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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

Text

"I guess I'm not used to the

silence

Chapter 4

1/2

Me and My Husband

Wade took 'I fucked the reaper' too seriously. And now he's dead.

Cw: Death, Descriptions of pain, Voices, Character death, Depictions of Heaven, Hell and the Universe, child death.

An apology post

Some asshole always told him… The end of one thing leads to the start of the beginning. Who was that you might ask? Some strange doctor guy who absolutely was kookoo bananas. That's who.

Though.. He was right.

Wade gasps loudly, shifting to sit up. It's bright. Too bright. Lifting a hand to cover the sunlight through the clouds, he rolled his eyes. “Oh no fucking way.. I'm not going to heaven! None of my friends will be there- HA! Oscar Wilde. Man.. what a riot that guy was-”

“Wade.”

A voice says, a figure blocking the sun, the light wrapping around her to make her look ethereal.

“Oh, damn. An angel.” He mutters, realizing that he could talk again, hand coming to his throat as he rubbed it gently. A sigh of relief washes over him as he had his skin back. His true self. Scarred permanently.

She waits patiently for a couple of minutes, letting him steal a few breaths, allowing him to feel all over himself, checking to see if his toes were broken again, rubbing his legs and his arms, and patting his cheeks. This was normal for those who finally got to pass. Especially if in such pain when they left. Her soon to be husband was no exception.

“Not quite, sweetheart.” She whispers, smiling down at him. The true, original angel of death.

Wade squints, then gasps, reaching up to the cloaked woman. “My lady!! Hey babe! What's shakin’? Hopefully your boney ass.”

She chuckles, shaking her head softly. “As much as I do enjoy your playful attempts to initiate, now is not the time for that, my love.”

He frowns “Aw.. why not?” He looks at her like a child pouting, not wanting to leave the park despite the park being closed after a long day.

“Do you know what you just did?” She questions, shifting to sit close to him in the yellow grain.

“Died?” This was obviously A no brainer. He only got to see her after that. That was kkiiinndd of their whole thing.

“Yes but.. Look.” She gestures around them.

The skies were dark, the fields went for miles, the sun only lighting the clouds enough to shine down on them both as he could see a thunderstorm rolling in from the distance, hot flashes of lightning appearing over them once in a while. The storm looked as if it were coming closer, but the wind was changing directions, softly blowing the wheat in all different ways. The storm was metaphorical Wade guessed, how death was always in view, waiting for you. The whole place was absolutely gloomsville. Like a tornado coming and wiping through all you could see, leaving nothing but ruins and godlike light to flow over all who survived.

“It's beautiful.. but you've never brought me here before.”

His Lady says nothing, grinning gently as she lets him figure it out for himself. He's waited far too long for this, there was no point in stealing his thunder. Besides, watching him go through the phases of thinking was always adorable. He was so expressive, each look causing you to guess what he was thinking.

Finally, he gasped again. A eureka moment.

“Wait wait wait… so… I'm dead? Like.. actually dead?? I did it!? I died!?” In almost all of her time doing this, she has never once found anyone so excited to see her, let alone ecstatic for her to bring him home then Wade Winston Wilson. In all of the universe, he had to be one of her favorites. There were others sure, just as Wade had his others, but he would jump into her arms the moment she arrived.

Not cry and shoo her away. Beg her for more time or call her the devil. She was tired of being screamed at. Tired of people calling her cruel. She wasn't cruel. If she was cruel, would she have taken Wade before he could drown in his own internal blood? Before his body failed him? If she was cruel like they said, why would she comfort each and every person she must take? Why would she bother speaking to them so softly and kindly answer the questions that they had for her?

“Yes, darling!” She matched his excitement, as she often did when deserved. He grabs her hands, holding them lovingly as he smiles widely. “Fucking Finally!! You look different though..”

“This is my domain so this is my body.” She says to him, allowing Wade to take her hand, kissing it as he always did. Each knuckle got their own kiss, as he said ‘They got lonely.’ Which was physically impossible because knuckles were not sentient. What a goofball.

Once each knuckle was kissed, he glanced up at her with a sneaky smile. “So If im picking up what you're lying down- in which I most certainly will… Your ass is in fact.. not.. boney anymore?”

“Would you like to find out?” She asks, giving him those teasing eyes.

“Well yeah that's why I asked…Oh..OH- You mean? Fuck yes! I love that and we'll get to that later, I definitely won't forget but.. do you like your new body?” He asks, by now having subconsciously began to pluck the wheat, beginning to braid it together. He always did like making her flower crowns, even if they died the moment they touched her.

Now, It wasn’t often someone took Death aback, But I suppose she chose him as her eternal partner for a reason. “Do I.. like my body?”

“Yeah” He says casually, tying off part of the wheat crown. “I've never liked mine much but.. I think I do now. And you don't have to change yourself for me. I meant what I said.” There was a pause as he strung the end through the tie he made. “I'd fuck you bones and all..” It was a quiet whisper. Intimate. A mutter under his breath as if it were common sense. None different than saying peaches were pink, the mirroring color of her cheeks.

Blinking, she thought for a second. No one has ever asked Death if she enjoyed her own appearance. Let alone someone who has been so desperate to hold her since- well since they first met.

“..Do you not like it?” She asks, confused. Now, Death knew she was extremely beautiful. Either way. But she thought Wade would be all over her by now. Why was he so… Calm..?

“That's not what I asked, M’lady. I asked If you like yourself. Not if I do. But yes, I think you're smokin’ either way, babe.” Wade's head was quiet. Focused. Attention fully on her.

Death is quiet too. Thinking.

He hums to fill the silence. A soft melody.

Death wonders, she knew Wade was quite the romantic, gentlemanly even, but he seemed different. He seemed… Cared for.

In a way she didn't remember providing.

“Yes..”

“Yes that you like your body?”

She nods. “I do..”

He smiles at her, widely with those big white eyes of his. They reflected the sun perfectly, reminding her of pearls from the ocean. Reaching up, He puts the crown on her, watching as it wilts before putting his fingers together like a camera. “Perfect…stunning. Give me a pose!”

Have you ever seen Death blush? Wade has. Very often in fact. She looks down, embarrassed before shifting, leaning back on her arms, tugging up her robe a bit.

“Gorgeous. The camera loves ya, Darlin’!” He teases playfully, snapping a few imaginary photos before she sighs, staring at him with this sense of serenity. How could anyone hurt someone so sweet..? How could they? She was fully aware of Wade's work. She respected it highly for obvious reasons, but even out of work, he made her feel… Mushy.

Warm.

Like she was alive. It was disgusting..retched, foul..

And she wanted more of it.

“How long have we known each other, Wade?” She asks, watching as he starts on his own crown, pulling his legs up to focus, his tongue poking out the same way he used to in special ops when they put him on sniper.

“I wanna say almost 20 years. But I have a feeling you're going to tell me longer.”

She nods, shifting to lean against him. “Much longer. Closer to 30 now if we're going by earth time.”

“Oh yeah? But I thought..” he tries to recall how old he was when they first met, how old he was now, and wondered how old she was. A small giggle came from him. Man she must be a cougar by now, huh? There's no way she was anywhere near an appropriate age for him. Oh well... Logan wasn't either.

“I have known you since you threw that grenade at me.” She whispers.

“Oh yeaahh! I remember that. I could never forget those eyes…I thought it would be a good idea.”

“Wade.. You thought it would be a good idea to throw a grenade at me, tackle me out of the way, and then present the pull tab to me as a ring?”

He shrugs. “Still sounds romantic to me.”

She chuckles, putting her hand in front of his face as he finally notices the ring.

He pauses in disbelief. “.. is..”

“It's the same one.”

“Does that mean I've been married for 30 years!?” He says, Groaning, then pouting.

“Oh mann!! My marriage isn't even legal!?”

“Mmh…engaged..actually.” She wanted to tell him No. That his marriage on earth was not valid, jealous that Logan got to marry him first. She's already taken Vanessa for that same reason but thought this was too cruel. But… She thought he's been through enough today. “It's different.” Death admits. “The universe doesn't have laws to capitalize on Love.”

“Fuck yeah! I love the universe!”

She lets out a giggle, before sighing, enjoying her time with him. By now he would have gone back. It felt amazing to actually have him. To hold him. For him to be hers once and for all.

Though.. something seemed off. He was thinking about something. She knew he was. He was too quiet. “...Most.. people.. have questions by now.” She says, slowly.

Wade nods. “I know..” It's barely a whisper.

She frowns, sitting back up. “What's wrong?”

He shakes his head, dismissively. “Nothing I just.. I guess I'm not used to the silence..”

“It is very peaceful here.” She says, watching as he finishes his wheat crown, putting it on with a wide smile. “What do you think?”

“I think..” She runs her hand down his arm, to his leg. “You look like a prince.”

“Oh, My dear you seem to have forgotten. If you're my Queen, then that makes me King.”

“Mmmmh no.”

“Alright then. Prince it is.” He agrees, instantly submitting to the idea of not being a king. It was far too much work anyway. He preferred to sit around and look pretty, let his Queen do all the work.

Over the course of 2 weeks.. at least… Wade thought so, not actually sure how long it's been but it felt close to that- They got married. Moved into her home, learned a lot about down here, and overall was happy. This entire time he hasn't felt an ounce of unwanted pain, feeling her nails scratching his back but other than that? No. His skin didn't itch, his bones didn't ache, he could even eat whatever he wanted without throwing it back up. Lady said that by rights he shouldn't be able to eat here but she made an exception.

He felt... normal.

It was gross.

Between tackling her in the field, the bed, the couch, and anywhere else she gave him a small tease, he was currently on his stomach, drawing a picture of them getting married, except he was the one being carried in a white dress.

It's been like this for a bit. She would go out for work and he would lounge around the house. There wasn't much to clean or cook so he just did little things like go outside, gather up more flowers and bring them back in to put in the vase, watching them die the moment he set them down. “Hm… Well that sucks. Oh well.” He'd say. He'd go through the closet of clothes, trying them on and seeing which he preferred, meeting her each evening to ask how her day has been, tell her what he did, and ask if there was anything else he could do for her.

Usually, the answer was no, but today she was holding something in her arms.

“Whatcha got there, gorgeous?” Wade hums, getting up as he brings the drawing to the fridge, pinning it with a magnet shaped like a taco.

“A baby.”

“Aww- wait- is he mine!? I thought that took longer!? And why is he so big? You know what, nevermind I don't care. Gimme gimme gimme!” He gasps at first, eyes lighting up with excitement as he puts his arms out.

“He's not yours Wade.”

“Aw shucks. We'll have to fix that later. As for now- Give!”

“He has to go,Wade.”

“I know!”

“So you can not get attached to him. Understand? His life is over.”

She of all people has overlooked him for decades now? Watching his heart swell 6 times its size the first time he even saw Vanessa let alone all those other small things.. between Theresa and those guys in the army. His heart was so large but never truly full. He could love forever and she thinks it's part of the reason he adored her so. One needed great patience and a true love for mother nature to understand the ongoing death and rebirth of life. To wait for her until his final end. And now he finally had it.

“Oh.. I can still hold him though right?”

She smiles, almost melting. “Even death is so kind to allow a child one last embrace of warmth.. you know that.”

She hands him the baby and Wade instantly begins coeing, nuzzling the boy's head and bouncing him. “Awww what a sweet.. er”

“Andrew.”

“Awww cute little andrew. How’d ya die buddy?”

“Car crash…”

“Oh… poor thing.” He gives the baby a couple of kisses and a good squeeze.

“Where's your mama? Hm? Or just you?” He asks the child, who gabbed nonsense.

“Oh yeah?? Bitch left ya? Don't worry. We'll look after you. Won't we babe?”

“Wade… no. He must go now.”

This was what she worried about. Worried that he would become upset once Andrew had to leave, but She knew how much Wade loved babies… if only she could have her own… she wondered if she would be a good mother before shaking her head. No. Death can never bare children. Not in a way in which she would ever get to meet them anyway-

“Oh.. right… well- where's he going? Surely babies don't go to hell?”

She gives him a sympathetic look. “Oh sweetheart… there is no hell.”

“Ooohh okay. I was wondering how I got into heaven.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her. She laughs quietly. “No honey. There's no “true” heaven either. He's going back to the universe.”

There was actually both Heaven AND Hell but the majority of writers got it wrong. The majority of mortals assumed that heaven was all clouds and lights, robes and wings but in truth Heaven was much more of an Office. A well lit, perfect temperature, never behind or over worked office. With mandatory 5 weeks vacation and paid maternity leave. That is… if angels could HAVE children. Such a silly thing to think about.

Hell on the other hand was in fact on fire. But not because of pitchforks and hellflame, more like because the fax machine was overheating and finally caught ablaze. Yes there was torture and agony for eternity but this was because hell did NOT have mandatory vacation and would fire you if you even LOOKED with child. How could you not be miserable if you are handed 50 new cases every single minute of every day until the end of all time itself?

“Wha-what do you mean? You're just going to throw him into space?? All alone?”

“He won't be alone darling. He has the entire plane of all things known to look after him.”

“Oh…”

She noticed that he was struggling to understand. Oh poor humans. Their brains could never comprehend such things.

“Think of it like this.. how many stars are there in the sky?”

“We think about two trillion but I have a feeling you're going to tell me somethin’ different, yeah?”

“Well… Think of all those stars as souls who have passed on.”

“Hm..What do they turn into?” He scratches his head.

“Energy.”

“So.. they're stars?”

“No. Just shapeless energy ready to form something new.”

“If you think about it.. Stars ARE shapeless energy.”

“Good point.”

“So…How long does that take? To be reincarnated or whatever?” His wrist flicks around a bit, gesturing to the child who was just sent off.

“Your idea of reincarnation is much different than the truth. But to answer your question..It can take forever if the universe deems it.” She smiles upwards. “Do you have any more questions?” She loved answering his questions. Wade was much more curious and intelligent that he let on in the mortal realm and it made her newfound skin tingle.

“...How are we in space right now if the underworld is.. you know.. Under?”

“Ah, that's a good one. Try not to think about places in time as a construct my dear. Time itself isn't even a straight flowing line.. people just think it is because it's easier that way. Little Andrew here is already an adult somewhere.” She smiles, shoulder to shoulder with him as she watches the ‘Star’ move far away, going where the universe needs it.

“He is?”

“Sometime.. yes.”

“...does he remember us?” Wade asks, asking about Andrew yes, but he was actually referring to himself, curious if he would start to lose his earthly memories.

“No. I'm afraid not. If he's lucky he will have some remembrance of his life, but I doubt it because he was so young.”

Wade thinks for a moment. “Where do his memories go?”

“They're dispersed throughout the ‘stars’ just as he was.” It was actually much more complicated than that but eh- this was much simpler. He frowns, processing. (It was a lot easier now that there weren't other people screaming in his head- at least, not as loud.)

“... so.. one day I'll be nothing.. forever… and all of the memories, all the things i've seen… will be gone? Kaput?”

She ponders, thinking if it were possible to keep him here and still retain his memories. Any other human would have their mind wiped by now but she made the exception and now was trying to think of a way to explain this.

“Y-you mean one day Im gonna get sucked up into that and My head, my shoulders, knees and toes, AND my eyes and my body and me are going to disappear?!” He asks, upset.

This, Obviously was a no no for her.

Shaking her head, she took his hand. “No. You won't. You might forget things that are unimportant to you, but you will remember everything that makes you..well.. You. There's no need to worry. You'll still have your body. Over time it will become like mine, but, It's not that bad really. You can't feel a thing.” She explains.

Taking a breath, He sighs heavily before whispering. “...But I want to feel..”

“What? Why?”

“I need to feel, Hope.”

The woman pauses, tilting her head. It wasn't often Wade said her true name.

“Why would you want to feel pain?”

“I-” he starts, eyes darting back and forth as he looks over the expression on his face.

“...Pain is what keeps me alive..”

Her head tilts the other way.

“Not anymore. You don't have to be in pain ever again.”

He shook his head. “That's not what I mean, babe. Without pain, I can't feel. Without feelings… There's no point in living..”

Hope is silent. She can't remember the last time she was ligitamently alive but.. this feeling she felt in her chest when he spoke to her so sweetly was the closest thing She had to that.

