An on and off aspiring writer who has been struggling with motivation and inspiration, but spends a lot of time daydreaming about my favourite characters from books, games, and shows.
In an effort to re-inspire myself, Iβve done a complete redesign of my blog and will now keep all of my fan-fiction in one place.
The things Iβll write will reflect my mood or current obsession, so you may come across fandoms you recognize, and others you donβt. The links below will direct you to what youβre looking for.
As I am an adult, some content may not be suitable for viewers below the age of 18. I will uphold my responsibility as a creator to label my work properly, but at the end of the day, it is on you as the viewer to heed those warnings.
Welcome to the blueberry garden, where every berry is a new dream~
Anime
Books
Games
TV Shows
*The dividers I use were made by @firefly-graphics*
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Iβm sure we can all imagine Valko being our safe place. But have you ever thought about being his?
Itβs late. The sun has long set, a full moon visable just outside the window. You are laying across the couch, propped up slightly by the armrest, with Valko laying on top of you.
Heβs heavy, all that muscle nearly dead weight, his head tucked beneath your chin. Heβs asleep, his breaths slow and rhythmic, tickling your skin. His arms rest on either side of you, one of your hands idly stroking the short hairs of his undercut while the other draws mindless patterns between his shoulder blades.
With how strong and capable he is, itβs hard to imagine protecting him the same way he protects you. But, these quiet moments where his guard is down completely, tells you all that needs to be said about where he feels safest.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, you turn to the full length mirror and adjust the blue shirt hugging your top. βWhat about this one?β
You see Valko in the reflection of the glass, sitting on the plush couch, one arm resting across the top of the backrest while the other holds his cellphone, thumb tapping away at the screen. You wait one second. Two. Then turn to face him with your hands on your hips, and clear your throat.
He looks up, eyes trailing from your head down to your toes. βIt looks good.β
Just βgoodβ?
βIβm putting it back.β You say, stepping behind the curtain once more and pulling it shut.
Valko groans from the other side, realizing his error too late. βNo, I meant- You look very nice, love. Please buy the shirt.β
A wicked grin touches your lips. Itβs too easy to bust this manβs balls.
Summer is in full swing. The sun beats down on the back of your neck, the waves gently roll onto the warm sand before receding back, and the beach is a blur of activity.
You thank the man who hands you an ice cream cone and turn away from the cart, starting the walk back to where your towel and umbrella have been set up.
You only manage to get a few licks in before someone tall leans in over your shoulder and takes a big mouthful of your treat. βHey! Valko!β
The wolf straightens up with a grin, sharp canines flashing as he swipes his tongue over his lips. βDelicious.β
You huff, cheeks puffing out, but thereβs no real anger behind it. βI didnβt buy this for you.β
The gold in his eyes shines with amusement. Without warning, he leans in again, but not for the ice cream. Instead, his target is the small bead of vanilla clinging to your lower lip.
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Imagine how good of a gossip buddy Valko would be:
You stroll into Valkoβs lab with the same ease you have entering your own home. Despite the size of the place, you find him instantly.
Dropping into one of the rolling chairs, you scoot over to him and give him a look. You know, that look, the one that says βI have some tea and the kettle is whistling.β
Immediately, Valko stops whatever heβs working on and leans back in his own chair, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. He isnβt smiling, but that gleam in his eyes is there. βSpill it.β
And so you start talking. He eats up every word.
By the time you finish, a small smirk pulls at his lips, revealing one of his sharper than human canines. βI knew it. Wanna hear what I found out yesterday?β
The front door slams open, crashing against the wall as you bolt outside barefoot. Heart in your throat, you race down the driveway, onto the sidewalk, and race for the tall figure walking away.
βDonβt go!β The cry leaves your lips as your arms lock tightly around his waist.
Valko stops, tenses. Then his shoulders drop, the wolf ears atop his head drooping to the side. βThatβs not up to me, love.β
Tears stream down your face, soaking the back of his muscle shirt. Your grip around his waist tightens. βBut I just started falling in love with you.β
βI know.β He says, his voice low. Quiet. βI wish I could have had the chance to start loving you, too.β
A hiccup bursts from your lips. βPlease stay.β
Valko tips his head back, looking up at the orange sky. If there is someone higher up watching the lines of fate, he hopes theyβll grant her wish.
Itβs late. The house is quiet, the air conditioner is working hard to keep the summer heat out, and your pillow has been flipped to the cold side beneath your head.
Youβre starting to drift. Awareness slips from your mind, activity relinquishes its grip on your bones. Your body is gradually sinking into the purest form of relaxation.
Thatβs when Valko slips through the window you left open for him. He makes noise on purpose, not enough to startle you, only to announce his presence. The window closes with a soft thud, the latch clicks into place.
A pause, and then the other side of the bed dips. Another pause, something shuffles, and then the mattress dips more. Warmth surrounds you, strength at your back and security finding its way around your middle. His head presses into the space between your chin and shoulder, broad chest expanding as he breathes you in.
βMine.β You can imagine his instincts saying.
With a quiet hum of acknowledgement, your cheek nuzzles deeper into the pillow while your body pushes back against him, seeking out his presence. You start drifting again, the steady rise and fall of Valkoβs chest pressed up against you a source of grounding, the accompanying breaths tickling your skin soothing in a way one would never think.
Sleepy, your hand finds his. Fingers intertwine, then the back of his hand is given a home cradled against your chest. Dreams claim you psychologically, but itβs Valkoβs physical claim that keeps you safe enough for dreams to have their chance.
