #ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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crystalrose555 · 3 years

Text

Slap me, I dare you! pt.6

Sorry for being gone for so long, guys! Let's just say it has been one hell of a summer, Soap Opera even O_o; I hope this makes up for it ^_^;, don't forget to reblog and comment, my asks are open

“Ok, no one panic-”

“How can we not panic! You idiots banished Marley to oblivion!” Asmo shrieked at the top of his lungs.

Levi fumbled his phone as his brother’s voice pierced his ears, leaving him stumbling with shaky hands. Belphie looked on and sighed heavily at his bickering older brothers.

“Asmo, calm down, it’s not like she’s dead.” Belphie claimed.

“But she could be! I can’t believe you both can be so irresponsible!”

“Hey, shut it! If you aren’t going to help then stand still and keep your eyes open!” Levi snapped back as he got back on his knees, searching with his phone flashlight.

Satan stroked his chin as he watched Beel cautiously placed the table on the ground before going to another chair and lifting it carefully. Mammon, on the other hand, started chuckling underneath his breath, drawing the attention of his concerned brothers.

“And why are you laughing, scumbag!?” Levi hissed.

“Because while I made a killin’ at the races, you bastards completely messed up and the best part is there is no way I’m gonna get blamed for it.”

Mammon continued to snicker shamelessly as his brothers gave him stares full of disdain. However, a cold chill filled the room as Mammon felt a firm grip upon his shoulder. His laughter shrunk to a slow nervous chuckle as Lucifer appeared behind him.

“Exactly how are you blameless, Mammon?” Lucifer smiled as his grip tightened.

Mammon swallowed hard as he looked for his younger brothers for help, his silent pleas going unanswered.

“Oi, I didn’t even do anythin’ this time!!!” He pleaded.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“As expected, four inches tall.” Simeon claimed as he gently moved the ruler away from the diminished woman.

Marley just snorted as she crossed her arms and avoided eye contact with the towering angel who handed the wooden ruler to his young ward. Solomon crossed his arms and tilted his head in thought, even though deep down he wanted to break out in laughter. Sensing the mischief in the air, Marley’s temper snapped like a twig at the quiet Solomon.

“Well, don’t just sit there, magic man! Hurry up and fix me!” She growled.

Solomon snorted as her tiny voice rang like a gentle bell in his ears. Simeon just shook his head in disapproval while Luke looked on in awe at the little woman on the table.

“I can’t fix this with a spell, Marley. This was done by consumption, not incantation. Seriously, what did you think would happen when you ate Mini Candy with Hydra Blood Fizz?”

“I thought it was like soda and Pop Rocks! Why is food so weird here!?” Marley screamed as she jumped up and down.

“You really need to read warning labels down here, Marley. Remember how you almost ate Lunatic Pudding?” Simeon scolded lightly.

“It. Was. Pudding! Who does that to pudding!?”

Marley screamed before squatting down and gripping her hair with grumbling frustration. Her mind raced, wondering how she got into this mess in the first place. She just wanted a simple day of studying without anything going wrong but here she was, standing inches tall, surrounded by the Purgatory crew. Seeing her in distress, Luke offered his sympathy.

“Don’t worry, Marley, you’ll be ok. She’ll turn back to normal soon, right Solomon?”

Solomon grasped his chin gently.

“I don’t see why not but it depends how many candies she ate and how many sodas she drank. If it was only a few, she should turn back to normal soon. So, Marley, how much did you ingest?”

Marley looked away with her face darkened with embarrassment.

“Marley, how much?” Simeon parroted.

“...Half a bag and three bottles.”

Simeon blinked in disbelief while Solomon sighed heavily.

“Well looks like you’re going to be stuck like this for a while. I should probably message Lucifer to let him know what happened to you.” Simeon said as he pulled out his D.D.D.

Marley jumped to her feet and violently waved her arms in the air.

“DON’T! Anything but that!” She screamed.

“Why not? The brothers must be worried since you disappeared.”

Marley crossed her arms as her face turned grim.

“Yeah, and what do you think is going to happen when they get their hands on me? Especially behind closed doors?”

The room grew quiet as Marley’s statement rang deep within their minds. Solomon and Simeon’s faces turned red with embarrassment as the supposed scenario bloomed in their mindscapes. Luke, on the other hand, tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, what does that mean?” He asked bluntly.

“They’re going to bully her like a cat to a mouse.” Simeon answered quickly and sharply, hoping the young angel took the bait.

Luke gasped in shock while everyone else sighed in relief.

“I won’t let them bully you just because you’re small now! It’s not fair!”

Marley snorted out a laugh before smiling softly with a raised eyebrow.

“Thanks, Luke. And thanks to you all for letting me stay here.”

“Don’t mention it. Besides, we can use this time to practice your casting and you being so small, we can practices spells and chants that need a lot of space, since your range has shrunken now.”

Solomon chuckled as Simeon motioned to Luke to follow him to so they could set the table for dinner. Marley snorted at him in retort before looking away in contempt. However, her attention was drawn with the table vibrated gently as the sorcerer rested his head upon his folded arms. He stared at her with his brown-blue eyes which caused Marley to radiate a defensive cold.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re covered in dust and lint. How did you end up so dirty?”

Marley looked away with a bit of shame on her face.

“I escaped through a hole in the couch I fell asleep on.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer sighed heavily as he pressed his fingers against his temples. It’s been over three days since Marley disappeared from the common room and they have yet to find any sign of her. He never imagined that he would be on his knees for anyone but here he was, on them looking for the now diminutive Marley. He thought about using Cerberus but he was more of a guard dog than a bloodhound. He groaned quietly as he thought about his brothers’ asinine suggestions from using mousetraps to having a bunch of cats roam the house to scare her out. Surely, she would come out from hunger alone but he dashed that aside when he remembered she was a natural-born survivor. He got to his feet and sighed as he dusted himself off before going to his liquor wall. He picked up a bottle of Demonus and wondered if he could use the enticing liquid as bait to draw her out. However, he buried the thought as Satan and Belphie entered his office.

“Ok, she’s not in the planetarium.” Belphie reported.

“Or the music room.” Satan added.

“Alright, now go and search the kitchen again as well as the dining room.”

Belphie sighed in annoyance while Satan groaned in disgust.

“I don’t want to, I’ve already missed a lot of my napping windows because of this.”

“And I need to catch up on my reading. Don’t you think this would go faster if you punished Beel and Levi after we found her?”

“Not to mention you tied up Mammon too. They’re only four of us looking and we’re running on fumes.”

Lucifer crossed his arms as he heard his younger brothers complain to him with solid logic.

“Fine, go untie them and give them your searching assignments. But let Mammon hang for another hour or two.” He coldly smiled.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I am so sorry, Marley.” Luke sniffled as he stared at the little selkie with watery eyes.

Marley just sighed heavily as she wrapped herself in her pelt. Simeon entered the room to see his protege whimpering for forgiveness from the tiny Marley.

“Wait, what’s wrong, Luke?” He asked out of concern.

Luke looked up at the kind angel as he gently opened his shaky hands revealing shreds of familiar-looking cloth.

“Um, is that Marley’s clothes? What happened?” He questioned softly.

Luke swallowed sharply, holding back his childish tears.

“I was trying to make Cloud Chess Pie and I got so into it, and...and- ”

Luke’s shoulders trembled as he tried to hold back his flood of emotion. Seeing this, Marley got up and drew Simeon’s attention to her so she could finish the tale.

“Yeah, I wanted a closer look but ended up slipping into the mixing bowl and almost ended up in the oven. Lucky for me, Luke noticed me in time before I became a baked good.”

“So that’s what happened. Luke, it’s ok, Marley isn’t mad at you.” Simeon claimed as he gave a gentle embrace to the upset angel.

“But that’s not it! She was covered in custard and I wanted to clean her clothes. I didn’t want them to get lost in the laundry so I tried to hand wash them, and-”

“-He used too much strength and my clothes ended up in shreds.” Marley sighed defeated.

“I see.” Simeon smiled as he hugged Luke, trying to calm him down.

“I’m not mad at Luke, he was only trying to help but now I have no clothes.”

“You don’t have any other clothes in your pelt?”

“I did, but those got ruined while practicing elemental spells with Solomon. So if anything, I’m mad at that jerk!”

“That’s harsh. I warned you if your mind is distracted, spells will backfire.” Solomon defended as he walked into the room.

Marley scowled at the tall sorcerer that smiled at her with his own brand of cheekiness.

“Don’t be such a smartass, I’ll blame you as much as I want.”

“Come on, Marley, that’s a bit much. Why don’t you wear your pelt?”

“I would rather have my pelt hidden so it doesn’t go up in flames again. You know, like when you told me to practice a fire incantation!?”

Solomon raised his hands in defeat as he took a seat at the table.

“Fine, you win. How do you want me to fix this?”

“Turn me back to normal size.”

“Quit that, you know I can’t do that. What if you ended up bigger than you’re supposed to be or you get even smaller?”

Marley just growled in annoyance at the smiling wizard who stared down at her. Solomon, on the other hand, sighed as he got up from the table and walked over to the decorated wall table.

“Don’t worry, I have a solution for this.” He claimed as he walked back to the table with a lightly colored rose in hand.

Marley scrunched up her nose at the flower that Solomon pointed at her with.

“You think giving me a flower is going to keep me from freezing your ears off in your sleep?” She barked.

Solomon just ignored her minor threat as his hair moved gently in a supernatural wind.

“Hear me, O threads of connections, weave your protective embrace around my pupil.”

As the words left his mouth, the petals gently plucked themselves off the stem and quietly surrounded the now on edge Marley. She swiped and tossed the petals away from her but her efforts were in vain as she was buried in a pile of flower petals. After much fighting, she finally was able to see as she dug herself out. There she stood, dressed in a makeshift strapless ball gown made entirely of rose petals as a final petal found itself on her head. While Marley gave an audible groan, Luke and Simeon looked on with surprise and wonder.

“Wow, Solomon, I didn’t know you could make clothes from flowers with your magic.”

“Actually, this spell was made with Asmo’s help. He went through a phase when he wanted to dress in flower petals but the minute he got hives, he wanted nothing to do with the idea. Either way, what do you think Marley? Does it suit your taste?”

Marley folded her arms.

“Yeah, if I was getting married! You think this is funny, don’t you!?”

“It’s not my fault. The spell lets the flower I use chose the shape and the fact I used a Rose of the Lady Moon, I’m assuming it has a bit of a royalty streak in it.”

“Ok, so which flower is the hoodie and shorts type?” She claimed plainly.

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peachyteez · 4 years

Text

second chances ≫ DAY TWO, NEEDLES.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added!

✧ note: puppy!beomgyu makes me so soft, y’all don’t even know—

back。| next。

“are you sure this is a good idea?” yeonjun asked for what seemed like the millionth time since jiyu came into work. even though he transferred seonghwa’s file to her, he still had his doubts about leaving jiyu with a violent hybrid.

jiyu sighed. they were walking down the hall towards seonghwa’s room so jiyu can check up on him. “yes, jun. i’ll be fine,” she reassured. “you underestimate my skills a lot, you know,” she teased with a chuckle.

yeonjun pouted and crossed his arms. “can’t blame me for being worried,” he grumbled. seeing they already arrived at said hybrid’s room, he patted her head. “well, this is your stop. hope to see you during lunch and not in the infirmary,” he said before leaving.

jiyu scoffed at yeonjun’s remark, yet she couldn’t help but smile. pressing the numbers on the keypad, jiyu took a deep breath before pressing the enter button.

seonghwa’s ears perked when he heard two voices on the other side of the door. then he heard one of them walk away while the other stayed. hearing the beep of the keypad and the opening of his door, seonghwa turned his head away from the window to look at the person.

he was mildly surprised when he recognized the same female from the previous day. he kept his eyes trained on her with his guard up.

jiyu softly smiled when she spotted the hybrid sitting on the floor and looking back at her. seonghwa didn’t say anything and returned his gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window. jiyu gently placed the clipboard down on the table and walked towards the hybrid and sat down next to him, but maintaining a safe distance. “hi, seonghwa.”

seonghwa glanced at her from his peripheral vision and gave a slight nod of his head—his way of greeting. jiyu’s smile grew wider when he acknowledged her. he wasn’t as bad as others made him out to be, and she didn’t know why.

“can you let me do a checkup on you?” she carefully asked. she saw him tense. “is that a no?”

after a moment’s hesitation, seonghwa wordlessly stood up from the ground and moved to the bed. he sat down and stared at jiyu. sensing her confusion, he gestured with his head towards the stethoscope around her neck.

jiyu gasped. “thank you!” she chirped before springing up from the floor and walking towards the hybrid. she placed the stethoscope in her ears. “don’t be alarmed. this is just to check your heartbeat. i promise i won’t hurt you, okay?” she gently reassured before putting the stethoscope on his chest.

seonghwa flinched from the cold metal object on his chest and he started growling. jiyu immediately retracted the intstrument. “no no no, it’s nothing harmful. see?” she put the metal part of the stethoscope on her own chest to demonstrate how unharmful it was. “it’s not hurting me and it won’t hurt you, either.”

his growling ceased after a minute and jiyu took it as a sign to try again. gently placing it on his chest, she internally sighed in relief when seonghwa didn’t start growling again. telling him to take deep breaths in and out, they smoothly finished with the stethoscope.

“your heartbeat sounds normal,” she mumbled to herself as she wrote on seonghwa’s medical file. most of it was filled out with the exception of his heart rate condition and the shots. it turns out that the previous nurses were never able to give him his shots since he always attacked them.

jiyu took a deep breath as she prepared the syringe. her back was towards seonghwa, so he didn’t notice the needle in her hand. she turned back towards the hybrid. seonghwa spotted the syringe and immediately, his started growling again. and this time, his chilling gaze was fixed on jiyu.

jiyu hid the syringe behind her back. she felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of seonghwa attacking. “are...are you afraid of needles...?” she asked.

seonghwa backed up on the bed as he kept his eyes on jiyu. like the previous day, he pressed himself ip against the corner and continued growling as a warning. gently putting the needle back on the table, she held her hands up again.

“look, i don’t have the needle anymore,” she showed. “please calm down, seonghwa. i won’t hurt you.”

she waited with bated breath for him to calm down on his own terms. seeing that jiyu was just standing still, not making a move, seonghwa immediately stopped. but he still kept himself pressed against the wall.

“okay, then...no shots today, i guess,” jiyu mumbled as she slowly shuffled back over to the clipboard. putting the cover over the needle, she put the syringe back in the breast pocket of her white coat and turned back to the hybrid in the corner. her face softened. “sorry, buddy.”

seonghwa cocked his head to the side, skeptcism written all over his face. usually whenever he refused the shots, the nurses always tried to hold him down to insert the needle into his arm. not that the method ever worked since seonghwa always went into violent mode.

yet jiyu just put the syringe away and didn’t try to force him?

jiyu sensed his apprehension. “i won’t force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. i don’t know what you went through before coming here, but as your new caretaker, i’ll try to help you recover as much as i can,” she explained with a soft smile. “so no need to be afraid of me, okay?”

a curious expression replaced the glare on seonghwa’s face. did the woman in front of him really have no malicious intents? did she really mean what she said?

glancing at the clock, she realized her time with seonghwa was up. “oh, it’s soobin’s turn,” she said to herself before turning her attention back to seonghwa. “well, that’s all the time we have for now! i’ll come by and check up on you during my lunch break.”

with a little wave and smile, jiyu left seonghwa’s room. like the previous day, seonghwa stared at the door. he cocked his head to the side again. “interesting...”

meanwhile, jiyu internally berated herself as she walked to soobin’s room. “ohmygod, why did you have to whip out a needle on the first day!” she whisper–shouted to herself. “so much for trying to get him to warm up...”

“jiyu!”

turning towards the voice, her eyes widened when she saw a familiar golden retriever hybrid barreling towards her at high speeds. “wait, wait, slow down–”

bam!

her warning proved to be useless as the puppy–hybrid literally crashed into her and they both tumbled to the floor.

jiyu, flat on her back with a hybrid towering over her, crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows. “beomgyu, what did i say about tackling people?” she gently scolded as she reached up and flicked his forehead.

beomgyu laughed and stood up before helping jiyu up. “sorry! i just got excited,” he sheepishly explained as he scratched the back of his neck. jiyu couldn’t help but smile.

“beomgyu, come back!”

frantically turning the corner was yeonjun as he searched for the energetic hybrid. finding him with jiyu, he sighed in relief. approaching the two, he bent down with his hands on his knees as he tried catching his breath. “what...did i...say...about running...off?” he panted.

beomgyu stuck his tongue out. “you’re just out of shape.”

yeonjun immediately stood up straight. “yah!”

beomgyu giggled and hid behind jiyu, poking his face above her head since she was significantly shorter than him. yeonjun just sighed—he can never win against beomgyu. jiyu snorted at the scene, letting beomgyu rest his chin on top of her head.

“you actually came out unharmed,” yeonjun incredulously commented. “how did he not attack you?”

“i was just gentle with him. but i couldn’t give him his shots...seems like he hates needles,” she said.

“oh, yeah! yeonjun–hyung told me about park seonghwa,” beomgyu piped up. “if he ever hurts you, i’ll bite him!”

jiyu softly chuckled as she imagined beomgyu trying to bite someone like seonghwa. “thanks, beomgyu,” she thanked as she reached up and scratched behind his ears, making him close his eyes in content.

yeonjun stuffed his hands in his white lab coat pockets. “yeah, he wouldn’t let anyone give him his shots. usually, the other hybrids take a week or two until they get used to us and the checkups, so we can give them the shots. but it’s been about two months already for seonghwa and he’s still attacking everyone, even if he’s seen them everyday.”

jiyu furrowed her eyebrows. “i don’t know what he went through before coming here, but maybe that explains his behavior,” she said. “well, either way, i won’t force him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. the previous nurses were probably too forceful with him.”

yeonjun thoughtfully hummed.

“oh, i was supposed to go visit soobin!” jiyu squeaked in realization.

beomgyu gasped. “can we come, too?!” beomgyu asked, giving her his best puppy–dog eyes.

“yeah, can we?” yeonjun asked. “i haven’t seen him since he was admitted here.”

jiyu nodded. “alright, just try not to overwhelm him, okay?” she asked, although she was directing the question more to the hyper golden–retriever hybrid.

beomgyu smiled and playfully saluted. “yes ma’am!”

yeonjun sighed. “sometimes i think you listen to jiyu more than you do to me.”

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #park seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa imagines #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #did i plan another series even though i just started this?#yes i did

223 notes · View notes

taliahvause · 4 years

Text

730 Days? | Self Paragraph

DAY ONE

“How was your journey here? Did the escorting staff treat you good?” There was supposed to be some kind of empathy in the tone of the Officer, but they had been on shift since 7am and it was now almost 10pm. Vause just nodded, she understood what it was like to be tired. She felt exhausted herself. After spending hours crammed in what can only be described as a mobile metal casket travelling from Manhatten to the federal prison on the edge of the state line, all she wanted was to knock out. To forget she was even back in this shit hole. “Sign here, here, and here. Then we’ll get you in to the nurse, get you some clothes and down to the wing--”

“She knows the drill.” Another, older Officer pitched in, making Vause look up from the paperwork.

“How are you not retired yet, Hunt?”

“Yoga. Keeps the mind, body, and soul young, Vause. You should give it a try.”.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes and then scribbled her name on the last dotted line. She saw the doctor. Traded in her stuff for orange. Then glanced around the reception area, the one she won’t see again for 2 years. 24 months. 730 days... It was only 730 days.

DAY SEVEN

Honey Brown. 1h. 6 s, 2 c. 23a. The note was stuffed in her pocket from the laundry workers and Vause sat down on her bed, holding it with both hands and staring at the writing. It had been seven days, seven days of those ringing fucking alarms, of torches shining through the glass waking her up every other goddamn hour. Just one hit, just to sleep for a night properly. She looked up and across at the picture on the wall. The one of her wife and her jaw tensed as she crushed the piece of paper in her fist. Then she glanced at the calander. 723 days.

DAY THIRTY ONE

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m not moving!” Vause protested, shaking her head as she backed into the corner of her cell. “You can’t move me onto B wing, that’s Brooklyn fucking territory, you KNOW what they’ll do to a Harlem girl, come on!” She yelled as the Officer’s, padded up in full riot gear spilled into her cell. “Fine!” Vause pushed her sleeves up. “You want a fucking fight, assholes? Let’s go!” She screamed, running at the shield and rolling over the top of it, kicking one guard in the face and headbutting another as she landed between all of them. Fists flew, connecting with whatever they could until there was a winding thud in her back and all the air was forced out of her lungs as she was sandwiched up against the wall by the shielded screw.

