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since64bce · 3 days

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Hell Within Hell

Alastor-Radio Demon- x Sinner reader

Synopsis: Alastor has inhibited hell for years. He knows it's ins' and outs'. But when it comes to him, his coppery heart, and an unexpected new-found perspective on his assistant, a new hell is created for him as he tries to wrestle with the shiny new concept of love. Just a few short pieces of writing and some head cannons'. Nothin' fancy.

Word count: Don't know. Warnings: Alastor.

By gosh what a tragedy. What a wonderful, terrible tragedy. What a questionable, concerning tragedy. How lovely it is. How problematic. Did Shakespeare end up in hell for all the souls he stole in the theatre? I pray for him if that was ever the case. And not because his soul wandered into eternal damnation. Oh no, there's a fate much worse than that, and his name is Alastor.

When the heart becomes stale it also becomes a waste of space, a space that could be used for more lung capacity instead. Because of this reason, Alastor often had thoughts of compulsively ripping it right out, especially, strangely, and more so now that it was finally of use. If Shakespeare really was in hell, Alastor wanted to kill him. If he was a bug, he'd place the man beneath Nifty's blade. And if he was in Heaven- which would be unwarranted given all the hearts he's crushed- Alastor would find a way to drag him down into Hell to watch his tragic little heart suffer for eternity. Because it's his texts in which Alastor has stumbled upon. And it's from his texts in which Alastor has learnt about love and all it has to offer.

Alastor is a refrained lover, if you could call the demon a lover at all. At best he's okay at love, if thats what you wanted to call whatever the thing Alastor thinks "love" is.

Being an overlord, you'd think he was capable of anything.

Uhh lower your expectations sis.

Problem No.1 with Alastor (which was really hard to find) is that he's not really the lovey dovey type. Does he get passionate about certain things? Of course darling. But when was the last time it was about a lowly sinner like yourself? (Hear the crickets babe? Yea pretty much that).

However I feel like this is true only for a few years after he's met you.

I'd say it's a "You-fell-first-(but then lowkey realised it ain't never happening type thing so you stopped)-he-fell-harder-(and got confused so didn't pursue it for like six fuxking months)

Being an overlord you'd think he was capable of anything but in all honestly love confuses this sweet🍬, sweet🍭, neurotic👹 boy.

His heart is in tatters and moth eaten like some dusty old drape. Nobody's ever come into his life that mattered to him much before.

And when I say "mattered" it doesn't come under the "slightly useful to him but couldn't care less" umbrella either.

Like it's a genuine feeling of not wishing for somebody to just fucking up and leave his demonic little world.

It's as if you're just so convenient for him to be able to slot you into his crazy, batshit puzzle of a life. And you fit so perfectly and meticulously, and you make it look rather complete, that he just doesn't really feel he needs you gone.🙂🙃

And thats his very lopsided version of love that he hasn't created a full understanding around yet. But hopefully will... one day.💕

Why would someone like him like someone like you!?? 🤯😧

Oh please bitch Alastor in Alastor's world is a special, clever little princess, nobody can top him.

When he first laid eyes on you, you were just another darling sack of shit staying at the Hazbin sorry not sorry. (Boo me idc this is how your love story goes 😤)

You weren't special at all. In fact, to him you were just a normal bad sinner doing the normal bad sinner things. There was nothing alluring about you, there was not a single aura or attractive quirk or special little something on the inside nor the outside that made him love you. You were like a crusty little stray dog, period. Not even a cute one.

In fact not even your death story was cool you got like hit by a bus or something idfc but it was nothin striking babes

You weren't even that bad of a sinner tbh. You were just a lying cheating fu k that got hit by a bus before you could find Jesus and repent

Anyways then you have Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr.Alastor who can do funny shit with his shadows oh dear lord save me

So as I said before, you, my dear, had a little crush for him first. Or, more realistically, you caught the love bug. Because don't we all know how little Nifty loves her bugs (dead).

Yes, you hiccupped on your blushy, fluffy feelings because trying to find genuine love and care within Ali's cold little heart at the time would've been damn near impossible. Like being stuck in a maze within a maze within a stone wall that had no exit.

So, yes dear, a hard pill to swallow ik but you got there in the end .

Over the years following, you and Alastor became a nice little duo. Like an elegant doberman and it's small rat-dog companion (guess which ones which).

Everybody in the Hazbin hotel has their own little niche, whether it be porn-starring or bar tending.

Yours was running errands for Alastor.

In his eyes you were comparable to an assistant even though the title was never officially yours. And he didn't want it to be yours because the role of facilities manager was a one person job.

Besides you did other things than just hotel errands.

You were more like an assistant Alastor. And that suited the both of you just fine. To Alastor you were remarkably useful, to you Alastor was an interesting boss and a form of strange company you somehow enjoyed. His presence, albeit staticky, was charming. He was a hard one to shake off, that man.

And then he began noticing you. And not just in the general way. I mean thats how it all starts off doesn't it?

It starts with a moment.

His boring "normie" of a companion... charmed him in some way. He didn't know how.

It was after one of his avid radio broadcasts when he switched off the set and just sat there in the silent darkness illuminated by the controls. Not even his voice filled the air, which was a strange noise to behold. Oddly peaceful, huh.

And then it got him thinking about your voice and how it could come and disrupt his blissful, peaceful silence at any moment. Pestering him with something new, as the very un-special sound of it filled the room.

You did like to disrupt things.

You've had your fair share of moments you've disrupted.

With your normal voice.

Filling the room.

It got his cogs spinning as he thought about you so normal and dull and boring. But it seemed that he really did know quite a lot about you.

You were never a drug addict in the middle world, never any kind of addict, never any kind of slave to anything or anybody but the lies you told others. Admirable achievement in this crowd down here.

But still, what a boring Mary Sue.

Typical Mary Sue behaviour that you should also try and recover from your compulsive lying, and actually bother to make use of the facilities the Hazbin Hotel had to offer.

Charming. But petty.

Just today he had asked you about an errand you'd run, only to find out that you had lied about running it.