“..But.. you aren't alive, Wade..” She whispers, Watching him come to the realization that this was serious. This is it.

Wade Winston Wilson is Dead...with a capital D.

#Silence au #lady death #hope #death marvel #deathpool #chapter 4 #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #tw death #death #me and my husband #mitski

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 1 year ago

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

monday, kim jiwoong — advanced drama

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ monday summary: it's monday, the first day of the school week. you're excited for your advanced drama class, but not too keen on the person you're always forced to run into there. suave, charismatic, repulsively arrogant: kim jiwoong lives to make your life just a bit harder. and lucky you: today he's your scene partner. ⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific warnings under the cut! angst. lighttt dub-con. bullying. jiwoong plays romeo, that should be a warning for the faint of heart. the smut is fairly light in general. it's only monday guys, we have to survive six consecutive days so let's pace ourselves, ya know? ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: fingering/heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

“an exciting day today, as always,” professor lee announces from the center of your chair circle. “we’ll be performing a series of famous two-character scenes in the second half of the class and you’ll have the first half to prepare with your scene partner.”

all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.

your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you.

“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly.

you scowl. even knowing all the hell that kim jiwoong and his rat bastard friends have caused you this entire year, mina persistently eyes the inconveniently beautiful man with googly eyes through every class.

curious as to how the man himself is reacting to today’s assignment, you steal a glance in his direction: a terrible mistake. jiwoong is leaned back in his chair, one shoe resting on the opposite knee in a cocky, relaxed position. his hair is pushed neatly behind his ears, fashionable brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater tucked into his belt— arms crossed over his chest.

skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.

staring right at you.

you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.

“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”

mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.

“the first scene will be from bonnie and clyde. caroline-sshi will be reading for bonnie,” professor lee calls as he pulls the first slip of paper out of the jar, followed by the second. “and ichan-sshi will read for clyde.”

there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence.

“for our second scene, we have an excerpt from medea,” professor lee says, reaching into the glass jar. “the role of medea will be played by… mina-sshi. and the role of jason will be played by…”

mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.

“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.

the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.

“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”

nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?

you dare to steal another glimpse at jiwoong. he’s sitting forward now, legs spread apart with his forearms resting on his thighs— focusing on his hands as he waits. you truly feel sorry for the chump that has to spend the next forty minutes alone with him.

“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”

oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.

he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.

“while the romantic blocking written in several of these scenes is technically optional,” professor lee says, holding up his hands as if to calm the nervous energy in the room. “it plays an important part in the emotional integrity of the character dynamics. only do what you’re comfortable with, but consider why a stage direction is written and do take it seriously.”

professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.

“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”

“KISS HIM!?” you shout, driven by pure shock and disgust. nearly everyone in your class turns to look at you, but you’re too disturbed to care. it was a ridiculous question. there’s no way jiwoong would ever lower himself to kiss you. besides, he’ll be too busy using his mouth to insult you the whole time.

but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?

“thinking about me?”

the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface.

looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you, a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”

“explain to me again how you made it into advanced drama with those piss-poor acting skills?” jiwoong huffs, knocking into your shoulder with his as he brushes past you towards the door. when you don’t follow him, he turns around and glares at you expectantly. “did you forget how to walk or something?”

you shake your head silently and run after him out the door. a gap of at least a couple feet forms between you and jiwoong as you struggle to match his determined stride. “um, where are we going?”

“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”

you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.

as you finally reach the side door to the auditorium, jiwoong opens it and lets it swing before you can step inside. it nearly slams into your nose until you catch it with your elbow at the very last second.

“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”

you inhale deeply, trying your damnedest to not let him get to you yet. you still had thirty-nine long minutes to go. shaking your head in response, you follow him up the stairs and onto the stage. there’s some larger set pieces currently in use in preparation for the winter play; a corner tableau with walls occupies stage right.

jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”

bending down carefully in your short skirt, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.

“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”

you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.

“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”

your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances...

“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”

“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.

jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges.

you take advantage of this, reading through the script carefully and marking the blocking lightly from your fixed position on the stage. as you recite your lines, your ears burn red at what becomes clear to you: the scene is, for lack of a better word, sexy. juliet is a young virgin who is absolutely taken with the charismatic, handsome romeo. he desperately wants to kiss her and then some and juliet wants the same— though she has to feign that she doesn’t because of female fragility or some other bullshit, antiquated principle.

“if i profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” jiwoong reads, your heart dropping to your stomach. he makes an agonizingly convincing romeo: charming, witty... gorgeous.

why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?

“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,” you read your next line softly, attempting to steady your nerves as your script shakes between your fingers. “and palm to palm is holy palmers’… k—... kiss.”

jiwoong feeds off of your hesitation, a dangerous smirk darkening his features. this scene is evoking a visible reaction out of you and he’s as aware of it as you are. setting his script down on the hardwood stage floor, jiwoong recites perfectly, “have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”

he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”

“don’t come any closer,” you warn again, a little more conviction this time but still not enough to stop his perpetual motion. you try to move, but your feet are frozen to the floor. at least, you assume they are. that’s the reason you’re not moving, right?

it has to be.

jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly.

“if you come any closer, i’ll—… i’ll tell professor lee,” you threaten in panic. he’s just a few inches from you now and you can smell his sharp, spiced cologne. “i’ll tell him everything you’ve ever said to me, you absolute... TWAT ROCKET!”

“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? where’s my stick-up-her-ass, goody two-shoes when i need her, hm? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”

you did not want to fail today’s assignment. jiwoong bullying you through your whole rehearsal wasn’t exactly helping your chances, but there was hardly an available remedy for that. the only way forward was to just try to be the bigger, more professional actor. sighing resignedly, you read your next line: “ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

jiwoong somehow comes closer still, hovering over you like you’re a moth he plans to ensnare in his deadly flame. he raises his hand to your cheek and you flinch, expecting some sort of dull impact. you open your eyes when there is none. when your eyes meet his, jiwoong lifts his index finger— brushing it against your bottom lip as you stand there, unblinking in your shock. “o, then, dear saint... let lips do what hands do.”

he tugs your bottom lip down slightly, running the tip of his thumb gently across the soft, wet inside. you’re screaming inside your head, but not a single sound makes its way out of your mouth. jiwoong has called you names, pulled your hair, left red rashes from twisting the skin on your arms for two years now...

but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.

“they pray, grant thou,” he continues his line, thumb trailing from your lips, past your chin and down your neck. you gasp when he stops at the collar of your shirt, not sure if you’re more disturbed by his audacity to do this or his audacity to suddenly stop. you curse the aching feeling that you now realize has been radiating from your heat since you stepped on this stage. how could your body betray you like this?

jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all.

continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over the curve of your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”

“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”

“how thick is your skull that i have to keep reminding you to read your fucking line,” he hisses, the harsh insult sounds just like honey to you. his eyes appear almost black, daring you to disobey him.

you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.

“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”

you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s middle and ring fingers find their way under your skirt and between your legs. a whimper escapes you as he finds the sensitive bud, bucking your hips slightly into his hand at the wave of arousal.

“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding into his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.

“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he shoves the damp fabric of your panties to the side. “really wanna fuck you.”

“jiwoongie,” you whine again, script falling from your hand and onto the floor. your arms wrap around his neck for support as your legs start to weaken. “i—… i think you were just supposed to kiss me.”

“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he takes his hand off your hip and starts to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”

“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.

“i can,” he grunts, flipping you around so that your chest is squished against the wall. his gruff hands push up your skirt and knead into your hips and ass as he admires your form. “fucking insufferable little angel. was hoping you’d secretly be a filthy slut. just for me though, right?”

though hearing jiwoong demean you would normally bring tears to your eyes, it’s intoxicating to you in this moment. it’s a scary, complicated feeling and the only truth you know falls from your lips: “i... hate you.”

“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sounds of your arousal growing louder and wetter against his fingers. he flips you back over to face him eagerly. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”

your lips part as you stare at the bulge in his pants, mouth watering slightly. to your surprise and horror, you really do want it. if you let this happen, the consequences you’ll face could be detrimental.

but in this moment, watching a wavy lock of jiwoong’s hair fall across his forehead as his middle finger starts to prod at your entrance: you want him— need him inside you. your brain is clouded; vision lustful and hazy. how much does jiwoong’s past treatment of you really matter?

“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium.

“come fucking on,” jiwoong groans in frustration, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights. somehow it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you might get caught in the act. you start to struggle in jiwoong’s grasp, looking everywhere for a quick exit. he throws a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, shimmying your skirt back back down over your ass with the other.

“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”

after running a smoothing hand through your hair for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.

“oh my god, (y/n)!” mina calls excitedly, running over to you. “how did it go!? where’s jiwoong oppa? did he kiss you? was it amazing? does he taste like smoke and cinnamon? are his lips soft like clouds?”

“mina, that’s enough,” you shush awkwardly, knowing full well jiwoong can hear everything she’s saying— undoubtedly smirking like a wild hyena, that bastard. coming out of your spell of lust, you shudder as the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. how could you let an asshole like him put his hands all over you— almost put himself inside of you? the only answer to all of mina’s questions you can manage is a truthful one: “we didn’t kiss.”

“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”

“what’s too bad?” jiwoong asks, stepping out on stage next to you. he hands you your script, tucking his own under his arm. you notice his belt is buckled again. “sorry, i was getting our scripts.”

“nothing!” mina answers much too enthusiastically. “everything’s so, so good actually. now that you’re here. i mean, because professor lee sent me here to find you. and i found you! so everything’s great. perfect, even.”

jiwoong chuckles, turning to you: a malicious glint in his eye. he bites his lip, one corner of his mouth upturning in a mocking smile. then, he turns back to mina before sitting down on the edge of the stage and hopping off. “you know, i really wish we could’ve worked together on this one, mona.”

“it’s mina,” you correct, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. yes, you could see very clearly now. this had all been a sick little game to jiwoong. and you’d fallen right into his trap. he knew you would.

“sure, whatever,” he says, dismissing you with a passive wave of his hand. throwing an arm around mina’s shoulder, jiwoong leads your best friend toward the side door of the auditorium that you’d entered through. “but, like i was saying... i think we’d have a lot of chemistry, muna. maybe you’d like to work more on developing that with me... outside of class?”

the door slams behind them, leaving you standing alone in the spotlight of center stage. your underwear is wet and uncomfortable; your heart races as you blink back tears. of course jiwoong would be cruel enough to use your best friend to deal the final blow.

and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines.

yes, you’d let your guard down. but how were you supposed to know that something like that would happen? though jiwoong and his friends often made disparaging sexual remarks towards you, he wasn’t someone you thought would want to act on them. the biggest fear crosses your mind now: would he tell his stupid fucking friends about how much of a desperate whore you’d been for him just now?

mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route.

at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.

*also want to say that reader plays juliet in a RANDOMLY ASSIGNED scene during class. other people in the fic are assigned parts that are a different gender than they are. just wanted to mention this just in case it makes anyone uncomfy!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.

your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you.

“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly.

skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.

staring right at you.

you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.

“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts completely at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”

mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.

there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence.

mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.

“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.

the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.

“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”

nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?

“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”

oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.

he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.

professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.

“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”

but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?

“thinking about me?”

the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface.

looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you, a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”

“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”

you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.

“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”

jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”

bending down carefully, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.

“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”

you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.

“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”

your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances...

“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”

“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.

jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges.

why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?

“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”

he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”

it has to be.

jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly.

“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”

but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.

jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all.

continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”

“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”

you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.

“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”

you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s hand finds it’s way between your legs. a whimper escapes you as you buck your hips slightly into his palm at the wave of arousal.

“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding against his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.

“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he starts to tug at your waistband. “really wanna fuck you.”

“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he brings his left hand to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”

“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.

“i can,” he grunts, gruff fingers pulling down his zipper. “fucking insufferable angel. was hoping you’d secretly be filthy like this. just for me though, right?”

“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sound of your moaning growing less concealable. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”

“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium.

“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”

after running a smoothing hand across the top of your head for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.

“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”

and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines.

mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route.

at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

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goodlucktai · 5 months ago

Note

7 for Leosagi?? 🥺

dialogue prompts

7. “No. No, stop. Stop talking like that. You’re gonna be fine.”

i'm so sorry in advance. here's a song rec ❤️‍🩹

It’s not like Usagi expected to get a happy ending out of the apocalypse. It’s not like a happy ending could exist anymore—that idea went up in smoke the day Raphael died and took a part of every single person who loved him right along with him.

Leo hasn’t been Leo since then, not really. That magnetic person Usagi first met in Run of the Mill, with brilliant gold eyes and the loudest laugh in the room, is made up of smaller parts, and those parts run around in color-coded bandanas.

Losing Donatello was devastating for all of them, and in some ways was the final nail in the coffin that no one wanted to admit they had already dug a grave for in their minds.

Oh, Usagi realized that night, in between holding Leo and praying he’d scream or cry or do anything other than stare vacantly at the wall, I’m never getting him back again, am I?

That shining boy Usagi fell in love with was long gone by then.

But the man left behind still woke up in the morning and went to work, and his unyielding heart still beat for them, and his brand-new way of smiling with half the life he used to have was becoming more familiar every day.

Usagi knew that he and April were two of Leo’s touchstones, important and integral and necessary. He also knew that Michelangelo and Casey Jr. were the real miracle workers.

Mission room, quick, Mikey had sent one day with ninpo rather than a communicator, more of a feeling that gave the impression of words than an actual message. But Usagi had been an unofficial adoptee of the Hamato clan long enough that the turtles’ ninpo had a well-worn little nook inside his soul to rest in, and he was moving before Mikey’s voice had faded.

April was already in the doorway when he skidded into the hall, and he didn’t have a chance to ask what the matter was before he heard what had to have put that stunned look on her face.

Laughter.

Leo and his little brother and his little ward were sitting around the table, and what had probably begun as a lesson in strategy had devolved into what sounded like a homebrewed D&D campaign. Mikey was sitting cross-legged on the table, forming little figurines out of light as Casey requested them that became solid as they traded hands.

It was a pocket of goodness Usagi never would have guessed he would find that day. Mikey looked over his shoulder and beckoned them in with a nod of his head, smile widening to include them.

“Living up to your name every day, Angelo,” April murmured, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table and bumping her shoulder into his.

“You guys make it easy,” Mikey said as if his little miracles were unremarkable.

Usagi circled around the table to sit on Casey’s free side, rewarded with a samurai rabbit figurine and a backstory that sounded a lot like a fictionalized version of the horrifying disaster of a mission of four years ago, when he had led a pack of Krang hounds away from a cluster of survivors and somehow managed not to die for his troubles. Casey’s rendition edited out a lot of his panicked swearing, and made him sound more like a hero than anything.

Usagi had only told his fiancé the finer details, so this heroic Yojimbo character had to have come from him. It made his heart warm, and he listened to Casey’s earnest, inherited storyteller voice and Leo’s indulgent, leading questions fill the room for long after he should have gone to find some work to do.

And then the Krang arrived by the hundreds, with their hounds and their parasites, and crashed over the resistance like high tide. Everything fell apart, their forces scattering to survive only to be picked off one by one. Usagi lost sight of his family in the chaos, but then a beacon went up. It attracted attention for miles, and Usagi gritted his teeth and fought like hell to get there first.

He felt it when Mikey’s ninpo went supernova—an echo inside his heart that felt like loss. That felt like grief.

No, Usagi thought. Please no.

He found Leo lying on his plastron in an obscene pool of red, too much red to make sense. There was a portal open behind him—not blue like the ones he used to make, or burnt orange like Mikey’s, this was the color of the sun on those summer afternoons before the sky turned a perpetual pink. Shining so bright it was impossible to look at head-on.

Usagi barely looked at it for longer than a second before he was crashing to his knees at Leonardo’s side. The turtle’s carapace was a ruin and he was so still and Usagi didn’t realize his mouth was moving on autopilot, a steady stream of his inner no no no no, until Leo made some tiny noise that was sign of life enough to stall Usagi’s impending meltdown.