“Take her down to the fucking block.”.

The bang of the cell door closing was the start of the silence, of a seven day stretch with nothing but a metal bed frame, a shitty pillow and these four walls. 699 days.

DAY FIFTY THREE

The segregation was tough, but it was over and it did its job. She didn’t get moved to B, instead she went to F wing with the rest of the Harlem lot. She’d made a few connections, a few... Friends... Though, she didn’t trust anyone. She knew from past experience that this place was a dog eat dog world. Everyone was out for themselves. The moment you get in someone’s way, or you become a burden to them you become nothing. “Eh, Vause, you’re on the visitation list you know,” one of those tender connections strolled into her cell.

“What? No I’m not, it’s too far out for my wife to come. Don’t fuck with me man, I’ll roll your head off,” she threatened loosely with a suck of her lips and a shake of her head.

“Nah, nah, man, you on there, go check it-- thousand sticks, V.” That was a bit of saying around the wind. Thousand sticks, meaning an a thousand cigarette bet. Vause’s eyebrow raised and, with a heavy sigh, she rolled off the top bunk, throwing the rubber band ball back up onto it and walked out the cell to the notice board.

“Well shit...” For the first time in fifty three days, Vause smiled. This created quite the rally of cheers from her ‘friends’, who jokingly pushed her around a little in front of the board. “Fuck off everyone,” she groaned though the little smile on her face made it hard to take it seriously.

Later that day, walking through those doors and seeing her wife’s face for the first time in months, despite it being through bulletproof glass, her heart skipped a beat. Then it sunk, though she hid that part because this was hard enough already. But, 677 days seemed like a lifetime.

DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

Her head hung over the letter. She noticed the little things in it that weren’t words. The way some of the letters were uncharacteristically slanted. The few red droplets at the bottom of the letter. It was the first of two birthday letters she was going to recieve in these cold four walls, and she could tell Riley had been drinking when she wrote it. Vause gasped for a breath of air when she realized she hadn’t taken one in a while as a few of her tears joined those small red marks at the bottom of the page. “I’m sorry...” She whispers as her knees come up into her chest and she hugs the letter into her chest, falling back against the wall. 623 days...

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE

“What do you mean ‘what is this’?! I ain’t ever seen that shit in my life!” Vause argued, hands in the air as the searching Officers stood before her asking where she had got the mobile phone from that they had just found in her pillow. “Unlock it, I won’t know any of the contacts in there. It’s not mine.” She wasn’t even lying, but of course they didn’t believe that.

“What so someone just put a mobile phone into your pillow?”

“There’s weirder fucking shit happening in this shithole!” Vause snapped back as she felt her breathing get heavier and heavier with anger as she thought about who the fuck had set her up. Was it the women that had tried to bring her into the drug ring that she turned down? Was it one of the women who wanted her to be their prison wife that she’d told to go fuck a cactus? Was it a fucking Officer?

“You know phone finds mean two weeks in the block, Vause.”

“IT’S NOT MINE! I CAN’T GO TO THE FUCKING BLOCK. C’MON, DANIELS, YOU KNOW I ADMIT TO SHIT WHEN I GET CAUGHT-- THIS AIN’T MINE! I HAVE A VISIT ON FRIDAY, IT’S MY ANNIVERSARY, I’M NOT MISSING IT!” She punched the wall, and instantly regretted doing that as she felt her knuckles crack. “FUCK!” One of the Officers grabbed onto her arm and she instantly tensed up and pushed him away from her. “FUCK. OFF. Don’t fucking grab me! I’ll fucking walk!” She spat, looking between them both before kicking the chair across the room causing it to smash and break against the far wall before storming out of the cell. Anything that wasn’t bolted to the ground on route from her cell to the segregation block was kicked or thrown in rage. “WHOEVER SET ME UP, I’M HAVING YOUR FUCKING HEADS!” She yelled out as she was escorted off the wing and down the stairs.

Once again, the heavy cell door slammed shut and once again she was left with nothing but the knowledge that there was only 441 days left... Only.

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY THREE

She had fallen onto her knees in front of the steel door, hands balled into fists pressing against the cold metal. Her cheeks were lined with streams of tears, head hanging as she thought about Riley sat in the visitation booth waiting for her. She had been screaming for them to let her out, to let her go, that she’d do anything, for the past four hours. The visit session would have been well over by now. It was their anniversary, the first one they’d not seen each other one and she felt like someone was ripping her heart out. Her body violently shook as she thought about who the fuck planted that phone, her nails digging into her palms and drawing blood. She couldn’t even write to Riley to tell her not to come. She couldn’t even warn her... What if it was an asshole Officer up there? What did they tell her?

I’m sorry... I’m sorry...

437 days.

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

Vause was still shaking as she stood in the shower and watched the water mix with the blood that washed off from her knuckles. She focused on controlling her breathing, her teeth gritted together as she scrubbed the marks and evidence off her body. It had taken her no more than three days out of confinement to figure out who had planted the phone in her cell, and under the cover of most of the wing being out on the yard, she had paid them a visit and left them in a ball on their cells floor with a bloody face and a few cracked ribs. If it wasn’t for the one person she actually trusted being on lookout and seeing her start to loose control, and so intervening and pulling her away, she probably would have killed her. She made her miss her anniversary. She was lucky to still be alive. Vause stepped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled her clothes back on before wrapping her knuckles in toilet paper and then putting gloves on. Luckily, the prison was fucking freezing and it was the middle of October. It wasn’t exactly suspect to be walking around in a coat and gloves; in fact it was more suspect to not be. She wondered whether the guards knew anyway, whether they supported what she did, because she was never so much as questioned about what happened to that woman... Perhaps her luck was turning. It was about time. 415 days...

DAY FOUR HUNDRED

“Congrats, Vause. You’re going up a level, pack your stuff, you’re shipping out to inner state,” the Officer switched her light on and Vause initally groaned before registering what he had said, bolting up on the bed.

“Wait-- I’m going back to the city?”

“Yep. Good behaviour lessened your security level, you get to move on and we get a bigger asshole in to take your spot. They don’t know how easy they got it in state,” he rolled his eyes as he threw a few bags onto her bed. “C’mon, transport goes in an hour... Unless you’d stay, of course.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Vause scoffed, throwing the covers back and jumping straight up onto her feet. “I’ll be ready in ten-- wait, my wife is--”

“Already told you’ve moved. Ten it is. Better get packing.”.

She was going back to the city. Closer to her wife. Less restrictions. No glass between them at visits... Vause smiled. 330 days wasn’t sounding so bad... And they weren’t, until...

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND TEN

Leaving surgery behind... Switching to therapy... Moving away from the city. Vause’s head was spinning as she paced around her cell, going over everything they had spoken about in the visit. It was something that they had joked about before; running away from NYC the moment she was released, going and hiding away from the world and becoming one with nature. But, when Riley said she had given up her position at the hosptial... When she said she was going to switch to therapy. It just didn’t seem like Vause was in on the full story. She could tell Riley was drinking more than just a nightcap these days, but she didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on in speaking out against it. She was in fucking prison... Everything just seemed so-- out of control. Everything felt like-- she was in the eye of a hurricane. Then a note slid underneath her door. Cocoa puff bowl. 20stick. 2-12. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. That would make her stop pacing. Stop overthinking this. She was almost out, anyway, right? She was almost done. There was only... 120 days.

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY TWO

She must have been convincing when she had spoken about Riley moving down to their new town before she was released, because the blonde eventually got on board with it. Vause had come to terms with it all over the past few months, she realised that New York was her home but now it was the place where she would end up either incarcerated for the rest of her life; or dead. They had to get away from the Apple. Clearly, they both needed a fresh start, and if Riley could get away from the city before she could? Vause knew she wasn’t happy here anymore, in New York. Of course, she wanted her to stay so she could keep getting the regular visits but it wasn’t worth it... Vause didn’t want to let go of her today, and she didn’t until the final warning from the Officers. “I love you... Stay safe for me, I’ll stay out of trouble for you, baby...” She wasn’t supposed to, but Vause kissed her wife before reluctantly letting go, hands going in the air as she looked to the Officer with a little smirk. She walked backwards out of the visit hall, eyes staying softly on her wife, taking in every last detail of her features as if it was the first time she was looking at her; or the last... Well, it was the last time for a while. Vause blew Riley a kiss with a smile before finally turning around. It was going to be okay... There was only 78 days left. 2 and a half months. It was going to be okay. 78 days.

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE

“Release day, Vause! Up and at em!” The sudden light made her pupils dilate and the early morning hours and breeze from the door made the statement even more confusing that it already was. She wasn’t due out yet. There was still more time to go. She blinked her vision into focus and saw that it was one of the asshole Officers and she groaned, rolling her eyes and falling back onto her bed.

“That’s not fucking funny, Georgeman,” she muttered.

“What do you mean funny? You’re getting out, here--” he threw the clipboard at her which made her groan, sigh and sit up. She was going to lose her shit with this guy one of these days. Asshole. Vause pushed on her glasses and froze for a second. He wasn’t fucking around. There was her name, her prison number, and in big red letters RELEASE.

“Well fuck-- that-- came around quick...” Vause swallowed, playing along, just waiting for the sike to come but then he threw the bags into the room and continued down the corridor to unlock the next release. She scrambled up to her feet and stuck her head out, half expecting him again to be stood out there laughing. But, he wasn’t, he was carrying on with his job... She was-- well, fuck, she was getting out early.

61 days early.

That was 5 days ago.

TODAY

Now she was down in Santa Ysabel, she was back with her wife. But it was strange... She still felt like she should be counting down the days. She still heard the sound of boots patrolling and torches switching on and off when she closed her eyes. She was still listening out for alarms. Everyone that passed her on the street a little too close almost got pushed back onto their ass. She had to control herself though. This wasn’t prison anymore. She was free. This was her home now... Riley was her home. It didn’t matter where they were. But, it was hard to readjust... And she couldn’t fucking sleep. Maybe she’ll sleep better in 56 days... When she was supposed to be out... Maybe she’ll stop dreaming about feds kicking down their front door and dragging her away from her wife again then... She can’t lose her again. She won’t.

#self para #730 days #tw; prison #tw; prison mention #tw; drugs #tw; drug mention

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evoedbd · 4 years

Text

STARK

Summery - Lucy James may have the girl, the house, the kids, and the money but one thing she does not have is closure. She visits her mother, Susan Kim, in prison in an effort to figure out just what she wants now that all the secrets are out in the open. Warnings for language, implied non con and violence. ********************************************** “-the walls are too stark-“ That was the first thing Lucy noticed from her cramped chair as she filled out the guest registration. The scratching sound of her pen was soothing. A tick here, a scratch there. Dot the i and cross the t. Two years ago, it would have been effortless. Two years ago, she wouldn’t even have been here. She wouldn’t have needed to visit a prison. Wouldn’t need to answer invasive questions. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ARRESTED? That question formed a pit in Lucy’s stomach, enough for her to let the pen come to a stop. Pristine white teeth dug into her light pink lip, teasing the gloss off as she attempted to think how to answer that. Two years ago, it would have been easy. Lucy Kim had been a stand-up citizen. Not even a parking fine to her name. She’d gone to school and graduated. She had a nice enough house in a quiet neighbourhood. A nice dog. Loving parents. She’d spent every weekend watching her favourite drama series and drooling over the lead actor and actress with equal desire. A desire only outclassed by her love for ice-cream and a comfortable robe. A lot had changed in two years, however. Lucy Kim had started so pure and sweet, until she had been forced to her knees. Until she had listened to men discuss whether to rape her first or just kill her. As she’d stared down the barrel of a gun her life had been chaotically ripped from underneath her. Lucy Kim had learned to fight. Learned to shoot. She even had even killed. Lucy Kim HAD been arrested. Arrested, but not convicted. She’d spent a terrifying night in a cell, alone and framed by her family as she panicked for the woman she loved. Steeling herself, Lucy continued to write down details. Questions of employment, some light medical. Mainly, questions about her legal status. Prison times, licences, if she had any history substance abuse. Again, her pen flowed, the scratch and pauses fluidly mixing with the turning of pages. Around her, others did the same, signing forms or talking in hushed tones on the phone. The soft background noise was enough to break Lucy out of her thoughts, until she came to a particular question. ARE YOU MARRIED? Where before there had been led in her belly, now it was molten fire. The giddiness flushed through her body like a tidal wave, causing her to bounce her feet off the cold ground in excitement. Of course, the sound of her shoes flapping was a change, but Lucy hardly noticed. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of chocolate hair and blazing eyes, the burn of vodka on her lover’s tongue. The saltiness of peanut butter around the rim of a shot glass, mixed with dark chocolate and a sweet yet strong alcohol. Of a black spade glistening over a toned belly, a naval ring just begging her to flick it. YES. The answer was the easiest and yet the most difficult one to answer. It was, after all, the reason she was here. Yet thoughts of her wife were so deliciously distracting. Even apart, Lucy could almost smell expensive lotion. Could almost feel Aurora’s hands all over her, which was not appropriate for a public setting. She forced herself to take a deep breath, wincing at the scent of cleaning products, air freshener and sweat. As her gaze lowered, she noted the light gleaming around her finger, catching in the diamonds of her wedding ring. A ring that had come after the impromptu wedding, and after the wedding night. “-is it hot in here?-“ she wondered, pausing to fan herself with her papers. HOW MANY CHILDREN That question was a dose of cold water to her libido, yet a spring breeze of hope and joy to her heart. Lucy’s lips peeled back into a huge smile as she thought of her daughter. The paperwork was signed, the legal work done. Stella was now HER DAUGHTER. The little dark-skinned girl with twinkling eyes that were steel coloured, akin to hers, but twinkled with mischief exactly like Aurora’s. Those eyes had been the breaking point for both women with Stella. The little street girl who had reminded Lucy so much of Aurora she couldn’t bear to let her go. Lucy James in her mid-twenties had everything she’d dreamed of as a girl of Stella’s age. Well, except she had an inscrutable princess instead of a lug headed yet handsome prince. With paperwork completed, Lucy came to where her signature was required. Thoughtlessly, she allowed the pen to flow, pausing once she was through. It was a punch to her gut all over again. For all her life, she’d proudly signed Lucy Kim. Even after her parents vanished and after the crisis with the gangs, she’d never bothered to sign her name any other way. Now, now that name was ash in her mouth. It was a bitter reminder of all the lies, deceit and horrors she had been forced to face. It was not even her legal name. Angrily, she raked the pen across the signature, erasing the last name with all her fury. A slash for every ounce of pain she had suffered. A slash for the men who had discussed her rape or murder. Four. Five. Six. A slash for every man who had attacked her personally. Fourteen, fifteen. A slash for every time she had been attacked for the name Kim. Twenty-nine. Thirty. For her own parent’s gang who had drawn guns on her. Forty-Eight. Forty-nine. There, she had to pause, panting for a moment before she drew the pen downwards on an angle, crossing it through the mess from one direction. Fifty. For her father. She repeated the pattern on the other side. Fifty-one. For her mother. RIP. The pen finally tore through the paper, as if a knife had been dragged through flesh. A knife Aurora would take for her. The bullets they had faced. Every bruise and cut. It all came rushing back as Lucy did her best to stand. Her legs shook, knees rattling together bellow the line of her dark skirt as she took one shaky step, then another, and another. Each step was a new line in her mind. She was NOT going to back down! Not now. The words and orders passed in a blur as an armed man came to her side, guiding her through a door that needed a code and card to be unlocked. Lucy ignored the looks everyone gave her, the doubt written across the desk clerks face as she saw the state of the paper. It was CLEAR Lucy had issues, but she was not under arrest. She was calmly escorted into a private room, left sitting at a steel table patiently as the guards moved just outside the door. Lucy was not there as a prisoner, merely to see someone who was. “Lucy?” The soft, hopeful voice tore Lucy from her mental blank. It dragged her, kicking and screaming over melted glass and burning coals, back to the sombre reality as she stared into the hopeful hazel eyes of Susan Kim. “Mom...” was all Lucy could say in greeting, clenching her fists so tightly that she could feel her own nails bite into her palms. It was sharper than grazing. The amount of times Lucy had been forced to dive for cover, to crawl for her life, she was very familiar with the feeling of raw palms. The realisation brought more rage, but also deep sadness. “You look good.” Susan offered, almost as if speaking to a stranger. “-in a way, she is. She doesn’t know me anymore-“ Lucy’s realisation was as bitter as the fact she couldn’t stop loving the woman sitting across from her. The years and stress had taken their toll on Susan, turning the hair at her temples grey and adding deeper wrinkles to her forehead. Her cheeks looked that little bit gaunt, whereas they had always been like Lucy’s. Full yet not chubby, the perfect mix of high and petite that gave a doll like appearance. Almond eyes were droopier now, wrinkled in the corners. No longer were they wide and bright like her daughter’s. Her lips were also different. Cracked, with chunks taken out of the skin as if she had bitten down too hard. The shadows beneath her lips were more pronounced, as if a frown had dominated her face so utterly that its shadow even invaded her tense smile. “You mean I don’t look hurt!” Lucy bit back, partially to have a dig and partially to avoid the honest truth. Susan looked like utter, miserable shit. “You know I worry about you, love...” those were the wrong words for Susan to say, but Lucy held her tongue as the older lady continued. “Especially after that Hustler Whore dragged you into the Valentines.” Now THOSE were definitely the wrong words to say. “YOU AND DAD FORCED ME THERE!” Lucy’s scream exploded so violently from her lithe frame that the guard outside seemed ready to jump in. The blonde’s shoulders shook with effort as she placed her hands on the table, keeping them flat as she stared straight into her mother’s eyes. “And don’t you DARE call my wife a whore or you’ll never see me again!” “Lucy. You know she has a reputation,” Susan tried to reason. “Of course I do. I’ve seen the texts Rory sent to all the girls. I’ve seen the scandalous photos and met so many exes who want another night with AJ that I can’t count them. I don’t care to. Aurora NEVER lied to me about any of that. About her profession, who she was or who she fucked and why... unlike you.” the cuss tasted foul on Lucy’s tongue, uttered with such jealousy despite her best efforts that even Susan looked concerned. “If she was like that with so many women, lying to them all, what makes you special?” “For one, she never lied to them. She told them all time and time again that it was a fling, or just a hook up. She was never like that with me, Mom. From the beginning she asked me to call her Rory. Not AJ. Yeah, of course she flirted, aggressively, but she never took it too far. From the first night, I slept beside her. I slept in underwear for months, and never was there another woman. Or even me. She didn’t even try to touch me. She was all bark.” the words poured out of Lucy, drawn out by the alarmed expression in Susan’s eyes. “There was a pattern. As she said it. Woo them, use them, screw them then lose them. What mother wouldn’t be concerned hearing about that? Even if they didn’t know about her... activities” “You robbed her, then fled. You left ME with your name, debts and every gang in the city wanting me dead! The night the Valentines took me, they saved my life. I was held at gunpoint. By masked men. They were going to kill me regardless, whether they fucked me first or not,” Lucy sighed, her energy evaporating as she collapsed once more into the chair. The tension of those events bubbled over, causing the story to come tumbling out. It had to, Lucy couldn’t stay calm and sane if it didn’t. “I was on my knees, hit, gun in my face. I was alone and terrified... then two men in suits barged in. One was as cold as ice, the other was waving a sword. He brought a sword to a gunfight and won,” Lucy shook her head, unable to erase the memory of Yoshimitzu leaping through the door with a Katana. Of Chance, cool and collected as he strode in with his gun drawn. “They tried talking to me, somewhat, but had to throw me into the car during a firefight. My chicken of a dog trusted them at the start and jumped right in. Their hitman was cuddling my dog in the kidnapping car, pausing to shoot enemy gangsters.” Lucy shook her head again, remembering how quickly Seymour had settled in with the gangsters. How, despite their intimidating personas, they’d melted at the Dalmatian Great Dane. How quickly they’d all begun to spoil him, almost like a favourite child. “Aside from going with them that first time, they always gave me a choice. If I stayed with them, they would protect me. Provide me complete freedom so long as I stayed with my guard. They even let me choose, mom! Jailers who let me pick my warden, and Aurora was...” Lucy froze, her ears burning as a blush violently flared up in her cheeks. She COULDN’T disclose how she had felt. She couldn’t admit to how damn attracted to the dangerous woman she had been, or how just a finger under her chin was enough to make her melt. Enough to freeze her in her chair as Aurora had sat in her lap and calmly fed her all the cold facts about her parents. How Aurora’s hands had instantly found the one spot on her neck that undid all her tension. Those chaste, gentle touches had destroyed all shame and reservations Lucy could ever have about Aurora over the next month. Without Aurora even truly meaning to seduce her. Heck, with Aurora trying desperately to keep her devious hands away from Lucy. “We didn’t think they’d force you to hustle for them!” “They didn’t! I...” Lucy coughed. She couldn’t admit she followed Aurora to the cabana. How they’d played with cards in the fresh breeze until Aurora became overjoyed at Lucy’s natural talent. She couldn’t explain how sinfully Aurora had touched her, simply massaging tension from her shoulders until she was practically begging the gangster to ruin her. How just that simple affection and soft voice had almost undone every sane thought in her head. Or how she’d blindly agreed to help the older woman to pay off her debt, only to be signed up as a poker player. “She seduced you?” “No! Not exactly... Aurora wouldn’t touch me. That was the prob-“Lucy practically steamed in embarrassment, even as her mother’s own cheeks flamed up. Two hardened criminals, both blushing like teenagers. “She played cards with me, realised I had a photographic memory, she already knew I could do quick calculations. She figured out I could count cards if I saw even single one. More than one deck too. She offered to wave the debt if I could win a tournament she couldn’t play in after Chance’s father...” Lucy trailed off, shivering despite herself. A lump formed in her throat, tight and uncomfortable. Scarcely allowing her to breathe, let alone speak. “Franco Valentine.” Susan growled softly, her jaw working as if she could chew through an invisible knot. At that, Lucy nodded. She didn’t need to explain much more about the altercation. Save for Aurora. “He was terrifying mom, made me feel small and worthless without even looking at me. Aurora put herself between him and me, constantly shielded me from him. She wasn’t going to let me get hurt, and I knew it. Even terrified, I instinctively went to her. When she was angry, she never EVER hurt me. I wanted to help her. Wanted to get my life back. Then...” “You fell in love with her.” Susan surmised with a contemplative parental scowl. “Yeah. Everything about her is just... I can’t resist. She made everything feel possible. Made me feel safe and secure. She even let me drive home. The moment she saw the damage at the house she was absolutely distressed, even furious for me. She was so concerned that it sobered her up after half a bottle of whiskey! I had nightmares every now and again. About the broken glass. Staring down the barrel of the gun. Rory started holding me at night just to comfort me... Her being there chased that fear away when I had no one I could turn to.” “I’m so, so sorry.” Susan sniffled, guilt radiating from her being. “We never truly thought it would touch you. We were invincible and smarter than the underworld. We felt... like how Rory makes you feel. Brad and I became addicted to the rush, the thrill and games. It was always just one more time, an itch we couldn’t stop scratching. Then we were too deep, and we didn’t want you to drown with us. We were so stupid!” “I can’t say I haven’t been stupid. Chance told the gang not to touch me. Aurora and I, we wanted each other badly. Aurora wouldn’t even kiss me unless I could spell her name. For her reputation, she’s a sweet gentlewoman.” Lucy informed, her lips twitching into an exhausted smile at the thought of the Mexican born woman waiting for her. Rory was respectful of boundaries, but within the set lines she certainly misbehaved. “You’re telling me she treated you like you were her dirty little secret?” Susan demanded, anger beginning to flare in her again. The rattle of her cuffs didn’t go unnoticed, yet all Lucy had the true energy to offer was a shake of her head. A silent rebuttal. “We knew the risks, but we’re grown women. We decided it was our right to decide who could touch us, not Chance’s. As we got more serious, we got caught. Skylar filmed us in the car, after the first round of the tournament. She used it to tilt me. Almost cost me the tournament. The gang got to see video of us...” the blonde bit her lip for a moment, cheeks flushing as she remembered the horror. The silence that had followed as Irving had quickly shut the laptop. Chance’s determination to see everything, even as Aurora had all but begged him not to. “The angle shown made things look more randy scandal and less teenage smooching. It broke a lot of trust. Plus, we’ve both gotten reckless chasing our families. Aurora even beat her brother up in the private casino rooms.” Lucy admitted, no longer bothering with her doubts and anger. She had once been so close with her mother, even her rage and the betrayals couldn’t destroy her instinct to dump everything. The long-formed habit of spilling all her secrets. “I don’t need to hear explicit details, but... does she treat you right? Even if I can’t look past, well, the criminal lifestyle. I would be a hypocrite to judge her for it entirely.” “We’re trying to get out, mom. We have Stella to worry about. And, OH, does she treat me right. She’s everything the rumours say she is as a partner, and more. She’s so giving,” Lucy swooned, her lips curling up hopelessly. The rumours of how AJ spoiled her women were true, but there were no rumours for her thoughtfulness. About how perfectly her fingers could seek out tension in Lucy’s body and erase it. Of how she delighted to rub her wife’s back until no knots remained after a shootout, just to know Lucy was safe. No rumours about how beautiful she was when she was half awake and smiling with her bed hair, or the way her hips swayed when she brushed her teeth. “I don’t need to imagine AJ in bed with my daughter, Lucy. The rumours are explicit enough without...” Susan gaped, lifting one of her cuffed hands to cover her face. Mainly to avoid the far away glaze of her daughter’s eyes. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh, the trickle of closeness growing more comfortable as she talked. The bleach blonde quickly realised what she said may have appeared less innocent than it was. Quickly, she went to correct her mistake, cheeks once more aflame. “Not just in bed. In everything. She gives me everything she is. She never does anything I don’t say yes to. Even if she wrecks me, she cherishes me too. She never just lets me win, she respects me. She’s always supporting me. She’s sweet and loving, even when she’s dangerous and possessive. She gives me the world, mom, and she is so amazing with Stella. She understands our pain and how to help us. She’s even giving up drinking. She started a little before we began dating but really put her soul into quitting the moment we were official. She’s learned she can talk to me, instead of unhealthy habits. I’m really proud of her.” Lucy gushed, her smile growing infectious despite it all. The anger was there, simmering in her breast at all the damage between them as a family. Yet, her mother appeared to be finally listening. Trying to understand. “I’ve seen how scary she can be. I’ve seen her kill. I know she’s not perfect. It isn’t enough to make me leave. She‘s thrown herself in front of guns for me, risked her life because I was hurt or scared. She’s sacrificed so many of her lifelong rules and overcome so many issues just to be with me. She treats me right. I’m in love with her and I love her. I love Stella. I love you too, mom, but I need to build this up. You hurt me, you nearly shot the love of my life. You used the girl who is now my daughter as a weapon against Rory and I... I don’t even know if I want to...” “I understand. You’re my daughter. Your father and I were so convinced that Aurora was using you that we couldn’t listen, and we sacrificed any rights to our relationship with you with how we acted. You love us, but can’t forgive us.” Susan stated, hanging her head as tears dripped from her eyes. “You and dad nearly got me killed. Ruined my life. How can I just get over that, even though I love you?” Lucy asked, suddenly like a child begging for the answer. Her own eyeliner trickled down her cheeks as her own tears started to fall, burning hot in her eyes. How could she? How could she reconcile the burning hatred in the pit of her stomach along with the pain in her chest? “Please” Susan’s voice wavered, catching in her throat. It was raw desperation. Thick with horror. “I don’t know if I ever can...” Lucy sniffled, her voice remarkably level despite the sorrow dripping down her cheeks, and the slurp of snot in her nose as she took a deep breath. A piercing beep broke the air, signalling that their time in the room had come to an end. Lucy pushed herself to her feet, bracing her hands against the table again. The backs of her thighs were sticky, leaving sweaty imprints on the uncomfortable chair. Her backside tingled, recovering the sense of feeling after such a time spent under pressure. “I want to get to know Aurora, and Stella. Even with our history, it’s clear you love them both dearly. Every mother needs time to get to know their in-laws” “You lost the right to be called a mother when you chose scams over your daughter” Lucy informed, clenching her teeth as she sniffled once more. She roughly dragged the sleeve of her blazer across her nose, wiping away the sickly trails of mucus. It didn’t matter if she ruined her clothing, money could fix the damage. Her pride, however? Her relationship with her parents? No. “Please... Lucy... don’t leave it like this” Susan wailed, desperation breaking through as she stood up. The moment her backside left her chair, the guard rushed in, grasping the wailing woman by her elbow. The prison suit hung on the lithe woman’s frame, finally showing how old she truly was. No longer was Susan’s body well fed, rather ghoulish off prison fashions. Off her own guilt. “-she really does look half dead-“ Lucy noted, even as she spoke softly to the departing figures. “Goodbye, mom. I love you” “LUCY!”