You were supposed to have given some bird food to the cuckoo in the cuckoo clock. It was a fools errand he had given you to make you go away for a second. But you had told him you had actually done it.

Until you admitted you lied.

Inside the broadcast tower, Alastor let out a quiet laugh. He didn't know why it was quiet, he was the only person in the tower, and even if he were with other people its not like he'd care.

But what was so funny?

He thought back to the conversation: "I don't know what you're talking about," you had told him. "I never fed the stupid clock." And then he said, "Oh dear, well thats quite contrary to what I was told before." And you said, "damnit" under your breath and walked away, annoyed at yourself for having broken your sobriety, going to go repent to Charlie for the fifth time that day.

Again, Al found himself smiling ever wider and trying to keep his steady flow of chuckles beneath his fingers. Soon he was hunched over, finding other stories about you drifting to his head.

Unbeknownst to him, the layer of ice on his heart was slowly beginning to melt in the section that he reserved for you.

He realised you were such a funny fickle little thing, he realised he was quite fond of you as his assistant. It made no sense. And after the laughter was over something else took over.

A sense of something between fiery anger and grief contaminated his pores. He realised he had let you into his heart. He tried to quickly freeze it over again, however, it was too late, it seemed you had already brushed its surface.

The next day when you two were busying yourselves with errands, you came across each other in a hallway.

There was something off about his face on this particular day. Because when you looked at his face which was watching over your face, you never found his signature smile. For once you saw his lips relaxed. For once you saw his elusive eyes really looking at you like nobodies ever looked at you before.

And then he walked right past like nothing happened. However something had happened. Something incredibly unexpected and wrong. Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr. Alastor had found someone who mattered.

Boring, normie, lacklustre, lukewarm, little. Old. You.

It's a quiet day at the Hazbin Hotel. But it's always a quiet day isn't it? Hell is rock bottom, and once you hit rock bottom, well, what's the point in not wandering around for a bit?

You were only here because Charlie picked you up before the Sinners mentality could reach you.

At the same time, you were also only here because of Alastor.

Alastor, the lean, lanky overlord which you couldn't help but like somewhat. Cold and calculating despite the warm colours he wore. charming and pleasant despite his scary appeal. He was one reason why you enjoyed your stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

But he was also one reason why you hated it.

Lately anyway.

You've tried to bring it up with him but he simply won't listen. He doesn't even laugh anymore he just grimaces. It's been two whole months since he last smiled at you and you feel as though your beginning to get withdrawals- as sappy as that sounds. But it's true. As funny as it is to say, hell seems less pleasant, and even the Hazbin, despite Miss Morningstar's lovely presence, is falling short of joy and dunking deeper into the gloomy reality that is damnation.

They say that reality is just your perception. However, why has your perception been so fragmented by just a absence of a single smile?

Oh but you knew didn't you? You still loved him.

You thought you were past it but you weren't. You're such a brilliant liar that you can even trick yourself into believing things that aren't true. How remarkable. How depressing.

Ugh.

He's probably finally gotten bored of you. In fact, you've probably bored him into some kind of chronic depression that triggers every time he see's your boring, depressing face. Double ugh. And now you can't stand to look in the mirror. Sometimes you lay awake at night wondering what you've done to him and if it's you that's broken his perfect smile or something else. But everything he does points at you, and with this ridiculous jacket of blame on your shoulders you don't know how to look in his eyes anymore without feeling humiliated.

Oh and now he's behind you, watching you sit beneath the stupid cuckoo clock with a pile of birdseed in your palm. Humiliating? No something worse than that. You must look ridiculous. Desperate. Ridiculously desperate.

'Well, I feel it's too late now don't you? That ridiculous lie is still a lie, also the bird isn't real if you didn't get the memo,' taunted the inevitably superficial voice of the radio host. You could feel him behind you but you couldn't see him. The mans presence was very strong, a quirk, perhaps, that came with being an overlord. Although at times you could hardly tell when he'd enter a room at all. 'Now, why are you sitting, staring at the wall like a dummy? Did dear Charlie put you in time out for being a liar?'

'Fuck you, Alastor,' you huffed, 'you know I'm working on it.'

'Not making much progress I see.'

You could hear his non-smile in his voice. You didn't even turn around, you didn't have to, plus, you didn't want to.

'After you're finished working out your lying problem, perhaps you should focus on your swearing problem,' he said. You could hear the ruffling of Al's suit as he presumably crouched down, and then the cold lick of his breath as he got close to your ear. 'It's not so classy, my dear, for someone like you to have such a foul mouth.'

'Fuck- I know- just fuck off!'

You heard Alastor tut behind you, sighing disapprovingly.

You turned and looked him in the eyes. They looked bemused, however, his mouth told you a different story. He looked slightly chilling without that smile of his. Perhaps that was another reason for your sleeping troubles lately. 'Go ahead and do it you creep, kill me, I know ya wanna,' you declared, he cocked his head to the side, terrifyingly interested in your proposition. You had to resist the urge to swallow. 'Also now I've seen you without a smile I think I've seen it all, kill me I'm ready.'

You were half joking, but you still watched Alastor out of the corner of your eye, a habit you had developed.

'No.'

'That's not like you, Alastor.'

'What can I say? I am a man of many surprises. And you're far too valuable to me to kill you, assistant.' He added the last part in slowly, watching you like a hawk.

And then you saw it.

The faintest glimmer of tooth.

The littlest crease beside his lip.

And did he just call you valuable? A compliment from Alastor? Kill me now, you thought, it wasn't gonna get much better than this. And then Alastor's distinct vocals piped up again, 'ha ha! You look dumbfounded, sweetheart. Is there something I can help you with?'

His smile disappeared. And so did that feeling of hope in your stomach, leaving you empty again, and so you said, 'what do you even want Alastor? why'd you come find me? You're just toying with me now.'

'I'm afraid I toy with everyone, assistant.'

You felt him watching you as you crossed the room and put the birdseed in the bin, you felt him watching you as you dusted off your hands and made your way to the door.

