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gabbbyyyyyyyyyy · 2 months

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So called “Free thinkers” when there’s a bandwagon circulating around one of their favs

My take on Clock Tower / Glockenspiel headcanons!!

this man has me in an actual chokehold sorry not sorry

-Basic HCs

He/It

Clocktower/Anthro Clocktower robot

CANONICALLY 59 yrs old (going on 60 in may)

Voice HC: The Landlord (Oh!Super Milk chan- English/Americanized Dubs)

Height = 36’9 (36 ft 9 inches)

His personality can be summed up as being Sweet, fatherly, and calm—But can occasionally go overboard with his emotions, whether it be him acting too protective or sweet to the point of obsession, or going cuckoo (pun intended) over even the most minor of inconveniences. Everything else aside, he’s as sweet and smooth as honey, as long as everything is in moderation, he will be too.

-BATCH 1

This guy is basically the Timekeeper of the Wasteland, keeping track of certain dates and events in the wasteland, etc.!

Despite claiming that he knows the time, at any given moment, by heart (knowing his 50+ years of experience), little things, such as Daylight Savings time, may throw him off…and when he DOES get thrown off, he’d usually throw fits out of embarrassment.

There was once a time where the Small World ride was closed down (by Glockenspiel himself) for a whole week simply because he got the time wrong by 1 hour once (1) due to Daylight Savings… THAT IS HOW MUCH HE TAKES HIS JOB AS THE WASTELAND TIMEKEEPER SERIOUSLY.

As a nod to the OG Small World clock’s facade, and how it opens up to show the time—He has a chest crevice, which he can open up at given request, and show the time. Sadly, he can’t change the time by himself, and usually needs someone (usually a gremlin) to go and fix the time for him, when necessary (Time can be rearranged VIA differently shaped/sized Cogs inside said chest cavity

Both the cogs + The aforementioned chest cavity are incredibly sensitive, and even the slightest pains can throw the big guy off…

Also don’t tell him this… but the damned song that constantly plays on repeat in his daily life … actually comes from a Gramophone stored inside said chest cavity

-BATCH 2

Was actually still alive prior to the events of his boss fight (thinner/canon route), It just took like. Day or two before someone came and threw paint back on the poor guy

Still holds a grudge against Mickey after the maingame events, Despite the fact he’s practically required to just smile and wave at everyone willy nilly… here’s a visual demonstration

Has the memory of an elephant, once you do something to him, he (most of the time) remembers like it was yesterday… which isn’t too much of a good thing, given you know what

Drama Queen, very very big Drama Queen

Longlasting memory + Drama Queen = Hell no.

He can also recognize and perfectly memorize any face or object, so anyone who vandalizes the small world, or just any person thats worth seeing in a negative light, can be immediately recognized, and brought to justice

-BATCH 3 (+some Doll HCs)

Acts as a teacher/legal guardian figure to all of the dolls in the ride,

The dolls have Hivemind mentality, usually doing things in-sync and in unison, without rehearsal, as well as deciding how to act

Some times they’re pains in the ass to Glockenspiel, other times they usually help with certain chores and tasks, such as cleaning, getting certain things, etc.

Despite the fact the dolls resemble kids + have the mentalities of tweens, they’re extremely skilled and talented, even in tasks or activities that are normally considered hard, even for adults. But alas, the same cannot be said for their social skills, considering how their only real interaction is with eachother, and Glockenspiel

Though the dolls may cause some trouble or discomfort to Glockenspiel himself, any physical harm to them, from ANYONE (unless from another doll, without extremely malicious intent). Will set him off, no matter how bad the doll in question was behaving

If anything, if you break ANYTHING in the small world attraction, he will literally go over there and smack the Hickory Dickory FUCK out of you

Please note that Glockenspiel isn’t strict in the slightest, so you need to do something BAAAD to set him off like that.

The dolls carry information from the outside world, such as different cultures, fashion senses, food, etc.

As taken from a friend, Glockenspiel can reflect his own emotions onto the Dolls, if dormant, the dolls will act as normal, But if Glockenspiel goes into thinner form, the dolls will either:

Go completely stationary, not dare make a peep whilst the Clock Tower works his “magic”

Will wreck havoc on whatever person Glockenspiel is agitated at, Especially if said person has come with the intent to harm Glockenspiel, or the Small world in general. Please note that these dolls are approximately (in headcanon) 6-7 feet tall, and weigh about 250.

-BATCH 4

Glockenspiel usually feeds off of Oil (as a coffee-like substance) , and literal Computer chips (as snack)

Despite this, he doesn’t mind indulging in human cuisine every hour or so every once in a while, even having grown a bit of a sweet tooth from it, as well as having the aforementioned dolls make little foods for him, even if it’s not always perfect, or… even if it’s even considered edible. (Not like he cares though… he’s a damn robot!)

Speaking of how Oil acts as a sort of “coffee” to him, he’s. Pretty much addicted to the point that the oil may be apart of him, given how he has to deal with the 200+ sentient dolls, timekeeping, sitting around doing NISH. Keeping the ride fine and dandy, and listening to the same dumb song on loop for over 50 years…yeah!!!

If he doesn’t get his frequent dosage of oil, he’s just gonna be bitchy bitch mcbitcherson for the whole day, many complaints were filed to the gremlins for that and the ride’s service hours got cut short because the bitchiness was getting too much

-BATCH 5 (backstory edition)

He was apparently popular in the outside/“mainstream” world back in the 80s, in which he looked extremely different, with his appearance resembling that of those punk/rock idols that catered to the rebellious teen generation

His appearance in the 80s was much more lively and had much more going on than the mellowed out old man we have today—though i have not drawn an actual design for it yet, it’s color palette is heavily similar to that of the Glockenspiel shown in the Epic Mickey comic “Clocktower Cleaners”, that + just being reminiscent to Hong Kong Small World

Was a massive pushy egotistical jerk back in the 80s, partied a lot (not a healthy amount for a 36 foot tall, 6 ton weighing Clock tower), typical “young and free” hooligan—way less soft and collected as he is today

Something happened one day that cut his fame short, possibly an accident at a party that caused him to get thrown off from the Mainstream world, and straight into the Wasteland, where he was forced to be on some googoo gaga weenie hut Jr. ass ride for the remainder of his time as a punishment for his recklessness

There were even rumors that have diffused to the Wastelands from the Outside world that they even went on to REPLACE Glockenspiel with somebody else…it doesn’t bother him as much, but it’s definitely worth noting

-BATCH 6 (more physical stuff)

Despite all laws of physics, regarding the texture and form of metal, wood, and all things that create a mechanism such as himself…. He is squishy.

Specifically on the face (considering one of his attack animations in his boss fight), and certain bodily areas. Though this shouldn’t, and can’t be possible… it is… very much so

Despite the latter, he is also somewhat soft on other areas of his body, especially due to a protective inner rubber layer on certain parts of his body, like his chest and limbs, you can’t feel it much considering it’s *inside* of his metal shell of a body, but it’s there

However, his stomach contradicts acts this, having the protective rubber layer outside of the body, given how he doesn’t have a shell on his stomach, but rather another, thicker rubber layer to replace it (making his stomach’s exterior just be two layers of rubber) making his midsection area, and his face, the squishiest parts of his body

His forms can also control the heat of himself + the environment around him, given his tremendous size

In Paint form, everything is at a comfortable, room temperature, and leaves the Clock tower being warm to the touch, especially on the facial area, given the fact that this man is literally competitious with the actual sun, given the fact that he’s just this big ball of artificial sunshine when he’s not being all moody

However, his Thinner form causes the environment around him to be uncomfortably cold, not in a “hoohoo chill breeze” way, but in a “Holy shit. Its cold. im gonna get sick out here” kind of cold, Any physical touch with this guy in thinner form feels like you just took him out a freezer, which may or may not feel worse when you’re getting absolutely crushed by this absolute mammoth of a man

It’s a rumor that if you hug, or squeeze him in a tight/forceful way, he’ll make one of those cartoon squeak noises (specifically the one in MLP)

-CRACK/MISC HEADCANONS

Allergic to dust, somehow (also canon?)

Probably caused an earthquake like 45 times now

Actually put a crack in the floor once because he tripped

Without his glasses, his sight is equal to that of a 144p video

Touch starved.

Actually very clumsy, the size doesn’t help at all…given the last few entries

His favorite “human” food so far is probably pavlova, specifically pavlova cake rolls. The dolls make that for him a lot

Somehow is able to decipher any. ANY given language, speak it, and even translate it under any circumstances

Lullabies are one of his strongest weakness

Lemme elaborate—There was once a time where the Gramophone in his chest got damaged, and they had to replace it with a music box (the ones used for lullabies), and ended up having to close the ride because this mf decided to go Night-night after about 30 minutes into opening hours

Adores anything considered soft by texture, especially fabric, in clothing or blankets

Developed insomnia from constant oil consumption

Will usually call people who wander into the ride “little one”, regardless of physical age, to him, everyone is small

Got turned into a human once and nearly made like. Half of the Wasteland faint

Shortly after he was turned human, the first thing he did was hug somebody. It did not go too well considering his physique

Lives with 3 other objects in the Small World, which take form of a Cloud, a Sun, and a Hot Air Balloon, which may get separate HC dump posts sometime soon (once i find out what to do with them)

Cracks a lot of Time puns. the dolls really don’t like them

#epic mickey clock tower #epic mickey clocktower #epic mickey #clocktower #clock tower #headcanons #headcanon dump #bandwagon

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fuck-customers · 9 months

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Had a doozy of a customer interaction today, tldr: Man throws an absolute fit because I was wearing a mask at work.

The last couple of days I've been wearing a mask at work because my sinuses have been going completely haywire and my nose has been dripping, and I'd prefer not to be seen in public with a runny nose, management doesn't care since I don't have any actual symptoms they worry about. Today I'm running cash like normal, it's pretty early on in the shift, so I'm still in a decent mood, and I ring out this guy's burrito. I give him his total in my customer service, very clear and easy to understand, and he then goes "What was that? I'm sorry it's hard to hear you with that mask." Since the pandemic started that phrase has been an instant cue for me to drop out of the friendly tone and into a slightly more annoyed tone, and try to get the customer out as soon as possible. I am naturally a loud person and literally none of the other customers I deal with when I mask up have an issue hearing me, this guy was just trying to open up a conversation about my mask, which is just a black mask with peppers on it that they gave me during the pandemic for my uniform. "So is that mask a political statement or are you just too sick to be working right now?" Not a question I had been expecting, but completely straight faced while getting his change I assure him that I am not sick, my sinuses are just acting up and didn't want to drip snot everywhere. "If you're sick, you really shouldn't be working." I once again tell him I'm not sick, and give him his change, and he then asks if there's a manager he can talk to. Thankfully my ace in the hole manager that loves to fight with custome seers was on duty today, and came up to deal with the guy, who was once again trying to insist I was obviously sick if I was wearing a mask and I shouldn't be working, and at that point I was in the back of house, away from the line of sight of customers, and explaining to the coworkers in the back who had missed it what was going on, and trying not to go up front and throw hands with this idiot. I didn't hear a lot of the conversation between my manager and the offended customer, but at some point he did try again to claim he couldn't hear me through my mask, and I just started basically yelling that he was full of it because the girl working the back line about ten feet away, who was definitely further away than that guy was, could hear me perfectly fine, and I think the manager told him he was just being discriminatory at that point, and he immediately accused her of using the race card. She had to explain to him that discrimination isn't just a race thing, (she was initially confused because I am white, so was this man, but she's black, and he apparently immediately associated the word with race?) and after that she asked him to leave, I think he wanted a refund for the inconvenience (this manager also has a tendency to throw out orders when she's about to refuse someone service to drive her point home, so that could also have been it), which she gave him, but he still told her to fuck off as he was leaving, and I think I heard something about us supporting left-wing propaganda as well, but I was busy pacing in the back of house and screeching in frustration. I thought that was going to be the end of it, but apparently the man was so offended he emailed in a complaint, and I had to confirm with a different manager that I was wearing my mask because of my allergies. I was frustrated about that man all day, and I've already decided the next time somebody asks about my mask like that I'm telling them I'm hideously disfigured and they're touching on a tender subject.

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #fuck retail #embarrassing #server problems #this is a text block and i apologize but screw that guy and his stupid problem with my mask #next time I'll just drip snot on his change

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gla55t33th · 2 months

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anymore angel vox? :3 how does he interact with other characters! /nf!

i am currently in Sketch Hell as i would describe it so ill be reblogging later when i can Draw but. Ramble under the cut

Firstoff i made the design because of a handful of fics which i read and stupidly forgot to save . Namely the one where he died for alastor, angelic interference, and the one where they made a fuckup on the books. (Ill get back when i find their names) . I just wanted to make the design for the sake of it and try to make his looks fit heaven and also my interpretation of vox, so hes intended to look almost like a character youd see on an old tv show but a bit more suave. I also wanted a space age head because i mean thats The Period of innovation and while there were certainly similar designs while he was alive its more symbolic of progress than actual progress. Then my brain started doing its thing and when i start thinking about anything for more than five seconds i get a bunch of pins and red string and become a full blown theorist who needs to connect everything to worldbuilding or ill die

so. I started a fic and if you find it you find it :]

ANYWAY! CLAPS MY HANDS

my angel vox.

Point the first! this isnt a vox goes straight to heaven, its canon divergence. Vox dies, goes to hell, and at the peak of his messy hell career he dies again and goes to heaven. Vox is not redeemed.

2. Vox is powerless. Heaven equalises people. It has rules, a lot of rules, and these are sown straight into their reality which cant be broken. He does however have free will and a silver tongue.

3. I think vox and sera would get along surprisingly well when it came to it. Sera is a 'tough love' sort of character, and does believe shes doing good in spite of it all, and is willing to do lesser evils. Vox cares about nothing but numbers and outcomes. This means that if they share a goal a lot of their approaches would also be shared, and i think theyd be fond of that.

4. Vox despises heaven. Just the fundamental concept of it. He does enjoy a struggle and he does enjoy pain, thats the point of being alive to him. Or well. dead. Its an uphill battle but its his uphill battle to fight. Also he just needs something to keep him occupied at all given times or he might just snap #adhd

4a. He also hates the residents, mostly because of very well earned trust issues how its not fun to talk to any of them. They just say whatever theyre thinking, no song and dance, no fine print, and vox loves fine print and searching for hidden meanings.

5. Emily is nice and almost tolerable but he would absolutely throw her off a bridge if it benefited him without second thought. He hates how much of a bleeding heart she is, but that seems to be a trait of everyone up there

6. Vox's relationship with himself is a complex mess. It always has been and heaven made it worse. Not only did it revert his body to how it was when he first fell but Angel Edition, hes barely mechanical anymore- and while being a good part machine was all part of hells punishment at the start for various psyche reasons (as well as how inconvenient it was) he had grown to worship and love his inorganic nature, and how much better it was than his faulty body . I have headcanons about that but that falls under spoiler territory for Said Fic. But heaven handing him back his flesh and blood is a massive massive violation of his boundaries and the moment he stops and actually starts thinking about what the hell has happened hes gonna break

7. The vees think vox is dead dead. Angel!vox would... have a strained relationship if he were to meet like that. On one hand, hes vox! Their vox! But like this he can't be his usual overlord self and while he trusts them enough to view them as friends, he wouldn't be able to face them as partners like this; business or otherwise. Hes horribly powerless and they need him on his A game.

