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hearts4golbach · 10 months ago

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Zombified. (Larry Johnson x Fem!Reader.)

part 8.

co-written by @cupid-isgone

sal and todd woke us up after their shift was over. we all quickly packed our shit and left. I double checked to make sure the gun was still on my hip, and it was.

outside was gloomy. a light drizzle quickly began to soak my hair. I put my hood on.

"scared of a little rain?" Larry teased, tilting his head back and sticking out his tongue to drink the rain or some shit.

"no, I'd prefer to not get sick on top of everything else."

"nerd." sal coughed, attempting to cover up the fact that *he* called *me* a nerd.

"you're the one talking." I cackled obnoxiously.

I hear Sal huff and start a retort before Todd interrupted. "Guys, stop fighting, please," he sighed, exasperated. "That was a big hoard last night, there's likely stragglers still around."

Sal titled his head in a way that probably meant he was sticking his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes in response.

I blinked raindrops from my eyelashes as I glanced around, remembering my nightmare. I had to stay vigilant.

we carefully scouted out the area, heading further into the town. later down the road, we saw light flickering. light!

"guys, there's power!" I tried to speed up, twisting my leg in the process. Larry glanced at me. "sorry."

"there's a low probability that there will be energy in the houses, but we shall try." todd adjusted his glasses.

we walked into the closest house, the door was busted down and there were bloody handprints all over. "okay, not going in there." sal turned around on his heel.

"maybe we should split up in two groups? We can see if any of the houses has power or supplies left." Todd suggested.

"I'll go with y/n," Larry said immediately. Sal rolled his eyes, but left with Todd, anyway.

I smirked at him. "Clingy, much?"

"Oh, shut it. If you hate my company that much, I guess I can go and find Sal instead-" Larry's teasing was cut off as I elbowed him in the side.

"No, no, I *guess* I'll tolerate your presence. For now."

Larry rolled his eyes and walked to the next building. it was a beautiful sage green house, in the front was a dried out garden. I could only imagine how beautiful this neighborhood used to be.

"God, this is disgusting." Larry muttered, touching the black goop (aka, zombie vomit) on the steps.

"ew, what the fuck are you doing?!" I screeched.

he wiggled his finger at me before walking into the house. I followed close behind him, limping. the house was completely untouched.

"wait, wait." my heart began to beat faster with excitement. I flipped the light switch to the living room. it flickered before turning on fully. it filled the room with a low buzz.

"fuck yeah!" Larry cheered, opening his arms. I jumped into them, cheering with him. "let's go find sally and todd!"

We made a mental note of where the house was before going off. It hadn't been too long, and the town wasn't huge, so it shouldn't have been too hard to find them.

We quickly scanned through a few more houses, as well, just in case there were extra weapons or food.

Larry opened the door to one of the buildings, glancing inside, before doing a double take. "Hey, check this out!"

He sounded excited. I stepped forward and he went inside. "Careful," I cautioned.

The inside was layered in dust, and a couple shelves had collapsed (likely due to rot) but otherwise, the place looked near untouched. It was and old record store.

Larry wandered off to the heavy metal session, which wasn't very surprising. I turned the other way and looked for jazz. Jazz had always been my comfort music. I picked up a 'Top Hits!' record and turned towards the listening booth. by now, the door had been broken off. At least the music would spread throughout the store.

I was too late to the party. Larry was already beginning to put his record on.

I rolled my eyes as some rock song I'd never learned the name of came on. Larry was leaning against a wall nearby, already nodding his head to the beat.

"You're gonna attract every zombie within three states if you keep this up." I quickly switched his record for my own.

"What, and jazz won't? It's the same volume."

I tutted mockingly, "Don't you know? Zombies are allergic to jazz."

"Is that so?" Larry straightened up and stepped towards me.

"mhm." I stepped closer to him. Larry wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. I smiled, wrapping my arms around him and swaying to the music. I closed my eyes, savoring the peaceful moment

Our breathing was synced to the music as we gently danced around the small store. We dodged around shelves with light spins and steps. My lips curved into a content smile, the warmth of both the music and Larry's hands enough to keep any negative thoughts at bay.

In that moment, it was just us two. In that little building, it was easy to forget about the choas and destruction outside. We would have to come back to reality soon, but for now this was okay.

I rested my head on his chest, closing my eyes and letting myself enjoy the moment. nothing lasts forever, but I wish it would.

Larry gently rubbed my back as we swayed. he looked down at me with nothing but admiration in his eyes.

"whenever all of this is over, I promise to take you out on a real date. an actual fucking date. we can go to a fancy restaurant, anywhere you want. we could get good food instead of scraps and crackers." Larry whispered, his voice cracking.

"what's wrong?"

he immediately shook his head. "I'm good. just thinking about the future."

I frowned slightly, concerned. "Larry, are-"

But before I could finish my sentence, we heard the door squeak open. Sal was in the doorway, Todd behind him.

"That's kinda gay."

Larry pulled away immediately to argue with his brother without accidentally shoving me with quick and wild gestures. "What does that even mean in this context?? This might be the straightest situation to be in."

"whatever, take a joke." sal rolled his eyes, brushing me off before walking over to turn off the music. "sorry, but we don't have time for romantic shit, right now. we're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and it's almost sun down. you guys can smooch back at the camp."

I rolled my eyes. "whatever, sally face. we found a house, with power and food." I grinned excitedly.

"and blankets!" Larry squeeled like a little girl.

"then let's go!" todd said, walking back out the door.

I quickly packed up the record and took it with us.

I gripped onto Larry's arm tight for support as we walked through the messy streets back to the house we found.

It was getting dark and, while we were still generally lighthearted, there was a sense of unease that came with the night. There were no zombies *yet*, but that could change at any second. We make sure to walk quickly.

We got to the house in one piece and Larry and I smirked as Sal and Todd appreciated our find.

"let's find the safest room to sleep in. Remember, no windows. We can decide night watch shifts later."

Larry rolled his eyes almost fondly, exasperated by Sal's bossiness. He nudged my arm and spoke to me quietly. "Let's go, we should get first dibs on where we sleep."

I grinned and followed him. The future, for the first time in months, looked bright, and I couldn't wait to see how everything turned out.

#fanfiction #ash campbell #fanfic #larry johnson #sal fisher #sally face #zombie apocolypse au #zombified #zombie apocalypse #zombies #zombie

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kingofdemxns · 4 months ago

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Home {Snow King}

King returns home and Snow is finally there.

@lady-snow-flower

Date: July 15

KING

King was never one that thought power solved everything. But it was obvious now it solved nothing.

The house no longer let him in.

He could no longer watch attempts of others, not as long as the Morey was there. As long as Ting-Ting was and the mayor's wife.

There was a little hatred that grew for each of them. Because of them he had to keep his distance.

But that ignored the fact that King himself had made the wrong decision barreling in. Fighting until the amulet broke. In pieces in his pocket as he hid out in the forest trying to figure out what to do.

Any hood was useless with his horns. No matter how much he scrapped at his arms he could not get rid of the soot and charcoal.

King was a powerful demon and he was useless.

Every time someone wander into the forest, branches crunching under their feet King took to the trees hiding out until there passed. All of them pausing at the smell of a potential fire. (Morey and his team had been called out a couple times to double check there was no fire)

But this time the person wasn't the one that he needed to hide from. Not when his family told him Snow was back. Snow was home.

King followed the other home, staring at the door wide open. Welcoming.

Slowly King inched inside, flinching slightly when he passed the threshold. The first time since Prom.

His home a mess.

Poking his head around King grabbed a blanket and covered himself as so just his eyes poked out trying to hide all the scary parts of him. Even though his eyes still glowed and watered when he caught sight of Snow.

“Jie-Jie?” King questioned his voice warbling.

SNOW:

[outfit]

Everything was in pieces.

The dining room was covered in shattered glass. The wallpaper in every room had been ripped off, exposing old, chipped paint. The Rose Room felt empty without all its comfortable seating, only a thin chaise lounge and an armchair in front of a barren fireplace that had not been lit in months. The Hauntley was cold and abandoned, and Snow was the culprit.

She had wandered through the rooms with tears in her eyes, as her own soul came back to her in pieces too. She was also ripped into shreds, drifting like a ghost, still, through these rooms that she had haunted for what felt like another life, or like another death. How many deaths could she handle, she wondered, before she had no pieces of herself left?

It was all so much that she trembled. It was all so much she wanted to sink down on the carpet and become one with the shrapnel.

But she didn’t– because she had people to help her stand.

Gem. Wolf. Sophie. Gregoria. Demi. Belle. Ting-Ting. They came to her and let her laugh and cry, let her fall into their arms, held her and told her that it was okay (it wasn’t okay).

There were people missing though. “Bones? King? Where are they?” she turned around frantically, expecting the tall, slim boy to pounce from the shadows or for Bones to be leaning against the gate. The first answer arrived as a grim expression, passed between her employees, that couldn’t be translated until Ting-Ting and Belle left.

Now it was a few hours later and she was in her broken home, worried–waiting.

When the door opened, she felt the creak of the door in her own tired spine, as if she and the house were still one in the same. Snow darted from the Rose Room, entered the foyer, and saw the tall, limber form she’d been searching for earlier. Her worry became as soft as the blankets he had draped himself with.

“Oh King,” she said softly. She smiled at him and took a few more steps toward him. “You don’t need to hide. It’s me, I promise. It’s really me.”

KING

Tears were already escaping King’s eyes the moment Snow appeared, he had never known the slight difference between Lady Miracle and Snow, but now he wasn’t sure he would ever not see them.

Snow’s warmth and gentle gaze. He would never take that for granted again.

King inched closer wanting nothing more than to hug her.

But it wasn’t her he was worried about. He was worried about him being too scary, too demon to be loved and comforted.

He was just thankful he had gotten the fire under his skin under control so he didn’t burn anyone after they touched him, not again at least.

“I don’t look like me though.” King whispered.

SNOW:

I don’t look like me though.

Snow breathed out, her shoulders falling.

Wolf and Gem had warned her. When they told her the story of King’s transformation, it was like hearing an old fairytale that she could recite for herself. Lady Miracle had witnessed the transformation in progress, after all. And so she could picture the horns, the flash of King’s eyes, the smoke that billowed from his nose and mouth. She knew, as if the memory was a nightmare she had.

But King would never be a nightmare to her, not really. He was still King, even as he tried to hide from her.

But Snow wasn’t going to be scared. She had seen corpses in all stages of decay. She’d mangled John Cunningham’s body with his own bones. She was familiar with the spider webbing of marrow, the smell of bile curdling in the air, the flash of hunger in a vampire’s eyes, the chill of a ghost under her very skin. A demon didn’t scare her, when the demon was her friend.

Snow took another step toward him. “I don’t care what you look like,” she told him gently. “You are King. You are my friend– my family. And I love you, no matter what.” Her voice shook a little and she lifted her arms. “I promise. You won’t scare me.”

KING

King only paused for a moment longer, seeking an answer that only Snow could give. Warmth and open arms and the tears just welled up more.

The hardest thing about this whole Lady Miracle was the fact he had lost his family again, to have her here there was no wall King could have created that would have stayed upright and intact.

His head poked out of the blanket, the horns showing first before he stood infront of Snow, his demon form bare to her, his heart handed to her on a platter and it was only when she didn’t falter that King dove into her arms thankful for his height that he didn’t have to worry about hurting someone with his horns.

Wrapping his arms around her, King cried.

“I missed you so much Jie-Jie. I missed you so much.”

SNOW:

There were the horns.

Surprisingly, they were smaller than Snow had thought they’d be. Or– maybe that was because, despite how tall he was, King had always been the perfect size to wrap up in her arms, like he was a gangly teenage brother who hadn’t figured out how to walk with all that impressive height yet. The horns were like that too– poking out of the blanket, and out of King’s head, like they weren’t quite sure they were ready to be seen by the world yet.

She didn’t look at them longer than a second anyway. Her eyes dropped to King, as his yellow eyes brimmed over with tears. He fell right into her arms and Snow let out a surprised “oh!” at the weight of him.

But she didn’t fall down. She stood strong.

Tears brimmed her eyes too though. She squeezed her eyes shut and then squeezed King too. “King, I’m so so sorry–” she said, her voice shaking. She took a deep breath. Her hand moved up to stroke the back of King’s head, where all that shaggy hair had grown thick, long, and coarse. “But it’s okay, it’s all over now. Everyone’s okay.”

KING

King shook his head, though still hyperaware of his horns, how he could hurt her with just one wrong move.

All powerful, all useless, all dangerous to his loved ones.

“Are you okay though? Everyone else is fine but I want you to be okay.”

SNOW:

“I’m– I’m fine! Don’t worry about me at all, I’m just so happy to see you.”

The answer leapt from her mouth without thinking it through. It was true. It was also a lie. It hadn’t been long enough yet for Snow to settle and take stock of herself, both in body and in soul. If she stopped to think about it, she’d be thrust back to the weeks after her first death when it was obvious her magic wasn’t the same, her reagent collection wasn’t the same– she wasn’t the same.

Something had gone missing then. Was something missing now? Had she once more narrowly escaped a fate meant to take her all the way down the river?

Would she be punished for it?

She’d have plenty of time to think over these questions and to wrack her hands with worry. But right now, she had breath in her lungs and King was hot under her touch. He reeked of smoke, like a fire that had burned too long. She loved it. She loved that she could smell, touch, taste– feel. She was alive.

She reached up and rubbed away his tears, ignoring the fact how it covered her hands in soot. “Really, I’m all better now. Things can… go back to normal.”

Though what did normal look like? They were still far away from that.

KING

King had to worry about Snow, he had been worrying about her for weeks now. And just being wrapped up in her arms didn’t wash away the worry. What if there was a little bit of Lady Miracle left in Snow. What if she tried to do it again.

What if they didn’t notice again.

There could be something wrong and they might not even know.

“I want to help if you need help okay? Anything you need to get it back to normal.” King tilted his head away so he could look at her even as the tears slipped silently down.

SNOW:

Normal– that word again. She was the one who had said it first, but she wished she hadn’t. In the next few days, ‘normal’ would become the latest ghost that would haunt the Hauntley. She’d look around at all the things that needed to be fixed and remember the way things were and she’d wish and wish and wish…

No one could go back in time to change things. That was the lesson Lady Miracle had learned. You had to forgive yourself for how they happened. Then accept whatever new normal came your way.

She took a breath now, pushing the thought away as her brow furrowed at King’s desperate, sweet expression. Despite how contorted his features were, he was still King. “Thank you,” she said and squeezed his hands. “We’ll have to figure out how to do that together. Right now, I’m not entirely sure but– I’m really really happy that you’re here, King.”

KING

King didn't know the next steps. Not while he looked like this. He could only help from the shadows. From where others couldn't see him.

He had to stay clear of the mayor and anyone that would spill his secret to him.

King's new normal would be very different for a while.

“Um I have a letter from Bruce. He had to go home while everything was going on but he didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.” It was tucked away for safekeeping but it had been locked in the Inn with the rest of his things.

SNOW:

A letter from Bruce?

In the next second, King revealed why a letter was necessary and Snow’s breath was stolen from her. Home. There was no second-guessing what ‘home’ meant to Bruce. Home was nowhere on land, not here in Swynlake and not back in Australia. Home meant the churning waves and the depths of the ocean. He had gone– home. Where he was unreachable.

Snow was still grasping having missed so much of life. Six weeks felt like the drop in the well in the grand scheme, but hearing this, it might as well have been a year, or several years. Her knees felt weak.

She didn’t want to cry in front of King though.

“O-oh. Oh, well– thank you,” she uttered, too shocked to say anything else. She forced a smile, and squeezed King’s arms again. “What would I have done without you?”

KING

King didn’t know how true that statement was, he didn’t do that much but who was he to argue, he didn’t want to do that, no he wanted to keep moving forward. To have Snow be alright, for him to be alright.

The only way now to do that was to move forward and to be there so that statement was true.

“You’ll never have to know. I”m glad you’re back.”

#lady snow flower

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night-garden-fic · 1 year ago

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Chapter Three: A Mouthful of Quicksilver

(Read on AO3)

"Just doing my job. Be well."

Chapter Three: A Mouthful of Quicksilver

With a bit of uneasy apprehension, Russell slowly opened the Clinic's heavy door and stepped inside; boots clicking on the polished-clean floors as he moved to stand at the threshold of the examination room. Edward greeted him sight unseen, long hair shifting slightly across his broad shoulders and stately white-coated back.

"Hello, Russell. Go have a seat, and we'll get started in just a bit here."

Somehow, he always seemed to know exactly who was coming, even with his back turned. He'd explained it before, something about how each set of footsteps had a particular cadence, but Russell still found it slightly spooky. To him, it felt like just another way in which Edward knew an uncomfortable amount about the body and its many mysteries.

Seemingly awaiting a response—though not seeming to particularly care if he received one—the doctor continued arranging his tools.

Words and breath momentarily stolen by the chill wind outside, Russell shook the snow off his damp hair, then got to work removing the outer layers of his clothing, folding them neatly and setting them aside. Now down to a thin undershirt, he shivered a bit with the sudden exposure, though the Clinic was kept at a comfortable temperature.

Think healthy thoughts. Stop shaking.

Russell sat down on a small stool and waited in silence, watching the slush on his boots as it melted down to a small puddle. After a long, quiet minute, Edward turned to face him with an amiable smile.

"...So! What brings you in?"

What the hell kind of question is that?

Russell—who had arrived assuming this was all Edward's idea in the first place—didn't look up from the wet floor.

"Well, you said you wanted to see me again in a few days, and seeing as that was a few days ago..."

With that, a fraction of the tension in the room had dissolved. Both men laughed, and Edward shook his head.

"Right, right... Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. Okay, how about this... How are you feeling?"

Russell shrugged, Once again, he wondered why Edward had even asked. This time, it was because he had already begun taking Russell's vitals, and would surely know soon enough.

Why do all this stuff if you can't just tell me how I am yourself? Isn't that the point of coming here?

"I'm all right, I guess. Pretty tired."

Edward placed a cold glass thermometer in Russell's mouth, which filled with a faint, yet sharp taste of disinfectant. It made him crave a shot of clear liquor, nevermind that it wasn't even noon.

"Yeah, you kind of look it... Looking better otherwise, though."

Russell—not wanting a mouth full of quicksilver and broken glass—figured it was best to simply answer with a shrug. After a few minutes, Edward removed the thermometer and examined it carefully.

"...Well, I'm sure it's coming along better than you think. And no fever, so it's safe to say you aren't still sick."

He placed the thermometer back in its glass of strong-smelling fluid, then took a few seconds to scrawl something on his clipboard. After quickly double-checking the notation, Edward unwound his stethoscope and placed the cold chestpiece directly over Russell's anxious heart; positioning it carefully, avoiding all the sensitized patches of scarred tissue. By now, Edward had them as well-memorized as any other aspect of the human anatomy.