'Smile,' you ordered. One final attempt.

Once again he cocked his head, raising his eyebrows, no expression in the mouth and whatever expression was in the eyes seemed to be told in another language. 'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

Alastor has been a mess lately.

A clean mess no doubt. But he's been walking around half naked for months, alas, he can't bring himself to smile, which was more like a piece for clothing for him now more than anything. It got to the point where the Radio Demon thought that it had finally lost it's sincerity and emotion. But clearly not, as it's absence has been due to nothing but sincerity and emotion, two things which Alastor had never really exercised. Two things which were out of his hands.

And it's been ever since he found you wandering the hellish plains of his mind.

Yes, he was the skeleton in the closet, the monster beneath the bed, the not-your-typical-spooky-guy. But maybe he's finally found a weakness, and that thought slapped his smile right off his face.

And his assistant was all to blame.

You were all to blame.

He found his hands shaking as he looked at you, he carefully analysed that angry look about you as you stood rigidly at the door. There was nothing threatening about you, your face wasn't scary like his was, however he found himself mildly irritated by your defiances' today, mildly saddened at your obvious depression, and mildly livid that he couldn't get you off his mind.

So no, he wasn't threatened, you just mildly made him want to pull his hair out.

'Smile.'

'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

Your smile? And what was that supposed to mean? Was he supposed to rip your mouth off and take your smile for his own? He looked at you, he looked at your lips, imagined touching them, imagining slicing them off you as your blood spilled and you screamed. And then he found himself putting the thought down, finding that he didn't really want that thought. How strange. Your smile wouldn't suit his face anyway, it looks much sweeter on you.

'If you smile at me I'll smile at you back,' you clarified, still with that rather hostile look in your eyes. You didn't really look in the smiling mood darling.

But it gave Alastor pause for thought.

Oh. So that's what you meant. Interesting. An equal exchange.

Al brought the memory of your smile up in his mind. It was pleasant enough. Charming enough... Oh who was he kidding? Sometimes he wished you could tell him the lies he told himself so he'd believe them better.

Your smile. It was sweet and dainty and lovely, and there was not a night that had passed in which he hadn't thought about it in some fleeting way.

Squeezing, hurting, reaching. He wanted to rip his heart out right then and there as he looked at you glaring at him from the doorframe.

And that's when he walked right up to you without warning. You barely had time to back away. And he took in your wonderful face with all of your wonderful features, from the lovely curve of your nose, to the shape of your very skull, to the fat of your cheeks to the pigment of your skin (which had turned wonderfully rosy beneath his fingers).

And then he took in your smile.

And he realised he was smiling too.

And he was so angry with himself, and irritated at you for making him feel this way. And so he leaned in and carefully placed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. Wanting to do it again and again and again but worried that he could smudge away the perfection that was you.

In the end he just grinned at you.

...

And then walked away like nothing happened.

...

A/N- Ik the tiny one shot at the end is shit but it's like 1 am and I have school tomorrow, I've watched like 4 episodes and I don't even know who tf Lucifer is yet so don't even come at me bitchens 🖕🥷

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #vivienne medrano #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor oneshot #alastor headcanons #radio demon

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sheepispink · 2 days

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A Pearl Necklace

HAPPY ENDING VER of A Pearl Series

Ch1 Ch2

Where leon doesnt mess up and also leons pov because THATS SO FUN!!!

Continued from end of chapter 1 👍 this is a BONUS chapter. It makes more sense if you read chapter 2 first then this one. This can also be read as a continuation from chapter 2 as in the time line is the same except that it is ends with a good way and its his pov and like a few lines r diff

“That’s good enough. I fucking hate being woken to push her away from me..” A surge of anger swims in his chest as he shuffles to the edge of his bed, fuelled by a fear he doesn’t dare to pay mind to. It’s true, he hadnt wanted to deal with your tears or the feeling of you so close to him; nowadays

it created a feeling that was like a gnawing at his gut. His body eventually settles as his head sinks into the pillows, fluffed by your hands. Even when he’s tucked underneath the covers and beside the love of his life, he just feels so, so.. vulnerable. He rolls onto his side, one hand under his head as he tries to settle a racing pump somewhere in his chest, his eyes squeezing close. His throat chokes and his muscles clench and although he hasn’t made a sound, the reminder of the past few weeks screams in his ears like bells. Every single day is starting to feel more and more like autopilot, blanking his head out in hopes he can do his job without being reminded of horrors of years ago. He was worked up tonight, having fought another B.O.W and hiding a nasty gash beneath his shirt. You’d definitely ask about it later; the mere possibility bringing a flame of anger and forcing him take a sharp intake of breath. He turns over, seeing your back face him now and his lips pull at a small frown, wondering if you woke up for a moment. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep, ever. But he leaves you this time, still revolting the thought of your touch and your skin if he dared to come closer.

When he wakes the next morning, he cant take it anymore. How is there another round of tears upon her face? He finally pushes away the nausea that creeps in his throat, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Hey, love, what happened? Who did this to you?” Forcing such honeyed words feels like a crime to himself, almost making him frustrated with himself for being untruthful. He also hates the way he’s grateful when you just wipe them away and force a smile, mumbling something about watching a sad movie. Not even for a moment does he dare challenge that, satisfied with a lie as he gets up for another gruelling day.

Over the next month, he feels a swell of pride for how much he has healed. For one, he’s managing his thoughts and emotions much better, no longer hanging on a loose thread whenever someone just speaks. He feels better, having finally gotten to the hang of closing his mind off whenever the thoughts arose. He was sleeping better, you barely even touched him in his sleep anymore— it was perfect. The one thing that slightly irked him is when you would leave the house. Why are you leaving? He hates that he’s curious and he knows he should just let you go; it’s another fuel for the temper that seems to take him easily these days. You’ve also been asking a lot of questions about him recently: how he finds the clothes you ironed for him, the food you cooked and, worst of all, his day. He’s already doing enough to push it away and you’re just bringing it right back to him again.