“Hey! Hey, sweetheart,” Usagi said, too-fast, leaning over him. The blood was still warm, seeping into the knees of his trousers. That was good, wasn’t it? That it was warm? “Tried to party without me, huh? That’s not how married life works, you know.”

The ghost of a smile touched the corner of Leo’s mouth. Usagi curled a hand against his cheek and touched his thumb to the smile, committing it to memory next to all the others.

“Sorry I never got to marry you,” Leo mumbled.

“No. No, stop,” Usagi said. He almost couldn’t hear himself over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. “Stop talking like that. You’re gonna be fine, and you’re gonna marry me. We promised when it was over, we’d—”

“It’s over,” Leo told him, cracking one eye open. The gold of it was so dull. Somewhere in there was the love of Usagi’s life, and he crawled closer, trying to find that spark he followed all the way here. The light that had survived every moment of darkness until now.

Then that eye crinkled, and Leo’s smile deepened beneath Usagi’s thumb, and he said, “It’s my turn to take a selfish.”

There he was. The laugh that came spilling out of Usagi was half-hysterical. The air smelled like smoke and metal and the pungent tang of the Technodromes and Leo was quoting a TV show they binged together as teenagers a lifetime ago.

“Anything,” Usagi said.

“Behind you,” Leo managed, blood on his teeth. “The door. Mikey made it.”

“The time gateway?” Usagi asked. They had discussed it once, years ago, but when Draxum brought up how dangerous it would be for their resident mystic warrior Leo shot the idea out of the air so completely that no one present in the room that day had dared bring it up again.

And now Mikey was gone. Usagi chanced another look at the brilliant starlike portal and knew instantly where he had gone. Accepting the loss of him was like accepting you would never see the sun again. Acknowledging how bleak your existence was about to become.

“The kid already went through,” Leo went on, his voice barely more than a wheeze. “The mission—it’s his now. He’s our g-greatest weapon. Always has been.”

Their little hope. Bright-eyed and optimistic, growing up in a burning world. If anyone could save everyone, it was Casey Jones.

“I need you—you to go, too,” Leo said.

“What? No,” Usagi said, reeling, light-headed with a sudden super-intense fear. Abruptly understanding the shape his own personal hell was about to take. “I’m not leaving you. Don’t ask me to do that.”

Leo laughed, a gusty exhale that seemed to take the last of his strength. “Not if I leave you first,” he mumbled, an apology and a farewell and all the wryness of a joke he knew no one would like. Tears wet Usagi’s fingertips, smearing into the blood and dirt on Leo’s cheek. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Usagi was a Hamato the way April and Cassandra and Draxum and Casey all were. The way the turtles had been, once upon a time. Taken in and given a home. He couldn’t weaponize the ninpo but he had never had any trouble feeling it.

And he could feel it when three different hands joined his on Leo’s shoulder. When Leo closed his eyes and didn’t drift from Usagi as much as he was lifted up into strong arms and carefully carried away. The body that Usagi was holding was empty. The man he loved—the shining boy he first met—was whole again somewhere else.

Go catch up to Junior, Mikey’s voice whispered in the back of his mind. We’ll see you on the flip side.

Usagi realized how Leo must have felt all these years, simultaneously carved from stone and insubstantial enough to float away if the wind blew hard enough. There was nothing left. There was literally, he thought, standing under a smoldering pink sky, the man he would have married dead at his feet, blood sticky and staining his fur, Mikey’s last act of love burning like the sun at his back, nothing left.

But there was still Casey. Alone, on a mission to stop this future from happening.

He thought of that day in the missions room, listening in on a lesson-turned-game, and Casey’s bright young voice rewriting history. The bold, daring characters. The brighter end.

Usagi kissed the dull red stripe on Leo’s cheek and pulled off his bloodied mask. Lifted the cracked blue katana from the ground and slid it into place next to Edgewing. Tied the tattered blue mask securely around his topknot.

One more run. One more stupid story to tell later.

“I bet you’ll get a kick out of this one,” he said to whoever might have been listening, and stepped into the light.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #leosagi #usagi yuichi #hamato leonardo #hamato michelangelo #april o'neil #casey jr #bushido boyfriends #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #anonymous #im a little uhhhh sad

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elklounge · 2 months ago

Text

Werewolf Lore Book found in The Quarry Game

Okay, where do I start? A few days ago I was playing The Quarry and trying to get screenshots of Travis. However, while in the Hackett House, I saw this book. I was curious if it said anything. Part of me wondered if it was just gibberish since the player can't really see it and it would just be for dressing the set and making the room look full. However, as I squinted I realized it said Curse of the Moonlight. I began to try multiple different methods to read the two pages of text. I couldn't find it in the game files and searching book didn't get me anywhere. However after some clipping and eye strain through using my glasses as a magnifying glass. Maybe this has already been discovered if so that's okay. I still just wanted to point this out. I am unsure which character was reading this. I want to say Chris Hackett since there are cigarettes present and the only other time I've seen them is in Chris' office as he smokes.

The text reads as the following:

Before the creation of the curse more than 23,000 years ago, the people of the old town, recognized the presence of an evil spirit, which successfully escaped from hell, broke all the spells which imprisoned it since the initial establishment of the Earth. Mankind had been struggling to fight and hopelessly defend themselves before the cruelty and the brutal behaviour of the beast. Finally, through all the tears and bloods, prayers and desperation, mankind lost to the creature and vanished. However, becasue of the vital impact and the destructive damage the conflict resulted, the Mother of Nature abandoned it from the ground, kept it in captivity under thousands of earth layers, for million of years.

The curse is supposed to be timeless. But unfortunately, some unconscious individuals summoned the beast with a deadly ancient magics and spells. Following the guide of the devils, they were forced to wake the monster from the deepest place that the humanity may ever know. Hence, every night when the moon shines the brightest, it will rise and hunt for human lives, as many as he can find, as much as he can fulfill the hunger through so many years, just until the sun rises to the fullest. And that became the story, which is then conveyed and spreaded from ears to ears, about this enigmatic forest.

Once upon a time, there was one said every journey is always full of unexpectancies and moreover, inevitable incidences. Stories have been told through centuries and decades, from villages to towns, from the elder to the youth. But not as the generations pass by or as the time fades, the curse has never been once broken. Whenever the reading is started, the moon will shine and the untamed creature will be released from your worst nightmare. Danger is triggered. And death follows.

Now, one is here in this place, reading these ambiguous is and wondering about everything. But he did not even noticed the wind has begun to blow harder and colder. The surroundings are frozen, not because of the weather, but due to one thing which is coming for the thirst of blood. The shelter is no longer a place to settle. It is now a deadly hunting area, dangerous obstacles, damaged constructions and mysterious blood stains.

In every step he takes, the traces will stay to wait for the beast. Like the last footprint he left during the last moment of his life. His scream will not be heard and his prayers will not be granted. He may survive but the terrified soul will last forever. His curiosity was the cause of the unfortunate event. And now he has to pay the bloody price and no savior would come to rescue.

Every moment he has now is priceless and vital. His life and the journey of survival depends on how he uses his last breaths. Which means now is the time that he needs to start to run.

My most insane attempt to read it which got me 2/3s of the way down the first page.

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alicerosejensen · 11 months ago

Text

Another you

Warning: reader mutation (c-virus), angst, blood, slight aggression, acquired albinism, fem/reader (not an agent, an ordinary civilian who worked at the museum), Leon has plot armor, more narration than dialogue, the text contains an antagonist like Simmons (male character), Ada is helping Leon again, relatively happy ending.

Synopsis: You didn’t want to change, you loved him, just as he loved you, but against your will, your love turned into hatred and animal anger towards him. However, Leon still hopes that you will remember him...

A/N: This is probably my biggest work. Tumblr told me to fuck off a few times while editing, but I came out victorious in the fight, although I had to re-write the text into the draft a few times because Tumblr for some damn reason published it without my knowledge. I hope feedback if anyone liked it, because I have been burning with this idea for a long time!

The text also contains an excerpt from Byron's poems (I adore him)

He promised himself first of all that nothing would happen to you. That his work won't affect you in any way and you won't get hit by the corporate bastards, and you really didn't. However, something else happened...

But people whom Leon loves or simply cares about tend to leave or even die.

Everything was fine with you. Ideal in his imperfect life and you were this perfection that he valued and protected. A prudent person would not keep an expensive diamond in front of everyone, so Leon did not scatter information about you and who you are to him. You were loved and dear to him more than all the treasures of the world, he appreciated your tenderness towards him and kindness, because it was you who helped him get out of the hole of despondency in which he buried himself. His personal little guardian angel. Still, he has something to continue his fight against bioterrorism.

A normal working day, except that the museum where you work was supposed to host an exhibition of some very expensive collection for which you were so carefully preparing, forgetting about yourself. It seemed to Leon that you were burning with enthusiasm and love for the work you were doing, which made you walk around too excited, forgetting about food, so he had to remind you to eat. This exhibition had no meaning for Kennedy, but he did not belittle your efforts thrown into this preparation, especially since you were so happy that you were incessantly talking about all these paintings, historical activities depicted on them and objects: a pendant with a strand of hair of some queen - you explained to him that this is a symbol of affection that was previously used It's like you're giving a piece of yourself to your giver, a kind of connection with a loved one, but this is just one of the meanings of such a peculiar gift. Silk fans, a clock, a desk, some items of clothing that, in Leon's opinion, were very strange and he was just glad that fashion had moved far ahead.

Although he could interpret all this in one word: beautifully.

And you were beautiful too. He would have liked to spend more time with you, but you were completely absorbed in your work, and he was overwhelmed with paperwork that he couldn't stand, but anyway, at least he could come back to you and listen to excited speeches and new facts that he didn't know anything about and would hardly remember if he told him about it someone else.

And everything went to hell when there was another outbreak, less global, but most importantly - human lives. And yours.

He was trying to save you, even if someone else had survived this exhibition, he would still have saved you first and not someone else. Mini Raccoon City, that's what he called it, making his way with you to the emergency exit while you kept up with him on your heels, because today you were supposed to shine and glow and not cry with fear looking at the pale corpses of history and art lovers. The light from Leon's flashlight illuminated a small part of the space while you walked quietly thinking about Leon's words, "I wonder how much time we have before they get up?"

"Were they poisoned?" you assumed, because how could you kill such a huge number of people without weapons. Leon, watching the ventilation grilles in the rooms, suggested in his head only one quick way.

"It must be gas,"

But then you would both have died too, you decided, but you did not voice your thought, because shortly before the tragedy you were invited to discuss something by the sponsor of this exhibition. A man who managed to collect so many magnificent things with a rich history. The man who gave you flowers and flirted with you from the day you first met, despite the fact that you made it clear to him that you were not interested in any relationship with him, except for work.

However, Leon also remained silent when he saw the luxurious bouquet of scarlet roses on your work table, which filled your entire small office with their aroma. But right now that simply wasn’t the main thing. He needed to get you out of the mess that happened, and then ask about flowers from rich strangers.

You walked slowly, trying not to make any noise or cry behind him while you clung to his jacket, partially managing to wonder why Leon's gun was with him when he had no reason to carry a gun. All this, of course, was secondary, given how stress, coupled with imagination, turned the exhibits into various frightening figures that frightened, made you scream, thinking that the fallen armor, which was probably simply poorly secured to the stand was another dead man. I didn’t even want to think about what happened in the exhibition hall, much less imagine. Leon had to take you by the hand and at times drag you along with him because the panic really aggravated everything, he was afraid that you would start to go hysterical, but it seems that despite the periodic stupor, you kept yourself well under control, exactly until the moment when Leon’s flashlight went out, leaving you in pitch darkness.

“Leon?” you called out anxiously, feeling noisy ragged breathing behind your back. Was this what Leon was talking about? Until recently, you hoped that his words were just another stupid joke and the dead do not rise, but here behind you is the living embodiment of a nightmare who is ready to grab your neck and feast on warm flesh. Have time to scream? You didn’t even have time to fully scream when a strong grip grabbed you by the shoulder and roughly threw you to the side from the line of danger because you fell, hitting your thigh on the marble tiles, after which a series of deafening shots and the muffled groan of a dead man was heard, three bullets or maybe be more? You didn't count.

As if in slow motion on a large screen, it was impossible to take your eyes off what you saw. All sounds died down, leaving the silence of your own mind and the smell of blood.

All you could do was watch how the beam of light from the flashlight shines directly on the corpse and how Leon’s hands are trying to bring you to your senses, because you knew the one whom he had just completely killed. Richard, your colleague with whom you had coffee this morning and discussed the latest news, sometimes often joked at lunch... was now dead and you were crying without knowing it. Tears just flow uncontrollably from your eyes even as Leon wipes your face with his thumbs, trying to lift you off the floor and make you go outside.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know it’s hard but we have to go"

"I... I can't... why here?" You ask more into the void than from him

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here.” Leon grabs you under the armpits, helping you get to your feet, dragging you towards the exit.

Better yet, this would all just be a nightmare. The noise from the shots makes you cover your ears with your hands while Leon once shoots people, at the same time trying to protect the slow-moving you. They scream, moan, attack and you feel like you are in a horror film with high-quality special effects and good acting, but you realize, albeit reluctantly, that all this is not a joke but an evil reality where Leon almost at the very exit asks you to pull yourself together and you don’t even you can stand on your feet. Before your eyes, everything collapsed and the world went crazy, trying to grab you with it.

"I can't... can't... I'm so scared..." your hands grab Leon and he hugs you to him, which only makes you want to cry harder and ask him to do the impossible - to return everything to the way it was. He hugs you tightly, kissing you on the top of your head, giving at least some reassurance given the fact that he has always tried to protect the little that he loves from his work, but you accidentally found yourself in the epicenter and your reaction is quite expected.

"Everything will be fine, please look at me," he asks in a soft tone, lifting your head and forcing you to look into his eyes, "It will be difficult, I do not know what is happening outside and what kind of virus it is, but you must not leave me alone. I shoot, and you stand behind me or hide if I tell you to. If you see a dead person, don't you dare approach him!"

"Is it like this everywhere?"

Leon didn't quite understand if you were talking about the whole city or just the upcoming race, in any case, he only nodded briefly, giving you a little more time to catch your breath while you listened to the rapid pounding of the heart in his chest. He was afraid too.

It could have tried better. You really pulled yourself together, but after contacting Hunnigan, Leon exhaled for a second, saying that the virus had not spread so far and in fact the appropriate measures had already been taken, she sent the two of you to the evacuation point where doctors could examine you and give you a vaccine injection in case it really was gas, as Leon said, which logically you were both breathing anyway. So the virus could have entered your body, the scariest thing you reasoned while you were following him, is that you are both alive by a lucky chance, because if Leon had not been attacked by an attack of tenderness, it would probably have been the last day of his life. You no longer even thought about the fact that that sponsor called you somewhere... Emerick. You smiled when you remembered that Leon called him a high-dimensional asshole, but he probably became a victim like everyone else, so there's no need to speak ill of him.

You thought that because you didn't think he was a bad person. You and Emerick had common topics of conversation, he knew a lot and he had a rich collection of rare things bought from auctions for a lot of money, besides, as he himself said, much of what he actually has was inherited in his family, which made you think that he probably was some kind of hereditary noble. His manners were really perfect.

It took about an hour before Leon left you in a quiet place. There were only zombies outside and a few survivors who, no matter how hard Leon tried, still couldn't help. They always died in front of his eyes, even now leaving a sense of guilt in his soul, because he should protect and not kill, but now this is the best thing he can offer them to the infected. Wide windows on the third floor of a God-forsaken warehouse protected from enemies and if you believe Ingrit, then this is the C-Virus that Neo-umbrella created, not so old, but in the terrorist market, in fact, it is already junk.

"At least there are no cocoons and lepoticas, otherwise I would have big problems"

You were sitting on the crates risking tearing your nylon tights while Leon was talking via video link on his work smartphone, waiting for his colleague Ingrit from F.O.S to plot the safest route to the plane that should pick you two up. Leon thought you were safe with him. You just sit quietly next to him trying to catch your breath while he does the main work and he was really calm until you screamed sharply falling off the box, forcing him to turn to you when he saw you holding your neck.

