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mlcheely · 2 years ago

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It's Just A Game... CHAPTER ONE. ☆

DATE : ┃JANUARY 17TH, 1998. LOCATION : ┃ RACCOON CITY HOSPITAL. TIME : ┃12:17 AM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

The hospital’s lobby is quiet and the rain has let up significantly in the past couple of hours. The only person, apart from the nurses, who seems to inhabit the lobby is Jill. She passed out in one of the waiting chairs after Chris dropped her and the mystery woman off.

Chris had offered to keep Jill company during the night, but she insisted that he went home. “I don’t want to overwhelm her, Chris. Who knows what might’ve happened to her. I promise I’ll stay here all night, okay?” Not wanting to argue, he did what she asked but only under the condition that he would be back for her in the morning. “Of course,” Jill agreed before crashing not long after her colleague had left.

As a nurse walks up to one of the stations, a blonde woman in a lab coat approaches simultaneously. Her attention is glued to the clipboard in her hand — seemingly oblivious to the environment around her. The name tag attached to the lab coat reads ‘Dr. Annette Birkin,’ a name the nurse suddenly addresses with a charming smile. “Hello Dr. Birkin, how are you doing tonight?”

Dr. Annette Birkin has a reputation for being cold and reserved, so no one should be offended if she were to respond in an off-putting manner. “Fine, has Jane Doe’s vitals been checked yet?” She asks, laying the clipboard onto the counter and starts flipping through pages.

The nurse feels her smile fall, and she awkwardly clears her throat. “Y-Yes, and she’s in stable condition. Her whole body is covered in cuts and scratches, but nothing life threatening. However, we came across something strange when we ran a couple of x-rays. We noticed her vocal chords have been damaged. We have a theory it’s from excessive amounts of screaming, but we aren’t completely sure yet.” She goes quiet after this, looking at Annette’s blank face for approval before changing the subject. “O-Of course her vocal chords should heal within six to eight weeks.” The nurse swallows.

Annette’s gaze flicks to the nurse, “Hm...remind me, how did Jane Doe arrive?”

The nurse straightens, “Two S.T.A.R.S. members brought her in. One of them is still waiting in the lobby.”

Annette furrows her brows. “What for?” She dryly asks.

“The officer said she wanted to speak with the Jane Doe,” The nurse replies, “but I told her she couldn’t until the Jane Doe was awake.”

“Jane Doe hasn’t woken up yet?” Annette inquires, prompting her interest.

“Not since the last time I was in her room.” The nurse responds.

Annette knows now is a good opportunity to get a blood sample, even if there’s the possibility Umbrella acquires the subject later. It is peculiar how the vocal cords have been damaged — but no matter. The patient could be a fine specimen regardless if she can speak or not.

The nurse smiles before heading in the opposite direction of Dr. Birkin. Annette returns a weak, fake smile that fades once the nurse is out of sight. She then makes her way towards Jane Doe’s hospital room, grabbing a syringe from the counter and sliding it into her pocket in the process. Her hand stays inside her lab coat’s pocket as she crosses over the room’s threshold and closes the door behind her. The sounds of the television in the left corner of the ceiling and the hospital equipment cover up Annette’s footsteps. She approaches the woman’s bedside slowly sliding the cap off the syringe. Upon closer look, Annette now sees exactly what the nurse was talking about.

Small cuts, scratches, and scrapes seem to be scattered across the woman’s body — some of them covered by gauze. It’s a pitiful sight to see, but Annette doesn’t waste time pitying people. She has a job to do.

Annette grabs the woman’s left arm and injects the needle into the area. She begins extracting the blood sample. The woman stirs in her sleep at this, prompting Annette to pause. She retreats the needle only to discover she got enough for one sample, but it will have to do. Trying not to get caught with the blood sample, Annette leaves the room hastily. Never knowing that she was being watched.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

It started with a slight sting — a familiar sting, like a needle — then came the distinct sound of a television, and finally the slow beeping of medical equipment. The young woman’s brows furrow as pain sets over her body, barely able to move without being a victim of discomfort. She’s about to open her eyes when she feels some sort of wrapping get pulled up her arm and she freezes, alluding to whoever is in the room she’s still asleep.

Faint footsteps are heard walking away from her, but she is unsure due to the volume of the television. She slowly cracks her eyes open to check, but she only catches a glimpse of a blonde woman leaving the room putting something into her lab coat pocket.

The Jane Doe doesn’t think anything of it and chooses to look around the room instead. Golden Girls is blaring on the TV, playing an episode she has already seen. There’s an IV machine attached to her arm, the clear liquid in the bag dripping down the tubes. The sounds of rain and thunder she remembered are now gone, with remnants from the hospital’s roof trickling down the sides of the building. She looks back up to the TV as a laugh track roars through the room. She swallows, but she winces at the pain. She then looks down at her arms and legs that are half wrapped in gauze. Her eyes blankly stare at the uncovered cuts and scratches along her body. Just what exactly happened to her?

She isn’t given time to ask herself anymore questions before a nurse in plum colored scrubs steps into the room. She’s distracted carrying a clipboard in one hand and a basket of gauze in the other, cheerfully closing the door before turning around and making eye contact with the young woman. “Oh! You’re awake, how are you feeling?” She sweetly asked the confused, hurting woman laying in the bed. The young woman starts to speak, but quickly realizes exactly why her throat hurts. She’s lost her voice.

“Aw, yeah, I expected that. The good news is you should be back to normal in six to eight weeks.” She smiles as she walks over, placing the clipboard to the side. She then starts resuming her process of wrapping up the woman’s wounds. Losing her voice the least of her worries compared to the hurt she feels from being touched. The pained woman makes faces as the nurse wraps her wounds. “Would you like me to get you some pain medicine? It should help with the pain for now.” Said the nurse.

The young woman nods, looking at the nurse’s name tag hanging from her top. ‘Judy Marks’ it reads. Judy finishes with the woman’s gauze wrappings, and she grabs the clipboard before exiting the room to retrieve something to sooth the patient’s aching. Once Judy leaves the room, Jane Doe prepares to sit herself up. She presses her palms into the mattress and her arms shake as she lifts herself upward. It’s a painful process, but as soon as she’s upright she falls back into the pillows from exhaustion. She looks up to the TV to pass the time but once a commercial begins playing — she freezes.

The commercial starts with a spokesman talking about a company that ‘treats its employees well and gives them an opportunity to make the world a better place,’ then advertising a product called “Regenerate” and some vague details about the research that’s been going into it. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it — she couldn’t have thought anything of it, because it’s not real. At least, it’s not supposed to be. The commercial is advertising the same products with the same name as a well known video game company. There should be a new game announcement or release date to follow — but nothing. This is weird. Like really weird.

Come to think of it, as the woman looks around the room again she now notices that everything looks outdated. WAY outdated. There’s not a modern piece of technology in sight, and the strange smell of the room is suddenly making her feel dizzy. Her anxiety begins to tear at her.

What kind of hospital doesn’t have modern equipment? Who was the woman that left her room before the nurse came? Wait — where is the nurse? If she wants answers, she’ll get them from the nurse.

The short while starts to feel like forever before Judy re-enters the room with some pain medicine, a cup of water, and a notebook. The young woman smiles weakly, excited for the medications to heal her afflictions but is confused about the notebook. She quickly brushes off the thought as Judy passes pills and water off to the woman. She swallows the pills and hands the cup to Judy once she’s done.

Judy sets the cup to the side and hands the notebook to Jane Doe. Judy then reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pen, holding it out to the woman. The woman looks to the nurse with a puzzled expression, but she takes the pen from Judy. “It’s for you to be able to communicate. I know it seems like it’ll be a long time, but your voice will be back before you know it.” She grins widely, “Let’s start with something simple. Do you remember your name?”

The young woman stares down at the notebook’s cover. In the corner, she spots one of the simplest of shapes. Perfect.

She opens the book and writes down something short and presents it to Judy. Judy scans over it and smiles. “Starr. That’s a pretty name.” Of course it’s not her real name — but she wants answers before having to answer her own questions.

Starr writes down something else, and Judy reads it over.

Are there any doctors working tonight?

Starr is met with a nod, a smile, and an answer that makes her stomach drop. She feels like she might throw up.

“Dr. Annette Birkin is working the floor tonight. Would you like me to get her?” Judy responds. Starr quickly shakes her head ‘no,’ and Judy taps her fingers before remembering something.

“There’s an officer waiting for you in the lobby wanting to ask you some questions. Would it be alright if she spoke with you?”

Starr subconsciously nods a ‘yes,’ still in disbelief at the words that came from Judy’s mouth. Is that who left her room earlier? The Dr. Annette Birkin…

No! Starr has to think rationally here. She’s mentally screaming at herself that this is all just one big coincidence as Judy leaves the room once again.

As soon as she’s alone, Starr feels her body become hot with worry. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. She wants to say maybe she’s dreaming or she could even be dead, but nobody hurts like this in dreams or when they’re dead. Nobody usually wakes up in a hospital, either. Starr pulls down the wrapping in the crook of her arm, and she spots it: A tiny needle hole that still flowed blood when she applied pressure to it. After pulling the gauze back up, Starr stares at the TV screen in order to distract herself from her growing anxiety.

Spotting Jill, who is still asleep in the chair, Judy approaches and begins to lightly shake her. Startled, Jill looks to the nurse with confusion but quickly realizes where she is and begins rubbing her eyes.

“Jane Doe is ready for you now.” Judy says. Jill stands up, eager to finally meet the person she’s been (literally) dreaming of meeting.

As Jill and the nurse enter the room, Jill can barely believe her eyes. Same hair, same wounds, same gown, and the same terrified look on her face. There really is no doubt in Jill’s mind now that this is who has been in her dreams.

Starr swallows hard. It’s Jill Valentine, the Jill Valentine, or at least this woman looks a LOT like the iconic character.

Jill steps forward and greets the woman sitting up in the bed.

“Hello, my name is Jill Valentine. I’m an officer from the S.T.A.R.S. division at the Raccoon City Police Department. I just wanna sit down with you and ask a couple of questions, is that fine with you?”

Starr physically nods but internally she feels her soul disconnect from her body. She’s so screwed. No — worse than that.

Jill has many, many questions.

‘Are you in danger?’

‘Do you recognize me?’

‘Do you remember anything?’

‘How do you know me?’

‘Is someone out to get you?’

However, Jill knows she can’t overwhelm the woman with so much at once. She just has to take it one step at a time.

As Judy leaves, Jill pulls a chair up close to Starr’s bed, and Starr feels confused, anxious, afraid — so many things all at once it’s maddening. She fiddles with her fingers while Jill gets comfortable. After doing so, Jill has no idea where to even start. She figures if she’ll start anywhere, she would like to know her name.

“Do you have a name that I can call you?”

Starr points to the same writing the nurse had read earlier, and Jill sits up to read. “Starr.” Ironic. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Starr. I’m sorry that we’re meeting under such circumstances,” Jill looks her over with a frown, “Are you feeling alright?”

Jill already knows the answer. ‘No.’ She can tell the wounds on her body are painful. From what still remained uncovered by gauze, the wounds have become surrounded by a bright red.

Starr motions her hand tilting left to right, signaling ‘eh’ to Jill. Jill tries a different question. “Do you remember anything from before you woke up here?”

Starr stares down at the pale white of the notebook’s paper, trying to piece together her night. How is it possible to have woken up in a fictional town in a fictional world? She remembers the storm and the electricity going out as she was getting a quick shower before bed. After that there was a bright flash, nothing else. Starr looks at Jill and shows the notebook after she scribbles down her answer.

I was taking a shower before bed and the power went out. Then there was a bright light and I woke up here.

There’s something written underneath.

Where was I found?

“You were found unconscious on the outskirts of town. You’re lucky we found you. You could’ve died from hypothermia.”

Starr bites the inside of her cheek. She hopes to God she wasn’t naked when she was found, but considering her whole body is covered in wounds she probably was. It’s better not to ask.

Starr nods, looking back down to the notebook and thinking of what to ask. What could she ask? What can she ask that wouldn’t put this woman’s whole existence and the world around her into jeopardy? Starr then looks back to Jill. The look in Jill’s eyes is sincere.

Starr knows deep down that if anybody would help her Jill Valentine would. But what will she say to her?

“I’m from the real world and basically you’re part of a simulation and none of this is real. Will you help me get home?”

That doesn’t exactly bode well for anyone.

Starr bites her lip. If she stays in this world for too long, who knows what might happen. In the real world, Starr is a big fan of Resident Evil, a zombie survival game set mostly in the town of Raccoon City. There are several other locations, but the games are centered around Raccoon City being the catalyst. Starr was never involved much in actually playing the games, but the stories, characters, and lore were all enough to get her hooked. She read every comic and book and watched all the movies she could get her hands on. She learned the entire Resident Evil history, which meant nothing in the real world. But in this world? That kind of information would be a gold mine for the right and wrong people.

Jill can see Starr is fidgeting, and she clears her throat.

“Starr, do you think someone did this to you? Or if there might be anyone who could be out to get you?”

Starr feels her stomach flip in excitement. An opportunity. Unfortunately, her excitement doesn’t last for long as she looks Jill in the face. Starr feels a wave of guilt wash over her, suddenly feeling guilty for lying. If she can figure out a way to get home, she’d get out of Jill’s hair as soon as possible. A little lying won’t hurt. After all, it’s just a game right?

Starr writes down a response onto the paper and hands it to Jill.

I don’t think anyone did this to me, but if I stay alone eventually someone might come for me. I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.

That’s not really a lie, Starr realized once she noticed Annette Birkin took a blood sample from her arm, which woke her up. There’s no telling what might happen to her if she stays in this hospital bed. Even worse, she’s not in a position to defend herself.

“Do you have any friends or family close?” Jill asks. Starr shakes her head no. Jill feels like she should take a shot with her next question. After all, you only live once right?

“Random question, do you,” Jill swallows, “do you recognize me?” She waits in anticipation while Starr is conflicted on how to respond. All this feels like one big dream to Starr. Wait, that’s it!

Starr nods her head and writes again.

From a dream, but I can’t remember it. Why?

Now that was a lie. Starr remembers her, but not from a dream. What did Jill mean? Has Jill seen her before?