Russell waited for what he thought was a few beats, then cleared his throat and clicked his jaw before speaking.

"I know, I know... It just feels like I'm not bouncing back right."

Translating that mysterious internal rhythm into a few cryptic numbers in hasty ink, Edward momentarily withdrew the stethoscope, then placed it on Russell's back. It felt as though each touch sapped a bit of heat from his already chilled body.

"Okay, deep breath... Russell, we've been through this before. Your body just needs a little extra time. If you give it that, you should be fine."

Still quivering reflexively from the touch of the metal, Russell strained to draw air to the very bottom of his lungs, then exhaled it all with a sigh.

"I guess... It just feels never-ending."

Edward frowned slightly.

"Well, you do sound a little scratchier in there than I expected. Still better than last time, though, so I think you're on track."

Russell turned his head into his arm and coughed, wincing a bit in surprise at the reverberation of it, and involuntarily picturing the pages of a water-damaged book; the way they stuck to themselves and disintegrated, and how, even if they could be salvaged, they never quite laid right again.

"...Great. Good to know."

Whatever the results were, it seemed to Russell that Edward took a worrying amount of time to jot them down. After a few tense minutes of this, the doctor finally took his own seat, carefully placing the papers and clipboard on his lap, one hand still delicately gripping his pen.

"Any other problems, while we're here?"

Don't bother. You've been over this. He can't do anything else.

Feeling a bit desperate, and too exhausted to hold his tongue, Russell decided that he would bother.

It's not like it can make anything worse.

"I... Haven't really been sleeping."

He watched Edward's authoritative posture crumple a bit in dismay.

"Russell."

...Okay. That's worse.

Admonished, Russell felt his own posture slacken.

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

Edward straightened up; his tall, solid body reinflating with its typical certainty. A certainty that Russell usually found reassuring, but now could only perceive as a bit patronizing.

"I'm well aware, but I also assume you're well aware that this is why your body might not be repair-"

Russell cut Edward off before he could think to stop himself.

"...Believe me, I know!"

The harsh, almost pained note in his voice caught them both off guard. The clock ticked three times in the thick silence that had fallen between them. Russell dropped his head into his hands. Cautiously, Edward reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I know you know, and I know you're frustrated. I'm just not sure what else there is to do. The only thing you can do is try and learn to rest."

Edward pulled his hand back to the clipboard, back to the realm of the measured and professional, away from the heart and all that roiling heat. Russell sat up slightly; elbows on knees, still averting his eyes. The five-fingered imprint of warmth was fading from his skin, leaving him cold again.

"Yeah, well, that's not going so great... Look, do you think we should just try Lamp Grass again? Just enough for a few days, so I can make up some of the lost sleep and start feeling better?"

Edward shook his head curtly.

"Not a good idea. Your lungs still aren't clear, and we just tapered you off your last course a month ago."

Again, Russell studied the wet floor.

"...Well, maybe I wasn't ready."

Another shake of the head, Edward's dark hair rearranging itself on his clean white coat, like windblown branches across a pallid winter sky.

"No, you were. You started over-relying on it. You always do."

Russell sighed, propping his tired head on one fist.

"...At least I was sleeping."

Edward smiled. Russell found it a bit ill-fitting to the situation, but somehow felt its warmth all the same.

He cares. He just can't do anything for you.

"And you will again, I promise... Anything else, before we wrap things up here?"

Russell shifted uncomfortably on the stool, feeling for that old ache in his spine.

"I've had this thing with my back, but that's pretty much it, I guess."

Wordlessly, Edward turned around to rummage through a rattling drawer, then produced a small glass bottle of pills and presented it to Russell.

"Salicin derivative. Two pills should take care of it. And I'll probably want to check up on you again soon."

Well, at least it's something.

Russell pocketed the bottle.

"Thanks."

Edward smiled yet again, with that same warm calm.

"Just doing my job. Be well."

~*~

Now fully dressed, but still freezing in the chill outdoor air, Russell crunched through the fresh snow, searching his pockets for the tiny bottle of powder-white pills. Once he had it in hand, he uncorked it, tapped three pills into his palm, and knocked them back dry as he walked, passing the Library without a second look.

He decided that, cold as he was, he didn't feel like going straight home.

With the pills on their scratchy way down, he rubbed at the knobby base of his sore neck. His back had been giving him trouble the night before, it was true, but he wasn't quite sure why he'd mentioned it; aside from it feeling, in the moment, like a flailing grasp at some invisible lifeline.

Because his back, for now, was calm.

Meanwhile, Russell's upper body felt painfully misassembled; stiff and out of alignment from too many hours lying on pillows without relaxing and softening into sleep. As he gently gripped each aching joint and muscle, he thought of them—almost involuntarily—in all of Edward's words. Strange, dark words. Ornate and floridly tongue-bending as an old mage's incantation.

Cervical. Splenius. Thoracic. Scapula. Trapezius.

Feeling along those tortured structures, reciting their names in his mind as though he could speak the pain out of existence, Russell remembered the surplus medical texts that Edward had donated to the Library, shortly after they met.

They were a fine addition to the collection, and one that Russell found strangely compelling as he devoured them one after another; reading late into the night, the guttering candle flame causing the red-inked muscles and organs to twitch and shudder as though they'd come to life on the page. Then the feeling—likely imagined—of his own viscera twitching in recognition of itself. But, as captivated as he was in those breathless hours, Russell had never planned to revisit the texts, as they gave him an uneasy feeling.

For one thing, he always felt the body rather sinister and slimy; much preferring the terrain of the mind, no matter how daunting his own could seem at times. For another, there was something unseemly in the very act of breaking all that wet, vital chaos into tidy component parts.

Though, he supposed, it explained a lot about how Edward thought.

As if I could ever explain how he thinks...

When Russell first arrived in Kardia, he and Edward had clicked almost instantly.

It helped that the Library was next door to the Clinic, and that their mutual interest in scholarly pursuits gave them a good deal of common ground; their proximity and shared interests uniting them so quickly that it took a while for either man to realize that he'd just made a very good friend. Or, perhaps, they just hadn't been conditioned to expect a friendship to form at all. Neither of them had a particularly robust history in that area, so they found themselves playing companionship by ear.

At first, it was easy.

It was with great joy that Russell and Edward discovered they could speak tirelessly for hours; of ideas, of stories, of an eclectic mix of trivia and facts. And, with greater joy still, they realized they were equally content to read together in effortless silence, broken only by the occasional clearing of a throat and recitation of a passage. Of course, their many conversations eventually made it apparent that they had very different minds. But their differences were still outweighed by their commonalities, so the ease—more or less—remained.

Until, that is, it slowly became obvious that they had deeper, more painful things in common.

Edward didn't seem to know how to speak of such things, unless he could couch them in the abstract, put each piece under a microscope until it was unrecognizable as part of himself. Which suited Russell just fine, as he himself could never figure out how to talk about those things at all, at least not while maintaining any kind of composure. But, beneath this mutual tolerance, there always simmered some desire to know.

To reach across that last untraversable gap that remained, bearing one simple message: "We're the same. You don't have to hide."

But hiding was all either of them had ever known, so the two wounded scholars grew to share both an odd intimacy and an odd distance; ever speaking around a series of sinister lacunas and omissions.

And this odd friendship, as one might expect, was made all the odder by the occasional clinic visit.

Within those sterile confines, Edward sometimes pulled so far back that Russell wondered if they even really knew each other at all. Rationally, he knew it was just professionalism, but he still sometimes wondered where their friendship went when he stepped through that heavy, groaning door. And, for that matter, where it returned from when Edward swept into the Library barely a day later, eager to discuss Russell's latest recommendations.

If Russell didn't know better, he'd swear Edward was talking to two completely different men.

It feels like being taken apart.

(Does he even know it hurts?)

But if it wasn't for him... And Sabrina...

Russell brightened a bit, his frustrating thoughts of where he'd been giving way to comforting thoughts of where he was going.

Sabrina will ease my mind.

Sabrina will make me laugh.

Sabrina might fix this blasted neck.

He took care on the icy steps down to the beach, then slogged through the wet sand until he was finally at her door, where he didn't even have to knock twice before Sabrina flung it open, seemingly as eager for company as he was.

"Russell! Come in, come in..."

She didn't really need to tell him, because she practically pulled him across the threshold herself. Russell sank into the embrace; into the familiar scent of her dusky hair, somehow ocean-salty in all seasons.

"Hey, Sabrina..."

She brushed away the snow that had collected on his shoulders, and quickly pressed a hand to his flushed cheek.

"Gods, you're freezing... Go sit by the woodstove and get warm."

Once again, Russell didn't really need to be told. The walk to the beach was short, but he'd shivered the whole way there; having decided against long underwear that morning, back when he thought he was just stepping next door.

Back when I thought a doctor might have whatever the hell I need.

As he shed his outer clothes for the second time, Russell tried to clear his mind of stethoscopes and quicksilver.

The running tally of my beating heart. My insides, drawn up in red ink.

(Leave it alone.)

He laid the garments to dry on the back of an old chair that he assumed—judging by the untidy swath of woolen things in various sizes, piled nearly a foot high—was designated for this specific purpose. Then he sank to the floor, letting the heat blast his bare arms until the trembling gradually stopped.

Sabrina grabbed a freshly laundered but somewhat ratty blanket from the nearby sofa, threw it over Russell's shoulders, and went to rummage around in the kitchen.

"Let's see what all we have here... Did you eat lunch yet?"

Russell adjusted the blanket, wrapping himself more tightly.

"No... I was actually getting a checkup before I decided to stop in."

He decided against mentioning that he hadn't really had breakfast, either. It had taken him a long time to get going in the morning, so he made do with a few bites of cold stir-fry, eaten in front of the open refrigerator.

"...Oh? Are you feeling better? What'd Ed say?"

Nothing I didn't already know.

"Not much. Just that I'm doing fine, I guess."

Sabrina produced a few mismatched bowls, which Russell supposed were an assortment of cold leftovers on which she would work some kind of strange magic.

"Well, that's good to hear... You're certainly looking a lot better than I last saw you."

Busy as she was with her blissful re-newlywed life, Sabrina had made time to bring Russell a few meals while he was indisposed, and otherwise mostly subsisting on cold medicine, and dusty tepid water from a glass on his headboard. If nothing else, she was the kind of person who came through for you, and food typically factored in to how she accomplished this.

Today, of course, was no exception. He watched her swish around the kitchen, suddenly more aware of his own hunger than he'd been in days.

"Thanks... Haven't been sleeping so hot, though."

Suddenly, he felt like he could go to sleep right then. Something in the warmth of the stove, and the gentle, domestic din of another person going about their business.

(You remember this, don't you?)

But as soon as Russell thought to close his eyes and doze, Sabrina had taken her place beside him. She gently placed a large wooden tray, stained from years of use in the Shack's restaurant, on the floor between them. It held two plates, each with a few salmon rice balls and a heap of salad, and two cups of fragrant, steaming tea.

Sabrina carefully lifted her cup and gently blew, casting ripples on the tea's dark surface. It made him ache, how every part of her was somehow about the sea.

"That's too bad... Ed have any ideas for you there?"

Russell sighed, rearranging the salad on his plate. The greens were dewy and crisp, grown in the loamy soil of a cave where spring reigned year-round.

"Apparently, I need to 'learn to rest.'"

He winced at the sardonic edge in his voice, which hadn't been entirely intentional. Sabrina chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged.

"...Well, he's not wrong. You're pretty tightly-wound."

It took a few bites of rice for Russell to realize exactly how hungry he was, and a few more to make his stomach stop twisting.

He began, if only slightly, to unwind.

"I know he's not wrong, but I don't know what he expects... We've known each other for years by now. I can't even count how many times we've had that same conversation."

Suddenly, Russell felt the frustration rising again in his throat.

Glass, blood, quicksilver.

(The warm impression of a hand.)

He took another bite of his lunch, and it seemed to fight him on the way down.

Sabrina, cool as the ocean floor, sipped at her tea.

"I think he just expects you to feel better. Probably wouldn't hurt you to expect the same."

Russell thought it sounded like something Edward would say. But somehow, it sounded less dismissive coming from her.

Even so, he couldn't quite shake his glum mood.

"...Not sure how much it helps me, either."

The topic, like Russell himself, was exhausted, and the pair finished their meal in silence. He took his last few sips of tea, then—rather conspicuously—began attempting to crack his neck. Sabrina quickly took notice.

"...You okay?"

Russell grimaced slightly.

"Yeah. Just been a little sore."

As always, that was all he had to say.

Almost instantly, and with the sort of gentle familiarity that had never truly left their interactions, Sabrina had positioned herself behind him, and began working on his shoulders and neck. Russell closed his eyes, trying to give himself over to the comforting sensation as she did her best to keep the conversation going.

"So, what's new with you lately?"

Nothing I would want to make your business.

"Oh, not all that much... Like I said, I saw Ed, and that's about all. What about you? Doing anything special for your birthday?"

Sabrina was intently focused on working out a tight, snarled knot at the crook of Russell's neck.

"Neumann's actually taking me north for two nights... We're going to try ice fishing!"

Right. Neumann.

Russell found it difficult to fully relax, knowing he could decide to swing by the house and walk in on them.

"Well, I hope you have fun. It certainly sounds interesting."

I also hope he doesn't decide to eat lunch at home today.

It had happened a few times before, and was as awkward as one might expect; Sabrina getting indignant, "he's still my friend, and he hurts," then Neumann getting protective, "let's not let him steal you from me a second time!"

Inevitably, this odd play-fighting gave way to the two of them cheerfully flirting, while Russell—still aching—sat around like an old coat carelessly tossed on the floor. An awful, almost queasy feeling; not the slimy jealousy of coming up second-best, but rather just wanting what she had, with someone.

(Anyone.)

What he really wanted to explain, in those strange moments, was that Neumann didn't need to worry, that Sabrina was just a physical person. In life as a whole, and with her friends.

Though, Russell had gotten the idea that he already knew, and that this—in combination with that whole business about the Chalice—was what had originally driven them apart.

Just as it drove us together.

Under the warmth of Sabrina's hands, Russell remembered how he felt when he first arrived in Kardia; his shriveled heart like a locked box, thrown to the bottom of a well. He barely remembered how to be a person, let alone a proper lover, or a proper friend.

To put a fine point on it, I was dead below the waist, too.

It did not occur to him, as he was then, that it could be any other way.

That is, until one strange-magic night somehow changed everything.

Walking home from one of their frequent trips to the Pub, Russell and Sabrina both pleasantly drunk on red wine and the dazzling glow of a full late-summer moon...

(Don't think about it. It just hurts now.)

Everything hurts these days. Might as well think about something pleasant.

...That was the night, of course, that she impulsively kissed him on the mouth. No small peck, but full and lusty, the velvet tip of her tongue gently parting his lips.

It had lasted less than a second, but that was all it took for his sluggish veins to suddenly flush with red, living blood. Before he knew it, they were under the pier, naked and frantic, making the most of the last warm night of the season.

I damn near cried for joy.

Back in the wintery present, as Sabrina's hands moved south to grip his upper arms, Russell began to remember something else. Another moment of playful impulse, another world-shaking rush of heat and life.

Never forget, she was the first to bind you.

A lazy afternoon, a length of rope originally destined for a homemade fishing net. Sabrina organizing supplies while Russell watched; feeling energetic and a little silly, the way he often did around her. He knew his carrying on was disturbing her work, but neither of them seemed to particularly care, despite some mock protests on her end.

It was all part of whatever game they were playing.

Eventually, through a faint mist of laughter like the sparkling spray of the sea, those fateful words slipped out.

"Russell, I will tie you to that chair!"

He intimated that he wouldn't mind, and something in the air instantly shifted.

Even through the suddenly charged atmosphere, the playful mood of that long-ago afternoon still carried them along, sunny and weightless as the ropes wound around his limbs, secure and comfortably snug. With Russell safely fastened, and quiet at last, Sabrina returned to her tasks.

He waited patiently for half an hour, hair standing on end, belly quivering and pulsing with that vital, living heat. And, when she finally returned her attentions to him, well...

I finished in less than a minute.

Russell was snapped back to the moment by the touch of a soft hand on his burning cheek.

"...What on Earth are you thinking about, blushing like that?"

Sabrina laughed, a sound as soft and gentle as her fingers. Russell joined in with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh... I guess I finally got warmed up, is all."

~*~

Though the visit with Sabrina had briefly cheered him, Russell felt lonelier than ever now that he had found himself back out in the cold.

The harsh wind chilled skin that had just minutes ago felt so warm beneath her kind hands, and his bones began to ache all over again. The briefness of her presence only amplified the sting of her absence; the memory of that silly afternoon with the ropes bringing with it memories of countless other afternoons, other mornings, other long black-velvet nights.

Russell was blushing all over again, the light flurries of snow melting on contact with his flushed face and trickling down his collar.

Almost against his will, he recalled the strength and steadiness of Sabrina's lovely bronzed hands as she pressed him into the mattress and claimed him for her own. The way the taut swimmer's muscles of her back would glide and undulate hypnotically just under the smooth skin. Her tanlines, and the way his hands creased the soft swell of her hips as she straddled him. The taste of her as she gripped his head firmly between those plush, powerful thighs...

...Okay, you need to calm the hell down.

As Russell passed the Inn, he contemplated going inside, but ultimately decided against it and kept walking. Lady Ann was probably working, and wouldn't appreciate him wandering in like a vagrant in the middle of the day. Besides, he didn't want to appear desperate, even if he undeniably was. And he was too divided; too filled with longing for another lover to give his Lady the unbroken devotion she relished and deserved.

(Or you can stop in the Pub. Just one drink. Just to warm up.)

Russell picked up his pace as he passed Spring Rabbit, which had just opened for the day, and looked invitingly dark and cozy. He told himself that, though he had taken the morning off to accommodate his checkup, it was still the middle of the workday. And, while he was undeniably a bit down, he wasn't that down; not step-out-to-drink-his-lunch down, with all its attendant chaos.

(Not yet. Not again.)

He would just have to suck it up and try to get warm on his own.

With a dejected sigh, Russell pressed his icy hands to the rosy heat of his cheeks.

That, too, reminded him of Sabrina; of a now-distant night, just a week or two before they became lovers. They had been sitting on the floor of the Shack, listening to records on Sabrina's phonograph as their children slept soundly upstairs. To all appearances, it had been quite the lovely evening.

Except, of course, for the fact that Russell hadn't slept more than six hours in as many days.

Around midnight, without even realizing it, he finally cracked.

He wasn't sure what exactly he said. But apparently, it made so little sense that Sabrina's first instinct was to check if he was running a fever; gently pressing her cool palms against his neck and cheeks. Sabrina, of course, was constantly touching her friends; for light guidance, or in good-natured jest. But this was only the second or third time that she had touched Russell so tenderly, and something about it broke him completely.