The phone immediately fell to the floor.

"What happened? Are you in pain?!"his eyes widened as he pulled out the dart that was the cause of everything. "Baby, can you hear me?! Everything will be fine, hold on!"

There was no one in the window. By the way, there was no time to search for the culprit. Thoughts were flying crazily in his head, Leon picked you up in his arms, hiding you behind drawers so that you would not get into anyone else's lens, noticing how quickly your breathing becomes shallow.

Was it a new virus or an improved one from before? You curled up crying from what seemed like your organs were turning into a burning cauldron causing hellish pain that made you moan loudly.

"Hunnigan! I need a vaccine, urgently! Where's the damn helicopter?!" Ingrit shot up for a moment. The women's painful moans in the background were ready to make Leon burst into tears and she was almost sure that tears were stuck in the corners of his eyes.

"It will take time to figure out what it is..."

"There's no time!" he shouted into the phone. Ingrit's fingers immediately clicked on the keyboard.

You sobbed. The bones seemed to melt, which made you literally lie on the concrete floor until Leon shifted you onto his lap, feeling your body temperature rise from normal to high.

That's probably why you threw up and blood gushed out of your nose. Your heart was pounding wildly, you didn't hear Leon screaming in panic, hugging your body to him, realizing that if you don't inject the serum soon, then everything will be over. You're dying, but Leon's brain refuses to accept it when he picks you up in his arms trying to save you because with your death, life won't make sense to him.

"You're not going to die!" the words expressed through clenched teeth echo in the spacious building as Leon picks you up in his arms and carries you outside in time. "Everything will be different"

He couldn't let this happen again. It was as if everything was being repeated again from hell to hell, only now in Helena’s place he is himself and he definitely won’t have enough strength to put a bullet in your forehead, and if he does... then he’ll shoot himself too.

Every minute was precious and if it weren’t for the infected, Leon would have instantly reached the right place and injected you with the serum, but luck was not on his side again, just like on the first day of work in Raccoon City. You were heating up so much that he could feel the heat emanating from your body, even through your clothes. Once the virus enters the human body, the incubation period varies for everyone: Deborah Harper lasted two hours before she mutated, for some it takes about a couple of minutes, even God himself does not know how much time is measured for you.

Having reached the helipad, Leon cursed everything in the world since the helicopter was not even visible anywhere. The situation was clearly not going in your favor. You again let out a painful groan, feeling like your body was literally burning and your head hurt so much that you wanted to be hit with a huge hammer. Leon stroked your back, holding you close to him. God, your temperature was already colossally high!

"Just a little more, be patient, honey" Leon doesn't believe it, he wants to, but he can. You scream and cry, trying to tear off your skin with your nails just to make this heat go away. He would like to change places with you, it would be better if he were dying now and not you, and not so monstrously.

The virus flows through the veins, attacks all defense mechanisms, mercilessly rebuilding the entire body in a new way, creating an aggressive weapon out of a person capable of mass murder without any remorse. Leon's affection does not destroy you, right now it is the only way to save yourself, but even if by some miracle an active medicine fell on your head, what is the chance that it saved you? The probability of healing, even with side effects, tends to be no more than 5-7%.

"D-don't want to d-die"

A pitiful groan, through the agony of pain you see Leon’s crying eyes, the skin peels off unnaturally under the influence of high temperature, but this is not visible under the clothes, but face...

"No no no no!"

Leon fell to the ground from your sharp push, but immediately jumped to his feet, running up to you after a wild, painful cry. Just one second and the body was suddenly engulfed in a flash of fire, turning the flesh into a hardened cocoon. You are gone.

It was all over.

Leon sees double. It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this! The gun is lying somewhere a couple of meters away, having fallen out of the holster when you pushed it away from you, and if this was a standard work situation, Leon would have tried to quickly run up to it or pick up the Sentinel Nine, but his hand did not rise. His knees hit the concrete floor painfully, along with the realization that he had lost again. The hard cocoon transforms the caterpillar inside itself into a beautiful butterfly, which is destined to fly, but Leon knows that everything human in you has burned out and only a monster will hatch from this cocoon, at best only vaguely reminiscent of you, so maybe it’s better to just tear it apart and then let him go on his own a bullet for himself?

The rain continues to pour, gradually calming down. The guys from B.S.A.A are already somewhere down there clearing the city of the infected and saving the survivors because there is a vaccine, there are ways to destroy the trash that Neo-Umbrella created. The sounds of gunshots mix with a frenzied rumble in his heart, which is why Leon doesn't want to hear anything anymore, preferring instead to stretch out his hands to your still warm cocoon, where some movement is already visible. Watching this, Leon was ready to miss even the deafening sound of the helicopter, but the light made him close his eyes and lift his head up.

Even without looking closely, he immediately realized that it was not the helicopter that Hunnigan had sent.

For the sake of love, people really do the most cruel things.

Leon immediately realized who was behind all this when the helicopter landed and several armed men jumped out of it, their faces hidden by masks. He slowly got to his feet, looking at the culprit of his suffering, dressed in a snow-white suit, with an impudent grin that Kennedy remembered from the beginning of the evening, when everything was still fine. Leon could have sworn that he had never felt such rage before, although a painful scream stuck in his throat.

No one pointed a gun at him. Everyone just froze, waiting for something.

"It's a small world, Mr. Kennedy," he said, waving to one of his assistants, and he and two mercenaries pulled a cryogenic capsule out of the plane. "But it was stupid to think that a man like you would die from a bunch of mindless zombies. I must admit, I didn't want to go to extreme measures until the last moment, I liked today's event, but because of you, I had to cancel everything. I've lost most of my collection"

"So it was you after all…" Leon muttered through his teeth, not yet grabbing the gun, realizing the risks. He is alone in the open space - a wonderful target. "I didn't see your corpse in the museum."

"A distraction," he explained, watching the capsule's preparation from the corner of his eye.

Emerick… Leon suddenly remembered how you recently confessed to him that he began to take care of you by giving you flowers, then inviting you for a cup of coffee, listening to music or general topics of which there were too many. But in the end, when the attentions began to exceed the standard amount, hinting at something more, you refused him, saying that you already have someone. You didn't notice, but Leon has been catching his obsessive glances at you all evening… How sometimes you looked at the exhibits behind the glass case, which you can not touch, despite the ban.

But you didn't even choose between the two of them. Leon always came first.

"For what?"

Emerick smiled as he looked at the cocoon and Leon's question disappeared by itself. Because of jealousy? Because a rich bastard couldn't get what he wanted, even with a giant bank account?

"You won't believe it, Mr. Kennedy, but for love. Death took away a dear person from me and I want to return what belonged to me, however, you will not understand this"

Leon grinned, clenching his fists.

"Why? Why her? If you wanted to take revenge on me, then you would have taken revenge on me and not on her!"

"Who said it was you?" asked Emerick, looking at his interlocutor as if he were an idiot. "For the most part, you just annoyed me like an annoying fly, but no more, although you encroached on something that does not belong to you."

Leon was about to answer and pounce despite the machine guns pointed at him, but the movement below and the sound of the cocoon tearing attracted all attention. He has seen it many times and your hand was reaching out to break free from the tight shackles of the past flesh, forcing its way out. Everyone is closely watching the birth of a new life, but only in the eyes of one of those present there was delight, not fear and regret. Leon couldn't bear it… He didn't understand what was wrong. The transformation was different.

"Happy birthday, Ada,"

A memory flashed through his mind.

History repeats itself. Only it turns out that besides Simmons, there is another bastard who looks like him in everything.

Leon reached out to you, as if trying to grab you, to help you get out and take you away from here. A brief moment of hope still lit up in my soul like a small smoldering flame, my mind seemed to be clouded, and yet deep inside there was a glimmer of awareness. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong while you were trying to get out, muffling all his annoying voices of caution. Wrong smell, wrong body color… Leon squints his eyes, the cocoon breaks and before he can grab your hand, he freezes.

The slimy, sticky naked body lying in front of him looked more like a white marble statue with a thin network of blue veins protruding under the skin. The mercenaries looked at each other, clutching their guns tighter but still not pointing them at you. The sight is really amazing. Leon comes up to you lying down, at first glance it seems lifeless, but looking closely, your chest quietly heaves and he kneels down again, pulling you to his shoulders, peering into familiar but still changed facial features.

There are no appendages behind the back, from which ugly claws protrude, no razor-sharp claws, no fangs. But instead, unnaturally pale skin and hair… the structure is thicker, and the color merges with the color of the body. The same discolored ones, but stuck together due to the transformation in the cocoon. You open your eyes a little, and instead of the usual iris, two red lights rush at him without a shadow of anger and aggression, just fatigue, something that Leon used to see when you stayed up late at work.

"And, when the grave restores her dead,

When life again to dust is given,

On thy dear breast I'll lay my head—

Without thee! where would be my Heaven?"

Ignoring the familiar lines of poetry, Leon remains silent when he gives him an order in a harsh voice.

"You won't understand," Leon has no doubt. He doesn't want to understand these motives. "You're not even worthy of the dirt under her nails, let alone touching her!"

Leon picks you up in his arms, turning to face Emerick, meeting with loaded guns.

"Did you infect her with the C-virus so that she would become your toy?"

"A toy?!" he snapped back.

Now it already looks like a confrontation between two men for the heart of one woman, almost a joust in modern realities in all its dirty manifestations and meannesses, but Leon does not feel the advantage. A fairy tale with a bad ending. One madman decided to use a virus to change the girl's memory and her appearance, making you the one who died a long time ago, and he…a brave man with a valiant heart who somehow thinks that even after death, Simmons is also connected with this. Even indirectly. Sold the idea of resurrecting someone else's personality in another person?

The rain is hitting your body in drops, and Leon wants to cover you, hide you, hoping that this is his second attempt. It seems that consciousness is returning to you, but you are still disoriented, not understanding who you are and what is happening. You became a part of the darkness that Leon carried on his shoulders.

"All for love," one wave of his hand, and the one standing behind him makes Leon bend painfully, crying out in pain, almost dropping you, his fingers dig into your skin, causing a barely audible moan from your mouth, but you are still snatched from his hands, carried into that capsule, after that, Emerick turns away from his opponent, putting something like an oxygen mask on you, stroking your cheek gently with his fingers.

"What the hell kind of love?!" Leon knows for sure that the other person is smiling even if he does not see it himself.

"You may not believe it, but I'm one-woman man, Mr. Kennedy. It took me a fortune to improve the C-virus so that it would affect her body without turning her into a vile insect-like creature. There was only one side effect after the final result - loss of pigmentation, but this is not significant, in all other respects it completely met my expectations. All THIS is for her sake."

"You sick... "

"No, I'm a heartbroken husband who lost his wife prematurely but now we will be reunited." Emerick looked at you lovingly before closing the capsule, which they began to load back into the helicopter. “And you, Mr. Kennedy, are just one of millions. You saw a work of art and decided to grped it when you had no right to do so. Someone like you will never understand her value, you were never able to give her everything she deserved!”

It’s hard to disagree when the muzzle of a machine gun is pressed to the back of his head, but Leon still fights as he watches the cryogenic capsule ahead being shoved back into the helicopter.

Adrenaline is pumping into his head and his palm is itching to get the second gun out of the holster, but Leon realizes one wrong move and this will be the finale in his story. You will drown in a pool of false memories, considering yourself the person you have never seen or known, you will begin to be called by another name, carrying antibodies to the improved C virus in your new body and you will give yourself into the arms of a man distraught from his loss, considering yourself his true love.

Leon walks on the edge, but now the feeling that a thin rope can throw him into the abyss, from where there is no return, feels more acute. If only Hunnigan's helicopter had arrived, but intuition suggested that the delay was caused not just by technical circumstances.

"Do you think you injected her with a virus and she will start to adore you? You gave her the power to smear you like a bug on the wall as soon as she wakes up." He does not know the properties of this virus and what abilities it can give, but experience suggests that minor adjustments in appearance and lack of pigment like albinos are not the whole potential obtained.

"You've dealt with many terrorists, but I'm not one of them, Mr. Kennedy," still pretending to politely hide his hatred for some American sharing a bed with his woman, whom he considered his own, Emerick retorts: "I don't want to turn people into monsters, although I don't want the world to be on fire, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. This virus was tested on many before my trusted person injected it to her, and before using it, I tested it on many."

Leon clenches his teeth, glaring at Emerick, letting him finish. Truly, big money creates lawlessness.

"As I said, everything is for love"

But there is no love here. Just an obsession.

Emerick no longer intends to continue the conversation, sits back down in his seat in the helicopter next to the cryocapsule, again signaling his people to get rid of the last witness, besides, he no longer intends to dirty his hands, especially about someone like Kennedy. Although he may still have the desire to end Leon on his own, but looking back at the capsule, his lips are touched with a mocking smile. The project must be completed, and the finishing touches are always needed so that the creator can enjoy his creation.

"But so be it, I'll leave her memories of you. The most bitter and unhappy, she will remember you and be glad that I saved her from you. See, I can be generous even to those who don't deserve it."

"I will refuse your generosity."

The situation was turning into complete shit. Emerick probably hoped to clean up all traces of himself, which is why he left the mercenaries to clean up after him, while he himself rose into the air with a last contemptuous glance at Leon.

"I'll find you, you son of a bitch."

He'll find him and kill and then bring you back.

Fortunately, sometimes Leon has a guardian angel with a smoke bomb behind his back, covering him with shots from a crossbow bolt while Leon quickly pulls out his spare pistol, getting rid of the last two mercenaries. A familiar style and a familiar fragrance when the haze clears allowing you to see the savior in the flesh in his unchanging red outfit and Leon would even smile at her if the plane with you did not move away from him every second. Ada is the red queen of today who postponed the execution of her former lover, smiling at him gently and a little cunningly wondering how fate brings them together and separates their paths from time to time. Leon does not thank out loud, but words of gratitude to this woman who clearly spent her personal time on him still freeze in the air.

She looks at the remains of the cocoon, clutching the crossbow tighter, roughly imagining what could have happened, seeing Kennedy's wet eyelashes, although the rain could have been to blame for everything, which fortunately had already calmed down, as well as the noise outside, although occasionally groans and shots were heard in the distance. Today, her calculated accuracy saved him again.

"Long time no see, Leon" The velvety voice sounds soothing, but a little tired. In any case, Leon definitely owed her more than double the fare for his rescue.

A princess must have a knight in love to protect her from evil. In fairy tales, a kiss of love usually solves all problems, but what if the princess herself does not remember losing herself in the memories of her own and others? A suppressed personality cries out from the depths, not wanting to be forgotten, fighting with the one who took the pedestal and two names… two girls cannot merge into one, causing you only panic attacks and uncontrolled aggression, forcing the creator to believe that he is not so skilled even if he was filled with desire and endowed with money.

A charming man who calls himself your husband bends over her, holding out his hand decorated with antique rings to you, and you look at her with a puzzled look, pressing your back against the wall, trying to create distance between you. Because no matter how hard they tried to suppress your personality, but the feeling of uncontrollable fear, fused together with a new body, did not leave you, so you did not believe. Neither to him, nor to himself, nor to anyone else, and the dagger in the white palm hidden behind your back does not seem so heavy. The reaction is faster, the senses are heightened, and although the virus does not give the princess strength, you still resist, wounding your "husband", allowing scarlet drops of blood to bloom like roses on a white dress that has merged with the color of your skin.

Contrary to that, you have not become perfect, but you are still a passionate obsession for two men: one with pure thoughts and the other with a mad desire that has been tormenting him for a long time. It's hard to escape from the mansion, but thanks to heightened senses, it no longer seems impossible. However, it is even harder to ignore your true self, which screams and tears your head apart, as well as to separate two personalities from yourself.

You're confused. Not in luxurious rooms and corridors, but in yourself.

Something screams from the inside telling you to run away from here, and then it calms you that this place is your home, you know every corner here, every crack on the vase, these outfits in a separate dressing room tailored specifically for you, everything is familiar and at the same time alien. Your husband said that he saved you from a bastard named Leon, and after saying this name, the image of a blond man with beautiful blue eyes immediately stands in your eyes, but your heart overflows with rage, forcing you to tighten your grip on the dagger hilt.