Jill feels herself become ecstatic. Maybe she isn’t crazy after all.

“No particular reason. Do you happen to live anywhere around here?” Jill inquires, and Starr shakes her head. She’s nowhere near from around here. Jill furrows her brows at this. That’s strange. “Where do you live?”

Starr shrugs.

Jill is concerned. So far she has no reason to believe this woman is lying to her, but something is off and Jill can’t understand what it is. “Do you have any information we could use to identify you?”

Starr shakes her head, and Jill now becomes worried. Just who is this ‘Starr’? Where did she come from? Where will she go?

“Do you know a place you can go?”

Starr shakes her head. This just isn’t making any sense, but Jill’s good nature ultimately gets the better of her.

“Would you feel better if I offered you a place until you can find somewhere to go?” Jill asks.

Starr looks to Jill with a look of gratitude and nods her head. Jill and Starr smile at one another before they are interrupted by Starr’s growling stomach. Jill laughs. “Hungry?”

Starr nods sheepishly before Jill gets up and walks to the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

⋆

DATE : ┃JANUARY 17TH, 1998. LOCATION : ┃ RACCOON CITY HOSPITAL. TIME : ┃7:57 AM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

As the morning sun rises over the horizon and shines through the blinds, Jill blinks her eyes awake. She looks up to the window and squints at the bright sun. She sighs and stretches from her uncomfortable position in the chair. As she begins to walk over to the hospital bed, Jill notices how peaceful Starr looks while she sleeps. Jill smiles and walks over to the door, but as the door handle clicks she hears shuffling from behind her.

Starr sits up in bed with a look that was purely pitiful. It seems in her sleep the pills wore off.

“Hey, I’m going down to the lobby to wait on my friend to pick me up,” Starr becomes immediately worried but Jill calms her down, “When he drops me off at home, I’m going to come right back for you.”

Starr is delighted. Why is Jill going out of her way to personally bring Starr into her own home? Especially considering she’s a complete stranger? She isn’t sure, but it’s better than being stuck here than waiting around for what might happen.

Starr nods and Jill leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Starr looks over to the window and stares up at the bright blue sky. She hopes that Jill really does come back for her.

8:43 AM.

Time seemed like it would never end until Jill reentered Starr’s room with a wheelchair. Starr smiles as Jill helps her into the chair and she has one final glance at the terribly ugly, smelly room. That glance continued out into the hallway as the two approached the hospital entrance. Starr looks around.

Raccoon City is far different than she could have imagined. It’s a lot cleaner, of course, instead of being littered with zombies and crashed cars. Traffic isn’t terrible, some buildings are dull while others are bright and colorful, and citizens happily go about their day. It actually looks like a decent looking city.

Jill helps Starr into the front seat and pushes the wheelchair back into the lobby to hand off to one of the nurses. As Starr gets comfortable in her seat, she suddenly feels a pair of eyes on her. She looks up and notices the assumed Dr. Annette Birkin staring at her. Starr shudders before Jill opens the driver’s side door, pulling her attention away from Annette and smiling weakly to Jill. Jill smiles back at Starr before starting the engine and pulling away from the hospital’s parking lot.

As the two pull away, Annette turns and walks away from the window and makes her way into her office.

She closes the door behind her and locks it. Sliding into her chair and moving her computer mouse, a screen loads, and she clicks an icon. An email tab pulls up and she begins to type.

⋆

William,

Inform Wesker that he will need to look into someone by the name of Starr. She was transported to the hospital by two S.T.A.R.S. members, Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield. A blood sample I extracted from her is nothing like I’ve ever seen. She was discharged and left with Valentine only moments ago. See to it that this is done, I only had enough for one sample.

Annette

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #chris redfield #jill valentine #annette birkin #starr (oc)#isekai #S.T.A.R.S.#albert wesker #william birkin #umbrella corporation #pre-resident evil 1 #pre resident evil 1

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residentfurry · 8 months ago

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why did wesker leave work early?

#resident evil #resident evil 1 #re1 #pre-re1 #albert wesker #jill valentine #chris redfield #rebbeca chambers #jake's mom #(as in jake muller)#my art #they're all spying on him ..for shame #can't an evil mastermind spend some time with his sorta girlfriend that he has for a few months before dumping her #and leaving her by herself to (unbeknownst to him) raise their son?#they're all like WESKER HAS A GIRLFRIEND???????HUH #and wesker is like “having a gf makes me feel superior to others ^-^”#he's not. a good guy

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frankensteinmf · 25 days ago

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'a break aint that bad..' PRE-RE1 OCS X CANON FIC

Jackie is @silna-pdf 's oc, Jordan is @feng-shui71 's oc, Nikita is mine!!

a calm, quiet but rainy day took place in Racoon city. nothing much took place that day, (which the STARS greatly appreciated every once in a while) Lieutenant Nikita Yokovic was busy with the reports of the latest rookies. these days arent days where Nikita even bothers to train the rooks or attend the meetings of people who applied to work here. it didnt take long for Jackie to step in with her usual smirk and put an arm around her lieutenant playfully. '' hey lieutenant, you've been working for 8 hours straight. '' she said, trying to get the stubborn man out of his work flow. ''.. and?.. as far as i remember, i'm the one dealing with chief Iron the most.. if we disregard Al's constant arguments..'' Nikita replied.. Jackie is one of the very few colleagues he gives the 'can and will bother him at any moment' card: Jackie missuses that privilege any chance she gets. '' well maybe you need a break for once. we dont you collapsing in Cap's office like last month..'' god Jackie will remind him of the 'coffee incident'.. '' why dont you join me and Jordy in a quick smoke?.. comeon, it wouldnt be THAT bad..'' Jackie said, trying to get this bastard to listen for once.. after some heavy consideration, Nikita sighed.. ''.. make sure then we have a good spot then..'' '' i got it covered. '' Jordan said, suddenly appearing out of no where with blunts ready to use.. Nikita hoped to dear god Albert wouldnt notice the one time he caved in.

already an hour in and those three were as high as an kite.. Jordan having found a often abandoned janitor closet at the RPD building, they all sat there: relaxed and stoned like hell.. Jackie was constantly giggling, Jordan was just relaxed and Nikita was a mix of relaxed yet paranoid.. silence became a friend, a desired friend.. ''.. hey Jack's and Jords..'' Nikita mumbled. the two gals sat up looking at their lieutenant ''.. whats up Nika?..'' Jackie asked curiousily, Jorden listened but we all knew she was in another dimension.. '' no matter what hell we all end up with... you two always can be the best.. i know it..'' no one knew why Nikita said this or what he meant.. but he wanted these two to know, that no matter what life throws at them: they can always stand back up.

ENJOY THE SILLY FAN FICS BEFORE THE OCS SUFFER!! also please check Silna and Fengshui out THEY ARE AWESOME!!

#RE #RESIDENT EVIL #RE 0???#UH DAMN #fanfiction #TEE HEE #RE PRE 1 #RESIDENT EVIL 0??#IDK MAN #I WAS COOKING #I WANNA DRAW THIS SO BADLY #AAGAGAGGAGAGAGA

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cloversnstrawberries · 13 days ago

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"eschatological hope" platonic!yandere!albert wesker & B.O.W!teen!reader [twoshot] [pt 1] ! !

masterlist !

description; You're one of many 'subjects' of a strange underground facility, one that sources their patients from survivor shelters outside of cities affected by outbreaks, specifically ones catered to children who are either orphaned or lost their parents amongst the chaos. One day, the emergency alarm begins blaring; the pre-recorded code said through the announcement system was unfamiliar.

You took it as a chance to run, to escape this hell-- it was the best opportunity you could ever ask for. Too bad it doesn't go you your way.

additional notes; hello! this definitely was just supposed to be a oneshot, but i lost hold on my self restraint and just want to really start off my resident evil writing with a bang . i really love this idea, and i'm a sucker for religious imagery and references, so :) but also, there's a scary lack of platonic!yan albert wesker... i plan to amend that in the coming weeks as i dive headfirst into this special interest on here. it's not going away. help.

also! reader is intended to be a younger teen, around ~14/15 in here, but can be interpreted as younger or older!

warnings; Child experimentation, body horror, betrayal, mentions of the apocalypse, canon-typical bloods, guts, gore, and violence, death of a child/mentioned deaths of children (not reader), child abuse, guns, general terror, non-consensual body modification (the scientists altered reader with a virus strain </3), not very yandere in this part, but oh boy will shit hit the fan in the second part, heavy religious symbolism and references (which will only get more obvious in the next part), slightly soft Albert Wesker, and there might be more that I missed! if so, please be sure to let me know!!

w/c; 7.7k (oh lord)

I was so close, you mournfully thought-- your cheek pressed to the cold tile, a guard's boot dug into the back of your skull as he put more and more pressure onto your cranium.

You were so close to make it out of here- out of here alive. You'd seen countless other... subjects, is all they saw you as; come and go from this strange, underground facility.

It always ended the same, whether or not they tried to escape.

You were a fool to think you were any different.

You'd made it the longest, survived the most tests. You were weak, muscles atrophied and dizzy from how small the portions of the meals they gave you were-- even if they could hardly be called that.

Scraps. They were just scraps, just enough to keep you alive; but just small enough to discourage this kind of stunt.

They keep you weak, keep you under their thumb until the time came to crush you down beneath it. You'd witnessed this many times-- you're not sure how many, no longer seeing a reason to keep track of the numbers.

Last you'd counted, it'd been at 38. 38 dead, either shot because they tried to escape, or...

Jamie had been a good friend to you, throughout this hell of an experience. In hushed whispers, they'd tell you stories of their life; they lived so differently from yourself, having hailed from sunny California.

You exchanged stories about the crazy weather phenomena you'd experienced, the snow storms that hit Arklay county mid-October a few years back, was traded for a story about how the highest temperature they'd suffered through was a whopping 131 degrees in the dead of summer.

But now, there was no Jamie.

There was only the thing left in their place, an awful amalgamation of... oh god, you can't even pick it apart. So many things-- eyes of a goat, five legs; two sprouting from their back like a dinosaurs spine, and one burst out of their shoulder.

Their face was near-unrecognizable, their voice no better off. You could hardly understand the words they were saying-- and they were words, you knew that much-- as they curled their hand, as crushed and mangled and deformed as it was, around your ankle.

You stood there, frozen with terror-- unknowing of what-- no, who, this was; until you caught sight of a chunk of long hair, once dyed a vibrant red atop light blonde hair-- all that was left was a faded red, their roots having grown in a good 2 or 3 inches, coming from what you assumed to the top of the thing's skull.

"Jamie?" You'd muttered, voice small and broken. You no longer tried to fight the hold on your leg, simply stared down in abject horror. You didn't notice the alarm begin to ring, nor the flashing red of the emergency lights-- the call of a code over the intercom, summoning all available personal to deal with a "Code 96".

It-- They, nodded; or it seemed like it, a jerk of what must've been their head. What came from the thing-- no, Jamie's mouth next, made your heart go from nearly beating out of your chest to terribly, deathly still, as you realize what they'd been trying to say the entire time.

"Kill... me..." they'd rasped, all semblance of their fiery but intelligent personality gone, replaced with a simple need to be put out of their misery.

You had no means to do so, but as you heard boots rushing down the echoing hallways-- making their way to the adolescent patient's barracks where they kept you all, you knew that they did.

You sunk to your knees, and you held your friend until the guards came in, one tasked with evacuating the other subjects; not wanting any to accidentally get hurt, because then that'd just be a waste of resources-- pulled you from your friend, who let out a horrifying sort of shriek.

Your hand outstretched, as they fumbled to reach out; unable to grab yours in time, you were pulled form the room just as rounds and rounds of gunshots sounded behind you. The door had barely been shut before it started, dents made in the dense metal scared you deeply-- but the bullets never did make it through the material.

Or because the experiments got to them first. The things they inject you all with, the tests and strange sets of tasks that hardly coincide with each other-- the things that somehow make nearly everyone turn into some sort of monster,

Some kept their mind, like Jamie had, and some didn’t.

You’d had an awful feeling that your time would come soon, when all the weird injections and ‘medicines’ and ‘treatments’ finally got to you.

In some ways, you’d accepted that. The fact that you’d probably never make it out, that you’d just be another lost subject. A waste of resources.

Not a living, breathing child that they stole away from a survivor’s shelter after an outbreak hit your city and you fled— and were able to do so, because you were all alone.

You had hopes and dreams— ones that would be splattered across the frigid tile floor any second now, along with your blood and brain matter.

Sometimes the guards were kind, they gave one shot right at the crown of your head— killing you instantly.

Sometimes they wanted to have a little ‘fun’ as they called it. Nobody but the guards found it fun, how they’d toy with the kids as they killed them— the scientists and ‘doctors’ found it wasteful of their time, a disgrace that they spent more time than necessary on terminating a subject.

The other kids, yourself included, found it horrifying. In the dark of night, when you all knew the cameras weren’t as heavily watched as before— the guards weren’t standing where they were supposed to in the patient barracks, you’d spread stories about how the staff were really the monsters.

You’d say that one has a second face hidden beneath her giant, fluffy blonde hair. The others kids said that one of the guards, a particularly cruel one which none of you knew the name of, secretly had a third eye— that’s why he never took off the guard gear, which most every other one did at some point, for one reason or another.

And as you lay here, feeling your nose shift as the pressure of the boot on your head increased, your face pressing harder and harder into the tile— you come to the dreadful realization that they’re going to have their ‘fun’ with you.

You hope they get in trouble with their superiors— really, you do. Because with the red emergency lights going, causing a terrible headache to form right behind your eyes— and the alarm blared, a pre-recorded voice calling over the intercom;

They shouldn’t be here, taking their sweet time with a patient that’d broken off from the rest. Honestly, you thought you could get away with it, in the chaos of them evacuating all patients; or, all patients worth saving.

Noticeably, the barracks that held the younger kids, all below 6, were not evacuated. If anything, they weren’t making any move to free the poor things— the door still locked, probably.

“You know,” The guard began to say, and you recognized that voice. Oh, oh God did you recognize it.

You thought he was nicest of the bunch— he always did his best to help you. In quiet, dark corners where the cameras wouldn’t reach, he’d give you a hug to hide the way he handed you some extra food.

