#I'm just always like. dreading encountering her in the kitchen

[trans-xianxian]

girl I think I need to move 😭

[agirlwithdemonblood]

The Celebrity Next Door: Chapter 1 - Welcome to the Neighborhood

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader (Written in first person, but with Y/N)

Series Summary: Y/N's life takes an unexpected turn when she moves next door to Jensen Ackles, a famous actor navigating life post-divorce. Their initial awkward encounter over a broken window leads to a budding friendship, navigating the challenges of celebrity life and forging meaningful connections in their neighborhood.

Chapter Summary: Y/N, a New Yorker adjusting to life in Los Angeles, finds herself entangled with her neighbor Jensen Ackles and his daughter Katie after a baseball mishap leads to unexpected connections and new beginnings in their shared neighborhood.

A/N: Okay, so it may be weird but I'm writing this in first person POV, but the name will be changed to Y/N. Might be annoying, but it's easier for the story. Thank you!

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

The sun beamed through the bay window of my living room, filling the air with the chirping of birds and scurrying of squirrels. It was a surprisingly joyful sound that welcomed me on my first real day in Los Angeles—a city I had dreaded joining.

Maybe my initial judgments were coloured by my New York roots; after all, I was unquestionably a city girl. I've always found comfort in the sounds of the city; cars honking, people scattered everywhere living their lives-that was the life I was used to. As much as I was excited about the new chapter of my life, there were qualities of LA that would take some getting used to, things that puzzled me.

Like why was it always so damn bright here? The sky, the buildings, the houses-all of it seemed to glow with an intensity that demanded sunglasses just to step outside. And why were the houses so enormous? It seemed ridiculous. I only need a bed, a bathroom and a kitchen yet here I was in what they called a condo, but felt more like a mansion with its space.

But despite my initial objection to LA’s charms, I couldn’t deny the peacefulness of the palm-tree-lined streets and the birdsong that greeted me each morning in a way New York never could.

I rolled onto my side, glanced at my phone, and sighed. 10:00 am already. There was still so much unpacking to do, and no one to help.

These first days were going to be busy. Pushing myself off the less-than-comfortable bed, I shuffled to the kitchen where the only thing I had set up so far was my Keurig machine. Leaning on the counter, I patiently awaited that first magical cup of morning coffee. Glancing outside, I squinted at the brilliant sunlight that threatened to overwhelm me. Seriously, why was it so damn bright here?

The coffee machine groaned, signaling it was ready. I turned to grab my mug when a sudden crash shattered the quiet. Instinctively, I dropped to the ground.

Peeking slowly over the counter, I discovered the cause—a baseball sitting right there on my kitchen floor, glass scattered everywhere around it.

I chuckled softly and shook my head. One thing I wouldn’t miss about New York: the reflex to duck for cover at every unexpected noise.

Moments later, the doorbell rang, nearly sending me into cardiac arrest. I approached guardedly, peeking through the side windows. A little girl stood on my porch, her expression guilt-ridden.

I opened the door, looked around for a parent nearby before crouching down to her eye level. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

Her small hands fidgeted with her zipper nervously. “I… I accidentally hit your window with my baseball. It’s inside your house.”

I smiled warmly. “It’s okay. What’s your name sweetie?”

Her eyes glanced up slightly, a light sniffle coming from her nose. “Katie."

“Well, Katie, I’m Y/N. Let’s go get your ball, alright? Are your parents around?”

She looked around and shook her head. “My daddy’s inside. Mommy’s not here.”

I nodded, retrieving the ball and returning to find Katie waiting patiently on the porch. I couldn’t help but giggle at her adorableness. Despite the broken window, I looked forward to having children around, filling the street with laughter and play.

Carefully navigating the scattered glass, I handed Katie her ball. She beamed up at me as I closed and locked the door behind us. “Where’s your house? I’ll take you back to your dad.”

Katie pointed to a massive white house next to mine, surrounded by a high fence and perfectly kept lawn which only peaked my curiosity.

Following Katie to her gate, I watched her disappear inside the house quickly, calling for her dad to come to the door. I waited patiently and suddenly anxiety filled my chest at the concept of meeting my new neighbour in this way.

It took a few minutes, but finally the little girl returned with a larger figure I could barely see from where I was standing. He approached the door and with every step he took towards the light, the more my breath got caught in my throat.

I knew him—or at least recognized him from somewhere. His piercing green eyes met mine, and suddenly it clicked: Jensen Ackles. I struggled to maintain composure, reminding myself he was just a person like me, despite my heart threatening to burst from my chest.

“Can I help you?” His voice was direct, cutting through my nerves.

I managed a polite smile, trying to gather my thoughts. “Hi... I just moved in next door. Your daughter accidentally threw a baseball into my kitchen window, and she came over to...”

“Katie!” His sharp voice interrupted, causing me to jump. He turned to his daughter, arms crossed. “What did I tell you about throwing the baseball around? This is the third time this month!”

Katie’s eyes dropped, on the verge of tears. I wanted to comfort her or maybe scold Jensen, but I knew nothing about parenting. Still, seeing him yell at her harshly made my anxiety rise.

The worst part of this whole situation though, was the way he was glaring into my soul, arms still crossed, a deep frown on his face. It felt like the very essence of my being was completely ruining his day.

He sighed, leaning against the doorway with a hint of apology in his eyes. “Is that all, or is there something else?”

I faltered, sensing his impatience. “Uh, no, that’s it, I guess.”