You still have at least one sincere emotion, as you thought, however...

Leon is intently examining the analysis result from the remains of the cocoon that was sent to him. It really was what he was thinking, but Ada had already revealed a little secret to him.

"Maybe years will pass, and her real personality will somehow begin to manifest itself. I still don't know how Simmons fixed Carla's memory."

Leon puts the phone back in his pocket, looking at Ada with a slightly offended look, although she knows that he holds a grudge only against himself.

"But she's an exact copy of you," Leon reminded her, saying that when you pulled out of the cocoon, your face remained almost the same, yes, the features changed a little, but it was still you.

"But it will explain your new friend's obsession with your girlfriend," she chuckled, teasing him kindly, "If she looks so much like his dead wifey, then why would he change her appearance when they are almost identical to each other."

"And if it was an extreme measure, as he said... " Leon continues, scolding himself even more.

"You provoked him to infect her yourself. If he was hitting on her and she turned him down because of you, then it makes sense. Maybe if your girlfriend had been more mercantile and greedy for money, everything would have been without the virus."

However, was it Leon's fault or yours? Ada didn't blame anyone.

Leon may never guess at the ulterior motives, which may not have existed at all, but who else but she helped him again, however, leaving all the dirty work to Leon himself. After all, you were his concern, not hers. Although she followed you and your strange behavior a little, she finally sent him the coordinates of the place and your photo.

"I wish I could say that she remembered everything, but it seems that the virus did not affect her the way it was originally intended. Be careful, your beloved is a little aggressive."

Is it a consequence of the virus, or do you still remember who you are? Leon wants to believe in the latter when he collects equipment for the road, no longer hoping for anyone's help. But your new house looks more like one big clever trap and all the working staff have disappeared somewhere. In Leon's opinion, there should be more than one butler here, but there were no corpses either. Holding a gun at the ready, it was essentially a trespass on private property, but in the report he would later indicate that he was getting evidence. It won't be easy to find you, although you might make a little noise to attract his attention.

And you? You are sitting in a silent garden in the sweet scent of roses, standing out against the background of bright colors as a white spot, listening to the noise of the fountain, which still somehow calms you down after the last scuffle with your spouse. Alone, barefoot, you walk along a stone path, fingering strands of hair between your fingers, trying to compare in your head incomprehensible pictures from the past of two different people. You cannot love that person, for some reason you are afraid and angry at him despite his care. He took the knife away from you, letting you wander around the house like a ghost humming an annoying melody from his own past to himself, letting Emerick hope that manipulation and time will do their job. You hate Kennedy and that's been enough.

The support group is ready, but Leon still prefers to pick you up and then let the guys from the alliance work, having their own personal accounts in this matter. This could be the easiest capture of a terrorist in all his professional experience, but when his presence becomes known, the situation becomes complicated in the form of additional traps equipped with deadly devices and gas for which the anti-C vaccine is useless. In the end, Leon remains even without light and the flashlight does not save well. He looks into every room in an attempt to find at least some hint of your stay here after almost six months of absence.

And he finds in one of the inhabited rooms where only one bed occupies a quarter of the space. There is a beautiful comb with precious stones with traces of white hair on the dressing table, and Leon, picking up the jewelry, is sure that you are here somewhere, just like he is wandering among the dark corridors, although he really regrets that he did not find you in this room. However, another thought comes to his head when a thin lace pale pink negligee lying on the back of the sofa catches his eye… you only walked around in such things with him alone, and clutching the fabric in his hands, Leon can't help but think that Emerick slept with you in this bed.

The funny thing is that he's ready to forgive you everything now. He won't even remember that another man touched you afterwards because you're a victim and Leon, even if you don't remember him, wants you to at least return to a relatively normal life.

But the silence is suddenly cut short when a creak is heard behind, barely perceptible to the ear. A secret door? He does not turn around, freezing in one position, continuing to hold your negligee in his hands, feeling someone's sharp gaze on his back, but out of the corner of his eye catches a familiar silhouette, in the darkness of which two red eyes are burning.

You.

Leon tenses up. The sound of the blade breaks the silence, and your light tread turns into a sharp jerk as you rush at him with a sharp hairpin, hoping to plunge it deeper into his back. Your reaction may have improved, but Leon's reflexes are still faster, Kennedy dodges to the side, which causes you to fall directly onto your dressing table, knocking it over with you, forcing him to open his eyes in amazement.

"No, no, no, you couldn't turn into a monster," a thought runs through Leon's head.

The mirror breaks into many pieces and dig into your skin, causing the blood to contrast brightly on the light skin, which seems almost an unnatural sight. But through the pain, you hiss again trying to pounce on him, which causes Leon to fall on his back, rather out of surprise, managing to intercept your hand that aimed the clip directly at his eye. Pushing you away is not too big a problem, but the point is that you will still continue to throw at him and he does not want to use weapons at all.

"Bastard!" you growl, "Don't you like being hit back?"

"Stop, it's me!" he shouted, still holding your wrist so that you couldn't hurt him.

It was as if you hadn't heard. Leon pushed you away a little, hoping that being farther away would allow you to get to know him better, but what he didn't expect was for you to lash out at him over and over again, and honestly, if it were up to him, he would have removed the threat quickly, but it's hard to hurt someone you love. He'd had to kill Marvin and the President in the past, that in itself still weighs on his soul, but if he had to kill you… Deborah was easier. She was Helena's sister, not his, so his hand didn't shake when he pulled the trigger of the shotgun, but you're different. You're impossible to shoot at.

"Stop it!" he begs twisting your wrist so that you scream in pain and that scream tears his soul causing a lump in his throat. "It's not you! I beg yoy don't make me hurt you."

He doesn't even want to think about the estate being so deserted because of you. Leon still thinks it's just a virus, and somewhere inside you remember his, you just need to trigger it somehow. Ada said the virus affects you differently than it does Carla, but she didn't mention that you're aggressive to anyone who tries to touch you. Leon keeps his guard up, but despite your tight grip, you've apparently acquired some sort of ability that allowed you to break free and run down the hallway. He's not sure if you can throw people against the wall like baseballs, but your regeneration is enviable, because the only reminder of the wounds from the broken mirror on your body are drops of blood.

No abrasions.

So, after a little scuffle, as a result of which the antique dressing table is smashed to pieces along with all the bottles standing on it, Leon gets to his feet trying to figure out what the hell just happened. However, your trail has already disappeared. The house is huge, but despite this, Leon still puts the safety on the gun, afraid to instinctively shoot you if you attack him again. In hand-to-hand combat, you have little chance, but his reflexes can work faster than his brain. But abrasions and wounds a couple of centimeters deep, your body is able to regenerate itself. So cold steel will be the best thing, in case he meets other inhabitants of the estate besides you.

As already mentioned, the flashlight did not save the situation too much, of course, fanatics worked in some places, especially in the garden, but Leon did not find anything except small supplies, although his gut instinct encouraged him to pick up a gun to feel confident. But in the backyard, after several hours of searching among the marble statues and the damp fresh air that hit in the face, somewhere among the bushes in which some cautious movement is heard. It's like a wild cat sneaking up to its prey and Leon realizes - you're here!

Behind him again, so Leon straightens up. If it were daytime or even evening, he would have no problem finding you, but there is a starry night overhead. Rage is growing somewhere between your ribs, inside, but everything is different for him, because despite the internal contradiction, Leon is to some extent convinced that it is useless to fight with you.

There is nothing in his chest but regret and delayed words that he rarely said.

And yet at some point you look at each other continuously. You notice that he has only one knife in his hands, just like you, although Leon hides it back in the case, taking two small steps back trying to talk again. White hair is blown away by the wind and it annoys you that there is no elastic band or barrette to put it in a bun or tail. There doesn't seem to be anything in this damn house for your comfort!

The most painful thing is the way you look at him, but Leon still grins hiding his pain behind an inappropriate joke, standing in a fighting stance preparing to deflect blows.

"Well, I'm not against role-playing games, I really liked it when you were my bunny last time."

It's confusing or rather discouraging that it stops you for a few seconds and Leon uses this time to take the knife away from you, but you dodge so deftly and still more scared, almost dropping the knife to the ground.

"Come on, drop it, sweetheart" Leon asks, taking a step towards you, then you, on the contrary, retreat trying to find your advantage. "You know I'm not the one who's going to hurt you. I'll take you home."

"fucking dog," you growl in response, seeing how he swallows the insult, "Do you think I'll go with the one who made me like this?!"

Your voice is almost hoarse with hate. At the same time, Leon's face takes on a painful appearance, as if he was hit from the inside in the most painful place. That's what that son of a bitch told you! Okay, you can scold him with the most vile words, most of which he'll really be surprised that you even know, but... No buts!

"See?! I'm not afraid of you anymore! "

"You've never been afraid of me."

"You loved me, and I still love you," he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. And after all, somewhere in the whirlpool of memories, these frames sometimes pop up in your head. Not the Stotholm syndrome...

You weren't afraid of him, but of the other one... the man who is your husband calls you by a different name, although Leon calls you by a completely different one, and what you hear from the agent seems much more familiar, more correct and more familiar.

"Baby, I don't want to hurt you! If I wanted to, I would have shot long ago, right? "

"I'm not your baby!" you're snarling, and your red eyes are burning even brighter in the dark.

Bad word.

Leon wants to bite his tongue. He still doesn't know about all the properties of your mutation, but he hopes that now you won't have claws behind your back, God bless him who left him many years ago, but it seems you don't have anything like that. Although when you attack him in a fit of anger, Leon really hurts like hell, which makes him even clench his teeth trying to hold back a moan of pain.

Probably, with strong malice, the power also somehow increases... A lot of times, because it looks like you broke his rib.

"Yeah, you never liked that word, but at least you didn't rush at me with a knife before," Leon still jokes, realizing that talking clearly won't help here. He doesn't want to use force, but it seems that there is no choice. He agrees that you may never love him more, but he won't leave you here either.

It is not even necessary to move to radical measures. Your head is bursting with pain again, causing tears to flow from your eyes and everything inside screams with fear, making you want to cower into a ball. Therefore, Leon does not expect you to bend at the knees and cry and start running away from him, just as you ran, according to Ada, all over the estate from Emerick. The wind licks wet tracks from your cheeks, scratching your skin when you run along the garden path, running out into a small open space before freezing in a frenzy, pressing your palms to your chest, as they did in a previous life, before mutation, when you were worried.

Cocoons.

A nightmare come true. Your heart was pounding and forehead was covered with sticky sweat, as were your palms from which the knife slipped.

"It's scary..." an inner voice echoes. You hear Leon running up to you and stopping too, looking at something he hoped to forget someday. Tears involuntarily flow down your cheeks, as if the real you are making your way, pushing someone else's personality into the background. Fire, pain, fear, a dart... This hellish pain that turns people into monsters, you haven't seen the staff, the estates, but now you understand what happened. Just like a divine epiphany.

Maybe it's just one of the reactions. Leon remembered from his own experience that not all individuals hatched from cocoons, but this was a huge rarity, and here as many as twenty if not more, however, this was the trigger. You remembered something.

The wet paths glowed in the light of the moon on your cheeks. If the situation had been different, Leon would have immediately tried to console you, but it seems that this could have become another stupid idea, on the other hand, your stupor could have been turned into a plus and they could have simply picked you up, put you in a helicopter and then calmly dealt with this crap. A tempting thought, of course, but... Something like a phantom pain... a feeling as if the whole body was burning again and being reshaped under high temperatures. Even the same hellish headache that sends a painful pulsation into the eyes. You were again struck by a short flash of memories, how someone’s strong hands held and stroked you while your body was changing and it definitely wasn’t your husband... his hands are icy, and his voice is dry, devoid of emotion... Maybe..

"Аt least it's clear where everyone has gone," a voice sounded from behind. It was getting harder to breathe and the world was spinning wildly in front of your eyes, so an inner voice told you to find where to land or your head was at risk of injury. This is not the first attack, but the most severe in the last few months. Anyway, your vague consciousness leaves you for a while, turning off, allowing you to get lost in fragmentary memories, but Leon's hands manage to catch you in time, carefully laying you on the grass.

Leon checked your pulse, the main thing is that your heart was beating and your chest was heaving smoothly. Apparently, it was an ordinary fainting fit against the background of a spectacle that caused you psychological trauma. He picked up your knife with which you tried to stab him a couple of minutes ago, was ready to take you away from this place as he had hoped earlier. Those guys who were still alive from his group proved that Emerick was not in the estate, but Leon did not believe.

And it's good that I didn't believe it. Leon didn't believe in miracles at all.

Well, right now he was definitely aiming to just pick you up before you regained consciousness, because trying to explain where the truth is and where the lie is clearly not the best idea. Calling a helicopter for evacuation and picking you up in his arms, hugging you closer to him, Leon quickly jumped up but heard a painfully familiar click to his right, which froze him in place.

“In the past, hands were cut off for theft, but I’ll assume that a colossal imbecile like you doesn’t know that.”

Leon grunts as he turns around. A tactical vest will protect his back and chest, but his head remains open for a shot.

"Then you should have been walking without hands for a long time," Leon retorts, putting you on a bench while delaying your rescue. "Looks like you didn't run away after all."

"I don't like unwanted guests, because of you, my wife and I will have to move to another place. It's a pity, she liked this garden."

"She's. Not. Your. Wife." Leon almost hisses, reaching for his gun, but jumps aside after a burst of three shots that were meant for him. "Bastard"

"I was informed that they did not get rid of you and I assumed that you would look for me at least out of a sense of duty to the country you work for, but please note that there are bigger fish in the sea. You seem to have a weakness for women with Asian features, so maybe you'll focus on your own preferences and not mess with my wife, whom, as I told you earlier, you just don't deserve. You have no idea what a valuable diamond she is, a nugget! One in a million!

Oh, this conceit! His measured and calm tone is annoying, Leon tries to suppress his anger at the fact that the bastard dug up information on him somewhere, but his attachment to Ada is in the past, although they still care about each other in some sense, but now there is you. And you are you, not the woman that Emerick considers his wife. Leon hides behind one of the cocoons and the bullets hit the non-dense flesh, after which a kind of ugly embryo that was once an ordinary person falls to the ground, forcing him to quickly take a better position behind the statue of the goddess Aphrodite.

"You've been living a lie for so long that you've come to believe it yourself!"

"Oh, sure, you know better!" sarcastic laughter makes anger boil from the inside, but Leon looks out of hiding just to look at you and make sure you're still where he left you. "We past even though we always knew that we were made for each other, and only by chance and then you got in my way! "

"I would have felt sorry for you if in your grief you hadn't tried to make an innocent girl into a copy of your dead wife and killed a lot of people in the process."

Leon pulled the safety off the gun. Now the main thing is not to catch a stray bullet and hope that this bastard does not turn into a giant mutated creature, because apart from four spare clips and another pistol, he has nothing and the space is not spacious enough to maneuver, besides, you could also get hurt. He has already forgotten that you can regenerate wounds, but nevertheless, there is no time to find out what is your Achilles heel yet.

"All for the sake of love"

"This is not love"

Leon pulled the trigger but Emerick dodged. There was a smell of gunpowder and something sickeningly acrid in the air, as if something had died somewhere and even the scent of flowers could not completely drown out this smell. You opened your eyes, but your head still continued to spin and the sharp noise of the vystreds only mocked your brain, forcing you to involuntarily pull up your arms and clap your ears with your palms, just like... Like when you were protected from zombies in a museum"

It wanted to hide, curled in a dark corner and not get out until everything resolves itself, although life knows how to throw surprises. You hear someone else's conversation, you hear how the one who came for you says that your husband is a sick cretin who considers it normal to infect people to make a copy of a dead person out of them, whereas he explains his reasons only with grief. The puzzle is not fully assembled and there are still many white spots in your memory, but some fragments have connected to each other despite the fact that you still do not understand who you are.

This shootout will continue for some time, and unnoticed by these two, you will slowly slide off the bench and see Leon and Emerick engage in hand-to-hand combat after they ran out of bullets. It is noteworthy that after losing your knife in battle, which is now proudly stuck in a tree post, he used his own, which he did not plan to part with, but since they are busy with each other, you calmly grabbed the handle and pulled out the blade, looking at your own reflection of scarlet eyes in steel.