To the surprise of both of them, he immediately burst into tears.

As it turned out, Russell wasn't feeling feverish, but Sabrina treated him almost as though he was; tucking him in on the sofa with a warm blanket and a cold glass of water, playing with his hair and talking in soft tones about nothing of consequence until he finally fell asleep. It was all very startling—not to mention embarrassing—but, at that point in his life, it was exactly what he needed to rally and begin building himself up.

He didn't want to admit that he might need something like that again.

Russell sniffed weakly, eyes and nose stinging with the frigid air and incipient tears.

He was approaching the Clinic, where this confusing downer of a day had begun.

You only started getting checkups because of her, remember?

In the early days of their relationship, Sabrina was always worried about something or other; about Russell's insomnia, or his headaches, or his thinness, or his touchy stomach, or his lethargy, or his generally dismal mood. Even though the idea repelled him, she very much wanted him to get checked out. Edward was a notably gentle practitioner, and—Sabrina was quick to mention—a trusted friend besides. There was nothing, she insisted soothingly, for Russell to be frightened of.

Russell could never quite make her understand that it wasn't exactly fear that kept him away. He was just of the belief that he had endured quite enough medical poking and prodding for one lifetime; mostly at the hands of hurried military doctors, men in the business of determining who was healthy enough to die. Whatever relief might be waiting on the other side couldn't possibly be worth submitting himself to yet more violation.

It was obvious enough that all the hard living he had endured in the course of those long, bloody years had taken something of a toll on his constitution, but Russell wasn't sure if there was even anything to be done for it, and much preferred dealing with his own problems as they arose.

But, in the end, he did have to admit he was having an increasingly hard time reading, and figured there was no harm in just getting his eyes checked.

And then you had to go and faint.

Drawing up his collar against the chill, Russell shivered with embarrassment as much as cold. On that fateful afternoon, he hadn't even been out long enough to hit the floor. But the helplessness and lack of control were still the stuff of his literal nightmares; especially when Edward laid him down on the bed and insisted on performing a full physical, with Russell lacking the strength to properly consent or forbid.

Then the initial terror passed, and he realized that it was, perhaps, not the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Edward really was, as Sabrina had assured, incredibly gentle. He seemed to sense Russell's apprehension, and know exactly how to proceed; with a soft voice and light hands, never touching without asking first or moving ahead without explaining what he was doing. And—most novel of all—he actually seemed concerned about his health. Edward didn't care if Russell was combat-ready. He wanted only for him to be well, as any good friend would.

But that was then, wasn't it?

Yes, that was then. Before the years of endless problems with no clear solution drove a wedge between them, and Edward—at least in the doctor-patient aspect of their relationship—began to check out.

Blood, glass, quicksilver.

Russell felt the jagged shards rising in his throat again, but set his face in a benign smile as he stepped into the Library.

"Hey... You two been holding down the fort okay?"

Cecilia, who was sprawled front-down on the floor and browsing a thick illustrated bestiary, nodded cheerfully. Tori looked up from the stack of books she'd been shelving with a slight start.

"It's b-been a slow morning... Are... Are y-you all right, sir? W-what did Ed say?"

"Try and learn to rest."

"Be well."

Russell cleared his throat.

"That I still might need to take it a little easy, but I'm doing all right."

Tori nodded understandingly.

"It-it's fine if you want to take the rest of the day off t-to relax upstairs... I've b-been running things all day already, so..."

With a yawn and a stretch, Russell sank into his desk chair.

"No... No. I've been wanting to get back to work all day."

Tori smiled shyly at Russell, then went back to shelving. Russell closed his eyes for a moment—just to collect himself—then took a long, aimless look around the Library, letting its familiarity soothe his tired, aching mind.

His books surrounded him like a fortress of ideas. Cecilia was still contentedly lost in her world of fascinating creatures. Tori hummed to herself as she shelved; a little off-key, but merry and calming nonetheless. The only slightly out-of-place element was Lynette, and even she had become a familiar fixture of late, taking refuge in the Library whenever the weather got too damp or chilly to abide her drafty cabin.

You know that isn't the only reason.

Actually, Russell didn't know.

But he had seen enough to be a little suspicious.

Lynette watched everyone in Kardia with an intent curiosity that, when one gave it some thought, made a lot of sense. The way people led their lives in this scruffy little beach town was a far cry from what she must have been accustomed to, and Edward confessed to having done similar before he fully settled into the quiet village life.

But the way she sometimes stared at Russell was a little different.

It reminded him of nothing so much as the way he used to catch Tori looking at him, before she had gotten over that mortifying girlhood crush. And yet, it was something else entirely, because Lynette's unspoken longings were actually age-appropriate. It made him entertain things he didn't necessarily want to consider.

She's a little like Sabrina, isn't she?

No, not exactly. But she cut a similar figure at times; with her choppy bobbed hair, and her general build, which was small-framed and trim but surprisingly solid and muscular. Perhaps her body would feel similar in his arms, but her personality was completely different, so he couldn't imagine any farther than that.

Curious?

Russell blinked hard and faced the window, telling himself that he wasn't.

(She's so commanding, there's a cold fire in that eye of hers, she's probably been drilled in so many holds and restraints, I wish I knew what her teeth were like.)

A light snow was still falling outside, and Russell tried to focus on the slow spin of the drifting flakes.

If she likes you as much as you think, it would be so easy.

(You wouldn't have to sleep alone.)

Russell grimaced. He didn't want to be having these thoughts, and honestly didn't even want to be thinking at all. Lynette was a near-stranger, and he knew he wouldn't have entertained this idea even in the most abstract sense if he hadn't been feeling quite so pathetically lonely.

...You are lonely, aren't you?

He was. But right then, it was Sabrina in particular that he was lonely for, and Russell wasn't stupid enough to think he could solve that by laying down with just anyone. And, to him, Lynette was just anyone. The closest thing they'd ever had to a conversation was the brief exchange over that uncanny illustration.

She could be anyone, but she's still someone.

(I need someone.)

Russell rubbed his tired eyes until he saw colors, then wearily stood from his chair.

"Hey, Tori... I had kind of a long morning, and I didn't sleep much last night, so I might go upstairs and take a nap."

The shy girl nodded, a soft look of understanding in her wide blue eyes.

"That's f-fine, sir."

Without another word, Russell dragged himself upstairs, collapsing on the bed without even bothering to pull back the blankets. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, trying to keep the dreary grey light around him from invading his brain.

(Someone. Anyone.)

#rune factory #rune factory 1 #rf1 russell

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply, brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Howl - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Fic Content Warnings: Blood, injury, suggestive content, alcohol use

Characters: All

Pairing: Analogical, background Moceit because apparently I can't help myself

Add'l Notes: dw if you don't know what a loup-garou is or how the lore works; all is explained in the story / Have I ever been to Louisiana? No 💕Did I write an entire story set in rural-ish Cajun Louisiana anyway because I hate myself? Yes 💕 / If you're from Louisiana and noticed any screw-ups, pls correct me so I can fix it

It also comes with a playlist! For ambience, not necessarily for the lyrics

Summary:

Two things happen to Virgil Landry on Halloween:

1) Logan Doucet, his longtime friend and slightly-less-longtime crush, asks him out

2) He becomes cursed to spend his nights as a half-man, half-wolf monster: a loup-garou

Despite his new affliction, Virgil strives for normalcy all the way up until he can't anymore and everything falls apart.

The floorboards creaked in their familiar pattern as Virgil paced over them, his feet sliding around awkwardly in his over-the-knee boots. He was supposed to meet Logan alone in an hour, an hour! His heart thumped painfully under his ribs. What did Logan want?

Virgil yanked his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message for the 85th time, ignoring a few new messages in his assorted group chats:

Logan: If it's not inconvenient, could you meet me early at the Plaza tonight? Maybe 6:30?

Virgil: yeah sure

Virgil: everything OK?

Logan: Yes :-)

What did it mean? Was everything okay? Or was Logan just lying to make him feel better? Because if so, it wasn't working. Virgil ran his hands through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup. It had taken him an hour and a half to perfect his vampire makeup in the mirror and he didn't want to risk messing it up.

With a sigh that turned into a groan, Virgil threw himself down on his couch. It made the walls rattle, nearly displacing a few trinkets on his crappy, rickety shelves. He heard a tell-tale scrape above his head and knew that his favorite painting had gone crooked again. God, this place was a wreck-- Just like Virgil. He made a mental note to ask Patton for help patching up the leaky roof. It was as good a time as any, as they were well out of rainy season, but it did seem a little rude. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Patton, I know carpentry is literally what you do for a living, but could you help me for free since I'm broke and sad? Thanks, bud. Yeah, right. He sighed again and tugged at his medallion, a rusted old thing with a glass gem in the center. He had picked it up from a thrift store months earlier in anticipation of Halloween, but maybe he should have made some effort to restore it. It smelled strongly of rust and decay and felt terrible between his fingers, all oily and sticky.

So far, the only saving grace of the day was that it wasn't raining now. Virgil had spent his workday in silent anxiety, eyeing the storm clouds through the shop window and rubbing a small piece of sunstone between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed to have worked, as the clouds had dispersed a little and allowed the watery light of the autumn sun to peek through.

Virgil's phone lit up with a few more messages in his group chats: Roman having hysterics over some detail of his costume, Janus and Remus discussing how to avoid the small army of toddlers that always ran rampant at the Halloween parade. Virgil ignored them all. He was in no mood to be friendly, would probably snap at them. Logan hadn't said anything since his message to Virgil, which he had presumably sent on his lunch break. The question haunted Virgil, that great unknown lurking behind him and instilling a fear that no ghost ever could: What did Logan want?

Virgil set his phone down and leaned forward, heaving a sigh that turned into a yawn. Great. Whatever. That meant he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his breathing already irregular. Damn it, Logan knew better than to leave him hanging like this! They'd known each other for so long and he'd always been more perceptive to Virgil's needs than the others.

Especially lately… They'd been spending more time alone, and Virgil couldn't deny the sweet, warm giddiness that enveloped him every time they were alone together. First meetings were always his favorite, seeing Logan's face light up with a smile. He hadn't dared to think that Logan might feel the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his fantasies on a leash. Worst-case scenarios and best-case scenarios dueled in his head: Logan kissing him, Logan telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Logan confessing, Logan announcing that he had some incurable disease.

Virgil grabbed his phone and jumped to his feet. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't sit here and torture himself. He would just leave now. He would rather arrive freakishly early than face another minute of this self-inflicted torment

He double and triple checked he had his wallet and his plastic fangs, which he

was planning on putting on later. The medallion bounced against his exposed chest as he walked and he wondered briefly if it might be more trouble than it was worth. He could always swap it out for one of his pendants, maybe amethyst to calm his nerves. But it looked so good against his skin, falling perfectly in the deep V of his flowy white poet shirt. Unlike his other necklaces, it screamed vampire. And Janus would tease him if he caught Virgil wearing a subpar costume, and then Roman would join in, and Remus, and it would turn into a whole thing . He could wear the stupid medallion for one night.

Virgil regretted this decision as soon as he got his moped going. Even at its 30 mph crawl, the heavy necklace bounced against his chest in a maddening rhythm. At least it was distracting. Every time he started to worry about Logan, the erratic tap-tap-tap of cold metal on his chest brought him back to Earth.

It was a long ride into town down a windy country road. He hugged the shoulder as best as he could despite the lack of traffic; Virgil's neighbors were few, but they all liked to take corners at frighteningly high speeds. The one person who did drive by honked at him and flashed their lights. Virgil's heart dropped and he nearly flipped them off before he realized that they liked his costume. It occurred to him then that he must look pretty absurd: A vampire riding a purple moped, cape fluttering on the wind.

Upon reaching the Plaza, Virgil did a few laps around downtown, smiling at the spiderwebs decorating Vaillant City Hall. Another lap revealed that empty parking spots were already becoming scarce, so Virgil pulled into one and checked his phone. Nothing from Logan. Just more hysterics from Roman, and Patton's best attempts at comfort. Virgil rolled his eyes. Maybe Roman did need some tough love. He scanned through the messages to orient himself, to make sure he didn't look dumb, and then typed out his reply.

Virgil: look, Prince Charming. 2 rolls of body glitter is more than enough. Stop freaking out

Roman: That's DOCTOR Prince Charming to you

Virgil: :*

He put his phone away, tucked his keys in his pocket, and forced himself to walk slowly toward the Plaza. He was still excruciatingly early, but maybe he could pop into a bar or grab a coffee or even swing by his work-- Oh.

There, standing by the reflecting pool with his hands in his pockets, was Logan. Virgil smiled despite his nerves and sped up. Leave it to Logan to somehow be earlier than early.

"Hey, Data," Virgil said once he was in earshot.

Logan's face lit up, and even the yellow contacts he was wearing couldn't mask the fondness in his face. "Evening, Virge," he said. His smile dropped too quickly and he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil surveyed all this with dread. Was he reading too much into it? Most definitely. Could he stop? No way.

"Everything okay?" Virgil asked, tugging at his medallion and turning his nervous gaze upon the placid waters of the reflecting pool. Great. Now he had two awesome reasons to be nervous. It was an old Vaillant legend that anyone who disturbed the waters of the pool would be cursed, and Virgil did not mess with curses. He usually took pains to avoid the Plaza, even if it meant he had to take the long way to work.

"Yes, Virgil," Logan said in a voice that was far too breathy. He cleared his throat. "As you know, we have been friends for a long time. I…" He paused, blinked. "I forgot what I was going to say."

"Jeeze, Lo," Virgil tried to tease. "You're making me nervous."

"But I--" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Virgil. I had prepared something far more eloquent than what I am about to say, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Forgive me if this comes across as confusing."

"All good," Virgil said, making only a minimal effort to hide his confusion. The medallion was cold and oily under his fingertips, but he couldn't stop messing with it, tugging at it, rattling the chain. He needed some outlet for all this nervous energy.

"We've been spending more time alone together and I

thought-- I wanted--" Logan touched his face and Virgil realized a second later he had tried to push up his glasses, which he wasn't wearing. Oh, how cute. "Virgil, I would like to go steady with you."

A rush of vertigo smacked into Virgil with such force that he had to take a step back just to keep his balance. "Go steady?" he heard himself say. "Like-- Like, boyfriends?"

"If you are amenable to that," Logan said, furiously running his fingers over the piping on his uniform. "If not, I-- We can pretend this never--"

"Yes," Virgil interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. Logan, I do want that."

"Oh," said Logan, his face breaking into a smile. "Good."

Virgil clenched his fist around the medallion wondering if it was too soon to ask for a kiss. He took a breath and felt something give with a quiet snap. The broken chain snaked along his neck, dragged down by the weight of the pendant. Virgil watched in silent agony as the necklace landed in the water of the reflecting pool with a quiet splash. "Shit."

"Allow me," said Logan, already in motion.

"No!" Virgil caught his hand and held it. "The curse." He realized what he had done and let go of Logan's hand.

"I don't believe in such things, Virgil, but if it's important to you, then I'll leave it."

"Thank you." Virgil stared down at the water and sighed through his nose. He'd already disturbed the water. Would it be better to leave the necklace or take it out? Littering seemed more disrespectful, he supposed. So he bent and grabbed the necklace before he could change his mind. "I'll, uh, de-curse-ify myself later."

Logan nodded, looking preoccupied. "Let me know if I can help. I might be able to repair the chain."

"Actually," said Virgil, stuffing the wet necklace into his pocket, "I was wondering if maybe, um…"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please do."

Virgil closed his eyes so he wouldn't get weirded out by Logan's contacts. He had been expecting a short kiss, sweet and chaste, but Logan's hand tightened in the loose fabric of Virgil's poet shirt and his teeth grazed Virgil's bottom lip. Fuck propriety, then; the Plaza was still fairly empty. Virgil raised a hand to grab a fistful of Logan's hair and ran his tongue along the edge of Logan's lip.

They were interrupted by a wolf whistle and golf claps. "I'll be damned." Crap. Why did it have to be Janus? He was never going to let Virgil live this down.

Virgil pulled away so fast it made pain shoot through his neck. He exhaled sharply and covered the area with his hand for all the good it would do, turning to face Janus with a blush blooming on his cheeks. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking Janus up and down. Janus had always been unnecessarily private about things that really didn't matter. He had evaded all of Virgil's attempts to guess his costume, and now presented wearing an old-fashioned suit including top hat, gloves, and cane.

"Don't change the subject," said Janus, dismissing Virgil with a wave.

In true vampire fashion, Virgil snarled and bared his teeth, then remembered something. "Oh, shit, my fangs!" He dug in his pocket for them, leaving Janus to do… whatever he was going to do.

"Logan, I presume?" Janus asked. Virgil stopped in the process of sticking on one tooth, heart hammering again. Janus and Logan had never met, and they could both be… a bit much in their own ways.

Logan nodded. "Logan Doucet." He held out his hand for a shake.

Janus took it. "Thank God you didn't bother to paint your face, else Virgil would have more than smudged lipstick to contend with. You've got some on your mouth, by the way."

"Thank you," Logan said stiffly. He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his face. "Nice to meet you, Professor Moriarty."

Virgil's eyes darted back to Janus, who smiled. "When I'm not acting as the Napoleon of Crime, you can call me Janus. Janus Bellefontaine."

"Where's Remus?" Virgil interjected, looking around. "Didn't he ride with you?"

"He got waylaid by some angry mothers because his costume made their kids cry," Janus said, nonchalantly running a

fingertip over the brim of his hat. "He'll be along." To Logan, he said, "Virgil tells me you're an accountant."

"Yes," said Logan.

"And you haven't killed yourself yet, so I assume you must like it."

Virgil busied himself sticking his fangs onto his canines so he wouldn't worry about the conversation at hand. A sideways glance at Logan revealed that he seemed to find the comment amusing, thank God . "I've always been good with numbers. People, less so."

"Never would have guessed," Janus said, and Virgil didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling that crooked, tight-lipped smile that might have been genuine or might have been mocking. Asshole. "Well, if you have any rich clients, send them my way, won't you? I sell nice suits to dumb men with low self-esteem and too much money and I'm always on the lookout for another rube to swindle."

"If the suits are any good, I'd be happy to," Logan said.

Satisfied that his fangs were in properly, Virgil's attention shifted suddenly to the cold, wet medallion in his pocket. Right. He was cursed. Despite his interest in the occult and the supernatural, Virgil didn't have much experience with curses. His friends weren't really the type to play around with magic (well, maybe Janus, maybe- maybe Roman) and he wasn't the kind of guy who made enemies. No one had ever cursed him before. How soon would this one take effect? Should he go home and come back? Should he hop into the bayou, makeup be damned? Did bayous even count as running water?

He was so caught up in his panic spiral that the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders made him jump. "Fuck!"