8. Alastor (angel!vox punches the ground and eats drywall)

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #Vox #Does this make sense? WHO KNOWS! SLEEP DEPRIVED RAMBLINGS OF AN AUTIST

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buckyarchives · 1 year

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The Domestic Life Of Living With a Runaway Assassin [chapter one.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

summary: you hate many things in life. You hate soulmates. You hate the avengers. You hate guns. You hate lost snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can find yourself hating him

W.c: 6.9k

Author note: did not think this was going to actually get notes. I forgot how bad my wiring was back then and going through and rewriting all of it is just. Ugh. I’m too lazy.

masterlist

Today was going down as the most inconvenient day ever.

It was 10:30 pm, and you were sitting in some stupid coffee shop, the only one that had free Wi-Fii in your area because yours is down for the next 24 hours. The coffee tastes like shit because of-fucking-course it does. This place closes in 30 minutes and you have all that time to send in all your week's work to your boss, which is also due in 30 minutes. You weren't even going to think about the fact you spent all day having to listen to ongoing construction outside and having to run your roommate all around Queens to help her get comfy and organized at her dorm.

You wanted to kick someone, honestly.

As you tried your best to focus and very frantically type away at your keyboard. You were probably going to break your keyboard at some point tonight, either by typing too hard or just simply throwing it across the fucking room in a fit of rage.

A woman, maybe in her mid-30s – if it matters, walks up to you and reminds you that the place closes in half an hour and gives you a free, pity coffee. Probably noticing the growing under eyes bags or seeing you yawn into your hand every 7 minutes, give or take.

You had chugged the coffee and put everything you had into the next 20-something minutes and you sat back after your third look over everything to make sure you didn't miss any mistakes that could possibly get you fired. You were finally done and could go home.

Closing your laptop and packing your shit up, you wave to the lovely lady probably waiting for you to leave so she can close up. But because nothing goes your way and New York is just the most wonderful place to live, especially with the avengers. You don't make it out the door before you hear rapid gunfire rattle your ears and suddenly you’re ducking beneath the first table you find.

Your day could not get any worse, you thought.

Maybe you could have just crawled up in a ball and accepted your fate of being killed midst the 7th random gunfight of the month, you could even make it on the news! Nope, fate had other ideas and someone just has to save you.

Your ears filter out everything besides the sound of gunfire, glass shattering, and people screaming and yelling. It's too fucking late for this. A firm hand grabs yours and before you can get whisked away and snatch your bag because your life is worth risking for your laptop and books. You swear you got whiplash from how fast you moved away from the scene, only seeing a black blur of a human in front of you.

You regain your senses, most of them. After being pushed and crouched in a back alley behind the now-destroyed coffee shop, you hoped the lady was okay. catching your breath and hearing frantic shuffling next to you. A man, tall and built, dressed entirely in black with a plethora of weapons attached to his body. He glances at you for a moment and you think he looks familiar, maybe he was an Avenger. God, you hate the Avengers. His eyes continued to scan the dark area, before settling down next to you, eyes trained on one end of the ally.

He has a messy mop of a head, you can't really see his eyes clearly but you definitely notice the insane-Robert-Pattinson's-batman-amounts of black eyeshadow around his eyes. He has a black mask on too. Okay, so edgy Avengers. Haven't heard of him on the news yet. Like you even watch the news.

You must have been staring for a little too long and too hard because the mystery Avenger takes notice of it and his bushy eyebrows furrow at you, looking at you like you had personally offended him. Then, you notice his eyes and are a little, only a little, taken aback by their intense blueness and beauty of them. You barely notice what he says. “I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

You scoff. “I don't even know who you are.”

The emo Avenger freezes and looks at you with wide eyes like you grew two heads. Or you were the crazy one between the two of you. “What?” you question him and he mumbled and sputtered under the mask. You motion for the mask, telling him to take it off. And he slowly rips it off his face, his very pink lips are parted and he's breathing hard and fast.

“You.. what did you say, your words.”

Wait.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Your mouth falls open and you really want to kick something, or him. “You're my soulmate?” you said maybe a little too loud and it came out harsher than intended. He looks hurt by your tone and if it wasn't for the shock taking over your head, you would have felt bad.

Today is the most inconvenient and the worst day of your life.

“Wow doll, you're the first person I've met that sounds disappointed to find their soulmate.” you ignore his comment and especially ignore the nickname, hoping that wouldn't stick. You wanted to go the fuck home.

“Can I leave?”

Your soulmate narrowed his eyes at you. “No.”

“Why.” your eyes narrow back into his and just for a moment you realize you’re now in an impromptu staring contest with this man in some dirty back alley, hoping you don't get shot. “Listen, man, I have work tomorrow and I'd rather not get shot or dragged into some avengers bullshit.

He rolls his eyes, but you're not done. “I really don't like the Avengers. Seriously, you couldn't have chosen any other job? The number of cars I've seen the hulk throw and then miss–”

“I'm not an Avenger.” his bushy eyebrows furrow, plus the black war paint makes him look intimidating. If you weren't pissed, you might have been a little scared. Only a little.

“You really don't know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” you fire back. The ego of this guy!

He sputtered for a moment, “No, I guess not.”

your back hits the brick wall, sigh to yourself, and slump back down. You made yourself small. Now nursing a monstrous headache.

A frustrated grunt comes from the dark brunette. “Ok, ok, ok, ok… I'm going to walk you home.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he says, you just realize you don't know his name. “You said it yourself, you don't want to get shot. I’ll make sure that you don’t.”

You were really tired, letting people win wasn't something you did often. You'll make an exception. You huff and blow some stray hair away from your face. “What's your name?”

He pauses, “Bucky.”

“Well, Bucky.” you bring yourself to your feet. “You bring me safely home, quickly with no little side quest. That's it. And then you turn around and don't come back to my place.” you grab a hold of his hand to drag him along but you're met with cold, hard, metal. He flinches out of his skin, and metal. Your eyes travel up his arm.

“You’re an amputee?”

Bucky looks confused. “What?”

“Nevermind.” you shook your head and continued to drag him along to your apartment. You were so ready to go the fuck to bed. You hoped this walk home wasn't painful, but when do you get what you want?

Bucky was confused. Your pace matched his as you walked side by side to your apartment. The gentle wind brushed against his skin and flew through his brown locks. He was walking next to his soulmate. You were his soulmate and it seemed you wanted nothing to do with him.

Bucky knew very well he was way out of his time but he couldn't come up with a coherent answer to why. Was this new generation against the universe? Was this some weird trend? Unless you lied to him and did know who the winter soldier was, that would make sense. But, you seemed pretty persistent that you did, in fact, not know him (which the more he thought about it– he felt good that you didn't know). You must not read the paper, or watch the news. You thought he was a goddamn avenger!

He glances over to you, your lips. You were chewing on your bottom lip. It was painted red. You look beautiful with the dim yellow street light shining down on your face. “Don't do that.”

Bucky's voice is soft and gentle. He doesn't recognize it.

Your eyes trail to him. “Do what?” you ask

“That.” Bucky pauses in his spot on the sidewalk, takes a few steps towards you and he brings his flesh hand up to your mouth, slowly grazing his thumb across your split lip. “Don't chew so hard on your lip like that. I'm sure it hurts.”

Bucky's eyes are trained onto your lips, he doesn't dare look up at your eyes. But you are staring at him with widened eyes. You felt like you were on fire.

Too close. You pull away. “Okay, this is my apartment. Bye, Bucky.”

And just like that, you're quickly walking into your apartment lobby, you glance back at him and give Bucky a sincere smile before leaving his sights. Bucky stood there feeling like an idiot, completely forgetting any government or hydra issues he was dealing with earlier.

Bucky was going to walk away but his intrusive, no, protective – as he would describe it – thoughts took over. He jogged to the other side of the building, hoping he would be able to figure out which apartment you lived in without going too far. He saw a light turn on and noticed a figure walking by, your figure. This wasn't stalking, no. Bucky was just making sure you made it to your home, safe and sound, he was just looking out for his soulmate. As he should. So, not stalking. And maybe, if bucky only really needed it, he would remember that window so he could pay you a visit. Not stalking you, he just cares about you. For some reason.

Bucky can hear Steve calling him a punk in the back of his head. He missed steve.

On the other end, you dragged yourself into your apartment and dropped your bag the moment you reached your room. Not caring to clean yourself up you flopped on your bed, with a long and painful groan. You felt a small weight down on your bed and you turned your head to see our cat sitting down next to your head.

You smile and bring your hand to pet his head. “My savior. You are the only man I need.”

A soft purr vibrates from the felines, followed by a meow.

You sigh. “You're right. I need a shower.”

Your mind wandered in the shower, as the water trickled down your body you couldn't help but bring your hand to your shoulder blade. Your finger traced around the words on your back. Your lip tug at your bottom lip. You nibbled at the already raw skin. Don't do that. You could practically feel the warmth of his hand on your face as your mind flashes back to when he was standing so close to you just moments ago.

Bucky. There was no way you were going to let him haunt your head now. You turned the warm water off and grabbed your towel in annoyance. Drying yourself off and heading the fuck to bed. Praying that maybe when you wake up this whole day would be a dream. No soulmates, no getting shot at, and absolutely no getting flustered outside your apartment by someone you met an hour ago.

–

Bucky couldn't wait to see you again. He has been on the run from Hydra and Steve Rogers for too long; bucky had a hint on who would find him first. One night everything got to be too much. Parts of what hydra did to him are still very much a part of him, it was tearing him apart. It was getting harder and harder to diffrerencate what was bucky, the winter soldier, or this third feeling of pure absence of someone he didn’t know yet. He needed someone, anyone. He needed you.

You heard someone call for your name, they kept shaking you. You just wanted peaceful sleep goddamn it. You needed it. You rustled in your bed sheets, waving your hand at your roommate. She said your name again, and again, and again and ag–

“What!” you look over to see her, barely, in the dark of the room. “I'm trying to sleep!”

“There is someone in our living room.” she barely whispers.

Oh. “are you sure?” you squint at her. You don't know if she can even see you clearly enough.

“Yes.” another scared whisper.

What does a person around here have to do to get a full night's sleep for fuck sake?

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head. Pulling back the covers and throwing your phone at your roommate. “Call 911 if I scream or take longer than I should.” you grab the metal bat in the corner of your room.

The fucker that decided to rob you tonight picked the wrong house, knowing the amount of pent-up rage you had; you were sure you could knock out fucking Capitan America if you wanted. Just imagine your boss's face. You sigh, loud and hard footsteps echoed through your apartment. Rounding a corner and pulling the bat high up and–

Cling!

You braced for impact. You don't get it. You look up at whoever, whatever you hit. “You!”

You are angrier than you were when interrupted from your sleep. What is he doing here? In the middle of your living room, at least he's not wearing his stupid, edgy superhero get-up. Just normal clothing and a baseball cap, but you could see the outline of a gun through his jacket.

“Can you put the bat down?” Bucky’s holding the bat, stopping you from landing a hit to his head.

“No. what are you doing in my living room.”

His face scrunches. Pulling the bat down and yanking it from your hands. That fake arm of his was stronger than you expected. Bucky lets out a pained sigh, “I don't know but will you just listen to me and not hit me, please?”

You feel bad. “Maybe.”

Bucky looks at you and you swear he looks like he’s going to cry. The moonlight shining through your windows makes his face look sharper, defining his features more. You think maybe this is a dream because he looks really good. Bucky looks at you like you are his whole world, or maybe you will be someday soon. “I just…”

You’re quiet, you listening to him. Bucky realizes that maybe he will cry tonight. “I just need to talk to someone, anyone. Be with someone right now or… or…” he trails off, not wanting to think about what else could happen.

you feel terrible. “Do you not have someone else than a soulmate you've only known for an hour?” you joke, but he looks at you like it's definitely not a joke. Bucky's eyes are trained on the floor as he shakes his head.

His head jerks up when your roommate walks into the room. “Do I still call 911?”

“No!.” you and bucky yelled at the same time. Eyes snapping to each other after the syllable left your mouth, eyebrows furrowed and spite heavy on your face. Whilst Bucky looked one wrong move away from a nervous breakdown. Weird dude.

You motion to your roommate to tell her to go back to bed but before you can get any words out she’s shoving past you to get too bucky. “Wait.. are you... I’ve seen you on the news.” her hand raises to her face to cover her gaping mouth. Her eyes go wide and she suddenly looks like a ghost. “Oh, my god.”

What the fuck. “Seriously, jasmine go back to bed and stop gawking at my soulmate.”

She shouts your name like your mother would when you started cussing. “You are not serious. Do you know who this is.” her pointer finger goes towards bucky aggressively. Bucky looks panicked, you wonder why but based on this mood earlier; it was best to ask questions later. It was time to play dutiful soulmate.

“Look, jas.” you grab her by the shoulders. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Just go to bed, please?” you guide– no, drag her out of the room and give her a final nudge away, despite her weird shouts about a winter something. You couldn’t care to listen.

“I’m sorry about her. She gets paranoid.” you release a breath you forgot you were holding, followed by a plop of the couch. Bucky settles awkwardly next to you. “You really shouldn’t go breaking into people's houses, buck.”

Bucky gets whiplash at the nickname, his mind goes to Steve and suddenly he feels out of place. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, you barely hear him. “I should go, this was stupid.” Bucky goes to get up and head toward the fire escape again but you’re quick, grabbing his wrist. Bucky could have pulled away from you if he wanted, but he crumbled under your touch. Bucky holds his breath like he’s going to drown.

Bucky’s days kinda blend together. He likes routine, but there was no routine to have when you're doing what he does. You met him two weeks ago, it felt a lot more than that, or less. He couldn't tell but your touch made him feel like everything was so far away, he caught his breath for the first time in weeks.

Bucky thought about spilling it all out, his past, his everything. But that would defeat the purpose of coming here. That talk could wait. “I'm sorry that you got me as a soulmate.”

You smack your lips and scoff. “As your body should say– uh, somewhere.” you wave your hands dramatically, “I don't even know who you are. Nothing to be sorry for, yet.”

His lip quirks up. “Except scare your roommate half to death.”

“Maybe wouldn't have happened if you used the doors.” you smile at him, Bucky’s sure he wouldn't be able to see it without the soft light of the moon shining on your face. And maybe it's just his super soldier-enhanced senses, either way, he’s soaking it up like it's the only time he’ll ever see it.

“Doors aren’t really my thing.”

You scoff. “I'm not sure what that means but, at least go through my window next time.”

“Noted.”