Sometimes you’d smuggle it back to the barracks, to distribute among the most malnourished of you all. Sometimes he’d have you eat it right then and there, to make sure you got extra nutrients.

“So you can grow big and strong,” He’d say. That implied that’d you’d make it further than a year in this hellhole.

He’d even told you his name-- his first one, not his last one; the one he was supposed to only be known as, something he really wasn’t meant to do— he called you by your name as well, your real one, not the serial code you were assigned when you got here.

“Na-than—“ You stumbled out, letting out a cry of pain as he cruelly, oh-so-cruelly, put all of his weight on the foot currently crushing your skull.

He took it off within a few seconds, not wanting you to die so quickly. It’d be a mercy, considering what the other guards tend to do with the subjects they have their sick ‘fun’ with.

“Oh shut the hell up, you fucking brat.” He sounded so cruel. This— this couldn’t be Nathan, could it? No… they’re tricking you. He had to have been replaced, this was nothing like him—!

In a split second, you felt all encompassing relief; as he lifted his foot from the back of your head— but that relief was short-lived, as he crouched down beside you and wound his fingers through your hair,

He yanked your head up, and you made a valiant, but ultimately useless, attempt to stifle the yelp from the action.

When you did let that sound out— though, much smaller than it would’ve been had you not tried, he jostled your head around.

“I really thought you’d be the one to make it. The scientists worked really hard on your virus strain, you know that?” He said that as if it was your fault— your fault for what? You couldn’t really place your finger on.

Maybe… he’s blaming you because you’d given the scientists hope that they’d succeeded? If you had succeeded, would they have stopped the operations—

Or doubled the effort? You’re leaning more towards the latter.

“s’not my fault…” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut. You swear that they had to have replaced all the lights with brighter, more agitating ones. It hurt to be anywhere when the lights were fully on— the blaring emergency light, bright red and spinning constantly— added another layer of it.

“Open your fucking eyes when i’m talking to you!” He yelled— oh, you’d never heard Nathan yell like that. This has to be an imposter; it had to be that the higher-ups found out how kind he was being and terminated him, one way or another.

This couldn’t be him.

Against your own wishes, but along with your better judgement— you peeled open your eyes, lips wobbling as you were forced to come face to face with both the lights, and—

The imposter had taken off his helmet, letting you have a full view of his face.

It was Nathan. No doubt about it.

“I’d say I actually liked you,” He snarled, leaning closer— your back creaking and bending as he pulled your upper half up, but your lower one stayed relatively flat on the floor. “But that’d be a lie.” There was a cruel smirk playing on the corner of his lips, nothing like the kind ones he’d always give you,

You wrenched out a sob, at which he jostled you a little more to get you to “Shut up!”

By that point, you were in absolutely no position not to follow his wishes, your life quite literally placed in the palm of his hands.

He leaned closer again, and you couldn’t help but let the tears rush down your face at the sting of hurt from his words— which only worsened as he continued on.

“The bonuses that my higher-ups gave me to act all buddy-buddy with you were pretty nice, though. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Oh.

That… makes sense— why you two were never caught. Why he could get away with it, with stealing the food, with showing you his face, telling you his name, hugging you, comforting you—

It was all a ploy,

And for what? Maybe they thought that if the subjects had something to fight for, that they’d be more determined to make it out as a success?

That wasn’t true and you knew it— Jamie had things to fight for, but they still ended up with their mutated body looking more like swiss cheese by the end of it all.

Nathan-- no, the guard, as you refuse to associate this... monster with the man who had been so kind to you, even if, realistically, you knew they were one in the same.

That it was all just an act.

That doesn't mean you have to admit it to yourself, even if you accepted the fact in some capacity.

But... regardless, the guard, clicked his tongue, looking down upon you in a way that made you want to curl up and sob. "They thought you'd make it, you know? You were reacting so well to all the tests. The virus took hold..." You couldn't stop the confused little noise, clawing its way from the back of your throat.

Surprisingly, the guard didn't reprimand or hurt you for it. His smirk only grew to a sick, sick grin. Presumably because of the obvious show of confusion on your part,

"Oh? Did you not know? They were testing a new strain, I mean-- I'm surprised it took to you of all people!" The laugh that followed was mocking and devoid of any light. Any joy that wasn't founded in the sadistic nature of this guard. "It was modified from a strain made by a couple of traitors-- It was meant for the strongest. They just gave it to you to see where that threshold for 'strong' was!"

...Ah.

A virus? That's what this all was? You didn't know what they were putting into you all, none of the other patients had a clue about what was happening besides what was obvious. You really didn't know anything about it--

But that's it? They were putting viruses into all of you? That'd definitely explain why some ended up the way they did; some mindless, some wanting nothing but violence. The ones who didn't what such things always looked as if they did, like Jamie had.

You don't feel sick though, not how Jamie had been describing how they felt as they approached their death day, completely oblivious to what was happening-- a little more lethargic than usual, yes-- but not sick. You don't feel like your bones are about to snap, about to shift and move and rearrange themselves to turn you into a monster. You're sure you would've... felt it,

Before you could make another sound-- before the guard could continue his spiel, a new round of heavy gunfire broke out nearby-- a few turns down the long corridor, you think.

Then, screams-- so many, and.. and bones cracking, flesh ripping; it didn't sound like anyone was getting shot.

It sounded like their heads were being twisted and ripped from their neck. You witnessed that once, with a particularly violent, now-terminated, subject. That's how you recognized the awful sound as the flesh of the neck tried to follow the way their head was being turned, only to be ripped-- sinew snapping as their bodies were pushed pass the limits of human capabilties.

The alarms-- no one knew what it was about, the code they were putting through the intercoms wasn't one you recognized. It wasn't one any of you recognized-- the guards seemed... panicked, for once. Not for you all, not at all; but because they had to evacuate everyone before they could save themselves.

Something told you that this wasn't a regular sort of rampage, put on by a grotesque mimicry of one of your fellow captives.

One second, the guards fingers were twisted in your hair-- yanking you, making your neck strain painfully as he forced you to look him in the face,

And the next, your hair was released and your head lolled forward; smacking your forehead right against the tile, not enough time to brace yourself at all. You heard the guard yell out a string of curses, before he stumbled-- and you mean stumbled, up; all scary calm and malice gone.

Replaced by a primal fear and terror that you know all too well. It was a little funny, seeing the primary force behind that sort of emotion experiencing it firsthand for once.

You don't see a point in picking yourself up at first, expecting you end to be swift-- for whatever was causing the apparent massacre to come charging at you, uncaring as it twisted your neck violently; just as you're sure it'd done to all the guards a few turns ahead.

But it... a few moments pass by, and nothing of the sort happens. You don't hear anything coming for you-- no horrifying creature shambling toward you on all fours, or a mass of disgusting, pulsing and gory flesh sliding across the tile to attack you.

All you hear are calm, methodical steps coming your way. A scientist, maybe-- all the guards seemed to be in a state of panic, if that one had left you in such a rush; if they leave you alone, if they don't continue their 'fun', or pull you along to continue at another time,

Then you know something is terribly, awfully wrong.

You listened carefully to the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes against the tile floor, coming closer and closer. The scientists weren't as outwardly-cruel as the guards, didn't rough you and the others kid up like they did...

But that's not to say that they cared for you, for any of you. If what the guard said was true, that you had gotten the furthest with their experiments-- then maybe the scientist would pick you up and drag you back.

Or kill you, and study your corpse to see what made your body welcome whatever virus they'd forced onto you.

At that, you made an effort to rise from your spot on the ground. Your elbows gave out the first few times you tried, adrenaline still running through your system-- but you were shaken up, and it was always harder to get up from the floor than it was from a chair or bed.

You were so tired, frail and weak-- but still better off than most. You were one of the few that actually had a chance, and you couldn't just give that up. Even if there was nothing to fight for really, you still had to get out. You don't know why-- maybe it's just in the human nature to want to continue on despite it all.

To survive anything, no real reason behind it. Simply a primal part of you, left over from centuries past; one that not even the most disciplined could stamp down, you think.

When you did get purchase, able to push yourself up to sit on your folded legs-- biting the inside of your cheek to smother the strange sort of chirp that desperately wished to escape you.

That'd been happening recently-- producing strange noises like that of a bird, especially when in distress. You'd been able to cover them up with a cough, or stifle them either mostly or completely, but the more scared you were; the harder it became to hide them.

You managed, though-- the fear of being noticed by whoever those eerily calm, unbothered steps that was a stark contrast to the bloodbath they were certainly just waltzing right through.

One sitting, you did your best to rise from the position-- unable to get to enough leverage to rise just as you were without collapsing to the ground, you got one leg out from under yourself-- though not without great difficulty.

Just as you were about to heft yourself up into a kneeling position, sure that you'd be able to stand from there-- you heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop; you hadn't noticed how close they were until they went silent.

Slowly, you raised your head. The dread and barely contained panic keeping you from focusing on the throbbing, world-ending headache that kicked up a notch as you looked straight on at the lights--

In front of you, down near the hallway; but not nearly far enough for your own liking, was a man you'd never seen before. Dressed in all black, he looked more like an FBI or undercover agent you'd see in a movie than anything.

Was he here to save you? You dazedly thought, but as you looked into the mans face-- his eyes hidden by simple black sunglasses, something told you that you had to run.

This man wasn't like the others-- his presence felt suffocating, like his existence alone could choke the life out from you.

Despite the headache, the aches and pain-- and the way that, deep down, you knew that you could never outrun this man... or whatever he was; that even if you were perfectly healthy, in the best shape possible, you never stood a chance, you still tried to run.

You stood abruptly, the pressure in your head becoming almost unbearable as black clouded your vision-- as disoriented and dizzy as you were, you're surprised you didn't fall right to the floor like a discarded ragdoll upon standing.

When your vision finally cleared, you met the mans gaze, and really got a look at him. The light casted behind him made him look like he had a halo-- a halo of red, like a sun delivering sailors an ill omen, bounced off of his perfectly gelled blond hair. His face was sharp, and he looked like he was in better shape than some of the guards here.

Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be wearing tactical gear-- and when you looked a little longer, realized that the strange spots of... something, wasn't a bad dye job of the fabric.

It was blood, mostly centralized to his black leather gloves, coagulated but still beading up-- one big glob fell to the floor, as the man simply stood there. Watching, waiting-- like a cat would to a mouse, staring it down and waiting for it to turn its back.

Cat's were stealth predators, more focused catching their prey off-guard rather than over powering it with sheer brute force. You're sure the man could do that-- and the reality of it all came crashing down.

He must be the one who killed the guards, the one that caused the one tormenting you to run for the hills like his life depended on it,

because it did, and yours did too.

He said nothing, as he stood there. He tilted his head, his face unreadable-- the glasses weren't helping. Slowly, as steadily as you could manage, you took a few steps back.

And then a few more, not daring to turn around until the very last minute. When he took a step forward, you turned and bolted down the hall.

You don't know where the exit is-- or, really the elevator. Or stairs-- anything to get you out from this underground hell. You stumbled as you ran, twisting and turning through the corridors; your lungs burning, head pounding and body aching--

But you never stopped running, and you wouldn't until you were safe, or you simply keeled over right then and there. You wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop this fruitless fight until your very heart gave out--

Or you joined the number of casualties, head twisted off. You'd yet to see any bodies, any blood or gore-- or anyone else. Most of them were in the other side of the building, and you dashed toward the section with the labs and testing rooms.

There, you think you could find a weapon, or at the very least a weapon to brandish. A weapon that would do nothing, and you were well aware it would do nothing.

The man that had stood before you, the one that set off your fight-or-flight instincts like never before, couldn't have been human. He just couldn't have been. If he had been the ones to cause those terrible noises of sinew snapping and viscera splashing on the sterile, once white walls...

Then that was that, he wasn't human. You don't know what exactly he'd be, and you don't want to find out.

For one foolish, silly second-- you assumed you'd shook him off your proverbial tail. He hadn't chased after you, and even if you were malnourished and frail, you still could run fast in necessary. Could push yourself if it meant a chance for freedom, to see the sun again-- even if it'd be the last time.

it'd hurt, you think. The other patients would complain that the barracks lighting was becoming too dim, but to you-- it was always just bit too bright. What might've been bearable the day before, became uncomfortably bright the next. Not blinding like the corridor's lights were, though. And for that, you'd been thankful.

You weren't familiar with this facility-- you were aiming for the labs, but somehow wound up in going in a circle; now facing the other way, close to where you'd started.

Bodies-- all over the ground, mostly guards... a few scientists, their white coats weren't all stained-- some were a stark white against the viscera covering the hallway.

Ahead of you, the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes called your attention, and at the end of the hallway, stood the man.

It was as if he knew you'd wind up back here, like he knew how inexperienced you were in the layout of this place-- like he knew the layout himself. A smirk played at his lips, showcasing rather sharp canines. The kind that could easily tear flesh from bone with no issue.

Maybe... he was an angel of death, you surmised. It fit, it really did-- maybe that's why he made it through the hail of bullets the slain guards around you had sent his way. How he'd been able to kill them so quickly, without so much as a scratch on his person.

The need to run didn't fade, if anything it got worse-- maybe because you knew, wholly and entirely, that you can't run. Not really. If he wanted you dead, then it'd be so. He'd taken down so many trained guards, a measly, terrified child wouldn't be a problem at all.

All you can think of that could stop him, was morals. You don't think he has those-- with the sight surrounding you.

This time, when he stepped forward, you didn't make any move to take a step back. It was useless. this was all so useless. Why you? Why did it have to be you? The shelter hadn't been ideal, but it was better than this.

You sunk to the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down-- trying to look away from the still-going emergency lights, the too-bright fluorescents that hung above were still on. The combination of the two made it feel like someone was tenderizing your brain with a sledgehammer constantly.

The clicks of his shoes aren't as sharp sometimes, when he steps in the puddles of blood-- they get closer, and closer... until he stands before you, only his shoes and part of his legs were visible to you.

You kept your head down, not wishing to look at your end. You want to die under the illusion that you ever had any choice in your life. That you chose your own end, and it was not brought upon you by this... angel of death.