But even so, your dreams are filled with forests and golden eyes, a melody of howls serenading the mist.
Iβve been away for a little bit, both from Tumblr and Love and Deepspace, but I need to responsibly vent for a minute.
Iβve stepped away from LADS for a while; I just havenβt been wanting to play. I still love the game, I just was burnt out on it. I am not ashamed to say that Valkoβs release has brought me back; itβs someone new to get to know, and I very much like what I see so far.
Ever since the hassle that came out with Calebβs release, I have removed myself from the LADS fandom as much as possible. I exist in a happy corner where I enjoy my collection of pixelated husbands. As hard as I am trying, I cannot seem to escape this second round of toxicity from the fandom following Valkoβs announcement.
There are two major things I want to touch on.
1. If Valko is not your type, thatβs okay. You donβt have to be in love with every LI in this game. Iβm not Zayneβs biggest fan, but I respectfully go through his content when I must to progress and otherwise keep my mouth shut. Iβm not going to trample on the Zayne girlieβs happiness just because I donβt vibe with him. Let Valko and the people who love him enjoy his release.
2. As a Sylus and Caleb girlie, I understand the desire to want more of the content they still donβt have. That being said, Iβve never had an issue with patience. Maybe itβs because I firmly believe thereβs main story content that has to be put out first before their second bond stories come out so it makes sense, but Iβve never doubted that thereβs a process in place.
Just this past livestream for version 6, they announced that Caleb and Sylus have new chapters in the works. I honestly think they only revealed it this early to ease the fan basesβ minds because of all the complaints going around. And I am left baffled that people are still complaining because the devs havenβt given us an official release date for that content.
Xavier and Rafayel got their main story update not too long ago. Valkoβs chapter is being released on July 9th. Itβs probably going to be another wait for Caleb and Sylus to get their update - thatβs just the reality.
My biggest problems with the fanbase is the lack of patience for the devs and disrespect towards each other. I canβt imagine coding a game of this scale is easy. Love and Deepspace tells the story of multiple characters. Patience is part of the game.
As for the disrespect towards each other over a set of hot pixels? That is immaturity I refuse to share my mental space with.
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An original fan-fiction for Resident Evil. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.
6k words (est. 30 minutes)
Rain beats down on the Jeepβs roof, splatters against the windshield, yet remains drowned out by the music blasting inside. Itβs late, the downpour only making the sky darker. The Jeepβs headlights are the only two points of light on the road. Have been for quite some time.
Behind the wheel sits Leon S. Kennedy, a handsome young man fresh from police academy. He was hired by the Raccoon City Police Department rather quickly, and was set to start last week. Then the phone call came, the one that told him not to come. Leon figured some kind of emergency came up and his orientation had to be put on hold. Understandable; police exist to handle emergencies.
But no one has called back since, nor has he been able to get through to them. So now, heβs taking it upon himself to pay the R.P.D a visit.
Both hands relaxed on the wheel, Leon spares a glance from the road to check on the woman sitting in the passenger seat. She fell asleep with her head resting against the window an hour ago, and still dozes despite the music meant to keep him awake.
Leon scoffs quietly, but the sound is full of mirth. He shakes his head, lips quirking into a faint grin. βBad feeling my ass.β
She wouldnβt be sleeping if her stomach was truly in knots.
He jokes, but Leon hasnβt dismissed her worries. Not completely. If thereβs one thing heβs slowly been learning about Naeya Vreen over the past two years, itβs that she really does have a knack for sensing things most people canβt. Itβs just that, even two years in, itβs still hard to fully accept and rationalize that psychic mediums run in her family. Naeyaβs mother and grandmother make their living off of it, hold appointments daily to the public. Naeya, on the other hand, is much more private about it.
Leon met Naeya while completing his diploma in Police Foundations. She was also taking the course, but instead of becoming an officer, Naeya had her sights sent on private investigations. She works for herself, and has spent the last few months taking small cases to start building her reputation. A few days ago, someone reached out with concern about their inability to contact a family member living in Raccoon City. The more Naeya dug, the more cases of similar nature she found.
That is why Leon canβt bring himself to dismiss her bad feeling. He canβt contact the R.P.D, and the citizens of Raccoon City are out of touch as well. βCoincidenceβ isnβt the right word.
A gas station comes up on the right side of the highway, and Leon pulls in to refill the tank. Naeya doesnβt stir as he turns off the engine and gets out. He pops the cap off the side of the Jeep and inserts the nozzle, taking a look around as he waits for the pump to fill. The sign above the store at the back of the lot reads βMizoilβ, and the only other car around is a black and white police cruiser pulled up to the front door. The lights arenβt flashing, and both driver and passenger doors have been left wide open, as if the officers didnβt have time to close them before rushing inside.
The silence thatβs settled over the lot feels weighted. Itβs not the kind of silence that belongs to a place simply being vacant for this hour of night, but rather, to a place thatβs been deserted for a reason. And in this silence, a crash can be heard from inside the store. At this distance, itβs quiet. Would have been missed entirely if the rain poured any harder.
Leon returns the hose to the pump and slowly moves around the front of the Jeep. There, splattered on the concrete in a splotchy trail that leads into the store, is blood being slowly washed away.
The type of professional calm Leon has been practicing in police academy settles over him as he follows the blood to the front door. The lights in the store are out, but a small flashlight that looks to have belonged to one of the officers has been dropped just inside the entrance. He picks it up, and moves deeper in. Towards the sound of a struggle.