“And knock!”

His lip quirk turns into a small grin. “Also noted.”

Bucky glances over at you, you’re biting your lip again. He wants to kiss you. He settles for pulling your chewed lip from under your teeth before it bleeds, just as he did that night outside your apartment. You smile, thinking that maybe you'll let him stay around for a while.

You realize that Bucky didn't walk you to your door that night, and didn't even make it inside the building. Your eyes furrow, and confusion and… amusement fills your body. “So did you stalk me the past few weeks or did you just kindly ask my landlord which unit I lived in?”

He pauses, hoping you wouldn't ask about that. “I wasn't stalking you, I just notice things.”

You laugh out loud, and he's caught off guard by how nice it sounds ringing in his ears. “That's literally what a stalker would say.”

“I'm serious, I've been busy doing stuff these past weeks.” Bucky tried to reassure you he wasn't camping out on the roof of the building across your window like an actual stalker would. You haven't decided if you were going to believe him. You just laugh because you feel weirdly good with him in your presence. You curse to yourself, why did the universe always have to be right?

You don't care to respond so Bucky continues. “So you're not going to ask me about what your roommate was talking about.” he turns his head to look at you. He can practically see the gears turning in your head, and he gulps.

You shake your head, eyes trained on whatever is in front of you. “Nah.” you look at him.

Bucky thinks you're the most interesting person he's met in a long time. He’ll test the waters. “What if I'm dangerous.” he narrows his eyes at you.

You narrow yours back at him. “If you're not going to kill me or you're not an avenger, I'm not too worried.”

“What do you have against the avengers?”

You groan. “It's a long story, but they are the reason I don't watch the news and why my roommate is a paranoid freak.”

Oh. so you really don't watch the news. Bucky thinks. He feels guilty when he feels a sort of relief go through his body, followed by more panic realizing he had to explain everything to you soon. Not now though, god no, not now. Maybe he could get by with not telling you at all. Bucky mentally punches himself in the face, no that wouldn't be right. Plus he was sure your roommate would babble to you about how badly the news painted him. Maybe him telling you first would be a better idea.

“Have you ever heard of the winter soldier?”

The golden rays of the sun showed down onto Bucky's face, he looked over to the window hearing the loud bustling of city life below him. Your curtains are brown with white detailing. Bucky shifted on your living room couch, he gauges his mind for the memories of last night. Everything was still all so hazy.

What day was it? Oh, last night. He tried, really, to get out the truth to you. Fumbling over his words and trying to even remember who he was, it was too much. But you, a god-given gift, told him he was too tired to talk, gave him water, and sent him off to bed on your couch.

“You can give me your tragic backstory tomorrow, get some sleep weirdo.” you had said to him before literally pushing him onto your very comfortable couch, before returning to your room for the night.

Bucky didn't sleep, he felt oddly safe and comfortable. But he couldn't sleep. Honestly, he was close to dozing off before your roommate had woken up just before sunrise to quietly go off to work, he assumed. Bucky couldn't tell what time it was, he was guessing it was probably around 5 or 6 am. He ought to get up soon and leave. Should he leave without saying something to you? Is that rude? He was sure you'd be okay with getting him out of your hair, he was already enough of a problem to people around him. Bucky gets up to grab his boots.

“Did you even sleep?” Bucky flinches, confused as to how easy it was for you to sneak up on him. He looks up and sees you leaning against a wall, assuming you just woke up. You're still dressed in comfortable clothing, your sweater falling down, giving him a full view of your collarbone. Your skin glows in the soft sunlight. Bucky shook his head in response.

You hum, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor as you make your way into the kitchen. You start making your coffee and Bucky follows. His eyes go to the table, is he intruding if he just sits down? He stands in the doorway and watches you make your drink. You turn to bucky with an oversized mug in hand, deadpanned. “Can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker. Sit down.”

You motion to the seat next to you. “Not a stalker.” bucky mumbled, and you scoff.

“You want something to drink? I got tea, coffee, juice, anything your heart desires.”

Bucky pauses. “Water?”

“Boring.” your eyes roll and you grab a bottle of water from behind you. Handing it to him, his finger brushes against yours. Bucky’s eyes dart to see your reaction, but nothing.

You get comfortable in your chair and open up your phone. Bucky is still sitting across from you, glancing between the door, window, and his water. He tries to look anywhere but at you. You quickly notice, a smart-ass comment comes to mind but you decide against it. Keeping the comfortable silence going for now.

You glance at Bucky, noticing the way his hair was still a mess from whatever he was doing last night. Quickly you realize this is the first time you've seen him in natural daylight, his eyes are beautiful and his usually dark hair looks closer to a light brunette. You could imagine going out on a date with him if he wasn't so dark and broody, but doesn't that just add to the appeal? Maybe.

You set your coffee down. “So…” trailing off, bucky finally makes eye contact with you. “You want to try again?”

Bucky's eyebrows furrow.

“I still haven't told me who the winter soldier is and it's taking everything in me to not use the internet.” you wave your phone around in the air before setting it down next to your coffee. Bucky purses his lip. “But, I respect you and wouldn't do that.”

Bucky's eyes are trained on the table, his mind trying to find any starting point for this. Should he just tell you about hydra? Start from the beginning with the 40s, fuck, he barely remembers any of that. He's not good with words anymore.

“Can I just…” he pauses, tapping his finger on the wooden table. “Show you?”

It was a bad idea, a really bad idea. Bucky told you that but you'd instead not question him why, bucky wasn't going to elaborate on that either. With both Hydra, the US government, and Steve Rogers looking for him, being in public wasn't the safest. Especially at such a hotspot for Captain America bootlickers and history nerds.

After many lazy complaints from you, you and bucky made your way out of your apartment together. Bucky wore the best casual disguise he could conjure up, and you and he stood in front of the Smithsonian museum.

Bucky glances over to you, a reasonably confused look plastered on your face. “Why are we at a museum?”

“Just follow me and don't draw attention to yourself, please?”

Instead, You roll your eyes and go ahead of him. “Stalker activity.” bucky hears you mumble before he follows you into the front door.

“What are you showing me, stalker.” bucky walks side by side with you, your presence is comforting in the crowded area. He noticed a group of elementary kids walking around, probably on a field trip.

“Stop calling me that.” he mumbled, “Captain America exhibit.”

Bucky looks at your hand, he could grab it. Only so he doesn't lose you in the crowd, just to keep you safe. Not because he wants to hold in, not because the quick graze of skin this morning left him wondering what it would feel like to hold you. Bucky decides against it and keeps walking.

“Isn't Captain America the like co-leader of the avengers or something?” you ask, bucky just shrugs? You see the large blown-up screens of steve roger and roll your eyes.

Bucky's eyes lock on his memorial tribute. “Don't freak out and you can ask me questions after we leave.”

Your face is littered with confusion again as you look at him, but you nod and turn to where he's looking at.

“..Best friends since childhood, James ‘bucky’ Barnes and steven rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield…” the voice spoke, highlighting a memorial on bucky. Your eyes widen after realizing the bucky standing next to you was the one talked about.

Your eyes travel to the photos of Bucky. One standing next to Steve Rogers with big smiles plastered on their faces, and one of just him. His hair is shorter and he looks much younger. There is a shine in his eyes you don't see now, a bright look that hadn't been snuffed out yet. Bucky watches you as you process the information given to you, watching for any negative or even mad emotions. You lean closer, reading the sign. Bucky was from Brooklyn, a sergeant in the military, he had 3 sisters and he was born in 1917 and he died in 1945. Well, obviously he didn't actually die, more like presumed dead.

“That's…you?”

bucky nodded slowly, eyes trained on the photo of him. He couldn't even recognize himself anymore.

Bucky scans the area, looking for anyone that may have recognized him. he lets out a very shaky breath. “Okay, we've been here too long let's go.” he really wanted to grab your hand on the way out. You don't look at him on the way out. God, did he ruin this already? He wants to punch himself.

You both make it outside, the cold morning wind gives you whiplash. It feels good. You turn to look at bucky and he kinda looks like he's going to have a mental breakdown, you don't blame him. What you just saw explains so much yet, leaves you with more questions than before. You don't think. You grab his flesh hand in hopes of being some comfort, praying that it doesn't make it worse. It doesn't. Bucky doesn't flinch this time but feels his heart jump out of his chest.

“Are you done with being outside or can we go somewhere?” bucky gives you a nervous and almost… pained look. “It's safe, hidden away and I know the owner,” you reassure him. Bucky reluctantly nods. I'll go anywhere with you as long as you keep holding my hand. And with that, you drag him through new york to your favorite-less-likely-to-get-shot-up coffee shop. It's small, always empty and the owner is an actual sweetheart.

The bells ring as you waltz in, bucky very close behind you, still holding your hand like a lost child. “Gary! Honey I'm home!” you shout with a wide, playful grin on your face, bucky gives a sigh of relief after noticing that it was indeed empty today.

An older man comes out from the back, along with a girl who looks like she should be in high school behind him. You wave and give him a warm smile, leaning over the counter slightly, “the usual, please?” you glance back to bucky, “.. and a water?”

You turn to bucky. “Sit anywhere, I”ll be right over in a second.”

He hums, releasing him from your grasp and suddenly he feels a little empty and more awkward than before. He goes to the table in the farthest corner. Front door. Window. Back door. You. he checks off the list and settles against the wall.

You grin. “How’ve you been holding up, old man.” you tease.

Gary, the owner. A wonderful and long-time friend of yours. When you first moved to new york years ago this was the first place you went to. You became a regular and you watches workers come and go, you came here when you needed quiet to work or sometimes just to snag a free drink from Gary since he just adored you so much.

His niece, Emma, was in high school now and worked here for the past year. You would help her study during her breaks and in return, free coffee, and pastries. She was a good baker. You didn't have family here in the city so they were the closest you were going to get to anything like it.

“Not too much, dear.” Gary gave you a warm smile, his eyes squinting. He glances over at bucky in the corner. He laughs “Got a pretty paranoid date over there, I can see his eyes hitting all the exits.”

You scoff, not expecting any less from him. “Not a date, but sadly my soulmate.”

“Finally!” Gary’s eyes light up, and you give him an annoyed look. “Oh be happy about it! Emma won't stop nagging about how she hasn't found hers yet.”

“Have not!” you hear the girl shout from across the bar. You laugh and shake your head.

Gary hands you your drinks and you bid him a quick bye, knowing he’ll just go back to his crossword puzzles in the back. Heading back over to sit next to bucky and hopefully find out he's not a zombie that's been raised from the dead.

“Your water, sergeant.” you joke, praying it doesn't hit a bad spot. Bucky was surprised by the name, he can't remember the last time someone called him that. His body feels weird.

You don't speak for a moment. You sip at your drink, hoping it will kick it as you didn't get your needed caffeine intake for the day as bucky was dragging you out the door to the museum.

You look at him through your eyelashes, he still looks like he's going to break down any second.

“Are you a zombie?”

“What?”

You set the cup down. “You died. So you must be a zombie. I can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker zombie.”

Bucky's lip quirks up. You're such a dork, he thinks. He almost laughs, it more or less came out as an amused scoff. “I'm not a zombie, I didn't die.”

“Museums these days… always spreading fake information,” you mumble into your cup, taking a quick sip. Bucky smiles, slightly.

“No, I…” bucky trails off, you keep up with the jokes yet you give him a comforting, understanding look. “I fell off a train in the war, I was supposed to die.” bucky catches his breath, talking shouldn't be this hard. “I didn’t, Hydra found me and put me on ice.”

Your eyes perk up in understanding, “like Captain America, right? So why are you on the run then?” bucky looks down, and both of your hands are cupped around your drink. He wants to grab it.

“I'm not Captain America, I did a lot of bad things when Hydra had me. I killed…” Bucky trails off, and memories of Hydra came back to him. All he hears is the sound of guns, and all the blood, he can still smell it. The electricity buzzed in his head as Hydra did their best to strip everything from him, take everything out of him, and then put it back in. bucky can see it all.

You grab his hand and it stops, he just feels you. Your hands are so warm and he wants to cry suddenly. “You don't have to tell me, I do know about Hydra. They did fucked up shit, I know. I'm sure whatever you had to do, wasn't your fault.”

You lean in. too close. your hand raises to his face and you wipe away a stray tear. Had he been crying?

Bucky lets out an unsteady breath. He can do this, you deserve an explanation. Bucky repeats in his head. He squeezes your hand gently. “They turned me into an assassin, they gave me a mission, and… I did it. I didnt know who I was before, but I didn’t... I didn’t know anything. I just knew my target.”

Your eyes are focused on him. “They had me on ice for most of it, like steve, that's why I don't remember anything. It's all so… foggy. I was sent on a mission and when I completed it I got put back under.”

“And when they needed me again, they'd just bring me back up again.”

“Like I was leftover food for them.”

You don't speak, you didnt dare to right now. Bucky's eyes were filled with anxiety as he watched you process the information. Your eyes fell, and you fiddled with your coffee cup. He saw you bite your lip again, he wanted to remind you not to. But the comment was lost in his throat. Bucky felt sick.

Say something. Please.

Your eyes glance at the silver metal shining between the cuff of his jacket and glove, something shines in your eyes, Bucky’s not quick enough to catch it before you're looking down again. Bucky is now convinced he ruined things on the first day of actually knowing you. He feels like he's going to throw up. Bucky is uncomfortable in his seat and suddenly the fresh warm air of the cafe makes him feel like he's suffocating. He goes to leave and never looks back, but your quicker this time. Grabbing his metal wrist before he gets the chance to stand. Bucky doesn't flinch this time.

“Buck, sit down.” you look at him now. “I don't hate you, calm down.”

He gulps. “You're scared of me though.”

“No.”

Bucky blinks at you, once, twice. “Why. I've killed so many-”

“Don't do that, bucky.” you shook your head at him. “Don't do that to yourself. I'm not dumb, you were a prisoner of war, a victim. You had no choice.”

A victim… he hadn't heard that word be used to describe him.

Bucky's throat goes dry. His leg bounces under the table, he can't look at you. Bucky's eyes dart to the clock. Tick, tick, tick… the door. The other door. He feels trapped.

You whisper, “bucky.”

Your name is the only thing that manages to escape Bucky’s lips. He sniffles, “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Hey, guys! Everything okay over here?”

Emma's cheering voice interrupts Bucky, you both flinch back and your hand retracts from Bucky’s hand. He feels cold. Bucky's cold hand wipes away any extra tears left. You mumble a quick response, and a few thank you’s and she left a muffin in front of you. Bucky hears her footsteps receding. He should have heard her coming up, when did he get so useless? That could have been an enemy and, boom. He's dead.

You push the blueberry muffin in front of bucky. “You like blueberries?” bucky looks at you, the muffin, back to you. Your lips are in a straight line, but your eyes are smiling.

“Plums.”

You were caught off-guard. “What?”

“I like plums.”

You hum in response and split the muffin in two. One for you and one for bucky.

