bloodline. ateez x reader

|1.| was is it fate?

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of violence

It's not your fault. It never was; this could've happened to anyone. Anyone in the world could've been in your position, but it's like they all say- you were just at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

And now you're being carried on the back of a murderer, along with his friends of infamous serial killers, your mind fading in and out of consciousness. For the little time, you are awake, the world is spinning and all you see are the blood-stained shoes of the boy behind you. The only thing you can hear is the crunching of leaves and twigs under their dark boots, and the obnoxious croaking of the crows circling above the group. Every time you stirred awake you felt sudden drowsiness take over you once more. You dangled off of the first boy's back, arms restricted as your hands were tied to your back.

You groaned slightly, but even that took so much energy to do, you couldn't fathom thinking about screaming for help. The world around you was deathly quiet, the solemn breeze pushing lightly against your face and your hair tickling your cheek. A couple of feet away from you, someone was humming in a direction you could not see. The song was unfamiliar, but the voice behind it was.

⤜⚘⤛

"That's it?" Asked the girl at the front desk. You nodded, digging out the credit card you had in your back pocket. The cashier put the things into a plastic bag and slid it across the counter to you, printing out your receipt. You took it and left immediately, not willing to dwell any longer.

You had things to do. You debated even getting out of bed to come here, but you decided that your common cold wouldn't stop you from enjoying the perks of staying home today. You had taken the day off because you rarely got sick, and now was the one time you could use the excuse on your boss. Today, you planned on focusing on yourself. Life had been suffocating you too much lately, you deserved this.

And hence why your appearance had little to no effort put in. Literally, you were wearing sweatpants and a crop top under an oversized hoodie that ran down to your thighs. Your hair was carelessly thrown over your shoulders and you wore a face mask, an attempt to show people that today, you truly were not to be fucked with.

It wasn't a very busy day, most adults were at work and teenagers were at school on this lousy Tuesday morning. Looking around, the only people you could see were retired elderly or stay-at-home moms, only the occasional middle-aged person sprinkled among the crowd. It was a bright day, the windows at the tip of the ceiling let in a lot of natural light.

You had not gotten 20 feet away from the store when a chorus of synchronized gunshots and screams echoed throughout the small mall. You turned your head and looked in horror at the figure of a tall man dressed in all black holding up a pistol. He was standing over a dead body, the gun in his hands still pointed at the corpse. Even from where you were standing with his back turned from you, you could tell he held a crazed smile.

You turned again and looked around the scene, the calm before the storm. There had to be at least four of them, all wearing black with guns in their hands, though, some of them wore black masks to cover their face. After another moment of stillness, they turned and started shooting any witnesses that moved.

It was a massacre, people were screaming and running, mothers trying hopelessly to protect their families as the men started pacing around, pointing the weapons and pulling the trigger, not once wasting a bullet.

Having watched too many shows and read too many books, you knew you had to make a choice. Stay and help the people around you fight to their deaths, or run and save yourself.

As gunshot after gunshot rang in your ears, you didn't get to decide. Instinct stepped in and saved you from hesitation, you dropped your shit and ran. Not towards the exit; you were too smart for that. Like hell they'd leave an exit unguarded, the last thing they wanted was a survivor.