A red field stretches before Naeya. Not stained red, but one thatβs grown naturally. The grass doesnβt make a sound as it bends beneath her combat boots, no breeze to rustle the tiny blades. Itβs unnaturally, suffocatingly silent. That is, until, something groans behind her. The sound itself seems to rumble against the back of her neck, scratchy and full of pain, a warning of hunger.
Naeya jolts up, hands flying out to find something real to hold onto. Her right grips the handle of the passenger side door, her left slaps the center console. She gasps, heart kicking against her ribs like a thoroughbred racing down a track, eyes wide as they stare out the windshield. Itβs still raining, but the Jeep is no longer moving. Parked for gas, it looks like.
She sighs, part relief, part her bodyβs natural instinct, and turns her head towards the driverβs side. Itβs empty, and thereβs no sign of the man whose vehicle she sits in filling up the tank. He must have gone inside to pay. So she turns to look at the store, hoping to spot him through the windows by chance. But all the lights are off.
Naeyaβs eyes narrow as she tries to rationalize what sheβs seeing. Itβs entirely possible that the downpour has knocked the power out, but if so, the gas pumps wouldnβt be working, and the buttons are still glowing and active. That, and the emergency lights would have turned on, assuming the store had those installed. Either it didnβt, or something knocked those out, too.
She glances at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of herself. Her hair, dark chocolate in colour with the exception of the front piece she dyed ash brown mused from her nap. Her skin has gone from fair to pale, but itβs her eyes that catch her attention. Theyβre the same shade as her hair, but she recognizes the glazed look floating within them. Itβs the same haze sheβs seen in her mother and grandmotherβs eyes whenever their psyche whispered that something was wrong.
Her own whispers the same thing.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, Naeya pushes the Jeepβs door open and climbs out, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her. The parking lot is empty of people, but she hears the voices. Not in her ears, not in her head, not in her heart. She hears them in her very soul, the pained and miserable cries of the dead as they beg for mercy, scream for their end.
Naeya scans her surroundings as she walks swiftly towards the store, pulling the glass door open and stepping into the dark. She steps aside and presses her back against the wall, hiding herself from anything lurking outside, and turns on the tiny flashlight hanging from her keys. The visibility it offers is terrible, but itβs better than being engulfed in shadows.
βLeon?β She calls, minding her volume as she gives the area around her a once over with the flashlight.
Her voice doesnβt carry far, so though the lack of response makes her worry, it isnβt too surprising. He could be closer to the back of the store, or-
Two unmistakable gun shots sound, and Naeyaβs spine stiffens. Her blood freezes. Her lungs stop working. Sheβs not an expert with firearms, but knows enough from her law enforcement courses to have a better understanding than most. As a private investigator, her work keeps her in the background. There isnβt, and shouldnβt be, a need for her to carry a weapon on her.
So she doesnβt have one.
A sound follows the shots, more dull and much closer. Then, thereβs a groan. Low, guttural, pained andβ¦ off, somehow. She canβt quite put her finger on it.
Naeya moves in, her steps light and quiet as she keeps her back against the shelves as much as possible, checking every corner before each turn. There, slumped against the wall near a door that seems to lead to a back room, sits a man. Heβs dressed in a blue shirt and black pants that are splattered with blood, head dipped so far forward his face isnβt visible at the current angle. His skin has turned a sickly shade, not quite pale, not green either.
Naeya doesnβt rush to help him. Not when the man groans that guttural sound again and stirs. The way he moves, starts to rise, isnβt natural. Itβs puppet-like, his body seemingly dead weight but being manipulated by the strings of something sinister. Naeyaβs heart pauses, fear and disbelief joining forces to shut her system down as she watches a corpse come to life. Witnesses the impossible become possible.
Two more gunshots, and blood flies from the manβs head as the bullets hit their mark. He slumps again, dead for good this time.
Naeyaβs head whips in the direction the gun was fired from, but Leon is already moving towards her. She knows him well enough to see the disturbed look beneath his mask of calm. βWe have to go.β
There isnβt time to get a word out. There arenβt words to get out, just shocked silence as Leon grabs her hand with his left, pistol clutched in his right, and hurries towards the exit.
A startled scream rips up Naeyaβs throat as a shelf suddenly falls, taking another walking corpse she hadnβt seen down with it. Her grip tightens around Leonβs hand, and if he hadnβt been holding onto her, she would have bolted.
The glass door swings open just as they reach it. A woman in a red blouse rushes in, brown hair tied back into a ponytail, a gun between her hands. She freezes and lifts her hands in surrender. βDonβt shoot!β
Leon is quick to shove Naeya behind him. βGet down!β
The woman ducks, and Leon fires his gun again. It hits true, the bullet flying through the eye of a manβs corpse before he could attack.
βYou alright?β Leon asks, dragging Naeya with him as he steps outside and does a quick survey for more hostilities.
The woman nods. βYeah, I think so. Thanks.β
βYou can thank me later, when weβre safe.β
Leon jerks his chin forward, and Naeya peers around him. Her stomach sinks lower than it ever has when she spots an entire herd of corpses stumbling towards them. Bodies broken but still moving, flesh torn and rotten, strangled cries that donβt sound human. Theyβre not groans, Naeya realizes, but growls. Alerts to the others like them that theyβve found a meal.
And deep in her psyche, she hears the overlapping voices of the dead again.
βHungry.β
βHelp me. Help me.β
βHungry.β
βPlease, kill me.β
βHungry. Hungry.β
βMERCY!β
βHungry. Humans.β
βHungry.β
βHungry.β
βHungry.β
Naeya jumps with another scream as a corpse slams into the door behind them, its face half torn off yet still able to open and close its jaw while clawing at the glass.