The next hour is mostly silent, bucky ordered a coffee of your recommendation. Well, more like you ordered it for him and guilt-tripped him into drinking it. It was sweet. You ordered another large cup and bucky takes a mental note to make you drink more water in the future. Your hands grasp your coffee and a book, he wants to hold it again. He wonders what it would feel like to hold you, all of you.

He looks at the crossword puzzles you stole from the back for him. How could he possibly do a crossword puzzle when you're sitting in front of him? Bucky would glance up at you and he'd catch you looking at him, he looks away, and vice versa. Bucky is not shy, but sometimes he just gets nervous. How could you not? I mean, just look at you.

Your book falls from your grasp. “I don't want to intrude, but you are my stalker so I think I'm allowed to just a little.” bucky rolls his eyes. Your tone turns more serious “Just tell me if I am intruding though…”

Bucky doesn't respond and lets you speak. You're hoping you are not going into a sensitive area. “How did you get out… is that why you're on the run?”

Bucky inhales sharply. His eyes flutter. A simple no was all he could push out. You don't know bucky well, but the look he's sporting is enough for you to stop asking any more questions.

The clock reads 9:30. Shit.

“Fuck. work, I forgot about work.” you stand from your chair abruptly, the wooden chairs scraping against the floor. “I- we gotta go.”

I have nowhere to go, bucky thinks quickly. Before standing up with you, he doesn't say anything.

Grabbing both of your cups and chucking them in the trash, before returning the books to the counter. Bucky just stands there awkwardly, watching you. You notice and mumble a quick, “stalker” under your breath. Bucky pushes back a small grin. You gab his metal hand, covered by a glove, and push something into his hand. a key?

Bucky's eyebrows furrow but before he can get anything out. “You can't possibly think I’ll feel good knowing my soulmate is out on the run, probably sleeping behind some dumpster like a raccoon?”

“My roommate doesn't get home till tomorrow, and use the door his time!”

And with that, you’re speed-walking out, a soft jingle from the door as it closes. Bucky stands dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe as he blankly stares at the key in his gloved palm. His legs feel like jello. A soft cough from behind bucky brings him back to earth, it's the old man.

“Don't break their heart, I may be old and..” the old man, you said his name was Gary, looks bucky up and down. “...you may be big, but I'm sure I got a good right hook in here somewhere.”

Bucky feels warm and normal. Like he was a 15-year-old boy meeting his date's dad again. Bucky nods.

“I promise I will keep ‘em safe.”

tag list; @i-l-y-3000 @ivywasmaroon @waywardcrow @alana4610 @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #sebastian stan x reader

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cheegu3 · 2 years

Text

GOOD BOY GONE BAD |

Yeonjun - trust fund baby

synopsis: He was the ultimate, stereotypical rich kid. A trust fund baby having grown up with everything he wanted, never had to work an honest day in his life. You didn’t know exactly why your dad decided he was the ‘’ perfect fit ‘’ but you ended up being forced to marry him.

wc: 8.3k

pairing: f.m reader x yeonjun

genre: yandere, thriller

note: I decided to do short stories to post for a member every once in a while - every member gets assigned a song from the album somewhat related to the story + every other story has a good or bad ending, 🖤

there’s a lot of time-skips bc I didn’t want to make it too long, also the ending is so bad I’m terrible at endings

a/n + extra warning: this will probably be the darkest fic out of the all the members as it has non-con in it (not description, only ‘’ beginning of it ‘’ + talk of it after - and ofc this is in no way a reflection of yeonjun irl. This character is the most vile, disgusting, punchable asshole I’ve probably ever created. Pls read trigger warnings before continuing ⚠️⚠️⚠️

tw / trigger warning: non-con sex (SA), murder, degrading language, swearing, arranged marriage, forceful feeding, daddy issues & mommy issues, unhealthy attachment style, dacryphilia, LGBTQIA death

((none of the GIFs are mine, if you feel uncomfortable with yours being used in yandere fics pls message me <3 :) ))

He didn’t deserve any of it.

That was all you could think about as you walked the halls of your husband-to-be’s extravagant house. You had always had a deep-rooted hate for rich people. What had they really done in their past lives that made them so special, that made them so worthy of the privilege and easiness that was handed to them at their birth. What was it?

In all your years alive, you had never figured it out. You were quite spiritual due to your upbringing, and believed rich people or people in general who live comfortably with minimal pain - were people who had worked hard in the afterlife to earn points, being able to reincarnate to whatever they wanted to - yet it was still a mystery; why, how - you did not possess the true answers to these questions. You could only watch as they took everything they had for granted, while you barely had enough to survive.

Perhaps the person having the riches didn’t know himself, because he was arrogant, delusional and entitled, thinking the whole world was supposed to be catered to him.

All he knew was that he wasn’t built for love. At least not normal and healthy love. He only knew obsessions and extremes, that was how he was raised with absent parents, always working. He knew that their parenting, or rather lack of lead to their son being unhealthily attached to his maids and that this would eventually affect his love-life too. He wouldn’t fall in love the typical way - no, he’d fall in ‘’ love ‘’ due to obsession, due to not being able to get whoever he desired whenever he desired it, like a kid throwing a tantrum.

You just happened to be an inconvenience - why did your father have to propose such an idea to a lustful, hormonal young man who was trying to figure out the world.

So it was really your fault. You were the reason for his forbidden, hushed feelings; those that were dark, unwanted and scary - those he carried but could never show.

That’s why he looked down on you now, standing on the second floor at the top of the stairs - with a mix of emotions behind his eyes. Hatred, anger, maybe pity.

You looked quite kind, sweet and far too innocent for what he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop from happening to you.

He was going to ruin you completely, he’d enjoy it for sure but now all he could feel was sympathy for the broken down version, that was a complete 180 from this woman, that would come to be.

*******

The butler next to you shifted uncomfortably, very much embodying the tense and slightly awkward air in the room.

“ Welcome to house Choi, ma’am “ he pressed out before hurrying away.

You now stood in front of your husband. It all felt a little too unreal. Other than the person you had been married off to, there was also the fact that were was no wedding, no send off or goodbye, no nothing really.

It made it so much harder to accept your current reality.

“ Hello “

He was the first one to speak out of the two of you, now that you had been left alone, to your dismay.

“ Hi “ you said, only keeping the eye-contact briefly.

“ I’ll show you to our room “

You nodded, swallowing all the insults you wanted to hurl at your husband. He took you further into the second floor, where endless hallways stretched from a sort of pentagon shaped base.

You followed him hurriedly, afraid to get lost - to the middle hallway, at the end of it was yet another unnecessarily extravagant and luxurious item, an almost white or beige tall door with gold carvings on it.

He pushed it open to reveal even more lavishness. You refused to show any sort of fascination or awe at any of it. Yet he still looked at you smugly while you took it all in though, as if expecting anyone to be immensely impressed.

You put down your bags at the end of the bed and sat on it, sighing deeply since you felt grateful for some time to yourself and to be able to rest. But your husband, Yeonjun seemed to linger for long in the doorframe, just watching you creepily.

You finally tore your eyes away from the floor and looked at him, an assertive look on your face.

‘‘ Can I get some alone time or will you stick to me at all times because we’re married now? ‘‘ you asked coldly while keeping eye-contact.

Something flashed behind his eyes, but just as quickly as you had seen it, it was gone and instead replaced by a cocky grin.

‘‘ You’re feisty, aren’t you? ‘‘ he laughed and then turned on his heel, but stopped before closing the door behind him.

‘‘ Ah, right. Dinner’s at 6, don’t be late ‘‘ he pointed at something behind you, a clock and then winked cheekily before finally exiting completely.

You buried yourself under the covers, barely having any time to think before you drifted off to sleep in a heartbeat.

*******

A loud noise woke you up several hours later. You swore you had just dozed off for a couple of minutes. As the grogginess from sleep wore off, an angry Yeonjun came into your line of view.

He was staring down at you, tie undone and he looked like he could get on top of the bed and choke you just about then.

You sat up straight, now feeling a lot more awake with the fear-inducing eyes on you.

‘‘ S-sorry, did I..? ‘‘ you began, not quite sure yet what you had done wrong.

‘‘ Miss dinner? Yeah ‘‘ he wasted no time on closing the space between you, a hand gripping your arm and hoisting you up on your feet.

You only stared at him in fear but he paid you no mind - stubbornly forcing you to go down the stairs and sit to eat.

The fact that while glancing over and seeing that his seat was empty, made the whole situation more uncomfortable. He was standing to your left, very close and just staring at you waiting for you to eat.

You didn’t even realise you were sweating - you should’ve just taken a bite, to satisfy him but for some reason you couldn’t. The anxiety paired with the intense stare on you made you unable to hold your fork straight.

After a while he was even more fed up. One hand grabbed ahold of your jawline while the other grabbed the fork with a bit of meat. He then forced your mouth open and shoved it in so forcefully that you felt the ends of the fork stab the roof of your mouth.

You winched away from him, but he was already going for another bite. This time you let him open your mouth without much resistance.

When his eyes lingered on you again you quickly swallowed. He looked satisfied and you made the mistake of thinking he wasn’t angry anymore; that, that was the end of it.

He led you upstairs again, into your shared bedroom and closed the door behind. Everything was normal at first, he got ready for bed without saying a word - you of course turned away when he took his shirt off and instead went to the bathroom to do the same thing and brush your teeth.

You ended up admiring the nightgown he had given you. It was a bit too short but it was very cute with bows and lace at the edges. You smiled for the first time that day at such a small thing.

Then you braced yourself before walking out again. You barely looked at him before crawling into bed but felt how the bed dipped as he got in too.

Why was he being so quiet?

‘‘ Goodnight ‘‘ you said, hesitantly.

You felt your cheeks slightly heat up at the long silence after. Then you heard shuffling and felt him turn around to face you.

You felt uncomfortable again, closing your eyes and trying to think of anything but the fact that he was so close. That’s when he started to move closer, his heavy breath eventually tickling your neck as he buried his head in the crook of it.

‘‘ Aren’t you gonna give me a wedding gift? Stay still for me ‘‘ he said in a half-whisper, his husky voice sending shivers down your back.

Your furrowed your brows and was about to ask what he meant.

‘’ I deserve this ‘’ he added.

Yeonjun’s hand slipped under the nightgown, lifting it so your underwear was exposed. You gasped and instantly reacted by trying to tug it down but his hand caught your wrist.

He liked how you struggled in his iron-like grip, he was stronger than you, way stronger and he was very determined to get what he had been waiting all day for.

You whimpered as you felt yourself run out of energy to keep trying to fight back and the realisation that the inevitable would happen because of it, broke your heart; tears streamed down your face as he flipped you over on your stomach.

Yeonjun felt ecstatic. He had been waiting too long for this, the moment you were declared his wife he wanted to mark you as his - practically willing to go to your house straight away. But he composed himself, he wanted it to be special.

As special as it can be for someone who is sick and is only able to love sickly. In his fantasy it wasn’t romantic, it was a sort of ceremony. For his pleasure, and for your submission to be put into stone.

What he hadn’t expected though was for him to enjoy your tears so much. While watching you now, face down and pressed to the pillow with muffled sobs escaping you - he felt arousal and ecstasy and most of all power, all that he craved in front of him and within.

You did that to him. You brought out those addictive feelings. It was your fault you made him feel like this.

And finally he’d be able to punish you for it, something sure to leave a mark forever.

*******

The sun shined right onto your face early in the morning, making you toss and turn and realise at the same time that you were unfortunately alive - you had prayed to not wake up again, but alas God never listens.

The memories of the night before came flooding back to you but you tried your best to push them away by repeating random words inside your head in hopes of your brain latching on to something else.

You cautiously peeked at the man beside you. Seeing that monster after what he did to you almost made you throw up. The glance was quick, he looked like he was sleeping comfortably, resting on one of his arms that was stretched up and under his head.

Despite you crying yourself to sleep and wishing to never wake up again, there was one thing you had wished for more - for him to never wake up again. It would be the ultimate karma if he never did. You would inherit his fortune living comfortably in this big mansion all alone, not a man in sight to disturb you.

But whenever you allowed your mind to wander like that the more realistic thoughts would hit, unfortunately. Saying that if it sounded too good to be true, it was very likely to be so.

Soon enough, you felt your husband’s hands wrap around your waist, tugging you so close that your back was touching him.

Involuntarily you began to shake, thinking he was going to repeat his horrific acts until you showed submission and obedience.

A sudden deep laugh caught you off guard.

“ You can’t even look at me “ Yeonjun said, tauntingly.

You closed your eyes praying to whatever God was out there to not make you cry in this moment, to not show weakness.

“ You’re still fighting, which makes it more fun for me “ he added.

“ But really, we both know you should give up, especially after yesterday “ he sneered.

Your body froze, you felt like you had to get out of his arms because they were not a safe space. Putting your weight on your forearm, you pushed with it to sort of shuffle out of his hold.

He scoffed and not even a second later you were pulled back into his arms without any effort.

It felt humiliating and defeating.

“ You’re so fucking weak “

His words hit like knives, and he knew it did.

The dark, mocking chuckles that followed felt very disturbing. But nonetheless, you were still extremely determined to not give in completely and let yourself cry. It proved to be harder than you had thought. You almost flinched and audibly gagged when you felt his disgusting hands wandering and snaking around your waist again. It took a lot of effort to not do any of that, on top of not crying - it was honestly exhausting.

Your eyelids began feeling heavy again. Yeonjun felt you relax - finally not fighting back anymore, which surprised him. Instead of having to fight the emotions from overtaking you, you now had to fight to stay awake, because there was no way in hell you’d let yourself fall asleep around him and be as vulnerable as can be.

It was taking all of your energy to stay awake though. The man behind you gave you a rare smile, one only he could see. He couldn’t help but find you cute in that moment. You looked very vulnerable - fighting deeply against the unfairness of the world, but in the end, succumbing to something as simple as a basic human need.

How pathetic

As your breathing became heavier, head hanging only for it to dart back up a few seconds later - along with you desperately trying to tell yourself words in your mind to stay awake, you eventually was not able to fight the laws of the nature.

Your head dipped again, but this time you fell asleep deeply. Soundly sleeping comfortably in the arms of your abuser.

Yeonjun looked down at you with a newfound curiosity. In a way it was bittersweet - he could have manipulated you, played his cards right and made you fall in love but in the end he knew it was gonna be a one-sided relationship again, like all his past relationships, wether it be romantic or platonic.

He was scared of going out of his usual routine. New things or experiences scared him and he didn’t feel that anything such would go his way. If you knew this, maybe you wouldn’t blame him but then again, that was probably just him making excuses for acting badly towards people.

He hadn’t known any other way but for some reason you had to suffer because of it - Yeonjun knew that wasn’t fair, but he felt he couldn’t help it. It’s very hard to break free from the way you’re programmed to do, every day of your life.

Your newfound husband thought this as he looked at his wife. He didn’t want to do anything inappropriate at that moment, he just wanted to watch you sleep, curiously.