You don't love any of them and you don't want to choose someone's side at all, but you also don't want to be tied to someone who actually infected you, having put so much effort into driving you crazy. You need to make a choice, and whether it will be right, only time will decide. Two people are fighting for one woman, although it looks like you are not a princess in trouble at all, and as Ada said, despite the effect of the virus, the real personality will still take everything back under his control, but the old life will never be. All dreams burned down along with that body, so you're also quite sincerely stabbing the family knife into Emerick's back.

The princess does not need a knight to kill the dragon, because she herself is able to stab him when he does not expect it. This is the simplest from the point of view of Leon's combat missions, but at the same time the most difficult. A scarlet stain spreads on the snow-white suit, but that's all. Emerick had not infected himself with anything, although his fate could not be called terrible. It was all for love, and he died at the hands of that love. A stupid death, which is even insulting, but not for you. And walking with you to the helicopter in the living room above the fireplace, Leon really understands why such an obsession arose...

You really look like the smiling girl in the portrait like two drops of water.

He was told that rehabilitation would take a long time, possibly years. You never spoke to him, you didn't even say a word, but you didn't attack him either. You just withdrew into yourself, allowing the doctors to conduct tests and identify whether you are ready to mutate into other stages when you receive any damage, but I was glad that you did not. In their opinion, all your physical data remained at the same level before infection, although perhaps you just deceived everyone well just so that they would leave you behind and not make you an experimental rat, allowing them to drain blood from you, but this allowed Rebecca's team to make a new improved vaccine. A dubious achievement for Leon, given the fact that you persistently ignore him.

He brings clothes, books, even begged for a TV for you to let you kill time and still nothing. You didn't even turn it on until the moment when, with fighting and shouting and after a bunch of official papers, Leon was finally allowed to take you home. They said that you don't have any regeneration and your injuries heal like on any other person, you don't rush at people in attempts to devour them, sometimes you still talk for more than five minutes a day (but not with Leon) and you don't have any unusual abilities. Nothing that would be of interest to the bigwigs of the government. You'd think that you'd literally become a black sheep, people would just start mistaking you for an albino, which is basically true now.

It's good when you can control some of your body's processes. This eliminates a lot of problems. At home, you curiously look at all these little things from your past life, thinking about what it was like to share this apartment with Leon, you look at the bed in which you must have slept with him, and it seems incredibly comfortable, although right now sleeping with Leon causes rejection. He does not climb into your personal space, no longer clings like a puppy, although he whines in the corner from the lost affection of a loved one. He gave you the bed, but he sleeps on the couch, brings breakfast and after a couple of months you get in touch.

It took Jill Valentine several years before she returned to the barn. Chris is so comforting, telling him that everything is still fine, but if necessary, he will let you go. One way or another, of course, he will check if everything is okay with you, but he will let you go if you still do not accept him back into your heart. Leon believes that therapy will help and you will remember your real self by separating the grain from the chaff. You don't have to love him again, although he will be happy if you ask him to stay by your side on a stormy night, hugging you after a nightmare. Then he will wrap you warmly in a blanket and press your face to his chest, gently stroking your back and comforting you with words.

Therapy will help and one day everything will be fine again. Kissing the top of your head, Leon wants to believe it as much as you do. At least you're willing to try.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon x you #resident evil 6

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blossomthepinkbunny · 6 months ago

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I'll probably just go on a rant after starting with this topic, but Helluva Boss really failed at showing us that Stolas doesn't look down on Imps. Or that he doesn't treat Blitzø as an exception, while not caring for Imps as a whole and the struggles they face. The only Imps/other lower-class Hellborns we see Stolas interact with are ones he:

-dislikes and shoves in Blitzø's face to make him feel guilty (Striker)

-abuses physically (his Butler)

-is indifferent to because they're on his side with being mad at Blitzø (Verosika, Tex)

-gets something out of (Blitzø, the guy at Verosikas party)

-ignores (Millie, Moxxie, Loona)

He gives Imps nicknames like: "little ones", uses the word "impish" as if Blitzø being an Imp implies anything about his behaviour (specifically his behaviour in bed). He tells Blitzø that his "friend", Striker tried to kill him, which either means that he believes every Imp knows/is friends with eachother or, that he said that to make Blitzø feel like he and Striker are like-minded (basically putting someone who was reasonably mad at him and tried to discuss their issues on the same side as someone who tried to assassinated him twice), which is manipulative as hell. He also ignores the fact that Blitzø couldn't come to save him because he had to take his daughter to the doctor (as if Loonas safety is less important than his, even though Blitzø has more of a reason to care for Loona than for him) and, that he sent Millie and Moxxie to save him (without them he literally wouldn't have survived). Stolas ignored Millie and Moxxie helping him in "LooLoo Land" as well, he only asked where Blitzø is because he is his "knight in shining armour", because he gets something out of him, which means he can just ignore the other Imps, who have no obligation/interest to sleep with him. Stolas being rich is never something he uses for the greater good. He could easily help Blitzø and his employees out financially, though I get that that might not be something Blitzø would want. But other than that as well, him seemingly having authority as royalty is completely useless. He only gets recognized in public when it's plot convenient (he has assassins trying to kill him as soon as he leaves the house in "LooLoo Land" and "Harvest Moon Festival", but going to a party with atleast 50 people or so is completely fine and no one seems to recognize him). We don't really see any of the duties he has as royalty. Apart from organizing the Harvest Moon festival, there really seems to be nothing he does (unless i'm forgetting something). The fact that he has to repress his sexuality also feels a little less impactful when you remember that Andrealphus and Vasago are also Gay. Though I guess we don't really know the connection they'll have to the story yet. The fact that he is super wealthy isn't really brought to focus either. He lives in a mansion and wears fancier clothes than the Imps, but that's just sorta it. Him being royal just makes the power imbalance much more apparent. Something that (from how I see it) was done intentionally, because Blitzø and Stolas were never ment to be endgame from the very start. At first it seems like Stolas is mostly just a running gag character, who got some depth in "LooLoo Land" but was never ment to be that important to Blitzø's story. He was more of a device that the I.M.P need to keep save, not because they actually cared for him (as he doesn't really care for them either), but because he is the only way they'll get to the human world. Characters that seemed like they'd be much more important to Blitzø's personal journey were:

-Moxxie (who probably gets used the best out of pretty much every character in HB, atleast in his relationship with Blitzø. Though they also didn't have real interactions for a while now)

-Loona (who hasn't changed her abusive behaviour towards him, because the show fails to give her meaningful screentime with Blitzø)

-Millie (who sorta has no real relationship to Blitzø aside from not really being dismissive of his actions. Though the Ghost episode might focus on how they met, etc.)

-Verosika (who they could've gotten more out of with the actually interesting relation she has to Blitzø, with a seemingly genuine and happy relationship they had, had they not sidelined her for the other, more uninteresting ship)

-Fizzarolli (who is utilized pretty well, though he and Blitzø got over their issues really fast and now they're just best buddies again with no complications and interesting moments whatsoever)

-Barbie Wire (Ya know, his sister who literally got nothing at all in terms of screentime, even though she should arguably be one of, if not the most important relationship Blitzø would need to be confronted with)

-Striker (who, from my understanding presented not only a threat to Stolas, but also a possible temptation for Blitzø to go against the system they live in. It was clear that he and Blitzø shared atleast some common ground, judging by the fact that he nearly became a new member of I.M.P because Blitzø liked him. They had chemistry and what Striker says about the system of hell is true and seemed like it would present a new option for Blitzø. A way to break free from oppression, which he might have never considered but is considering now that someone gave him a chance for things to change. But Striker got turned into a villian who completely lost the connection he shared with Blitzø. To become just another way the show could coddle Stolas by saying: "Oh no, Striker is saying that the upper class takes advantage of the lower classes?! But Stolas would never look down on Blitzø! He must be really aggressive and also, he was just hired by the evil Stella who wants Stolas dead for no good reason! So let's just ignore all the good reasons Striker has for wanting Stolas dead one way or another! Striker doesn't know what he's talking about, he was only an Imp suppressed by the upper class his whole life, how would he know what's best for Imp's?! Afterall Stolas is in love with Blitzø for real!!! That means that there is no problem with the royalty whatsoever and Striker and anyone like him should just shut up and stop complaining UwU..." <- definitely exaggerated)

(can you tell i'm really upset about what they did with Striker)

Some of these characters got dropped in order to make space for more screentime for Stolas, who is now considered the most important relationship for Blitzøs development, even though he should most definitely heal in other places, with other people before immediately deciding wether he wants to be in a romantic and sexual relationship or not. Blitzø has lots of issues and hurt a lot of people, there should be a lot of room to explore these relationships and to make Blitzø heal by sorting out his stuff, but the one he has with Stolas is not the one they should focus on first and foremost. If the way they've been writing Stolas for season two isn't going to change for the better, then I think he should've just stayed as an edgy joke. Atleast then he would've added context to the Imp's lower class status without taking away screentime from them and leaving way more interesting characters to be ingnored.

#vivzepop critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #anti stolitz #stolitz critical

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koshkamartell · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1

chapter warnings: pervy!Joel, pervy!Tommy, slut shaming, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, masturbation.

Joel Miller was frustrated.

Sure, he was almost always grumpy. He usually wore a scowl on his face and he was never short of a biting remark for anyone who dared annoy him. People knew not to bother him or engage with him unless absolutely necessary because of his quick temper.

But the frustration he had been feeling lately was more than just a facet of his surly temperament. There was an obvious reason as to why Joel was meaner than usual - although he wasn't completely cognisant of it himself - and it was because he was sexually frustrated. Completely and infuriatingly sexually frustrated. His mind and body had been forced into survival mode for so long that anything done for the sake of pleasure or joy was frivolous, almost incomprehensible. Even after settling in Jackson Joel could never quite let his guard down. He hadn't made friends or even entertained the thought of dating, and so Joel continued to remain repressed, tightly wound, and irritable.

His younger brother, Tommy Miller, was adept at navigating the storms of his older brother's character and had been Joel's main source of support in the town. Tommy understood the depth of pain Joel had endured and survived throughout the apocalypse and therefore forgave Joel's attitude to a certain degree. Until one day it had all been too much to tolerate.

Joel and Tommy had been working on a carpenting job repairing a set of porch steps for one of the houses. Joel had accidentally hit his thumb with the hammer he was using, causing him to throw the tool across the porch and snarl like an angry dog. Once Joel stopped swearing and blaming Tommy for distracting him and making him strike his own hand, the two brothers walked over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink.

"Ya know, you're actin' like a real asshole lately," Tommy grumbled inbetween sips of beer. "Even more than usual."

Joel just scoffed and took a shot of his whiskey, but purposely avoided meeting Tommy's eyes. He hated when his brother was right.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so cranky if you were gettin' some action," Tommy mused with a teasing little smirk.

Joel frowned at him, his cheeks tinging pink with embarrassment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, man. You're moody as hell. Wound up tighter than a damn rattlesnake, tryin'a pick fights over nothin', always complainin'." Tommy shakes his head. "Got too much pent up energy. Nothin' a good fuck wouldn't fix."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't be if people around here weren't so goddamn incompetent," Joel snaps back, but there's no malice in his voice. He feels embarrassed and exposed by Tommy's observation. "Got nothin' to do with....that."

Tommy chuckles and tilts his head slightly to the side, his brown eyes shining with a hint of mischievous. "When's the last time you had a woman?"

"None of your business," Joel mutters, turning away from Tommy.

Truthfully Joel cannot remember the last time he laid with a woman - he knows it would have been with Tess, years ago back in the QZ, but he had very little memory of those unremarkable instances of physical closeness. Those times with Tess were not ones of intimacy but rather opportunities for both of them to fuck away their stress and pain. There had never been any desire for more emotion or connection, atleast not on Joel's part.

"Well, maybe it's about time you get yourself back in the game, big brother. Whole new world of datin' and different kinds of people now." Tommy's voice is softer, more earnest now as he eyes Joel. "Whatever you're lookin' for, it's out there. Romance or just some company."

"Ain't lookin' for anythin', Tom," Joel mumbles before downing another shot of whiskey.

"Okay," Tommy concedes with an offhanded shrug. "Well, if you're ever interested in blowin' off some steam, I know someone who could help."

Joel shoots him a confused look. Tommy's lips quirk into a smug smirk and he leans over the table to quietly answer Joel's unspoken curiosity. Joel instinctively copies his action, turning his head slightly so he can hear better through his good ear.

"There's a woman in town, lives by herself. A widow. Real easy to get into. A few of the guys I know pay her visits, get what they need without any bullshit."

The realisation of what Tommy is insinuating hits Joel with full force. His face contorts with disdain.

"A whore?" Joel hisses lowly, his eyes narrowing on Tommy's.

"Not exactly," Tommy admits. "Don't have to pay her or anythin'. Just take her on a date or some shit. Hell, I think after a while the guys stopped even botherin' with dates. They just go there to fuck her. I hear she gets real horny, like a bitch in heat or somethin'."

Joel's hand tightens around the shot glass on the table. He's disgusted by what Tommy has said, appalled to think of a bunch of men using a woman so carelessly, that a woman would even be so desperate as to allow herself to be used. He's repulsed by the whole thing. Yet there is a tugging sensation in his lower belly that he cannot ignore.

A whore in Jackson.

Joel may be disgusted, but he's also undeniably aroused and intrigued.

I hear she gets horny, like a bitch in heat.

Joel's cock twitches in his jeans. He clears his throat and leans back into the booth, shaking his head. It is disgusting. Filthy. There's no way he would ever meet a woman like that.

Tommy grins and nods his head, the idea already set into motion. "I can set it up for ya."

"Don't," Joel growls. "Told ya, I ain't interested. Especially not in some whore."

That's the end of the conversation and nothing more is mentioned about you. Until two weeks later, when an unexpected meeting happens.

It's been a rough day on patrol for Joel. First, he was paired up with a rookie ranger who was too anxious to steer his own goddamn horse confidently. The rookie almost ended up getting caught in one of the traps set to catch raiders, then they accidentally took the safety off their rifle and fired it into the air. Joel was furious and it took all his restraint not to kill the guy. When they returned to Jackson Joel stalked straight over to Tommy's and Maria's house and demanded the man never work a patrol shift again.

The effects of stress consistently manifested itself in the same ways for Joel; the muscles in his neck and shoulders would tense up and his back would ache, his jaw would clench and his hands would fidget. Today all the chaos from the day weighed heavily on Joel and had taken a toll on his body. Tommy could see the suffering in Joel's eyes and felt bad; after all, it was his responsibility to organise work duties regarding patrolling and thus he felt partly to blame. Although he hadn't predicted any potential issues when he had assigned Joel and the rookie together, Tommy still wanted to make it up to Joel. He tried his best to assuage Joel's ire by dragging him over to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks.

Joel had initially resisted entertaining Tommy's idea but after an hour of playing several rounds of darts and pool, he was actually beginning to loosen up and relax. The alcohol mellowed his mood and eased the agony in his lower back, granting him enough relief to enjoy himself. He even made a bit of small talk with a couple of Tommy's friends that had ended up joining them.

At some stage during the evening Joel was standing in the corner of the bar casually watching one of the pool games. Tommy sidled up next to him with two glasses of whiskey and passed one to Joel.

"Judgin' by your face, I'd say this wasn't such a bad idea after all," Tommy grinned.

"Guess I was overdue for a night out," Joel admitted as he accepted the drink. "But kickin' your ass at darts always makes me feel better."

Tommy barked a laugh and clapped his hand on Joel's shoulder. "Fuck you, man. Ya only won the last round outta sheer luck."

"Bullshit," Joel smirked. "You lost because you got distracted flirtin' with Priscilla."

At the mention of her name, the brothers both looked over past the bar to try and get a glimpse of the kitchen area where Priscilla, the waitress at the Tipsy Bison that night, had disappeared to earlier. There was no sign of the red head woman who had been batting her eyelashes and giggling at Tommy, but only Clyde, the older heavyset bartender who knew all the regular patrons by name.