#voltage lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #gangsters in love #Aurora James #aurora james x mc #family drama #dysfunctional family

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years

Note

Um.. if you want to- prompt 66 "Why me?" with Prince Valentine?

It’s my boi! We finally meet Valentine (and Cornelius). Also, Garth makes Cam agree to a promise not to murder people and Cam’s not happy about it.

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

I’m also always open to questions or prompts for my OCs!

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Garth peered up at the archways towering above them, growing nervous with every step they took closer to the throne room and the source of their royal summoning. He had begun to grow uneasy, watching the way Cam bounced along in her furs besides him. They were far from the forest now- the people here wouldn’t know just how dangerous such an innocent looking girl could be.

“I need you to promise me something.” Garth murmured, and immediately her flouncing stopped. A promise was a serious thing when it came to fae; no fae could break a promise without risking their own life.

“....what?” Cam asked, her caution clearly overpowered by her intrigue. After all, Garth had never been foolish enough to try to keep Cam to a promise before.

“Do not kill anyone in the castle, do you hear me? Don’t even try to physically harm them. Not a soul. Promise.” Garth gazed intently at her, making certain the fae understood this was important.

“And what if I don’t promise?” Cam was bold enough to ask.

“Then the journey stops here.” Garth bluffed, not entirely certain what he’d do. It wasn’t as though he could completely ignore the royal summoning, and it was already a miracle that Cam had agreed to come this far.

Cam stared at him for an awfully long time, clearly gauging if such a promise would be worth her while. “I can’t promise that.” She decided finally. “I won’t disarm myself so thoroughly.”

“Disarm yourself?” Garth raised an eyebrow.

“What if an individual plans to do us harm?” Cam challenged. “It’s entirely possible we’re walking to our deaths. An interesting premise, to be certain, but not one to which I’ll go willingly.”

“Fine.” Garth relented, seeing her point. He was nervous as well, of course, but he imagined they’d be in a lot more trouble if Cam felt welcome to go on a murder spree should the urge hit her. Fae could be fickle like that. “New promise- do not try to physically harm a single living creature in the castle first, but if they attack first you are free to retaliate.”

Cam mulled over the words in her head. “Seems fair enough. But why must I promise?”

“Because it’ll make me feel safer in protecting us both if I know you’re on my side.” Garth shrugged honestly.

Cam blinked. “I am on your side.”

“For now.” Garth huffed. Cam seemed to have a habit of liking to antagonize him.

Cam was quiet for a few moments, doing that strange habit where she’d tilt her head like a curious dog as she attempted to understand. It was always a bit unnerving. “I agree to your promise.”

Garth gave a relieved sigh, leading the way down the path. “Then c’mon, we mustn’t be late.” He led her to the gate, where he presented the letter he had received not a week ago with the royal seal. The guards looked it over, their eyes lingering on Cam’s inhuman appearance with distaste.

Cam waved.

“Shouldn’t it be shackled?” One guard huffed, quietly enough that perhaps he thought the pair wouldn’t hear them. Garth elected to ignore it. Cam hummed.

“Where are we?” Cam asked, glancing around.

Garth gave her an odd look. “The gatehouse?”

Cam nodded. “And is this particular structure considered to be …. Inside the castle?”

Garth’s eyes widened immediately, catching on to what the fae was doing. She was marking out the territory, seeing just how far the promise she just made reached. It was a thinly veiled threat.

“More castle-adjacent, I suppose.” The second guard shrugged, not catching on to the danger he was in as he returned the letter.

“Excellent.” Cam grinned in a way that was far too predatory. Garth stomped on her foot, earning himself a yelp. The guards sent them funny looks.

“Thank you, that will be all.” Garth grabbed Cam by the arm, rushing through the gate before she could try anything. He pulled her close to his side. “I know what you were trying to pull. Knock it off.”

“Hey, you made the terms.” Cam growled, rolling her eyes back towards the gatehouse. “Did you hear his cheek? Shackled, as if I were a common farm animal-”

“Well, maybe they were talking about me.” Garth argued, hoping to amuse her a bit. She did let out a snort. “Look, humans don’t know to be careful with their words. They say things they don’t mean. And they say rash things out of bias, too. You might get a lot of comments like that out here because the people are distrustful of fae, but you’ve got to prove them wrong.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.” Cam stuck her nose in the air.

“Fine, then continue having them treat you with disrespect.” Garth argued. “They’re scared, alright? There’s a war going on and fae are kind of known for slaughtering humans for fun.” Garth had never thought to ask if Cam was one of those fae, actually. He just sort of hoped for the best and turned a blind eye.

“...they should be frightened.” Cam murmured, but she was quiet as she let Garth lead them along. Indeed, the guards had been only the first to send such looks their way. Several other comments were spoken beneath their breath, some that Garth could hear and all that Cam could hear. She tightened her grip in his hand, but otherwise Cam behaved herself. For an offended fae, she was being surprisingly civil. Garth was amazed a promise could do all that.

“Garth Thornton?”

Garth paused, wincing at the use of his full name. “Yes?” He asked, turning to the speaker, an old man dressed all in navy robes. “How’d you know who I am?”

The man glanced at the poorly concealed fae at Garth’s side. His lips twitched. “Lucky guess. My name is Cornelius, I trust you got my correspondence?”

“Er, yes.” Garth saw out of the corner of his eye how Cam was listening intently. “A word of advice, sir, but you should be more cautious about names around fae.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cornelius.” Cam all but purred, causing a shiver to run down the old man’s back.

“I- I see.” Cornelius took a step back. “Is it….?”

“Dangerous?” Garth guessed. “Only a little.”

“Controlled, is actually what I was going to inquire.” Cornelius corrected. Cam stiffened.

“Enough, yes.” Garth admitted. “She won’t be a danger here.”

“Excellent. I suppose that we will have to trust your word in this matter for the time being.” Cornelius waved them forwards, leading the pair down an extravagant hall. “I imagine it was quite difficult gaining trust.”

“Um, a bit, I guess.” Garth shrugged.

“How did you manage it?” Cornelius pressed. “We’ve been attempting to make contact for years, and several men have lost their lives.”

“I don’t know, I guess luck?” Garth winced. That wasn’t the answer they’d want to hear. “Patience, and gifts a bit, though you’ve got to be careful with those. Really you just have to keep on your toes and watch for the warning signs.”

“Fascinating.” Cornelius had begun jotting down everything Garth said in a notebook. “Though I imagine the young prince will be just as curious to hear your initial report.”

“...the prince…?”

It was at this moment a set of large doors were pulled open in front of them, revealing a large throne room. Atop the violent throne sat an extravagantly dressed young lad, with a slim golden crown atop his head. His legs were thrown over the side arm of the throne, but when the doors opened he gasped, sitting up properly and appearing most regal as he stood with arms thrown wide. “You’re here!”

Cornelius cleared his throat, ushering them inside. “May I present, his royal highness, prince Valentine-”

“Yes yes, as if anyone didn’t know who I am.” Valentine waved off the rest of his title, striding down the few steps. Garth was quick to follow Cornelius’ example and bow low to the ground. Valentine paused, looking at the third member of their little party. “Does it not bow?”

Garth’s breath hitched, wishing he had thought to educate Cam on more of the formalities of court. His blood pressure rose with every moment Cam was still standing there.

Cam’s head tilted. “It does, when the timing is pleasing.”

“Speaking out of turn as well.” Valentine clicked his tongue. “I ought to have your head for that.”

“Cam, please.” Garth whispered, tugging at her wrist.

Cam looked down at him, consideringly, before slowly she sunk to her knees next to him.

Valentine let out an uproarious laugh. “It’s true, then! Cornelius, are you seeing this?”

“Indeed I am, your highness.” Cornelius assured him, still pressed to the ground himself.

“How wondrous!” Valentine raised his hand, allowing the company to stand. “You know, when we heard the tale of the man who’s taming fae I sincerely didn’t believe it. And when you walked in I admit my first thought was ‘what, this fellow? But he’s so scrawny and weak!’”

Please stop talking. Is what Garth wanted to say, but he held his tongue, knowing how powerful a prince could be. Instead, the words out of his mouth were: “Why are we here?”

“What? Did you not get the letter?” The prince turned to his adviser. “Cornelius, you told me they got the letter.”

“They did, your highness.” Cornelius nodded.

“No, I- we got the letter.” Garth agreed.

“Oh, marvelous!” Valentine clapped his hands. “So what’s the problem? Is your family uneducated? I hadn’t considered that.”

“The problem? I- it’s just two pages of gibberish!” Garth put his hands to his forehead, trying to keep his temper even as his anxiety rose. “Could somebody explain in simple terms why we’re here? Please.”

“I suppose I would be able to provide the shortest explanation.” Cornelius spoke up. “The young prince has recently begun efforts for diplomacy on the war front against hostile negative forces. After hearing of your success, Prince Valentine believes you are our best hope at convincing these beings to see reason and listen to our demands.”

Garth had paled significantly in his short explanation. “I’m… being drafted?”

“In a manner of speaking, perhaps.” Cornelius admitted. “This is far less dangerous than an actual draft, we’re not sending you into battle.”

“You just said hostile negative forces!” Garth argued. “What, you’re planning on handing me over to a dragon or something?”

“Yes!” Valentine cheered. “How ever did you know?”

“No, no way.” Garth took a step back, shaking his head. “You’re insane, you’ve got the wrong guy. I am not equipped to deal with that sort of stuff.”

“Oh, we’ll equip you with the finest attire, you needn’t worry.” Valentine assured him, completely missing the point.

“I meant, like, mentally!” Garth continued to grasp at straws. “Just listen to me speak right now. Words I’m no good at. Everything with Cam is just blind luck, it doesn’t mean that I have some sort of silver tongue and can charm dragons and-and vampires and djinn-”

“What’s a djinn?” Cam piped up.

“Why don’t you know?” Valentine scoffed. “You’re the fae.” Garth groaned, hiding his head in his hands. To her credit, Cam didn’t even glare at him, but in a more worrying display she smiled.

“It seems I am lacking in some knowledge.” Cam put her hands behind her back. “Dearest Valentine, perhaps tempers would be lighter if we discussed this in the open air.”

Garth snapped his neck up. “NO!”

“No?” Cam sent him a bewildered look. “But Garth, you’re so tense. I’m certain this will relieve some of the pressure we’re all feeling.”

“And heap new pressures atop it.” Garth hissed, knowing exactly what was going on and feeling uncertain how to best warn the prince without putting Cam’s own life at risk. “No. Cam, no.”

“What’s it doing?” Valentine inquired. “What’s wrong?”

Garth took a deep breath, daring to meet the prince’s gaze. “You need to apologize.”

“What? Why me?” Valentine looked positively aghast.

“You’ve offended her.” Garth tried his best to remain calm in his explanation. “And an offended fae is a dangerous creature.”

“What could I have possibly done to offend?” Valentine scoffed. “I’ve been nothing but cordial.”

“While the prince has a history of a temper, I’m afraid I’m perplexed as well.” Cornelius admitted. “It’s a monster in the castle. Certain precautions should be made.”

Garth began to feel very sick to his stomach. “What do you mean, precautions?”

“Well, our knowledge of fae is limited, but they do fear iron, yes?” Cornelius asked, causing both guests to flinch. “It was suggested that the fae be locked up in shackles for the time being, to keep it weak and malleable.”

“No.” Garth was firm on this subject, knowing that if anyone came near Cam there was a high chance she’d take it as a threat and go feral. Of course, it was a threat. And this whole coming here business was a terrible idea. What had he been thinking, waltzing around with a fae in the middle of a crowded kingdom?

“It’s the only way my father will permit it in the castle.” Valentine explained. “You can do as you please when you’re off on a diplomatic mission.”