To his surprise it was Roman, not Remus, who laughed from somewhere behind him. "What, are Logan and Janus boring you?"

Virgil looked up and flinched again. While Roman looked relatively normal in his glittery Doctor Frank-n-Furter costume, Remus, who was lurking just behind his brother, was a horrorshow of fur and face paint and fake blood. "Um…" He shook himself and noticed Patton standing a ways off, peering at Remus. Distracted, he went to introduce Patton to Remus and Janus only to learn that he and Roman had run into Remus on their way over and rescued him from a brigade of shouty young mothers.

"He's Macavity," Patton said in a tone like he was pronouncing the death of the family goldfish.

"The other Napoleon of Crime," Janus agreed. "And you are?"

"Patton Haydel!"

A pause. "I gathered that. " Janus gestured at Patton's costume, which he had also kept a secret. Virgil had been staring at it as well, trying to figure it out. Patton was wearing what appeared to be a headless bear costume, round glasses, and what might have been a cowboy hat, though Virgil wasn't 100% sure. "What are you?"

"You have to guess!" Patton said, extending his arms and backing up so everyone could get a good look at him.

Virgil stared at him, running his tongue over the edges of his plastic fangs. "I got nothin'."

Logan took a sideways step and tapped Virgil's hand. Virgil nodded, and Logan interlaced their fingers as casually as he might clock in for work. "He's Teddy Bear Roosevelt."

They all groaned. "Good work, Pat," Virgil said begrudgingly.

"You have a big wet spot on your crotch," Remus pronounced, pointing at Virgil.

Janus raised his eyebrows, turning to Virgil with undisguised schadenfreude, but Logan stepped in before anyone could say anything. "It's water. He dropped his necklace in the reflecting pool."

"Well," said Patton, "that's not good."

"You dropped something in the reflecting pool and didn't immediately run for the nearest source of running water?" Janus asked. He looked from Virgil to Logan, then to their intertwined fingers and grinned. "Ah. More pressing matters at hand?"

"Maybe it's not too late," Roman said, drumming his acrylic nails against his thigh. "We can still dump him in the bayou."

"There's alligators in there!" Virgil said. "Fuck that. You know my house is plastered with wards. I'm sure I can make it through one evening."

"Your funeral," said Remus, leering. "Let me know if your dick falls

off.

Despite his friends' concern, Virgil had a wonderful evening. Logan stuck close the whole night through, and they even snuck a few kisses here and there like infatuated teenagers. Each one sent a lightning thrill down Virgil's spine and made him want a dozen more. His friends noticed in turns and either teased or cooed, but each reaction was encouraging.

Logan kissed him goodbye at the end of the night and he practically floated back to his moped. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he only remembered the curse when he caught sight of the nazar hanging on his kitchen wall. Cursing under his breath, Virgil went to his bookshelf and began to compile a few methods of curse-breaking. Did a shower count as running water? God help him, he was not getting in the bayou. Maybe he could combine methods.

A few moments later, Virgil had everything set up in the bathroom. He lit the last candle, tightened the herb sachet around his neck, and stepped into the shower. Okay, time to focus. He was washing himself free of the curse and wouldn't it be nice if Logan were here? Logan didn't believe in magic and his clear-headed confidence would undoubtedly make Virgil feel better, too-- Focus! Wash away the curse. Logan would probably help him if he asked, helping Virgil set up the crystals and making sure his candles stayed lit-- Virgil! The curse! Wash away the curse.

The bathroom smelled of candles, incense, and herbs. Almost like Virgil's workplace, except that Virgil was using lavender and his boss preferred nag champa.

He stepped out of the shower and inhaled deeply, letting the mixture of scents relax him and draw him toward sleep.

#sanders sides #analogical #sanders sides fanfic #spicypost #spicywrites #spicywrites howl #Spotify

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fisheoctrashdump · 3 years ago

Text

"Mystery flavor, huh?"

The man in front of her smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.

Tez smirked. "You know, the last time I trusted your cooking, I regretted it."

"I'm getting better now! I promise, this will at least be palatable." He held the spoon out to her with a hand cupped underneath to catch any potential drips.

She sighed and leaned forward to take the bite she was being offered. The saltiness hit her taste buds immediately, and she grimaced.

"You lied to me," she said bitterly, barely swallowing the liquid.

"What? I think it's good."

Tez shook her head. "Jax."

"Well, Josine liked it."

"She likes any soup you make for her."

Jax laughed and set the spoon on the cluttered counter. "Okay, how would you fix it, then?"

Tez raised an eyebrow. "That?" She gestured to the pot. "There's no fixing that."

Jax groaned dramatically.

"Oh, you know what would be good for next time? Add some sugar to the tomatoes and cook them down before you put them in the soup. Trust me, Jo will love that."

"Mommy?"

Tez and Jax instinctively looked down. A small child with curly silver hair stood beside Tez. His tiny hand was curled around the bottom of Tez's shirt, and he seemed troubled somehow.

"What is it?" Tez asked gently.

Razi retreated further behind Tez's arm and mumbled something incoherent.

"I'll start cleaning up," Jax announced. He lifted the pot from the stove and walked it over to the sink, leaving Tez and Razi on the other side of the kitchen.

Tez crouched down so that she and Razi were eye level. She placed both of her hands on his shoulders, and smiled comfortingly at him.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Razi."

Razi avoided Tez's gaze. He seemed to grow more upset with each passing moment, until tears threatened to fall.

Tez rubbed her hands on Razi's arms. "Hey, it's alright. If you can't tell me, why don't you show me?"

He finally looked at Tez. Reluctantly, Razi nodded and reached for one of Tez's hands. Tez stood and allowed her son to lead her out of the room. She and Jax shared one last curious glance before she entered the dining room.

As they passed the table, Razi coughed lightly, stumbling a moment as he did.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

The sound of someone crying entered Tez's attention. It got louder as they approached the doorway to the living room.

"What happened?" Tez asked.

Razi froze at the doorway and looked back at Tez. He was still clearly upset. The grip he held on Tez's hand tightened.

Tez squeezed his hand in return before stepping around him. Razi whimpered, and grabbed Tez's arm with his other hand.

As Tez peered into the living room, she noticed a broken item. The pieces lay scattered on the orange rug, and standing over this item was Mihdia. Josine, who had settled just behind, looked just as worried as Tez felt.

"Are you two okay?" Tez questioned. "What happened?"

The two teens looked up at the sound of Tez's voice. Mihdia's crying paused momentarily before she noticed Razi hiding behind Tez. Her expression darkened as more tears fell. Razi desperately clung to Tez now, and she could feel his tears against her arm as he began to cry as well.

"Mihdia's snow globe is broken," Josine explained.

"Razi broke it," Midhia sniffled. "He did it."

Josine frowned. "You know he didn't mean to."

"I'm sorry," Razi cried. His small body trembled as his crying rivaled Mihdia's. "I'm really sorry."

Tez instinctively moved her hand over Razi's head. Her fingers gently pulled at the curls of his hair as Tez assessed the situation.

"Jax?" Tez called out loudly.

Several moments passed before Tez saw Jax approaching from the kitchen. He walked across the dining room to meet Tez where she stood.

Tez gestured to the scene in the living room. Jax looked stunned.

"Apparently Razi broke one of Mihdia's things. A snow globe?"

"Oh. Oh, no." Jax looked down at Razi, who only cried harder.

Tez instinctively stuck an arm out in front of Razi.

Jax tried to smile at Razi reassuringly, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "It's gonna be okay, Razi. No one's mad at you."

"It was an accident, so I would hope not," Tez snapped.

Jax gave Tez an apologetic look before he entered the living room.

"Go away," Mihdia growled.

Jax looked down at the broken pieces and sighed. "Be careful of the glass."

"Oh, thank you so much for the warning. I had no idea that glass is something I should avoid."

Josine grabbed Midhia's arm gently. Her expression was melting from worry to hurt. "Mihdia…"

Mihdia glared at Josine momentarily before yanking her arm away from her grip.

"Why are you acting like this?" Josine asked. The desperation in her tone was enough to make Tez feel bad for Josine instead of Mihdia.

"She needs some time," Jax said to Josine quietly. "Give her some space."

"You think you know what I need?" Midhia shouted. "What I need is for this to never have fucking happened!" Mihdia gestured the rug. Her tears still fell from her eyes, but it was easy to see they were now fueled by a different emotion entirely.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I need dad."

The sudden calm of Mihdia's voice was jarring. Jax took a half step backwards and cleared his throat.

"He… he won't be back until tomorrow. You know that."

"Then I'm leaving."

"Midhia, please."

The entire room paused to look at Josine after the words she managed to throw in during the argument. She looked scared.

Mihdia exhaled shakily. "I need to be alone right now."

She glared sharply at Jax for a moment before she rushed to the stairs. They all listened to her as she left. The sound of a door slamming pulled them out of the daze they were in.

Tez released the air she had been holding. She met Jax's gaze for a moment before she looked between the two remaining children in the room.

"Are you alright?"

Josine shook her head, indicating that she wasn't. At some point during the commotion, Razi had wrapped his arms around Tez's waist and buried his face in her shirt.

Jax took a few careful steps towards Josine and opened his arms to her. She fell forward into the hug and began to weep quietly. Jax held her tight, as if he was the only thing holding her together.

"Mommy, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Tez's attention was turned back to Razi who now looked up at her, his face tear stained.

"It's alright, sweetie. It was an accident."

Razi sniffled and tried to wipe his face with his hand, but Tez stopped him before he could. She searched the room for her bag, and once located, she led Razi over to it. She hastily began to remove the many items contained within until she found the wipes.

"Is Mihdia mad at me?" Razi asked nervously.

"No, she's not mad at you." Tez lifted Razi's head by pushing his chin up and began to clean his face with the wipe.

"Am I-" Razi closed his mouth as Tez wiped it. "Am I in trouble?"

"No." Tez stuffed the wipe in the side pocket of her bag.

"Is Mihdia gonna tell mama?"

Tez froze. She opened her mouth, but her voice felt stuck. Razi noticed this, and whimpered.

"No, of course not. Mama won't know," Tez declared.

"She's gonna be mad…"

"She won't, because we won't tell her."

Razi silently watched Tez with wide eyes, still looking unsure.

"How about tomorrow we could say we're sorry to Mihdia."

Razi nodded.

"We could… we could bring her some cookies. You wanna help me make them?"

Razi smiled. "Can we make the puppy ones?"

Tez grinned and leaned down, motioning Razi to come closer. "I don't know," she said quietly. "We might attract the cookie bandit if we do."

Razi giggled. "We can share!"

"Oh, but he wants all the cookies for himself!"

She grabbed Razi's sides to tickle him, which caused Razi to squirm and laugh.

"Okay." Tez lifted Razi up to one of the dining room chairs and sat him down. "I need to go check on Jax and Jo, so you stay here, alright?"

Razi nodded.

"You wanna color while I'm gone?"

Razi nodded again.

Tez smiled and removed the book and crayons from her bag. She carefully set them down in front of Razi, before she leaned down to kiss him on top of the head.

"I love you, mommy."

"Lots and lots?"

"Mhm."

"I love you, too."

A bang at Razi's door startled him out of the trance he'd fallen into. He hastily pulled the headphones from his ears and looked away from his textbook for the first time in an hour.

"Razi? Can you come out here?"

"Yeah, one second."

Razi draped his headphones around the back of his neck as he stood from his desk. He stumbled a moment when the wheel of his chair caught on the rug behind it. Razi caught himself by grabbing the desk.

When he finally reached the door, he noticed his music was still playing loudly. Razi pulled his phone from the front pocket of his hoodie and paused the song that was playing as his other hand turned the doorknob to pull the door open.

In front of the doorway stood his father, Michael.

"Hey, you have company."

"Huh?" Razi gave Michael a confused look, but followed him out to the living room anyway. He paused at the end of the hallway as his gaze swept the living room. He finally noticed the two people standing by the front door.

"Oh, there you are," Galatea said.

"Took him long enough," Arvid grumbled.

At the sight of Galatea, Razi felt his face burn, and he looked down to double check his clothing. Arvid rolled his eyes and leaned against the closet door behind him.

"What are you… doing here?" Razi asked nervously.

"What are we-?" Arvid sighed.

"You forgot, didn't you? I can't believe you, Puppy," Galatea teased.

"Forgot… what?"

"Our plans today? I blew off Izan for this, and now you're saying you're not even going?" Arvid glared at Razi.

"I didn't… um…"

"Oh, he's going." Galatea smirked. "Go get ready! We'll wait."

Razi glanced over at Michael, who only shrugged and left for the kitchen.

"Okay, I'll… I'll be back."

Razi left for his bedroom, feeling a little confused. He didn't remember making any plans today. He paused in front of his door and traced his fingertips across the handle nervously. Maybe this is a good thing, he thought. Getting out for the day might help with this feeling.

Razi rolled the cord of his headphones between his fingers as he watched the world pass outside. Arvid had taken control of the music and was playing the sixth Simple Plan song in a row, but Razi didn't complain. He listened absently as Galatea teased Arvid.

"Where are we going?" Razi asked suddenly.

"Dude, where have you been this past week?" Arvid leaned his head back against the seat.

Galatea's gaze briefly left the road to glance at Razi in her rearview mirror.

"Did you have an idea? We can change plans if you want."

Arvid looked at Galatea in disbelief, but she ignored this.

"Anywhere is fine, I guess," Razi said.

Galatea turned the volume down on the music. "What?"

"I said, um�� anywhere is fine. I didn't have any ideas." He paused. "I don't know why I don't remember… making plans?"

Arvid sighed and readjusted his seatbelt.

"Just pick a place," Galatea said. "Wherever you wanna go."

Razi sat in thought. A minute passed before Arvid looked back at Razi. He gave Arvid a pleading look, which signalled to Arvid he needed to jump in.

"What about the arcade?" Arvid suggested.

Razi paused for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, let's do that."

Galatea didn't seem convinced. "Razi, you don't play video games."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, I wanna try it. To be honest, I've been feeling…" Razi exhaled. "Maybe doing something different than normal might help."

"So, the arcade it is!"

Galatea glanced at Arvid briefly. "Sounds fun," she added. However, she still seemed unsure.

Razi stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket to find the pack of gum he needed to calm down. He unwrapped the stick and put it in his mouth quickly before he turned to look out the window once again.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his phone vibrate. He saw it was a message from Arvid, and unlocked his phone.

Razi glanced up at Arvid. He seemed to be typing more, so Razi left the conversation open.

"Thank you."

It was several moments before Razi realized he said this out loud. He frantically began to type out an apology to Arvid.

"Sure," Arvid replied. He awkwardly reached for the volume on the music and turned it up to fill the silence.

No one spoke the rest of the ride. The gum in Razi's mouth finally lost its flavor, and Razi removed it to put it in the wrapper it came from. He still felt on edge. There was a moment where he considered taking out another piece, but before he knew it the string of his hoodie was in his mouth. He chewed on it and returned his gaze to the window just in time to see Galatea drive past the arcade.

He looked in her direction, but decided not to point this out. Either she had a reason, or she just missed the turn and would correct it.

The drive continued for another five minutes. Both passengers were curiously watching Galatea for any clues about their destination. Arvid seemed ready to ask the question, but Galatea put on her signal before he could.

"We're here!" Galatea said in a singsong voice.

"Where is here?" Arvid asked bitterly.

Razi observed the building as they pulled into the parking lot. His gaze fell on the sign, and he felt his heart skip. Arvid seemed to come to the same realization at the exact time Razi did.

"Planetarium?" They both said it, but their tones conveyed opposite emotions.

"Lame," Arvid hissed.

Razi finally removed the string of his hoodie from his mouth and felt a smile take him by surprise. As Galatea parked the car, she reached for her phone which had been previously placed in the cup holder.

"If I'm remembering correctly, they have a showing in about half an hour." Galatea grinned. "Still wanna go to the arcade, puppy?"

Razi shrugged his shoulders. Arvid turned in his seat to look at Razi as well.

"This seems fun," Razi mumbled.

"Of course it does." Galatea reached out to the backseat and ruffled Razi's hair playfully. "You know I have the best ideas."

Arvid scoffed, but otherwise offered nothing to the conversation.

"You'll have fun, too, Arvie." Galatea smirked at the death glare Arvid gave her from the use of his nickname.

"Let's just get this over with," Arvid sighed. He unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the door handle to exit the car. The other two followed his lead.

As he left the car, Razi could barely contain his excitement. For the first time that week, Razi's mind didn't feel so foggy. He noticed Galatea and Arvid watching him and felt his face burn as he walked quickly to follow them into the building.

The entrance was a lot more crowded than the parking outside indicated. Razi moved in closer to Galatea and Arvid, trying to resist the urge to reach out and grab them.

Galatea paused and turned her head towards the younger two. "Wait here."

Razi nodded. Arvid only folded his arms over his chest and looked around the area. Razi decided to observe his surroundings as well, and began to memorize the area.

A bump to his shoulder brought Razi back. He looked at the source; a stranger had run into him accidentally. He smiled politely and murmured an apology, but the stranger gave only a passing glance before continuing towards the door.

"Why didn't you apologize? Motherfucker," Arvid growled to himself. "I hate people."

Razi laughed nervously in response. The conversations from the strangers around him seemed to get louder until their voices all blended together into an overwhelming noise. Razi didn't realize how close he was getting to Arvid until their arms were touching.

"Dude." Arvid took a small step backwards. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm." Razi returned his hoodie string to his mouth and began to chew on the material.

"You two ready?"

Razi looked up as Galatea approached them. She seemed to notice something was off, because there was a flash of worry in her expression.

"I…" Razi frowned, moving towards Arvid again.

Arvid looked between Razi and Galatea. For the first time that day, he looked visibly concerned.

"What's wrong?" Galatea asked.

"I need to use the bathroom first," Razi announced. The sound of his own voice made him pause, his expression reflecting his shock.

"We'll wait for you," Galatea replied.

Razi nodded and hurriedly turned away to locate the bathrooms. He wasn't sure if he was going in the right direction, but he didn't want to be there anymore. Razi felt the tears leaving his eyes as he searched. He felt scared. He still wasn't sure where these feelings were coming from, and that scared him even more.

It wasn't long before Razi gave up his search and made his way to the exit instead. He covered his face the best he could to ignore the strange looks he was being given. As Razi exited, he felt a gust of wind cut through his clothes and make him shiver. The tears on his face were suddenly very cold.

He wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie and moved as far away from the door as he could. He leaned himself back against the building and pushed his hands into his front pocket.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. It didn't seem to be helping, though, because the tightness in his chest only got worse. Before he knew it, the sob he'd been fighting off suddenly surfaced. Razi put a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries, but it didn't help much.

"Stop," he forced out between his tears. "Stop… crying."

A memory flooded his mind. His mother. Her smile. Her smell. The sound of her voice. He felt his body trembling as his crying worsened.