“Okay. Thanks, bye.” With that, the door closed, leaving me staring at the wooden texture of my first celebrity encounter.

As I walked back to my house, I couldn't stop the sadness that crept in. It was my first day, and it had already started roughly. I wondered if I would ever warm up to this place.

An hour later, most of my boxes were unpacked, clothes neatly put away away, and a single family photo hung in the hallway that was taken at a family reunion over a year ago. Our family wasn't the photo taking type, and that's one thing I vowed to change, because as I stared at the empty wall with the lone photograph, I felt sad.

But when I looked around my spacious new home, I felt a sense of relief. The morning’s drama and anxiety had faded away.

I grabbed my coffee and stepped onto the front porch, sinking into the swing that came with the house. Examining the neighborhood, I noticed kids playing—biking, rollerblading, and drawing with chalk.

My gaze landed on Jensen’s front yard. Katie was there, playing with a little boy who looked just like him. Jensen was noticeably absent, which didn’t surprise me.

I headed out to collect my mail, when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. My heart warmed as Katie waved at me from her yard. Returning her wave with a smile, I realized maybe I wouldn’t hate this place after all.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[frogg093]

~ Second meetings and reluctant apologies ~

Synopsis: When your mother told you about Aunty Buer's nephew, who was visiting for the summer, you were expecting a kind, shy boy who loved helping out his aunty and spending time with the lonely elders and cheerful children of the neighborhood. It was quite the surprise when you found out just how mean Kunikuzushi really was. Your first encounter went poorly, and you were absolutely dreading your next meeting. You already hate him. But, a lot can change in one summer... perhaps you'll have different views of each other by the time school starts again, and Kunikuzushi has to return to Inazuma..?

a/n: Hahaha... I took forever to write this part... I'm sorry pookies 🤧🤧🤧

Kunikuzushi x Sumerian!gn!reader / no pronouns used / <3

♡ Part 1

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Kunikuzushi was a lot of work.

For someone who was constantly being praised by both your mother and his aunty, he was quite difficult to tolerate. As a person who was always quiet and reserved, you hated how obnoxious he acted at times. It’s not like he was loud or boisterous, but he was quite disrespectful, and just an overall jerk.

On your first meeting, you ended up responding to his disgusted gaze and rude remarks with some... not so nice words. You two ended up arguing, and your mother gave you an earful when you got back home. She forced you to go back to Aunty Buer’s house the next day and apologize with some sweets, which was an infuriating experience. 

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

“I hate sweets.” Kunikuzushi said, crossing his arms and looking at you with an indifferent expression. It took everything in you not to glare at him as your grip tightened around the tray you were holding. You put your whole damn soul into this stupid dessert, all while your mother scolded you for arguing with him, even though it was completely his fault, and he doesn’t even like sweets? You almost feel like throwing the whole tray at his stupid face. But you don’t, because that would defeat the whole purpose of coming here today. 

“You can give them to Aunty Buer, then.” You mumble, trying not to sound irritated as you look around before setting the tray down on the table beside you. What now?? You’ve gotten the apology bit out of the way - but he hasn’t said whether he forgives you or not. All he’s done is reject the sweets that took you a painful amount of time to make. You stand there awkwardly, wondering if you should say something about it. 

“...well? What are you still doing here?” He asks. You flinch a little at the judgemental look on his face. How the hell are you supposed to word this? Internally cringing, you decide to just say it.

“Uhh... you didn’t answer my apology. Do you forgive me?” You fidget with your sleeve. You wish you could just turn around and leave, but you know that you’ll be scolded if you go back home without a clear response to your apology.

“Oh. Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” He looked at the clock on the wall, like he had other things to be doing. You followed his gaze. “Is that it? You can leave now.” He covered a yawn behind his hand, waving you away with the other.

Gladly, You think, as you nod and glance at your shoes.

“Okay. Bye, Kunikuzushi.” You give him an awkward wave and turn around to leave. Was... was that really it? You were expecting him to insult you again, or tell you that he doesn’t forgive you. But oh well. You walk out of the living room and through the kitchen. Buer is sitting at the table with her sewing machine.

Oh, you think. So that’s why the chairs are so tall. You feel a little stupid for not realizing earlier, but you ignore it and walk to the table to say goodbye. 

“I’m going now, Aunty Buer. Thank you for having me.” You hug her, and you feel her little arms wrapping around you in return.

“No problem, [name]! Did you and Kuni make up?” She asked hopefully, taking your hand and smiling kindly at you. Her smile is so cute, you just want to eat her.

“Um, I guess so.” You respond, trying not to stare at her too much.

“Ah, I’m glad.” Her smile grows even bigger. “I know Kuni can be really mean sometimes, but he’s a good kid at heart. He’s just not very good at socializing. So please don’t be too mad at him, okay?” She gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

You almost scoff, but Aunty Buer is just too sweet. It’ll be hard, but for her sake, you’ll try not to be offended by his behavior.

“Okay, Aunty.” You smile and nod at her.

“Thank you, [name]. I’ll talk to him for you, okay?” She pats your cheek and pinches it gently.

You hesitate. You don’t want it to seem like you asked her to talk to him for you, but either way, it’s not like you can convince her not to. You’ve learned not to try and dissuade an aunty once she’s made up her mind.

“Okay. Thank you.” You give her one last hug. “Bye, Aunty. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, let me open the door for you.”