“Then I guess we’re starting one of those now.” Garth squared his shoulders. “Where is it, what are we doing, and how do we get there?”

#original characters #ocs #flower fae #fae #camellia #garth #garth thornton #valentine #prince #kingdom #cornelius

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hyucksong · 5 years

Text

vengeance. pt.3| lee taeyong

summary: You survived, somehow. And you were planning on getting your vengeance. You’d be taking down the company from the inside – and no one could stop you. (cont. of mafiahacker!taeyong blurb)

warnings: cursing, slight slight slight sauce, angst -- some other love(?) rivals others than taeyong potentially

word count: 3.6K

Working as the Negotiations specialist was boring. Often times weeks would pass without you seeing anyone of importance, you wouldn’t see any of the members, any administrators, or even any normal employees because you’d be cooped up in your office next to Doyoung’s, writing or answering e-mails.

It was a mentally and emotionally exhausting job, having to keep good internet etiquette and eloquence while answering e-mails from other Mafias about graphic plans for torture or for violent strategies. While this was all necessary to carry out your plan, sometimes you simply wanted to give up.

It was already month 11 of your year-long plan, nothing much had happened in the five months you’ve been moved to the Negotiations unit of NCT. The only thing worth of importance that happened was you getting promoted to being an independent Negotiations leader, separate from Doyoung. However, your office was still attached to his, so it felt like you were simply his underdog.

You sighed as your wrist began to ache from answering e-mails all day. You stopped typing for a minute to roll your neck and crack your joints, finally standing up to stretch.

“Huh, so even you get tired.” A low voice said. You snapped towards the door and immediately reassembled your persona. “What do you mean?” Doyoung laughed and pointed to you with a cup of what smelled like coffee in his hands. “Whenever I come by here all you seem to be doing is working, you never take breaks or even look tired. I don’t even think I’ve seen you rub your eyes once.”

‘That’s because I can’t rub off my makeup you idiot.’ You thought, while shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s work. I have to do good.” Doyoung’s shoulders shook gently, and he shook his head. “You’re really dedicated, aren’t you?” You shrugged again, and at this you could see that Doyoung was discouraged from continuing conversation.

However, he fully entered the room, and made his way to your desk. You tensed up, moving a little away from the desk. He leaned on the polished chestnut wood, his butt staying on the edge while his hunched forward a little while holding his coffee. You could see the steam come off the beverage and hit his face. It was a slightly calming sight.

You relaxed a little and scooted back to the center of your desk, and started to type your e-mails again with him beside you. You heard him scoff and saw in your peripheral vision his hand come closer. His hand gently clasped your wrist, and you felt blood rush to your face. It had been a minimum of 5 months since anyone had touched you, especially such a gentle touch at that. It had been a long time since you really even held a conversation with anyone other that the reflection in your bathroom mirror.

“What do you want?” You answered in a strained voice, trying hard not to stutter. Doyoung’s gentle voice made its way to your ears, causing your heart to beat faster. “I just think you need a break, how about you eat lunch with me and the boys today?” You shyly met his gaze, watching as his pupils dilated with the sight of you. You cursed yourself and gently yanked your wrist away from him, nodding.

“Sure.” You whispered out. His whole being seemed to still at the familiar shyness of your voice, at the familiar gaze that met his, at the familiar atmosphere that released into the room the second he touched you. “Did you know -- “ He began, but the entrance of the room opened loudly, disturbing his words so that they were long forgotten and mixed into the air with the sudden rush of pressure from the forcefully opened door.

“Hey, Sooyoung --” Taeyong started, stopping when he saw Doyoung hunched towards you. This image seemed to anger him, as his nostrils began to flare and his eyes narrowed with annoyance. “What are you doing, Doyoung?” He accused, crossing his arms as an subconscious defense against the scene. Doyoung’s brow furrowed, and he answered just as accusingly, “I’m just talking to her, why? What does it matter to you, Taeyong?” You only watched as this went down, a little concerned. But Kim Sooyoung didn’t care for people.

“What is it, Taeyong?” You quipped, letting your eyes meet his for the first time since you joined the NCT Division. His eyes softened at you, but soon returned to their hard state. “The boss-man wanted me to tell you that you’re moving to your own office. It’s across from mine, so he told me to show it to you.” You nodded, feeling relieved that you’d finally get your own space, but tensing again once you realized that it would be across from Taeyong’s, and that he’d probably be watching you like a hawk. “Okay.” Was all you said before standing up and making your way to Taeyong.

He started without you, turning on the heels of his black boots before marching away stiffly. You looked back to Doyoung, who gave you a tight-lipped smile and rolled his eyes playfully. At that, you giggled and smiled back at him, before jogging a little to catch up to the temperamental Taeyong.

You left Doyoung sitting on your desk, confused and as to why his heart beat increased, and confused as to why it seemed your smile didn’t fit you, but someone else he used to know.

You caught up to Taeyong, walking a step behind him. He increased his speed when you got too close, so you settled for staying a little behind him and admiring the scenery around you.

As you passed by the series of hallways, you let your eyes wander inside each, trying to pick up any information you could. You passed by Haechan’s office, which looked like a five year old threw a tantrum and then proceeded to throw his clothes everywhere. The one after his was Mark’s and you saw him sitting at his desk, hunched over a paper with a pen twirling in his hand. His free hand was messily running through his hair, and you smiled as you thought about how only a few years ago he was such a child.

“What’re you smiling for?” Taeyong hissed, stopping at the room after Mark’s. You looked at him through tired eyes, and stood up straight, pushing past him into your office. “Am I not allowed to have emotions?”

“It’s be better for this job if you didn’t.” He quipped, leaning on the door frame as you stood in the middle of the wood-paneled room, observing the light that streamed into the room in thin line due to the closed blinds. You slowly turned to him, surprised. That was a rather unexpected response. “Huh?” You let out, the volume of your voice falling low.

Taeyong closed the door behind him, drawing the blinds on the glass window closed, he slowly stepped towards you. You instinctively kept on walking backwards til you hit the desk. His face came closer and closer, eventually stopping inches away from yours. His hands rested beside you, trapping you between his toned arms.

His familiar musky cologne filled your senses, and you found yourself wanting to lean into his chest and bask in his long-forgotten touch. You wanted to his him like you used to; while you and Taeyong were never ‘together’, there was no denying what you two had. The prolonged stares, the craving touches -- everything was a sign of what could’ve been.

However, his skin was cold compared to before. His eyes were stony, like they held no emotion; you reminded yourself that the Taeyong you were in love with had little chance of still existing in the robotic Taeyong before you.

What if? You couldn’t help but think, what if he was still in there? What if the feeling of your lips against his would stir something in him? Your gaze rested on his melon-colored lips for a moment more before meeting his familiar gaze. “What are you doing?” You managed through clenched teeth and a rapidly beating heart. Your voice came out low and shaky, as much as you didn’t want it to.

He didn’t say anything, but kept staring at you. His black on black eyes raked over your facial features, as if looking for something.

He wanted to threaten you, honestly, he wanted to scare you away from the company. He already knew what could happen to people with emotions in the unforgiving hell of SM. He knew too much. But his words stopped short when he looked into the reflects of your eyes -- and watched how they reflected his figure.

He remembered the late nights he’d spend staring into Y/N’s eyes -- how he’d revel in the feeling of her taking in every physical attribute of his being. He loved how full it’s made his heart. But your whole demeanor was different from hers. She was open, loving, morally upright -- and you seemed like another roach just trying to cuddle up to the CEO. He was disgusted by you...but he still couldn’t help but continue to stare.

“This place is perfect for someone like you, actually.” He reckoned, laughing bemusedly. “What do you mean --”

“It means that you’re a dog. You’re like the CEO’s pet.” His harsh words caught you off guard, and you were about to yell at him, before you came to your senses and simply slipped away from him, going towards the door to retrieve your things from the office next to Doyoung’s.

You wanted to say something just as harsh back to him -- but the hurt your heart felt forced you to walk away. It hurt to think that he was right -- here you were, thinking about taking down the son of a bitch Lee Sooman, but bending to his every will. It made you shiver to think about how many people your negotiations have killed.

You felt completely helpless for most of the day after that.

“Hey! Sooyoung!” A joyful voice called out, a little squeaky. You sighed and turned around, watching as a youthful smiling face waved at you from a table filled with other familiar faces. You waved once and turned around, ready to sit at a table by yourself, like you did the past five months. But a tall smartly dressed chest met your face, and you let out a small ‘oof’ as your nose hit the hard sternum.

You looked up, rubbing your nose. You sighed, “Doyoung. Hello.”

“Hello, Sooyoung. Aren’t you going to come sit with us?” He asked, expectant. You side-glanced at the densely packed table and grimaced. “Do I have to if I don’t want to?” He smiled teasingly, “Of course! Come on your anti-social workaholic.” You rolled your eyes and muttered a noise of complacency and walked with him to the table.

You sat down rather uneasily, the amount of eyes on you felt strange and you found yourself loathing both Doyoung and Chenle a little. “Hey Sooyoung!” Chenle repeated, smiling widely. You nodded at him and kept your body parts within your personal bubble.

The jabbering around you filled your ears nicely, it felt comfortable to hear such energy coming from around you. You picked up your fork and start picking at your food, but a cool hand brushed against your hair and behind your ear instead.

You eyes practically bugged out, and you jerked backwards, alarmed. Donghyuck noticed this and almost snorted out his drink, laughing at your reaction. Yuta laughed too, patting Donghyuck’s back as a coughing fit emerged from his obnoxious snorting. Your eyes met with none other than Doyoung’s smiling crescents. His hand was still mid-air, but it fell down to beside his leg, nearly touching your leg as well.

“Sorry, your hair was about to get in your food.” You let out a breath of annoyed air and put your face in your hands, flustered. But the joy of having such a smooth interaction, the joy of being around all the rowdy boys once again, made your shoulders shake.

“Ahuehuehue...” You laughed, your face still in your hands. Noise subsided around you as you began to laugh louder, before taking your face away from your hands and revealing a red and teary-eyed girl. “Holy shit...” You giggled, shaking your head. You inhaled through your nose before looking back at a awestruck Doyoung.

“Please don’t do that again, Doyoung.” You mentioned, before taking a thick black hair band and tying your hair back into a small ponytail. You ignored the silence, and looked up at a curious table. “What?” You sputtered, chewing the food in your mouth.

“I think that’s the first time we’ve seen you laugh.” Mark commented, a smile growing on his well-structured face. “Yeah, I never knew that you could laugh like...that.” Renjun commented, his voice taking on a teasing tone. You looked up in thought before taking another bite of the food.

You looked up to see Taeyong seemingly entranced by you. You felt confidence stir up from a deep place due to his red cheeks. While maintaining eye contact, you said, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Renjun didn’t seem too bothered by your words, no one did, but the widening of Taeyong’s large marble-like eyes gave you satisfaction.

You continued to eat and made small talk with the members, but Taeyong couldn’t bring himself to join in the conversation. His heart was currently racing, and he wondered if it was possible to fall for someone you insulted and had a maximum of three hours of talking time with. He watched you talk with Mark, and looked at the corners of you mouth that tilted up ever so slightly at his shy nature. His stomach twisted, and he started to hate the fact that your office was right next to the blubbering boy’s. However, a strange calm washed over him as he remembered that your office was also right in front of his, and that’s he’d be sure to keep an eye on you.

“Alright, well, I’m going back to my office. I’ve got some e-mails to answer.” You pushed the chair away from the table and stood up, taking your plate and throwing it away without looking at the table.

The chattering continued on behind you, and you made your way to organize your office and get some work done before you went home.

Taeyong was rather pensive the whole day, he was confused about himself and his feelings. He found you annoying and stand-offish, but the subtle smiles and laugh you gave others made his heart beat just as fast as Y/N had. He was disappointed in himself, letting some other girl flutter his heart. Either way, Taeyong thought, he’d never pursue you. He had hurt the people close to him and let the love of his life die, so he decided to punish himself by never letting himself fall in love ever again. Harsh, but it made Taeyong feel better about his decisions and career choice.

He looked up from his desk past his blinds and into the cluttered office across from him. He watched your figure as it scurried around the room and put things away. He stared at the curves of your body and how it moved, he kept his eyes on your unsuspecting figure for a while before he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

Mark, in his blue satin suit, had walked out of his room and headed towards yours. The jealous man saw how the younger boy straightened his suit and smoothed out any wrinkles. A sour frown made way onto his features. Pathetic. He thought.

No matter how pathetic he thought Mark was for being so nervous around another employee, it didn’t stop him from feeling emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. Mark entered your room with a smile. You greeted him with a head nod, quickly asking him what he wanted. Taeyong couldn’t hear the conversation,. but he assumed that whatever he said surprised you, from the jolting of your body.

You sat at your desk calmly and chatted with the black-haired young adult for a while, until you laughed and shook your head, and stood up. Mark stood up too, but afterwards he waved to you and left. Taeyong memorized the moment when you bit your lip and continued laughing.

“How unprofessional.” He muttered under his bittersweet breath.

The phone rang in your dimly lit room, and you immediately perked up. The whole day had been rather uneventful, so something like a phone ringing gave you a mini adrenaline rush. “Hello?” You stated coldly, your voice not matching the action of your fingers twirling around the coil of the telephone wire.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim Sooyoung. Please come to the CEO’s office. ASAP.” A voice your recognized as Mr. Sooman’s secretary said, hanging up the phone as soon as she was done speaking. The call ended as quickly as it started, and a subconscious noise of surprise left your lips before you rummaged through your piled up belongings to get out a pen and paper to take to the CEO’s office, ready to take note of whatever he said.

You rushed out the door like a nervous student, almost bumping into Taeyong who seemed to be waiting outside your door. You looked up quickly and gave a lop-sided, stressed smile, muttering, “Sorry, Tae-baby.” You didn’t even seem to be aware of what you said as you just walked off away from an utterly shocked Taeyong.

Taeyong couldn’t believe his ears, because only one person had ever called him that -- only one person ever got his permission to call him that.

Y/N L/N.

Mr.Sooman’s office was just as cold as his heart, you thought. The goosebumps that appeared on your skin has risen as soon as you walked through the heavy metal door. Whether they were from the cold or fear, was something you had too much pride to admit.

His chair was humorously facing the window, away from you when you entered, The action was so stereo-typically evil, you almost laughed. But you kept a serious facade and sat down in front of his desk, where you saw paper work neatly stapled together with the title, ‘Operation: Track and Kill’. You almost laughed again, wondering who the hell came up with the names.

“Mrs. Kim Sooyoung. Pleasure to see you.” You hummed in agreement, and this lack of response forced the Chairman’s eyes on you. He was just as ugly as his personality, his eyes sagging and skin tight from the cold-blood flowing in his veins.

“I can see you don’t play any games, Ms. Sooyoung.” He began, uncrossing his legs and moving closer to the desk. “Well, that’s perfect. For this operation we need someone like you.” You tilted your head, interested.

“For this, the boys are going to be infiltrating the house of the rival mafia’s CEO. And we need an...Inside negotiator to go with them to...well, talk to the man once he’s kidnapped. Someone as skilled as you, I hope, can convince him to do what we say.”

“What is it that we need? Or that we gain from this?” You questioned.

“As of current, he was one of our members in captivity, a man by the name of Oh Sehun from the senior EXO division. Needless to say, we need him back. I hope you can get him back, you can, right?” He threatened, narrowing his eyes at you. A lightning bolt of fear shot through your body, and an involuntary gulp came about you.

“Of course, sir.”

How cowardly, you sighed. You rested in your office, going over the game plan and coming up with a solid plan for negotiating a company member from captivity. The people on the case were three senior members and one junior member not including you; Jaehyun, Mark, and Doyoung (who surprisingly had field experience as well), and Chenle for disguise. Though, he was more so on standby if he was needed for infiltration. A sense of pride welled up in you; you couldn’t help but think that you were the reason for his skills and interest in the field of disguise.

However, more so than pride, you felt excitement. Finally, after all this time, there was a perfect opportunity to take down SM. You could hold the other man captive, yes, but you could use the saving of Oh Sehun as a way to catapult yourself into the true Inside, where it would only take a few months at max to kill the boss man. Another rush of excitement ran through you.

You were writing out a rough draft of your plans, when all of a sudden your door slammed open and shut. You jumped up, hand on the bottom of your seat where you kept a gun. However, your shoulder’s relaxed as you saw Taeyong. But all the tension came back when you heard the lock of the door.

His heaving shoulder’s showed his exhaustion, and momentarily you wondered if he was in trouble. “Taeyong? You alright? Why are breathing like that --” The aforementioned man ran to the desk, covering your mouth with his strangely warm hands.

“Hmm?” You spoke against his hand, moving so that you were trying to pull his hands away from his face. When he finally moved his hands, after looking around for any running cameras, you spat at him harshly, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Taeyong turned the blinds as that the room was completely close off, before he turned to you and took your face into his hands, looking for something deep in your eyes.

The question he asked you left your blood cold and a sense of dread encased your figure.

“Are you Y/N L/N?”

TO BE CONTINUED...

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fandombardofrivia · 4 years

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Uuuh, so I wrote a Witcher Fanfic, it’s kind of angst-y and violent, so sorry for that. I took this scene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uY-rTxAY78 ) and imagined, what would have happened if Jaskier had been there with Geralt for whatever reason and if they had switched places, Jaskier taking the punches there. I feel so bad for them /.\

“Did not know you were a witcher… I’ve always wanted to play with one.” Geralt heard the gnarling voice of one of the guards, who came down to his cell. He sighed in annoyance and upped his internal counter of insults or dehumanising statements to 348. When would they ever stop? Probably never, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten used to it by now. He braced himself for what was about to come, when he turned around to the bard. “Jaskier, go into a corner, and hide. Don’t make a fuss, it’ll be alright, he won’t hurt you, he came for me. Close your eyes, it’ll be over soon. And… don’t watch it, please…”

Geralt tried to quickly instruct Jaskier how to handle the situation, assuming he had never gotten into a situation like that. He had started out really matter-of-factly, but it turned almost … soft or pleading towards the end, quiet enough so only he would hear it. He didn’t need the guard who was now in the cell, to hear his weakness. He also didn’t want Jaskier to see what was about to come, since the humiliation of what was coming was enough, even without his friend watching it.

Jaskier looked at him terrified, but with an underlying determination that Geralt had never seen in his face before, and the bard nodded. Geralt turned around to the cell guard, banning any emotion from his expression and bracing himself for the first hit. The cell guard landed a good hit to his jaw, that sent Geralt spinning and he was disoriented for a moment. “Hey, you fat, pathetic, old coward!” Jaskier had stepped forward while Geralt was disoriented and called out to the guard to get his attention. The guard turned around to the bard, and too fast for Geralt to do anything about it, Jaskier raised his leg and kicked the guard in his - for a man rather sensitive region between the legs. The guard bent forward and Jaskier used the moment to raise a knee to his stomach. “You’re a coward, you’re beating a man who doesn’t even try to defend himself!” Jaskier took a few steps back, now taking his turn on bracing himself for what was about come. He looked at Geralt in a matter of disbelief about what he had just done, but also the same determination that he had seen just before.

So that’s where it came from. In the meanwhile, the guard had already gotten up, and moved towards Jaskier with an expression of fury, and it was clear how much the bard’s words and actions had pissed him off.

Without a word of warning he stepped close to Jaskier and punched him in the stomach, hard. It sucked the air out of the bard’s lungs and Geralt heard him gasping for air, when he fell to the ground. “Oh, you’re not such a show-off now, are you?” the guard mocked Jaskier, while kicking him on the ground.

“Come on, leave off, you’re not here for him, you want me, let’s just get this over with! You don’t have to hurt him!” Geralt had finally found his voice again, and panic shot through his body. This was on him, not on Jaskier. He didn’t want him to suffer for travelling with him… because he was his friend. He was one of the few humans that he’d met who didn’t run away in fear or barely tolerated him, but who treated him like a human. He wouldn’t let him take his punches. As soon as the guard looked at Geralt again, he realized that he’d made a mistake, by letting his guard down and showing the guard that he cared about Jaskier, he saw it by the way he smirked and looked back and forth between him and Jaskier. He pulled the brunette man up by his hair, only to look into Jaskier’s wide grin, which turned into outright laughter.

“‘s that all you got?” Spitting into the guard’s face, he further mocked him and Geralt seriously began to wonder if the younger man had a death wish.