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

He smells the familiar scent of blueberry pancakes as he steps into the kitchen that morning. You’ve been making them again recently but he wont dwell on the why and how. He doesn’t really like to think too much anymore. He picks up the newspaper as he sits at the small kitchen island, hair tousled and muscles aching from the long rest he received after a particularly tough mission. He had woken up on the other side of the bed today, kind of confused how he didn’t squash you in his sleep but as always, he doesn’t question anything. You slide a plate over to him, stacked high with those tasty pancakes and a dollop of whipped cream atop. He always had a bit of a sweet tooth and it’s been a long time since he’d been in the mood for sugar. Regardless, he’s not in the mood to smile or thank you, just eating his food as per normal.

“So..? Did I finally get it right?” He doesnt need to look up to see the small laugh and the way your lips curve into a teasing smile, one he had grown to despise. You always do this, every time you ask about his damn day.

He just- he cant take this anymore. You’re always prying, digging deep into his head and ripping bandages he left on because the wounds wont heal, they never will. He keeps them patched up for a reason, he doesn’t want to see it again. Nor does he want to talk about it.

“Can you stop interrogating me every day about whatever you do? It’s fine, okay? It’s never been any damn different; I don't see the big deal.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth as he holds back from practically shouting at you. His eyebrows furrow in exasperation, one hand rubbing his temple; he cant bear the headaches your words bring.

“I.. Leon- I was just trying to get some feedback.. They dont ever taste as good as the ones you would make.” Now you’re reduced to a stammering mess, trying to stir guilt within his gut, but he wont give in today.

“Well, can you stop? It’s really fucking annoying having to answer your stupid questions every day over menial things. Are you that insecure?” He doesn’t know why he said that but he knows it’s left his lips before he can stop it and one pang in the back of his head tells him that maybe he really is just being honest. You are insecure, thats why you’ve been doing so damn much and annoying him all the time. He takes another bite of the pancakes, his body screaming for relief even now with each rumble of his stomach.

“Leon- I understand work has been stressing you, but I'm just trying-“ There it is, that stupid expression again as you speak the one thing he never wanted you to say. “Work? That's what you think this is about? Maybe you are just idiotic or too narcissistic to realise maybe you are the problem.” He drops the fork in his hand, the metal hitting the porcelain plate as he stands. Of course you just had to mention work, you could never let him get a break could you? You just always had to ruin it for him.

“I am trying to actually be understanding, I'm sorry if I annoyed you but Leon- there is no need to put me down like that.” Again. Work. Don’t you know how to stop? He can feel that anger fuel again, rising and burning with each an every word. Until it snaps.

“You think you’re being understanding.” He laughs at your pitiful expression, thick with a mocking tone, as he says the words. “I can’t believe it. You actually think that. If you can get one thing through your mind, know that you don’t understand anything about me. You never have. Hah.. ever since that night where I almost fucking choked you.” He sneers at you, pushing the chair back as he stands, walking over to the sink with footsteps that echo with uncontrolled emotions.

“I’ve been trying to ask you—to help you. I want to be there for you..“

“Yeah, as if. You know, on that night, I really thought that you might just understand, unlike anyone else has. I was stupid enough to even think that. You just told me your same stupid reassurances; I should’ve kept my hands on your throat a little longer that day. I wish it scared you off and out of my life.” He snaps, leaving a thick tension in the air, like a wall between the pair of you. It’s cruel and unforgiving and an ache in his heart tears the muscle. Bloodthirst, it’s all he can remember from that virus thrumming in his veins. He can’t just quench that bloodthirst, not to you, so his mouth does the work, wearing you down bit by bit. The consuming memory of devouring the very life out of a human, it’s almost like it’s returning to him now.

“You’re not what I wanted.” Words are just spilling out his lips and he cant even control them; he cant even hear each calculated insult.

“I shouldn’t have expected things you could never reach.” He speaks, the plate dropping into the sink with a horrible clatter. All your words are blurring into one, meeting, intersecting all at that one statement ‘work has been stressing you’.

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

He stands before the sink, having splashed his face with water at least seven times for the past forty minutes. Only now does he finally feel more like himself—or well the version of himself he prefers to exist as—and his head is free from that invasive fog. Slowly his chest falls, letting out a long breath as his finger pushes the tap off. He hasn’t dealt with that in a while and it only served to remind him that he never wanted to again. That feeling of an aching chest, ribs feeling like they’d crack from the pound of a terrified heart, desperate for relief. Although he always manages to calm every time, the edge of the cut always remains unsealed. Theres no real relief other than the fact it’s all over, no peace in his mind ever. It frustrates him all the more, he’s tried anything and everything and yet theres still that pinprick of a hole which has cracked his mind and heart.

After that, he barely stopped interacting with you altogether. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. Maybe it was because you really were pissing him off about everything or that he had started to fall out of love with you. Or maybe, though he never liked to let it linger, he was terrified of the memories only you could resurface. He watched your every frown, the light in your eyes slowly dim out as you start to shift and change. It’s been two months since he last considered you his wife, let alone someone he even cared for. He barely feels the guilt of leaving you like this anymore nor does he feel anything anymore. It just feels blank. Like everyday, every hour, every minute of these days. He can’t remember when he last washed his hair; he just knows he did it. He cant remember filling out the reports, but there they sit on the desk. He cant remember what life was like before the missions.

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

Six months. It’s been six months since he almost killed you, since his hands were on your throat and your terrified expression flashed through his eyes with your shaking pupils and beating chest.

Six months since he hurt you. He thought you had moved on, he thought he moved on. He thought he was doing okay.

Only having just stepped through the doorway, his eyes already found your trembling form on the couch. Your eyes were red and wet, salty streaks down your cheeks as you sob. The worst of all is that when you heard him enter, your eyes widened in a way that was far worse than just regular shock. Like you’d be scolded or mocked, shouted at or reprimanded; you looked like you were scared you would be hurt. He couldn’t shake that sight this time, every time he looked at you even when you scramble to reassure him that it was just hormonal. He knew it was bullshit; he had always known and he wanted to ignore it but he just couldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you were scared of him.