You looked the most comfortable and safe when you slept, a slight upturn of the corners of your mouth was something that indicated this, and something he had noticed the night before.

Maybe it was because that was the only place that felt truly safe for you. If he was normal, he would’ve started to feel immense guilt by now, but Yeonjun felt nothing.

He felt that very thing he did - he did for a reason and putting oneself’s first as a priority wasn’t a bad thing.

*******

When you opened your eyes again, it didn’t take long for you to recall what had happened just before you fell asleep. However, you quickly realised you couldn’t feel his strong hold around you anymore.

You looked behind you and then scanned the rest of the room and came to the conclusion that he must’ve got up and left the room. You let out a relieved sigh, not sure if you could handle his suffocating presence again. You were thankful for the few moments alone you got.

So you sat there for several minutes - not particularly admiring the room like you would’ve if this was normal, because it was anything but normal. Instead you were looking around the room to look for weapons and escape routes.

It was spacious, should he chase you; but it had downsides - it didn’t have any good weapons, maybe purposefully and it only had the one door to the bathroom, the other door to the entrance and windows that were far too high up.

You went over the pros and cons of jumping through the window, because you were way too sure there was no way you’d get out through the front; he had those terrifying guards, maids and probably an alarm. In short, way too many things to alert the devil that you were trying to escape.

If you were to jump, you might break a leg or two at most, you could handle one leg or a broken ankle, as well as a broken arm but maybe you were being way too optimistic. Either way you refused to let the small spark of hope inside die.

Firm knocks interrupted your thoughts. You glanced to the door just in time to see it open, revealing Yeonjun. He hadn’t even waited for you to give an answer, the thought made you scoff as you met his eyes - of course not.

‘‘ You’re finally up ‘‘ he said plainly.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

‘‘ Let’s go down then, my maids are waiting for you ‘‘

You furrowed your brows confusedly. His maids? What could they possibly want?

He laughed at your puzzled expression.

‘‘ To bathe you ‘‘

‘‘ To, bathe- ‘‘ you stuttered.

But your husband had already turned on his heel.

‘‘ I have short patience, move it ‘‘ he warned while looking over his shoulder at you, not stopping once.

You hurriedly followed and on the way down the staircase you looked around like you had done in the bedroom to look for escape routes and possible weapons. The sight disappointed you yet again, and without meaning to you let out a defeated sigh.

‘‘ No need to look, there’s no way out of here ‘‘ he snickered in front of you with his back turned.

‘‘ What? I wasn’t- ‘‘

‘‘ I have cameras, everywhere ‘‘

You swallowed the uncomfortable feeling in your throat. Technically you hadn’t done anything wrong but you were terrified of getting punished again, which was why you felt like you were now walking on eggshells.

You followed him all the way down the many notorious hallways - ending up outside a smaller bathroom, luxurious nonetheless, with the door standing open and revealing one maid kneeling by the bathtub. It looked like she was scrubbing it. When she heard your footsteps coming to a halt in front of the bathroom she looked up and gave a polite smile.

‘‘ Hello, master ‘‘

You cringed at the word.

‘‘ Take care of her ‘‘ Yeonjun said, barely reacting to what she had called him.

The maid nodded and then turned her attention to you.

‘‘ Welcome, y/n. We’re very happy you’re here ‘‘ she said, warmly.

You had to bite your tongue to hold yourself back from exploding in anger or giving her a sarcastic comment. Still, you realised they most likely had no choice in what to say or do when it came to their ‘master’s’ house.

A hand grazed your lower back, sending shivers down your spine, before giving you a slight nudge that made you take a step forwards.

You were about to look back and say something but yet again he was already on his way. You scoffed. He did how he pleased at all times.

‘‘ Y/n? ‘‘ the maid’s soft voice caught your attention again.

‘‘ Hm? ‘‘ you said mindlessly, still watching your husband striding down the corridor.

You wondered what he was in such a hurry to do, where was he going?

‘‘ By orders, I have to wash you. Please enter ‘‘ she said, the polite smile faltering a bit showing that her patience was running out.

You sighed and stepped inside. Not long after an arm reached behind you and closed the door, locking it.

The maid clearly didn’t want to waste any more time, because as soon as the click echoed in the small room - her petite hands quickly found the rim of your t-shirt. She was keeping eye-contact to get consent so she could continue undressing you, and it weirdly felt very intimate yet appreciative.

You nodded, smiling awkwardly. It was clear that both of you wanted it to be over with, so you weren’t going to fight and risk making it last longer.

She pulled the shirt over your head and looked into your eyes again when reaching for your pants. You nodded, avoiding eye-contact.

She did the rest swiftly and then told you to wait while preparing the bath. As she was doing so, you got the chance to really look at her. You couldn’t stop yourself even if you really wanted to.

You were planning on leaving this place anyway and didn’t want to have to save people you had just met. But you couldn’t help but feel pity as you watched her turn on the tap. She looked young, but older than you by quite a few years and you knew deep inside that there was no way she was doing this job willingly, something you didn’t want to think about.

She also looked sad, her head was hanging most of the time, except for when she had to look into your eyes. It was obvious her polite, sweet smile was a trained automatic mechanism to appear fine and normal on the outside. But if you looked closer you could see the stress evident on her skin and her dark circles.

She turned to you now, with that smile on her face.

‘’ The bath is ready, miss ‘’

You got up and let yourself be lead into the bath, one hand holding onto hers for balance. While in you let out a satisfied breath. This was definitely the most relaxed you had felt since arriving at the mansion; a well deserved break.

After some time of having your eyes closed and a long silence, you opened your eyes again to thank the maid. Her hand was still holding yours but she looked back at you with such intensity that all your words got knocked out of you.

Her eyes were open wide, red specked like she hadn’t slept in days and her fingers tightened around your hand when she saw that she had finally caught your attention.

All you managed to get out was a confused groan.

‘’ Miss, you need to get out of here ‘’ she started, talking at a rapid speed.

‘’ It’s awful here you need to escape before it’s too late I know a way it will take time- ‘’ she added, so quickly it all melted into an incomprehensible mumble.

‘‘-slow down! ‘‘ you grabbed her shoulders to ground her and she breathed out shakily.

‘‘ I’m sorry, miss ‘‘

You smiled at her, seeing that she had calmed down but she looked rather disappointed in herself.

‘‘ You have to escape ‘‘

You tilted your head at this.

This was the last thing you had expected. The first worker you see is willing to risk their life to help you escape. Not only that, but they grab the first chance they get with you alone to tell you that you need to escape.

‘’ I know a way, I- ‘‘

‘‘-What? You know a way? Please tell me, hurry, please! ‘‘

It was your time to sound desperate now. You felt paranoid that Yeonjun would come back any minute now. Your heartbeat had picked up and you stared at her the same way, with the same intensity she had done just a few seconds ago.

‘‘ Yes, but it will take time, miss calm down ‘‘ her thumb stroked over your intertwined hands.

You breathed in and out deeply which made your heart-rate stabilise as well as calm your overactive mind which was overflowing with questions, having an urgent need for action.

‘‘ First, you need to gain his trust. You will have to do whatever it takes, no matter how much you hate it ‘‘ she nodded firmly when she saw you grimace at the idea.

‘‘ Then, once he trusts you enough he will let you go outside. You will always be with maids or guards outside but when the day comes that I’m the one to watch over you, you make a run for it! ‘‘ she said in a hushed, urgent voice.

‘‘ Where to? ‘‘

‘‘ At the end of the garden he has a botanical pathway, big plants and flowers cover it, but there’s a secret gate there at the very end that leads directly onto a footpath ‘‘

‘‘ You follow it and you will eventually reach a hill, on top you can see the neighbourhoods and the city. It won’t take long to get to the nearest house ‘‘

You nodded eagerly, now taking both of her hands into yours.

‘‘ Thank you, thank you so much ‘‘ your eyes welled up with tears of gratitude.

She gave you a genuine, wide smile full of hope for the first time.

‘‘ What are you doing? ‘‘ a curious and slightly disgusted voice asked.

You and the maid jumped at the new voice joining the conversation. None of you had noticed the door opening, Yeonjun must’ve opened it slowly because he heard hushed voices inside.

But to your surprise, he didn’t look angry. He merely cocked an eyebrow and smirked when you looked at him bewildered and with what you could only imagine was a guilty expression.

‘‘ Are you two done? ‘‘

The maid snapped out of her shock and got up on her feet, pulling you up by the arm with her. She bowed deeply and seemed to keep her head hanging lower than usual, probably to hide her flushed cheeks.

‘‘ Yes, sorry sir ‘‘ she hurried to blurt out, voice shaky.

Yeonjun looked satisfied with her answer and turned his eyes to you again. An amused glint took over his brown eyes, that traveled over your body. That was the exact moment both you and the maid realised you were still naked.

You shrieked and immediately darted behind her to try and hide.

‘‘ Oh come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen it already ‘‘ he teased meanly.

You felt yourself get angry again but held back when the maid’s words came into your head again. She, on the other hand looked embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable at his words.

Several seconds in silence passed without him moving an inch, he had a challenging look in his eyes whenever you dared meet them. So you sighed after finally having enough of the game and went past the maid to pick up your clothes.

You could feel both their eyes on you as you quickly got dressed but you ignored it and hoped that your cheeks wouldn’t be flushed as well.

Then you stood up and stepped out of the room to stand next to Yeonjun, ready to follow him. You gave the maid another small smile of gratitude.

‘‘ Let’s go ‘‘

*******

After your talk with the maid you barely saw her and you started to feel anxious, thinking your husband had gotten rid of her or somehow found out your scheming. Time was moving incredibly slow, it felt like he never let his noose around your neck go, never making things a bit easier for you or being a bit more lenient - no matter how much you took whatever he did to you.

Every night, you’d cry and pray that the next day would be different, that tomorrow would be the day he loosened the hold to give you the opportunity to escape.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed your sudden change in behaviour. Thankfully, you didn’t think so because he had acted the exact same the past week. He rarely showed affection unless it was concealed under a humiliating tone but nothing else had changed. He was away for most of the day, going to his prestigious school and studying some before coming to torment you.

But then, the day came at last. You had thought it was another normal day with the same routine, a day of similarity merging together with all the other mundane days.

You got up at the same time as him like always. Then you went downstairs to make breakfast for him and with a dead, emotionless expression on your face, you served him. He finished eating and dragged you upstairs to sit on the bed, praised you for being a ‘’ good girl ‘’ and forcefully kissed you, like he always did because he was afraid of showing he actually loved you.

Then he went downstairs and you were expected to follow him. As you were about to close the door he spoke to the guard next to the door.

‘‘ Ah right, today, she’s allowed outside. Don’t let her get out of your sight ‘‘

You immediately lit up but you suppressed it from showing with all your might. The guard nodded and bowed as Yeonjun walked to his driver, meanwhile he himself turned to you.

He didn’t say anything, but just opened the door all the way so you could walk out. You gave him what you thought was a weak smile, filled with uncertainty and nervousness and then followed as he started walking down the garden.

The garden was a lot bigger than you had imagined, something that would be a disadvantage to a person looking to escape. It was wide, long and open - not having many hiding-spots due to the big flower bushes being far from the path. They followed the huge cobble-wall that seemed to go as far as you looked.

The guard came to a halt about halfway down the path. If you continued down the steps that were a few meters away, there was a crossroad, one way to the left, where you assumed hot-springs were, due to the cloud of steam emitting from over there - and one straight way that looked thick with bushes almost swallowing the small path, you were sure that was where you’d reach the botanical garden the maid was talking about.

You made a mental note of it and then walked over to the wooden bench that the guard was pointing to. He lingered for a few minutes behind, keeping a close watch on you but left momentarily to answer a phone-call.

When he returned he barked orders at the handful of gardeners watering the plants to keep an eye on you as he had to do something important.

This could be your only chance.

The only problem was that you had to distract them somehow. But you thought there were a few ways although a shot in the dark, that you had to try. Not trying would make you more disappointed in yourself than trying to escape and then getting caught.

So you took a few calming breaths to prepare yourself and then approached the one closest to you. She was an elderly lady and was crouched down, picking some berries.

‘‘ Excuse me? ‘‘

You went over the practiced lines and plan once more in your head and tried to give her a confident smile.

The elderly woman turned her head towards you and blinked a few times, a blank expression on her face.

‘‘ Um, well I saw that there were some kids over by the entrance, they were apparently cutting off the flowers to give to someone else ‘‘

She continued to stare at you with a puzzled expression but gave no answer. When you saw her head turn to look at the other workers you panicked a bit, she didn’t seem to believe you so you had to give everything you got.

‘‘ Really, think of how disappointed Yeonjun would be when he finds out, your master ‘‘

Her eyes bulged as soon as you mentioned Yeonjun and she quickly scrambled to her feet, setting off on a half-run straight away.

You hurried down the steps, getting even closer to the crossway now and hid along with the wall. The gardeners who were working on the flowerbeds further away looked at each other confusedly.

You got lucky, they started to move to follow the elderly woman meanwhile the ones closest to the mansion’s wall, where they couldn’t see you, stayed behind.

Just like you had planned in your head, you waited a bit longer before you would try to run for it.

You started to count down a minute, glancing a lot at the workers above and down the path again. It seemed quiet, so you slowly moved along the wall.

‘‘ What do you think you’re doing? ‘‘

The blood in your veins froze.

That voice...the one you hated so much.

It was coming from right behind you. Somehow, being caught redhanded made your fight or flight kick in and you ran for it without looking back.

You could hear steps coming closer and closer.

Heading straight for the overgrown botanical garden you jumped into a rose bush some meters in. Running wasn’t your strongest suit so you figured hiding was the smartest move, and also since he’d know exactly what you would’ve been heading for.

The steps became louder and you held your breath as they went right past you. The sound disappeared completely as the distance between you and your captor increased. How you wished there was another way out though; all you could do now was to wait for him to run back after realising you weren’t there and then you could crawl out and make a run for it again.

It would take way longer than you had anticipated.

It felt like you had sat still for hours in the bush, not daring to move around or barely breathe. The sky had even turned dark before you felt brave enough to peek out from your hiding spot.

Every sound made your anxiety spike - every rustling leaf or crunch from the gravel below your feet. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn back? You could go out and up to the house, beg on your knees for Yeonjun to forgive you and maybe you’d be left alone, unhurt.

You quickly shook off this thought invading your mind, it was too late to turn back now, you had waited too long for this opportunity to escape your personal hell on earth to chicken out now.

You remembered what your mom had told you - if you try there’s a 50/50 chance, if you don’t, it’s 0%. With these words echoing in your mind you finally pushed the last bush aside, revealing the path again to you.

A quick glance from side to side told you that no one was on it. You also listened for a few seconds but all that could be heard in the deafening silence were your own heavy breaths.

You took a hesitant step out, being fully out in the open now to whoever had a view of the botanical garden’s entrance. It felt as if the sound of your heart drumming in your chest would cause it to jump out any minute - maybe along with any predators that lurked in these corners.