When the guard punched Jaskier in the face this time, he looked at Geralt, who couldn’t help but flinch with a pained look. He didn’t notice soon enough, because he was still focused on his bard, and in the blink of an eye, the guard let go of Jaskier, and took Geralt by the chains that held him in the cell and tied them to some kind of ring in the wall. “No! Let go!” Geralt tried to resist the chains with all he had, but the guard just patted his cheek. “Enjoy the show form here, you’ve got front row-seats.” he smirked and walked back over to Jaskier. “Don’t hurt him! If you hurt him, you’ll regret it!! Don’t wanna take on a real man?!” Geralt shouts, in panic and desperation, desperate to keep Jaskier from harm. “Man? He’s barely human, he’s a mutant, don’t bother with him. He’s not worth it.” Jaskier makes every word come out as hateful as he can, although it clearly hurt him to say that. But they hurt Geralt nevertheless, and a flash of doubt covers his expression for a split second. The bard doesn’t look at the guard after he said those things about Geralt, he shoots Geralt a look and almost invisibly, shakes his head.

It is a look that that tries to say what he can’t say right now. Let me take this. I’m not letting you go through this. I can take this. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Geralt shakes his head in disbelief, his lips forming a silent ‘No’. But he can’t do anything now, the guard reached Jaskier and gives him a punch that sends him across the cell, instantly pulling him back towards him.

“Seems like i gotta teach you some manners, boy!” he exclaimed, punching Jaskier in the face again, and when this sends him spinning, kicking his rear, which made the young man stumble and he fell onto his knees. The guard used the opportunity to kick his stomach again. And again.

“You know, you have a good height for that, easy to reach. And you’re so light!” The guard was obviously enjoying himself, mocking and mocking the bard. Geralt couldn’t do anything, but watch. It killed him to watch the young man being beaten up so badly and he kept tearing at his chains, so much that his arms hurt, but he didn’t care about that. At least it gave him an outlet for his rage. He would even prefer being the one to take the punches, he didn’t even mind anymore. Sure, they’d hurt, but he had been through worse.

When he took a look at Jaskier, he was more alarmed than before, the young man looked like he was barely still conscious, he wouldn’t be able to take much more.

“Look at him, he’s learned his lesson! He’s barely awake anymore! I know he’s a pain in the arse, but he’s young and reckless, he doesn’t know what he’s saying most of the time! Leave him!” His voice is a low growl, but full of despair, while Geralt is pulling at the chains even harder, ignoring the feeling in his shoulders telling him that he is close to dislocating them.

“I decide when he’s had enough! And if you don’t. Stop. Talking.” the guard pulled Jaskier to his feet again, slapping him with each new word. “We’ll. be. here. for. a. long. time. Do you understand, witcher?” Geralt’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t dare to say anything, so he stepped back, closer to the wall and slid down until he sat on the ground in defeat and pulled his legs close to his chest, resting his arms on them.

He’s shaking as he watches the guard now kicking jaskier in his manly parts and continued to kick Jaskier who was laying on the ground.

Finally it looked like he’s had enough, he’s panting and turned to Geralt before leaving the cell.

“Who would have thought that the best way to hurt a Witcher is to hurt his little lap-dog? What is it, do you use him as bait for monsters, is that why you keep him?”

Geralt got up, in a last act of defiance, and quickly considered wiping the guard’s wide grin from his face, but he decided to just spit in his face, which earned him a hard punch, but the guard turned around and left. “Jaskier? Do you hear me?” Geralt looked at Jaskier, searching for even the smllest sign that the younger one was awake, but there was none.

He had never wanted for anything like that to happen, that was why he always kept to himself. Why he would have never raised a child. Because the human’s anger was unjust and would always also turn towards those speaking in favor of him.

“Jaskier, I’m so sorry… I never wanted this to happen… you shouldn’t suffer for - -” he hesitated to say it, because he had never outright said it. “being my friend… For keeping me company.”

There was something cold and wet on his cheeks, he was crying! When was the last time he had cried, he didn’t even remember.

Geralt was so tired, he just wanted to close his eyes, to rest and to forget where he was. What had just happened. But he couldn’t, Jaskier needed him. So he got up again, trying to pull at his chains, to break something so he could go to Jaskier, but they just wouldn’t burst, nothing moved.

He stood there, panting, enraged again, and desperate. He was afraid that his friend was in permanent danger and afraid of what would happen if he wouldn’t get to a healer soon. But he knew no one was gonna call for a healer for a cell inmate. Who cared about one of them dying? One less person to feed in there and no one would find out that somebody died in there. He felt a voice tugging at him, in the back of his mind. Silently whispering I could help him. You know how. Just say it and he’ll be safe, you just have to word it correctly. Come on, let me help. He didn’t see any other way, so he took a moment to consider it and to choose his words wisely.

“I wish for Jaskier to be safely at a healer’s place, a friend of mine. And that he tells the healer to heal him, I’ll pay him later.” He felt a second cut appear on his wrist without having to see it, and Jaskier disappeared. He sat back down, and tried to rest somewhat.

It wasn’t until the next night that he heard heavy boots coming down to his cell again.

He closed his eyes. At least Jaskier was safe now.

#The Witcher #Geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fanfiction #the witcher netflix

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writteninsunshine · 4 years

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Walking At Night Alone - Roche/Cloud Strife - SFW

Title: Walking At Night Alone Author: Donnie Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake Setting: Sector Seven Slums, Cloud’s Apartment Pairing: Roche/Cloud Strife Characters: Roche, Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Marco, Tifa Lockheart, Marle’s Dog, Biggs, Sephiroth Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort Rating: T Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2733 Type of Work: One-Shot Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Past Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, PTSD, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Sweetness, Roche is full of nicknames, Fluff, Cats still hate Cloud Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Roche finds Cloud when he really needs it. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 I’m part of team Cloud Needs Some Sleep 2020, and so is Roche. At any rate, I hope you guys like this! I’m hoping that it being so long will be better than the last one, so that there’s more content for you guys! I do plan on working on some more for these two, but Sephiroth/Genesis is next up on who I’m gonna write. xD I hope you guys are looking forward to that, too! Just a warning, this only received one edit, I didn’t have anyone to look over it the last time that I usually do, so it might have a couple of issues. Let me know if it does and I’ll fix it!

Final Fantasy VII Fic Masterlist Walking At Night Alone ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Another cat hissed, swiped for his foot and bolted down the path to the pipe that lead to the park, and Cloud had only just barely left his apartment. Marle's dog stood steadfast beside her door, panting softly and relishing in the slight breeze breathing life into its fur. The wind rustled Cloud's hair, and he sighed softly, just shy of content as he glanced towards the office.

It was late enough that Chadley and Wymer were both gone, likely bedded down for the night, but there was nary a night where Cloud could get a full nights' rest. Letting his guard down for just a second could prove disastrous; Sephiroth haunted him in waking and dreaming hours alike. Marco had been making a whole host of strange noises again, and to avoid another incident where he might hurt someone, he’d deigned it a better idea to walk the slums. Nighttime didn’t mean much, even in Sector 7 it seemed because there were still people gathered around shopfronts, talking in the streets. Cloud didn’t know the time, but from the relative darkness, he supposed it was late enough that he should have been sleeping. He bet if he swung by Biggs’ place, the man would be asleep instead of sprucing up the dirt in front of his door. Even Tifa was probably long out, dreaming of a better day. Pausing in front of the bar, he stared up at the wooden sign, scrutinizing it for something that wasn’t going to be there, even if he stared for hours. Things like memories never appeared when you could actually handle them, in his experience. Though, sometimes, they did rush back when he needed them. For a second, he could have sworn he heard a chuckle behind him, a very specific tone followed by boots crushing the dirt beneath their feet. When he turned, however, he let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. What had he been thinking? Zack was just as gone from him as Sephiroth was. There was no way he’d come around as often, either. Good memories tended to stay in the past, even if he still had nightmares about that rainy day, screaming at nothing while wearing Zack’s blood on his face. Shaking his head almost violently, Cloud balled his fists to give himself something else to focus on, turning away and starting for the station. It was better than walking circles this early into his evening, he supposed. The brisk night air, the abundant lack of people, it all melted into the background, even as he appreciated it silently. His arms felt chilly, maybe even numb, and the fact that he could just be there and feel that made his night that much more impressive; He hadn’t lost all of his senses quite yet. Waiting around at the station landing for twenty minutes hadn’t been part of the plan. Trains hadn’t been running for the last day or so, and even the hopefuls that still thought their husbands, sisters, fathers, mothers, whatever would come back had all but left. Maybe it was the hour, or maybe it was too much to hope for. What did he even expect to happen? Someone would come to talk to him that shouldn’t have been there? Shaking his head again, Cloud crossed his arms and pushed off of the wall, frowning heavily as he stomped back towards the road leading to the main portion of the slums. Maybe a solid night in Scrap Boulevard would do him some good. He might be tired in the morning, whenever it came, but it would be better than just waiting for something that wouldn’t, or even couldn’t come. It wasn’t until he had passed the factory that he heard what could only be called determined footsteps behind him. Itchy fingers tensed against his own biceps and Cloud hugged himself tighter. If anyone had followed him, they were probably in just as much of a bad spot as he was. Tifa had warned him that he needed to ask questions first, after what had happened with Marco. Someone innocent didn’t need to die because he wasn’t in his head when he attacked them. But the stubborn footsteps followed him past the bar, up the way he usually took towards the school. Another cat yowled somewhere to his right, bolting and clambering into a seemingly innocuous pile of scrap and buckets. The crashing had Cloud on high alert, and his hand bolted to the comfort found in the grip of his sword. Closing around the familiar haft, he turned enough to see who had been following him so doggedly. What he found surprised him more than anything else he could have seen in that dark alley. Standing in the dim light was none other than Roche, that pesky Third Class SOLDIER from the other night. He kicked a bucket away from his feet, firmly placed them in the dirt and gave a wink and the kind of blinding smile that would have made the sun lamps jealous, then waved. Altogether, Cloud could see the man was trying but was he really ready to deal with this? He hadn’t slept in what felt like lifetimes. “Roche, right?” Cloud asked, narrowing an unhappy, almost accusatory glare on the blond swordsman. “Oh, Sunshine, you remembered~!” Somewhere in the excited tone of his voice, Cloud could see that the other was trying his best to keep his voice down. The time and Cloud’s desire not to get caught like this was probably the biggest reason for that. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find you, and then guess who I saw hanging around the train station?” “You shouldn’t be here.” Cloud’s voice was a hiss, not unlike the cats that fled from him, and his arms crossed once more. Roche would give him a fair fight, at the very least, he knew that much; it was the only reason he felt safe without his hand on his sword. If he was here for another dance, they certainly weren’t about to do it in a cramped slum alleyway. Even if Roche didn’t care about the casualties, Cloud sure did. Innocent people didn’t deserve to die because Roche was an excitable puppy. The word crossing Cloud’s mind made his lips twitch in a frown and his gaze drifted slightly to the side of Roche’s head. “Well, it’s common practice that I tend to end up in places I shouldn’t be.” Roche offered a kind smile, stepping a little closer and holding out his hand. “I was thinking, maybe, it was time for another dance. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. It’s been a long time since someone got my blood pumping the same way that you do, Sunshine.” “Shouldn’t you still be topside?” Cloud shifted his weight to his right foot, leaning away with a huff as a show of annoyance. “But you aren’t topside, now, are you, Kitty-Cat?” Taking a couple of lazy steps forward, Roche bent just slightly at the waist to meet those downturned eyes, and his hands took the other’s cheeks in the soft leather of his gloves. “Had to come to find you… You’re intoxicating.” Surprising himself, Cloud did nothing to shake free of the other’s hands, and he pursed his lips slightly, frowning instead seconds later. There was a certain familiarity in the way that Roche invited himself into his life, into his personal space, and he found it oddly comforting to lean into those hands. “If you’re going to be down here, you’re going to have to--” “I already hid my bike, don’t worry.” Roche grinned, perking considerably as he pulled Cloud into a hug. The sudden grip around him had him stiff, jaw clenched and hands held tight at his sides. What was this even supposed to be? “It feels good to have you close, Sunshine.” He whispered against Cloud’s ear, and he gulped slightly. “Can we go somewhere to be alone?” Still stiff but maybe less so, Cloud sighed, feeling just how fatigued he was when Roche had to put more effort into holding him up. Cloud was half tempted to tell him the bar, but instead, he found himself lifted with a stunted shout on his lips. In a quick set of motions, he pulled the sword off his back and held it out in front of them, though he turned a deadly, narrowed-eyed glare on the other. “I got you, Sunshine.” How had Cloud not asked him to stop calling him that by now? “Where’re you staying? You look like you need a three-day nap.” “I-- It’s-- I’m o--” Cloud’s stilted hesitation was silenced with a skeptical look and he sighed, thunking his head into the other’s armored shoulder. “If you follow this alley all the way to the end, it’ll let out near the apartments I’m staying at.” “Okay, Kitty-Cat, be there in a blink.” At least, that had been the plan, until Cloud’s grunt of surprise at the start of his mad sprint had Roche bouncing in place, suddenly anxious. “Uh-- No running?” He asked, bashful, and Cloud nodded, his glare lightening just slightly. “You’re going to drop me or we’ll hit a wall. Take it slow or put me down.” While Cloud’s voice wasn’t a threat, it almost sounded like one. Take it slow, which forfeited his favorite force in the world, speed… Or put Cloud down? The only acceptable amount of time apart right now seemed to be none, so Roche slumped for a second, sighing and collecting his pride from the floor, before readjusting Cloud in his arms and walking like a normal person. Feeling at least a little bit safer in the other’s arms, Cloud relaxed enough to give the illusion of being too tired to fight him, closing his eyes and letting the cool night air wash over him as he was jostled in the younger’s hold. “You sure we can’t just, uh, go a little bit faster?” Roche finally asked as they passed by the schoolyard, and Cloud snorted slightly, rolling his eyes. “Taking it slow for once isn’t going to kill you. If everyone went as fast as you do, we’d never see the small stuff.” “Small stuff?” The thought of missing things had never occurred to Roche, and he looked down with those wide eyes to try and catch the look on Cloud’s face. Cloud looked away, eyes on the dirt in front of them, though they were unfocused. Had he just run through that mission with Zack, there would have been so many things that they both would have missed, and it would have been such a shame. “Like…” Finally turning back to look at him, his eyes locked on Roche’s and he sighed, “Your eyes. If I didn’t take the time to look…” Cloud sucked in a deep breath, “They’re… Really teal. And not too bright, yet.” Roche blinked a couple of times in rapid succession before focusing a bit more on Cloud’s eyes. Now, those were the eyes of a SOLDIER. “Is that bad?” “No.” Cloud shook his head, “His eyes weren’t like mine, either.” “His?” Shit. Of course he’d mess himself up by saying something about Zack too soon. “Just… Someone I used to…” Trailing off, Cloud sighed a little. “It’s not important.” “He sounds important.” Roche replied, ducking slightly around a corner to hide his face from Cloud’s eyes. “But you can tell me when you’re ready. If you’re ready at all.” Those eyes caught Cloud’s attention again when they peeked up, and the only thing that kept him from commenting was the sudden light above their heads. Cloud glanced over to the path they’d have to take to the apartment, pointing the way with the hand not holding his sword. “Over there. Once we get to the clearing with the apartments, mine’s the second one on the second floor.” “Gotcha.” Roche smiled sweetly, readjusting Cloud’s weight in his arms once more before taking the slight right that the blonde pointed him towards. “You need someone to stay the night? It could be fun.” “I have neighbors.” Cloud answered, maybe too quickly, “Thin walls. I can hear one of them coughing all the time…” “I didn’t say we had to do anything,” Roche replied, brows drawing in like curtains over his bright-- but not too bright --teal eyes, “I have every intention of making sure you actually sleep. Even if that means I have to sit outside and tell everyone off very quietly.” He was grinning again, winking theatrically, “Or if it means I have to hold you close and make sure that you sleep, I’ll do that, too. Sometimes having someone to watch your six while you sleep helps.” The way he said it sounded like Roche had experience with that need, and Cloud didn’t doubt it. That did make sense. Cloud had never had a lot of issues with insomnia before Zack’s death, but sleeping with someone around always did make him feel safer. But there was really no reason for him to be willing to be that vulnerable with this man; Roche was supposed to be the enemy, wasn’t he? But a fellow SOLDIER, he supposed, someone who had some inkling of what he was going through, it was something he couldn’t pass up. The safety in numbers with someone who might actually understand him struck him quiet. And he’s a goddamn puppy, too. Cloud couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Roche and Zack would have gotten along swimmingly. “Yeah… Maybe it will.” At this point, he was willing to try anything once if it meant he could actually rest. When was the last time he’d actually slept and not just drifted in and out of consciousness for three hours before getting up? Always exhausted and always exerting himself, that was his lot in life over the last few months. Even Roche could have been fooled by the time flying by when he was stopping in front of Cloud’s apartment not even a minute later. He let Cloud reach for the doorknob, and didn’t let him out of his arms until the door was closed behind them again and the bed was all he could fathom putting him on. While the blond looked up with a raised eyebrow, Roche grinned and shook his head, pulling all of his hair over his right shoulder. “You stay in bed, just a sec.” Setting both swords against what he assumed was a closet, he paused halfway back to the bed, where Cloud sat on his hip with one hand on the mattress. “You’re beautiful.” And Roche was breathless. “I-- Shut up.” Cloud’s delivery was swift and stilted, and he looked away with a pensive frown, biting the inside of his cheek. Roche was almost too much. When he found himself scooting into the wall to accommodate the other SOLDIER, he sighed softly, rolling onto his side to face it. Roche scooted in nice and close behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Alright, Kitty-Cat. This is where I bid you goodnight. We can dance another night away.” Roche whispered, kissing Cloud’s ear absently as he nestled into his back, one leg up and over his hip to hold him in place. Despite himself, Cloud found that this was possibly the most comfort he had felt in this bed, and that left an odd taste in his mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought, finding his mind growing dizzy, thoughts faint, and then fading to black. He slept until the sounds of children running and laughing outside jolted him awake and Roche simply shifted to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding him in place. “‘S okay, Sunshine.” He told him, “You can still get some shut-eye if you can.” Cloud surprised himself by nodding, eyelids sinking closed once more as he snuggled into the warmth the other man offered. He didn’t even need his thin, threadbare blanket with the other man wrapped around him like this. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Welp, there we go! This one was definitely longer than the other one, and I hope you guys liked it! I know I had a lot of fun writing this, it was super sweet and I think Cloud deserves understanding and kindness. Roche is a little over-eager but he’s a good boy, I promise! I hope to see you in the next one! I’m also looking for another beta-reader, if anyone is interested! Please let me know, through reviews/comments/joining my Discord/asks or messages on Tumblr!

#Final Fantasy VII Remake #Final Fantasy VII Remake Fanfic #Final Fantasy VII Remake Fanfiction #Final Fantasy VII Remake Cloche #Cloud Strife #Roche #Final Fantasy VII Remake Roche

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for-a-flower · 5 years

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Warning

The little human moved between tall, snow-covered pine trees. He walked among them, shivering in the cold. He heard a soft shifting in the snow behind him and paused to glance over his shoulder. Nothing. He continued only to hear the sound again. Frisk stopped and looked around. He noticed a few tiny holes in the snow behind him. He narrowed his eyes. "Flowey," he said.

"Hee hee hee . . ." The flower’s soft laughter echoed between the trees.

Frisk sighed, glancing around as he tried to locate him. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"Oh, that's okay," said Flowey from the shadows between trees. "I like it better that way."

"Where are you?" asked the child.

"Why should I tell you? You tried to kill me last time."

"I was upset after what you said about Toriel," said Frisk. "That was really mean. I . . . liked her. I didn’t mean to hurt her. You shouldn’t have said what you did."

"Are you always going to hold that against me?"

Frisk scowled. "Get out here!" he yelled.

Flowey pushed up through the snow in front of him. "Whoa! Fine!" He smiled at the human, tilting his head to the left. "I see you've figured out you can save. That's pretty interesting."

Frisk stared. "How do you know about that?"

Flowey glanced off nervously. "I was . . . watching, remember?"

"I know, but I thought it was kind of like time travel."

Flowey laughed. "Yeah, it is! Kind of . . ."

"Then how do you remember?"

Flowey paused. "I'm . . . special. I mean . . . how many flowers have you met that can talk, hm?"