βCome on!β Leon shouts.
Naeyaβs body has never felt fear like this. If not for Leon hauling her along towards the abandoned police car, she might have remained frozen until the herd ripped her apart. It takes a few steps to remember that her legs can move, that her feet can carry her. Then sheβs moving on her own, racing to the door behind the driverβs seat and throwing herself into the back. Leon gets behind the wheel, and the woman, who rushed around the other side of the car, jumps into the passenger seat and slams the door.
Leon wastes no time. He puts the car in reverse, not only backing away from the herd but giving himself room to turn around. Then heβs accelerating, pulling back onto the road and driving as quickly and safely as he can. Mizoil, and the evil that haunts it, disappears into the rearview mirror.
The engine roars as the car races for the city, but after the deadly silence he experienced before the storm, Leon welcomes it.
βWhat the hell is going on?β The woman in red asks, twisting in her seat to look between Leon and Naeya.
βI donβt know. Hopefully theyβll have some answers at the police station.β He replies.
Leon glances in the rearview mirror to check on Naeya. Sheβs paler than usual, eyes wide with terror as she grips the edges of both front seats hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
The womanβs eyes flicker to Leon. βYouβre cops?β
βI am. Sheβs a private investigator.β Leon replies, glancing at the road ahead before setting his eyes on her. βIβm Leon Kennedy. Sheβs-β
βNaeya Vreen.β Naeya finally speaks, but her voice sounds distant, like sheβs somewhere else instead of sitting in the car with them. Shock, most likely.
βClaire Redfield.β The woman introduces herself.
Naeyaβs stare down with the darkness ahead of them breaks as her gaze turns to Claire. βRedfieldβ¦ I had a premonition about you.β
Claire blinks and looks at Leon for help.
He smiles slightly, as if apologizing. βSheβs a psychic medium.β
βI saw you coming.β Naeya continues, void of emotion, and returns to staring out the windshield. βYou, and the evil following you.β
Claire looks caught off guard.
Leon clears his throat, and changes the subject. βDo you live around here?β
βNo, Iβm just looking for my brother. Heβs a cop, too.β Claire replies, looking out the passenger window scope for more danger.
βItβs a good thing we found each other. I donβt know what to expect anymore.β
Quiet falls over them, nothing but the rain and engine to keep the silence away. The headlights catch the green and white sign marking the territory of Raccoon City as the cruiser passes it.
Naeya inhales sharply in the back seat and sits up a little straighter, but she doesnβt say anything. Whatever bad thing sheβs sensing, it must be more of what they already know.
The entire city looks like a dystopia, a graveyard of what it once was. Anywhere else, the skyscrapers and apartments would cast the streets aglow with their millions of lights and nightlife. Here, the streets are lined with cars either abandoned or wrecked, and very few lights are on. Itβs the same as the gas station; not quite a power outage, but dark for some other reason.
Because of the chaos, Leon is forced to slow down and drive more carefully. Itβs not that he has to worry about hitting pedestrians, but the streets are clustered with obstacles ranging from cars and buses to knocked over lamp posts and collapsed traffic lights.
In the midst of it all, the emergency speakers are still active.
βAttention all citizens: Due to the citywide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City police station. Free food and medical supplies will be provided to everyone in need.β
Claire sighs and slumps back against the seat. βOh my god, this is so unreal.β
βThe police stationβs not much farther. Theyβll know something.β Leon replies, sparing another glance at Naeya through the mirror. Sheβs calmed a bit, some colour coming back to her skin, eyes more focused.
Claire swallows. βYeah, but what if weβre the only ones? What if thereβs no survivors-β
He quickly cuts her off. Not just for her own sake, but for Naeyaβs, too. βNo, thereβs survivors. Itβs a big cityβ¦ there has to be.β
Yellow and black roadblocks flash in the cruiserβs headlights. Behind the barricade, a sea of cars with smashed windows and dented framework stretches beyond what the eye can see.
Naeya lets out an unamused huff. βWell, fuck us.β
βLooks like weβre walking from here.β Leon says, shutting the engine off.
Thunder rolls, and in the flickering of a dying lamp post, Claire squints her eyes to make out the figures crouched beneath it. Two corpses are bent over the body of a third, mouths bloody as they feed like animals. βMore like running.β
βYeah, good call- Jesus Christ!β
Everyone jumps as a corpse bangs on the driverβs side window. Then comes a second on Claireβs side, and several more beating against the back of the cruiser. Naeya sobs and curls in on herself, hands flying to her ears.
βLeon, you gotta back up!β Claire exclaims, calm despite the stress.
Two points of bright lights suddenly appear behind the cruiser, getting bigger as they get closer. First, all thatβs visible is the lights. Then the grill starts coming into view, too large for a car, not quite right for a bus. But itβs the exhaust pipes on either side of the cab that confirm what Leon is seeing.
βGet out. Get out now!β He shouts.
Leon starts beating against his door, Claire against hers, and Naeya, through her tears, tries her left side. But the number of corpses surrounding them, pushing back against the car, is too strong. Escape isnβt possible.
Leon whips towards the backseat. The truck is going to collide from behind, and Naeya is going to take that impact in full. βNaeya, up here!β
She reaches for him. Leon wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her over the center console, wedging her in his lap between himself and the steering wheel. He keeps one hand on the wheel to brace himself, and uses the other to clutch Naeya against his chest. She clings to his shirt, face against his neck as she braces for the inevitable impact.
The truck swerves, hits a white car dumped on the side of the street first before swerving again. The first collision slows it down a fraction, but no where near enough to make its impact with the cruiser less brutal.