He sits at the breakfast table again the next morning, the air quiet from the lack of humming when you make your food, not even music playing in the kitchen or a pep in your step as you dance around the kitchen. You dont spend 5 minutes fluffing the pillows before bed, nor do you use those stupid face masks with the silly patterns. Hell, you dont even put makeup on anymore. The fridge is stocked and yet theres not even a trace of you to mark it as yours. Everything seems to have changed more than he expected. He cant fathom that he missed all these little differences and the fact there were so many. You’re not the same anymore.

There you go again, leaving randomly during the day after scrambling some excuse about needing spring onions. You barely ever use spring onions and he’s positive he saw some in the freezer yesterday. Whilst he usually would’ve ignored it, he finds himself edging closer and closer until he finds himself following you down the road. He saw the fresh tearstains this morning and you gave him no explanation again, this time he will find out.

You walk and walk and walk, and yet you never go to the grocery store like you said. So why do you even leave the house? It’s not like you were avoiding him, you still hung around him plenty and it’s not like you just needed fresh air, otherwise you would’ve just said so. He keeps his distance as he follows you, your depressed expression obvious, until eventually you pass by a friend. It doesn’t look planned but eventually the pair of you sit at a bench and as bad as it seems, he just cant turn around now. What if you tell her the reason you’re always upset? He needs to know.

“Hey, you know i always see you outside these days. I mean damn, do you really love nature that much?” Your friend teases, although a small pitiful look swirls in their eyes. Leon had been wondering the same thing as her.

“I uh.. well..” You give a sheepish smile as you lean into the bench. “I figured Leon would want some alone time.”

“Again? You come like everyday.”

You just shrug, sinking into the bench and quickly shifting the topic with a shake of your head.

A lot of things are starting to become clearer to him now. Every single action of yours held genuine love and yet he couldnt even bear to think about it. He wouldn’t dare to, he couldnt give in no matter how tempting it seemed. This is the life he chose; the life that would kill him slowly but it had it’s perks. He heads home after that, thinks about what happened for a bit before deciding ultimately to leave you alone again. Even so, you still plague his mind every night, every minute and second. It still makes his chest burn all the more, his irritation on an all high. He should not care, he cannot care. So why does it feel like he’s going to eventually break?

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

His body is covered in bruises when he returns home that night, a bandage around one of his hands and his eyes sunken. He had never felt worse in his life, feeling like he was tipping on the edge of fainting or just losing everything altogether. His heavy feet dragged him, feeling like weights were pulling him back as he reached the doorstep. After a few mishaps, he finally finds the keys and unlocks the door. His boots echo on the hardwood floor and though he’d usually collapse into bed, he needs some painkillers desperately tonight. The door for the kitchen is right there but he feels compelled to head to the living room and check if you’re awake. He hates that he’s actually glad he did.

This feels like the memories that resurface, only a new kind. You’re crying, again. You’re sobbing your eyes out and he’s had enough; he’d exhausted, bruised and battered and he’s not letting guilt consume him tonight. How dare you disturb the life he forced himself to follow? Anger swells at the sound and sight of you crying today, not because it hurt his hears but because it hurts his heart. The footsteps grow louder as he nears the couch and he hates the way you look up at him in a trembling fear, hands gripping the fabric of your pajama trousers. “L-leon, i didnt mean- it was a sad movie-“

“Stop giving me those fucking excuses.”

He’s pissed, his body feels broken, and he’s not letting you get by anymore. He’s letting that anger reign free. He nears the couch until he’s standing before you, no words spilling out your lips as you freeze up in fear. He could do anything to you but would he actually harm you? He knows he looks like he would, and he sees that realisation flash before your eyes. He leans down, closer and time seems to slow as his hand reaches out. His eyes focus on how you squeeze your eyes shut, the mere sight grasping his heart tight, brace for the impact and the sting of pain that should follow if he were anyone else.

But he’s not anyone else and he’s disgusted with himself that you would think so. His hand meets the small of your back as his arm wraps around you. He places your hands around his shoulders, knowing you seem far too frazzled to do so and takes you into his lap as he settles in your seat. In silence, he strains his bruised arm to grab the blanket you keep at the end of the couch. You always said it was for ‘cold nights’ but it always translated to cuddling sessions until you were caught by slumber and he carried you to bed. The warm fluff of the blanket is pulled over the pair of you, his hand keeping you firmly in place against his chest as he makes sure to settle you. He doesn’t dare say a word, the nausea in his throat creeping higher with each brush against your bare arms. But he’ll bear it for you, just this once. He knows your still unsure: he can see the way you sneak small uncertain glances as your hands twitch at his shoulders, begging to wrap around his form. So he doesn’t make you lift a finger, taking your hands in his and helps them to settle around his body before he returns to his embrace on you again. It’s utterly silent in the room yet the need to speak is desperate; the both of you know this isn’t normal and yet neither of you are complaining. With his chin resting gently on the top of your head, he rubs your back slowly until you relax into him and somehow grasp him even tighter. Even though his body feels like a block of ice, some part of him inside melts aswell; a small sign of that vulnerability he despised returns. Yet still he stays here until you begin to mumble small apologies which are only met by a small shake of his head and a motion to stay silent. You immediately fall quiet and he sees your eyes glimmer for the first time in months; he’s not sure if the crying caused it or true hope, but he prays you’re feeling just a smidge better. You end up resting your head against his chest comfortably, glistening tears staining your cheeks as you eventually fall asleep.

He takes you upstairs soon after, settling you on the armchair as he notices the dirty sheets from his lack of care. Despite his previous exhaustion, he couldn’t care less about his bruises as he takes out fresh sheets from the cupboard and changes them quickly. Once the bed smells brand new again, he scoops your drowsy body again, hushing you when you begin to wake, and tucks you beneath the covers. He cant lay beside you in such a state so he begins to head to the bathroom, considering a quick shower just to scrub off any grime. Much to his dismay, he’s quickly stopped, your weary eyes blinking as you sit up in bed and your fingers lightly tugs at his hand.