"None."

The flower grinned. "Exactly."

"Why are you still following me? I thought I lost you after leaving the Ruins."

"Oh? Hee hee, I was just curious about you. Nothing wrong with that, right?" Flowey said. "You know . . . I know a lot about the underground. I could help you leave if you want."

Frisk scowled and crossed his arms. "I don't need your help. I'd rather have Sans help me."

Flowey's black eyes widened in alarm. "Sans?!" He scowled. "What would you trust him for? Do you know him? At all?" Flowey didn’t give the child time to respond. "No, you don't. Trust me . . . that jerk can't be trusted. He's a lazy, trash heap that deceives people!"

Frisk shook his head. "I don't believe you."

Flowey growled. "Look, human. If you want to get anywhere, listen to this warning.” The flower shifted to a serious, slightly threatening tone of voice. “Don't . . . let him . . . find out anything about you. He will remember it, and he won't forget. He's dangerous. Stay away from him."

Frisk shrugged. "What could I tell him that would upset him? That I'm human? He knows that already."

Flowey stared. "What? Are you stupid? You killed her . . . Toriel. If you let him find out . . . your world will end."

"My whole world?"

"Yes! Do not trust that skeleton! Stay far away from him!" Flowey paused to smile then added something else with a happier tone of voice. "His brother however . . . he's fine. I've had a lot of fun playing jokes on him in the past." Flowey laughed to himself. "Oh, and he even started a Flowey Fan Club. You should join!"

Frisk sighed. "Don't tell me what to do, Flowey. I'll make friends with Sans if I want. Just go away, leave me alone, and stop following me."

Flowey frowned, giving the child the most pitiful look he could manage. "Aw . . . can't we be friends?"

Frisk glared back. “No.”

Flowey growled. "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you." The Golden Flower burrowed, disappearing in the snow.

Frisk continued on until he found Papyrus again. He solved a few more puzzles and came across other dog creatures, who were part of the Royal Guard Papyrus had mentioned. All were on the lookout for humans, but Frisk managed to get passed them by either petting them, playing a game of fetch, or running for his life. They were similar to typical dogs on the surface. The only difference being that they were humanoid, had weapons and armor, and could talk. Most just wanted some love and attention. They were probably lonely after spending long lengths of time out in the snow looking for humans by themselves. Frisk was quickly realizing that a lot of the monsters in the underground were lonely or simply . . . hopeless.

As Frisk followed signs toward a small town, he wondered if there was a way to free them. He wanted to know more about the monsters. Was there a way to get them out of here? Did anyone besides Asgore have a plan? Was anyone else trying? Frisk’s line of thought left when he neared a long, narrow wooden bridge over a gap in the plateau. He could see Papyrus and Sans waiting at the other end. Several wooden structures of a town could be seen just beyond them. Frisk smiled and started his was across the bridge.

This time Papyrus seemed more frustrated than before. "Human!" he shouted. Frisk stopped in the center of the bridge. "This is your final and most dangerous challenge! Behold the gauntlet of deadly terror!" Frisk stepped back in alarm when several large blades swung down to hang above the bridge, along with a cannon, a mace, and a thing shooting out fire. His heart picked up pace as fear swept in. "When I say the word, it will fully activate!" said Papyrus. "Cannons will fire! Spikes will swing! Blades will slice! Each part will swing violently back and forth! Only the tiniest chance of victory will remain!" Frisk glanced over at Sans, who smiled back as usual. But after getting that warning from Flowey, Frisk found his trust toward Sans was faltering. What if he already knew he killed Toriel and was playing along so Frisk would reach the most challenging puzzle and die?

"Are you ready?!" said Papyrus.

Frisk shook his head, dark hair flowing slightly in a cold breeze. "Not really."

"Oh. Well . . . I'll give you a few seconds." The taller skeleton paused to wait quietly at the other end of the bridge. Frisk took a second or two to glance over the hazardous objects hanging in his path. He was scared. He didn’t want to die again. Reluctantly though, he stepped forward. He didn't know what was going to happen. He just wanted to get it over with. "Are you ready now?" said Papyrus.

Frisk nodded, trembling nervously. "I . . . hope so."

"Good! Because I am about to do it!" Papyrus stared at Frisk, yet all the dangers still hung motionless between them. Several seconds passed.

Sans glanced at his brother. "Well? What's the hold up?" he asked.

Papyrus turned to glare at him. "Hold up?! What hold up?! I'm . . . I'm about to activate it now!" He faced Frisk again. Pause. Frisk waited nervously for something to happen. Papyrus started sweating, a look of concern coming across his face as he stared in the child’s direction. Frisk stared back. A soft, chilly breeze blew over the area as they stood in silence and continued staring.

Sans eventually ended the silence. "That, uh, doesn't look very activated," he said.

Papyrus scowled. "Well! This challenge . . . it seems . . . maybe . . ." He glanced away. "Too easy to defeat the human with. Yeah! We can't use this one!" Frisk smirked. It kind of made sense now. Papyrus wanted to be known for something but at the same time . . . he couldn't make himself hurt even a human. Papyrus continued. "I am a skeleton with standards! My puzzles are very fair and my traps are expertly cooked! But this method is too direct! No class at all!" He smiled. "Away it goes." Frisk sighed in relief as the objects in his path lifted out of the way. Papyrus glanced down, still sweating. "Phew." Sans stared at his brother. Papyrus noticed and scowled. "What are you looking at?! This was another decisive victory for Papyrus!" He tried to laugh but couldn't manage more than a short “Ha!” before hurrying off.

Frisk crossed the bridge and joined Sans on the other side. "So, where'd he run off to?"

Sans shrugged. "Toward town but . . . I don't know what my brother's gonna to do now," he said. "If I were you, I would make sure I understand how blue attacks work."

"Hu? Don't I already know about that?"

"No, that was cyan. This is different. Some monsters can cast a blue, magic spell on a particular object or person," said Sans.

"What does it do?"

"It makes them easier to target."

Frisk was alarmed to hear this. "Target?"

"Heh . . . Don't worry too much about it. Papyrus is too nice to kill you," he said.

"Yeah, I know."

"Good luck, kid," said Sans.

"Thanks." Frisk continued toward the small town ahead, glancing back briefly. Sans was already gone. For being so inactive, Sans seemed to get around impossibly fast.

Full Chapter List

#undertale #fan fiction #snowdin #frisk #flowey #sans #papyrus #part three #frisky business #foraflower au

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ask-the-cordium-crew · 5 years

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The expariments behind closed doors (A WKTC story)

amazing artwork done by @mechanicalanakal go cheek them out!

this story takes place during volume 6 of rwby this story is rather long and extremely dark you have been warned

mark was in his office he had just finished some reports for salem he soon began to tap his fingers as he sent them away to dr. walts he now had nothing todo at the current moment he had some time off and he wasn’t needed for any missions besides watching over emerald and mercury

he had camaras all around his mantion he watched from a tablet in his office though he’s able to take it with him anywhere he just mainly keeps it in his office

he watched them they didn’t seem to be doing much besides training sparing and watching tv it was quite boring for him to watch he felt appalled seeing the outfit worn by emearld sure showing less skin was good on the battle field but to him it just made her look like a slut he laughed at his own joke he also happened to have speakers around so he can speak to anyone he was watching soon enough he was altered to the front door camara he turned his head

he soon saw the front door open and benjermin his loyal butler/body guard bring in a large box about the size of a human with air holes mark began to smirk oh ben was back with his little pet project he soon made his way downstairs opening his secert room just beside the left stairway in his manor

“ah i see you were able to-do as you were asked good job benjermin!”

benjermin blushed and smiled happily as he gave mark the crate

“all in a days work sir oh and before i forget it’s a dog faunus this time sir!”

mark began to rub his chin gently soon emearld and mecury walked out to see what was happening by the time they saw this they soon saw a door close the secert door and walked up to benjermin

emearld was the first one to ask something “uh hey whats with that door? whats behind there?”

benjermin soon began to dust the place after he closed the front door he then turned to face emearld “why it’s masters private room only he knows how to get in and thankfully it’s sound and smell proof from the outside”

mercury walked infront of him interupting his work as he groaned

“...why the hell would it be important for that room to be sound and smell proof ben?”

benjermin shivered and looked away before sighing and standing up stright and began to work once again after pushing him out of the way much to mercurys anger ben was still twiching as he worked away and soon finally answered

“you’ve heard a scream before the same day your friend made my master mad lets just say what he dose behind closed doors isn’t very saninatry”

both gulped as they looked at where the room would be they can only guess what sort of horrors mark dose inside that room they both then said “point taken” then left to just talk about what was happening with eachother and benjermin began to clean around outside

mark then soon opened the create relasing a dog faunus girl the girl had light brown dog ears but her hair was a much darker brown along with that she was dark skinned and even had brown eyes she was in perfect condition besides being a bit underdressed only wearing a yellow tank top and blue shorts that were ripped up

mark soon chained her neck to the wall of a cage with in the right side of the room after that he hand cuffed each of her arms to the bars of the cell which were very far apart causing her pain since her arms were being streched out slightly more then they should be but not enough to break anything

after this mark soon put chains on her ankles that were attached to the wall he then backed up as he looked at her up and down

“benjermin went all out on this one... good... she will be a perfect little expariment”

the girl looked up at him in shock and horror she was about to scream out calling for help when mark stabbed her in the lip with a sowing needle she looked suprised and started crying asking him to stop the best she could before her lips were fully sown shut all she could do is cry

“why am i doing this?... simple your a filthy animal horrible a waste of space and recorces i am gonna make people hate you alot more then they already do by making you a real animal... A GRIMM!”

he laughed loudly she looked at him with fear soon he injected himself with a needle his eyes glowed red and bright as he soon slit his wrist and allowed his veins to cover his fingers to make deadly needle like claws soon using two fingers and stabbed her in the back of the neck

this wound was two deep side ways holes simalar to the marks that would be left by a vampire she then would feel some sort of black sludge being injected into her neck causing her to wiggle and squirm like crazy

but he wasn’t done injecting her yet after this he carefully grabbed her hand turning it backwards and very softly like a scaple cut into her arm where her veins would be injecting her arm with more of the odd black sluge he then did the same to her other arm finally he used one finger aimed it inbetween her breasts and stabbed her carefully with one of his claws injecting the last of the black sluge before carefully patching up her wounds

after this he attached a feeding tube thru a hole in the front of her neck along with a water tube just to keep her alive he had skill to-do this so he wouldn’t need to feed her he had never stiched someones mouth closed before so he wanted to see what effect it would have after the transformation was complete but that would take at least 4 weeks and he had all the time in the world

after that he soon left and came back each and every day making sure she got the food she needed after that he tortured her leaving brusies cuts marks all over burning her making her bleed at the end of the week he came in and the transformation had begun

the bones from her legs started to stab thru her skin as black fur started to grow on them she was crying in pain more then ever trying to scream out but only leading to mummering sounds she was in so much pain as she felt her own bones twist and squirm inside her own body slowly breaking out to cover some parts of her mark wrote this down and recorded the whole process

the second week came by her legs and arms were fully covered in black hair as she seemed to have grown to 10 foot tall her back was also showing signs of change as her spine and other back bones have started to leave her body and place themselfs on the outside they seemed to be growing and changing into rather large spikes mark smirked at this as she also seemed to be losing her own mind fighting much more violently and beganing to try and growl and free her mouth from the stiches he removed them but replaced them with much stronger ones very fast metal stiches covered in little bits of dimoand making them extremely tough while he was replacing them she almost bit his finger off and growled extremely loud he jotted this down as a sign of good progress

the third week came and she was almost fully changed her rips left her body covering her chest her finger nails growing and changing to much longer and sharper her back spikes had fully grown in and black hair almost fully covered her her mind was almost completely gone she still showed to be scared but she also tried to injure herself because of this not to kill herself but her form beganing to understand what it’s gonna become grimm do hunt people who show great fear and since she was showing great fear she tried to hunt her ownself but because of her bindings she was unable mark soon removed the food tubes from her neck she grunted in pain one of her eyes had fully changed and a mask was almost fully formed at this point made from her skull

the final and forth week came mark came in and she had broken her own chains she had fully transformed the only things remaining of her were her brown faunus ears they had changed to more of an alpha ear type but they remained brown for whatever reason that might be she was a bit shorter then most alpha beowolf but still quite strong mark then called dr. walts who arrived with a ship he was already heading away on a mission given to him by salem so he would pass by marks location so it was perfect for the both of them

the new beowolf alpha was loaded onto the ship mark gave him full reports and recordings which he gladly took

“another expariment gone sucessful hmm... still can’t completely perfect the change they still seem to show some of their oldself by the fact she is shorter then most alphas and the color of her ears... but besides that she is fully changed”

dr. walts nodded and rubbed his chin

“hmm well even so you have done a fantastic job i am sure one day these remainers of the past won’t remain but prehaps this will give them an edge”

mark smiked and laughed “right you are dr. walts right you are!”

dr. walts soon left and after a bit of traveling when they just finished refuling in the forest while staying hidden dr. walts pressed a button opening the grimms cage who jumped out of the ship in hunt mode of a little forest home near by the grimms mouth had grown in a way where it had no working mouth it’s mouth was completely grown seeled shut but with teeth sticking out of it’s seeled mouth none the less

and because it could not make any growling or howling noises it could not be a proper alpha however it would be more stealthy then most all that remained of the girl was gone and now she was just a killing machine

hope you guys all enjoyed the story i worked hard and it’s my longest who killed team cordium based story in a long time

please send me your thoughts after reading! it would mean the world to me and for information on who the faunus girl click below!

for thoes who are curious the dog faunus in question is this lovely little backround chararter from volume 3 of rwby why you may ask? welp we know nothing about her and she’s a chararter i could kill off without hearing people complain about it

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deceasedatsunrise · 5 years

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Killer AU Concepts

Eh, Killer!Survivor AUs may seem done to death but it's still plenty fun and I wanted to take a crack at it.

Whenever a new chapter comes out I’ll try to come up a killer au! for any new survivors and add them via reblogs.

Here's my ideas, I’ll try to give them all a Killer Alias, short backstory, an idea of what their power would be, a quick description of their appearance, and their weapon. I’m not good at perks so for now, just imagine all of their killer perks being reskins of the canon killer perks.

More below cut.

Warning for DBD typical topics: Murder, Torture, Trauma, Parental Death, Body Horror, drowning, dismemberment, car crashes

Dwight Fairfield (The Ghost) - It was meant to be an innocent prank, one where they’d laugh at Dwight’s expense once again. While the boss was still asleep they simply took advantage of the cheap inflatable mattress Dwight brought along for the retreat and simply let lake do the rest. When he woke up, he panicked, and fell off the floating mattress into the chilly water. The others laughed, but stopped when Dwight never emerged. They lied, saying that he left early, and pretended nothing was wrong. They would never know that, as his lungs filled with water, Dwight begged for help from anyone-or anything...and something answered.

The boss left for a moment, just a few minutes to call Dwight to tell him he’ll be looking at even lower pay if he leaves again without checking with him. He returned to the retreat’s site to find the bodies of his employees.

Now as a malignant spirit, Dwight resembles a cold, bloated corpse suspended in the air as if carried by invisible puppet strings.

His Power would be called Haunting Grounds, a teleporting ability that assists in locating survivors. He can see the auras of generators in his terror radius, and may teleport to one as long as it’s not being worked on by a survivor. The teleport and recharge takes a couple of seconds, with a very small sound cue. He cannot teleport to fully charged generators, but when the gates are all powered he gains a significant speed boost. (This is based on the teleporting mechanic in Soul at Stake, so yes I am in fact stealing from a DBD Clone).

His main weapon is a large tent spike, stained with blood and rust. Useful for quickly killing those who’ve wronged you.

Meg Thomas (The Predator) - Meg Thomas never lost hope, even as her mother fell ill. Then one day, her mother collapsed suddenly after she supposedly began to feel better. Meg was in a hurry, she simply loaded her mother into their car and made her way to the hospital. No time to wait for an ambulance, no time for seatbelts, and no time to take into account that she didn’t have a license. She was reckless, believing she knew enough to save her mother, and it had cost her. She ran into a car and was sent flying, she came crashing down. She dragged herself through debris, both legs maimed by the crash alongside a useless arm, to look for her mother. She found her, she didn’t make it.

She heard the cries of the man she rammed with her mother’s car, and crawled her way to him, along the way she picked up a tire iron that had fallen out of the trunk. When police investigated they found two bodies, one was chalked up to the accident while homicide investigated the skewered driver. Meg dragged herself into the nearby woods, the only way she could escape her mistakes, as she was in no state to run. The entity had repaired her body, with grotesque, gangly limbs made in it’s own image, allowing her to hunt the survivors she could’ve ran with if she wasn’t so, so reckless. Several small spider-like legs jut out of her back and her eyes have been touched by the entity, making her vulnerable to flashlights.

Her main Power is New Instincts, her new body follows the rules of beasts when hunting her prey. Think of it as a mixture of the Pig’s Ambush ability and Fatal Frenzy. Using the power button will make her enter Stalking mode, where she’ll crouch down and lose her terror radius. Using the power button again will initiate Frenzy mode, where she’ll chase after survivors and instantly attack them if she’s close enough(this attack can also destroy dropped pallets). This will apply Deep Wound, or shorten the bleed out timer of a survivor who already has the status effect. If she attacks someone who already has Deep Wound in Frenzy mode she’ll be momentarily stunned but the survivor’s mend meter will lose a part of it’s progress as well.

Her main weapon is a her own Mangled Arm, an appendage similar to the entity’s claws, regrown after she was collected. After making a hit she’ll grip her head in agitation.

Claudette Morel (The Gardener) - Claudette Morel found happiness a rarity, none of her relationships extended beyond others taking advantage of her knowledge. Stress was killing her, in more ways than one, all because she was lucky enough to make it to a good college. Under her façade of a curious student, was a ticking time bomb waiting for a single spark. She was aiming for a great opportunity, to intern for actual botanists, as long as she kept her grades up. But she had overslept, too many all-nighters added up and she paid the price. Her strict teacher locked her out of the classroom, and she had to watch the class finish the test without her. Her grades were already in danger of falling, but this one F sealed it, so her spot went to another student. Claudette stopped coming to classes, and her chat rooms were left silent. There were five students selected for the Internship, all five and one teacher were found in the forest. The bodies were buried, but beautiful, non-native flowers were planted on top of their graves as markers. Claudette was spotted by a jogger walking into the woods, but she was never found.

The Gardener was once a human, now she’s merely a vehicle for the parasitic plants consuming her. Vines entangle her body, and flowers obscure her face. Her stomach is gruesomely torn open, thick vines spill out like intestines and have wrapped themselves around her waist and legs. The flowers are “Pustulas”, the flowers that grow from the hallowed blight cankers and produce the Putrid Serum.

Her Power is called Parasitic Saplings, giving the gardener the ability to infect survivors with nutrient draining plants. When a survivor is downed, she may use her action button to “plant” the seeds in their open wounds. The survivors are now in a short timer where the plants grow, once the time is done they can now remove the fully grown plants. However a second timer pops up, if the survivor does not “prune” themselves in time the vine growing on their bodies will bind them in place until either another survivor untangles them or the killer downs bound survivor. Pruning is a non-healing action, and being hooked or hit by the killer’s weapon will pause the timers for varying amounts of time.

Her main weapon is a Gardening Shear, half of a pair that still leaves it’s mark in bone just the same.

Jake Park (The Greenman) - When Jake Park ran away to live off the grid, only his mother bothered to keep tabs on him. When she reported him missing the police gave up their search in little time, despite her pleading. If they searched harder, perhaps they would’ve found him. He went on a hike to restock, but made a mistake while climbing. He found his leg trapped between a rock and a hard place, and his screams were swallowed up by nature. No one truly knows what it means to survive, not even Jake Park until this very moment, when he tore himself free. Even with a splint Jake’s skills only grew, his near death experience proved to him that he truly was alone in this. He fully integrated into the forest life, only interacting with humans to steal tools and food. When hunters entered his territory, he dealt with them with skill and precision.

Jake had fashioned a mask from the skull of one of his victims, the only warning sign his victims would receive before he killed them. He crafted an outfit that would blend in easily, leaves were woven together into a cloak and skins were stitched together to provide warmth. Urban Legends cropped up, of a “Greenman” who raided campsites and mauled solitary survivors with ease.