Leon grunts and holds Naeya tighter to keep her from flying out the windshield as the police car is shot forward, knocked through the barricade and skids several feet before crashing head first into another car. Naeya cries out in pain as her ribs slam into the steering wheel, the impact sharp and leaving fire in its wake.
Leon takes a second to recover, and without letting go of Naeya, pushes the door open and drags them both out onto the concrete. They stumble, supporting each other as they take a few steps from the cruiser-
Naeya screams in alarm at the cruiser suddenly explodes into fire, shards of metal flying overhead, missing them by mere inches. But itβs the truck Leon worries about, his eyes following the embers towards the toppled cylinder it was transporting.
βOh no.β He realizes under his breath. βMove-!β
The cylinder explodes, flashing brighter and hotter than the cruiser. Heat rushes up their backs as the ground shakes and throws them several feet, the grip they had on each other slipping. Leon gets sent into the side of a white car, the frame denting from where his body collided.
He groans in pain and wraps an arm around his ribs as he pushes to his feet. The flames have engulfed almost everything, surrounding him in a semi-circle of fire too bright to even look at.
βNaeya!β Leon shouts, frantic, as he searches for where she landed.
He finds her quickly, recovering from her tumble slowly but surely. She skidded across the pavement before hitting the curb where the road meets the sidewalk.
Leon rushes over, crouching behind and wrapping his arms around her waist. βI got you. You okay?β
A sob shakes her entire body as Leon lifts her to her feet. βI canβt do this. Itβs too much, Leon. I canβt-β
Leon turns her to face him and cups her face between his hands. βHey, hey, look at me. Yes, you can. Weβre gonna get through this, alright? Iβm not going to let anything happen to you. Just stay with me, okay?β
Itβs easy to look at Naeya and write her off as someone who isnβt phased by anything. Her hair is cut short, the ends kissing the bottom of her neck, and then thereβs that dyed piece at the front. She loves her eyeliner and a dark colour pallet for clothing, which turns her already dark eyes into an even bigger mystery. But what really makes others misread her is the bull piercing under her nose and the jade pendant she always wears. Itβs shaped like a triangle with a circle of empty space in the middle, something that could easily be mistaken for a symbol of the occult.
She can be an absolute badass, but sheβs only human. And itβs human to want to break under extreme stress.
Naeya swallows, her eyes still lined with tears, but something in her expression shifts. Hardens. Becomes a bit more steady and determined as she nods, her hand finding Leonβs in a firm grip.
Leon nods back, seeing her resolve, and twists towards the flames. βClaire! Claire, you okay!β
A long pause, and then, a voice shouts back. βYeah! Iβm alright! How about you?β
βWeβre alive!β Naeya shouts back, her voice strong. Something catches her attention, and her head snaps to the side. She tugs on Leonβs hand to get his attention. βLeon.β
He looks, curses under his breath, and shouts over the burning cruiser to Claire again. βWe canβt stay here! Itβs not safe!β
βGo on ahead! Iβll meet you two at the station!β Claire shouts.
βWeβll be there!β Leon tightens his grip on Naeyaβs hand, and uses the other to draw his pistol, just in case. βAs soon as we get to the station, weβre finding you a weapon.β
βAgreed.β Naeya says, jogging alongside Leon as he guides her through the catastrophe.
The world has ended. Or, at least, Raccoon City has. Fires, groans and growls from the walking dead, the relentless rain soaking her to the bone, Naeya has well and truly found herself in hell. At least Leon is with her, but whether or not thatβs a good thing is up for debate. Sheβs glad because it means she doesnβt have to survive this nightmare alone. Devastated, because being here, protecting her, means heβs bound to get hurt. Or worse.
She never should have dismissed her firearm training after the mandatory course was done. Thankfully, sheβs kept up her fitness and is keeping up with her rookie police officer easily.
βShit, itβs everybody. Theyβve all turned.β Leon mumbles as he drags her along, leading her into an alley and then down a flight of stairs.
βWhat would cause something like this?β Naeya asks, though she knows he wonβt have the answer. Itβs a question for the sake of trying to convince herself that itβs real, that she wonβt wake up in her apartment any minute now.
βI donβt know, baby.β He replies, checking a corner before guiding her around it. βBut weβll figure it out. Youβre still with me, yeah?β
βIβm with you.β She says, giving the hand still holding hers a squeeze.
She follows him up a few more flights of stairs before the alley finally breaks and opens to the street once more. Like the rest of the city, itβs lined with abandoned cars of various models and colours. On the other side stands a massive building big enough to be a museum, but the three white letters mounted above the iron gate label this place βR.P.Dβ.
Raccoon Police Department.
They hurry through the maze of cars, barricades and buses, dodging corpses both dead and moving in their rush for the gate. One is crouched right before it, too occupied in feasting on the body of another to notice them right away.
Leon releases Naeyaβs hand to grab the handles and push both iron doors open. βGo!β
She slips past him, into the safety of the police departmentβs courtyard. Leon is right on her heels, slamming the gate shut behind them and setting the bolt. Naeyaβs heart is hammering as she watches a small herd of corpses, who must have started trailing them just after exiting the alley, stumble right up to the gate and start banging on it.
Naeya wants to look away, but she canβt. Not when theyβre covered in gore and blood and looking everything like zombies from a movie. Not when the voices she hasnβt stopped hearing since entering the city are ringing through her.