“I.. uh.. um..”

“Yes?” His voice comes out gruffer than he’d like, fingers twitching at the feeling of your skin against his.

“You- you’re going to come back, right? You’re not going to leave, will you?” The mere sound of your hopeless tone is enough to make him grit his teeth. The question sounds hopeful and yet it’s obvious you think you don’t trust him to say the truth.

“No, i’m not leaving, I’m just taking a a shower.” He states, voice just as cold as the one that would cut you through with insults. Still, his hands are gentle as they push your shoulders back into the bed.

“Go back to sleep..” He sighs, pulling the covers over you again. “I’ll be quick. I promise.” He watches as you reluctantly nod, eyes watching him with distrust before he turns around and disappears into the bathroom.

He stands infront of the mirror again, waiting for his mind to crack and fall as it usually does on these hallowed nights. He had done everything wrong tonight; he touched you, spoke to you, even promised you. He went near you when he shouldn’t have. But no onslaught of fears come today, or that sharp ache in his chest which reminds him on horrors in a foreign place. Instead, he just looks at his confused expression in the mirror, because for the first time in seven months he’s not acting mindlessly. He’s actually thinking, breathing and talking; he’s living. After everything he’s done to survive and live better, the one thing he needed was you. He understands now, after all this time, why his mind was so insistent on staying away from you, why he did everything. It was because he was scared.

Everytime he gets a nightmare, it ends with the fear on your face after that horrible night. The more he pushes it away, the more he tries to forget is the more he ended up harming you. He refused to touch you because of the fear he could do it again. Every single thing shut off in his brain because he was terrified of those traumatic experiences and he couldn’t ever admit it. He even refused to come near you because he was scared you’d try console him and he knew he would break within seconds. Vulnerability had never been his strong suit and the mere fear of it had ended up being the cancer that consumed every single part of him until he became a living shell. He never wanted to hurt you, or snap at you, or make you feel like nothing. He always figured it was better that way because it meant you wouldn’t have to deal with him and he wouldn’t have to open up. He was a coward and he had paid the price for it; the cost would’ve been your sanity if he hadn’t cracked tonight. He doesn’t want to think of what could’ve happened if he didnt, but he has to. Avoiding everything led to this and it will again. His hands plant against the shower wall as he starts to wash, and slowly begins to think about everything he did wrong even if it hurts more than those night terrors.

He watches your drowsy eyes widen upon seeing him when he re-enters the room, his heart aching at the tear stains that shimmer on your cheeks from earlier. “I told you to sleep..” He mumbles out, standing awkwardly in the doorway, wishing he could avert his gaze but that would be too cruel to you. “I..i… you..” Your lips fumble for words, eyes gazing up and down his unclothed body. Just in his boxers, he stands before you with his adams apple bobbing as he swallows sharply. “Yeah..”

From head to toe his once pristine skin was covered in scars and bruises of all kinds. He hadn’t let you seen him since his trip to Spain and the sight had been much more horrible back then. Scratches, bite marks, dark scars that show deep gashes and even fresh purple bruises from today’s mission. He knew he couldn’t bear to speak to you about anything just yet, but he mustered up his courage to at least show you. He was also aware this wouldnt make you magically forgive him and he wouldn’t accept it if you did. He fucked up, everything, but he’s not about to let it die when he can at least help you bounce back. He’d destroy himself if it meant seeing you as happy as you used to be.

“Leon.. i..”

“I know you’re going to feel bad, so don’t. I didn’t want you know, thats not your fault.”

He watches you nod meekly, quiet eyes still scanning all over his scarred form, before he begins to walk hesitantly over to the bed. Clenching his fists, he drives down the burn of pain that comes with each step and the guilt that blazes through his gut. Your hands reach out, tentatively before grabbing onto his own. “..Fine, i wont say that.. but can i say one thing at least?”He lets out a small sigh and nods in agreement, squeezing your hand as he sits in bed next to you. Your eyes flutter meekly as you swallow, his hands carefully lifting you to bring your head to rest on his lap with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I’m pissed at you. I- i really am and-“ Your eyes are persistent as they look right up at him, chest rising quickly as you spill everything out. “You made me feel like i was going insane and-“ He’s concerned at how your nails imprint into your palms before he gently moves your fingers to focus on something else—anything else, even himself. So he pulls you into him as you crumble, your fingers digging into his back as to express your desperation.  “I wanted to help you so bad- i didn’t want us to fall apart and we were, fuck- we couldn’t even be near each other. You looked so miserable every damn day Leon- I couldn’t even do anything about it-“ You let out a choked sob against his neck, his hand pulling you firm against him as he squeezes you protectively.

“It was never your fault, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. I was too much of a fucking coward to face life and i ruined us.” He confesses, the palms of his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. “Dont you dare forgive me, not now. I dont want you forgiving me until you’re absolutely sure.”

You quieten down almost instantly by his words, reaching your hands up to rest behind his neck until eventually you nod and he knows he’s made the right choice. His lips turn up just slightly and then you sit up a little better, trying to look firm even though you had been so vulnerable a moment earlier. That’s why he loves you, you’re just so perfect. Not once have you ever cared about what others think of you, nor do you let yourself be trampled over so easily. Even if you’re lips are wobbly as you narrow your eyes at him right now, coming off more adorable rather than angry. Despite everything he’s ever fought and the praises he receives for his work, you’re the strongest person in this very world and the reason he’s still here. You once told him that if he was a mountain, you’d be like those little flowers that grow at the top even when the conditions are beyond habitable. He’s never believed anything more until now.

“Fine.. if you really want that then i wont forgive you until you tell me everything. I refuse to forgive you until you tell me every little thing in your head.” His lips quirk into a slight smile, a first in too many blank days to count. His thumb rubs the curve of your cheek, so rosy and pink. “I promise, the day you forgive me will come.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before shuffling until he’s laying back in bed with you atop of him. “But for now, i want those dark circles under your eyes gone immediately.”