And as you sat there, expecting the pain-- or simply a pinch before your entire world went black; shivering from both fear and the cold of the hallway, bile rising in your throat and your headache refusing to back down even a smidge; you imagine a world were you got to live a little longer.

Because, in your mind, you died the moment you entered this facility; it was a death sentence, and you should've been able to come to terms with that. It was stupid, you felt stupid for thinking you were any different to countless other kids that'd died in these halls-- some going down with a fight, others begging for their end;

"Look at me." A deep, almost... British, but not quite-- voice spoke, clear and concise. The man sounded... oddly human. You'd expected maybe a reverb of sorts, or the voice to crawl into the crevices of your brain and dig their claws in...

He was still scary, his voice sending a flash of terror through your body-- but in a way no different than the scientists were. It was a very human type of fear that his voice incited, the fear of somebody in a position of power above you.

Oh, how badly you wished to stay staring at the ground-- it was the lights, that was the problem. The man scared you, but you knew you should obey him. Maybe he'd give you a chance then.

Oddly enough, he seemed quite... patient, all things considered. he stood there for maybe a minute or so, before repeating himself. In the same tone, the same exact cadence and words.

"Look at me." He said, and something inexplicable-- something that felt rooted in your very soul, tugged at your mind. Telling you that he wouldn't be so kind if you made him ask again.

And you do, trying to keep your eyes open despite the pain that followed. Nausea rolled through you, both from the smell of blood and flesh-- it was sharp, much more noticeable then you think it should be; as if it's being held right in front of your nose-- and from how the headache worsened.

The smirk he had when he'd first spotted you had dropped, his face now a cold mask of... something. He really did look like an angel-- but the sorts found in older religious texts. neither good nor bad, simply carrying out God's will, who in of Themselves, was a contradiction.

The man reached out, and you couldn't help but jerk your head back-- he said nothing of it. In fact, you could've sworn the corners of his lips were giving way to a little smile, not just a smirk-- but it was gone before you could really register it;

But, he continued to reach out, and you stayed stock still, not wanting to test his patience again. You were already on thin ice, probably. For running from him, for making him repeat himself-- maybe he'd give you mercy, though? Because you were so young?

You weren't exactly a child, but you weren't an adult. Maybe... maybe he'd leave you be. He didn't seem to be hurting you, and when he curled his hand around your chin to push your head up just a bit more-- he was... gentle with it. In a way you hadn't experienced in so, so long from any adult.

Even Nathan hadn't been entirely soft with his movements, too used to being rough with it all; not knowing his strength, or the fragility of a subject who'd been here as long as you had.

You're surprised you were still able to run as much as you did.

The man hummed, turning your head just a tad to the left-- then gently guiding it to turn the other way. Like he was a museum curator appraising a priceless artifact.

When he turned your head to face him straight-on, you winced; the headache reaching an all time high, making you feel as if you were going to pass out form the pain at any given moment.

"Does the light bother you?" He asked, and you tried to nod-- but his grip, as gentle as it was, was all too firm. Not enough slack to complete the gesture. "Use your words." He said next, no irritation obvious in his tone.

But still, it set you on edge. How calm he was. People weren't calm like that-- but maybe angels were. That's what he had to be. He couldn't be human... he just couldn't be.

But... why would he ask that? It's not like the man cared for your well-being, right? it doesn't seem so, the question asked with an almost clinical sort of edge. Like the scientists had when they asked if there were any major concerns with your health, if you'd felt any negative side effects.

Not out of care for your person, but care for what you represented; a subject, something to test on to try and further whatever agenda or project they're assigned to.

"...Yes sir." You croaked out, shaking-- tacking on the honorific should help, yeah? The scientists always made you refer to them as such-- Sir or Ma'am, not accepting anything else. Not accepting no personal address either; that's how you get locked up in solitary for a few hours, to 'learn your lesson about disrespect'.

You were better at it than most, only being placed in solitary twice for the reason of 'disrespecting the scientists' with the lack of it.

The chuckle that followed terrified you, making your entire body lock up-- muscles pulled taut, ready to snap. Spine straight, much like a rabbit ready to bolt;

"Good to know you have manners. That'll make things easier." Your anxiety only worsened-- make what easier? What was he going to do, and how hell was your manners going the help that process?

Finally, he released your chin-- and not a moment too soon. You slumped, not from relief, but from the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing you after everything. Head lolling forward to try and avoid the bright light, you don't know how you're still even vaguely upright-- hell, how you're even still awake. You probably burned off more calories than you've collectively taken in since arriving here.

The world was spinning around you, and that notified you that you consciousness was probably something very, very short-lived. You're sure that, if you do pass out before he does whatever he does; you won't wake up again.

He says something, but the world if muffled around you-- blood rushing in your ears, making it sound like everything was underwater. You came to when he snapped his fingers in your face, it was a warning just as much as it was call for your attention.

You looked up-- or made the move to, only for him to place his hand atop your head, and gently direct you to keep your gaze down. "You'll damage your eyesight. Close them, if that helps any."

He framed it like he was offering it, offering advice-- you shut your eyes, seeing it as what it was. You had no choice in it. Whatever use he wanted you for, he didn't want your vision to be damaged for it.

You don't think the lights would damage your sight-- more just give a pounding migraine, but you do as he says regardless; he could very well just crush your skull in his hand, right then and there-- if he took down so many guards as you think he had.

For once, some higher being smiled upon you; and he moved his hand from your head, and while he was still as close as before, it was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders, not to have him making any direct contact anymore.

"I won't repeat myself again," He started off with, and you tried to show that you were listening-- he stayed quiet afterward, and you realized with a jolt, what he wanted. As soon as you realized, you aid-- almost robotically, "I understand, sir."

A few seconds passed, a heavy weight forming in your heart-- was that not what he wanted? You were tempted to open your eyes to try and see if you could get a read on his face, figure out what he was thinking; if he was about to kill you for some perceived slight.

...But would an angel do that? Even one who killed all these people? If you were still alive, then maybe he was ordered not to kill you. Or, more realistically, not specifically ordered to kill you.

Even if he wasn't an angel of death, if he was just some terrifying super-human or something of the like, he has to work under someone; right? He also said he's got a use for you.

You just hope that you picked up on the implications that he needed you alive for that use.

"Good." The man-- Angel?-- replied, as you hear fabric shifting-- the man moving, whether that be shifting on his feet or reaching into a pocket, you have no idea. "What's your serial code?"

"...I don't know it, sir." You shook-- you really didn't. Well, you didn't remember it off the top of your head, so maybe, if you explained yourself, he'd be more kind... "But if I hear it, then I'll know it's mine."

That can't be of much help. You might've just doomed yourself even worse, tacking on something like that- did he think you were wasting his time? Were you why he'd come here in the first place? That can't be it, you were never that important--

"Would you happen to be Subject 082202?" He asked-- and you recognized the number. Was he really after you? That's... that could go either one way or the either. Hope bloomed in your chest, before smothered by absolute despair.

What did he want with you?

You tried to respond, you really did-- but your voice failed you, wobbling and tried not to cry. You nodded, hoping he'd give you some leniency with it.

Surprisingly, he let it go. Didn't even comment on it-- when he spoke next, he sounded so... not happy, but--

Victorious, you think it'd be. Smug would be your next choice, the emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. It was barely there, but without anything else to witness or analyze-- you were stuck with trying to dissect his tone.

"Good, that's good." You heard him shift again-- the sound his shoes made against the tile suggested that he'd crouched down, and and his heavy leather coat shifted, but in what way you couldn't be sure--

More noises, ones that were meant to be quiet-- you weren't supposed to be able to pick on them, but you could. Maybe it was the fear of it all.

Then, his hand was back on your chin. Reflexively, you flinched; but he didn't reprimand you, if anything, his tone suggested that he... cared,

Maybe not for you-- probably for whatever you could do for him, but it was care regardless, and he told you "Stay still."

You did, and felt something place onto your face-- it felt like metal, warmed by a human's natural heat; it felt like a pair of glasses, the arms tucked above your ears, the metal bridge of it resting against your nose--

"Open your eyes, tell me if it's any better." The man said with a firmness that reminded you of the scientists-- or the guards. A strange mix between the two; maybe more like a cop, if you think about it hard enough. A sense of authority, firm but not demanding.

You do so-- the headache is still there, it'd gotten better when your eyes were closed. You find that, when you open your eyes, the world is a little dimmer; the headache doesn't spike as you'd expected due to it.

As you look up at the man, you realize that he doesn't have sunglasses on now-- giving you full view of his...

Yeah. The confirms it; he is absolutely not human. His eyes looked like a snakes, maybe more like a dragons; red with yellow around his slitted pupils-- instead of scaring you as it absolutely should,

It.. comforted you. Against your will, mind you-- a little bit of tension easing out of your form at the sight of them. You don't know why. It should terrify you, it should make you want to run for the hills, like he had when he first showed up--

With his eyes no longer obscured, and your headache a little dimmer, you think that you'd have a better chance at reading the emotions on his face--

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the present-- to his question he'd had with his earlier command. You try not to test your luck, now able to give out a short, soft "Yes sir."

His hand released your chin again, and with all the energy left in you-- you tried your best not to have your head fall forward from exhaustion, from the loss of the support of his hand. he huffed, shifting a bit-- he was crouching, but no longer leaning in close, leaving you with a little bit of a personal bubble.

A sort of privilege you haven't been afforded in a long, long while. Nobody crowding in your space-- nobody poking and prodding. Just letting you exist. Simply letting you sit there, without anyone breathing down your neck-- unrestrained, able to leave (if you weren't so banged up-- and honest-to-god terrified of the man, but that's neither here nor there) if desired.

You notice now, that there is a suitcase set down by his side-- looking rather innocent. A simple brown leather one, no obvious tells of what could be inside. It looked like one of the head scientists own bag, one you always saw him carrying around. Not trusting to leave it in one place without him present, you'd guessed.

"You're the subject for the Ammit Strain, aren't you?" He asked-- he seemed to already be sure of himself, and it left you confused as to why he's asking you. Because you don't have a solid answer for him-- and that shouldn't have been expected of you to have one.

"Uhm... I-I'm not sure. I don't... know what that is." You half expect his calm, strangely patient, demeanor to change in the blink of an eye-- for his hand to shoot out and grab your neck, and twist until your world went dark. It was irrational (probably), because he said he needs you for something. Even if you don't know what it is, you're pretty sure he needs you alive for it--

it's still up in the air, though. So you don't rely on that assumption for comfort too much.

Instead of that, instead of any violent outburst or sudden shift in his approach-- he seemed to... smile a little at your response. it was small, barely noticeable unless you'd been staring at him for god knows how long--

and, oh boy, have you been staring at him. analyzing him, trying to make sense of it all. as you do, when you're stuck in a strange and scary situation such as this.

"That's alright." He leaned forward, hang outstretched-- it landed on your shoulder, in a strange... friendly sort of gesture. Like a teacher would do as they praise you for an A+ on an assignment. "I know you are."

Then why did you ask? a bold part of you made you want to say-- one you thought had been stomped down a long time ago. During your second stay in solitary, where they kept you in for 6 hours rather than the measly 45 minutes you'd been in there the first go-around.

You kept quiet, hoping that he'd give a bit of an explanation as to-- anything. But you know he probably won't, not without prompting; even then, he might be more inclined to telling you to shut up or dancing around the question then give a truthful answer-- or one at all, for that matter.

He didn't do anything of the sort, the conversation going dead as he stood-- He grabbed the briefcase from beside him, but didn't make any move to turn around.

As he looked down at you, you realized he probably wanted you to stand as well. Torn between telling him that you aren't sure you could do so, and staying quiet as to try and minimize any possible anger-- you simply sat there, unmoving. Terrified, feeling like you'd found yourself right in a damned-if-i-do, damned-if-i-don't sort of situation.

A few moments later, he seemed to realize what your silence, what your immobility signified. He walked around you, standing behind you-- and gave no warning as he leaned down and put his hands under your armpits-- pulling you that way, before maneuvering you in such a way where he could pick you up into a princess carry from there.

Out of pure reflex, you threw your arms above his shoulders-- scared of tumbling over and out of his hold. By the time you realize what you'd done, you were too scared-stiff you amend it.

He... didn't seem to mind it much, though.

The hand held underneath your knee carried the briefcase, the handle digging into your thin grey sweatpants just a tad-- not too uncomfortable, but not ideal. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though.

As he began to walk, he suddenly asked "What's your name?"

Despite the fear, a slip in your judgement made you let out a little "huh?"

He huffed, his smile growing wider for just a second-- starting to resemble an actual one, before reverting back to the small, almost non-existent smirk he'd had before. "Your name. None of the documents said it, only referred to you as your serial number or the strain."

"Oh." This was so confusing-- he kept walking, letting you two lapse into silence; he wasn't rushing your answer, quite the opposite. He seemed to be letting you... take your time, even if it was such a simple and easy request.

Then, quietly, you said it. Almost as if you were afraid that the scientists or guards would hear, and punish you for it-- it was their way of isolating you from the outside world, telling you to forget who you were before you'd come here.

That you had no other name, nothing else to be called, besides Subject 082202.

The man heard you, though. He hummed in acknowledgement, and in a moment of reckless, almost moronic, bravery-- you ventured to ask,

"What's your name?"

Almost immediately, he answered with "Albert Wesker, but you'd do good not to use it." The name... was familiar, set off even more alarm bells than the man had before you learned of his name.

"...So just keep calling you sir?" What were you doing? Why were you doing this? How stupid were you, to push him like this--

"That's what was implied, isn't it?" He responded, the little edge painting his tone let you know that his patience must've been running thin. You shut up, smothering what you'd wanted to say--I was just making sure.

Something like that would definitely be categorized as disrespect-- to a normal person, and absolutely to the scientists-- which you'd defaulted to treating him as.

As he carried you, exhaustion having taken its toll on you-- your eyes slid shut, head falling forward and resting against his shoulder. Within a few seconds, you were out like a light.

#yandere albert wesker #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere resident evil #resident evil #platonic yandere x reader #yandere albert wesker x reader #platonic yandere albert wesker #teen!reader #gn!reader #requests open #yandere resident evil x reader #my writing

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porcelainseashore · 1 year ago

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Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

Title from Teenage Headache Dreams by Mura Masa and Ellie Rowsell / Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand.