And with that, your little visit was over. As much as you wanted to forgive him, for Buer’s sake, you were still a little pissed off by the way that he acts. Sure, he might hate socializing, but he could definitely be a little nicer about it! But then again, maybe you’re just being petty. You look up at the sky as you walk down the street. You hold an arm over your head to protect your eyes from being burned off by the sun. Should you just get over it and be nice to him anyways? You’re still a little shocked that he forgave you so easily. Maybe you were overreacting.

You think about what Buer said to you.

“I know Kuni can be really mean sometimes, but he’s a good kid at heart. He’s just not very good at socializing. So please don’t be too mad at him, okay?”

'Kuni' was a cute nickname.

You push that thought aside as you reach your house at the end of the street. Time to relay your experience to your mother and hope that she’s satisfied with your apology. 

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Taglist: @scarasvision , @kunikuzushisbeloved , @chocolate-koala , @wings101 , @sakeeeee (Please work please work please work please work)

Ik it's short I'm sorry 😔😔😔 Part 3 coming soon (maybe)!!!

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 19

Words: 2.8k

Y/N tries to end things with Prof Van but it doesn’t quite go to plan 🖤

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

When you awaken the next morning your muscles feel tight and there's an ache lingering between your thighs. You roll over on to your back, looking straight up at the ceiling, the last 24 hour's events running through your mind. Your emotions are whirling, nerves and dread churning like a spin cycle mixed with embarrassment and humiliation, but those feelings are quickly chased away by arousal and lust when you let your mind wander to Van and Johnny. You sigh frustratedly, flipping your body over and burying your face into the pillow. Each encounter with your gorgeous professors is increasing in intensity, tapping into your fantasies and satisfying your wildest desires... and now here you are, ready to give it all up.

But what choice do you have?

The looks that Bob gives you from across the kitchen when you enter in search of breakfast leave you in no doubt that he'll follow through on his threat to expose your affair if you don't keep your end of the bargain and break things off with Van. It's just not worth the risk. There's too much at stake.

And it's the right thing to do...

"Where did you disappear off to yesterday afternoon then?" Benji pipes up from his seat at the kitchen table. The very table that Van had you bent over yesterday whilst he exacted his punishment on you. An electric thrill courses through you as you vividly remember the sharp sting of his belt followed by his teasing touch, the contrasting sensations dancing on that sweet balance between pleasure and pain that you crave so badly.

"I realised I had to finish off that coursework I had an extension for so I came back here to work on it." You shrug nonchalantly. "Must've fallen asleep by the time you got back."

You dart a hand forward to grab a slice of buttered toast off his loaded plate, hoping that your thievery will distract from the reply you've given, but there's no chance of that. Benji lets out a loud snort, incredulous.

"You? Leaving the pub to get your coursework done? Like that'd ever happen! C'mon... where did ya really get to? You were there one minute and then the next you'd gone... poof... just like that." He raises up a hand in a flourish, his grin widening. "Betcha pulled didn't ya?" He looks at Bob. "What d'ya reckon Bob? She's definitely hiding something, she looks dead shifty." Back to you. "What ya hiding Y/N? What trouble have ya got yourself into now?"

"I'm not hiding anything!" You cry defensively, eyes flicking to Bob, seeking help you're sure not to receive. "Why do you lot always think I'm up to no good?"

"Because you almost always are!" Benji sniggers.

You're a crap liar, you always have been. You should just laugh along with him, spin him some tall tale about pulling a fellow student from your course or tell him to mind his own business, but you can't think clearly. Your stomach's twisting into knots at the prospect of telling Van that it's over and you just can't function normally, but then Bob comes to your rescue quite unexpectedly.

"Actually she's telling the truth," he tells his friend plainly. "I came back early ‘cause I felt rough. I thought I was seeing things when I got back here and found her working hard at the kitchen table."

That's one way to phrase it, you think, turning away quickly as you feel your cheeks start to colour and a smirk surface.

"Yeah, so you can piss off with your accusations Blakeway!" You call over your shoulder playfully as you start for the doorway, raising up your middle finger as an afterthought which earns you a barrage of teasing abuse.

You're so early for your 9am lecture that the corridors are empty as you approach, the sounds of the soles of your converse squeaking lightly on the freshly polished floor breaking the silence. You pause outside Van's office door but then carry on to the lecture hall, somehow anticipating feeling braver being in an open space when you drop the bombshell.

You've been rehearsing lines in your head all morning, trying to predict Van's reaction, wondering whether he'll try his hardest to talk you out of it or disregard you and wave you off with relief that he's managed to save his own skin. Neither scenario sounds particularly easy to handle, but imagining the latter just sets off an entirely unexpected aching hollowness deep inside that you know you've no business feeling. You're firstly a tutee and secondly a plaything to Van, nothing else, another student to teach and a quick fix for his dark desires. You'd be foolish to even think for a second that you mean anything more to him than that.

It's the right thing to do... it's the right thing to do... it's the right thing to do...

You chant the words in your head like a mantra as you press open the door to the room, fully expecting it to be empty. You'd wanted a few moments on your own to compose yourself before Van arrived, but that's not to be. You pause on the threshold, your mouth falling open in surprise as you see him sitting there hunched over one of the desks, pen in hand, scrawling furiously across a sheet of paper. He's so caught up in what he's writing that he doesn't notice you at first, a small groan of what sounds like frustration emitting from him as he crosses out what he's written, one hand raking through his hair before he grasps at the paper and scrunches it into a ball before dropping it on to the desk.