βHungry.β
βHelp me!β
βHungry.β
βPlease, kill me!β
βHungry. Hungry. Hungry.β
Leon is suddenly right in front of her, his figure blocking her view of the gates and the corpses thrashing against it. βFocus on me, okay?β
Naeya nods, keeping her eyes on him as he takes her hand again and brings her inside. The doors swing open effortlessly, too easily for a place that was supposedly providing sanctuary during a crisis. The lobby is ridiculous in terms of its size, a massive wooden reception desk right up front. Way back behind it stands a skyscraper of a white statue of a goddess, illuminated like a beacon of hope when everything else is bathed in shadow. It doesnβt give Naeya any comfort.
βHello? Is anybody here?β Leon calls, his voice echoing in the grand space.
Naeya slips her hand from his grip and moves towards the desk to investigate while Leon checks their immediate surroundings. Most of what she finds isnβt useful, none of it relevant to whatβs going on outside. But the laptopβ¦ itβs still active. The screen lets off an orange glow as a geometrical globe spins behind a two-dimensional law enforcement badge, the initials of the police department bolded underneath.
Naeya taps the enter key. To both her surprise and relief, it isnβt password locked. Several tabs fly open, but the one sitting on top is connected to the security cameras. Not all of them; a place this big has to have more than just four, but itβs possible that these four are the only ones still functioning.
In the bottom right square, labeled βCAM4β, a man in an officerβs uniform rushes into view. βLeon, look!β
He comes up behind her, looking at the screen from over her shoulder. The officer turns back in the direction he came from and fires two shots at a walking corpse, but it doesnβt drop. He rushes off again and disappears from view, but only for a moment. Heβs captured again in βCAM3β.
βDavid! Marvin! You there?β The officer asks, his voice clear in the audio. βI found a way out. Itβs in here!β
He flashes what appears to be a notebook at the camera, but the display costs him.
βNo.β Naeya breaths as the corpse closes in on him, watching in horror as it sinks its teeth into the manβs shoulder.
Luckily, the man shoves it off and creates some distance. βSend reinforcements! East hallway!β
He runs off again, and doesnβt appear in any of the other cameras. Leon reaches around her and taps one of the keyboard keys, flipping through the other tabs until a map of the station pops up. βI gotta find that guy.β
βWe.β Naeya corrects him, casting a look over her shoulder.
Leon shakes his head. βNo. Youβre still unarmed, and itβs more crowded indoors. Who knows what the rest of this place is like? The lobby looks secure, youβll be safer here for now.β
βSaferβ, not βsafeβ. The choice of wording isnβt lost on Naeya. She wants to argue, to tell him that she would be safest by his side, but would he be safer if she stayed here? If he only has to worry about himself, then yes, he is inarguably safer if she were to stay put. Naeya knows he isnβt considering his own safety, and the slight tightness to his jaw gives away that he isnβt thrilled on the idea of leaving her behind, either.
But heβs right. There is only one weapon between them as of now, and if the police department was acting as a sanctuary, then odds are the halls and corridors behind the lobby are crawling with the dead. If Leon were to get hurt, or die trying to protect her over himself, sheβd never survive it.
βWhat if something happens to you and Iβm not there to even try to help?β Naeya whispers, her voice giving away her reluctant acceptance of how things are about to go.
Leon sets his gun into its holster, freeing both hands so he can cup her face, thumbs following the lines of her cheekbones. His hands are warm and familiar, just starting to develop callouses from his fitness and firearms training. βIβll come back to you alive and in one piece, I promise. If something gets in while Iβm gone and you canβt defend yourself, run. Hide. Iβll find you.β
Naeya nods, her hands finding his wrists, thumbs pushing into his pulse. The quick but firm beat of his heart grounds her. βI love you.β
βI love you, too.β He pulls her head closer and presses long, firm, almost desperate kiss to her forehead. βIβll see you soon.β
She follows, feeling more helpless than sheβs ever been, as Leon climbs up the short flight of steps and tracks left, heading for the garage-like shutter door thatβs been pulled down to keep evil things out. He pressed the button to lift it, but the door jams, only allowing enough space for someone his size to crawl under.
Naeyaβs heart sinks as he gets down and flashes the light through the gap, checking to see if the other side is clear. βBe careful in there.β
βI will.β
With that, Leon crawls through. She listens to the sound of his footsteps growing distant, until she can hear him anymore. Only then does she step away.
Now alone, the first thing Naeya does is go to the front door and make sure itβs locked up tight. If the corpsesβ¦ no, calling them corpses doesnβt feel right, not when she can still hear the cries of a human soul buried deep within. If the Infected manage to get through the iron gates, then the front doors will slow them down again and give her a warning to make an escape.
Once the entrance is secure, she grabs the laptop and hides herself beneath the massive wooden desk. Itβs not ideal and doesnβt give her much room for a quick getaway if something were to crawl under here with her, but the alternative, being exposed and possibly seen easily, gives her even bigger jitters.
Naeya studies the map of the station, keeps an eye on the cameras that are still functioning, and does as much background digging as she can. Unsurprisingly, the Wi-Fi isnβt working, meaning thereβs no way to contact anyone beyond Raccoon City for help. She canβt access the internet to even attempt to search for what all of this could mean, what could have caused an outbreak like this.
With a curse, she sets the laptop aside and pulls out the palm-sized notebook and pen she always keeps on hand swallowing as she does her best to hold back emotion as she writes.
The station is so unnervingly quiet, the kind that makes oneβs hair stand on end and their mind imagine things lurking in the corners, waiting to pounce.
Outside, the Infected throw themselves against the iron gates, sticking their rotting arms through and hissing at the scent of human coming from beyond.