"Razi?"

Razi pressed his hand harder against his mouth. He couldn't breathe. The feeling of someone's hands on his shoulders finally helped him pull in the rattling breath he needed to further fuel his breakdown.

It wasn't until Razi felt arms around him did he finally open his eyes. The blue hair in his face was unmistakable. Razi's breathing was quick and shallow, and the tears didn't stop, but he finally removed his hand from his mouth to return the hug Arvid had pulled him into. He buried his face in Arvid's shoulder, whimpering as he trembled in Arvid's arms.

It wasn't long before he felt another set of arms around him from behind. He exhaled and melted into the hold his friends had on him. When he finally felt safe to let go, Razi stood a little straighter and lifted his burning face from the comfort of Arvid's shoulder to face the chilly air.

Arvid and Galatea released Razi and moved backwards to give him some space. Razi could tell they had questions, but he couldn't bring himself to formulate an explanation.

"Do you… need to talk?" Arvid asked.

Razi made a small sound to indicate that he didn't, but it resembled more of a whimper. The other two still looked concerned.

"No," Razi whispered finally.

"What do you need?" Galatea questioned.

He didn't know the answer to that. He didn't know what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to be. He didn't know what to say. At that moment, Razi didn't feel like he belonged in a state of existence.

The beginning of a headache made itself known as a small sharp pain. Razi winced and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Is…" Arvid seemed unsure about going forward with the question he wanted to ask, but this uncertainty only lasted for a moment. "Is this about Avery?"

Razi paused, feeling his heart sink. He lowered his arm to rest at his side before nodding, though it was barely noticeable.

"And mom…" The words felt like ice in his mouth. "I miss them…"

Arvid raised an eyebrow as he shot a glance towards Galatea. He wanted to ask, but Galatea shook her head at him and mouthed the word "don't."

"Well, Avery's coming back," Arvid said. He slowly returned his gaze to Razi. "That's something to look forward to."

Razi shrugged.

"We're here for you until he does come back," Galatea added. "We won't make you do anything you don't want to, either. I can take you back home now."

"I wanted to… do this," Razi sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing." Galatea smiled. "Nothing's wrong with you. Stuff just happens."

"You both wasted your time on me and I let you down." Razi felt the tears in his eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't."

"I'm so sorry…"

"Don't apologize, Razi." A pause. "Hey, look at me."

Razi lifted his head to meet Galatea's gaze.

"I have one more idea. A backup plan, if you're up for it."

Razi didn't respond. He slowly followed Galatea's gaze up to the sky.

"We could go somewhere and watch the stars together. Just the three of us. You could talk, but you don't have to." Galatea paused. "Maybe that would be easier for you."

Razi sighed softly. "But I don't want to waste your time anymore."

"We're fine, Razi. This isn't about us," Arvid cut in.

"Come on, puppy. Worst that could happen there is we get eaten by a bear." Galatea lowered her voice. "We'll use Arvid as bait."

Arvid punched Galatea's shoulder and glared at her.

Razi exhaled a laugh. "You would be good bear bait."

Arvid groaned and turned away from the other two.

"So? What do you say?" Galatea asked, tugging on Razi's sleeve.

Razi nodded.

"Hell yeah." Galatea removed her car keys from her pocket.

"But… wait."

Arvid and Galatea turned their attention back to Razi immediately. Razi lowered his gaze to stare at his purple sneakers as he felt his face get hot again.

"Um… thank you."

Arvid only nodded in response before walking back towards the car. Galatea pressed the button on her keys to unlock the doors, and smiled at Razi.

"You know, you owe me for those tickets."

Razi gave her a questioning look. Galatea jerked her head slightly towards the building.

"Someday, you're coming back here with me. When you feel better. I know you're gonna love it."

"Yeah…"

"Yeah," Galatea responded affirmatively. "You let me know when you feel up to it."

Razi smiled nervously. "I will."

"You better. Now, let's go."

#jax #tez #michael #hnmp #josine #mihdia #razi #arvid #todd's ocs #hnmp gen2

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bloodyspade0000 · 4 years ago

Text

Generation of Miracles || Chapter Three of isn't it lovely?

Shougo always thought he could do everything on his own and never bothered asking for help. Until things get out of hand and he ends up getting hurt badly. Giving him no choice to suck it up and ask for help. Even if it's from the Generation Of Miracles. Now, they got no choice to pick up broken pieces and forgive the past.

Chap 1, Chap 2

A/N: I decided to post only the first three chapters of isn't lovely on here since it's on ao3.

Trigger Warning: mild gore

[Ao3 link]

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↓

It was a normal day with calm blue skies above; a silent breeze blew through the air as Daiki walked, heading over to Ryouta's house for a sleepover without any worries.

Until he turned a corner, and a barely perceptible sound from beside him made him stop in his tracks. He didn't know what he expected. A stray cat? Or maybe a homeless person?

But, definitely not Haizaki Shougo of all people sitting on the ground.

And for some reason, Daiki approached him even though some internal part of him told him he should leave Shougo and pretend he didn't see him.

Yet, he didn't.

His feet kept moving as if they were moths drawn to a flame, propelling until he stood above him.

Shougo lifted his head, and their eyes met. A characteristic scowl appeared on his face. But it didn't reach his eyes. They weren't filled with the usual fiery rage that scorched everything it touched. They were lifeless. "You," He growled. "Why the fuck are you here? "

"Could ask you the same," Daiki grunted, bending down and looking him over. Shougo's face was flushed, his brows furrowed together, and he was so pale it made the blood and the bruises on his face stand out in a far harsher contrast. His fingers were wrapped in bandages and Daiki swore if he were to lift Shougo's shirt, he would find more. "Did you get into a fight?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Shougo spat, going with the lie he always told. But, was sometimes true.

"Do you need help?" Daiki asked even though he knew getting involved with Shougo would end up badly. Especially since the last time they saw each other, it ended up with Daiki punching him in the face.

"You? Help me?" Shougo threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, right! I don't fuckin' need help from someone like you. So, scram!"

Daiki frowned. "Hai—"

"Why the fuck do you even care?" Shougo said. "Last time I fuckin' checked you hate my fuckin' guts."

Shougo was right. Why did he care?

Daiki tried telling himself it was because he was surprised to find Shougo so hurt since after every fight, Shougo usually ended up with a few scrapes and bruises. Sure, he might have broken a few bones—

Yeah, that wouldn't work.

It was just for some reason, even though he disliked Shougo. He still somewhat cared about him. Maybe even a little.

And—

"Look—"

"Hey, there you are, Aominecchi!" The familiar sound of Ryouta's voice called out from behind. Daiki turned and saw the rest of The Generation of Miracles.

"Well, ain't this fuckin' great," Shougo sneered, getting their attention. "It's the Generation of fuckin' Morons."

"Shougo-Kun?" And before Ryouta or the rest could get a good look at him. Daiki stood up, blocking their view of Shougo.

He offered him a hand. "I'm not asking how you feel," Daiki told him. "If I tell you I'm going to help you, I'm going to help you."

"And I already fuckin' told ya, I don't fuckin' need your help," Shougo snapped, glaring at him. "So, fuck off."

Daiki's eyes narrowed. "Shou—"

"Fine," Shougo huffed. "Do whatever you want, you stubborn bastard." He glanced away. "I don't care anymore."

He was tired. Tired of arguing. Fighting. Pretending. Everything.

And—

Hey… if he was lucky, Tetsuya could change him too and show him the 'light.'

Shougo snorted at the thought before doubling over and erupting into a loud harsh cackle of laughter.

The Generation of Miracles glanced at Shougo as if he had finally lost it. And maybe he has or—

His remaining thread of strength frayed before breaking completely, sending him plummeting over the edge and into the darkness.

Hysterical laughter turned into sobs, shaking his frame and threatening to tear him apart from the inside. Shougo fought to reclaim control over his body, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within his chest.

He tried to wipe away the tears. But, he couldn't. He couldn't stop them from falling. Couldn't stop the shaking. Couldn't stop more broken sobs from escaping. He couldn't force them down.

He couldn't force them down like he usually did.

Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't stop.

'W—Why?'

Why?

Why couldn't he stop crying?

Why was he…?

'It hurts….'

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

F—Fuck.

It hurt so much.

'I—I can't do this anymore,'

L.O.V.E

His breathing was ragged, and gasping as he choked on sobs, clutching his chest.

The walls he so desperately built around himself were crumbling and…

A-And… right in front of The Generation of Miracles.

They didn't move. Didn't know how to react. Except—

Except for Tetsuya, who was already bending down and pulling Shougo into his embrace, rubbing his back and trying his best not to let his own tears fall.

The others looked away. They just thought Shougo was just an asshole.

An asshole who went around picking fights, hurting and stealing. Someone who was filled with violence and rage. The guy who was considered dangerous and maybe a little unhinged.

Expect, he wasn't just all that.

He was a broken kid who probably grew up knowing only violence. Not an ounce of kindness because nobody bothered to get close. Close enough to look him in the eyes and see past all the rage. All the violence and see the pain, the self-loathing and the guilt.

What the Generation of Miracles saw now. What they should have seen a long time ago.

Yet, they hadn't because they never understood him and shut him out instead, like the rest of the world.

They never gave him a chance.

And they felt terrible for not realizing it sooner.

They wanted to fix things.

But could they really. Could they really fix their relationship? Mend, something that no longer existed?

Or maybe they could.

It was never too late for second chances, right?

L.O.V.E

When Shougo couldn't cry anymore. He felt numb and exhausted. He wanted to close his eyes and never open them. Wanted—

"H—Haizaki-Kun….?" Tetsuya spoke, voice shaky and eyes wide with horror as he glanced at the blood on his hands and soaking through Shougo's shirt, staining them both crimson. "… Y—You're bleeding."

"Yeah…" Shougo said, glancing at it blankly. "… I guess so."

It was like he no longer cared. Like he was used to seeing his own blood. Like it didn't bother him anymore. And it didn't.

"Y—You—"

"Tired…" Shougo slurred, exhaustion and blood loss finally taking its toll, dragging him under, closing his eyes sounded like bliss, and maybe when—

"Don't fall asleep," Shintarou told him, pulling Shougo away from Tetsuya, scooping him up, staining his hands with blood as he felt Shougo's feverish body for the first time, lifting his shirt and peeling away blood-soaked bandages.

He didn't know what he expected.

But it wasn't—

Shintarou grimaced, swallowing hard while the others froze, dread falling over them.

Shougo's torso was ripped to shreds, covered in raised angry welts and ragged edges of flesh that wept blood. Scars also littered his body, along with burn marks and bruises that looked more like—

"W—Who would do something like this?" Ryouta whispered in horror, looking away. He felt sick.

"That doesn't matter right now, Ryouta," Seijuurou said, watching as Shintarou brushed away a loose strand of hair from Shougo's burning forehead, gently laying his head on his lap, turning to his battered body. "Frist, we do this."

Within seconds, Shintarou quickly tore up Shougo's clothes, wrapping up some of the more severe wounds to the best of his abilities.

'Just what did you go through, Haizaki?'

"I stopped the bleeding," Shintarou spoke, pushing up his glasses. "But we might need to call an ambulance."

"N—No," Shougo whimpered, trashing weakly in Shinatrou's arms. "Plea… Please, d—don't….c—can't."

"I'm sorry," Shinatrou apologized as more pleas escaped Shougo's lips, begging them not to take him to a hospital and that — "I—"

"It's alright," Daiki stated softly, taking Shougo from Shintarou, picking him up bridal style and cradling him in his arms. "We won't, just hold on, okay?"

Shougo closed his eyes. "Okay…."

Ryouta's house was closer, anyway.

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chaosinfiniti · 2 years ago

Text

It took far too long for his heart rate to settle, especially as Ranza's careful eye continued to look him over as if there might be something he hadn't noticed awry. Had he let them get too close? Had he gotten scratched without knowing it - or worse? No, no, surely he would know. He released a slow breath as her hand came to pat against his chest, the corner of his lips twitching with just a hint of a reassuring smile for her. It seemed that was often what he was reduced to these days; reassuring others, trying to make it better for others even while he struggled to keep his composure.

He'd already lost so much in this world. He wasn't so sure he could stand to lose anything else.

So if it meant leaving the community they'd found themselves living within in order to stay with Esperanza - even if it meant going back out into...this. "So then...we'll take that if and when it comes."

He hesitates as they approach the buildings, his eyes shifting across the scene in search of any unexpected movement. The undead were enough of a problem to face, but they weren't their only concern. In fact, after all these years... the dead might be rather low on the list of problems.

"Yeah, maybe so. But remember the candy bars? They were like, 25 cents each back in the day. Besides, the changing stock lets you try new things. I could...perhaps see why you wouldn't appreciate that as a child." He follows her footsteps, ducking through the opening torn through the wall from years of looting and destruction. There were hints of what the place once looked like; advertisements faded and crumbling from the walls, shelves in disarray, product scattered across the floor.

"Ten cuidado," he says in an undertone, fearing what might be lurking behind hidden corners as she wanders towards the back rooms and offices of the former corner store. There had been times he'd been on the opposite side of these types of things, squatting among the shelving and falling silent, looking to catch them unawares. If he were lucky he'd be able to sneak away without causing a scene. But there were plenty of times things hadn't turned out so well. He was the one still standing, after all.

His fingers curl more firmly around the gun in his hands, double checking that the weapon is ready to be used should it be needed. It's clear that they're not the first to come through here in search of supplies; the shelves are practically cleared of anything remotely useful. Emptied packaging, broken bottles, and scattered debris. Bastian moves along the aisles slowly, picking through the shelves as if something they were in dire need of might suddenly appear beneath the rubble.

A crunch of broken glass draws his attention, gun lifted at the ready as he spun in the direction of the noise.

Despite his insistence that he was fine she still lingered as she was, hands on his shoulders, as she scanned him once more from top to bottom just to be sure. She was a worrier by nature, but more so when it came to Bastian. He was all Esperanza had now, and while she could endure loss she was not willing to endure his absence. She feared who she might become then. It had been a grim thought that drifted in and our of her mind like a dark tide beckoning to her to take a dip in the murky depths to discover who she could be and leave the safety of the shore where she knew who she was now. Esperanza already had a vague idea of the kind of person she could morph into and she felt both a fear and loathing at any fleeting thought of that, like now. But she masked her frown as concern and gave him a pat before letting him go like some kind of security guard.

They waded through silence, thick and crushing, while Esperanza slipped back into her own head for several long minutes. Her feet guided her towards the dilapidated buildings and cracked streets where weeds pushed upwards to free themselves from their concrete chokehold.

“I think,” she finally spoke up in a hushed voice. Esperanza pushed some loose locks out of her face where it had stuck to the drying beads of sweat that had formed during the small fight more out of anxiety than overexertion. “It’s a very real possibility that we will have to consider.” It wasn’t a definite yes or no, although it leaned more heavily on the affirmative. The curse of speaking to a politician. They always knew how to say a lot of nothing in as many words as possible while making it sound like they spoke anything of substance. Never committing to a yes or a no, it was always hard maybes that suggested one or the other but left room to backtrack. It was a habit she’d picked up over the years and one that annoyed even herself on many occasions when speaking to the other councilors.

She was grateful for the change in scenery as the grass gave way to rough pavement and sturdy trees turned into skeletons of concrete and brick buildings.

“Oh, I remember those stores.” She pointed over to what was once a chain convenience store. “I hated them as a child because you never knew if they’d have the same snacks you liked the week before. They were always changing their stock on you.” There were the remains of a few residential buildings scattered about as well, which always felt a little eerie to venture into and rifle through what were once someone’s personal belongings, or what remained of them, but also a fascinating adventure in their own ways.

“I wonder if anyone else is here, but I hope not.” Esperanza remained vigilant as she crossed the open road and ducked into the store. There wasn’t much there but perhaps something had rolled under the riveters or there was a lockbox or anything that had been overlooked. “I’ll check the back rooms, call me if you need me.”

#ch; bastian fernando rivas #w; esperanza corona #asterigos

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spencers-dria · 4 years ago

Text

The First of Many

Someone To Stay Ch. 10

Spencer Reid x fem reader

Content Warnings: *Mentions of alcohol/drinking

Y/N POV:

You roll over in bed to glance at your phone to see it's 11 AM. It feels nice to sleep in with no alarm. After putting on your glasses and slippers and finally dragging yourself out of bed, you stroll into the kitchen and pour a bowl of fruity pebbles. You put a music playlist on the TV to play in the background.

It has been almost a week since your talk with Spencer. As much as it hurt you to see him broken in that way, you felt honored that he trusts you enough to share that part of his life with you. Talking about trauma is never easy. You should know.

You think over some of the things you said to him. Spencer's entire job involves profiling people and reading every tone, every bit of body language. You are sure that he most likely noticed changes in you as you spoke about coping with trauma, but you're grateful he hadn't felt the need to prod you with questions. He had become your best friend here, but you aren't sure you're quite ready to bare the darkest parts of your soul to him.

Suddenly you hear a knock at your door, not caring if a neighbor or maintenance worker sees you in your pajamas, you stroll towards the door and swing it open. You rub your eyes under your glasses to make sure you're seeing correctly. Spencer is standing in your doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Y/N I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up! I just assumed since it was 11..."

You wave, brushing off his comments. "Its fine, really. I actually wasn't asleep. I was eating a late breakfast though." You suddenly become very self-conscious, and its not just because you're in your pajamas. Spencer had seen you that way on the trip. You realize as you stand in your doorway that you're wearing a tank and tight fitting PJ shorts and your bear paw slippers. Your hair is a giant mess. You have no makeup on, which you usually relied on to conceal your less than perfect skin. You never really outgrew acne, even in your twenties. You were also in your glasses. Basically, you felt like a hot mess, somewhat like Princess Anna waking up on coronation day. Even though your movie nights had been casual, you always tried to be at least somewhat put together without looking like you tried too hard.

"Umm come in" You step aside as you cross your arms over your chest, your gaze staying on your feet.

"Sorry you had to see me like this. I thought maybe it was just apartment maintenance. I can go change real quick..."

A look of genuine confusion spreads across his features. "I don't understand. See you like what?"

You gesture to your entire body. "Like...this! I'm a complete mess, Spence." You try to keep your face down to conceal the redness growing on your cheeks.

Spencer shakes his head before letting out a small chuckle. You glance up, confused as to what about this he could possibly find funny. He better not be laughing at you, seeing as you are embarrassed enough as it is.

He shakes his head, smiling. "Silly girl."

Spencer reaches down and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. "You always look pretty."

The voice of Mama Cass singing Dream a Little Dream of Me fills the air between the two of you. There's so much tension and you don't know where it came from. Usually you're really comfortable with Spencer. But you definitely feel butterflies in your stomach as the two of you lock eyes.