You step forward, allowing the door to swing shut behind you, making him jolt, and when his head snaps up you're even more taken aback. He looks very far from his usual pristine self, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, the same shirt that you distinctly remember that he was wearing yesterday creased and crumpled on his slim frame. It looks like he's not slept a wink. Your anxiety increases as he bolts up on to his feet and strides quickly over to you.

"Y/N... you're here. I didn't even think you'd show up this morning."

He reaches for your shoulders, gripping them and pulling you away from the door, further into the room until you can feel a desk pressing into the backs of your thighs. His eyes are searching as they scan your face and he doesn't even give you a chance to speak. "I've been going out of my mind since I left you yesterday. What happened? Did someone hear us? Are you okay? I've not been into the office or even fired up my laptop yet. I've been avoiding everyone... I've not even been home."

"You've... you've not been home?" You echo in disbelief, your thoughts going to Kathleen, wondering how she must have felt, firstly being abandoned on their date afternoon and then left alone all night wondering where Van was. An uncharacteristic twinge of guilt shoots through you and for the first time you actually start to feel some conviction that you're making the right choice in calling things off.

"Yeah... slept in my car," he mumbles, eyes falling away for a brief moment as he studies the floor. "Not that I actually did get much sleep. Spent most of the night just going over shit in my brain, penning my resignation letter in my head..."

He trails off, eyes meeting yours again, full of anxiety but tired too, not just physically but mentally, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "Tell me... how bad is it? Are we totally fucked?"

It's so out of character seeing him like this that you're speechless for a moment, struggling to form your thoughts into coherent words, but when you start talking the words come out in a sudden rush. "It was Bob, my housemate. He was there and he heard everything." You pause as you wince internally, watching Van as his eyes screw shut. "I tried to tell him that I was with someone else, I really did, but he knew it was you, he recognised your voice. And I'm a terrible liar too. He was shocked... and really mad as well. He said you were just taking advantage of me and he was going to talk to the Faculty Head."

"Fuck..." Van utters through clenched teeth, his jaw tight. He rubs at his temples like he's trying to soothe away a headache.

"But it's okay," you add quickly. "You don’t need to worry, he won't say anything... not now anyway."

Van's eyes flick open, cool blue and mesmerising. He takes a step closer. "How can you be so sure? You just said he was going to report me."

The lines you'd rehearsed stick in your throat like barbs. You'd practically convinced yourself that you wanted to end this but now he's this near you can feel the radiant warmth of his body heat and your resolve is weakening. He's so fucking beautiful up close like this that all you can think about is how much you want him, your incessant craving for his touch so strong it's a physical need. You cast your eyes downwards, trying to focus on anything but him. Trying to be strong.

"Come on Y/N... tell me. This is important for both of us."

You feel his touch then, two fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards. He seems softer than you've ever known him when you've been alone like this and it catches you off guard. "We made... a deal..." Your voice comes out quiet, a soft whisper.

"A deal?"

"Uh-huh..."

He shuffles even closer, a shadow of something dark flitting over his countenance. "What kind of deal? He's not threatening you is he?"

An exhale escapes you and you hadn't realised you'd been holding your breath. "Bob? Threatening? He's about as threatening as an earthworm!"

You laugh nervously, hoping to lighten the situation but Van remains tense, looming over you. You steel yourself. It's no use prolonging this.

"He's not making me do anything... this is all my idea. It's for the best, and if I put things right he'll let it go. I... uhh... I uhh... I think… we should finish this... whatever it is... between us."

You gesture in the small gap between your two bodies, watching for some kind of reaction from Van, surprised to find him looking back at you with a steady expression. The only indication that your words have reached him at all is the shift of his fingers at your chin as his grip widens to span your jaw. You find more words spilling out of your mouth, uncensored, filling the loaded silence.

"I mean, it's just not worth the risk is it? There's so much at stake, your job, your relationship, your reputation... and my reputation too. I can't afford to get kicked out. I've been thinking all sorts... wondering whether it's best to put in for a transfer to another uni..."

You're babbling now but you can't stop, words tumbling out before the thoughts have even fully taken shape in your addled brain.

"You know what? Maybe I should just withdraw! It's not like I'm going to pass anyway, I'm set to fail this year so there's no point in dragging it out. The outcome's gonna be the same either way. I’m not really cut out for uni…”

"Y/N... stop..."

At the sound of your name your words are cut short. His free hand moves upwards and he cups your face, his palms cool on your hot skin. You look up at him, heart starting to thump wildly. He's morphing in front of your eyes, transforming into the Van you know so well, the haunted look he wore earlier dissipating as a soft smirk forms on his lips.

"Now I don't want to hear another negative word coming out of that pretty little mouth of yours, okay? You're not transferring, you're not withdrawing, and you're definitely not failing, I'm going to make sure of that."

You wish you had the same confidence in yourself that he seems to misguidedly have in you, but you've no time to argue. There's one very important issue that he's not addressing. "And... umm... what about us? We need to stop seeing each other."

"Do we?" He lets his thumbs softly caress your cheeks, the affectionate gesture making your knees feel weak. "This Bob... is he a good friend of yours? Can you trust him?"

Your thoughts flash to heated scenes in your kitchen, you and Bob scowling at each other over the cereal boxes as you berate him over some minor misdemeanour that he's committed. "Well... errr... kind of. I mean we're not exactly best mates or anything but I trust him, 100%. He always keeps his word, that's just the way he is."