The Greenman’s Power are his Handmade Arrows, with only natural materials the Greenman had created a formidable secondary weapon. Similar to the Huntress’ hatchets, the arrows will have a charge time that allows you to aim and shoot them. Two arrows, without add-ons, will make a survivor go down one health state. However, when an arrow hits a survivor it will stay embedded in their body until the survivor pulls it out. If the arrows aren’t pulled out then the survivor will groan audibly until it is, add-ons can add status effects to his arrows.

His main weapon is a Broken Antler, taken from a moose he fell. It’s best to use every part of the animal after killing it, right?

Nea Karlsson (The Shadow) - Nea Karlsson delinquency became a downward spiral into disaster. She had grown sick of her parents and ran away, she mainly couch surfed to get by, pick pocketing to afford food. She never lost her interest in tagging, becoming more bold every time. Her skills developed, allowing her to sneak past guards and dogs with ease. She was a shadow, as that was the only thing anyone saw of her when she struck. Except one day, when she was caught. Pure chance, but she wasn’t going to jail. She tried to break free but he wouldn’t let her go, not until she struck him with the crowbar in her hands. Nea wondered if she meant to do it, or if it was an accident, but something in her gut told her that it was necessary. And something even deeper inside of her told her it was thrilling. She experimented with her crimes, violence became a norm for her. She no longer associated with others, and a string of violent assaults, and murders, began to gain media attention. Nea was never caught...by the police, anyway.

Nea is a shadow, a pitch black hole in the rough shape of a human. Bright, white eyes peer out of the darkness.

The Shadow’s Power is called Security Measures, barbed wire traps that remind her of the many gates she’d jumped. She begins the game with eight Barbed Traps that she can place on Vaults, areas where pallets were, and between doorways. They are extensions of the entity, and ensnare victims to unknowingly go through them. When caught in a Barbed Trap the survivor will have to wiggle out, doing a skill check at the end of the wiggle meter. If they fail the skill check they can still get out, but they are downed by one health state. They work similarly to the Hag’s traps, where an old one will disappear if you use another trap after placing all at your disposal. The shadow can pick them up and move them to other areas.

Her main weapon is a simple crowbar, a tool with many purposes for her lifestyle.

Laurie Strode/Cythia Myers (The Copycat) - Michael Myers was let out of the asylum without much fanfare, yet Cynthia Myers never got to meet him before a car crash left her an orphan. Michael was legally old enough to live on his own, but she went to live with the Strode family as he refused to take custody of her. Cynthia had grown to resent her brother, as his legacy followed her wherever she went. Her classmates were not kind to her loss, and she shrunk away from large crowds. Even after convincing her adoptive parents to let her change her name, any person she attempted to grow close to would find out about her brother’s crime. The bullies were one thing, but the “True Crime Freaks” were a hell of their own. Judith would be remembered as a corpse, and “Laurie” would be remembered as the sister of a murderer. A dark whisper began to grow louder, asking why she should be the one to suffer? When her brother was the killer, shouldn’t have the one to pay for what he did to his sisters?

She found him, and paid him back. Murders began to spring up in the town he lived in, the victims were the eldest daughter of families with more than one child. Laurie thought it’d be easy, they’d easily assume Michael went back to his old ways and then lock him up again. But that wasn’t enough, she had to make sure he suffered. No one knew what happened on Halloween Night, except Michael and Laurie, who both disappeared that same night.

Laurie wears a clown mask similar to the one Michael wore that fateful night, alongside a bulky jacket and grimy jeans. Every inch of skin was covered, so that it’d be easier for any escapees to confuse her for Michael.

Laurie’s Power is called Survival of the Fittest, watching the survivors from afar has led to her learning their tricks. The Copycat can do many actions that were thought to be limited to survivors only.

- She can Sabotage Gens, Chests, and Lockers. Sabotaged Gens will need to be “recharged” before they can be repaired. Sabotaged locker doors and chests are stuck and have to jimmied open, with a short sound cue after they’re unjammed. It takes forty seconds to sabotage a gen, and four seconds to jam chests and lockers.

- She’s the only killer unable to break a pallet. However, while in a chase she can jump over pallets. Outside of a chase she can lift up a pallet back in place and sabotage them as well, making it so that survivors have to do the pull down action twice to drop the pallet.

Her main weapon is a Butcher’s Knife, the tip had been broken off in her attempt to spill the blood of her kin.

Ace Visconti (The Misfortune) - Ace Visconti, was a foolish as he was confident. Too many debts with the wrong kind of people were bound to catch up to him eventually. One bet, involving some underground fighting ring, sealed his fate. He ran, and made it pretty far before the goons came to collect. What meager winnings he had on him weren’t enough, so their boss ordered them to make an example out of Ace. So they cut him into pieces, wrapped them up in plastic wrap, and dumped them all into a murky swamp. As they held him down he made one final desperate deal, the goons didn’t buy it but something did in fact take him up on the offer. The goons stuck around the swamp for a smoke break, and went missing soon after. A police investigation ten years later would lead to the swamp being drained, all the bodies found at the bottom would help send a dangerous man to the big house. Ace Visconti’s body was never found, but the goons were. Drowned in the murky waters by the looks of it.

Ace wear his water damaged, and muddy clothing, with plastic wrap obscuring his entire head. Duct tape is wrapped around some parts of his body to prevent him from falling to pieces. He lacks shoes but wears a ridiculous amount of jewelry, perhaps collected off his fellow victims in the swamp’ s depths?

His Power is called Unlucky Deck, cards that he uses as offerings for bonuses in the entity’s game. All cards are randomly generated, and more cards can be found in chests,. The Misfortune is the only killer who can loot chests but he closes them after use, he cannot use chests search by survivors without add-ons. Add-ons can increase his chances to get a certain type of card. The killer can shuffle his deck to look at his other cards, when a card is chosen he will pick it out of his deck and it will instantly burn away into ash. His deck consists of the following:

Ten of Clubs - If any of the crows are disturbed, they will flock to the survivor and follow them for ten seconds. This lasts for 30 seconds.

Jack of Clubs - The aura of survivors opening chests or lockers will be revealed for 6 seconds. This will last for 30 seconds.

Queen of Clubs - Once used, after hitting a survivor with a base attack all survivors in your terror radius will have their auras revealed for 8 seconds. This will continue until all survivors still in the game are hit at least once.

King of Clubs - When a Generator is completed after this card is used, all survivors will gain the Exposed status for 20 seconds, and their auras are revealed for 4 seconds.

Ace of Clubs(Incredibly Rare) - All survivors auras are revealed for twenty seconds regardless of distance, however the killer’s movement speed is slowed for the duration of this card’s use.

Joker Card(Tremendously Rare) - A random affliction of another card is played, lasting for thirty to forty seconds regardless of the original time limits.

The Misfortune’s main weapon is a Bloody Saw, used to make an example of him and later thrown into the water as evidence.

Bill Overbeck (The Carrier) - Left behind, left to rot. When the entity found him it knew just the way to “fix” him, after all, he was already a carrier. Becoming one of the creatures he had tried his damnedest to evade. Very similar to a Smoker(Type of Special Infected), with the bloated skin and a gross, long tongue. However his lumpy skin would be a charred black with cracks that glow like the claws of the entity(also makes his skin look like the black lungs of a cigarette smoker). When hit by a pallet or a decisive strike he will emit smoke. He no longer sees survivors the same way he used to, and now hunts them without restraint. This is due to the entity skewing his perception, making all the survivors resemble infected that attempt to escape to spread their disease, with dark thoughts urging Bill to prevent them from getting out alive.

His Power would be Ensnaring Tongue, an ability he shares with other smokers. He shoots out his elongated tongue straight forward to choke a survivor in place. Hitting the survivor or the survivor managing to wiggle out(similar to escaping a beartrap) will break the connection, resulting in tongue being torn off and a small cooldown for his ability to regrow it. A secondary ability is that survivors will cough in close proximity, and will continue coughing for a few moments even after gaining distance.

His weapon would be a combat knife, a memento of his younger years.

Feng Min (The Patient) - Taking inspiration from the controversial Dr. Yang Yongxin(Chinese Clinical Psychiatrist that likely inspired the Spark of Madness chapter), in a timeline where Feng Min is taken to a “Gamin Addiction Treatment Center“, where her parents handed her over to the “good doctors”. The head doctor’s experiments in curing their patients came crashing down when, after the electroshock treatment became to much, Feng proceeded to escape and murder the staff. She would wear the hospital gown she was given for her stay and would still be connected to electroshock equipment. Her face is heavily bandaged, and a syringe is stuck in her neck. The only hit the main doctor got in before he was snuffed out. Her Power would be similar to the Carter’s Spark, Remnants of Rewiring, driving survivors exhausted to the point of self-destruction. She afflicts survivors by creating an electric pulse that flows in a straight wave, that extends for several feet in front of her. When affected their progress may go backwards, either destroying any progress they had made before or not even getting far in the first place. Maybe at the highest tier of her pulse ability, Survivors might go into a “drowsy state” where they will have to do a skill check or two to not fall asleep, this leaves them open for attack but if the survivor falls asleep and is woken by a survivor/killer they return to tier 2. They would need to escape The Patient and “relax” to lessen the effects.

Her weapon is a chipped baton, ripped out of the hands of her main watch guard as he bled out.

David King (The Boar) - David King was meant for greatness, in this life or the next. He squandered his success, all in his search for a good fight. While out drinking he met a shady man who took interest in his fighting prowess, and offered him an experience even more thrilling than his less-than-legal underground tournaments. Two men go in, one comes out, gladiator style. It took David one night to agree. He grew notorious in the underworld fighting circuit, wealthy spectators paid extra to watch King’s own unique style of brutality. He was a bloody mess, and his victims were worse off in every aspect. His “Manager” gave him a unique reward, a boar’s skin, said it would liven up the crowd if they saw David wearing it. David couldn’t give a shit if he tried, as long as he got good competition.

He was soon more animal than man, taking extra measures to make the losers “squeal” for his own personal pleasure. He soon disappeared abruptly, his manager admitted that David King simply left and never came back. Sure, King was his best fighter, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to order the beast around.

The Boar’s Power is Beastly Brutality, when a survivor is downed the brutish man will grab their leg and break it, applying the Fractured Status effect. Until healed the afflicted survivor will be slowed and unable to vault, They will also grown audibly. If the Fractured status effect is reapplied, the grunting is less frequent, until it’s barely noticeable the next time it’s applied(The Boar’s base speed would be similar to the Huntress’ to give the survivors a fighting chance). There is also a “Struggling” action where the survivor can try to pull away from David until he gives up and carries you or wins. His secondary ability can be used after every two hits with his base weapon, where he tosses the Pig Skinner to his other hand and strikes a survivor with his balled fist after gaining a short speed burst. This will distort the survivor’s vision and make their ears ring.

He wields “The Pig Skinner”, a cleaver with a broad blade and long handle. Of all the weapons he used to mutilate his opponents, this one was his favorite, besides his own hands of course.

Quentin Smith (The Sandman) - Forever haunted by endless nightmares he set out to do the impossible by avoiding sleep all together, slowly destroying himself in futile attempts to avoid the necessary part of human life. His parents were forced to admit him to a hospital when it began to make a toll on his health, where he met familiar faces(whether he remembered them fully or not) with similar problems. When a friend took his life in front them all, he broke, and set out to escape. In a desperate attempt to “save” Nancy, the only one who believed him about the “darkness“, as well he proceeded to murder the staff that tried to restrain him. He escaped into the surrounding woods, vowing to return for Nancy. When the entity collects him he desperately searches the realms for her, hoping to save his fellow victim in this life now that he had failed in the other.

He’s severely sickly from sleep deprivation, and his eyes are permanently closed, this does not affect his eye sight. He wears the clothing the hospital provided, with noticeable burn marks leaving holes in them. His Power would be Dreamwalker, when used the survivors will experience “Micronaps” slipping into the dreamworld where the Sandman may harm them. The Sandman can only interact with survivors doing “Skill“ actions, such as healing and gen fixing, afflicting them with “Fatigue”. They are now on a timer until they “rejuvenate” themselves with a health kit(by healing to full health), every ten seconds they will enter a Micronap for ten seconds, in a continuous loop until fatigue is lifted. The Sandman can attack during the entire time you are in fatigue but is invisible outside of Micronaps, only his red stain reveals his location during these brief moments.

His main weapon is a fire axe, meant to be used for emergencies but stolen in his escape.

David Tapp (The Detective) - (The Following is based on the first Saw Videogame, where Tapp had to travel through an asylum until being given a choice at the end of the game. He could’ve chosen “Freedom”, the canon ending where he gave up his search for Jigsaw and freed all occupants of the Asylum. Or the alternate ending, which I’m following for this au, where his obsession makes him choose “Truth” which results in the death of an innocent.)

His choices made him who he is, in his obsession he had cost the deaths of many. He was as equally guilty as jigsaw, and the mastermind took advantage of this fact. Detective Tapp died that day, and whatever was left took up the dying man’s offer to join him. As an officer, he knew who deserved punishment, and became another valuable asset of Joh Kramer. During one kidnapping, where he accidently killed a victim before they could be tested, he vanished. Jigsaw was disappointed, but not surprised, he had already lost another disciple before and there were always more who could be taught.

He wears his old uniform, the bullet proof vest provides better protection than the red robes his coworkers wear. A pig mask, modified by a wire frame under the latex to give it structure. Leather straps ensure it stays in place without obscuring his vision.

The Detective’s Power is called Night Watch, he carries a large flashlight that acts as his secondary weapon. When using it, any survivor that is caught in it’ s light will be stunned for 2 seconds and have their aura highlighted in yellow for 30 seconds. The flashlight can charged to flash brightly, this blinds the Detective for a few seconds but any survivor who sees the flash will be put into the exposed state for 16 seconds. The flashlight works as long as it’s beam is in the survivors line of sight, ie. like how flashlights work for killers.

His main weapon is a Modified Bat, nails have been driven into it to increase the damage it can cause. What was once evidence is now his tool to free his victims.

Kate Denson (The Siren) - One must always be weary of the dangers of travelling alone, who knows what kind of people you could meet. Men who can’t take a hint, who do not like to be told no. It was not her fault, she simply wanted a quiet place to write. The woods nearby reminded her of home, but one must always be careful when wandering away from civilization. The man from yesterday still hadn’t let it go, this time he brought along friends to convince her. She was a fighter, but they played dirty, so she had to run when she spotted a window of opportunity. One of the men stopped her easily, and she fell as her guitar splintered into several pieces over her head. They had killed her, or so they thought. They were prepared to leave her in the river to be swept away, but she woke up kicking and screaming, they would be caught if anyone heard her voice so they silenced her with a nearby rock.

Kate Denson was reported missing after she ceased all contact with her family, her Chevy was later found abandoned in the woods. The law enforcement already had enough on their hands though, in only three days several bodies had been found in the river. There were no sign of struggle, it was as if these men jumped into the waters by choice. Anyone passing these woods would swear they heard singing from deep within, but no one had ever been brave enough to look for the source of such a beautiful voice.

Her Power is Song of Remorse, a mournful song that entrances survivors into letting their guard down. If survivors are in the radius of her song they will be “Enchanted”. Similar to madness, it applies different effects as it’s tiers increase. Survivors can snap enchanted teammates out of it, or they can “clear their thoughts”. Clearing thoughts will make the survivor’s vision blurry for 5 seconds.

Enchantment Tier One - An image of the Siren’s face will flash on screen for a second, darkening the screen for a moment until the image fades away. This will happen every 20 seconds. A quiet humming will be heard for 2 seconds after these flashes occur.

Enchantment Tier Two - Whenever a Survivor attempts to drop a pallet there will be a chance that they do the action without actually pulling it down. The flashes will now occur every 10 seconds. Quiet humming can be heard for as long as the survivor is in this tier.

Enchantment Tier Three - Nonsense singing fills the survivor’ s ears, obscuring all other noises. Survivors can no longer heal, drop pallets, or fix gens. All flashlights will point downwards.

Her main weapon is the Driftwood club, her prized guitar now acts as the handle of her makeshift weapon. Driftwood, old rope, and what remained of her guitar have been crafted together to ensure only the most devastating of blows.

Adam Francis (The Ember) - It’s difficult to break such a disciplined man, but not impossible. The crash left him in shambles, but the person he failed to safe was left as a smear. He refused to die, dragging his legless body even as flames began to spread. For the first time in his life he displayed weakness, and allowed himself to feel fear. Death, the ultimate end, or at least so he thought. Something dark loomed above him, dark whispers making offers. Even as he bled out, he chose to think of others. He had a feeling that whatever deal he made, it would not end well, the last hope he ever had was that that young woman he failed was saved. He closed his eyes as flames devoured him, dark tendrils dragging him away.

When he awoke, he’d find a fire contained in his own body, now a hollow shell of the man he used to be. Lacking legs he instead floats in place, he breaks pallets by striking them with his weapon.

The dutiful Ember uses his Power, The Onibi’s Lament, as a way to close the distance between him and far away survivors. Activating his power makes a small orb of fire containing his soul shoot out of his corpse’s midsection. His corpse stays behind as a husk, with the player now controlling the orb to bypass pallets and quickly search for survivors for a short period of time. When the power is stopped, either by cancellation or the power bar going empty, his husk disappears and he silently “reforms” from the ball of fire. As a ball of fire he can harm a survivor once by running into them, but this automatically cancels the power and the “reforming” takes a few seconds to finish(think of Wraith’s uncloaking). His secondary ability is releasing a harmless decoy Onibi, to fool survivors into thinking he’s a harmless husk. The false orb goes in a straight line until it either hits something or fizzles out.

His main weapon is the Steel Shrapnel, a jagged piece of metal from the train wreck that had embedded itself in his arm.

Jeff Johansen (The Unseeing) - Losing one’s sight is a horrifying experience, especially for an artist. One fight and he was forever changed, his shyness promptly became a need to isolate himself. Even though he attempted to adapt to his new life, dark whispers in the back of his mind never allowed him to forget what he lost. He began to dream, and as if guided by invisible hands, he began to sketch what haunted him in his mind. A dark mass of unknown shape, with hundreds of arms reaching out in search of something. He created several drawings, greatly worrying his mother. Jeff left home without a word, and seemingly fell off the earth’s radar. A series of murders began, a bloody trail from Winkler to Ormond, nicknamed the Mural Murders due to what the police assumed was the killer’s calling card. A mural, in blood, paint, or other materials, depicting a many armed creature could be found on any wall or flat surface near the bodies. The trail went cold and the murders were left unsolved.

Jeff as a killer looks similar to his Heavy Metal skin, though his clothing is covered in numerous paint stains. His eyes have been touched by the entity, making him more vulnerable to flashlights.

The Unseeing’s Power is called All-Seeing Entity, a gift from the entity that allows him to hunt and steal the sight of survivors. The Unseeing will always see the maps as a pitch black abyss, all surrounding items in his terror radius are highlighted by a white glow. Aka, this is how he can find survivors while physically blind. Holding down his power bottom will make him release a harsh yell, any survivor caught in the yell’s radius will be cursed with “Dying Sight”. A two minute time will begin, the survivor’s vision will slowly be consumed by darkness until they are fully blind by the time the timer runs out. Once blind they cannot see at all until they’re downed, which restarts the timer. Survivors can cure their Dying Sight by finding a fellow survivor and being healed to a completely healthy state by them, Dying Sight is not affected by Self-Care or medkits.

His main weapon is a sledgehammer, a tool with a surprising use in his art. It reshapes rigid materials to his liking.

Jane Romero (The Idol) - No matter how influential you get, or how famous you become, nothing will drag you out of the pit of your own creation. Stress builds, expectations become increasingly more difficult to meet, and sleep becomes a rare luxury. It all builds up, until one final straw breaks your back. Did Loretta Lawrence expect to die, by the hands of a daughter she declared not hers? Envy fuels hatred, and when all you see is red, what’s a little blood gonna do? Jane wears her mother’s dress, the beautiful gown she wore for the interview that led to her demise. When Loretta’s body was found in her dressing room, everyone searched for Jane, it was as if she vanished. Many of her loyal fans refused to believe she’d done it, leading to an increase in sales for Jane Romero sponsored products.