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you.

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling?

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why.

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.”

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #high school au #college au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #fic: teenage headache dreams #porcelainscribbles

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sinning-23 · 16 days ago

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Publicity Pt.5

Warnings: smoking, y/n is a fucking throat goat, sexual content, swearing, awkward friends/crush to fuck buddies? Lovers? what the fuck even are we? 2D can't last lol

Heyyyy sooo i know im slackong but its because I'm planning for the next fee moths of my life lol I'm moving and going to japan about 2/3 months apart for I'm trying to save/raise money and get my shit together!

ANYWAY! I hope you all enjoy! You finally get some smut and I get to dip into my specialty...sin >:)

ENJOY!

Link to:

Publicity Introduction

Publicity Pt.1 Publicity Pt.2 Publicity Pt.3 Publicity Pt.4

PUBLICITY PT 6 UP NOW!!!!

Sleep was avoiding you both at this point, faint giggles filling the studio once you two had finished recording. It's like..the tension just melted away. Was there even any to begin with? Perhaps you'd imagined it all.

That was beside the point.

What you wanted more than anything in the whole world right now....

"D, you smoke?" You question, seemingly more of a test than anything.

Yeah, you knew cigarettes were his thing, but was Miss Mary Jane?

He tilts his head, a grin ever present on his face.

"You offerin'?" He asks, an excited glint in those pitch black eyes.

Annnd that's how you two ended up back in his room, something you didn't think would happen again considering the last time but hey!

Guess there were no real hard feelings after all. You're sitting cross-legged, eyes narrow in on the cute little pre-roll between your lips. Your lighter clicks once, twice, three times.

Nothing.

An irritated grunt pushes past your lips as 2D only chuckles at your struggle, sitting the same way in front of you, his back resting against the bedframe though.

"Need a ligh'?" He asks, accent thick as you tilt you head in debate.

*click*

sparks but no flame

*click* *click*

more sparks

*click* *click* *cli-*

"Shit, yes please." You sigh, a slight laugh leaving your lips.

The pre-roll is still sitting between your lips and he leans forward, guiding your chin up with his index finger. You hold back a choked whine, almost reflex to lean into his touch.

His eyes are just as focuses as yours were prior, the flame licking the end of it so gently as smoke begins to rise from the point of contact. You inhale, looking at him from under your lashes.

"Thanks."

Is all you can manage, the smoke you'd just inhaled pouring from your lips like an inscent fountain.

He takes his chance to pluck from your mouth, inhaling where you once had in an indirect kiss. And for some reason it makes your head spin...nah maybe it was just the weed. He inhales through his mouth, exhaling through his nose just before passing it back to you.

That was kinda hot-

The room is getting a bit hazy, with little air circulation his space would be hotboxed in no time. He reaches over, tugging a bin full of DVD cases from under his bed.

"Fancy a film?" He offers, your mind already hazy and overconfident as the reply sens shivers down the blue-ette's spine.

"Watch one or make one?" You tease, inhaling again, leaving back against your palms with a smirk.

"U-Uh- we, well I-" He stutters out, stopping when your outstretched, blunt-clad hand extended towards him.

"I'm teasing, whatcha got?" You chuckle, seeing his face flush red.

Part of you knows you weren't really joking. Just blame it on the weed.

In the bin, which is currently in 2D's grip were dozens of different movies, all of which seemed to be horror slasher thriller flicks. You peruse, grabbing a couple of cases, and reading the titles out loud.

"28 days later, classic. Uhhh-oh! Train to Busan. World War Z...Resident Evil. Nice, a bit of a zombie movie fan?" You grin, seeing the slight embarrassment on his face.

"W-Well yeah I like 'em" He explains, eyeing one cover specifically.

You reach for it, observing the picture with a slight not of approval.

"Evil Dead?"

He nods as you immediately move to insert the disc into the DVD player. What you had somewhat disregarded was the fact that you had to do sort of a bend and arch to even get to the DVD player and 2D just got a face-full of ass.

He clears his throat, trying his best to look away and failing. The TV static comes to life, masking it.

Damn it you had to have been doing that on purpose. He blames the weed for the sudden hard on.

And he was right, it was maybe a little bit on purpose.

You rest your weight on your elbows for a second, the still lit joint smoking away between your manicured fingertips. Did DVD player buttons have to be this damn small?

"D, got a remote?" You ask with a grin, passing it back to him seeing as you were a pinch preoccupied, your tongue slightly poking past your glossy lips.

He takes it, hoping this next hit would calm his nerves. It doesn't.

"Yeah, its ova' ‘ere on the nigh'stand" He mentally curses himself for the way his accent has noticeably thickened and lisp had poked through.

Being high did that to him though, didn't feel like he had to force himself to speak a specific way. Or maybe you did that? You’d never said anything about it. If anything, from what you’d let slip, you thought it was-

"Cute." You hum, sitting back against the pillows with him, not before flicking the lamp off at this nightstand.

It’s dark now, still hazy though as the movie plays and illuminates you both with dark blue light. He passes the dwindling joint back to you, your knees dealing closer to your chest as your inhale again, ghosting it this time with a grin at its success.

“You know how to ghost?” You question, passing it back as he smiles lazily.

“No’ really. I can french pretty damn good” He explains, demonstrating as the smoke glides through the gap in his smile.

“That’s so cool.” You giggle, taking it back from him.

You stretch, head about as foggy and relaxed as the room is. You opt to lay your stomach against the bed, rolling over briefly onto your back to gaze at 2D at the opposite end.

He's locked into the screen, his eyes reflecting the dark lighting of the screen as his lips part slightly, He's reciting each line, and it's adorable. It takes a moment but he eventually moves his gaze to your sprawled-out frame.

His eyes are low, seemingly taking you in, trailing from your eyes, to your lips, down the dip of your neck and collar bone, chest-

"Look like you're gonna eat me." You joke with a slight smirk.

Being high always did make you more bold. Easier to blame it on the substance if anything.

"Like a zombie?" He adds, leaning foreward, expression blank. His arms reach outward and your eyes widen. Before you could move away he's already gripping at your ankles, much like the undead would anyway.

You can't help the giggle that rises past your lips as he groans and squeezes your sides, a yelp leaving your lips in your fit of laughter.

With your thrashing, you manage to grip his shoulders, giggles dying down as you make direct eye contact. The room is still hazy, and so if your head, making your heartbeat sound so much louder in your ears

You swallow hard, your hands moving upwards, one now at the base of his neck while the other cups his cheek. He leans into it.

"Sooo, what is this?" You whisper, his knee parting your legs as his hands find a place on either side of your head.

"Dunno. 'know I've got feelin's for you." He explains, taking a breath to try and explain himself.

"I-I liked you when we was at the airpor'..a-an’ when you smacked your face on the dash. And when you yelled at Murdoc. I've never seen anyone besides Noodle and Russ do tha'."

You let out a faint laugh, fingers twirling his hair into little spirals.

"And when you was in my room.”

You’re back at square one now, staring deeply into one another’s eyes. Fearing you'd drown in the abyss of black you tune your head, nose scrunching as you try to control your heart. You can hear it pounding in your ears and each time it beats against your rib cage you fear it’ll burst.

His knee moves up, the action pulling a strained and faint whimper from your lips.

“Even when you thought’ I didn’t know you was snooping’ around in here.” He huffs with a faint gap-toothed smile.

You return it, your thigh now brushing his, your leg locking around his calf.

"Why'd you really leave tha' first time.?" he asks, almost unsure if he's even allowed to question your motives.

You swallow, embarrassment filling your chest. Sitting up on your elbows, he adjusts, moving back just a pinch so your foreheads from crashing into one another.

"I didn't want to mess anything up. I-I didn't want you to think I was...I don't know. I was scared that if we did...fuck that night things would be awkward and I'd ruin everything."

He's gazing down at you, but you wouldn't have seen it since your trying to avoid eye contact at the moment.

" I..I really like being around you Stu. I know its been awkward but I havent felt this inspired and intrigued in a long time." You explain, struggling to get the words out.

You sigh, looking guage to his reaction only to find two big, black, puppy god eyes staring right back at you.

"Darlin'"

God the way he says it. Yeah, Murdoc had called you that a couple times, mainly condescending and demeaning...but him? Its like it was meant for you and you alone, like he poured all his affection into one form of adoration.

It's in the way he guides you to sit up with him, your bodies fitting together like a puzzle. It's in his slightly cold hands cupping your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

The high had come down. This was nothing but pure intentions uninfluenced but any substance.

"Yes.." You whisper, your palms restign on his thighs.

"Please tell me you won' run away this time...you could never ruin this, I can promise you tha'." He reassures, one hand traveling to your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"Promise?" You whisper, mouth meeting halfway as he moves in unison with your body.

The film is long forgotten, whatever background noise it was meant to provide is far too low as your huffs and pants grow louder. It's not so much a competition as to who gets who undressed first but a testy dance.

His fingers glide under your shirt and brush against the skin of your stomach. Your own dip just behind his waistband. It's a familiar feeling, the tension stronger than your first semi-sexual encounter.

In his quest to rid you of your shirt, his mouth manages to work its way to your neck, hot, opened mouth kissed push against your pulse points, the softness suddenly overpowered with a hard suck.

'F-Fuck." You swear, tilting your head back to give him more access.

He hums against your exposed neck, successfully lifting your top up enough for it to rest, rolled up against your collarbone.

"Bite this." He instructs, lifting the bit of fabric to your lips. He's got you essentially holding your shirt between your teeth so we can-

Your nipples harden at his cold touch, the pads of his thumbs pressing deliciously against eh buds before he pops the front clasp, your boobs recoiling at the loss of support.

"Pretty lil' thing you are." He sighs, leaning forward to wrap his lips around one.

The warmth from his mouth shoots shivers down your spine, body arching into each of his touches. His left hand squeezes, tugs, and attends to your left side while his mouth works at the other, then he swaps once he's satisfied. For someone who acted like he had nooo idea how vulgar his lyrics were, he sure isn't as innocent as he'd led on.

He's skilled, pulling you onto his lap with ease, still latched to your chest before he kisses his way back up to your lips. He swallows up your whimpers, caressing the back of your head before rolling his hips up

"Y-You really know what youre doing." You pant, cut up immedetly by a moan when he slips his fingers past your bottoms, middle and ring finger just barely grazing your clit.

"Why woul'nt I?" He teases, voice somehow huskier as he watches you twitch at the slight movement of his fingers.

Your head falls forward when he pushes past your lips, hissing at the wetness

"Oh you need this bad, don' you?" He asks, the hand that was once at your waist coming up to your throat, guiding your jaw to make you look at him.

His face is flushed red in the faint lighting, eyes blown wide.

"How bad you need this love?" He asks, finally pushing two fingers into your heat, your head falling forward, only for him to guide you back to look at him.

"I know you can use your words. How bad?" He hums, his palm just barely smacking against your clit as his fingers curl in, upward, and out. Over and over and over,

"P-Please.' You don't even know what you're begging for at this point.

More friction? More fingers,? To cum? You needed to cum. But he's keeping you on the edge, literally wrapped around his fingers. You roll your hips, trying anything to get more and he knows it.

How he's keeping it together and not tearing his own band off just to fill you up is beyond him. All he knows is that the more noise you make, the more he wants to work your body to make new ones. High pitches, groans, whimpers, yelps, pleads of mercy as you get off on his fingers. He needs to hear it all.

"You close, aren't you?" He hums, seeing you nod, eyebrows knitted together, eyes squeezed as you focus on your orgasm.

Your hands grip his shoulders and he can tell you're close with the way you squeeze his fingers. And just before you can announce your impending orgasm, he pulls away from you. You can't help the desperate whine that leaves you lips and all he does is smirk.

"W-What? No no please." You whimper, eyes screwed shut.

Fine, two could play the edging game if that's what he wanted. You press your lips to his briefly, soon trailing down his throat much like how he had done with you, only this time, you don't bother to tug his shirt off. You're reaching for the prize beneath his waistband.

He doesn't protest, holding his breath almost. You can see the tent that had formed, once again..a fuckin monster under that fabric.

You suck in a breath, palming him for a moment as he lets out a low groan. Anticipation eats away at you as you finally pull it out. There's a moment of silence and your mouth waters at the thought of having it on your tongue. It's firm in your hand, warm, and twitching slightly at the contact.

It's got a bit of an upward curve, not too thick, but what he lacks in girth he definitely makes up for in length. He's tall as fuck so duh? Right? The tip is faintly tinted red, and two to three thick veins run from base to tip. He's leaking precum, giving it a slight glossy shine. Only more spills out when you give a test squeeze.

"E-Everthin' okay?" He asks warily, your silence making him panic.

How long had you been staring and analyzing this man's dick in silence?!

"Huh? O-Oh no everything....just, fuck it's pretty-" You huff, lowering yourself to come face to face with it.

You part your lips, sticking your tongue out to lick from base to tip, taking him into your mouth.

"Fuckkkk me." He whimpers, trying his best to make space for you between his legs.

Yeah, it had been a while but you were sure your throat could remember its previous training. You roll your tongue out your mouth, testing the way he hits the back of your throat, your sloppy and noisy slurping only further fueling your ministrations.

2D is melting under you, sweating, moaning, and whimpering with each bob of your head, his fingers fighting to not thread into your scalp and grip.

"Too much, won' last- wa- oh fuck wait love-" he beggs, your movements slowing, you glance up at him from under thick lashes, grinding sinisterly at his flushed and lust-filled expression.

It's agonizing how slowly you release him, sucking all the way up until you pull away with a sloppy 'pop'.

"Can I?” He glances down with his hands at your hips now. Your body heats almost instantly.

"Shag?" You chuckle, seeing him turn his head in embarrassment at the term.

"Well when you say i' like tha'!" He groans, hardened length poking your thigh.

"Sorry sorry. But seriously, please? I wanna feel you..." You admit, already working on lining him up between your slippery wet folds.

He sighs at the feeling, pulling your hips forward as his tip slides back and forth between you. It's too much and not enough all at once.

And soon, he pushes into you, your bodies impossibly close. All you can do is whine upon entrance, the stretch is so perfect. He freezes up, squeezing your hips tighter now, his fingers almost turning white. You relish in the sting.