Van nods slowly, letting his thumb linger further, gently brushing your lower lip. "So if you keep your side of the deal, then he'll keep his?"

"Uh-huh," you reply, the warm glow that's sparked between your thighs growing hotter the longer he's looking down on you like this, his tender touches making your brain fog over with lust and longing. He's not making this easy for you and you curse yourself for being so weak around him.

"So it's over then?" He says, watching you closely, eyes flicking down to the curve of your lower lip as he drags his thumb across it yet again.

"Uh-huh... It's the right thing to do..."

The words slip out quickly, your personal mantra which you've been silently chanting to yourself all morning. You just wish you fully believed it. If you did then you'd be pushing away from Van now, walking around the desk that he's got you pushed up against and taking a seat at it, ready for your lecture.

You don't though. You just stand there, trying to resist shunting your hips forward to press against his, looking up at him wide eyed as he scans your face, his thumb tracing your top lip now, his gaze following the trail he makes across the soft flesh, making your breathing stutter.

"It is the right thing to do. I wholeheartedly agree with you there." His voice is soft and sincere, but it doesn't match the devilish glint in his eye or the mischievous quirk of his lips. Your insides are doing somersaults, the fact that it's now only five minutes until the lecture starts and anyone could walk in at any moment seeming inconsequential even though you've just made a vow to end your affair. "You're forgetting something though... one very important fact..."

You blink up at him through your lashes, fighting a losing battle against your conscience whilst you wait for him to continue. “What’s that?”

"You're a bad girl Y/N, a very bad girl..." He pauses, tutting lightly. He presses the very tip of his thumb against the seam of your lips, gently parting them. "And we both know that bad girls never do the right thing, don't we?"

You're transfixed, overwhelmed by him and the way that he makes you feel. How did you ever think that you could finish this? How did you ever think that you could resist him?

"I said don't we Y/N?" He urges quietly, and you mumble a breathy "Yes Sir" against his thumb. It’s automatic, you don’t even have to think.

You're putty in his hands, completely fallen under his spell as he slowly and purposefully pushes his thumb into the warm, inviting wetness of your mouth.

"That's my good girl," he breathes, watching on in awe as you obediently purse your lips around his thumb and start to suck on it gently. He's fixated on your mouth, his eyes dark and his jaw slackened as he watches the digit slip in and out of your glossy lips. Your heart feels like it could burst clean out of your chest, a moan building in the back of your throat that you struggle to suppress as his hips press temptingly against yours.

"You'll come to my office after class," he instructs you, finally pulling his thumb free with an audible pop. "And we'll finish this discussion then... okay?"

And then before you can even formulate a reply he's stepping back, whirling around and walking casually away. It’s just in time as you hear raised voices emanating from behind the lecture room door a split second before it cracks open and your fellow class mates come into view. They file in like a swarm, chatting aimlessly, taking seats and shedding jackets and taking out textbooks like they haven't nearly just stumbled in on your Professor brazenly seducing you on the desk. You take a few deep breaths, trying to dampen your heightened state of arousal, glancing around furtively as you scuttle around the desk and pull out the chair, sliding into it.

[chamberedbeauty]

The weeks go by an agonizing blur. She threw herself into her schooling, into her father's political affairs, and she and Harry's mother's wishes of planning her "dream" wedding. Yet, no matter how hard she tries, she can't get Bucky's words out of her head. "I'm not your anything." "It would always come to this."

Every now and again she'd stop by and drop some food off for Steve, make sure the stubborn and relentless blonde wasn't sick, beaten, or in jail. But even their encounters felt off now, from her own doing of course. June had urged her to find her peace with Bucky, Rebecca had once tried to apologize, but Gwen couldn't hear it. She needed to forget- WANTED to forget. But then she got that goddamn phone call from the jeweler, something she'd completely forgotten about, but suddenly a stark reminder of James Buchannan Barnes sat on her vanity.

But she couldn't get herself to seek him out. Maybe it was better this way, besides he needed this time home to say goodbye to his family- Steve included. His affairs needed to be in order, and all she'd do is get in the way. She'd show up to the bus station tomorrow morning, say goodbye if she could find him in the crowd, but...she needed to leave him alone.

The whole night she was sick with worry. With dread. She'd tried writing Harry, but she couldn't even force herself to do that. Instead she focused on her rituals. Study, write, read, have supper, read more, bathe, and get ready for bed. And she's just about to put her curlers in when she hears a knock at the door.

Brown hues flicker to the clock, her brows creasing when it read 10:04 pm. Quickly Gwen reaches for her robe and slips it over her silk nightgown, shuffling on some slippers before she goes to the door, her eye coming to the peephole, and she could have crumpled to the ground at the sight.

A man in uniform.

A deep breath is forced before Gwen slowly opens the door, her features tired and sad as she looks him over, a sob nearly wailing from her lips as she notices the details on the uniform. But she forces a small smile. "Sergeant, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

Her gaze lowers to her hands before they pull the door open even more, stepping to the side to let him in to her apartment. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your family? Um...Would you like some tea?" Without an answer or hesitation, Gwen quickly hurries to the kitchen, desperate to keep herself busy. "I....I was going to come to the station in the morning."