“You should sleep on the couch for all the days i did.” You feign annoyance, small huff leaving your lips and without a second thought he rises out of bed. It’s like it’s hitting him all over again, like a teenage boy trying to hide his crush, he misses the warmth of your body desperately. Even so, he knows he deserves far worse than sleeping on the couch, so he’ll bear it for now.

“I’ll make you breakfast everyday day going forward too. Blueberry pancakes, just the way you like it.”

Right now, it sounds like the bare minimum, but you had no idea how much he’d love you from now on. He’d tell you more but he’d prefer to see the glimmer in your eyes when you’re surprised. Though you tug at his hand before he can go.

“I think we can leave your punishment for next week. You owe me 6 months worth of love.”

That makes him finally grin and he’s under the covers again, arms enveloping you before you press your lips against his.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fluff #resident evil angst #leon x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #re4 #re4 leon

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mins-fins · 2 days

Text

☁︎ CHAPTER ONE : wait THATS the new guy!?

in which.. you are definitely not enjoying your first day at skyline highlights word count 1.2k

You truly want to die right now.

If you were to earn a nickel for every time you showed at a new job and you encountered two people arguing right in front of building, you would have a good twenty five cents! Five times! Five times this has happened to you! Your starting to think this exact situation has been programmed into your life, no matter where you go it always happens.

If you knew this was going to happen each and every time, you would've stopped trying a long time ago.

The two unknown guys arguing clearly don't notice you, and you feel your face burn as you stand there awkwardly, trying to figure out when you're supposed to start talking. "Um excuse me?"

Both men pause their shouting match and snap their heads towards you, and you swear you almost jump at the way they stare at you. "Oh hi! Do you need something?" The taller of the two asks, your eyes wander over to the ID wrapped around his neck, you are just barely able to read the name etched onto it, watching as it swings back and forth, his name is Kim Jungwoo.

"Oh I uh.. I'm a new hire".

Jungwoo and mystery boy, who you've now identified as Nakamoto Yuta both blink, seemingly puzzled by your words. You want to dig a hole, lay in it, and die, because they're staring at you so intensely that you think they might be trying to curse you. "Since when did we have a new hire?"

Yuta looks baffled by the question, turning to Jungwoo with a scowl leaving his lips. "I literally told you yesterday and kept reminding you a week before that a new product manager was coming after the last one got fired! You never listen to me!"

"Oh do you blame me for not listening you? Your the biggest liar around!"

"Was it because you didn't believe me? Or because your so airheaded you can't comprehend more than a paragraph of information?"

"You do this every time, no wonder Mark is the only one who can tolerate you.."

You blink as you stand between the two and watch their screaming match again occur, oh you're never going to get anywhere with the way everything is unfolding. You don't know how to exactly.. mediate this argument, so you sort of just stand there, watching as their voices get higher and higher.

"Are you two going to argue the whole time?"

The two again stop arguing when a third voice interjects, cutting them off midway through another snappy insult. They both roll their eyes like petty children, but they stop arguing. "Your making the poor guy nervous".

"Blame Yuu for that.."

Yuta wants to respond with another insult from the recesses of his mind, but he's stopped by a glare from the stranger. "You two, be quiet, you're so annoying" He then gives a smile as if he didn't just insult them.

He then turns to you, extending his hand out for a handshake. You reluctantly take his hand and shake it, why do you feel so awkward?

"Moon Taeil! Assistant manager, it's nice to meet you, Yn".

You were about to respond to his greeting, but you pause as he says your name. He notices your confusion, because he snickers. "I read your resume! It was very impressive.."

Your face heats up at the words, and you finally find your voice. "Oh was it? Thank you, thank you! It's nice to meet you too, Taeil".

"Alright! Yn, Yuta, Jungwoo, we still have like nine other people to introduce you too.. anyway, we have to start!"

Without asking, Taeil jolts you forward by the hand, making you squeak as you get tugged into the building.

"Are you nervous?"

Taeil's question makes you clear your throat, an exhale leaving your lips as you stare at the door in front of you. "Yeah" You respond, a pained smile on your face as you earn a hum from the man beside you.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, they all just don't know how to have a civil conversation without shouting".

"Yeah I can see that—"

"Maybe you should check your information before you try to correct me on something!"

"And maybe you should check your tone of voice before your position is taken away!"

You narrow your eyes judgmentally at the door, listening to the rising voices continuing to go back and forth. Taeil laughs at the look on your face, you don't think you've ever been met with so much arguing before, especially on the first day on the job. "What are they even fighting about?"

"Something stupid like if a hotdog is a sandwich or whatever.."

The answer makes you chuckle, and you look to the side as to not begin dying laughing. The door clicks open, and a stressed out employee steps out, sighing heavily. "At this point were never actually going to get to our achieved goal".

The stranger rolls his eyes, but the look of distaste on his face quickly disappears as he turns to you, smiling. "You must be Yn, Lee Taeyong, it's nice to meet you".

Jesus is everybody who works here some gorgeous angel? The question which crosses your mind amuses you, but you don't laugh in fear of looking crazy in front of your new coworkers. "It's nice to meet you too, are they.. okay in there?"

Taeyong blinks, then turns back towards the door, the shouts from inside piercing his ears. "I'm not— yeah I can't even tell anymore, you have nothing to worry about, though, they are all pretty much harmless for the most part" He waves a dismissive hand, placing his hand on the doorknob and turning it open.

You're not sure if that makes you any less nervous, but Taeil places a hand on your arm and gives you a reassuring squeeze. "Come on".

You almost want to immediately run away when you step into the room, the shouting is still there, it seems that these people enjoy throwing insults at each other like there's no tomorrow. You raise an eyebrow as you listen to their excessive swearing.

Taeyong sighs once again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Everyone shut up!" His shout is enough to get most of the yelling to step, even with the distasteful murmurs that follow. "Thank you, this is Yn, the new product manager".

And suddenly, everyone is looking at you, staring you down and practically examining every part of you.