The path cleared only for you to come face to face with an overgrown bit again but you knew that this was the way out, the hidden door. Pushing through it would prove to be quite the hassle. Thorns cut your skin easily and you hissed while trying to ignore the warm liquid pouring down slowly.

There wasn’t much left now, the maid can’t have meant a long path.

Right as you were beginning to see the clearing through the thinner leaves in front, you were yanked back by your hair.

You yelped in pain and tried to get out of the person’s hold. Deep down, you knew who it was which only made you thrash around frantically, desperately trying to get away from your predator.

‘‘ Found you ‘‘

His voice was low with no amusement in it, like he was tired and quite irritated. You felt cold metal touch the exposed skin on your neck, and seconds later you weren’t able to continue fighting back.

You cursed yourself, Yeonjun and even the world for being so unfair - expecting your vision to get blurry and accepting it when you fell into darkness again.

*******

Your husband stood in front of your slumped form now. The guards had tied you up behind the pillar like they were told and he was just waiting for you to wake up.

Yeonjun was feeling only a little bit bad about what was about to happen, but you had tried to escape after all. Although it wasn’t successful, you had almost put everything on the line. If the public found out that a top businessman’s son had treated his wife like that, then the empire wouldn’t be his to take over. He couldn’t let that happen, so he needed to teach you a lesson - never escape again, never even try it.

Minutes passed and he was getting impatient. He walked over and nudged you with his foot, like you were no more than an animal that he didn’t want to be associated with.

You stirred slightly and then opened your eyes. Immediately you wished you could go back to being asleep, the only place you seemed to get peace.

The first thing you saw was your dad. Hands and feet bound and kneeling on the floor with a gag in his mouth. He looked rough. There were visible cuts on his face and his head was hanging looking like just holding his head up was tiresome.

‘‘ What have you done to him? Why is he here? ‘‘ you asked, voice hoarse.

You felt exactly like your dad, tired and like you had given up. That hope you had so desperately held on to was not at all evident in your voice now.

Yeonjun crouched down next to you and the corners of his mouth curled up. There was no frustration in his eyes anymore, he met yours confidently - he had after all gotten what he wanted.

‘‘ Your dad is here...because you couldn’t behave ‘‘ he says, mockingly slow like you were a child or too stupid to understand.

You didn’t answer him, you only looked at your dad with pity. Somehow you knew what was going to happen to him but you felt too tired and angry to care. Nothing really surprised you now anyway, especially when it came to the extent of Yeonjun’s sadism and cruelty.

His eyebrows twitched while watching you, he was confused.

‘‘ You don’t care? ‘‘

At that you saw your father move, his head raising to somewhat try to look at you. Something stirred in your heart; no matter what he had done to you, you could never hate him. No matter how hard you’d try, there would always be a sense of love and care for him. You wanted him to be happy and healthy, not here to meet a horrible fate that was due to your reckless actions.

The realisation of your true feelings made a single tear fall. You looked at him and met his eyes, smiling bittersweetly.

‘‘ I do ‘‘

‘‘ But? ‘‘

‘‘ There’s nothing I can do ‘‘

His arrogant laugh echoed. Not long after, he started to turn his head to focus on your dad, as if expecting something.

‘‘ I think there’s something you should know. Before your dad meets his fate that is ‘‘

Yeonjun paid you no attention as you stared bewildered at him, not sure what to expect.

He smirked again, eyes never leaving your dad. You saw in the corner of your eye how one of his guards moved from behind.

‘‘ You see, your dad never sold you off, not easily anyway ‘‘ you blinked at him, dread slowly creeping up on you.

‘‘ He was forced to. My dad threatened that he would kill you when your dad failed to follow through a payment. This was the only way he could save your life although immediately putting his own in misery ‘‘ he laughed mockingly to your dad.

‘‘ How pathetic ‘‘

Your eyes stung with fresh tears. You wished so badly that he was wrong; that your dad had really been an awful person to give his daughter up like that. But reality was often much more crueler than you’d expect, making this goodbye a deeply painful one.

Yeonjun felt amused as he watched your dad cry upon seeing your tears fall. He had lived with such guilt and pain, having to know every day that you hated him. But now, he felt more the pain of seeing his beloved daughter cry as she realised something and as he knew they would soon be separated again.

During the time you were apart and you hated him, he couldn’t help but think like a father - was your husband treating you okay? Were you fed and cared for? Did you feel lonely?

It ached his heart to come face to face with the person he had been forced to give you off to - a couple of days ago when he had visited your parents’ home, there to take him away and cause his daughter more pain.

Still he felt immensely grateful that the truth would come out before you had to say your goodbyes. It hurt too much on his soul to know you had hatred for him, for something he only did to save you.

Your dad saw it too, the man approaching him while you were focused on Yeonjun, hanging on to every word he said. Therefor he hurried to say his last words.

‘‘ I love you, y/n, goodbye ‘‘

Your head whipped around at his words just as the wandering man plunged a sword through his heart. It felt as if your whole world came crashing down. The lifeless body of your dad fell to the ground and a thick silence followed.

You started to sob uncontrollably, breaths getting quicker. Yeonjun smiled at the mess he had created and then sat down fully next to you, his back resting against the pillar.

He let you cry there for a long time. You weren’t even sure how long had passed when your sobs calmed down and you felt like there wasn’t an ounce of water left to cry out anymore.

It seemed as if his niceties had been extended for a reason though as more was yet to come. The entrance door opened, the maid coming in with two guards behind her and she was tied just like your dad had been.

You furrowed your brows in confusion and sat up straight, the grogginess from crying quickly disappearing.

Yeonjun got up too, looking happy that there was some new action. This time, he decided to go over to the maid.

He took a hold of your maid’s hair that was neatly tied into a bun and yanked it forwards, earning a yelp of pain from her. Now that she was closer, you could see that she also had marks of resistance, cuts that were bleeding and even old bruises. It made you feel like you could cry again.

Was this all because of you?

‘‘ Do you recognise her? ‘‘

You nodded; mind working overdrive to try and find a possible way he could’ve found out.

‘‘ The one who helped you escape, right? ‘‘

He tilted his head while looking down at her degradingly.

‘‘ And does she know? ‘‘ he met your eyes, smirking and visibly enjoying your puzzled expression that then turned into a horrified realisation.

The maid kept her head down and you were thankful you didn’t have to meet her eyes as your husband continued his torture session.

‘‘ Does she know that all it takes for little y/n to catch feelings is...someone being nice to her? ‘‘ he scoffed ‘‘ So pitiful ‘‘

You felt your face burn in embarrassment, fresh tears threatening to spill at any moment.

‘‘ And an older woman at that ‘‘

You refused to meet any of their eyes.

‘‘ Is it maybe to make up for the lack of love your mommy gave you? ‘‘ he smiled gleefully, not even trying to hide his sadistic emotions.

It was starting to feel painful and uncomfortable. You twisted - trying to in any way get away from the words hitting you, insulting you. The painful childhood memories that somehow Yeonjun had known was hitting every deep spot you had fought so hard to keep buried, and he knew this.

‘‘ But I feel betrayed, by both of you. So someone has to pay ‘‘ he added.

You immediately found his eyes again.

‘‘ Please! Don’t hurt her, just kill me instead! ‘‘

You didn’t know if you were begging for him to kill you for your sake more than the maid’s, because after all there’s no way you actually had feelings for her already, right?

You had laid awake every night since then thinking about her. Wondering if she was safe and happy but that must all be normal? She had helped you after all. Either way, there was no way Yeonjun was going to kill you, in the end it’s not the dead you should feel bad for and that are in pain, it’s the living.

Both the maid and you knew what was coming. You gave her a sad, apologetic smile and refused to let your true feelings show; even as the guard reached the second victim, plunging the sword deep into her heart and as her lifeless body hit the floor, you refused to cry.

You knew that wasn’t what she would’ve wanted you to do anyway. She would’ve wanted you to get revenge and escape on both of your behalves. Just like that, the spark of hope inside came alive again.

No matter what, you had to go through with the plan the maid had told you about a week ago. That time she had approached you and told you about what was going to happen when you’d try to escape.

‘‘ They know you’re gonna escape soon. Everyone’s on high alert, even if they’re doing everything to not show it ‘‘

You blinked at her, caught off guard by her sudden appearance behind you. You hadn’t seen her since that time she told you about the plan.

A few other maids passed by and you smiled as to not draw attention to yourselves.

‘‘ How do they know? ‘‘ you whispered urgently.

The maid sighed.

‘‘ I overheard maids gossiping as I was cleaning one of the bathrooms a few days ago ‘‘

You sighed now too.

‘‘ Don’t worry. I know their whole plan, you just have to be the perfect actress and then after- when they’ve..killed me. That’s when you can go ‘‘

‘‘ W-what do you mean kill you? ‘‘

She gave you a sad smile, full of meaning.

‘‘ You have to let them kill me for this to work, just trust me please ‘‘ she pleaded, eyes glossy.

‘‘ Okay...I guess I have no other choice ‘‘ you answered after a few moments of hesitating ‘‘ I will trust you ‘‘.

As if on cue while you reminisced the memory - all of the guards, maids and even Yeonjun covered their yawning mouths, sudden sleepiness hitting them. It quickly escalated and they grabbed whatever was nearest to not plunge to the floor.

The maid’s plan had worked, the sleeping pills she had slipped into their drinks had worked.

Fresh tears streamed down freely down your cheeks now as you whispered a small ‘’ thank you ‘’ to her still body. Then you untied yourself and stood up.

It didn’t take long for you to gather your stuff and finally be able to leave your personal hellhole. You opened the door cautiously as if you were expecting someone to be outside the front door ready to ambush you.

But it was deserted, not even a gardener in sight. You stopped for a moment, having the time to do so as you had already called for a taxi; you just stood there, still and finally feeling at peace, breathing in the fresh air.

You weren’t sure how long the pills would last - the two of you had discussed the use of poison to really be sure they wouldn’t come after you but the maid insisted to use a non-killing option. She explained that he had way more people working for him, they would try to get their revenge by either killing you or getting you convicted, aka a life sentence is prison. So, you had to reluctantly agree.

But for now, you weren’t too anxious with thoughts of them waking up and possibly finding you within a week because - At last, you were free.

a/n: thank u for reading, this is my longest fic yet! also plz don’t drink and write LMAO, this is how the first draft went, I hope it makes u laugh as much as it made me;

In all your years alive, you had never figured it out. You were quite sporitual, and believed rich peoplöe were people who had worked hard in the afteife to rarn points to reincarnatw to whatever they wanted to - yet it eas still a myserty, why, how . you did not posoess tthese questi0jsl

Perhaps the person havijng the riches didnät know himlsef, becausde he was arogant, delusional and enititled, tnining the whole world was supposed to be catered to him.

All he knew was that he wasn’t bu9lt for love. At leadt npt normal and healthy love. He only knew obsessions and extemes, that was how he was raisefd with absednt parents, always fowkring, Hr knew rhat their faith would eventually ebefall his fown, he wouldnät gall in love the picak way - no, heäd faöö in lovde due to obsession, due to not being able to get whoever he desire whenver he desired it.

holyt shit i cans bareky see my screen hi w will

#yandere yeonjun #yandere txt #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #goodboygonebadseries #yandere tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt scenarios #kpop dark romance #tomorrow x together

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greatstormcat · 6 months

Note

Hey! I saw your post about requests. This isn’t necessarily a detailed one because I love giving fellow authors freedom, but I’m willing to throw out more ideas if more inspo is needed!

Something I’ve noticed is that I don’t see a lot of Gaz fics/hcs about him in regards to darkfics or similar stuff like slasher, paranormal, stalker, etc. I know that he’s a sweet and relatively normal boy but I’d love to see more of this and would greatly appreciate and devour any of your thoughts on this.

I read somewhere about how people always say “(character) wouldn’t do that” but that we should be asking what would make character do that? What would make them break their morals/ideals/whatever? What circumstances would need to arise to drive character to these actions? I think that challenge is super interesting and I myself have been pondering how Gaz could fit in with some of these darker themes.

I think this idea is interesting from all angles, whether it’s horror, angst, non smut, smut, anything and everything and a mix of whatever, it’s something I’d gladly chew on regardless.

When it comes to the reader if you do choose to bless us with your thoughts, it’s all up to you! I am nb and they/them, but I can read just about everything. M!reader gets a bit difficult just because I don’t have those parts but I can work around it, the only thing I really struggle with in fics is when skirts are involved, like if their outfit is described—even if that’s a bit silly to get caught on. I however will gladly take anything you choose to feed us if you do! 🫶

The unholy noise I made when I read this.... I need a moment, you've hit with the best ask possible. It’s a bit shorter than I’d like but I had to get this reply down as quickly as possible because brain going brrrr

TW; MDNI 18+, darkfic, canon typical violence, stalking, mentions of non/con, game spoilers, murder, serialkiller!gaz perhaps…

Yes, Gaz has the image of the sensible, clean cut, good boy of the team, but that is solely because he has cultivated that image, this is his mask. In reality, dear sweet Gaz has a very dark side to him. Just think about it, he pulls the trigger when pointing the revolver at the Butcher's family even though Price didn't tell him to do it, didn't have to order him to threaten a woman and her child with a weapon but he did. He thinks about it later and asks for absolution but he still did it without hesitating. He rails against the rules that stop him from doing what he thinks is right, and happily leaps at the chance when Price sets that inconvenient rulebook on fire.

No, Gaz isn't the fluffy innocent boy people see him as, he is spitting fury and hellfire. He is driven, determined and more than capable of unspeakable acts. His temper used to get the best of him but he has learned to get it under control, but he still needs an outlet for it. You know what his favourite outlet is of course…

It’s too easy to trawl the bars, looking handsome and sharply dressed, he has people throwing themselves at him within minutes of sitting at the bar. Its fucking pathetic, he thinks, as half drunk strangers try to get his number and into his boxers. He much prefers to hunt, to chase down and take what he wants and pour all of his frustration into a handy victim without anyone breathing down his neck. He managed to take a set of NODs from the base (had a bribe the Quartermaster with one of his trophies) which he keeps in his car for the times he sees what he needs.

This is how you came to be sprinting, eyes blinded with panic and tears, breath rasping in your throat after you lunged out of the door of the car you had been bundled into. You've got no idea where the hell you are, all you know is you don't want to be back there again. All you can hear is the harsh noise of your breathing and your pounding footsteps through the trees. You can’t hear or see Gaz in the darkness.

He is already hard as rock as he watches your ghostly form through the NODs, following the path that you can’t see and waiting for you to stumble and crash to the ground, which you do very quickly, weak thing that you are. His long legs eating up the distance between you as you scramble amongst the trees roots and sharp brambles until he grasps you by the throat, knife pricking the sensitive skin beside your eye.

“Didn’t get far, did you?” He says with that deep, velvety voice of his. It’s a voice you’d have loved to listen to under any other circumstances, but not right now. It’s mere moments before you are pinned under him, squealing and begging for mercy but only getting huffed breaths and grunts in reply until he is satiated. He knows they’ll never find you, no one has yet.