You definitely can't hide the blush heating up your face now. It seems like he is just now processing what he's said and done because his eyes widen as you see his face turn red as well. He lets out a cough, breaking eye contact and staring down at his shoes as he begins to fiddle with his hands. Your gaze lingers on his hands for just a moment before you turn on your heel and head back towards the kitchen table to finish your cereal.

Spencer follows you, hesitantly, leaning against the kitchen counter. There are a few moments of silence before he finally says "I was at a coffee shop just one block over. I had something to ask you so I thought I'd just stop by."

"Like I said before, you are always welcome Spencer. So what is your question?"

"It's probably stupid. You are more than welcome to say no. I probably would if I were you."

You laugh and roll your eyes. "Wow you're really selling me on this, keep going."

"Well... the team they uh, well sometimes they go out for drinks. If I don't go along they never let me hear the end of it. I usually end up sitting b-by myself while they all head to the dance floor. I j-just thought...I thought maybe you might..."

Spencer looks up, surprised to see you smiling and nodding enthusiastically.

"I'd love to. It's been a couple weeks since I've seen everyone. And honestly I could use a few drinks myself."

A toothy grin slowly grows on his face as he bites down on his bottom lip. He does this all the time but for some reason, today, you find your eyes staring at his lips a little too long after he's done this. Wow, he has really nice lips. Like reallyyy nice lips. How had you never noticed? I wonder if he's ever kissed anyone. He's in his thirties, surely he has. But he hasn't really spoken about past relationships. Then again neither had you.

You accidentally held your gaze on him while completely losing yourself in this train of thought. You are brought back to the present by Spencer calling your name. Your eyes quickly dart up to meet his as you realize just how far down the rabbit hole you had allowed your mind to go. You shake your head quickly, pushing these thoughts far away. It's hard enough to find a really great friend who will stick around that you can trust. You had no intention of screwing that up any time soon.

"Sorry! I'm really tired. I guess I just kind of zoned out there for a second." You quickly explain before returning to eating your bowl of cereal.

"Well I guess I should get going...I'll see you tonight?" Spencer starts to head toward the door.

"Wait! Why are you leaving?"

"Oh well I just though, well...I don't know. Are you saying you want to hang out?"

"You're my best friend here Spencer, of course I want to hang out!"

Before long the two of you had the Goblet of Fire ready to go on the TV with an array of snacks strewn across the coffee table. You noticed Spencer didn't sit on the far end of the couch this time. Instead, he sat almost on the middle. You decide to sit next to him, looking at him to make sure he's okay with it. He only gives you a smile, seemingly okay with this new arrangement.

By halfway through the movie, you had somehow ended up sharing one of your large fuzzy blankets and you had scooted close enough together that your head was on his shoulder. He hadn't said anything but you were fairly certain his breathing had changed as you'd done it.

The two of you had never been very touchy so you're not sure what had brought out this side of you today. Your thoughts start to wander again. Maybe it was the compliment he'd given you earlier. Spencer had never called you pretty, but hearing him say it gave you all kinds of nerves. You hadn't really thought about Spencer in that way. It's been years since you'd had a crush on anyone. You've forgotten what that even feels like. Surely that's not what this was. The two of you were just close. It's not like he'd ever be interested. He was a literal genius, an FBI agent, not to mention he was gorgeous. He could have any woman he wanted. Why are you even thinking about this! You don't like Spencer. Geez Y/N, get it together.

After the movie ends, you sit up and look at Spencer. "Do you need time to go home and get ready or will you be ready to leave from here?"

"Oh, I think I'm ready. I can leave and come back if you like?"

"That's silly. You can just wait here while I get ready, unless you have somewhere better to be" you jokingly raise your eyebrows and shove his shoulder. He fakes like he's been hurt, causing you to giggle. Ugh, why are you giggling? You sound like a lovesick schoolgirl.

You quickly stand up and head towards your bedroom before turning around to Spencer. "You are more than welcome to and food and drinks you find, and you can look through and find something on the TV if you'd like."

You take a quick shower and throw on a robe while you fix your hair and make up. You pull out a curling rod. You had a balayage done to your hair earlier that year, so curls really did look best, making the dark to blonde even more blended. As you look through your closet, you decide to pick an outfit that will give you a bit of a confidence boost. You pull on a spaghetti strap snug fitting maroon, velvet dress. It's a little lower cut than you usually wear, but it comes almost to your knees, keeping you from feeling like you've exposed too much skin. The back dipped fairly low, with the top half of your back covered in a piece of lace. After slipping into some strappy black sandals, you look in the mirror and admire the way it accentuates your curves. You'd been blessed with more booty than chest, so luckily you don't have to worry about showing an inappropriate amount of cleavage around Spencer's coworkers. Your legs also looked even more long and slender than usual. Yep, this was the perfect outfit.

You check your makeup in the mirror once more. Dark lipstick with smoky eye shadow and long lashes. You did this for yourself. You liked being able to feel a little bit sexy every once in awhile. You weren't dressing for anyone else. That is what you keep repeating in your head, and you will keep doing that until you believe it.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves before stepping into the living room. Spencer is lying on the couch, reading through the book from your coffee table: Edgar Allen Poe's Complete Works. He's so entranced in the book, he doesn't notice you enter the room. Once he hears the clack of your heels across the floor he finally glances up and does a double take. Eyes wide, he opens his mouth to speak but just shuts it again. You can't help but think this was the reaction you had hoped for. Why were you dressing to impress Spencer? Maybe it's because he thought you were pretty when you were at your worst. You wondered what he would think when you put on your best. Based on the growing redness spreading from his face and down his neck, it's fair to say he liked what he saw. You could have sworn you hear him whisper a "wow" under his breath.

"I feel like I'm underdressed now." He finally speaks up.

"You look fine Spencer!"

"Fine? Fine can't compare with...with this!" He gestures to all of you.

You decide to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just threw on a dress I thought would fit in with the atmosphere" You shrug. You want to tell him he looks more than fine. That he always looks fantastic, but you decide to keep this to yourself.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you're dressed, but if it bothers you that much I can help." You step forward and look him up and down, trying to figure out the best way to do this.

"You clearly know what you're doing," he laughs. "Go ahead."

"Ok first take off the sweater vest."

Spencer removes his black velvet-like blazer in order to remove a grey, patterned sweater vest. He's left in a dark purple button down with a matching tie, black slacks, and dress shoes.

You step closer and reach out to touch his tie, hesitating for a moment.

"May I?"

He nods for you to go ahead. You remove the tie and undo the top two buttons on his shirt. You then grab his blazer and help him to slip back into it. Lastly, you move your hand up to ruffle his hair a bit. You step back to take in the whole look.

"Well?" he asks.

You roll your tongue to the side of your mouth, biting on it as you try, very poorly, to hold back a smirk. You're impressed with your finished result.

He looks...hot. NO! Stop...nope. We're not going there. He's your best friend. That's all.

He must have noticed the way you've been eyeing him and the look on your face, because he is slowly turning a deep shade of red.

"See for yourself" you say as you lead him over toward a mirror.

After looking over his new appearance, he smiles. You can tell he feels confident like this. Confident Spencer is something you wish you saw more of. You're glad you could help him to see that he can be attractive. You wish he knew that he always has been.

"Come on pretty boy" you say, imitating Derek as you lead the two of you downstairs.

Luckily the bar is well within walking distance from your apartment. When you open the door to step outside the cool night air hits your skin, causing you to shiver a bit. You immediately feel a soft warmth enveloping your arms and shoulders. You look up to see Spencer wrapping his blazer around you. If any other guy had done this, you would certainly make assumptions, but Spencer was such a kind-hearted guy, you know he's only trying to be a gentleman. You give him a quick smile of appreciation as the two of you start to make your way to the bar.

When you finally walk through the doors, you make your way to a corner booth where you see some of Spencer's team...or your friends? You suppose they've really become your friends here. After greeting Penelope, Derek, and JJ each with a hug, you and Spencer walk up to the bar together to order drinks. Spencer orders water, which doesn't surprise you, but you've already decided that he needs a little help letting loose.

"Would you let me pick out a drink for you?" you ask, giving him your sweetest puppy dog eyes before he has a chance to shoot down the offer.

He sighs as though annoyed but his smile says other wise. "Fine, but go easy on me please."

"Two rum and cokes please, and make mine a double."

The two of you make your way back over to the rest of the group with your drinks. You listen to the four of them chat about some recent cases they've worked on. The topics don't bother you much, as you've always found that line of work intriguing. Since you're mostly listening, you finish your drink fairly quickly before Penelope speaks up.

"Enough work talk! I came to dance. Who's with me?"

Finishing your final sip, you slam the glass down on the table. You stand up to join her. "I'm in!"

JJ stands as well. "Alright, lets go, ladies!"

You hand Spencer back his blazer and look to him and Derek, waiting to see if they'll join.

"I'm feeling a little sore after that take down the other day. Maybe I'll join when I'm s a few more drinks in," Derek says.

"I'm okay for now." Spencer sees your hesitation when you realize he wont be joining. "Its okay though! Go and have fun." He gives a smile to let you know that he'll be fine. "Plus I have Morgan here to talk to for now."

"That's right, pretty boy!" Derek laughs as he throws his arm around Spencer, messing with his hair.

You laugh at the two as you turn to join the girls on the dance floor. You're grateful that those two have one another. Spencer is an only child and Derek seems to act in a big brother role. You know that it's good for him.

As you make your way to JJ and Penelope, the DJ is playing Now or Never by Tritonal. You are so grateful for a place that has good taste in music. EDM is just another one of many genres you enjoy. You and the girls are belting out the words together: "I'd rather have one night, than nothing foreveeerrr!"

As the beat builds you pick up your pace on the dance floor, giggling and dancing around with your friends. The beat finally drops and you're jumping and letting loose. You haven't had this much fun in a long time. Towards the end of the song, your gaze lands on Spencer. You notice Derek has left him to flirt with a girl over by the bar. He brought you along so he wouldn't be alone, and here you had left him. You make your way over to sit next to him after ordering two shots. You sit down next to him and slide his over towards him. He catches it as he raises his eyebrows at you.

"C'mon, you're gonna dance with us! I figure it will probably help if you drink to loosen up a bit first."

Spencer stares down at the shot in front of him, clearly questioning whether or not he should go along with this.

"You don't really have to, Spence. But I thought I'd at least try. I don't want you to have to be all alone over here. And I think you might actually have fun, if you gave it a chance. Plus, I can't dance at all! So you'll be fine as long as you stick with me."

This causes him to chuckle. He looks up at you. "Thanks, Y/N. I do appreciate it. I think everyone else has just kind of given up on asking me to join. But since you care enough to try I guess it's the least I can do."

"Woo! yes! Okay...bottoms up?" You look to him as the two of you clink your shots and down them in one quick motion. He seems to struggle a bit more after, since he doesn't do this often.

You hear Dirty Sexy Money comes on and your eyes light up with excitement. "Yes! This is a great song! Come on!" You grab his hand and lead him out to the dance floor.

You can tell Spencer is a bit unsure of himself still. You grab both of his hands and start to move him around, just trying to get him to loosen him. Both of you can't help but laugh. Neither of you are actually dancing well, just goofing off and having fun. Alcohol leaves you with more confidence than usual, so you're singing the song out loud, not caring who hears. You feel your confidence building even more. The problem with drinking is, you tend to get a bit flirty. This is usually directed at the nearest person, and it's usually the worst possible person. You begin to stop caring who's watching or how you're coming across. The song makes you feel sexy and you want to have fun.

Your dancing changes from silly to sexy as the chorus begins. You've got your hands in the air as you do body rolls. Your hips are swaying with the music. You're not sure how they got there, but before you know it your hands are wrapped around Spencer's neck. He looks so attractive to you right now. Your eyes stay locked on his as you sing the words of the song. You're feeling even more bold so you turn your back to him and grab his hands to place them on your sides. You shimmy down towards the ground and back up again. You feel him tighten his grip on you. You turn around to see a wide-eyed Spencer. His face is beet red and he's sweating despite not having danced much. You know that if this was bothering him, he would have walked away. The alcohol is keeping you from caring how this will affect your friendship afterwards. All you can think about is now. His words, his actions today, HE had made you feel confident and sexy. In this moment, you wanted him to know that. You're too buzzed and too busy taking in how good he looks to notice his eyes dart down to your lips, not so differently from what you had done earlier.

The thick tension in the air between you is quickly dispensed as the song changes. As Last Friday Night comes on, you pull Spencer over to the rest of the group on the dance floor, which now included Derek. The five of you end up singing and dancing around together, but you and Spencer can't help but stealing glances when the other isn't looking. Neither of you can forget what happened earlier. The other three share knowing looks.

As the night comes to a close, the group parts ways. Spencer opens the door for you as the two of you step outside to head back to your apartment. Most of the walk is made in silence. He passes his car outside your building and walks with you all the way back to your door. After unlocking it, you turn to him to say goodnight. Once again, your eyes land on his lips, one of his many wonderful features. You find yourself wishing you could kiss him, but your logic tells you this would not be a good idea at the moment. You are aware that your judgment is clouded. So instead, you pull him in for a hug. He buries his face in your shoulder as he whispers "Goodnight Y/N" next to your ear.

You rush inside and close the door before you have a chance to do anything you regret. After getting ready for bed, you are surprised to hear a small alert from your phone. It's a little late for anyone to be texting you. It's Spencer.

Spencer📱I had fun tonight. Thanks for making me try new things. :)

Y/N📱Me too! And good because I have a feeling that was a first of many haha

You fall into your bed, crawling under the covers. It feels comfier than usual, but you know it's because of how tired you are. You take in the feeling of the slick sheets against your skin and the warmth the blankets provide. You fall asleep with a smile on your face, remembering all the events of the night.

A/N: Thanks for reading this far! Y'all are awesome! Let me know what parts you like best!

Have a wonderful week loves 💖

#Spotify

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1dfangirls35 · 4 years ago

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Voir Dire (N.H.)

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

A/N (Pt 1): Although many of us read fanfiction as an escape from our current reality, I want to acknowledge an important reality in the United States and around the world. If you have a moment, I encourage you to check out this site for more information about the Black Live Matters movement, and resources that you can use to both show your support and educate yourself! There is a lot more to be done, so I hope we all continue to support, LISTEN, and learn (I know I’ve learned a lot over the past few weeks)!

twenty-three

Kelsey tried her best to paint her face with excitement and eagerness as she and Mallory made their way to the after party. Inside though, she was filled with dread. She wasn't sure what she was most scared of. Was she more afraid that Niall would want to speak with her or more afraid that he wouldn't? Was she more scared that he likely moved on with Krystal or scared that he hadn't?

Then there was the fact that Kelsey had signed a contract. A contract that explicitly forbid any contact with Niall. Her stomach began to lurch at the thought of someone from Capitol being here. Would she be kicked out of Stanford just for attending the same party as Niall?

Kelsey fidgeted with the hem of the little black dress she had slipped into for the evening as they waited in line at the entrance to the large ballroom where the event was being held. Mallory, wearing a form-fitting red dress that showed off her former track star legs perfectly, was rambling on about who might be at the event, and whether it was entirely inappropriate for her to ask for a photo should the opportunity arise.

Kelsey felt bad for ignoring her friend. She knew she should be living in the moment, enjoying the opportunity of a lifetime to rumble with the stars. But she couldn't stop searching the crowd, looking for the face that she was so desperately trying to avoid. Maybe he wouldn't even be here, and all this anxiety would be for nothing.

"Passes please ladies?" the tuxedo-clad man standing at the front of the double-door ballroom entrance announced, temporarily interrupting Kelsey's search for Niall. She reached into her clutch to withdraw the two passes which Basil, as promised, had delivered to their hotel room door a few hours earlier.

"Enjoy," the man smiled, extending an arm in a welcome as Kelsey and Mallory stepped into the expansive ballroom.

It took their breath away at first. Sky high ceilings with glistening chandliers. Small tables covered with black drapes at which people mingled with drinks in hand. In one corner a DJ played music to a crowd that was slowly accumulating on the dance floor. In the other, an ice sculpture and bustling bar filled with people. Waiters spread through the crowd with plates hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne.

"Wow," Mallory whispered under her breath. Kelsey nodded in agreement.

With the exception of the 40 Love album release party, Kelsey had never really experienced Niall's world. She'd imagined it- the scene in her head based off thing she'd seen in the movies. But this. This was it. Seeing it in person for the first time makes Kelsey realize just how intimidating it was. And reminded her of just how much she didn't fit into this world.

"Champagne ladies?" A waiter approaches them, offering two glasses of the bubbly golden liquid.

"Thank you," Kelsey replied, grabbing a glass and quickly bringing it to her lips.

"Let's dance!" Mallory exclaimed, pulling on Kelsey's arm and dragging her towards the dance floor before she even has a chance to say no.

Kelsey saw him enter as she was dancing. He's dressed in all white, the top few buttons of his collared shirt undone, likely revealing his tufts of chest hair. He's laughing, chatting up with some man in the line in front of him. She scanned the crowd for signs of Krystal behind him- knowing she's likely lurking nearby, but when she doesn't see her, she breathed a sigh of relief, trying to return her focus to the beat the of the music instead of the beat of her heart.

Niall was hesitant that Kelsey would even come. When Basil told him that she turned down the offer to come back stage, he'd felt defeated. Maybe she didn't feel the same way after all this time. But he could have sworn they shared a moment. It was fate wasn't it? That they would be in the same place at the same time?

He was grateful he hadn't dragged Krystal along for this weekend. He'd contemplated it, wondering if that was the right thing to do. Then he'd reminded himself that he was no longer under any contractual obligations, and that maybe the very thing he had needed was Las Vegas. And he was right, the very thing he needed was Las Vegas, or more specifically someone who just so happened to be in Las Vegas too.

He first caught a glimpse of her as she was dancing. Even in a room full of people, she was impossible to miss; because Niall only had eyes for her. Niall realized that he was staring, but just when he is about to move his eyes away she turned around, and for the second time today- he caught her gaze.

"Are you okay?" Mallory asked. Kelsey realized that while every other person on the dance floor was moving to the beat of the music, she was standing perfectly still. Her eyes locked on Niall's. She knew she should look away. Someone might notice. Something might go wrong. But for a second, the room fades away and it's just her and Niall, like it used to be.

"I..." Kelsey began, noticing that Niall had suddenly began to exit his conversation, taking steps in what she could only assume was her direction. She began to panic. "I need to use the restroom," she said quickly before bolting off the dance floor.

Kelsey raced toward the edge of the ballroom, pushing her way through the crowd until she found a bathroom door that was slightly ajar. She flung the door open and stepped inside, turning around the close the door behind her. Except she can't close it, because there in the doorway stood the very person she was running from.

"You can't be in here," Kelsey stuttered as he closed the heavy wooden door behind him. Kelsey stepped backwards, pinning herself against the white marble wall. She felt her heart racing and she tried to inhale deeply to keep it from beating out of her chest. Kelsey thought that she might have been more calm and collected, but something about him, being here, feet from her for the first time in months made her incapable of controlling her physiological response.