[soyforramen]

If I'm not too late, for the writing prompts: 9 and/or 47, dealer's choice

·  “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

·  You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

Angst below, in an AU timeline...ish

 --

             It felt like a fire had lit up her lungs, the smoke crawling up her throat and choking her until her breath rasped out into the cold night air.  Behind her, Jughead stumbled, his breathing coming like tidal waves.  Betty spared a quick glance at him as she yanked at his arm and pointed to the ridge beyond.  

             “Just over there,” she lied.  

             It was becoming easier and easier to lie to him.

             On their way up the ridge her feet slipped in the muddy wet leaves.  Her knees hit the ground and her teeth rattled hard enough to see stars.  Jughead slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her up the rest of the hill, his breath erratic.

             It was another ten minutes until they finally reached Archie’s car, the only one in the Sweetwater parking lot.  Not many people went hiking at 4 a.m., let alone to go chase down a kidnapped ex.

             Thunder rolled above them, the vibrations lingering deep in her bones, and they leaned around the car.  Jughead’s hand were on his knees, his breath gasping and desperate. His wiped at the water trickling down his face and coughed hard.  Betty kneeled on the ground, hands grasping at the loose asphalt as she forced herself to focus on counting rather than what she’d encountered tonight.

             “What the hell was that for?” Jughead wheezed.

             Betty shook her head, still unable to talk through her sore throat.  She let out a slow breath – 1, 2, 3, 4 – and breathed in again.

             “Why’d you try and save me?” he yelled over the thunder.  A crack of lightening illuminated them and she was startled by the intensity in his eyes.

             “Did you want me to leave you back in there?” she shot back.  Stars colored her eyes as she tried to stand, and she listed to one side, grasping for the car to keep her balance.

             Jughead snarled and paced towards the far end of the parking lot, ignoring the pouring rain around them.  From his limp, Betty assumed he had a Charlie Horse.  Betty wanted to chide him about not taking care of his body, about his inability to treat it as something better than a dumpster for all his repressed feelings.  It wasn’t her place, though.  Not anymore.

             Besides, it seemed cruel to point out, especially after he’d been on the verge of being tortured –

             “I don’t need your help,” he said when he returned, his words still punctured by small gasps.  “I had everything covered.”

             She snorted and stood up to face him.  A chill ran through her as the wind picked up, but she diverted the movement into massaging at her damaged wrist.  Jughead, still as perceptive as ever, didn’t miss her wince. He reached towards her, his eyes fixed on her wrist.  Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped short and bent over to retie his shoe.  

             Even from this angle Betty could see how thin he was.

             “I’m sure you did,” she said.  Even as the adrenaline seeped out of her body she still couldn’t keep the acid from her voice.  “That great, big escape plan of yours was going swell, though I’m curious as to what you were planning after you got chained up in the basement and held to the wall with duct tape.  Or did I miss something when I broke in?”

             Half her words were covered up by an angry burst of thunder.  Perhaps it was for the best; they’d both been through a lot.  Or, perhaps it would have been better to put it all out there, fight out their anger until there was nothing left remaining.

             Jughead’s lip curled, and Betty knew he’d caught enough.

             Betty narrowed her eyes.  Despite everything, she still didn’t know whether to trust him. There had been too much time between them, too much space and anger and -  Not to mention his aliens and her serial killer.

             “You can’t drive stick with a broken wrist.”

             “It’s not broken,” she said petulantly, her lip pursed like Juniper’s when she didn’t get the last cookie.

             Knowing that he was right, she dug into her coat pocket, angry with Jughead and herself.  Another gust of wind blew through their wet cloths, and they huddled into the cab of the truck.  As the engine turned over, Jughead scrubbed at the window with his damp shirtsleeves, trying to break through the fog that had followed them.  The water streaked across, unable to change, and he gave up on the idea.  With a grunt, he shifted into drive and turned towards town.

             “Stupid,” he muttered, and Betty side-eyed him.  

             Her first instinct was that he was talking about her, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping.  After everything she’d done tonight, and he still couldn’t think anyone could care for him.  Betty stared out of the window, her fingers pushing and prodding against the delicate skin on her wrist, revealing in the sharp jolts of pain and irritation. Eventually the pain cleared through her fog of anger and she realized he was likely talking to himself.

             “Just –“

             Jughead stopped, cursing under his breath.  They came to a blind curve, halfway under water, and he shifted to first gear.  As they crept along Betty’s eyes began to shut.  She could feel her muscles relaxing as the adrenaline wore off, and the only thing that kept her awake was the potholes in the road.  In the flashes of lightening above them, she could see Jughead’s jaw clenching as he worked to keep something in check.

             Fine, she thought idly as darkness consumed her. Let him be mad.  It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t want to be near her.

             She was startled awake when the engine stopped. In front of them was the Andrews’ home, normally bright and cheery, but in this light it was eerily still in the pouring rain.

             “He’s not home tonight,” Jughead said flatly.  “You can stay in his room.  Unless you want to go home.”

             Betty shook her head, trying not to let her fear overtake her.  The house was empty and would be for the next week.  They still hadn’t heard anything about Polly, and Alice had taken the twins upstate to try and get their mind off of it.  After tonight (any night, every night, ever since – she cut off that particular voice, struggling to keep that terrible week out of her head), the last thing she wanted to do was to be alone.  

             The thought sent a shudder through her and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep the chill from sprinting down her back.

             Jughead nodded, still staring straight ahead.  He’d pulled the keys from the ignition and was now jangling them in his hand.  He opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, not seeming to care whether Betty followed him or not.  She scrambled out of the car, towards the front door and slipped in after him.