A sound makes her pause. Itβs faint, like the whisper of a shoe against tile, only possible to hear in the great silence. Naeya holds her breath, but hears no growling, no hissing, smells no rot. So she continues, lowering her voice to a hush.
Gunshots, muffled but close, nearly have Naeya jumping out of her skin. She holds her breath, strains her ears to listen, and drops her notebook when she hears the desperate groan of someone struggling with something heavy.
She darts out from beneath the desk and races for the shutter door. Leon is rushing to crawl through, but just as his knees make it under-
A startled cry rips from Naeyaβs throat as body of an Infected appears with him, grabbing onto Leonβs leg with ripped, bloody fingers and trying to pull itself through. Its jaw opens and closes with its growls, ready for the feast it thinks itβs found, but Naeya isnβt going to see someone die right in front of her tonight. Certainly not someone she loves.
The short distance from the desk to the door feels like a mile, and Naeya pushes herself faster the last few feet. She reaches Leon, and with nothing but her own body to help her, starts ramming the bottom of her foot into the Infectedβs face. She kicks it once, twice, before something suddenly grabs Leon and hauls him the rest of the way out to safety.
βWatch out!β A voice shouts, and Naeya quickly retreats from the door.
A man takes over for her, placing his foot on the lip at the bottom of the shutter and slamming it down on the Infectedβs head. It splatters, blood and flesh and pieces of muscle that was once its brain spilling out before her. Then the smell hits. It makes her stomach twist, sends bile racing up her throat like acid-
Naeya twists and doubles over as she gags. The dinner she had at the fast food place they stopped at on the way to the city coming up and staining the already disgusting floor. She coughs and heaves, and the more she tries to fight to stop, the harder her body rejects everything it had.
A warm, familiar hand finds her back, an announcement of his presence, before Leon is pulling her short hair back and holding it out of the way. βLet it out, itβs okay. Iβm okay. Youβre okay.β
When her stomach has nothing more to get rid of, Naeya heaves a few breaths to steady herself. Fresh tears line her eyes, but this time, itβs a reflex from vomiting. βOh my godβ¦ thatβs so gross.β
βIβll take your gross over the gross I saw out there.β Leon says, his words sarcastic but is tone serious as he spins Naeya around and all but crushes her against his chest.
She wraps her arms tightly around his neck, burying her nose in his neck as she breathes him in. She came so, incredibly close to losing him just now.
βYou two are safeβ¦ for now.β The man who saved their asses says as he collapses back against the door.
Heβs dressed in a blue uniform shirt and black pants, a golden badge pinned to the left side of his chest. Itβs in pristine condition, despite how awful the man looks. His dark skin has turned a sickly shade, more than likely from the wound on his side. The hand he holds against it is slick with blood.
βThanks.β Leon says, loosening his arms but not letting go of Naeya as he turns to the officer.
βMarvin Branagh.β The man introduces himself. With his laboured his breathing is, talking seems to be enough to strain him. Or, he used more energy than he had to save them.
βLeon Kennedy. This is my girlfriend, Naeya Vreen.β
βThank you for helping us.β Naeya says, eyes shining genuinely as her fingers subconsciously tighten around Leonβs jacket.
At the sound of her gratitude, Leonβs embrace tightens again. Guilt flashes in his eyes. βThere was another officerβ¦ I-I couldnβtβ¦ I tried, butβ¦β
Naeya looks up at him as he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. She doesnβt need to ask. The fate of the officer he went to find is clear.
βIβm sure you did what you could, Leon.β Marvin says, and sounds like he means the good faith heβs offering. He even shakes Leonβs hand.
Naeyaβs heart is still pounding like a war drum from the adrenaline. Meeting Marvin should feel like the end, but the spirits, the good spirits, whisper to her that itβs only the beginning.
Being cared for quietly is all his mate needs some days.
Azriel's shadows reported minimal activity from his mate that day. Since he left at sunrise to follow up on a lead for an investigation on Rhysand's behalf, his mate left their bed a total of four times. Three to use the rest room, and once to have a very small bowl of leftover soup from the night before.
Hearing such things would have alarmed him early on, but Azriel has been with his mate long enough to know what was ailing her. So, on his way home, he stops by Madja's clinic to pick up something he knows will help.
The apartment he shares with his mate sits above the bookstore she owns, the shop showing no signs that it's been open for business today. Silent as his shadows, Azriel tucks his wings in tight and climbs the spiral staircase to the second floor. It leads him right into the kitchen, and from there, he makes his way down the short hall to the bedroom.
A shadow hovers above the bed, wavering as if in distress for the female sleeping on her side beneath the sheets. It quivers in relief and recedes when its master approaches.
Carefully, quietly, Azriel eases the blanket down her arm. He feathers his scarred fingers through her hair, an announcement of his presence, before gently touching her shoulder. As he suspected, the muscle is tense and inflamed. His mate is prone to neck and shoulder tension, and some days, it becomes so bad the pain brings a migraine along with it.
She doesn't stir, and Azriel doesn't wake her from her sleep, not wanting to remove her from the only relief she has. Without a word, he twists the lid off the container he got from the healer and applies the cream to her inflamed shoulder. He gently rubs it into her skin, applies a bit more to the back of her neck, then seals the container and sets it on the table next to the bed. Covering her with the blanket again, he refills her empty water glass and leaves the door cracked open on his way out.
An hour later, the subtle creaking of the bed alerts Azriel of his waking mate. Moments later, she's leaning over the back of the arm chair and wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind, being mindful of his wings. She's always so wonderfully careful with his wings.