Back at base, his demons fed, he falls into easy chatter with then the rest of the team.

“Good night out, son?” Price asks him as he makes his way back into the barracks.

“Yeah, I needed that to be honest sir,” Gaz grins back, rubbing the nape of his neck to cover your nail marks.

“Nothing like good clean fun. Get some rest,” the captain replies with a warm smile, none the wiser to what his Sergeant was actually doing.

“Yes, sir,” Gaz answers and heads to his bunk to sleep soundly.

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haven-is-happy · 7 months

Text

How Battle Changes: Don't Eat That!

Chapter 7

Pairing: Dogma x Jedi!reader, platonic Wolfpack,

Chapter description: A politician's dinner is rarely without consequences

Warnings: !!!unhealthy eating habits!!!, reader has very little mental health stability, angst, reader is at their breaking point

Wordcount: 2,3 k

Masterlist

Somewhere along the line, your statements went from “mildly controversial” to “assassination worthy”.

You’re not sure when exactly that happened. You don’t care. It just means you are focusing on the right thing, pissing off the people who should be exposed the most.

The thought should be frightening.

Key word: should.

“It’s times like these that I think about my parents. My birth parents, not the parental figures of the caretakers and creche masters at the Jedi Temple. Are they still alive? Was I welcome in their family? Did they wait with bated breath until a child came, tears of joy when I first screamed my lungs out to signal I am breathing and healthy and then reluctantly given with tears to the Jedi? Or was I an intrusion, an accident, an inconvenience they gave away with a sigh of relief?”

Another scripted speech. You poured your heart out during the nights between senate meetings, because the tears that filled your eyes when you allowed yourself to ask these questions are unbecoming of a public representative.

You basically threatened your way into the senate as a representative of the clones and jedi who wish to leave the rigidity of the places they were raised in. Threatened, not elected.

You bought your presence in the chamber by keeping silent about the carnage Krell was allowed to go on, even before Umbara, keeping silent about the Senate's knowledge about the Malevolence, long before it was discovered by your former master Plo.

No tears. No weaknesses. They will tear you apart.

And so the speech continues as you swallow the most likely answer. It burns on the way down. It might burn on the way back up after you permit yourself to throw it up from stress in the “comfort” of your home.

You’ve researched. You know the sector where you most likely came from, now deep in Separatist territory, being the place of several battles at the start of the War.

“I may never know, as the Jedi Master who brought me to the temple is dead. She died on Geonosis and took dozens of secret parentages of padawans, knights and younglings to her grave. At her pyre I cried for the small child not yet outside their cradle that might never know if those that bore them love them.”

You take a steadying breath. Those wonders have long since passed.

“Perhaps it is better not knowing.”

The Senate is deadly silent to your face, but you know there are mute conversations happening in hand signals across the expansive chamber. Their auras betray even the slightest change of emotions. The colours shift and bleed into another as information is passed.

Seems like they have forgotten you can read them better than an open book.

“I know how many of you feel,” you keep a second-too-long break between the words with an emphasis, “about the Order’s practices around recruiting. The truth is the parents get a choice, having both options explained clearly as day. Give the child away so it may prosper as a part of the Order, with the promise that one day the child will be given a way to contact them, or keep the child and face the difficulties of a force-sensitive toddler reigning chaos.”

Expertly, the diplomatic skill taught at the temple made you slot a joke after threatening your audience in not-so-subtle ways. The clueless laugh. The knowing shudder.

You do not want to be seen as cruel.

But if you aren’t, it leaves room for argument.

Next to you, Dogma checks his comm.

The several months of being your guard didn’t change his face one bit. The v-shaped pattern fits well on his face, accentuated by the widow's peak he keeps his hair in. His eyes scan each individual senate-pod in his field of vision, then flick over to you. You have to remind yourself you’re in the force-damned Senate chamber in front of thousands of influential people to stop yourself from lovingly brushing a hand over his cheek.

His armour has been repainted in vibrant colours. The helmet is forgone entirely to show him being proud of being a clone. Jesse next to him is an even more stark reminder, with the republic cog tattooed onto his face.

The tactic is genius. You’ll have to thank Fives for coming up with that.

“The truth is, the vague feeling of my birth parents is no longer even a memory. Can one miss a vague shape in the back of your mind? When you can’t articulate yourself in childhood, maybe, but as an adult, it is but a shape you will gradually forget with age.”

“Clones, however, never had that shape. Many of us have a warm feeling as the first memory of our parents. Being held, coddled and even loved. But the clones didn’t get that luxury. Forgive me for being a cynic, but if you have a problem with the Order’s practices of child-kidnapping - as I heard many put it - why are you not fighting for the clones to have an equal privilege to childhood?”

Your voice rings powerful and accusatory through the full auditorium. You sweep your eyes over the people at your eye level and below, before solidly locking them where Bail Organa stands in his senator-pod. He sends a nod.

Dogma next to you makes a very quiet sound, pitched low just enough for you and only you to hear. He clicks his tongue once, then pauses, and then clicks again.

A signal for news from the Wolfpack. Thank the Force your speech and time at the proverbial stand is coming to an end.

The entire interaction takes no more than three seconds. An uncomfortable silence to marinate most careless Senators in the implications you’ve made.

“My childhood was cut short after the hostilities on Naboo. I had to undergo more rigorous saber training, even as an empath, someone attuned to the living Force around us. A shadow warrior - a Sith of a lineage long-lost - stole any ability to live as a simple aura reader diplomat.”

“And yet that’s not even a fraction of the cruelty and hardship an average clone trooper goes through in a third of the time. As soon as they walk, they are taught combat. They rapidly age, Corellian Hells, THE OLDEST CLONES ARE THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!”

Your frustration poured out into the air around you. This is the closest you have gotten to yelling and losing your cool since you walked out of the Court Chamber at Dogma’s trial. You have no doubt that at least some of the senators or their aides must have a fraction of force sensitivity, at least enough to glimpse the carefully-masked rage you don’t let the average person see.

You lock eyes with the Chancellor on his high seat, the senator-pod that hovers in the centre of the chamber.

You stare at him with intensity unknown to an individual outside of the Jedi Order. Memories flick through your vision, a slideshow of your frustrations at the Senate, frustration shared by the Jedi Council, by your father Plo, by the Clones that have welcomed you into their dysfunctional humongous family.

The Chancellor smiles.

The dinner after resembles a blur of colours too bright to be real.

You barely eat. The worry of poison and backstabbing are ever present, loom over your figure like a mountain. You prod at the force to give you readings of everyone around you, even if they are in your eyesight for a fraction of a second.

The auras are overwhelming. Despite diplomats being taught to never let emotion show on their face, the different hues bleed into their body language.

One can only hide their true nature for so long, you suppose.

You’re sitting at the head of the table for dinner, the centre of attention as usual. As the minutes tick by, it’s become more and more likely that this will not end well. The jabs and replies thrown at one another have a sickly-sweet tone, with oleander-filled honey dripping as they fly at their target.

Dogma and Jesse stand behind you, each on one side as your guards. No matter how many times you try to convince them to eat with you, they insist.

“The life of a senator isn’t for me, but I still want to keep you safe” has been the reply from Jesse each time. Fives is just glad you never asked him, letting him instead stay at your apartment for these drab meetings disguised as dinners.

And your sweet Dogma would follow you to the ends of the Galaxy.

“I suppose if the children had more contact with their parents after getting accepted into the order, they would be able to form healthy attachments, as opposed to having no attachments altogether,” you say to a Nautolan representative sitting half across the table.

She narrows her eyes and nods, pausing to eat a bite out of her meal. “A friend of mine lost her son to the Jedi three decades ago. She still wonders why he never contacted her.”

Dogma searches in his memory. The only nautolan jedi he has heard of is Kit Fisto. It would perhaps fit the description of a son lost thirty years ago. He stores it as something to ask you about.

A mikkian senator sitting to your left looks over at your plate. The longer the supper goes on, the more apparent it is that you are not touching your food. The senator, some generation or two older than you, looks you over a bit before lowering his voice, so that only you and (unintentionally) Dogma can make out his words.

“Deary, you have not touched your meal. I sure do hope this affair has not sullied your appetite.” He adds a smile at the end of his statement, as if to deepen the few wrinkles his face has to make himself the caring older relative.

Your attention snaps to his face briefly, enough to not notice one of his head-tendrils outside your field of vision to twitch in the general direction of your plate. Had Dogma not been inadvertently alerted to his figure, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny amount of clear, water-like liquid that flew off the tip of his head-tendril and landed at the edge of your plate.

He reacts before his brain catches up to his eyes.

“Don’t eat that!”

His yell makes the entire table stop whatever they are doing to look at him.

“The food is poisoned!”

His aura flashes red with swirls of white. The mix of danger.

Jesse sweeps the room over in less than a millisecond and directs his gaze at your food. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but he trusts his brother with your safety above all. He takes a half-step closer towards the table.

You strategically stand up slowly and turn to Dogma. “How do you know?”

“The mikkian senator flicked some liquid into it with his head-tendril.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the whole room shift. Colours turn muted and tinged with yellow, orange and black.

The aura of the person in question turns a stark black. Fear.

“Impossible! I have done no such thing, clone!” he barks out and gets to his feet abruptly, nearly throwing his chair back.

Jesse, who has so far been stone-cold, willing to not react unless necessary, calmly looks him boldly in his eyes, an act that would have had consequences if he was in the GAR.

“You should know that ambassador (Y/N) can tell if you’re lying,” his tone is even and calculated.

“Of course I know that! That’s because I’m not lying.”

The old man is adamant, even if his eyes widen a fraction.

Your eyes flick over the room and land on a tray in the corner, on a table reserved for decorational flowers.

The tray floats over as the uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Some of the dinner’s participants notice it and gasp, making the others stare in horror as the tray lands in front of you.

You vaguely feel the presence of three Coruscant Guards running down the hall. By the time you land a metal food cover over the plate, they slam the door of the dining room open.

Jesse and Dogma exchange a nod and Dogma nods. Jesse walks out to meet one of the troopers to exchange words. You barely hear the words they whisper, but “poison” and “food” must be at least a part of the conversation. Dogma stays right behind you with a hand on his blaster. You don’t even have to turn to feel his anxiousness.

On instinct, you reach out with the hand that isn’t holding the tray in the air to grip the senator by the wrist with the Force. You press harder and hear something drop to the floor, an item no longer held in an iron grip he had on it. The noises of protests fall upon your deaf ears.

A guard moves in to handcuff the old man, only to notice a blaster on the floor and feel resistance while he moves one of the wrists into the cuffs. The item he dropped.

Jesse, now returning to you, plucks the tray out of the air to bring it back to one of the clones.

You let go of the Force and feel a massive weight of exhaustion hit you. Tilting your hand back just a couple of centimetres is enough for Dogma to grip it tightly with the palm not on his weapon.

You look at the Coruscant Guard talking to Jesse. His aura is full of baby blue and camo green. Confusion and worry.

“Please, take the food with the plate for analysis. Don’t touch it or take it out of the cover unless you are in safe distance. I don’t know what it is,” you say slowly. The words coming out of you feel foreign and you have to push them out, too exhausted to expend any emotions into the tone.

Dogma squeezes your hand three times. An “I love you” for when you can’t speak.

When you leave the dinner behind and get into your personal speeder, you pass out from exhaustion.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#star wars #star wars x reader #the clone wars #tcw dogma #dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma #clone wars x reader #clone x reader #clone x reader bingo

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lady-wallace · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 30 - "Creature Comforts" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

A wholesome one for today's @whumptober fic

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Prompt Used: Borrowed Cloathing Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Characters: Team Bucciarati

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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1: Abbacchio

Bruno Bucciarati had seen a lot of desperate men in his line of work, but few who looked as depressing as Leone Abbacchio, standing in the foyer of his apartment, soaked to the skin and dripping like a stray cat.

"You can shower if you'd like—there might still be hot water this time of night," Bruno told him, tucking the umbrella beside the door. "I'll find you something dry to wear."

The man shook himself and nodded, taking a hesitant step toward the bathroom door as Bucciarati pointed it out.

One he had provided him with a towel and showed him how the shower worked, Bruno hurried to his room and tried to find something for their guest to wear that might actually fit—Fugo definitely wouldn't have anything.

Bruno sighed, rummaging through his drawers, pulling out a pair of sweat pants that were slightly long on him and a plain t-shirt.

It was then he found the lump in the back of his drawer, fingers tangling in soft knitted cables. He hesitated slightly, but pulled the sweater out, holding it up. It was still definitely too big for Bruno, always had been.

Part of him wanted to put it back in the drawer and keep it for himself, but his father had also instilled in him the importance of helping those in need. So, Bruno would pass it on to someone more in need than him.

When he heard the water turn off in the bathroom, he knocked on the door. "I'm leaving some clothes out here for you. You can come to the kitchen when you're done and I'll get you something to eat."

He set the stack of clothing down and headed to the kitchen to start making some coffee. Even he was chilled after being out that night and he'd remembered the umbrella.

It was a few more minutes before Abbacchio showed up with wet hair and the too-short sweatpants. The sweater however—a dark blue wool with chunky cabling down the front and an open ribbed collar—fit him just about right. If not slightly long in the sleeves.

"Can I get you some coffee?" Bruno asked.

Abbacchio winced, still standing there as if unsure of what to do. "I—thanks, sure," he mumbled. "Thanks for the clothes too. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's not a problem," Bruno assured him as he went to fill a cup. "Cream or sugar?"

Abbacchio shook his head. Bruno set the cup on the table, urging him to sit down. Abbacchio took a hesitant step before he finally took a seat, tugging at the sweater. "This is really nice, I'll get it back to you once I can get back to my apartment tomorrow."

Bruno hesitated, but finally waved his hand. "Keep it. It was always too big on me anyway, and I'm sure you could use some warmer clothes? Besides, wool keeps you warm even when its wet So if you forget an umbrella again…"

Abbacchio looked up at him with some confusion for a long moment before he pulled the cup of coffee closer and took a sip. "Okay then. Thanks. I appreciate it."

Bruno smiled back and decided he was glad that the sweater would finally get some use.

2. Fugo

It had been a long stakeout in the cold. Stealth had prohibited them from turning the heater on in the car, and Abbacchio felt pretty terrible seeing just how much Fugo was shivering by the time they finished, the drive home with the heater on full blast hadn't even been enough to thaw either of them out.

Not to mention that their heater wasn't functioning fantastically in the apartment either, so it wasn't much warmer there.

"I'll make some tea, you should go get something warm on," Abbacchio told the kid worriedly. Fugo was so skinny that Abbacchio was afraid he might catch cold—though he would never say that to Fugo's face unless he wanted his nose broken.

He went to throw on a sweatshirt and thick socks before he started boiling some water.