             She held her breath, waiting in the long stretch of dark, for the lights to turn on.   When they did, it was nothing more than Archie’s living room, still messy and smelling slightly of old clothing and pizza.  

             Jughead stalked towards the kitchen, his face set in an emotion she couldn’t discern anymore.  A gut feeling told her it was because she was a stranger here, one who was encroaching not only on his ‘investigation’ but also on his personal space.  

             “I’ll make coffee,” Jughead said gruffly.  “Take a shower or you’ll catch a cold.”

             The way he’d said it, matter-of-factly and without any emotion behind it, contrasted so sharply with the fact that he’d remembered. He remembered, and wanted to let her know he’d remembered that she was prone to get colds when it rained. These little things twisted the knife deeper into her back and she tried not to think about her last foray into this home.

             “Thanks,” Betty said softly.

             She barely glanced at the mirror when she stepped into the bathroom.  A thick cover of mud coated her lower half, while leaves had taken up residence in her hair.  Her wrist, still throbbing and sore, was a swollen bright red.  As bad as she might have looked, Betty revealed in the metaphorical duality of it all.  Long ago, she might have said she was a good person, untouched by the corruption of life. Now, though, she felt as dirty and broken as she  looked.

             Pity about the boots though.  Real suede apparently didn’t mix well with the more wild side of life.  Betty didn’t dare think about what it would cost to buy Veronica a new pair.

             The pipes groaned as the water warmed up.  Peeling off her clothes was a chore, the damp, clinging clothes didn’t want to cooperate.  The wet slap of them on the floor was a loud echo as she stepped into the shower.  

             The warm water was practically sinful after tonight. She let it cascade down her skin and shut her eyes to the world around her.  Every inch of her body felt sore and bruised.  She dreaded even thinking about how she’d feel tomorrow.

             A draft of cold air sent goosebumps along her skin and Betty stilled.  She trusted Jughead, of course, and yet…

             The door shut again, and she peered around the curtain to find a set of clothing on the counter.  Her heart stopped when she recognized a grey S from so long ago.  Reluctant to let it out of her sight, Betty pulled the shower curtain to.   He’d always had a bad habit of forming sentimental attachments to things, to items that had no right to such kindness.

             But to have kept that shirt all these years?  To have kept her shirt?  Surely not.  Surely her eyes, tired and sore from lack of sleep, had deceived her.

             The ghost of her guilt churned again, deeper this time. A sharp pain went through her stomach – of guilt?  regret? hope?

             Betty picked up the bar of soap in her uninjured hand and scrubbed at her skin, hot tears running cold against her cheeks.  Careless.  She was always so careless with everything worth while.  Archie’s hands ghosted across her skin, his lips, his whispers they both knew were lies.  She was only looking for an escape, not another well to get trapped in.  This time, though, she couldn’t think of a single way to escape.

             A sob broke from her lips, and then another, and another.  She shoved her fist against her mouth and curled up at the bottom of the tub.   It was all she could do to keep from breaking up.  A part of her, the one that saw reason, was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier tonight when she’d seen Jughead half-conscious with a red welt on his forehead.  His head lolled absently against a support beam.  His hands tightly bound with duct tape.  Tight enough they were turning purple.  Those stupid glasses lay at his feet only to reflect the beam of her flashlight onto the chains that bound him.

             Images, real and imagined, flashed before her eyes. The well.  TBK laughing above her.  Polly, bound and gagged in the back of a cab.  The twins, facedown in Sweetwater. Squeeky Fromme’s dead eyes staring up at the night sky, milky and flat.  Jughead’s hands –

             Betty shook her head, trying to shake the images away. No, that hadn’t happened, she chanted internally.  It’s not real.  

             Not this time.  

             Long after the water had run cold, Betty finally came back to herself.  Her movements were slow and forced; her head felt uselessly full of cotton.  With a groan, she stood up and gasped as pins and needles threw her back to the ground.  Unable to do anything, Betty turned off the water, gritting her teeth as she waited for the feeling to come back into her legs.  

             Into her life, even.

             Now, with only the steady drip of a leaky faucet to keep her company, Betty heard just how quiet it was in the house.  The wind blew outside, stronger than ever, but it seemed as if the house itself had gone into hibernation.  Jughead had likely gone to bed, she realized.  Or maybe he’d been smart enough to know he should see a doctor after all.

             Perhaps that would be best.  Then they could both pretend tonight had never happened and go back to the chilly detente they’d found themselves living in.  

             With an anticipatory wince, Betty hauled herself up and out of the tub.  As she reached for the towel, she realized that the shirt loudly proclaimed ‘El Royale Gym’ in bright red letters.  She scowled at the dancing rooster, ordering it to be something other than it was. Clearly, though, she’d been wrong.

             Roughly, she pulled the shirt over her head, her damp hair catching at the collar, and stepped into the gym shorts.  Why she put herself through this, why she tortured herself with something so impossible –

             “Coffee’s on the counter,” Jughead said when she stepped out.  His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screen.

             At least some things never changed, she supposed. Even that, though, rang hollow after what they’d been through tonight.  

             Betty wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for something to occupy herself with.  She sipped at it a moment, giving him the chance to say something.  Do something.  When he didn’t, she didn’t know whether she felt relief, or disappointment.

             It wasn’t until she reached the stairs that he finally spoke.

             “Just tell me why you did it,” he said.  

She hesitated, knowing that this was her own personal Maginot line. Crossing this would mean the end of one life, and the beginning of another strange reality, one where she would have no control.