"Wait THATS the new guy!? I thought he was coming tomorrow!"

Yuta then lets out another scoff, punching the taller male beside him in the shoulder. "I told all of you he was coming today! You never listen to me!"

"Can you blame us?"

"Why do all of you say that!? At this point Mark is the only one I can trust".

Taeyong sighs, work is never going to get done. Taeil simply chuckles, amused by the shouting of his coworkers, he looks to you and pokes at your shoulder. "You'll get used to their.. stupidity, you've already met Yuta and Jungwoo, Taeyong is team leader, Johnny marketing coordinator, Doyoung works in finance, Jaehyun communications, Mark creative direction and Donghyuck is head of operations".

You think you mishear him when he points at Donghyuck, who looks like a teenager, you blink, then look back at Taeil. "Donghyuck?"

"Yes?"

"He's head of operations?" You ask, sounding much more judging than you want to. "He looks so.. young".

"Oh, yeah, he's the youngest of the bunch, he's only been here like two years!"

"So why is he head of operations then?"

Taeil simply stares at you, it seems he'd rather leave that question unanswered. "He's just good at his job, of course!"

You blink again, narrowing your eyes at him.

You might not survive your first day here.

previous masterlist next

taglist 𓏧 ↳ @junjiie, @freckledsunshin3

#☆ skyline highlights! 일이칠..#nct 127 #nct 127 au #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 series #moon taeil #johnny suh #lee taeyong #nakamoto yuta #kim doyoung #jeong jaehyun #kim jungwoo #mark lee #lee donghyuck #nct 127 x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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hopeless-eccentric · 1 year

Text

i think we talk a lot about how frodo’s long-term reaction to the ring is a discussion of trauma, but i think there’s a really interesting conversation to be had about the intergenerational effects of the palantir on the house of stewards

so right out of the gate as a caveat, the palantir has a much less obvious impact on denethor than saruman. yes, it ages him, shows him the most hopeless version of the truth, etc (very alike to what we see with Hurin), but in some of tolkien’s non-lotr writing, it’s implied denethor had more of a handle on it than saruman because as acting ruler of minas tirith, he had a claim to use its palantir, whereas saruman didn’t have that magical right and his own stone rejects him. my point here is that until denethor essentially used the palantir to stare straight into the sun, its effects didn’t rob him of anything but hope and strength. i wanted that on the table because it’s a book detail that tends to get glossed over in adaptation/analysis

that being said, the palantir sits in the background of all the familial trauma going on in the house of stewards in a way that i think is fascinating

so the most obvious root of a lot of the familial trauma going on there is denethor, but it wouldn’t be wholly correct to suggest that the palantir “made” him miserable. we know from the appendices that he spent years jealous and suspicious of those who received his father’s approval (ironically including aragorn), used the palantir for a large amount of his stewardship out of a similar paranoia, and is generally characterized as unhappy throughout his life. it’s also implied a lot of his insecurities, jealousness, etc stems from his issues with his own father, Ecthelion II (tolkien leaves it up to the reader whether he was mistreated or just inherently jealous and insecure). denethor is also characterized as unkind to his family members long before he becomes a father. given the generally feudal social standards expressed for kings in the books, his choice not to remarry after the death of finduilas suggests she meant a great deal to him, but at the same time, some of tolkien’s non-lotr writings suggest his use of the palantir exacerbated (and may have even directly caused) her death,* so even if she made him happy, he wasn’t exactly the world’s most caring or attentive partner

another important implication there is that while yes, denethor’s misery and paranoia already existed (and, importantly, had roots in his family), the palantir fed on it and made it worse to the point of actively harming those around him: his wife and children. the roots of denethor’s own issues don’t have much to do with the palantir, but it explicitly exacerbates the side-effects of these issues to a deadly extent. his problems are already present, but his use of the palantir forcibly pays them forward

one of the things that really ties this all back to intergenerational trauma for me though is that so often, the issues in the house of stewards that tie back to the palantir are SPECIFICALLY familial. it’s not really shown in any of the movies, but until the very end, denethor isn’t an entirely shitty ruler. his one inarguably terrible strategic move is trying to kill faramir, which would rob gondor of any kind of leadership. even when the palantir screws up his brain to the point of actually hurting his people, the primary objective still has to do with family

the final thing that really nails this down as a stand in for intergenerational trauma is the way we see these cycles break. in the pyre of denethor scene, denethor renders the palantir unusable, and only then do we see faramir get a chance to get the hell out of dodge and do better than his dad. immediately after getting engaged, he promises to build eowyn a garden, whereas finduilas’s fatal despair was worsened by the lack of natural beauty in minas tirith. while i do recognize that gardens are symbolic of growth/rebirth/healing at large, they’re not the only symbol in the book with that meaning, and its use seems to be a purposeful juxtaposition against what denethor did wrong for their family

at the end of the day, the palantir of minas tirith symbolizes despair, and some of the horrible ways hopelessness can snowball into genuine harm. i think there are a lot of metaphors you could draw from this. on my first read through the books, i remember texting a friend something along the lines of “the house of stewards are living proof that depression is genetic,” which. i mean. yeah, palantir or no. but the point is, i think the palantir serves as a fantasy vessel for exploring trauma much like the ring does with frodo, and it’s a bit of an under-looked at side of the text that im glad i got to share with you guys. so hope that was interesting

*this detail isn’t mentioned in every retelling of the story, which is one of the unfortunate drawbacks on writing metas on an incredibly vast and incredibly incomplete universe like this one. however, the accounts that include the palantir detail don’t necessarily contradict the ones that don’t. they merely suggest that, while her despair was caused by the shadow over mordor, the palantir brought it to her front door in a particularly traumatizing way. i personally think it makes more sense than the alternative, otherwise citizens of minas tirith would be dropping like flies every time they tried to watch a sunrise

#forgive my lack of proper accents throughout this entire post #also theres the question of to what extent is his use of the palantir even a choice anymore #but thats another question for another day #lotr #denethor #boromir #faramir #lotr meta

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