"Y-You okay?" You cry, feeling him hit spots you didn't even know were possible.

Guess it pays to have a monster cock-

Something's up though, Stu growing awfully quiet.

"I-I can't move if I do I'll...I'll". He's struggling to explain himself, face beet red as he takes slow steady breaths.

Your eyes widen, involuntarily squeezing down at the confession. That quick? How long had it been for him? Gorilla grip much??

"W-Wait don't squeeze I-" He's really trying now, eyes screwed shut in focus.

"I really wanna do this with you y/n, but if you move I know I'll be done for sure." He explains, your lips pressing sweetly to his temple.

"It's fine, there'll be other times." You encourage, more silently praying that this wouldn't be the first and final time you get to be like this with him.

And his eyes light up, like an eager acceptance of the invitation. You roll your hips down, the feeling pulling noises from each of you as he practically whimpers against your shoulder.

"Stu, baby it's okay. I promise." You encourage, wanting nothing more than to feel him fill you up.

He huffs out a breathy sigh, sliding out halfway out before thrusting back in. He picks up his pace for about 2 seconds and in the 5th thrust, he comes undone, not before completely pulling out of you, and just in the nick of time.

"Fuck fuck fuck I-I'm sorry, you feel so good love," He whines, still riding out his orgasm, the warmth from his load coating your thighs.

He's still apologizing, spurts of hot white leaking from his tip as you run your fingers through his hair with a soft smile.

"You okay?" You ask, seeing him nod faintly, a bit exhausted. The movie is still playing, the credits are rolling now as you search the numbers on his nightstand alarm clock for an indication of how late it is.

He massages the spot he had gripped so viciously before, using a discarded t-shirt of his to wipe your thighs clean. As your positioned atop him, your eyes meet, and just before the night ends,

He kisses you like you're oxygen and he's desperate to breathe.

A?N: GUYSSS You finally got some smut outta mee! I hope you enjoyed this chapter because y/n cant catch a break and Pt.6 is gon get mESSYYYYY! i hope the 5 other 2d fans are enjoying this! See you next chapter :D

ps. sorry for any spelling errors!

#x reader #i don't care he's hot #reader is black #2d gorillaz x reader #2d gorillaz #2d x reader #murdoc gorillaz #gorillaz noodle #gorillaz russel #gorillaz #stuart pot #stuart pot x reader #gorillaz x reader

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geddy-leesbian · 2 months ago

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Chapters: 1/2

Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Bitores Mendez & Luis Serra, Lucia (Resident Evil) & Luis Serra

Characters: Luis Serra, Lucia (Resident Evil), Bitores Mendez

Additional Tags: girl dad Luis Serra, Pre-Canon, Umbrella Corporation (Resident Evil), Luis Serra-centric, Protective Luis Serra, Laboratories, Bio Organic Weapons | B.O.W.s (Resident Evil), Scientist Luis Serra, Snapshots, Father-Daughter Relationship, Medical Procedures, Human Experimentation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Series: Part 2 of I'm not giving in. I'm not missing out. I'm not giving up on IMPLAUSIBLE DREAMS.

Summary:

Luis didn't love that he was being taken off of the Nemesis Project and relocated from Lab 6 to a US Umbrella branch to try and pretend to be some random kid's new father.

But he knew that you don't tell Umbrella no. You do what the company says you should do– no, you do everything they tell you to do and more– or they destroy you. The lucky ones will be taken to Rockfort and executed immediately. The unlucky ones will be used as test subjects or tortured just for the sake of torture.

So Luis stands in a white hallway by a door, holding a backpack and looking down at a piece of paper, trying to muster up the strength to look a child in the eye and blatantly lie to her.

[prequel to A Miracle Too Good To Be True]

#i'll have a second post with edits later #resident evil gaiden #luis serra navarro #luis serra #resident evil lucia #my writing #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #💛𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓪💛

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nspired1fanfiction · 2 years ago

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Ichor and Pomegranate, Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Image used with permission by artist Practical Al Ichor and Pomegranate by Nspired1

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairing: Jill Valentine/Albert Wesker Features: Chris Redfield, Marvin Branagh, Brian Irons, the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team (Resident Evil), the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team (Resident Evil), Kevin Ryman, Wes Drucker, Elliot Edward, Claire Redfield, Rita Phillips, Original Characters, Tags: Partners in Crime, Crime Scenes, Murder Mystery, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human Albert Wesker, Good Albert Wesker, Well sort of, Fuck it, Flirting, Young Jill Valentine, Eventual Smut, Albert Wesker Being an Asshole, Crime Scene Details, Angst, Checking Out Your Superior, Power Dynamics, Police humor, Police Procedural, Bitter brand fluff, Eventual Romance, Pining, Slow Burn, Kevin Ryman is my wingman Chapter 11: Those Who Set a Table for Fortune

There was something different in his face, something off and without thinking about it, Jill tilted her head and studied him for a moment without answering.

The silence that lengthened between them was oddly peaceful while she thought.

He still had on his sunglasses, which was an oddity for him in his own home. Even the office only had one domed light within the space, and it cast shadows across both of their faces.

"What is it?" Wesker asked as he leaned forward slightly and brought his right hand to rest along his thigh. He still wore his black gloves and ever so gently, his four fingers rubbed against his thumb in a circular motion while he watched her.

"Captain, as impeccable as you are with reading silences, you do have some of your own tells," she answered next.

"Do I?" he mused before his thumb and forefinger paused. As if he already knew.

"Mhm," she continued, daring to reach her hand forward to grab his. "They used to train me to hunt men like you, you know."

The button to his right leather glove popped gently in her fingers while she lifted her eyes to where she thought his were behind the sunglasses.

With her fingers pulling the glove off slowly, she continued, "Men who yell, threaten, and make noise either go for distraction or display." Her smile was a closed envelope "Either suits me. If I could hear them, I could find them." The glove dropped to the floor.

"But you, captain?" The button for his left glove came undone. "I have to find you, and when I do, I simply watch." The skin of his palms was calloused as the pads of her fingers trailed after the material. "And what I see is sometimes the loudest of them all."

His fingers enclosed over hers before she could pull it back.

They sat facing one another in their chairs. Captain Wesker leaned forward further, and she didn't think she imagined the husky tone that came next.

"And what do you see?"

"You're in pain," she answered before her hand pulled from his and she slowly reached up for the sunglasses.

When he caught her wrist, she flinched from the speed but relaxed when she heard his exhale.

"Don't." He lowered her hand from his face. "Full marks for perception. You've found me at a disadvantage, but surely a headache isn't all you've figured out."

"No," she agreed with a pointed look that flashed his way. "But I'd rather see your eyes when I tell you that."

"I'm sure you would," he obliged in a drawl before he released her arm. "Let me see your reports."

#jill valentine #fanfiction #resident evil #albert wesker #greek mythology #pre resident evil 1 #weskertine #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #romance #mystery #crime drama

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mlcheely · 2 years ago

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It's Just A Game... PROLOGUE. ☆

DATE : ┃JANUARY 16TH, 1998. LOCATION : ┃ RACCOON CITY, MISSOURI. TIME : ┃8:39 PM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

No one expected such a storm to hit Arklay County. Earlier that day the weather channel predicted a light shower, but it was obvious that that was an understatement. Thunder roared loudly and lightning flashed across the dark sky. The streets were flooded and many citizens hurried to get inside to avoid the rain. Anyone who stepped outside would quickly become soaked, and the harsh rains mixed with strong winds made driving seemingly impossible. Luckily for Jill Valentine, she called shotgun before her close friend and colleague Chris Redfield had the chance. The two S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Service) members had just been dispatched from the police department in response to a possible body sighting on the outskirts of town. Something they were only doing to get off of work earlier since most calls from outside of town were false alarms.

Chris was famous for looking for ways to get off early. Honestly, if he had known the weather was going to be that horrendous he would’ve played hooky. Maybe he would’ve used the good ole “allergies" excuse; one of many he had up his sleeve. At least when he got home to his apartment he’d have a cold beer and some whiskey to look forward to.

But for Jill? She’d never been so eager to get home and sleep…even if she knew she wouldn’t get much of it. In fact, she hadn’t been able to sleep since the year started. It was all because of this strange dream she kept having.

The dream usually started with someone crying outside of Jill’s apartment door. When she opened it, there was a young woman standing in the hall. The woman was wearing a hospital gown, and she looked scratched and cut up. “Jill…” The woman said with a cracking voice, “…Will you help me?” Jill didn’t know who this woman was or how she knew her name, but Jill chose to spat out a “yes.” “Please let me in…” The woman’s voice cracked again and Jill instinctively opened the door wider to allow the woman entry, but the woman didn’t move. Not even an inch. She simply stared at Jill through her hair with a look of pure fear.

Although her dream was unnerving, the nightmare she had that very morning was nothing in comparison.

Jill’s nightmare started with an ear-splitting scream that was so loud she actually thought it had been real at that moment. It sounded like it came from her front door; just like the many times before. When Jill ran to her apartment door to help the woman, the door wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard Jill pulled or pushed the door wouldn’t open. On the other side of the door, the woman's screams became louder and louder. Jill’s eyes began to water as she helplessly yanked the door handle, and she started sobbing once the woman screamed out Jill’s name. “They’re gonna kill me, Jill! HURRY!!” The voice cried for dear life.

Jill stepped away from the door and looked around. She quickly grabbed a nearby weight and smashed the door knob, pulling the door open. As the door opened the screams stopped, and all became deathly silent. The hallway was pitch black and there was no sign of the distressed woman anywhere. Jill suddenly had woken up drenched in sweat and tears. Needless to say, the nightmare had gotten to her.

Chris glanced over to Jill who stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts and discomfort. He took notice of her uneasiness, and he cleared his throat. “You uhh…wanna talk about it?” Chris asked. Jill fell out of her train of thought, but she didn’t break eye contact from the window. “About what?” She inquired, poorly pretending that she had no idea what he meant or was talking about. Fortunately for Chris, Jill wasn’t exactly well-versed in hiding her body language. “Anything that might be on your mind.” He responded. Jill couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “Are you trying to play shrink?”

Chris snorted, “Geez, forget I asked.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Jill laughed. “No, it’s just…” She paused, suddenly feeling silly. Was she really going to say this? Even if it was Chris, telling someone a nightmare was bothering her was a little embarrassing.

Jill pursed her lips as she looked at Chris.

“It sounds stupid, but…it’s just this dream I keep having. I haven’t been able to sleep for a couple of weeks now. It’s about this woman who knocks on my apartment door and keeps asking me for help, but last night was different.” Jill breathed in and out, “Last night she just kept screaming and screaming. I tried to help her, but when I finally got the door opened the screaming had stopped and the woman was gone. I woke up after that. I don’t think a nightmare has made me cry much less sweat in a long time.”

Jill went quiet after that, and Chris furrowed his brows in thought. “Hm…sounds pretty intense. I can see why you seemed to be so bothered today.” He remarked. Chris was telling the truth. He had noticed her during their shift earlier that day. She was doing the same now as she did then — just staring blankly into space with a look of deep thought, concern, and…sadness.

Jill laughed, “It’s not really the dream itself that bothers me. I guess I feel like — I don’t know — that fate is trying to tell me something? I don’t know it’s dumb — ”

Chris cut her off. “It’s not dumb. Believe it or not, I’m a little superstitious myself. So if you feel that way, then I’m sure you’ll figure out what it is eventually. You’re good at that kind of thing.” He smiled, and Jill grinned in return.

“Thanks.” She said.

“No problem.” Chris chuckled.

Jill was glad she had somebody like Chris to confide in. Hopefully this call would be routine and she could repay him with a dream come true: a whole case of beer.

⋆

LOCATION : ┃ OUTSKIRTS OF RACCOON CITY, MISSOURI. TIME : ┃8:57 PM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

A dimly lit street lamp was the only source of light found for miles once Chris and Jill pulled up to the address they had been given. Chris put the car in park while Jill grabbed two flashlights from the glove compartment. She handed one to Chris with a smile. “I’ll go search to the left, you search the right.” Jill said. “10 - 4.” He answered. They exited the vehicle and were soaked in seconds, straining to see through the rain as they split up. As time passed by, Jill thought they might need to resume search once the rain let up, but her thought was cut off when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She shined her flashlight over to the area, and she saw a naked woman laying unconscious in the middle of some thorny brush. Thorns stabbed into the woman's skin while some of them had instead scraped and caused bloody scratches and cuts. Her long, wet hair covered her face and breasts, untouched by the thorns. Her body was straight and her arms were sprawled outwards, almost as if she had just held out her arms and fallen backwards.

However, it wouldn’t have been so horrifying if it wasn’t for the fact she was still alive…

Jill quickly noticed the rise and fall of the woman’s chest. She pressed her fingers to the woman’s neck to feel for a pulse and to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things. Jill breathed out a “thank God” and grabbed her radio from her waist band. “Chris — hurry! I found a woman here — she’s alive!”

“C — h..ris — . f - o.. —und… ——.. A — — ive…”

“Jill?!” He called, hitting his radio. “Ugh, stupid thing! Hang on Jill, I’m coming!” He said to himself, turning around and heading in the direction of his colleague.

Jill placed her radio back onto her waist band when she didn’t get a response, and she shined her light back onto the woman. Jill’s hand reached up to move the woman’s hair from her face, and she felt her stomach drop. ‘No, no — that’s not possible. It couldn’t be possible, but…’ She thought to herself, but she was interrupted once Chris approached.

As Chris ran up to the two women, he frowned. “Is she — ?!”

“No, she’s alive!” Jill called out, but Chris knew that wasn’t the only thing on Jill’s mind. “What’s wrong?! Do you recognize her?!” He questioned, but Jill didn’t respond right away. She just stared at the poor woman, and Chris put his hand on her shoulder. He looked at her with sincerity, and she swallowed hard. “It’s the woman from my dream!” Jill exclaimed, “I’d know that face anywhere!”

Chris stared at his friend for a few moments, contemplating on what to do next. He would never discredit Jill, but he also thought her lack of sleep might have been causing hallucinations. He looked over to the woman, and he patted his hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Help me get her out, yeah?!”