"Thank you." She says, pressing her lips to his cheek.
Azriel stills, because even after all this time, he's still learning to accept that he deserves her. "You're welcome, Love. How are you feeling?"
"Achy, but I'll live."
She lets go and walks around the chair to climb into his lap. Azriel accepts her with ease, balancing his novel in one hand so he can lift the other arm to make room for her.
"Are you hungry?" He asks, lowering his raised arm to hold her close.
His mate shakes her head, then winces at how the movement aggravates her slowly disappearing migraine. "No. I think I'll be sick if I eat right now."
Azriel's brows pull together. He knows she's barely eaten. "Eating might make you feel better."
"Maybe." She says, snuggling into his chest. "I'll try in a bit. Give me some time to settle."
The promise that she'll try is good enough. The apartment falls quiet again, and while his mate rests her eyes some more, Azriel gently rubs her shoulder. His eyes are trained on the pages, but his focus is on her. The sound of her relaxed breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Azriel is a spymaster. A Shadowsinger. His life revolves around the art of quiet, but when it comes to his mate, silence isn't a weapon.
Okay I fixed all the links for the Masterlist for Intertwined.
Iβm so sorry I had no idea all the links broke when I revamped my blog π
I gotta fix the ones in the actual chapters still, but Iβll do that when Iβm actually on my PC and not on mobile cuz itβs a lot of clicking back and forth.
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Cassian's mate is notorious for beating herself up when she's already down.
Cassian knew something was up.
His mate can be as strong as she is gentle, and as fragile as she can be strong. His centuries on the battlefield have honed his observation skills into a weapon as sharp as his Illyrian blades, but he doesnβt need that training to know his mate isnβt having one of her strong days. He can sense it through the bond.
Cassian has learned how to mask his pain, to withstand torture, all to keep information from falling into enemy hands. His mate, having grown up safe and sound in Velaris, doesnβt have such skills. Though, she wouldnβt be able to hide her thoughts or emotions if she tried. Sheβs far too in tune with her feelings, lives through her emotions.
And Cassian loves that about her. He just worries when something throws her so off balance. Because, usually, the one putting her at unease is herself.
The anxiety and misery seeping through the bond is what has him coming home early from his evening out with Rhysand and Azriel. The cozy two-story house he shares with his mate sits on the corner where the Sidra meets the ocean, only a few blocks away from the townhouse. He finds her the second he steps inside, sitting on the couch, burrowed in a blanket, a book in her lap.
Her eyes arenβt sparkling like they usually do when sheβs reading. Which means sheβs reading to escape what sheβs feeling, and not for the pleasure of it.
βSweetheart?β Cassian calls out, not wanting to startle her as he mindfully approaches.
Her head snaps up, eyes widening a little as she takes in the sight of him. "I thought you were having a males night?"
He smiles softly and sinks onto the couch next to her. "How could I focus on Rhys and Az when my mate is feeling blue?"
Her frown deepens, eyes dropping back to the pages in her hands. "You didn't have to come all the way home..."
'You could have checked in when you got back' is what she's really saying.
"Maybe." Cassian says, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind her. "But I wanted to check on you now. What's going on?"
He sees it immediately, the very subtle tightening of her facial muscles as she fights back tears. He takes it back - she does try to hide her emotions sometimes. She's just never been successful. Not with him, or any of the Inner Circle.
She closes the book and places it on her lap. "I made a massive, very serious mistake at work today."
"Oh?" Cassian tilts his head, brows furrowing a little. Making little errors here and there is as normal for her as anyone else, but something on the scale she's implying is not like her. At all.
"It was a mistake that never should have happened. I know better, I just... I had a haywire day and I didn't even realize it until I was wrapping up for the day." She brings her legs up onto the couch and buries her face in her knees.
"Were you able to fix it?" Cassian asks, moving the arm positioned behind her closer so he can trace circles between her shoulder blades.
She nods against her knees. "Yes, but by then my bosses had noticed." She swallows. "I'm so getting fired."
He shakes his head firmly, even though his mate can't see it. "You're not getting fired. They know you better than that. You made a serious mistake, but it was just that, Sweetheart: a mistake."
She hesitates. "Still, I never should have made a mistake like that."
Cassian sighs softly, because this is a battle he's still trying to find a way through. How to get her to stop beating herself down. "You care. You love your job. I know it, your co-workers know it, your bosses know it. You can't be perfect every single day. Now you'll just... be even more aware than you were before."
This time, it's his mate who sighs as she lifts her head. She slumps back against the couch, and looks so emotionally drained as she peers up at him with eyes that are beginning to puff up. "I just feel like I finally figured out what I want to do with my life, you know? I don't want to lose this job over something I genuinely made a mistake on."
"You won't lose it." Cassian moves his hand from his back to her cheek, wiping away tears that haven't fallen yet. "I'll go in and vouch for you myself if I have to. Or, hell, I'm sure a letter of recommendation from Rhys and Feyre will guarantee they keep you."
Finally, her lips curl up instead of down. "Let's save name dropping for when I have no other option."
Even then, she'd never use her friendly connection with the High Lord and Lady to get her way. She's the type to work for what she has. Another thing Cassian loves about her.
He leans over and presses a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I know the unknown of tomorrow is going to make you anxious no matter what I say. But if you need me, I'm only a tug on the bond away."
She nods, and shifts closer to curl up against him.
Cassian adjusts the blanket over his mate and runs the tips of his fingers up and down her arm. She's talked it out, and now that she has, physical comfort is the next step to soothing her nerves for the night.