Her Power is called Shattered Reflection, giving her the ability to leave behind copies of herself while the true body went on the prowl. She can create a total of five "Reflections" without add-ons, if she creates a new reflection after using them all up, the oldest made reflection will disappear. Survivors with flashlights can destroy copies, however it’ll take about 10 seconds. Reflections have a simple AI that allows them to move around a bit like an NPC, if a survivor is close enough they can strike once. If they land a hit the survivor goes down one health state and the reflection disappears. Each reflection has a small terror radius. The idol will receive a notification when a reflection is destroyed, a survivor is in a reflection’s small terror radius, and if the reflection lands a hit on a survivor. The survivor’s auras are highlighted for 6 seconds.

Her main weapon is a Glass Shard, a piece collected after she smashed a mirror in frustration. It’s size and shape ensure damage equal to a knife.

Notes

- David’s Boar Skin is based of the Greek Erymanthian Boar

- Dwight is similar to the ghosts in Silent hill 4

- At least two of these powers were inspired by a DBD clone called Soul at Stake

- I tried my best to make each power fair and interesting, but I guess it’s up to your opinion to know if I succeeded

- My favorite concepts are Ace, Adam, and Quentin’s

- Ace’s backstory was inspired by a character in the movie “13 Ghosts”

- Yes there are Survivor Versions of the killers

- If it’s not clear, Adam wished to save Rin Yamaoka after failing to save her in this au. You can probably guess how the entity “saved” her

- Asks me questions about this au if you like, there’s a bunch of details I left out because it was already long as is

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd au #deceased at sunrise aus #this post contains all survivors from Dwight to Jane #too many to list #killer au

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buckyscrystalqueen · 5 years

Text

The Unexpected Protector: Part 4

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Abuse, SEVERE Domestic Violence THIS PART.

Word Count: 4,237

A/N: HEED THE WARNINGS!!!!!! DON’T COME CRYING IF YOU DON’T!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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

“So let me ask you something.” You said to Negan the next morning as he made you breakfast. You glanced up at him over the newspaper you were reading and he hummed and nodded. “Are we officially dating?” His brow furrowed as he looked up to watch you fold the news paper in half. “Because we made page six as a couple.”

“What?” He laughed as he set down the oven mitt and tray of food and reached out for the newspaper. “UES bombshell, pictured above with new beau, arrested for grand theft yesterday… Fuck, I don’t even get named?”

“Do you really want to be named?” You teased as you took back the newspaper and his glasses so he could cut the three meat and three cheese quiche he made.

“Not if your bad name is going to ruin my fucking spotless reputation.” You rolled your eyes as you folded the page in half to finish reading after breakfast.

“Haha, dick. You’re so funny.” He smiled as he served up two large helpings of quiche and passed you the two plates so he could cut up and cool down a small bit to mix in with Chewie’s dog food.

“Well if it’s written in fucking page six it must be true.” He responded as he glanced down at the four legged food whore that had been sitting patiently at his heels, staring up at him. When you didn’t say anything, he looked back up at you with a shrug. “Do you want to be official, baby girl? That what you’re fuckin’ gettin’ at.” You smiled and playfully bit your bottom lip.

“I mean, you’d be dating a bad girl.” He laughed loudly on his way over to the pantry to grab Chewie’s food container and bowl.

“Oh, baby girl. You’re just too fucking cute sometimes.” You smiled proudly and sat up a little straighter in your chair as Chewie started to yip excitedly for his meal while jumping against his legs.

“You love it.”

“Chewbacca, chill.” Negan laughed as he poured half a scoop of food in the bowl and mixed in the small bit of food before setting it on the floor. He shook his head and came around to enjoy his breakfast with a sigh. “You want to be official, baby girl?”

“More than anything.” He nodded his head as he turned your chair toward him. Very gently, he slid his large hands between your knees to push them apart so he could stand between your legs.

“Then we’ll be official. Since we gotta go and fucking say it out loud like we’re a couple’a fucking horny teenagers.” You scowled and playfully flicked his chest as he slid his hands up your thighs to your hips. “We gotta seal it with an official first kiss, too.”

“You’re an ass.” You mumbled as you reached up to cup his jaw in your hands.

“Hey, I’m just being fucking thorough, here.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head subtly as you pulled his face closer to capture his lips with yours. You instantly melted into the plush softness of his lips and moved your hands so you could wrap your arms around his neck. As he deepened the kiss, he pulled your hips forward until your core was flush with his half hard cock. You moaned softly and tangled your fingers in his soft grey dappled brown hair. With a gentle pull, his length twitched against you, and caused both of you to groan.

“Oh! Sorry! So sorry!” Mary exclaimed, forcing you and Negan to pull away from each other.

“Sorry, Mare.” You said to the woman with an embarrassed smile. “We’re just starting breakfast. Think you could start upstairs with the living room today?” She nodded her head as she looked anywhere else but at you.

“Of course, ma’am.” You said thanks and nodded at her retreating back as Negan turned your chair back toward the bar.

“Way to go, bad girl.” He growled as he tried to subtly adjust himself before sitting down.

“Your fault.” You said as you ran your fingers through your hair and started in on your slightly room temperature meal.

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

“Hey, sorry to bother you so late.” Nathan said. You nodded and paused the movie you were watching alone in the basement at a little after twelve-thirty with a smile.

“I wasn’t asleep.” You told him as you sat up straight on the plush couch you had been laying across. “What’s going on?”

“He signed the papers.” You let out a squeal of joy and kicked your feet on the leather.

“Thank fucking God, it’s over.”

“I’ve actually got them with me and I’m pulling up Park now. Figured I’d drop them off in your mailbox…”

“No, I’ll come up.” You said as you pushed yourself up off the couch and headed toward the stairs. “Take a look at them just to make sure he didn’t accidentally on purpose forget a page.”

“Alright. I’ll just pull up to the curb. See you in a second.” You nodded your head and headed toward the front door with a small jump in your step.

“Chewie, stay.” You said as you unlocked the three locks, turned off the alarm, and dipped outside. You habitually locked the middle of the three locks with your phone before heading up the stairs to Nathan’s waiting car.

“What made you bring them by so late?” You asked as your lawyer got out of his taxi and handed you the file.

“I’ve got a murder case I’ve been working on for the past two weeks. They got faxed to me this afternoon but I was just too busy to stop for a second to call you.” You nodded your head as you checked every single page to make sure every page was signed, and once you were satisfied, you flipped the packet closed and stuck it back in the manilla envelope.

“Thank you.” You breathed. “Did you file them already?”

“My assistant did this afternoon for me. I just figured you’d want a copy for your meticulous records.” You smiled and held up the envelop as you turned back to the door.

“Hey, you guys always thought I was crazy for keeping receipts and shit. Not so crazy now, am I?” He chuckled weakly and shook his head as he got back in his cab.

“See you ‘round, (Y/N).” He called out through the open cab window. “And I’m really sorry for this.” Your brow furrowed and you turned around just in time to watch Christian swing his work baton into the side of your left kneecap. Your pain-filled scream was almost instantly muted when the thick back end of it was thrust into the side of your face. You knew your jaw was broken the second you tried to scream for help and you barely had enough time to cover your head as you hit the stone ground to partially protect your face from the kick he delivered next.

Pain unlike anything you had ever felt before shot through your body in blinding white waves as your ex-husband delivered blow after blow with his fists, feet, and baton. You repeatedly gargled ‘please’ through the blood pooling in your mouth as Chewie barked frantically behind your front door. You had a brief thought that you should have forced Negan to stay the night instead of letting him head up to his house, but the thought was instantly and literally kicked from your head.

“Fucking bitch.” He growled as he sent one more strong kick to your stomach. “I fucking warned you not to fuck with me.” He grabbed you by the arm, not caring how much he twisted it, and dragged you over to the short wall beside your stairs behind a row of privacy bushes. You whined pathetically and your head spun violently, causing you to throw up blood on the pavement in front of you. You heard the front hose turn on and the sound of water spraying across the stone and you realized that Christian was actually leaving you to die.

“Divorce that, bitch.” He snapped as he tossed the hose away and ran from your front door. Tears spilled slowly from your swollen shut eyes and you honestly believed every bone in your body was broken. You couldn’t even try to get up off the pavement. You tried to call for help but all that came out was a garbled, wet gasp that caused you to get sick once more.

‘I’m sorry, Negan.’ You thought as you gave up any and all will to fight for your life. You allowed yourself to fall into the darkness that was quickly enveloping your mind with a choked, watery gasp. ‘I love you.’

——

Negan woke up from a dead sleep at nearly three in the morning, filled with an indescribable dread. He glanced over at the clock and his brow furrowed when he saw his cell phone blinking with a voicemail from you. He grabbed his phone and ripped it off the charger at the same time he put his password in and pulled up the voicemail.

“…e’… n…” You horsed in his ear and the sound of your wet voice made his blood run cold. “…..e’…” The voicemail ended and he lurched to his feet as he dialed your number back.

“Come on, baby. Pick up the fucking phone.” He growled to himself as he threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He swore loudly when the call hit voicemail and he ran down the stairs to his living room.

“Let’s fucking go.” He growled at his nighttime body guard, Mikey, as he punched the button to his elevator so hard, the glass panel behind it cracked.

“Boss?” Mikey asked as Negan dialed your number again and punched the elevator doors.

“Shut the fuck up!” He roared as he stepped into the elevator before the door had completely opened. He tapped his foot impatiently as he dialed your number over and over again, praying that he was just going to wake you up and not the alternative. He choose to drive and broke every speeding law known to man as he headed down the thirteen blocks between your two houses. He nearly rear ended the SUV of his security detail that was parked on the side of your house and jumped out of the car as Mikey looked on as confused as ever.

“You better hope to fuck I’m wrong!” He yelled as he jogged around the corner and headed down the stairs. Chewie continued to bark madly behind the door as he pulled his phone out of his pants pockets and unlocked the only lock you had locked before bed.

“Chewie! Get back here!” He yelled as the little Pomeranian squeezed his fluffy body in the crack of the doorway and took off across the front patio. In that moment, Negan’s worst fears became a reality he would never be able to unsee. “(Y/N)!”

——

You had no idea how long you had been out but you knew as you opened your eyes, your only option for survival was to fight. Despite the excruciating pain you were in, you began to thrash violently, praying that you could stop Christian from killing you.

“No! Hey, you’re OK.” Negan panicked as he lurched to his feet on your right side and tried to grab somewhere on your body that wasn’t bruised or bandaged. “You’re OK, I’m here. It’s Negan. I’m right here, baby girl.” Your frantic green eyes searched his blurry face as he put one hand on your casted left wrist and the other fingertips on your right shoulder. “It’s over. It’s fucking over, you’re safe now.” Tears welled in your eyes as they darted around the room in terror. “Baby girl, you can’t cry. Your jaw is wired shut so you won’t be able to breathe…”

“Chewie?” You muttered as best as you could.

“I got him. He’s right here.” Your eyes followed his movements as he reached down and grabbed your dog carrier. You pat the bed beside you with your brace covered right hand and shook your head when he tried to put the carrier down.

“No.” You said through the metal in your mouth as you pat the bed and tried to use your eyes to get him to take the whining dog out of the bag.

“OK.” He said after a moment as he realized what you wanted. “OK. I got you.” You nodded your head and watched like a hawk as he lifted your fur child out of the bag and stuck him right next to your right hip. “Just for a bit.” You nodded slowly as Chewie instantly crawled on his belly carefully up the bed so that his nose was nearly in your arm pit. You scooted your arm to push him to your side, causing you to wince in pain.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Negan said as he sat back down and gently took ahold of the fingers you were wagging at him. Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned forward and kissed your fingertips as if he was going to break you even more when he did. “It’s OK. It’s all going to be OK.” You squeezed his hand as hard as you physically could as tears spilled softly from your swollen eyes onto your bruised and heavily battered cheeks.

“Christian.” You tried to tell him. He nodded and kissed your fingers again.

“I saw the fucking security video.” He growled with malice in his tone. “He’ll fucking get his. Don’t worry.” You nodded your head softly and closed your eyes so that sleep could take you away from the pain once more.

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

‘I wanna go home.’ You turned the dry erase board you had been given to communicate toward the door before Negan had even stepped into the room and you had your good hand over the bottom half of the board with your counter to what he was going to say. He looked away from getting your overnight update from Tank, who was now on 24/7 guard duty when Negan wasn’t with you and paused in the room as Chewie wiggled to get to his mommy.

“Baby…”

‘Home, Negan!’ He chuckled as he shut the hospital room door closed behind him.

“You’re too smart for your own good.” You nodded your head slowly so you wouldn’t make yourself sick from your concussion. You turned the board back around and used your wrist brace to wipe your message clean.

‘Please? I’ll hire nurses and stay in bed.’ He looked over your shoulder as you wrote while Chewie found his spot between your casted right ankle and braced left knee and laid down contently.

“Yea because you can get out of bed without someone’s help.” You paused mid-erase and glared up at him. “OK, OK. I fucking take it back.” He chuckled as he sat down on the chair beside you he had basically lived in for the past week since he found you.

“Please.” You grit out as you tried to make your already pathetic looking face even more pathetic. “Please.”

“Stop that.” He said with a small chuckle. “(Y/N), you had like twenty different surgeries in the last fucking week…”

‘So?’

“… you only have one working limb…” You scowled slightly and tapped the marker against the board as Negan continued right over your racket. “… and if I take you home, you’re either gunna be more fucking bored there than you are here and you’re gunna be mad at me for being the person that has to fucking micromanage your ass.” You flipped the board around and wrote fast as Negan sat back and gave you time to respond.

‘I can’t sleep here. I need you. Please, baby. Please bring me home.’ You spun the board toward him and tears welled in your eyes. He took one look at you and you could see your success in his eyes.

“Damn it, baby girl.” You smiled, awkwardly and spun the board to write out your next idea.

‘Move in with me. Permanently.’ He smirked as he stood and read over your shoulder.

“Pretty fucking sure that agreeing to take care of you for the next however many fucking months is going to guaren-fucking-tee that, baby girl.”

‘All part of my master plan.’ You glanced up at him as he chuckled.

“Yea, I don’t fucking doubt that. Alright, I’ll go get the damn paperwork. Chewie, stay with mommy.” Your dog perked up and looked over at the sound of his name as Negan pulled open the room door. “We’re fucking taking her home. You’re moving in, too. And get on the phone with Gretchen. We’re gunna fucking need nurses.”

——

“Alright baby girl.” Negan said gently as he walked in to your bedroom with a very curly haired woman that was right around your age later that afternoon. “This is my kid sister, Gretchen. She’s gunna help me help you out. She’s an RN at the hospital and she’s been working as an RN for the past 8 years. I trust her, OK?” You nodded your head and looked at the woman who smiled broadly.

“It’s so nice ta finally meet ya, (Y/N).” She said in a slightly squeaky, high pitched voice that absolutely didn’t match her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

‘Nice 2 meet u 2.’ She smiled and took a step toward the bed but Chewie was having none of it. He raced out from between your legs on your king-sized bed and started yipping wildly, causing Gretchen to take a step back.

“This is Chewie.” Negan chuckled as he walked in front of his sister and picked up your dog. “He’s usually all bark but after what his mommy went through, I’d be fucking careful. (Y/N) talks to him like he’s a person. Treat him with the same damn respect, Gretchie.” She nodded her head and slowly offered the back of her hand for Chewie to smell.

“Absolutely.” She said with a nod as she looked up at you. “He’s a cutie.” You nodded and mumbled ‘thanks’ as Negan put Chewie back down on the bed.

“I’m gunna show her the kitchen and the second floor, baby. Jade’s gunna swing by after she gets off work. And other than the kitchen, living room, and this floor, the rest of the house is off limits, right?” He confirmed with you and informed his sister at the same time. You nodded your head and snapped your fingers so he would wait a second. He walked over to you to see what you needed as you scribbled quickly.

‘Smoothie & meds, plz. Water?’

“You got it, baby. Can you wait twenty minutes for it?” You nodded as he grabbed the empty water jug from the hospital and the remote for your TV and put the latter on your lap. “Alright, give me a bit, baby girl.”

“Nice to meet you.” Gretchen said with a small wave as Negan kissed your forehead. You nodded your head at her and watched the pair of them head over to the elevator to go down stairs. As the gate closed behind them, you leaned back against the dozen pillows behind your back with a groaned sigh. You couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes and you really did try not to cry but in the safety of your home where no nurses were running in and out of your room every five minutes, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your whole body ached from the grand total of 15 broken and shattered bones, three hundred stitches that littered your body, and the stretched out, severely swollen, and heavily bruised skin that covered almost literally every inch of your body. As of that moment, your left hip and knee, and your left shoulder, arm, and hand had been nearly completely replaced with titanium pins, screws, rods, and sockets that were sure to leave permanent physical scars to go with the mental ones.

Your right side, which had hit the pavement, was not as badly damaged as the left, but you still had a broken ankle and two cracked ribs on that side… but then again, that was nothing compared to the five broken ribs on the left side, nor the puncture you had in your left lung that, had Negan not found you when he did, you would have died from. But you got fortunate again because the only other internal bleeding you had organ wise was from a minuscule tear in your spleen.

You tried to wrap your head around why this happened and why your lawyer, who had ben your lawyer before you even got married, would set you up for such a horrible fate. Your mind ran wild as you looked back at your entire marriage to see if there was any sort of indication that Christian was this dangerous but you came up empty. You couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so malicious because of a divorce. You also couldn’t figure out how this same person was the chief of the New York police department.

You didn’t realize that as your mind ran wild, you had began to hyperventilate until you had to figure out how to sit up a bit more to breathe without ripping stitches or disturbing your hip to much or making your ribs hurt even more. Chewie started to panic and jumped off the bed while making the most terrifying, screaming bark sound you had ever heard. You heard Negan call out your name from the floor below as you dropped your chin to your chest in hope that gravity would get the excess saliva and mucus out of your nose and mouth so that you could breathe again.

“Head up! Head up!” He yelled as he came running into the room and scrambled across the bed. “OK, it’s OK. We can do this.” He said with a nod as he gently lifted your chin to open your windpipe.

“Here.” Gretchen said softly as she grabbed a nose aspirator from the bag of stuff the hospital sent home with you and a small basin. “This is gunna feel really weird, sweetie but it’ll help.” You nodded frantically as you tried to suck in rattled breaths through your grit teeth which caused your chest to scream in pain and protest.

“Calm down, baby.” Negan said as he gently held your head so you couldn’t pull away. “You gotta fucking stay calm.”

“Don’t swear at her, Negan.” Gretchen snapped as she cleared your nose as best as she could. “She’s scared.”

“Gretchen, I swear to fuck…” You interrupted the siblings with a desperate whine as breathing finally started to get easier for you. “Alright, no more fighting.” He said with a nod as he brushed his thumb across your chin and ran his fingers through your hair.

“That better?” Gretchen asked as she sat back to look at you. “Just blink once for yes, two for no.” You closed your eyes for a long blink and opened them up wide so she would know that was your response. She smiled as she grabbed a few tissues and started to wipe off your face. “See, it’s weird but it’s so much better, isn’t it?” You blinked again as Negan moved his hand from under your chin. “Good. How’s about I go get your water for you? Then we try to get you to the bathroom before a nap, OK?”

“Her lunch smoothie is still in the fridge. And her pain meds.” Negan said as he kneeled beside you to adjust the pillows and lay you down. “There’s a big bag of shit on the counter…”

“I’ve got a weekly med container in my bag.” Gretchen said with a smile. “I’ll come in while you have lunch and put them all out so you can help me keep track of times as well, OK?” You blinked again as Negan slowly lowered you onto the pillows. With one more smile, she glanced at Negan and her eyes narrowed. “You be nice.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” He laughed as he put your white board back on your lap. You grabbed the marker and pushed off the top to write your message down.

‘I like her.’ You wrote as you looked up through your lashes at him.

“Of fucking course you do.” He chuckled as he turned on the TV and leaned back against the headboard beside you. “She’s a good girl; she’s the baby of us all. Three boys and Gretchie. I’m the oldest, then my brother Joey who you haven’t met yet. Then comes Jerry two toes. We gave him that nickname when he was born. His big toe and the pointer were fucking like fused together when he was born. It’s really, really fucking gross.” You let out a disgusted sound and looked over at him as he settled on HGTV for you and set the remote down between you. “Yea. Trust me. You didn’t have to grow up with that shit.”

‘Yuck’ He nodded in agreement as he sat back to watch TV with you for a bit until he had to help get you to the bathroom.

“It really was.”

Part 5

#Negan x Reader #The Unexpected Protector #Negan thirst squad #Negan's thirst squad

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