Jill didn’t respond for a few moments, instead a thought sparked in her mind. She must have finally snapped and lost her mind — but she had an idea. A really stupid idea.

Chris looked to Jill. He knew that look.

“What are you thinking?!”

“What do you mean?!”

“Come on Jill, don’t play coy with me!” He sighed, “Look, let’s get her out and we’ll talk about it in the car!”

As Jill looked to Chris and nodded, the two of them moved to either side of the woman and began to lift her body from the thorns and greenery. Some thorns dislodged themselves from her wounds while a few broke off from the bush, and Chris lifted the woman into his arms. He looked forward to Jill, “Let’s go heat up the car and call for a paramedic!” Chris set off in the direction of the vehicle, and Jill followed closely.

She felt unsure about all this. The two of them were supposed to call this in, fill out a report, and go home — but none of those things felt like the right thing to do. Why did they feel…wrong?

Once they approached the car, Jill opened the back door before lifting the trunk’s hood. She reached in and grabbed a thermal blanket and slammed the hood closed. Chris had placed the woman into the back seat, and Jill covered the woman after he stepped back. He closed the door and headed towards the driver’s side while Jill entered the passenger’s side. They both leaned back into their seats after Chris started the engine, igniting a heat wave of air to wash over all three of them. He reached towards the car’s radio. However, Jill stopped him.

Chris immediately looked to Jill in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Jill was quiet again. Would he help her? Would he report her to the department? She knew he must’ve thought she was just tired. She was tired, but this stranger’s face had been so embedded into her brain that she could never forget it. She didn’t know the woman’s name, but she was sure it was the same person from her dream. Even if Chris didn’t believe her, she had faith in him to have faith in her — why wouldn’t he help her?

The thing is, Jill wasn’t exactly sure what she needed help with. She had an inkling or two that had been lingering in the back of her mind since the discovery. 1. Help this woman get to the hospital. 2. Do not inform the department. She would worry about the rest later.

As for not informing the department — no one would believe her. How would she sound saying her dream predicted a murder? Or in this case an attempted one…if Jill even knew that. Who’s to say someone wouldn’t come for this woman? Jill had so many questions she felt only the unconscious woman in the back seat could answer, but then what? What if the woman didn’t even know what Jill was talking about and Jill had just been slowly losing her sanity? She swallowed hard and looked into the back seat. The woman was shaking from the cold but was seemingly fine. Jill lifted the blanket up to the woman’s neck in an attempt to cover her more. After a few seconds, Jill broke the silence.

“Do you remember earlier when you said I’ll ‘figure out what it is eventually’?”

Chris slowly raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“I think I figured it out,” She sighed, “but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Chris felt slightly anxious. What did Jill plan on doing exactly? And why was she saying he wouldn’t like it? Her just saying that made him not like it.

“What does it have to do with me? Am I becoming an accomplice or something?” Chris joked, and Jill’s face straightened. “I’m serious, Chris,” She said, staring intently at his face and he frowned. “What are you asking me to do?”

“I’m asking you to back me up…” She stated, and Chris quirked a brow. “Listen, all I’m asking you to do is radio in to the department and say it was a dead animal or something. Just something…” She fumbled with her hands, “and after that I am asking you to drive to the hospital and drop us off.”

“Us?”

Jill motioned towards the back seat, and Chris gave it some thought.

It felt weird for Jill to ask him something like that, so Chris was obviously skeptical.

“Can I at least get a reason why before I help you?”

Jill shot a look of surprise at Chris, “You’re gonna help me?” She felt elated.

“Yes, but why are you asking me to do this? What’s gotten into you?” Jill looked at Chris with sincerity as he asked this, unable to lie to her cherished friend. “I…” She started, “Have you ever been told the right thing to do, but once you’re in the moment it feels wrong?”

“I have before, yes. Why do you ask?”

“That’s how I’ve been feeling since I recognized her. Deep down I feel that if we report this we might be accidentally putting her in danger…I-I know it sounds so stupid but — ”

Chris cut Jill off.

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all.” He paused, “Look Jill, if it really means that much to you…I’ll cover you, but on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Keep me updated. Don’t ask me for help at this moment and then use the excuse you can handle it on your own. Okay?”

Jill formed a straight smile. “Okay.”

Chris then grabbed the radio from the dash, informing the department that they had only come across a dead animal and it was nothing to fret about. Jill grinned at Chris as he put the radio back onto its latch and began to pull the car away from the area. “I owe you one.” Jill stated.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chris waved his hand, “You can repay me with a drink next time we go to Black Jack’s.”

Once they turned back onto the main road, Jill turned around to the woman behind her and she pursed her lips. ‘I hope I really am doing the right thing.’ She thought to herself before resuming position in her seat.

Chris stared into the asphalt as he drove, wondering the same as they headed back into Raccoon City.

Meanwhile, a group of armored men approached the scene the S.T.A.R.S. had left behind. One of them noticed the bloody bushes and called for his captain who walked up and examined it himself. He turned around and called in to report. “There’s nothing here, but something left behind a bunch of blood. Nothing fatal.”

“Were there any witnesses?” The captain heard from the other line.

“A police car was seen leaving the scene. Do we need to pursue it?” There was a pause before the captain received an answer.

“No need. Clear the area and return to base.”

“Affirmative.” He confirmed, staring in the direction of Raccoon before turning and leaving the area.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #chris redfield #jill valentine #albert wesker #S.T.A.R.S.#umbrella corporation #pre-resident evil 1 #blood #isekai #pre resident evil 1

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itsaleiah · 4 months ago

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Romancing Mr. Half-Devil

Summary:

Perhaps Vergil Sparda is much more human than he thought. After all, how could he care so deeply for Alessa Vera, a mere human? How could he risk everything and search for power just to ensure her safety? Was it because of their history together? Was it because they were childhood companions? Was it because she is the last thing he has alive? Or was it because his heart yearned and.. loved... like a human?

ROMANCING MR. HALF-DEVIL’S PLAYLIST

BOOK 1 (PRE DMC3 - DMC 3)

SPARDA’S HISTORY

PROLOGUE

Chapter One: Before The Nightmare, Vergil

Chapter Two: Traces Of The Future, Alessa

Chapter Three: The Crimson Feast, Vergil

BOOK 2 ( DMC - DMC 2)

BOOK 3 (DMC 4)

added chapters soon, will be published on wattpad and ao3..

WRITER’S NOTE:

This game is very special to me. It was actually the game that jumpstarted my Capcom Career! I remember playing DMC5 since I didn’t know what to play. (I was too scared to beat Resident Evil 7 at that time so I told my dad that I’ll play another Capcom game and if I finish it, i’ll continue with RE7. And guess what, I finished it!) I still remember the joy that I felt when I first finished 5, it felt really fulfilling and I couldn’t help but love the characters. After that, the DMC trilogy went on sale and I told my Dad that I wanted this and luckily for me, he bought it! And then - I started writing stories about the characters and the storyline and how to further/enhance the lore and that’s when Alessa was created!

It wasn’t until 2024, that my love for this game (as well as for video games) came back. Summer Break things you can say. I started reading, playing and watching videos about DMC again and thought: “What if I finally wrote my old ideas about Devil May Cry, this time better and much more refined?”

So here you go - the story of Alessa Vera, definitive version. (And please forgive - since I’ve written this when I was on the precipes of getting better mentally or falling down the trail as well as slow updates as I’m busy with schoolworks.)

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theguywithaplan · 1 year ago

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List of Video Games Turning 10 Years Old in 2024

Alien: Isolation

Assassin's Creed: Rogue (the one where you play as an Assassin turned Templar.)

Assassin's Creed: Unity (the one set during the French Revolution.)

Atelier Escha & Logy: Alchemists of the Dusk Sky

Azure Striker Gunvolt

The Banner Saga

Bayonetta 2

The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth

BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea (the DLC where you go back to Rapture)

A Bird Story (a sort of spin-off of "To the Moon")

BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma

Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel! (is this a sequel to 1 or a prequel to 1? I forgor)

Bravely Default (in North America)

Broken Sword 5: The Serpent's Curse

Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare (the one with K*vin Sp*cey)

Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2 (to date, the last new Castlevania game to release)

Child of Light

The Crew (going offline at the end of March)

D4: Dark Dreams Don't Die (a wonderfully strange game from the guy that made Deadly Premonition)

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc (in North America)

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (in North America)

Dark Souls II

Deception IV: Blood Ties

Demon Gaze

Diablo III: Reaper of Souls

Disney Infinity 2.0

Divinity: Original Sin (from the team that would go on to make Baldur's Gate 3)

Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze

Dragon Age: Inquisition (the winner of GOTY at the very first TGAs)

Drakengard 3

Earth Defense Force 2025 (EDF! EDF! EDF!)

The Evil Within (from the creative director of Resident Evil)

Fable Anniversary

Fairy Fencer F

Far Cry 4

Freedom Planet

Guilty Gear Xrd Sign

Hyrule Warriors

Inazuma Eleven (in North America. And digital only.)

Infamous: Second Son (as well as its expansion, First Light)

Kirby: Triple Deluxe

The Last of Us Remastered (just one year after the original version came out...)

The Legend of Korra (the game from PlatinumGames that you can't buy anymore)

Lego Batman 3: Beyond Gotham

Lego The Hobbit

The Lego Movie Videogame

Lethal League (from the team that would go on to make Bomb Rush Cyberfunk)

Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII (the third and final chapter of the Final Fantasy XIII trilogy)

Lisa: The Painful (yes, really)

LittleBigPlanet 3

Lords of the Fallen (not to be confused with Lords of the Fallen, which came out in 2023)

Mario Golf: World Tour

Mario Kart 8 (the original version)

Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes (the prologue to Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, which came out 18 months later)

Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor

Might & Magic X: Legacy

Murdered: Soul Suspect (it's like Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, but not as good)

Natural Doctrine

Oddworld: New 'n' Tasty! (a from the ground up remake of the first Oddworld game from 1997)

Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures 2 (yes, it got a sequel. I don't know how or why.)

Persona 4 Arena Ultimax

Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth

Pokemon Omega Ruby & Pokemon Alpha Sapphire

Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy (the last time that Professor Layton himself was the protagonist. At least, until the New World of Steam comes out)

Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

Pushmo World

Risen 3: Titan Lords

Sacred 3

Samurai Warriors 4

Shadowrun: Dragonfall

Shantae and the Pirate's Curse (the 3rd one)

Sherlock Holmes: Crimes and Punishments

Shovel Knight (yes, really)

Skylanders: Trap Team (the 4th one)

Sniper Elite III

Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric

Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal

South Park: The Stick of Truth

Steins;Gate (in North America)

Strider (the one from Double Helix)

Sunset Overdrive

Super Smash Bros. for Wii U and Nintendo 3DS (or Smash 4 for short)

Tales of Xillia 2

Tales of Hearts R

The Talos Principle

Theatrhythm Final Fantasy: Curtain Call

Thief (the reboot)

This War of Mine

Toukiden: The Age of Demons

Transformers: Rise of the Dark Spark (this game merged the storyline of the War for/Fall of Cybertron games with the storyline of the Michael Bay movies. I’m not joking)

Transistor

Valiant Hearts: The Great War

The Vanishing of Ethan Carter

The Walking Dead: Season Two

Wasteland 2

Watch Dogs

The Witch and the Hundred Knight

The Wolf Among Us (sequel this year!)

Wolfenstein: The New Order

Yaiba: Ninja Gaiden Z

Yoshi's New Island

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issa-pheonyx · 1 year ago

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Select Your Story💀

Began in: August 22, 2023

Updated in: August 29, 2024

ANY FOLLOWERS READING THIS PAY ATTENTION TO THIS LINK, THANK YOU: Under 18? Do not intrude...

Please, read FAQ {Must Read]👹 for more info on what specific content and tropes I mainly do before sending asks/requests. Anyways, back to your bookmarks where you left off. Besitos~💋

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

Resident Evil

Headcanons:

Stupid Mutt [Yandere-sub!Leon X GN!Reader]🔪🌶️

Left Behind [Puppy!Abandoned!Leon X Pre-Owner!Reader]

Best Friends Forever [Yandere-bestie!Chris X GN!Reader]🔪

Cut Me Up [Yandere-sub!Krauser X GN!Reader]🔪🌶️

My Puppy Sugar Daddy [CEO-Leon X Fem!Reader]🌶️

Gentle Giant [Carlos X Reader]

Opposites Attract [RE2!Leon X Goth!Reader]🔪

Scenarios:

Roles Reversed [Umbrella!Leon X Agent!GN!Reader]

Super Soldier Down [Yandere!Piers Nivans X BSAA!GN!Reader]🔪

Bad Dog [Yandere-sub!Puppy!Leon X Fem!Reader]🔪🌶️

Break My Heart Again [Leon S. Kennedy X GN!Reader (ANGST)]

He Don't Bite [Yandere-sub!Puppy!Leon X Fem!Reader]🔪🌶️

Desperate To Please [Yandere-sub!Krauser X Fem!Agent!Reader!]🔪🌶️

Pick Me, Take Me [Yandere-sub!Plaga!Krauser&Leon X Fem!Agent!Reader]🔪🌶️

You're My Bitch Neow [CEO-sub!Leon X Fem!Reader]🌶️

Two Heads Are Better Than One [CEO-sub!Leon&Chris X Fem!Reader]🌶️

Imagines:

Rambles:

Re2 VS Re4 Leon [Soft and Stern Leon]

Devil May Cry

Headcanons:

Demon Dog [Yandere-sub!Dante X GN!Reader (DMC3)]🔪🌶️

In Denial, Not Scared [Yandere-sub!Vergil X GN!Reader (DMC5)]🔪🌶️

Scenarios:

Imagines:

Rambles:

Silent Hill

Headcanons:

Unforgivable Actions [Yandere!James X GN!Reader]🔪

Scenarios:

Imagines:

Rambles:

MW2 (COD)

Headcanons:

Scenarios:

Eat It Up [Yandere-sub!Konig X Fem!Soldier!Reader]🔪🌶️

Imagines:

Sit On It [Needy-sub!Konig X GN!Reader]🌶️

Rambles:

Spiderman ATSV

Headcanons:

Kitty Kat [Yandere-sub!Kitty!Miguel X Owner!Reader]🔪🌶️

Scenarios:

Stay Quiet For Once [Sub-Miguel X Fem!Reader]🌶️

Imagines:

Rambles:

Slashers

Headcanons:

The Neighbor Next Door [Yandere!Michael Myers X Childhood-neighbor!GN!Reader]🔪

Scenarios:

Imagines:

Rambles:

Mortal Kombat

Headcanons:

The Fun Uncle [Being Johnny's Niece]

Hollywood's Favorite [Uncle!Johnny Cage Intros]

Oh My Sweetheart [Smoke X Reader]

Scenarios:

Imagines:

Rambles:

Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Headcanons:

Bad Romance [Yandere!Johnny Sawyer X Fem!Reader]🔪🌶️

Scenarios:

Imagines:

Rambles:

Series

-Resident Evil

Yandere!Lord Dimitrescu&Sons X Fem!Reader🔪 [Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Part 4]

A fair warning as I do take a lot of time to write drafts. Plus, with updating here due to my scheduled as stated in my FAQ page. When seeing the 🔪 next to the story it is yandere related, but when it doesn't it is NON-yandere related. Same applies with spicy ones that has a 🌶️ and highly advised minors to NOT intervene with my work as you will be blocked. No exceptions. Come back anytime, stranger~👹

#masterlist #issapheonyxmasterlist #resident evil #devil may cry #silent hill #mdni #no minors allowed #cod mw2

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leonskittybunwriting · 4 months ago

Text

Warnings: Dead Dove! Step uncle leon! Non-con! Somnophilia!