Up close, he looked just like she remembered him. His hair had grown a little longer on the top, and his beard was a little scruffier than when she last saw him. Even from the five foot distance they stood at, Kelsey can see the blue of his eyes. But instead of bright and glistening, they look tired and more dull, like he hasn't been sleeping well.

"Kels, just give me a minute to talk to you," Niall begged, his eyes pleading with Kelsey as though she was determining his fate. He knew that maybe this wasn't the right way to go about this, ambushing her in the bathroom at an after party where there were bound to be paparazzi. But he didn't know how else to do it, since she clearly wasn't going to speak to him on her own volition. Ever since he spotted her in the crowd at the festival, she had been all he could think about. Niall needed answers. And if the answers came from following Kelsey into a bathroom at a crowded party like they were off to have a quick shag, so be it.

"We can't talk Niall," Kelsey replied sternly. It wasn't that Kelsey didn't want to talk to Niall, she did. There was nothing in the world that her heart wanted more than to talk to the man she had been in love with, that maybe she still was in love with. But Kelsey knew this was far more complicated than a simple chat. She had finally begun to feel like she was achieving her dreams, her life was back on an incline. And talking to Niall, even a few words threatened the very life she had dreamed of for years. Any word to Alan Michaels that the two had even been in contact and her dreams of being a lawyer would vanish. Kelsey didn't want to jeopardize that for a chat with a guy that had obviously moved on from her, no matter how much his begging blue eyes made her fingertips tingle.

Niall took a step closer to her, taking in the sight of the girl who has been haunting his mind for months. She had looked stunning under the dim lights of the ballroom, but her beauty was even more illuminated in the fluorescent glow of the bathroom lights. "Kels, c'mon it's fine. No one knows we are in here. Just give me a few minutes," he tries to reach out and grasp her hand, the way he used to, but she instantly pulled away.

Kelsey eyed the bathroom door, wondering if there was any scenario in which she got past Niall without saying another word. "Niall, you don't get it. I can't talk to you," Kelsey threw up her hands in frustration. She thought he was smart enough to know that there had been a reason she had been totally out of contact. Surely he knew her well enough that she wouldn't just abandon him.

Niall looked at her for a minute, his mind trying to comprehend what Kelsey was saying. "They made you fucking sign something didn't they," he growled, his face filling with heat.

Kelsey didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything, another explicit direction of her agreement. She hoped that her face would give Niall the answer her needed.

"They did," Niall answered his own question, circling around the bathroom as if doing so would help him come to the conclusion he needed. It had crossed his mind, that the reason Kelsey had so quickly broken things off had something to do with his unsatisfied management. He'd tried to convince himself it wasn't true, because what kind of artist wants to believe that the people that are supposed to be looking out for his best interests would willingly sabotage his relationship?

Niall sighed. "We could have done something Kels, I could have left the label, we could have..."

"Stop," Kelsey exclaimed, sticking her hand out in front of her before Niall could continue his sentence. She didn't want this to become a pity session for the what ifs of their relationship. She'd tried her best to move on from their unfortunate circumstances, and from the look of recent tabloids, Niall had too.

Niall sensed a hint of resentment in Kelsey's voice. And rightfully so, he resented himself for ever putting her in this position. But if she wasn't here to give them another chance than why was she here? "If you aren't able to talk about it then why are you here?" Niall questioned, bringing himself to lean against the white porcelain sink.

"You think I came here to see you?" Kelsey said shocked. She couldn't believe the words had left his mouth, as if she would come searching for him after the recent news she had seen. It was clear to Kelsey that Niall didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

"I.." Niall began, but Kelsey didn't give him the chance to finish.

"You honestly think I would come to search you out after you've made it quite obvious that you have moved on?" Kelsey raised her voice. Suddenly remembering where they were, Kelsey returned her volume to a coarse whisper. "Where is she tonight? Where is she?"

Niall didn't need a name to know exactly what 'she', Kelsey was referring to. He looked down at black tile with hesitation before saying softly, "She's not here Kelsey."

Kelsey felt her fists begin to clench. She didn't know why this was making her so angry, it's exactly as she had expected. But something about being in a room with him, hearing him acknowledge that fact that she is very much still in the picture starts a fire deep inside her gut. She doesn't want to care. She knows she shouldn't. But the pain is still there, waiting to erupt.

"Oh right, she's probably not here because she's having your fucking baby," Kelsey blurted out. She didn't intend for the words to come out so harsh. She knew she shouldn't be angry, it was her that had made the decision to leave, choosing her future over her relationship. She should have known that eventually Niall would move on. She just didn't think Niall would move on so soon- and with Krystal of all people.

"It's more complicated than that Kelsey," Niall shook his head, taking a step towards her. The tabloids ruined everything. It wasn't like the baby was intentional. But Niall had an obligation, and he wasn't someone that was going to abandon his responsibilities. He wanted to explain it to Kelsey. He wanted her to know that it wasn't as if he had forgotten about her and started a new life, but she doesn't give him a chance to explain.

"So it's another stunt then? Just another step in the seemingly endless amount of PR that you have to do in order to be a successful artist?" Kelsey crossed her arms. "I used to feel sorry for you, you know," Kelsey remarked. "I used to feel sorry that you had to live out some pre-planned life. But now..." Kelsey looked straight into the deep blue eyes that had captivated her ever since she first saw them. "Now I see that you just play the victim in it all, when in reality, you are perfectly fine with people choosing your destiny for you."

Niall stayed silent for a second, reading the pain on Kelsey's face. It hurt him to see it. This was never how he intended for things to go, this was never what he wanted for them. Was that what she thought of him? Complacent with his life? A puppet of his label and the entertainment industry?

Kelsey moved closer to the door, the distance between her and Niall growing. She considered leaving then, walking out the door and leaving Niall behind once again. She knows that's what she should do. But instead, she turned back towards him. "You promised me," her voice wavered. "You promised me you wouldn't fall in love with her."

"Who said anything about me falling in love with her?" Niall rebuttled, the knot in his stomach growing. He knew this was what was hurting Kelsey, the fact that after all this time Krystal was the one still in his life and not her.

"Just man up and admit that you've moved on Niall. I can take it." Kelsey challenged. Her voice came out strong, but internally she was holding back tears.

That was it. Niall couldn't take it anymore, this time his voice was the one that rose. "How could you possibly think that I could have moved on from you?"

He walked towards Kelsey, backing her against the smooth white wall next to the door. Kelsey's breath hitched from the close proximity of Niall's body. She wanted to hate him right now, she wanted to scream at him for ever putting her in this situation in the first place. But the truth was, Kelsey wasn't over Niall either.

"I'm still in love with you Kelsey," Niall whispered, his breath now close enough for Kelsey to feel. "I'll always be in love with you." And then Niall's lips crashed into hers.

Kelsey felt like she was moving in slow motion. Her hands tangled in Niall's hair as he walked them to the bathroom counter, his hands strong as he lifted her hips up to perch on the edge. She knew this was exactly what she wasn't supposed to be doing- especially in the middle of an after party in Las Vegas. But being with Niall- his hands on her skin, his lips on her neck- it didn't feel wrong at all. It felt perfectly right.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall , @ihearthemcallingforyou , @niall-is-my-dream , @stylishmuser , @thicksniall

A/N (Pt 2: Update on Updates): Thank you all so much for reading so far! I just wanted to provide an update on upcoming updates :) I'm going to be resuming clinicals next week (Yay!), and it appears my schedule will be quite busy. I’m also traveling to the setting of this very story for my rotation so I’m hoping to get a little exploring in as well. Since my time to write will likely be limited, this is hopefully an acceptable spot to pause Niall and Kelsey's story! I hope everyone is staying safe and well, and look forward to continuing Niall and Kelsey's story with you in about a month! In the meantime, if you are in search of a new niall fic, @booksncoffee has composed an excellent masterpost that can be found here! Or if you aren’t sick of me, here’s mine!

#I hope this makes you happy #voir dire #writingby1dfangirls35 #1dff #niallff #niall horan #nh #niall fanfiction #niall x ofc #fake dating #secret relationship #niall ou

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years ago

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The Fall of Cordonia

Prologue

The Royal Heir AU

Summary: After a failed alliance and inability to secure a marriage pact between their children, King Bradshaw's forces attack and overthrow Liam and Riley's kingdom, leaving death and destruction in his path.

Violence and profanity.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Thank you @burnsoslow and @emceesynonymroll for giving me the courage to actually write this.

Auvernal 6:32PM

"Your Majesty, we have received word from General Phillips on the ground....the attack on Cordonia was a resounding success".

With those words, the delighted, King of Auvernal, knew he had dealt a massive blow to the small, neighboring kingdom. This is, however, what happens when your back is against the wall, using power and strength to gain even more. A failed alliance between his country and Cordonia, meant a desperate power grab for it's wealth and prestige was inevitable. Without a military to match, Liam's kingdom was a ticking time bomb.

Bradshaw remained composed as his informant shared the details of the surprise attack, that included toppling, simultaneously, each duchy, the communication grids and the Cordonian capital.

He adjusted his tie and slicked back his perfectly coiffed black hair, feeling an aura of invinsibilty, "And what of the King and Queen?".

"It is assumed they are both dead sir".

King Bradshaw turned confidently from the railing of his balcony, fingers steepled and a slight grin cast on his face, "Perfect......and the package was delivered unharmed to the Princess?".

"It is en route to Monaco as we speak, sir".

****************

Cordonia-Underground Bunker 10:15 PM

A shaky hand tightly grips a bottle of scotch, while his bleary eyes study a picture in the other. Exhaustion, chaos, heartache and defeat had consumed every single fiber of his being and death would be a most merciful dweller. Slumped into the corner of a barely lit room, the weight of his losses had completely engulfed him. How is it possible to lose everything you love and live for in literally the blink of an eye. Was this all a cosmic joke, karma, a way for evil to overpower all the good that he had amassed?

Rubbing his thumb along the photo, his heart hurting more than he could withstand. His lip quivered as he thought about this morning, always a perfect day when one could rise as the sun barely broke through the clouds. He had placed a tender kiss on the temple of the most beautiful woman in the world, his rock and foundation, still sleeping peacefully. Shuffling down the hall, his Saturday routine included surprising his son in the nursery. He could already hear the joyous noise of faint cooing as he approached the door; nothing warmed his heart more than that sound.

Liam begins to sob uncontrollably as he falls listlessly onto his side, the cold concrete floor having no effect on him. The flashes of his son's large smile as he entered the nursery this morning, playing repeatedly like a cruel joke in his troubled mind.

Bastien sat on the floor across from him, two guards stood, heavily armed at the doorway, ready and willing to die for their King. All was quiet and still, except the whimpers of unimaginable pain that escaped Liam's lips and echoed throughout. Bastien knew there were no words to make any of this easier; a country abliterated was one thing, to feel the horror of your wife and baby's absence was another. If there was a way to make decisions, fight back and regain control, it would have to wait; Liam was present physically, but, emotionally he was a fucking mess.

Bastien clutched his communication device, making another attempt to speak with anyone in the outside world, to no avail. He tried to stop himself, yet, his thoughts meandered to the Queen and the young Prince in Valtoria, getting ready for the Lantern Lighting Festival that was scheduled for tomorrow. Riley had left with Nikolas after breakfast this morning, she was like....no...she is like a daughter to me. Bastien swallows hard in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. Getting the initial reports of the destruction on Valtoria was a huge blow, then having to share that news with Liam as Auvernese Forces were approaching the palace, was the most gut wrenching thing he had ever done. If Queen Amalas had not insisted on meeting with Liam this afternoon, he too, would have succumbed to the carnage.

Most of the court was staying in Valtoria in preparation for tomorrow's events. This attack, by Bradshaw, may have effectively eliminated the Cordonian royal line of succession. In his head, Bastien calculated the destruction of the nobility, Olivia, Bertrand, Maxwell, Hakim, Adelaide, Emmaline.....then there was, Drake. Bastien quickly shook his head of this distressing realization; he had to remain focused, he couldn't allow his mind to go there....not yet.

Hours passed before Liam's tears finally ran dry and his cries drifted away. Sleep was not an option, although, it would provide some solace. As the stage of denial and grief shifted, anger was the only emotion he could muster.

Liam pushed himself off the dusty floor, his body so weak from despair and a heavy dose of alcohol, he had to catch himself from falling over. His shouts of curses and rage bounced off the walls of the safe room, his hands sweeping clear a table of supplies.

Bastien watched with a careful eye as the King completely came undone, if he thought for one minute he could stop him, he would, but what was there to do?

Bastien hung his head low, the anguish was too much to witness, even for someone like himself, trained to ignore the emotional aspect of his job. He didn't understand exactly what Liam was dealing with, yet, his imagination took him to a very dark place.

*********

10:15 PM Valtoria

Drake pillaged through the massive rubble of a local dining establishment. A nearby fire from the explosion, lighting his recovery efforts. The blood that poured from the gash in his scalp, had seeped into his eyes, causing his vision to blur and sting. His brute strength was doubled by pure adrenaline and fear, as he lifted heavy beams and sheet rock.

A river of red flowed by his feet and his heart pounded; Drake was never one to pray, but, as he moved a large piece of ceiling, he did just that. The mangled body was almost indescernable, but, the waiter uniform was sadly, a relief for him.

"Beaumont!.....Brooks!....Olivia!.....can you all hear me?".

Everything happened in slow motion, he last recalled the drinks, laughing, the witty banter between he and Olivia. He remembers Brooks calling the nanny to check on the baby, when she heard shouting and gunshots in the background. As she rose in panic to her feet, a sudden blast occurred that collapsed the building, scattering his friends to who knows where.

Drake removed his shirt and held it to his wounded head; he wasn't prepared to give up, but, didn't know where to start looking. He decided that anything he did was better than nothing.

His eyes suddenly shift behind him as a pile of debris begins to erupt; he steadily makes his way to it, assisting whomever was buried underneath. "Maxwell? Is that you?", Drake yelled out.

With a weakened voice, "Yeah....I'm stuck under something....I can't...I can't move it".

Drake sighs out in relief, knowing that at least one of friends was alive and accounted for. "Don't worry....I'm going to get you out okay? Just hang tight".

He works diligently as he clears the pile until he is able to see Maxwell, his legs trapped under a wooden beam and covered in blood from broken glass and splinters. Another patron, who was able to free himself, helped Drake lift the broken beam from Maxwell and pull him out to safety.

"Maxwell....do you have any idea where Brooks is at?".

Maxwell's sad eyes darted to a point ten feet away and he gestures in that direction, "She was thrown over there."

Drake and the other man step carefully to the location Maxwell pointed out and began cautiously clearing it away. Within minutes, much to his horror, Mara's lifeless body was discovered, and under her, the Queen of Cordonia. Drake immediatly dropped to his knees, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach, "Oh, Brooks".

*********

3:00 AM-Monaco

Princess Marguerite is awakened from her peaceful slumber. She eagerly gathers her robe and hustles to her bedroom door; once open, her eyes immediatly light up at the servant waiting for her.

With anticipation, she holds her arms out. Once satisfied, with the delivery, she dismisses her servant and closes the door.

She gently walks to the other side of her room; sitting on the edge of the bed.

She bounces the baby boy on her knees and smiles at his sleepy face, before speaking to him in baby talk "your daddy and mommy are not going to be happy about this.....oh no, no, no, they're not". After a brief pause, she chuckles to herself, "what am I saying...they're both dead....they'll never even know, you're my little boy now".

#trr liam #trr fanfic #liam x riley #liam x mc #trh #the royal heir #choices trh #trr #the royal romance #choices trr

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silentwhispofhope · 6 years ago

Text

Paroxyism (Leon Kennedy X Reader) Part 5

Last Chapter <> Next Chapter

"Let's keep going," Leon told you.

Nodding in agreement, you followed after him towards a taped up electric box. You watched as he pulled out the knife you had used earlier. He placed it through a small gap and slid it through the duct tape like butter. Leon swung the door open and pulled down on the latch. The red light turned green with a small beep. Nothing happened at first, but soon the room was filled with a loud clanking noise. You took a step back as the gate began to move upwards.

Your hand instinctively went to your gun.

As the gate reached halfway, you heard Leon mutter to himself. "This is not how I imagined my first day..."

You had to silently agree with him. Yours consisted of filing paperwork for the older forensic scientists. It was only a week ago that you were given permission to go on you first crime scene. At least this more interesting than reports, but you kept that thought to yourself.

Leon ducked his head under the gate as it continued to move upwards. You followed after him, holding you gun out. You watched as the blonde suddenly stop. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked towards him. In his hands he carried a box full of ammo. The strange part was that you immediately recognized it to be sniper bullets. Picking up one from the box, you analyzed it quickly to reaffirm yourself.

"That's sniper ammunition," you remarked, handing the one bullet to Leon for him to look at.

"Maybe there's one in the safety deposit room?" He replied and mentioned something about seeing a map earlier.

"Maybe."

"If it's alright with you, I'll hold onto this."

"Sure," You shrugged.

You were starting to run out of room on your utility belt. As Leon went to tuck them away, a plant out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Approaching it, you crouched onto the ground. You pressed you fingers across the thin, green leafs. It was herb local to the area.

"(F/N)? Did you find something?" Leon called out.

"Yeah, just hold on for a sec," you quickly replied. Picking some leaves from their narrow branches, you piled them into your hands. You turned back towards the blond. "They're herbs. We can use them for healing injuries. They help speed the process up."

"How do you know this?" He asked as he picked several leafs up, analyzing them.

"It's something I learned in college. Say a body was moved from the original site, you could look at plants or bugs that may have been tracked onto the body. It helps you determine where the body was moved from," you pointed out. "If I remember correctly, there's two other herbs like this one around this area. I believe the blue one is used to cure poisons, and the red one is used to amplify the effects of others."

"So the red herb can't be used by itself?"

"Right."

Leon glanced between your hands and his before grabbing several more leafs. You let out a small chuckle. He was right in doing so though. Who knew what the two of you were up against.

"You're really smart, you know that?"

"Thanks, but it's really just a matter of memorization," you belittled yourself.

"Less talking, more exploring," Branagh yelled in the distance. Leon and you shared a look. Man was he persistent.

"You heard the Lieutenant," Leon replied.

Placing the herbs in your last pocket, you navigated towards the closed, wooden door nearby . You glanced back at Leon who gave you a nod in approval. Slowly opening the door, you let him advance in front of you. Grabbing your flashlight, you flicked it on and placed it under your dominant hand. As you began to walk, the door squeaked close behind you. It faintly smelled of rotting corpses, but you knew it would grow stronger the deeper the two of you went into the station. The both of continued down the hall when suddenly a noise erupted at corner.