"Can't help when a woman wants a piece of me," Tommy chuckled playfully.

Joel rolled his eyes. It was typical of Tommy to be a little arrogant when it came to women. Joel remembered the days pre outbreak when Tommy would be reeling in one night stands on a regular basis (when he wasn't getting into drunken fist fights). He had known just what to say to charm a woman, how to apply an effective balance of flirtation and detachment in order to pique her interest. It seemed Tommy's skills were still alive and well even after the outbreak. His older brother, however, had always been the opposite - less wild and carefree, more responsible and mature, not at all interested in something as hollow as a one time sexual encounter.

How and why Maria managed to pin Tommy down and marry him was a mystery to Joel. Although he didn't particularly like the woman, it made Joel uncomfortable to witness Tommy flirt with another women when he was married to Maria.

"Well ya better quit it before Maria finds out and gives you a piece of her mind." Joel warned. "Sure she'd deck you one before you could even come up with some lame excuse as to why your hand was on that girl's ass just now."

Tommy snorted scornfully and downed a mouthful of whiskey. "What she don't know won't hurt her. Besides, a man's got needs."

Joel just shook his head. It wasn't his business, anyway. He was about to challenge Tommy to another game of pool when Tommy suddenly nudged his side with his elbow.

"Hey, hey, look," Tommy whispered hurriedly to Joel. "That's the woman I was tellin' you about."

Tommy titled his head toward a figure that had just strolled in. Joel followed Tommy's line of vision and when his eyes landed on you for the very first time, his heart skipped a beat.

You took a seat on a stool at the bar, shifting to smooth your dress under your ass. You were wearing a simple linen dress with a jacket that gave no indication of what was hiding underneath, and you had worn black boots on your feet. The outfit was mundane, nothing special. Modest is the term his old fashioned southern mother would've used, bless her heart.

Although Joel hadn't concocted much of an idea of how you might have looked inside his head, he was surprised by your appearance. Perhaps he expected you to be more provocatively dressed, with your physical assets on display, enticing whoever might choose to go home with you that night.

Idiot, he chided himself.

When you turned your head at a certain angle Joel was able to get a glimpse of your face. He was struck by how pretty your features were. Even from the distance of where he sat at the booth, he could see you were beautiful. No wonder you had men trying to pursue you - getting into bed with you would be a fucking dream.

Throughout the next half an hour Joel surreptitiously watched you as you sat alone at the bar while you nursed a glass of beer and occasionally chatted with the bartender. You seemed comfortable and confident, a sweet little smile etched on your mouth. But Joel noticed the way your shoulders sagged a little, how your fingers toyed with a bracelet on your delicate wrist. These minute details signalled that you weren't as carefree as you wanted to appear, that maybe you were somewhat nervous in this surrounding.

Why was he so interested to understand more when he doesnt even know you? Get a fucking life, Joel internally reprimands himself. You don't even know this woman.

It isn't like he would ever meet you, either. There's no way in hell he would let Tommy introduce the two of you. He had no intention of approaching you, either. He was not going to walk up and introduce himself and try make conversation with you. What the hell would he say, anyway?

"Hi, my name is Joel Miller. I heard you're an easy lay and love to fuck."

No. Joel was resigned to just watching you instead, like a strange voyeur who didn't even know your name. He justified his little secret surveillance stunt as a means of distraction from the obnoxious conversation around him, from the annoyance of Tommy and his crew laughing loudly and talking shit. He was content just to observe.

Until another man swaggered across the bar room floor and made his way over to you.

And who the hell is this guy?

Joel's hawkish gaze burned into the man as he watched him approach you, leaning against the bar with an arrogant grin on his face.

Is this one of your regulars? Have you been waiting for him to show?

The man came close to your face and said something to you, but Joel couldn't read his lips from so far away. You jerked back and turned your body slightly to the left, away from him, a clear rejection. The man didn't seem detered by your change in posture, though; he stroked his fingers over your shoulder and continued talking, even though you flinched from his touch.

Everything about him exuded a sleazy energy that incited a simmering anger in Joel's stomach. You weren't interested in his guy at all but he just wasn't giving up. Even though you pulled away and shook your head, he leaned closer and whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said had its intended affect; Joel saw your face crumple before you hurriedly slipped off of the bar stool and scampered out of the bar. The man remained, unmoving but chuckling to himself with what looked like cruel satisfaction.

What the hell just happened?

Joel didn't even think before he stood up from his seat and strode toward the saloon style doors, like an invisible magnet being pulled to follow you. He did not stop to question just why he felt an overwhelming need to chase after you and check that you are alright, for he was impelled in such a way that he himself cannot fathom.

Joel exited the bar and followed your silhouette into the darkness of the evening, forgetting all about Tommy and the others.

You are not even half way down the main street before Joel quickly catches up to you with long strides of his legs. He thinks to reach out and touch your arm to get your attention but he doesn't want to scare you. Instead, he approaches your side but stays a respectful distance from you.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?" He asks gently.

You stop walking and turn to face him, your eyes wide and brimmed with unshed tears. Now he is up close and can see your face in more detail, Joel feels an immediate pang of attraction to you. He is momentarily startled by how your eyes shine under the light of the streetlamp.

Pretty.

You instinctively take a step back and eye him warily, your brow furrowing slightly.

"I'm sorry," you reply, voice a little croaky with restrained emotion. "Have we met?"

Oh, that voice. You sound like a damn angel.

Joel swallows thickly and gives a shake of his head. "No, we haven't. My name's Joel. Joel Miller. I'm Tommy's brother."

You blink and sniff, a pathetic little sound, then give him your name in return. "Hi Joel. Yes, I'm okay."

It's a lie, Joel knows. You aren't crying but it is obvious that you aren't quite okay. Joel clears his throat and stands with his hands on his hips, suddenly feeling awkward. He doesn't know what to say, but he's also curious about the interaction with the man at the bar.

"I, uhm, I saw that guy in there, looked like he was botherin' ya."

You purse your lips and glance down at your shoes. He studies your body language intently as you wrap an arm around your middle and scuff at the ground with the tip of your boot. "Yeah, he's not a very nice person." You respond, low and soft. "But it's okay. I mean, I'm okay."

Joel nods. For some reason he feels compelled to ask for more details, to know just what was said to you to illicit your reaction and make you run away like that, but he holds his tongue. You are strangers, after all.

"Um, okay then," you nod back curtly, feeling just as awkward as Joel. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Wait, please." Joel inwardly cringes at the sound of his own voice, how his request sounds more like a plea than anything else. He hasn't spoken this many words to a woman for a long time and he feels incredibly self conscious, but the chivalrous part of him doesn't feel right that you are walking home alone when you're hurting. "You want me to walk you back home?"

His offer seems to immediately sour the interaction between you two. Something flashes in your eyes and a sound escapes your lips, something between a sigh and a scoff. There's an invisible wall suddenly put up, a palpable boundary that radiates from the change in your energy and the furrow of your brow. You are angry, annoyed. Insulted.

"No, I'm good thanks, Joel." Your clipped reply comes as you whip around and resume your journey home. You mutter something to yourself that Joel cannot catch. He stays frozen to the spot for a few seconds, slightly bewildered by what has just happened. He soon springs into action, that possessive pull urging him toward you once more, and he swiftly follows you again. But this time he does dare to reach out to touch you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, whoa. What's goin' on? Did I say somethin' wrong?"

You fling around to meet his gaze and glare up at him. "You can cut the chivalrous act," you snap. "Because it isn't happening, not tonight. Got it?"

Joel isn't discouraged by your defensive attitude. In fact he finds your assertiveness makes you even more alluring. Maybe you have a little more bite than what your appearance suggests.

"What are you talkin' about?" Joel asks softly, his hooded eyes staring into yours.

"Yeah, right," you snort. "Like you're really not pretending to be concerned about me just so you can get in my pants."

The accusation hits him like an arrow to the chest and his mouth hangs open in shock. The insinuation that his kindness is a only pretence to acquire something sexual from you offends him immensely; it is his turn to feel indignant now.

"Excuse me?" Joel growls out. "I was just makin' sure that creep didn't step outta line!"

His reaction visibly takes you by surprise; the look of resentment quickly disappears from your eyes and your features soften, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you listen to his words. You almost look sheepish.

"I got no such intentions," Joel states with a shake of his head. "'M sorry to bother you, g'night."

He's about to turn away when you suddenly reach out and grasp onto his wrist, giving it a small squeeze before quickly letting it go. He freezes in place at the contact, momentarily dazed by your touch. He can't remember the last time a woman touched him and the whole situation feels surreal. He clears his throat and waits for you to speak, too embarrassed to meet your eye now, opting instead to stare down at his boots.

"Joel, no, I'm sorry," you sigh heavily. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...well, I don't really have many friends here. And sometimes people get the wrong idea about me."

The wrong idea. What could that mean?

Despite not knowing, Joel feels a twinge of empathy for you. He is no stranger to judgement or being on the receiving end of someone's preconceived prejudice. He's reminded of Maria's hesitancy to accept him in the community when he first showed up, how some of the residents refused to even look his way, the whispers around town that he was a cold blooded murderer who would reek havoc on Jackson. Deep down it still hurts him to think about.

"It's alright." Joel murmers. "I'm sorry, too. Probably scared ya a bit, just comin' up outta no where."

You hum softly in agreement. "It's alright, really. It's nice that someone cares enough to ask."

A surge of relief rushes through Joel to see you are no longer upset. There is something about your smile, the tiny upturn of the corners of your mouth, that gives Joel a strange thrill of gratification. No one has ever had such an effect on him before; no one has ever made Joel want to prove his quality of character, to show his genunity to.

"Still wanna walk me, or have you changed your mind?" You inquire a little teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Joel can't help but let the hint of a smile ghost his lips. "Still happy to. If that's what you want."

"I'll lead the way."

Under your guidance, Joel chaperones you through several streets across town to the area where you live. The journey takes less than ten minutes and neither of you talk much. Your energy is refreshingly relaxed and calm, and you seem satisfied to just gently hum and occasionally stare up to admire the twinkling stars in the sky. Joel, however, is silent, his jaw clenching with tension; his mind is preoccupied with the echo of Tommy's voice.

They just go there to fuck her.

That is certainly not what Joel's goal is tonight, yet he cannot shake that low, sly intonation of Tommy's word from rattling around inside his head. Just how many guys have walked to your home using this very same path that Joel walks on now?

But something just isn't clicking for Joel. If you were such a slut, why were you so affronted by the mere possibility of him expecting more from you? From what Tommy told him, you should be more than willing to have a man ask to take you home.

Maybe Tommy was one of the people who had the wrong idea about you.

"It's just over there," your voice broke through his thoughts, directing him to the turn down the next lane.

Your neighbourhood was one of the more secluded residential parts of the commune, primarily comprised of cottages and small houses. Joel follows you halfway down the street to where your own cottage is located, nestled between an empty plot on one side and a modest looking house on the other side. The whole quarter looks vastly different to his own large two storey home and the others that surround it. Joel's neighbourhood is without a doubt more aesthetically pleasing and closer to the town centre, making it alot easier to access whatever supplies or services he needs to.

Maybe it was just a shit luck of the draw, Joel thinks. Families always take priority in regards to housing, after all.

The first thing he notices about your cottage is the bed of flowers in the meagre garden of your front yard. It is charming, a scant feature of beauty in an otherwise unremarkable habitat. He vaguely wonders what your garden looks like in the light of day, if the flowers are even more vibrant than they are under the lone street lamp on the sidewalk.

"Well, this is me," you say softly, trailing up to the porch. Joel grunts in response, lingering a little behind you.

The exterior of your cottage appears weathered and in need of a coat of paint. Joel doubts the foundation is durable enough to withstand the cold Wyoming weather. He makes a mental note to talk to the committee about it at the next meeting.

You turn to face Joel and notice him eyeing the broken swing that hangs pathetically on your porch. "It's always been like that." You grimace. "I've been meaning to get it fixed, but it always slips my mind."

"I can do it." Joel blurts out without thinking. "I can fix it."

"What? Really?" You raise your brows, surprised.

Joel nods resolutely. He approaches the swing and bends down to examine the splintered planks, running a hand along the frame to check for more cracks. "Won't take long to do. Just need some new wood, maybe a coat of paint."

"You know how to do that kinda stuff?" You question curiously.

"Mm-hm. Was a contractor back in the day," Joel murmers. "Can do it whenever you want."

"How's this Sunday?" You offer almost immediately.

Joel's head snaps up to look at you, eyes wide, briefly stupefied by your eagerness. You give him a grin and a little shrug, and Joel feels a tinge of pink bloom over the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yeah, okay," Joel clears his throat. "Sunday mornin' alright with you?"

"Perfect." You gift him a sweet smile of appreciation. "Well, you know where I live. Thanks for walking me home."

Joel just nods as he straightens back upright, his eyes shifting to avert his gaze back to the street. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Joel," you all but purr before opening your door and slipping inside.

Joel meanders back to his own house, feeling dazed. He recounts his interaction with you over and over in his mind, recreating the nuances of your body language, the silky lilt of your voice, the way that firey sparkle danced in your eyes when you challenged him. Your words replay over and over, the sound of his name floating from your mouth, your barely audible humming.

When Joel gets home he fucks his fist until he climaxes with a startling intensity and his warm cum spills over his pillowy stomach.

#joelmillerdark!#joel miller x reader #joel miller #dark! joel miller #tommy miller #dark!tommymiller

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greenteabelle · 16 days ago

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what if seo moonjo was a triangle masked soldier while yoon jongwoo was player 333 ?

( somewhat spoiler-y )

imagine the possibility of moonjo getting approached to become a pink soldier , enticed not with the prospect of "easy" money but an outlet for his very murderous desires . and yeah , moonjo may dislike using guns due to its lack of intimacy , but the gamemakers have caught him at a time of frustration because of the police getting increasingly wary about eden apartment's oddities .

so moonjo says yes .

and he's perfect for the job .

moonjo eliminates players left and right with frightening accuracy and efficiency , his eyes remaining cold and unwavering as he looks through the scope to find his next target . sometimes , he'll miss on a whim , and if his victim wounds up in an incinerator that somehow rarely produces ash , well .

that's not really any of his business , is it ?

2 or 3 years in , it's getting a little boring for moonjo but he knows that quitting won't be as easy as they promise , so he quietly plans his escape while he prepares for his last year .

then he sees yoon jongwoo player 333 and thinks , oh .

he's perfect .

jongwoo on the other hand , is just about fucking done with everything in his fucking life .

if he knew that he'd be roped into a game where he gambles his life for billions of won , jongwoo would at least have completed the job of killing shin jaeho before coming here .

well , at least he tried .

it would be putting it lightly to say that jongwoo was at his lowest point so far in his life when the strange man in a suit approched him in the subway station . unemployed (stapled his resignation letter into jaeho's forehead among other things) , alone (broke up with ji eun , guilt and betrayal brewing an ugly concoction in his gut) , and on the run (jaeho was somehow still conscious enough to call the police and tell them who paralysed him , a shame really) , jongwoo played the game without a moment's hesitation .

when it came to taking the card however ...

... jongwoo hesitates .

it's not because of the humiliation that wells up in his throat each time he's slapped . jongwoo is numb enough to swallow that down with no trouble . it's also not because he doesn't need the money . hell knows how much he needs to get out of the country and live a new life .

it's the blatant excitement that shines in the recruiter's eyes at the sight of blood blooming on the corner of jongwoo's lips . it's the way the recruiter rubs his fingers together after each slap , as though chasing the split second of warmth when his palm connects with his cheek .

jongwoo feels uneasy .

... he takes the card anyway .

when the first elimination happens , the blood sprays across jongwoo's face .

he expects himself to flinch , to fall , to scream and claw at his face to try and get rid of the metal stench that's overwhelming his senses .

through the scope on his sniper rifle , moonjo watches the grin bloom on player 333's beautifully bloodied face , and falls .

yeah so that's about what i cooked up for this au and i'm sure someone has done this the moment yim siwan was announced to be in squid game s2 but i just needed to let out the voices in my head that screamed for more player 333 content so !

thoughts on season 2:

loved the addition of new perspectives , both from players and soldiers , and the players just feel more personal now .

interested to see gihun's development as his beliefs continue to be tested , but he'll most likely remain good because i don't think the director would end this franchise in such a bleak manner .

no eul's character has a low of potential , but she might be tied down to the one (1) male player she barely knows so idk .

yeah myunggi is going to die in season 3 but he survived season 2 and has an actual kill count so A WIN IS A WIN !