Fugo showed up in a few minutes, still shivering, in a long-sleeved shirt with a thin cardigan over it and a pair of sweat pants.

Abbacchio eyed him briefly, but didn't want to embarrass the kid by asking him if he was warm enough. He simply took out two mugs and some tea bags and poured the water over them when it started to boil.

"Want to work on the report together?" Abbacchio asked him.

"Sure," Fugo replied, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He went to get paper and pen and Abbacchio sat down with his notebook where he had written down observations and snatches of conversation that night.

The tea worked to warm Abbacchio's core and he got to work compiling info with Fugo for their report.

He reached for a pen at the same time Fugo reached for his tea and Abbacchio's hand brushed his, feeling like ice.

"Jesus, kid," he hissed, pulling his hand away sharply. "You're actually freezing!"

Fugo glowered, hunching his shoulders as he pulled his hands back and clasped them around his mug, still shaking every once in a while. "It is freezing in here, you know."

"Don't you have anything warmer to wear?" Abbacchio asked genuinely.

"Nothing comfortable," Fugo huffed. "Just my overcoat."

Abbacchio frowned and stood up. "Hold on, I'll be back."

He went to rummage around in his closet, trying to find something warm for Fugo to wear. That was when he spotted the dark blue sweater. He'd almost forgotten about it—the one Bucciarati had given him the first night he'd dragged him back to this apartment. That would be warm enough.

Abbacchio brought it back out and handed it over to Fugo. "Here, try this."

Fugo took the sweater, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he tugged it on and pushed the sleeves up over his hands. Abbacchio watched as his shivering finally stopped all together and Fugo let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thanks. That is better."

"No problem," Abbacchio replied and nodded to the sweater. "You can keep that too, it was just something Bucciarati gave me. You'll need it if the heater doesn't get fixed soon."

Fugo offered a very small smile, huddling into the sweater as they continued with their work.

3. Narancia

"I'm…so sorry."

"Just shut up," Fugo snapped, feeling mud squelch in his shoes—they were probably ruined by now. But at least the mud had been relegated to his lower half. Narancia was practically covered in it. He didn't even realize you could find that much mud within the city limits but any calamity seemed possible with their new recruit around.

He fumbled his keys out of his pocket and opened the apartment up, cringing at the thought of all the mud they were about to track inside. The car was already a disaster.

"Just don't touch anything you don't have to," Fugo muttered.

Narancia tip-toed delicately into the apartment after ditching his shoes by the door.

"Probably the best thing is to dump the muddy clothes into the bathtub so we can rinse them out before putting them into the washing machine," Fugo said.

"Uh, yeah okay," Narancia replied. "But, um, problem—I don't have anything else to wear. I left my wash in the washing machine and I only have my pajamas pants.

Fugo sighed tiredly. "Just…throw your stuff into the tub and I'll loan you something to wear."

Narancia perked up and Fugo hurried to dump his clothes in the bathroom, washing briefly before grabbing a towel to wrap around himself to go find something clean to wear.

He dressed quickly, hearing Narancia swearing as he struggled with his mud-covered clothes then turned with a sigh to his dresser, digging around for something Narancia could wear.

A bundle of dark wool caught his eye and he pulled the sweater out, remembering how Abbacchio had given it to him when he had been freezing that one night. It had kept him warm through the winter, but he could do with passing it on now, especially since Narancia really didn't have that many clothes.

He grabbed a pair of his sweatpants as well and set the neatly folded pile outside the bathroom door.

"Clothes are outside," he said before going to make a call to Bucciarati to tell him the mission was finished.

He was just grabbing the laundry basket in prep to take the clothes down to the washers when Narancia reappeared, practically swimming in the sweater, sleeves slipping down over his hands. But he was grinning, waving the floppy sleeves around.

"Dude this is so cozy! Thanks for loaning it to me."

"Oh, you can keep it actually," Fugo replied. "Abbacchio gave it to me so…it's not really mine."

"Really? Thanks man!" Narancia hurried off as Fugo yelled at his back.

"Narancia get back here! You have to go finish your own laundry—I'm not going to do it for you!"

Narancia hurried back and grabbed the basket from Fugo. "Yeah, yeah, I'll meet you down there."

Fugo shook his head and went to gather the muddy stuff before he realized Narancia had run off with the laundry basket.

4. Mista

Narancia wasn't entirely sure what to think of the new guy yet. He'd been nice enough if not a little out of place with all of them, and Narancia didn't exactly understand why he hated the number 4 so much but he wasn't one to judge.

Still, Guido Mista had a habit of moping around when he wasn't given a task. Narancia could understand that. He'd been the same after getting out of prison. It was hard to adjust back to normal living when you'd had your days so regimented for a long time.

Narancia was currently relegated to the apartment due to a minor injury and that day it was just him and Mista there. The new recruit puttered around in the kitchen getting coffee for a while in the morning before he sat on the old couch in the living room, staring at the wall.

It was…kind of driving Narancia nuts. He didn't understand how someone could sit still like that doing nothing. At least Fugo was usually reading, he could understand that; even if reading didn't keep Narancia's attention for long, it was still doing something.

He didn't want to be annoying, but he poked his head into the living room.

"Hey, um, can I do anything for you?"

Mista looked up. "Nah. I'm good."

Narancia fidgeted. "Aren't you like…bored?"

Mista shrugged. "I don't know. It's just nice to be out of prison." He stood up. "I guess I'd like to take a shower though."

Narancia nodded and went to make lunch as he heard the shower running. Mista returned when he was halfway through eating in just his pajama bottoms and a towel slung over his shoulders.

"Hey, um…I still need to go shopping for some new clothes. Could I borrow some change so I can do a wash?"

"Oh sure," Narancia said quickly and pointed over to a jar on the counter. "Bucciarati keeps that for laundry and stuff."

"Thanks." Mista said and hurried out of the apartment.

Narancia thought about what he had said, and got up to head to his room. He grabbed a box of VHS tapes from under his bed and rummaged in his drawer until he found the oversized sweater he was looking for.

When Mista returned, Narancia tossed him the sweater.

"Here! You can have this for now," he said.

Mista held the sweater up, surprised. "Oh, hey, thanks man. I really appreciate it."

He slipped it on, tugging it down. "This is really nice. You sure you want me to have this?"

Narancia nodded. "It kinda gets passed around between us. You can use it for as long as you want. But only if you answer a question."

Mista cocked an eyebrow as Narancia presented the box he had been holding under his arm. "Do you like movies?"

Mista's face lit up. "I love movies! Hey, you got some great stuff in here!"

"Then let's watch something! Then you don't have to just sit around doing nothing all day," Narancia said. "Pick whatever you want, I'll grab some snacks."

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies and chatting and Narancia thought that he and the new guy were probably going to get along really well.

5. Giorno

Mista roamed the safehouse after everyone had gone to sleep, making sure everyone was okay. He checked in on Narancia last, but the kid was sleeping soundly, knocked out from pain pills and exhausted from his still-healing body. He'd been able to leave their makeshift infirmary yesterday though so he was doing a lot better.

Speaking of…

Mista headed down the stairs to the guest room they had made into their designated infirmary while their teammates were recovering. Bucciarati and Abbacchio were still usually unconscious and hooked up to IVs aside from a few times they had woken.

Giorno was sitting beside Bucciarati's bed as Mista figured he would be. The blond had been watching tirelessly since they had gotten to the house three days ago and had barely left the room.

He looked up briefly as Mista poked his head in.

"Hey, can I get you anything?"

Giorno shook his head, reaching up to rub his face. "No. I'm okay."

Mista nodded slowly, taking in Giorno's exhausted frame. "You really should sleep. They'll be okay for the night. They're stable, right?"

"Yeah, I just…" Giorno sighed, before he finally stood up. "Maybe you're right. I'll catch a couple hours on the couch."

Mista frowned as Giorno passed him, noticing that he was still wearing the same lavender suit he had been wearing the whole mission. It had the look of being washed, water thinned bloodstains visible around a couple tears, but Mista realized he'd never seen Giorno put on anything else.

"Hey, um…you want me to wash and fix that suit?" Mista asked. "I think there's a sewing kit somewhere. At least until you can get a new one?"

Giorno looked down at the suit. "I, um…I don't really have anything else to wear."

"Oh." Mista blinked and then realized Giorno hadn't brought so much as a backpack with him. "Hey, I'm sorry man, I should have asked earlier."

Giorno shrugged. "It's not really a big deal. I'll get something soon."

"No way, you need to be comfortable. Stay here, I'll be right back."

Mista hurried up to his room and dug through his duffle bag until he found—ah, there it was.

He took the bundled sweater and a pair of sweatpants down to Giorno, dropping them into his arms.

"Keep these. I've got more changes of clothes."

Giorno smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mista. I really appreciate it."

Mista gave him a salute and a grin. "Anytime. How about I make you a cup of tea? I was just gonna get one myself."

"Sure."

Mista headed to the kitchen and by the time he got to the living room Giorno was curled on the couch, bundled into the big sweater, fast asleep.

Mista chuckled and set Giorno's mug down on the coffee table before throwing a blanket over him.

"Sleep well, GioGio."

6. Trish

Giorno was up late reading one night when he heard the back patio door open and shut. It was right below his bedroom and he had his window open. He figured someone might just be getting some fresh air, but then he heard the soft, unmistakable sounds of someone crying and frowned, getting up to go see what might be wrong.

He pulled on the heavy sweater Mista had given him and padded downstairs and toward the back of the house.

Through the glass door he could see Trish huddled on the steps leading into the garden, shoulders shaking. Giorno hesitated a second, not sure if he would be intruding or not, but he ultimately decided that Trish shouldn't have to be alone if she was upset and if it turned out she really wanted him to leave, he would go.

He stepped outside, the sound of the door opening causing Trish to turn around, hurriedly wiping her eyes.

"Oh, hey," she said quietly.

Giorno silently went to sit next to her. "Hey. Are you okay?" he asked.

Trish looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I…I guess."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't really look okay," Giorno responded. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Trish took a shuddering breath and scrubbed a hand against her wet eyes. "It's just…Now that everything's settled down it's kind of hitting me, you know? That I'm not going home—that I don't even have a home anymore."

"I know it's a lot," Giorno said quietly. "I didn't…really have anything to leave, but I can understand how you must feel, being forced to leave everything."

Trish sniffed. "And I miss my mom. I didn't even really have the time to mourn her, so…I guess it's all hitting now, three months later."

She curled around herself, shaking slightly, breath hitching.

Giorno didn't know if she was cold or not, but the weight of the sweater was comforting to him so he tugged it off and looped it over Trish's head.

She looked up in surprise, before a small smile turned up one corner of her lips as she sniffed. "Thanks." She tucked her arms into the sleeves, letting them fall past her hands as she dabbed her eyes on the sweater.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Giorno told her quietly. "But you're wrong, you know."

Trish sniffed again. "About what?" she asked sounding slightly offended.

"That you don't have a home," Giorno replied, nodding back to the house. "This is your home. It's all of our home, and you never need to go anywhere else unless you want to."

Trish looked at him for a long moment, eyes wavering, before she simply leaned forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Giorno that's…that's such a sweet thing to say," she said shakily.

Giorno smiled, hugging her back, letting her cry for a few more minutes before she pulled away and wiped at her eyes again.

"Thank you, that…I feel better now," she said.

"I'm glad," Giorno replied. "I'm always here to talk if you need."

"I appreciate it," Trish said as she stood. "Thanks for letting me borrow the sweater too. It's…really comforting."

Giorno waved his hand as he also stood. "Keep it for now. Mista gave it to me when we first got here, but you should use it now."

Trish smiled with a grateful blush and waved to him as they got inside. "Good night, Giorno. And thanks again."

"Good night, Trish."

7. Bucciarati

Trish was having a hard time sleeping that night and decided to run down to the library to grab something to read.

She had thought everyone had already gone to bed, so she was surprised to find Bucciarati sitting in there in the middle of the floor in his pajamas, a box of photos open and spread in front of him.

He startled as she walked in and Trish stopped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were up."

A look passed over his face and Bucciarati cleared his throat and said, "It's okay. Can't sleep?"

Trish shook her head, feeling a little like she was intruding as she cautiously stepped into the room. "Not really. You either?"

Bruno gave her a small, sad smile. "Just…looking through some old memories."

Curious, Trish came over and knelt beside him. "May I?"

Bruno waved a hand and Trish picked up a picture of a young boy holding a large fish up proudly. His black hair and blue eyes told Trish that it was obviously the man beside her.

"This was you?" she asked with a smile. "You were adorable!"

Bruno let out a light laugh. "Thank you. It was… a long time ago. I…haven't looked at these for a while but…"

There was a weight to his words and Trish watched him carefully, finally realizing that his eyes were slightly red, the lashes damp as if he had been crying.

"Bucciarati? Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat again. "I'll be okay, Trish. I…it's been four years today since he died. I just thought…I would take a moment to remember him."

"Oh, Bucciarati, I didn't know," Trish said softly, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing.

"I usually keep it to myself," Bruno replied simply.

Trish was silent, wondering if he wanted to be alone, but, she thought about how she felt when she remembered her mom. How alone it felt. And it was too sad to think of going to bed when Bucciarati was sitting here alone with the pictures of his past.

"Would it…be okay if I stayed here to look at the pictures with you?" Trish asked hesitantly. "Unless you'd rather be alone."

"I wouldn't actually," Bucciarati replied, voice slightly raw.

Trish felt a little relieved, but stood. "Okay, I'll be right back, I promise."

She hurried away to make some hot chocolate, and as an afterthought, ran to get the sweater Giorno had loaned her a while back when had had found her crying. She always put it on when she was feeling bad now and thought that maybe it would comfort Bucciarati too.

She brought the items back to the library and Bucciarati looked up in surprise.

"I made hot chocolate—thought you could use some," she told him with a small smile, setting down the mugs before holding out the sweater. "And this. It's so warm and cozy it…"

She trailed off at the look on Bruno's face when he saw the sweater, eyes wide, mouth parted as if in awe.

"Bucciarati?"

He reached out to take it from her, holding it carefully in his hands, fingers curling into the chunky knitting.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Um…well, Giorno gave it to me, he said Mista gave it to him before that."

Bruno laughed lightly, eyes wet. "And I gave it to Abbacchio a long time ago." He turned to Trish with a small smile. "It was my father's. I had…actually forgotten about it but it seems to have made its way through the team somehow."

"And back to you," Trish replied. "Where it should be."

Bruno slowly tugged the sweater on over his t-shirt, running his fingers over the hem, eyes full of nostalgia. "Funny how things have a way of coming full circle when it means the most." He turned back to her, eyes wet. "Thank you, Trish."

Trish couldn't help herself and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly in the comfy sweater. "I'm glad it came back to you when you needed it most," she told him.

"It did. But anyone is welcome to borrow it at any time," Bruno said. "Perhaps it's best that it belongs to all of us." He smiled "I think that's what my father would have wanted."

Trish hugged him more firmly and genuinely felt at home.

~~~~~~~

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