Part of a series!

Part 3

A/N: I don't own resident evil characters, and I don't own resident evil!

Also on ao3

Leon shuffles into the bedroom, your bedroom, his beautiful niece.

You turned 26 not too long ago and Leon wanted you in ways that weren't so innocent.

Leon undresses and climbs into the bed, he pulls down the blanket that covered you.

You are wearing a short nightdress that has kitty designs. Leon gulps when your thick thighs come into view and he palms at his long hard cock.

He already had pre-cum dripping from him, he licks lips as he grabs your thighs and pulls them apart and he gasps when he sees you weren't wearing any underwear.

He rubs his cock, his veins showing due to the throbbing.

He pushes his cock into your fat pussy and starts thrusting in and out of you.

You let out a soft whimper as you open your eyes, your eyes widen in shock as you see your step uncle leon thrusting his cock in and out of you.

“Uncle leon?” You whimpered out to get shushed and your mouth covered.

“Shhh.” Leon whispers as he covers your mouth as he picks up the pace.

You let out whimpers and moans against his hand before putting your hands on his large shoulders.

You didn't know your uncle wanted to do this with you, you were confused but it felt good, you had sex before but it was always painful unless it was with your step father and your step brother.

Leon grunts in your ear and he whispers “such a good girl, so obedient.”

You whimper and move one of your hands into his hair and dig your fingers into his soft hair.

Leon removes his hand and slams his lips against yours as he cums inside of you deeply, letting out a groan of pleasure.

Leon pulls back a little and he whispers “I just couldn't hold back anymore.”

You whimper and whisper “uncle leon-”

Leon shushes you and he corrects in a whisper “Step uncle.”

You nod and whisper “I didn't know you felt like that about me.” Leon titles his head as he looks over her and he whispers “It's hard not too.”

You were now shared within the family that you hardly knew.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy dead dove #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut

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sweetcocopowder · 8 months ago

Text

Pitch Black Dahlias | PT. 1 | PT.2

Synopsis: The news had taken everyone by shock. The Minutemen had been the one to take down the Institute. It's evil being rid of the Commonwealth once and for all.

But that doesn't mean that Nate's work is over. There is a still a lot to. And that includes helping Danse with his current dilemma of finding out who he truly is. And the pre-war man thinks bringing Danse along on some Railroad jobs will help out.

Hopefully.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Paladin Danse x Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Slow Burn. Trauma. Eventual Smut.

The only times Danse has had the time to visit to Diamond City, it’s all been for Nate. He sees no need to come to this part of the Commonwealth by himself. Yes, he has travelled and scouted around Diamond City when he was stationed at the Cambridge Station. But even those little expeditions were dangerous at that point of time. Those memories still spark a pang of hurt deep within his chest.

He pushes it aside as he walks down the stairs to the Diamond City centre. He hasn’t seen Nate in two weeks. A whole two weeks since they infiltrated the Institute together with the Minutemen and destroyed the evil from the Commonwealth.

He was more than honoured to do so when Nate had asked him to be by his side. It had given him something to shoot at and fight for.

A part of him only hoped that it would have been the Brotherhood to participate in such a role. But Danse couldn’t argue with Nate when he was set in his ways. His mind was made up ages ago. The whole ordeal out of the Listening Post was probably what tipped him over the edge. It always something that Danse stills ponders on. Still thinking that that day was his last.

But he’s still here, alive, as a synth can get, and standing naked in Diamond City. Not naked per say, but he feels like it.

He’s come without his power armour at Nate’s request. He felt more at home inside of one. But the fact that Nate had asked him to come without one? It made him feel weary travelling from the Castle to Diamond City without it. But he trusts Nate’s judgement even if it might be questionable at times.

Like standing still while aiming down his scope as a super mutant suicider came barrelling his way. Danse was still his sponsor back then and hounded into Nate for being so stupid. He left it out of the report, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing he did for the Brotherhood matters.

He pulls his bomber jacket closer around his chest, the late autumn breeze cold today. He ventures through the market to Nate’s residents at the Home Plate, ignoring the multiple people calling his way trying to upsell their products. He doesn’t need a haircut, or some ammo, or a… swatter? He eyes the red faced man before continuing on.

Anyways.

Danse gives three sharp knocks on the door and takes a step away. He eyes the empty power armour rack, wondering where Nate has kept his T-45. It wasn’t at the Castle, he just came from there. Maybe he’s left it up at the Red Rocket with his wide collection of power armours. He waits a few minutes before knocking again. He doesn’t want to intrude even though he knows Nate wouldn’t care. It’s more out of respect than anything.

“Danse.”

Slowly -at the sound of the very unique voice-, the ex-Paladin turns to meet the synth detective with a frown. Valentine narrows his gaze to him with a raised brow.

“Valentine,” he responds back blandly.

“Glad to see you out and about after everything,” the detective says with as much sarcasm as possible.

“Where’s Nate?” Danse gets to the point, his tone blunt and firm.

But Valentine doesn’t faulter to the demand. His stark yellow eyes flickers behind the former soldier before back at him. “He’s this way,” he says instead with a small wave of his hand.

Danse hesitates for a moment, glancing to the door before reluctantly following after Valentine. He’s well aware that his hate towards the synth is something that’s hypocritical. Yet there’s something so intertwined in Danse’s heart that he hasn’t been able to rid himself of yet. Could be the same reason why he was so ready to die by Nate’s hands. Dropped to his knees and begged that he needed to be the example, not the exception.

Yet Nate had still dragged him from his knees and pleaded. Showed him mercy that Danse didn’t deserve. The ex-Paladin doesn’t think he deserved it. He’s heard from others that Nate has a bleeding heart and Danse wouldn’t be the one to object to those claims. Sometimes it’s a dangerous thing. Getting them into more trouble at times.

The two don’t get far. Valentine stops just outside the chems store and points a skinny, metal finger upwards. Danse looks up without a word and doesn’t see it at first, but when he does he can’t help but stare.

There’s a small, makeshift balcony atop of Nate’s residents, one that overlooks the city. A grand view of the place. It’s a lovely little spot that Nate paid a pretty cap for. But there in his little red throne -a single seater couch- with his head lolled onto his chest, is Nate fast asleep. His hands are overlapped on his torso with his legs outstretched. He reminds Danse of one of those older settlers at Sanctuary that can be seen napping the day away. Every, single, day.

“How long has he been up there?” Danse asks casually. His shoulders have relaxed and his head is slightly cocked to the side like a dog.

“Around three hours now,” Valentine answers with a chuckle. “As far as I know from Piper they came back from the Railroad. They’ve been keeping him on his toes lately trying to help the synths you and him helped out.”

Danse swallows thickly. “It was all him.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” Valentine speaks softly. “But at least give yourself some credit.”

There’s no response to that and the synth detective hums at that.

“Is that why I haven’t seen high or nigh of you lately? Didn’t want to deal with other synths?” Valentine asks, jabbing at this point.

Danse swallows thickly and changes the subject. “Why was Piper with him?”

Valentine lightly rolls his eyes and looks back up Nate. “She wanted a story. The aftermath of the Institute and what nots. Don’t know how good it’ll be with the Railroad wanting to stay hidden and all.”

“Does it matter anymore with the Institute gone?” Danse asks a genuine question.

It takes Valentine back a bit, the question actually making him wonder. “To some degree, yeah. There’s still synths out there that believe in what the Institute was doing.” The detective pauses for a moment, staring at the soldier. “You’d know that if you didn’t go off hiding away. Nate needs you right now more than ever.”

Danse swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’ll wake him,” is all he murmurs before walking off.

He brings the spare keys to Home Plate out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the door. He wouldn’t normally let himself in, despite Nate having told him in the past that this place is more welcome to call home than anywhere else. Like the Castle and Sanctuary.

“It’s ours,” he has said once. It sounds weird on his mind as it did hearing it the first time from Nate’s mouth.

Yet whenever Danse is at those settlements as well, he feels more of the need to keep on his toes and work. Make sure that everything is in order, checking the defence systems more moving onto the water supplies, then onto the generators. Keeping his mind and body preoccupied so that he doesn’t have to think of other pressing matters. Just like the Brotherhood had ironed into him.

But Home Plate, it’s probably the only place that Danse has ever felt relaxed. The noise that seeps in through the thin walls of the place reminds him all too well of the Prydwyn, an all too welcoming murmur of noise. Theres no checklists at Home Plate. Only the mundane need to keep the place tidy of dust and other critters that decide to make themselves home.

Danse is quick to take himself up the stairs to the balcony. He opens the door as quietly as he can, peering around the corner to where Nate still sleeps peacefully on the couch. The ex-Paladin can’t help but watch for a moment with his brown eyes. The usual frown that has somehow become a permanent thing on Nate’s face has now smoothed out.

With a quick glance out below, Valentine is nowhere to be seen and the people of Diamond City pay them no mind. One other thing that was ironed into Danse was their concept on attraction. A Paladin had to be at his best at all times. And that meant to having someone you love dearly being on your mind. The quality and the care for a Paladin’s garrison was all that Danse was able to think about.

Yes, he had come to a point in his sponsorship with Nate that his brewing feelings could mean something much more. Seeing someone being able to hold their own and being able to lead. It had wanted Danse to know more about Nate and who he was before the war. What things were like back then.

Slowly, Danse kneels down to one knee next to Nate’s outstretched legs. He brings a hand up gently and caresses the sleeping man’s face who stirs. Nate inhales deeply as his dark blue eyes blink awake through a squinted, peeping gaze. He looks to Danse with a bleary expression before a warm smile comes to his lips. He leans into the rough hand on his face, cupping it with his own. He turns his face into Danse’s palm and gives it a light kiss, his movements still filled with the grogginess of sleep.

“I think I may still be dreaming,” Nates murmurs groggily.

Danse stands up and places a kiss to the other’s forehead. “Rise and shine.”

Nate groans loudly as he stretches his stiff joints in the couch. He looks out to the small city and blinks.

No matter how much the Brotherhood had said about attraction and love, Nate had always made it feels welcoming though. Something that Danse still finds himself having trouble pulling away from. These past two weeks have been hell sent. But he won’t admit that out loud where the world can hear.

Nate then looks to his pip-boy as he licks his lips. His face goes from placid to wide and frantic within less than a second.

“I was out for over three hours!?” He exclaims as he suddenly sits up straight.

Danse responds quickly with, “Your body needed the rest after everything you’ve been putting yourself through.”

Nate stands up, running a hand through his hair as his peace is disrupted by his own mind and responsibilities once more. This is probably the first time in months that Nate has had some time to himself.

“We’re going to be late!” Nate exclaims. “Did you let me sleep that long?” He asks with no bite to his tone.

“I only just arrived here,” Danse states.

That seems to calm the other man down a bit, his tense shoulders sagging. “Okay then we would have been late anyways,” Nate says more to himself than to the ex-Paladin.

“Why did you want me here?” Danse asks.

Deep blue eyes focus back onto the soldier. “Did you pick up those care packages?” He asks.

Danse could make a comment. A bad comment that would most likely have Nate snapping at him. Because why did Nate have him go to a Railroad drop point to meet up with Deacon of all people to hand him this, box? A care package of some sorts. Deacon hadn’t said much, had just said good luck before moving on with a fat grin on his face. He had tipped his wig of hair like some man in a suit would tip their fedora. It was odd and only had Danse confused even further.

But knowing that this job had to do with the Railroad, he couldn’t help but let that old hatred towards them linger and simmer. He’s aware it’s wrong, they help others of his kind. Synths. Yet there it was, that distaste that comes to his tongue whenever he’s near them or mentioned.

So, he replies with a simple and bland, “Yes.”

Nate picks up on his though and looks to him with a raised brow. “You didn’t do anything stupid with Deacon, did you?” He asks with a hand on his hip.

Danse’s brows shoot up. He should be offended at Nate saying such a thing! “No! I wouldn’t harm one of your contacts even if they’re-“ he cuts himself short. “I wouldn’t,” he repeats himself, his voice more on the verge of a whine than anything else. He clears his throat, hoping to cover it up.

He shuffles around inside of his bomber jacket and holds out the two care packages to Nate instead. Hoping to distract the man from his current inner panic.

Nate takes the packages with a thank you. He opens them both up without a word, looking inside to make sure that everything is intact. From where Danse stands, he can’t see anything but from the look on Nate’s face, everything is satisfactory.

“Alright!” Nate exclaims as he snaps the packages shut. He places them under his arm as he makes his way back into Home Plate. “I want you to join me for a delivery!”

“A delivery?” Danse can’t help but ask.

“A very, dangerous delivery,” Nate grins slyly before he disappears inside.

Danse can’t help but roll his eyes at the comment. Isn’t everything dangerous when it comes to the man? The way he does things is, questionable. Danse groans to himself, before heading inside after the other.

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