#this is the toxic yaoi i want man is that so hard to ask #squid game season 2 #squid game #squid game spoilers #player 333 #lee myunggi #yim siwan #hell is other people #strangers from hell #yoon jongwoo #seo moonjo #lee dongwook

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applepixls · 4 months ago

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hey guys. have you heard of hadestown.

(its a musical that meshes the myths of orpheus & eurydice and hades & persephone)

orpheus is a naive (sorta sheltered?) bard who acts on his whims while eurydice is a realistic and tough girl who's doing all she can to survive

hades is king of the underworld and keeps persephone there a lot of the year meaning there's a lot of winter up above

now hear me out.

3rd life.

scar as orpheus, grian as eurydice.

wedding song as scar proposing they take over the desert, the second verse being grian suggesting they take the dark oak. now, imagine all I've ever known as a dark night dancing in the desert not to mention, "its a sad tale, its a tragedy" (bonus: in a gathering storm eurydice calls for orpheus and he isn't there because he's off writing his song, narratively similar to grian calling for scar in double life when everyone was digging around for their sugar cane while scar was off accidentally lighting the place on fire and petting the jellie pandas)

extra bonus ideas:

persephone sounds like bdubs? like, listen to livin' it up on top. the gritty voice/singing and all her attitude (/pos) and some of the lyrics "who makes the summer sun shine bright?/thats right! persephone!" (he was the esmp2 sun god!) she sort of reminds me of the vibe bdubs gave off when he was ren the king's guy in s9 (my impression was he was kinda frantically running around at ren's whim, its not at all the same with hades and persephone but there's the sort of obeying a king thing)

leading me to my next thought of ren as hades. someone i was listening with said "winter has come" which made me think of "red winter is coming" dfhj

but another thought is just the last life ethubs divorce? seems very relevant with bdubs persephone parallels

also in hey little song bird hades refers to eurydice as a canary and we all know whos a canary

hermes (conductor of the train on the road to hell) and the fates play a narrator type role except hermes is more explicit while the fates are the humming in the back of your head they weave the path of how everything goes and you cant defy them

martyn throughout all the series is a sort of nomadic no solid home kinda guy and always self aware (he makes the lore-) which connects him to hermes for me but at the same time the fates are very much watcher/listener things so like bigb and martyn? (i don't know the lore sorry lol) i'd also say that somehow impulse's littlefinger flip floppy triple double agent character in third life gives a vibe like he knows whats going on in all the groups also connecting him to them for me

(i will say scar could fit hermes as well in being a sort of travelling sales person in last life and a bit in double life? also I've read dirges in the dark which means i see him and the devil and making deals with complicated clauses as very interconnected)

my final note (and being a devils advocate)

scar could also parallel hades.

if you watch his perspective he's very happygolucky and doesn't seem to get the real weight of the situation and such but from other perspectives his and grians deal seems kinda like he's had grian sign away his soul or he's kidnapped grian and there's some stockholm syndrome happening (its actually grians guilt but i digress)

hades convinces eurydice (scar is a silver tongued man) to sign away her soul to him and also the story of hades and persephone is that he kidnaps her and she eats some pomegranite and has to stay in the underworld for part of the year

sooo yeah. paralells between hadestown and 3rd life/life series. enjoy.

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elf-osamu · 2 years ago

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“WOW, I REALLY CAN’T SPEAK, HUH? MUST BE BECAUSE OF HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK”

[ masterlist ] [ event ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

fluff, romantic relationship, lucifer, mammon, barbatos x gn!reader

warning(s) : mammon’s one is kinda sad at first ?? mostly bc he’s overthinking things ☹️ probably he’s a bit ooc but idc he’s gorgeous regardless (let’s say you two are at the start of your relationship in this one-shot).

words count : 2587 words

request: “howdy may i rq an obey me scenario with this prompt —> “wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look.” gn! mc says it ! would like it to be with lucifer, mammon and barbatos. maybe something like them rambling and asking if mc is listening and they drop that line ^ thank youu”

a/n : AA FINALLY AN OBEY ME REQUEST 🫶🏻 i love those characters with all of my heart, aND THIS PROMPT IS SO GOOD, it’s one of my favorites !! thank you for requesting btw <33 and i apologize for the long wait :( i had no time to write between school and personal matters. anyway, just so you know, lucifer’s and mammon’s ones are soooo long while barbato’s is auite short, i kinda rushed it because i felt bad since i’ve been neglecting requests lately 😭😭 (yeah this is the second time i’m posting this)

LUCIFER :

as the student council vice president, lucifer is well known among the royal academy of diavolo’s demons and angels: although being a composed individual most of the time, he has also an intimidating and almost cruel side to him because of his status, hence why many demons fear him. his fierce, self-assured demeanour is somewhat entrancing, capturing everyone’s gaze in an unbreakable trance, plus his aura of pride is something inevitable in everyday life.

this is not to mention his complicated past and the authority he possesses thanks to lord diavolo, which — according to many demons and a few angels — give more might to his persona.

although sometimes you were the main cause of many troubles in the past, now you can consider yourself quite privileged to be in his good graces. as his partner you have access to a vulnerable part of him that not everyone has a chance to see, where his pride comes off and his insecurities and annoyances emerge, and you can afford to be bold with him.

this very day, he is complaining about a bunch of ‘inferior’ demons who have caused a rather bothersome fuss during curses and hexes class, knocking out a student, giving a headache to your beloved: lucifer knows perfectly well how to put someone in their place, even forcefully if necessary, however it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel pressured and tired after doing his duty.

the stress derived from all of his responsibilities, and from the piles of paperwork stubbornly sitting on his desk nearly every day, highly increases over time.

now the two of you are in his study, lucifer is rereading the report about today’s incident he just finished to write while you intently watch him work, helping him here and there. frowing in displeasure, he keeps changing a few sentences, wondering how the hell he’s going to survive this afternoon.

however, you can’t help but admire his handsome features: his black eyes shine with a reddish light, they are a little jaded but also alive; his rosy lips form a straight line, emphasizing his concentration, but no less beautiful; his cheeks are covered with a slight sheen of blush, probably due to his weariness; what to say, his demonic beauty is undoubtedly striking.

being too busy with your thoughts, you don’t realize he’s trying to get your attention to what he has been saying for the past few minutes.

“[name], are you listening to me?” he asks, lips slightly parted at your silence.

it’s almost funny, the fact that he completely ignores the reason of your quietness.

“[name].” at this point, lucifer’s voice is filled more with worry than irritation. why aren’t you responding to him? is something the matter?

as he’s about to ask another question, you snap back to reality, slowly turning to your senses.

you try to say something to seem completely nonchalant, but your voice — hoarse from nervousness — betrays you, and you can’t help but observe again your partner, who is frowing even more than before. if that’s possible.

you sigh, in defeat with yourself, and a genuine grin makes its way onto your face. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look”.

at first, he doesn’t really process those words.

although his gaze is fixed on your figure, his mind is fuzzy from all the work he’s currently doing, almost as if he were in a dream-like state, not at all focused on the present world. there’s silence for a few seconds in the room you two are in, and you’re asking yourself if you need to bring lucifer back to reality. but when you’re about to talk to him, you shift slightly on your sit, and his brain registers the movement.

so, suddenly, realization hits him. perhaps, too suddenly.

if it weren’t for his majestic pride, he’d cover his face, now completely red — but, doing so would be admitting his confused (but contented) mood derived from the sound of your words, which is inadmissible to him. so, all he can do is pretend that he’s not impressed by what you have said, even if his body is betraying him: in addition to the blush on his face and neck, his eyes are filled with astonishment and his lips, slightly parted again, form a small circle, defining his astonishment.

finally, he glares at you — taking back a part of his self-control — and seems to be lost in thought, probably wondering how he should face the situation without feeling too embarrassed; you can almost see the gears of his brain working wildly, desperately trying to find a simple solution.

and then, his eyes sparkle.

never underestimate a demon, especially if it’s lucifer. have you flustered him? well, be prepared, because he’ll pay you back in the same coin.

he adjusts himself on his scarlet armchair, which highlights his shimmering eyes, and leans towards you, over his desk. you can tell by his look that, if you let him speak, his words will be the death of you. and there’s no way you’ll allow it.

“too bad i need to be in another a class in, like, five minutes,” you blatantly lie, checking your wristwatch, and getting up. you lean just a little to give lucifer a quick peck on the lips. “well, see you later, pretty boy”, you wink at him and leave the room in a hurry, without giving him enough time to process what has happened.

yet again, he’s stunned by how you’ve called him.

the avatar of pride may be confident and assertive, but his heart can only flutter when someone is genuinely complimenting him. especially if it’s you.

MAMMON :

“… and so he blamed me! me, do ya understand? he, without hesitation, cursed the great mammon in front of the whole class! what an outrageous thing to do, don’t ya think!?”.

one interesting thing about the avatar of greed is that, despite his attempts to play it cool, he’s not confident about himself. thinking about it, it can’t but make sense: he’s driven by his multiple desires — money, for example — and craves them every time there’s a minimal absence of those, including external approval; he needs to be seen and accepted by everyone.

admitting it out loud would probably never be an option, considering his stubborn nature, but mammon would do anything to make you smile or laugh at his jokes — anything. he wants to be worthy of your attention — because in his mind he’s not deserving of love, particularly yours. of course, if you asked him something about this matter, he’d say the opposite — he’s everything but good at communicating his needs.

getting to know the demon hasn’t been an easy task, but with time you’ve managed to discover that there’s a soft side to him — a kind, warm heart behind his usual carefree mask.

despite all these thoughts spinning in your head, in this moment you are still fascinated by mammon’s temper and gestures: his hands, shaken, are moving quickly in the air, a slight pout is adorning his face, and his eyes are glimmering in bitter frustration — the sky of the devildom is reaching his darkest shade of colour while he looks vigorous yet ethereal.

“… handsome”, you murmur, as if talking to yourself.

mammon suddenly stops in his tracks, a slight embarassed expression appearing on his face.

“oh? what did ya say?” he asks, confused yet hopeful, thinking that maybe he has misheard you — because how could someone like you view him as nothing but that? sure, you’re his partner, however the fear of not being seen and loved for who he really is… is always present.

you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? ah, must be because of how pretty you look…”.

the noises of the night fill the atmosphere between you two in this moment; mammon’s brain has stopped working and, honestly, you can’t blame him: saying that he’s taken aback by your remark would be a great understatement to describe the current situation.

the avatar of greed is feeling so many emotions in so little time — his heart is pounding stronger than ever, you can almost hear its soft sound, and a reassurance which he has never felt so intensely is hugging his chest. these sensations are something he would gladly immerse himself into, a new type of greed to add to his long and interminable list, a new need.

unfortunately, the clock is ticking and mammon doesn’t want you to see his true self, not in a moment so embarassing for him, not like this — though he would love to indulge in this sweet pleasure for a while longer.

“you— human! what are ya thinking, speaking like that to your first demon? ya sure are bold! i’ll close one eye for this time, so consider yourself lucky tonight, because the great mammon won’t be so gentle in the future!”

a quick laugh escapes from your lips and, before he can question it, you grab his jaw with one of your hands, so his eyes can only be directed towards you.

“mammon, sweetheart, drop the act. you are making a fool of yourself and, although you’d be so entertaining to watch right now, you need to realise that i love you, truly.”, your gaze softens and you smile at him, making his heart melt. “it’s okay to not understand why you are cared about — but i want you to know that you are important to me, so, so fcking much. we’re in this together — aren’t we? then, will you allow me to show why and how i’m going to love and take care of you, mh?”.

mammon remains still as you finish your speech; his unsteady breath, however, betrays him.

“[name], i… thank you”, he says, unsure on how to continue his response.

“talk your feelings out, if you feel like it. i’m not a judge here,” you reassure him.

his gaze shifts for a moment, symbolising his indecision, but then it returns to yours. “i’m… i am glad to have ya in my life, [name]. but, well, i suppose i have one request to make”.

your smile turns suddenly into a smirk, finally happy to see your boyfriend taking courage to express his feelings.

“yes, dear?”.

“be greedy with me,” he pauses, slowly breathing in and out to not mess up his next words. “indulge in my sin whenever you can, day by day, and don’t leave anything behind. spare nothing, let the greed take control over you, like i’ll do with you from now on”.

“oh now, now, who is the bold one?” you murmur, getting closer to him. “you’re extremely covetous, mammon, and this is one of the many things which i appreciate about you. i already made a pact with you, so i don’t see a problem with your request. i accept it”, and you kiss him, as if you’re sealing the deal.

who would have thought that one of the greatest demons of all the realms could feel such things for a human?

BARBATOS :

despite being barbatos’s partner, it’s not quite often that you’re invited over lord diavolo’s castle to spend time with two of the most powerful demons in the devildom. the reason why is actually pretty simple: your lover’s life is full of events to attend and favors to give. his presence is requested by every kind of beings, alongside his trusted services to the devildom’s prince, resulting in little to no space left for your meetings. the same can be said for you, since your school life isn’t exactly giving you energy to talk to him either — so you could say you two are fair.

this evening is different from the usual, since you were invited for dinner — a rare, but pleasant occasion to find yourself in. the one who has arranged it all is, nevertheless, lord diavolo himself: though he often acts oblivious of his requests, he has a keen eye for his butler’s mental state — so it would have been only a matter of time before he found out about barbatos’ single desire to relieve his stress… you.

using the “celebration” of your school achievements as an excuse, diavolo set up these hours in his magnificent mansion just for the two of you — saying that he’s attended elsewhere and oh so unfortunately he won’t be able to remain with you even for a while longer.

this is the premise of the current moment — you are quite literally squeezing your boyfriend, hugging him from behind, while he prepares his nightly skincare routine. he’s looking at himself in the mirror, dark green eyes are inspecting his state: his hands are on both sides of the sink, slightly supporting his robust and elegant figure; his torso is covered by a black tank top — something you’d rarely have the chance to see, considering barbatos’ extreme care for a professional appearance; his cold but soft skin seems bright, almost shining, under the tender lamp’s light.

his lips are smartly moving, giving life to his thoughts, however you are too focused on him to pay attention to his words.

“[name]?”

the sudden call of your name wakes you up, but only for a second.

“mh?”

his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “are you listening to me?”.

“mmh mh”, you nod, not registering his question at all, and continue to admire him in silence.

obviously, he’s completely aware of it — after all, he’s the demon who can see through both the past and future.

with a swift movement of his body, he turns to face you, making you cling to his waist.

with his right hand, he gently holds your chin between his fingers. “would you like, my love, to share your thoughts on the matter? you seem rather unfocused tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”.

you swallow, waiting for your confidence to come back. then, you try to give back the same energy of his — since you wouldn’t like to lose to his antics, not again.

“damn, i really can’t speak right now, huh? must be because of how pretty you look, barbatos. it’s actually not fair”.

although you don’t look nearly as self-assured as him, you regain a bit of your control when you notice a hint of hesitation and bewilderment on his face.

he scoffs, looking away from your eyes — and doing so makes it evident that his ears are bright red. you catch the opportunity right away, moving his hair away from the sensitive skin.

“ah! if only the others saw you, the formidable barbatos, right now! you wouldn’t be feared so much,” you teasingly comment, preparing for his next move.

“i wouldn’t be so daring if i were in your place, [name]”, barbatos remarks jokingly — but you can never be so sure when it comes to him: as proof you have his piercing gaze fixated on your face, which conveys a message that you couldn’t otherwise pick up.

“well- i guess i’ll make it up tomorrow! aren’t you tired? it’s been an exhausting day — let’s watch a movie!” you suddenly suggest, not resisting to his towering yet fascinating aura.

he sighs as you quickly evade from his arms, though he’s suppressing a smile.

barbatos supposes he can let one person to make fun of him.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

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