"This is 73-Bird — for rescue. — heading east — River," the radio reported.

Large parts of it audio kept on being cut off. You followed behind Leon, aiming your flashlight at the man slumped in the corner. Leon crouched down and pressed his hand against the corpse's forehead. You kept your flashlight on him as he began to slowly lift the cop's head. Soon, glazed-over eyes peered at you. You felt sick to your stomach looking at the large tear in the man's face. This felt different from different from all the other dead bodies you have seen before. His lower jaw hung from its dislocated place, hanging only by several loose strands of tissue. The sound of wet flesh echoed in the air.

"Oh... Oh what the fuck!" Leon exclaimed.

Before the both of you could process the sight anymore, the sound of a rolling can came from another hallway. It was almost unheard due to radio.

"Huh? What?" You muttered as you turned towards it. Your flashlight moved with you and peered down the hallway. Following the light with your eyes, you saw another police officer dead. The only difference this time was that the man was hanging from the ceiling from a piping jutting though his mouth. Blood was scattered on the officer's hands as he dangled. Questions raced through your mind. How did he get up there? What put him up there? "Oh my god."

Leon gazed at the sight and simply knit his eyebrows in response. He tugged on your hoodie as he pulled his gun. You realized the sound from earlier had to be caused by something. You both stood up from your crouched positions and steadily made you way down the hall. Carefully, you went around the hanging body, avoiding being touched by it. Leon followed suit on the other side. As the two of you stepped passed it, the officer fell from the ceiling. Jumping slightly from the scare, you felt your heart race out of your chest. The pipe must not have been able to hold that weight. Leon appeared barely phased by the sight, or if he was, he was really good at hiding it. He ushered you to keep moving, and you began to lengthen your stride.

A small, cold breeze filled the hall. The two of you soon approached a broken window at the turn of the hall. You carefully listened for any abnormal sounds before poking you head through. Few zombies littered the outside. Turning your head right, you noticed a zombie sticking awfully close to another window further down. It was like it was waiting for something. You watched as it went to move around the corner. Leaning away, you quietly whispered what you saw to Leon. He nodded his head in response, and you heard the click of safety switch come from him.

You both slowed your pace as you continued to move. Flashing your light at the next window, you lightly pressed your index finger on the trigger. As the two of you neared it, the zombie from earlier slammed into the glass. It let out a shriek as it began to hit the glass. Quickly pressing the switch, two shot rang in the area. The window shattered as two bullets struck the dead woman in the head. It stood still for a moment before falling backwards. You took a step back as several monstrous groans broke the momentary silence. Leon glanced around the corner.

"The hallway's blocked," he quietly told you, turning to look at you. "There's a room we can cut through."

"Lead the way," you replied softly.

Double checking the hall, Leon signaled for you to go. The two of you rushed down the corridor. The blond pulled the door open with enough room for you to slip in. As he shut the door, you took the chance to look around. The floor was decorated with alternating blank and white tiles, and several papers laid scattered across it. Spotting the other door, you went to pull it open, but you saw a large metal chain holding it shut.

"We need a bolt cutter," you muttered. As you turned around, you noticed Leon pick up something.

"September 25th. We're turning the station into a temporary shelter due to the massive, sudden outbreak. All police personnel have been instructed to make the safety of the citizens their top priority as we try to accommodate as many as possible. September 25th addendum. One of the refugees attacked us in the middle of the night, resulting in the death in one officer and three citizens. The person in question was quickly restrained. We believe this was simply a case of someone snapping under intense stress. September 26th. A min attacked the station today, resulting in a number of casualties. A few survivors were able to make it safely behind the emergency shutters, but surrounded as we are, it'll be hard for any of us to escape this place. We're not sure we can fix any of the comm equipment so we remain cut off from the rest of the world. September 27. There was another clash on the west side of the station around one pm. Twelve people died, and there is only a handful of survivors left. Everything is falling into disarray here. David Ford." Leon read out loud. You could feel the guilt roll off him. You had to admit, you felt some too. However, the two of you needed to keep moving.

"Hey, we're here now. If we meet any survivors, we'll lead them out of here." Leon looked at you softly. "Okay?"

A large surge of banging on the doors tore your attention away from the rookie cop. Glancing to your right, you spotted a broken window above a stack of crates.

"There," You pointed out.

Leon noticed where you were looking as the banging began to get louder. Following him, you lifted yourself onto the crates. You watched him pull himself through the opening. Leon briefly flashed his light down the hall to see a zombie repeatedly banging his head on a vending machine. He swore under his breath. As you began to pull yourself up, the doors bursted open. The zombie from before quickly staggered towards you. Guess two shots wasn't enough to kill it.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you repeated to yourself.

Tumbling through the window, Leon caught you with a grunt. Before you could say anything, he held a finger to his lips and pointed towards the zombie. He softly set you down on your feet and pulled out the knife. Leon held his hand out and signaled for you not to move. Staying still, you watched as he flipped the knife around with his fingers. He quietly snuck around the creature and struck the knife through its head. Leon pulled the knife out and carefully set the corpse onto the ground. He jogged back towards you.

"The safety deposit room should be around here," Leon spoke. You moved your flashlight to the two doors on your sides.

"I'm gonna guess it's the one with the metal door," you quipped as you began to walk towards it.

You found your instinct to be correct when you entered the room full of locked lockers. Your eyes squinted at the light. Leon followed behind. Walking to the keypad in front of you, you noticed the numbers two and three were missing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leon walk down the rows of lockers.

"Anything interesting?" You asked as you continued to analyze the keypad. Maybe you could pry off one of the other buttons and use that?

"There's a shot gun, but the case is locked. We need a key card to open it," he paused for a moment. "Can you check the desk near you?"

"Sure," You replied and move your attention towards. Only a sheet of paper laid on top, so you decided to search through the drawer. "Nothing. It must be somewhere else in the building. Is there anything from the lockers we should grab? Anything that doesn't have a two or three in it?"

"109 and 106."

You let out a hum in acknowledgement, and quickly typed the two numbers in. Two beeps sounded and you heard the lockers unlocked. Walking towards Leon, you asked what he had found.

"More bullets, but I there was a film roll in one of them," he told you, handing it to you.

"It's undeveloped. Is there a red room here?" You inquired.

"Yeah, around the corner."

You thought to yourself. "We'll split up."

"What? (F/N)? No! It'll be safer if we stick together!"

"While that may be true, we need to find the rest of the medallions faster. The longer we stay in this city, the more likely we could turn into one of those things wondering the place. The photo in this could lead us to something!"

Leon let out a huff in annoyance. "Look, if you're that worried about me, I'll develop the film and head straight back to the main hall. I'll wait for you, okay?"

You rested your hand on his shoulder and tilted your head, giving him a small smile. A faint blush dusted his cheeks.

"Fine," he replied. As you were about to walk out the door, he stopped you. "Stay safe, please."

You saw the concern in his eyes. "Of course, Leon. I'll see you later."

You gave him a cheeky smile before leaving the room. Tucking the film into a jean pocket, you pulled out your flashlight and handgun. The light flickered on as you turned the corner. Moonlight streamed in from a window at the end. You saw one of those creatures banging on the glass. Realizing what would happen, you sprinted down the hall and searched for something that could block the window. Quickly, you spotted several blanks of wood near a staircase. You grabbed them and rushed back towards it. Nailing the planks to the trimming, you let out a sigh of relief as the zombie failed at trying to get in.

Walking back to where you saw the planks, you noticed a familiar green plant. After picking some of the leaves, you turned towards the door behind you. You peered inside and were met with silence. Closing the door, you checked the room to find it empty. No zombies in here. You flicked your flashlight to the wall ahead of you, a faint red-glowing button in the center. Pressing it down, the button turned green and a the humming electricity met your ears. Several second later, lights flickered on. The sign on the wall read DARKROOM. You entered the joining room and placed everything in your hands away. Grabbing the film roll, you gingerly took it out of its container and set it into the liquid. It would at least take an hour to develop. As you waited, you took a chance to catch your breath. You glanced at the pinkish plant on the counter. It took you a second to figure out that it was actually the red herb you told Leon about. Your mind began to trail off to Leon. You had to admit, he was pretty cute. His faint freckles were adorable. When he held you in his arms, you felt safe. You shook your head. This isn't the time for romance. Picking the leaves of the herbs, you began to pull them apart. You did the same with the green ones. After mixing them into a pile, you began searching for a small bag. It didn't take long before you found one in a drawer. Sliding the herbs into it, you took the chance to look at the photo. Surprisingly, it was already done developing. Strange, you thought to yourself. You decided to ignore yourself and see what the photo was. In it stood a stone statue holding a scepter and a book in its hands. Thinking back to the notebook, it didn't match the drawings. Maybe it held something like the other statues?

After realizing that you had spent enough time in the dark room, you exited. You quickly retraced your steps back to the main hall, dodging zombies along the way. When you reentered the reception area, you flicked off you flashlight.

"Leon? (L/N)?" You heard Branagh called out.

"Hold on!" You yelled as you rushed towards him. "Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

You ran towards the statue to find him in the place you left him.

"Same as before. Come here," he told you, holding out a laptop. He let out a groan of pain. He sounded worse. On the computer, a camera feed showed a girl in a red jacket waiting outside a fence. "Do you know her?"

"No. I've never seen her before," you replied. "Maybe Leon knows who she is?"

"Good idea." He turned towards the radio on his chest. "Leon. It's Marvin. I need you back here ASAP."

"Are you okay, Marvin?" Leon's voice answer. You felt an unknown weight lift from your shoulders. It was good hearing his voice again.

"I've got something to show you. It's important."

"Copy that. I'll be right there."

~~~

A/N: Almost 3,000 words you guys! You all will get to meet a very important character next chapter. Also, there's this really cool song I found called Higher by Prymo. One of my best friends wrote the lyrics. I don't know if you guys will listen to it, but I thought I should let you know.

Tag List: @katnisspeetaprim @winksasleeplesseye @kaelyn-lobrutto24

#leon kennedy x reader #reader insert #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy imagine #x reader #action #adventure #horror #cops #zombie apocalypse #zombies

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sohaveyoubeento-blog · 5 years ago

Text

V is for Vietnamese & Vintage

Us three ladies had always played it pretty safe by way of our lunch dates. Not to say the local deli isn't absolutely kick ass - it's very tasty and very enjoyable every time we go, but in much the same way as I struggle to go to the same country more than once on my holidays (excluding India, you can never have enough India) I couldn't help but think that life's a bit too short to sit in the same eatery every time we meet for lunch, given that the whole day is ours, and within reason, travel is no issue.

The three of us decided that we would try different cuisines every week, and with the girls (Laura and Dani) living in the quieter, leafier suburbs of Otley and Burley in Wharfedale, with me (Alex) living in what I frequently describe as the bronx, 5 minutes from central Leeds but gloriously populated by some of the best food joints in the country (confirmed) they usually end up meeting at mine and then we go into town to try somewhere a bit off the beaten track. Invariably, being three mums of young children, we eat at the speed of rabid dogs and end up having a bit of time to go explore some local weird shop or two, never anything mainstream like a department store. Oh no. We like vintage shops. You know the type, they smell like damp and the inside of your nan's wardrobe, and we prance around pretending to overlook the fact that we are just in a well laid out, slightly more selective charity shop without the undertone of giving. Usually there's some blue haired student with a headscarf and a faint stench of Bobby Orange pawing through piles of shirts and jumpers that are deemed as retro, when they've actually some of them originated in C&A - we remember that place the first time round,depressingly. The whole vintage scene is a bit ironic and try hard and a bit sad at times, but the one thing that it does offer is the piece you are often looking at, generally is one of one only in the store. The same goes for charity shops, generally. We like stuff that can't be bought in bulk.

Dani owns Deluxe Blooms, and is a luxury faux florist, and very good at it too. Laura is a nail technician and spray tanning afficionado, and the owner of Maibella Nails and Tanning. I own a salon called Lexa Hair, and the three of us work together frequently. The ridiculous thing is though, that work is going really well for us, and while in the past we may have dug around in charity shops for a bargain simply to be economical, now it has begun more of a habit. And you know what they say, old habits die hard. We don't have to eat streetfood on picnic tables anymore, and we can shop anywhere we want, but at least just for me, I don't like extravagance and I'm not impressed by labels or price tags. I like pieces that are unique,with a story behind them. My two accomplices sort of get dragged in to it I think, but they seem on board with most of it. I hope.

And street food is the best food on earth, everyone knows that.

We kicked things off with a visit to a fairly new (maybe a year old I think) Vietnamese place on North Lane in Headingley named VietBaker. Inside it's very wooden looking, quite industrial and urban, stained wood everywhere and dark red leather chairs. It smells like the rice cooker that's chugging away in the corner, mixed with plenty of garlic and of course, the fresh baguettes that are stacked up in a glass cabinet above the front desk.

We opted for a sharing platter for £9, and from the menu us Yorkshire ruffians requested spring rolls (the deep fried ones, not the fresh, healthy ones obviously), prawn toast, and 'rustic chips'.

This was skin on chips with salt and pepper (well cooked and so tasty) and the prawn toast was understandably made of baguette slices. It made for a much heavier slab of prawn toast and therefore an even more unhealthy treat but man alive, was it good. The spring rolls were pork, prawn and the usual crispy vegetables inside. Not floppy or soggy, totally crispy and served with a really light and watery sweet chilli dip that's more sweet than chilli. It was all very lovely.

I've personally eaten from here a number of times and I think the Vietnamese have got it absolutely nailed when they make sandwich. Or a Ban Mih. Laura and I opted for one each, chicken for her and pork for me. Dani went for something off the new part of the menu, the fusion section, which even featured a take on beef bourgignon, Vietnamese style. She tried the Shanghai pork belly, served with rice. Her whole bowl was piled high, and we're not talking a polite, peanuts size bowl. More like a ‘free ceramic crunchy nut cereal box’ bowl, with the with tokens on the back of the pack, that you’d send off as a kid. It was huge. The second bowl was just plain rice, which worked really well as the pork alone was…. alot. It was sticky and tangy and rich and all those other wanky words that just mean amazing. I'm trying so hard to limit the wankiness. I like writing and eating, combining the two is hard work though. Bear with me. The slow cooked pork made me feel a bit gutted I went for a sandwich until I got stuck in.

Vietnam was a former French colony, and much like their neighbour Cambodia, found their local best offerings being bastardised to accomodate the 'local palate'. The nice version is that the baguette was the French's gift to the Vietnamese, although I imagine it was more a case of 'put your lovely meal in my baguette for me or you're in deep shit.'

I've never been to Vietnam but having visited Cambodge a few summers back, I remember being astounded at the gorgeous, light, dairy free Asian cuisine that had been shoved in a crusty, warm baguette. Whoever's story was true, it's the absolute bollocks.

They cut this freshly baked baguette open and spread it with patè on one side and on the other mayonnaise (already weird but hang in there) - add a ton of crispy green leaves, cucumber, pickles, coriander and fresh chilies, and add some meat into what little room is left. Enough meat to give you meat sweats. It. Is. Superb.

The pork was very finely sliced, dark and sticky again (here she goes) and you can bang on a fried egg, too, if you're an absolute wrong un. No thanks.

Laura had the chicken which was a milder flavour but none the less tasty and flavoursome. I noticed Laura pulling bits off her sandwich and delicately chewing away at them, while I picked it up and ate it like I'd been sleeping in the dark arches for the last month. I even had to be asked to wipe my face. Sorry, not sorry. No messing with a Ban Mih. Especially not this one.

The bill was a very respectable £11 a head, and they threw in a free set of spring rolls for us, which was a nice unexpected surprise. The place had a steady flow of traffic, and although wasn't packed, I've been on an evening and I think it's safe to assume that's the bulk of their trade. It was fantastic food, very reasonable and highly recommended. Great staff and great location. We'll be back!

Afterwards we drove for about 3 days to find a parking spot anywhere near Hyde Park, so we could check out the newly (ish) renovated (OK sign replaced and possibly ownership changed) Vintage something or other in Hyde Park.

I forget the name, and if I'm brutally honest I can see why. It's alright, but it used to be alot better. The last time I went in there was alot of very old apothecary style wooden drawer units, some weird taxidermy, and unusual pictures in frames that would look incredible in the lounge. This time there was quite a bit of formica, and some hideously orange stained TV units that I guess in some context would be deemed as cool again.

The music collection seemed to be where the most effort had been made. The clothing was actually quite 'quirky' in the sense that you wouldn't actually wear alot of it, there was a whole department that seemed to have been handed over by the owner of the late knob head Jimmy Saville, shell suit after shell suit in every colour of the rainbow, in that non breathable fabric you'd get a two man tent in. Hideous. Still, there are some absolute finds in there. I would encourage people to bear in mind that these shops have a high stock turnaround and in their uniqueness, and ability to replace items based on sales, any vintage shop can be a complete bag of shite one week and a total gold mine the next. Its the luck of the drawer, I love that about them. That and the fact that we call them vintage shops. The three of us refer to them as shit shops, but potato patato.

I find it depressing that as I mentioned before, alot of the 'retro' stuff is just normal stuff we, in our 30s, encountered in our youth. There was a 'vintage phone' that was £15 and I'm pretty sure my gran has it now. It's literally a BT £10 phone still in argos, but clearly it had lived with a heavy smoker, adding to the aged facade.

Some of it was very authentic, some of it was broken crap, but the general feel of the place is a good one. There is more 70s stuff than anything else which is quite cool, but like I say, stock changes very frequently. Dani bought an oversized T shirt with a University football team logo emblazoned across it, and to be honest I would have too. There was a vast array of university related large varsity based sweaters, some unnecessarily cut in half width ways (why?!!!! Serves no purpose now, you fools) and that's the kind of thing I would have liked to look at. But as I was in charge of a one year old who was bombing around the floor, doubling as a human sweeping brush and coming back with more dust on him than the inside of the V6 after the attic stairs have been tackled, I gave it up as a bad job and put my bank card back away. No spending for mum today. Gutted.

The shop is pretty fabulous, on the whole. They do know how to charge when it comes to furniture, but the clothing is far more reasonable. It's not all one off pieces, a couple of items make an appearance a few times and that kind of ruins it for me, I start picturing some huge factory in China making hideously outdated clothing and leaving them in a damp garage for a few years, chucking a bit of tea down them and wearing the cuffs and collars down, before exporting the newly knackered pieces to us dumbasses in our 'quirky vintage shops'. Who knows. It's well laid out, and pretty cool, and although not my favourite, I imagine the next time I go it'll be a whole different experience. Swings and roundabouts with these places. It was an interesting look, and if Parker hadn't been doing his best ferret impression I would have definitely bought a jumper. Well worth a look.

Until next week!

Laura, Dani and Alex X

VietBaker, Headingley

https://www.thevietbaker.co.uk

Vintage Boutique, Hyde Park

https://vintageboutique.com

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