“Why did you come after me?  Why didn’t you call Sheriff Keller, or Archie, or –“

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Betty said.  Her voice was no more than a soft sigh, but it was enough to bring about a sudden calmness.

The calm before the storm, she thought morbidly.  Whatever would happen now, whatever was said…

She waited, counting to a hundred.  When he didn’t say anything, she set the coffee down on a side table and went to Archie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her.

(Part 2 here)

[pricescigar]

Resident Evil 8 AU

For @adlerboi and our Male Dimitrescu, also mention her RE8 OC Dan!

Summary: After a dreadful encounter Elvira Wolff had with Chris Redfield, Elvira finds herself in a village. . . A Village filled with mutant creatures.

Long ago, a young woman found herself awake in the cold, dark and desolate forest.  In the freezing cold, the cold air whispering in her ear. Chills running down her whole body, shivering, holding herself ever so clearly for the warmth she needed. Finding such will and courage, she journeyed her way through into the unknown or what may lie ahead of her. At the end of the forest, her eyes met a large castle. For the bell was tolled echoing all through out the village, the monsters of all the village grew wild. For attacking the stranger that bestowed upon their terroritory. Managing to escape from the beasts grasps, and finding herself on the way to the ancient castle. While trying to find the warmth and shelter, one of the many monsters found her. Knocking her out, while the other monsters called out to the summon. The great witch appeared, his darken figure, dark yet regal . . . Darkness appeared around her. For she, the fly got trapped within the spiders web.  Until then suddenly. . . The bat lord had suddenly appeared! It's great wings spread out, high and mighty. Saving her from such darkness that tried to engulf her . . . Whisking her away to it's grand castle, there would his sons would be and his brother. Endlessly fighting for her life, terrified, scared and lonely. Feeling the hatred and burden of it all. In the howling night, the girl struggled to sleep. Tossing and turning in her newly found bed, in no hopes of being able to return back to her old life. The nightmares catching up to her . . . Yet then again, to save her from those retched thoughts, the bat lord once again was always there.

With his wise and cunning words, his voice sweet and deep like honey. Softly and tenderly tending to her every need to calm her, to soothe her saying to her, in the dark of the night: "My dear, come to me. But do not fret, for i an your guide, your shelter, your protector. Of night and day. . . Until the end of time." Dietrich finally finished reading and had  closed the book.

"What's with the scary story Vater? Don't you think I'm a bit old for stories . . . I'm eighteen years old after all." Elvira asked in curiosity, crossing her arms in confusion.

"I got it from the local store, the woman said to me that it was a traditional book to read. Apparently it's for all ages... It's yours anyways. Not mine. So keep it. Anyways, I don't know why you're complaining, you don't seem to mind it." Dietrich then handed her over the book, which was called 'The Book of Shadows.'

"Well—... Nein I don't but, ah it doesn't matter. What really matters is that I'm glad we moved here. So we won't have to deal with anything that happened... Remember?" Elvira replied looking at him.

"There's nothing wrong with my memory, you're just being paranoid." Dietrich suddenly said to her in a cold tone.

"What? It's not— Nevermind, I apologise Vater... I'm just cautious..." Elvira softly replied to him.

"Then why don't you cautiously, go upstairs. And put your new book away? And wash your hands? Dinner is almost ready." Dietrich then got up and headed over to the kitchen.

Elvira held the book sighing softly getting up from the sofa heading up the stairs, before laughing to herself. "Bat lord ... Monsters ..." She muttered, walking across the corridor and walking into her room. Flipping through the pages again, seeing the bat lord before then closing it. "I wonder what it actually means..." She placed the book upon her bookshelf, walking out to head to the bathroom to wash her hands.

Washing her hands with soap and drying her hands with a towel, that was hung up. Her eyes looked over to the medication that was left out for her father to take. Ever since the incident three years ago, he had been on strict medication. She wished that her father wouldn't forget what had happened three years ago, still it felt like to Elvira that part of her was stuck back there. Even coming back to Europe, and moving to Romania. . . She knew her father didn't like talking about it, Elvira wished her father could face what happened just so the two could move on in peace. And for the foreseeable future, to save himself and herself hopefully. For better or for worse.

Elvira walked out of the bathroom, ready to go downstairs and finding an old news paper which dated back to 2017.

"Curtain Closes on The Dulvey Gas Incident The committee completed their investigation on the 18th into the Dulvey toxic gas leak in Louisiana in 2017. They concluded the deaths were caused by a leak of natural gas that had built up in the mudrock under the area. Jack Baker (57) and his family. Who were exposed to the gas, perished. Dietrich Wolff and his daughter, were also believed to be have been nearby. But their current whereabouts are unknown. The entire area has been closed off by officials who believe it will be at least 10 years before the area is habitable again."

Only but a sigh escaped Elvira's lips, folding the newspaper leaving it where she found it. "Three years already... And people had forgotten about it. I wonder what mutter would've said about all of this.." She softly spoke to herself. Finally heading down the stairs and into the kitchen, where her father was cooking their dinner.

"So ... What are you cooking for dinner then?" Elvira finally asked, walking into the kitchen to see what he was cooking for them.

"Ciorba de legume, it's a local recipe they gave me... Thought I'd try." Dietrich replied with a shrug, as he continued to cook.

"Full on native Vater." Elvira teased a bit, chuckling to herself. Hopefully he knew she was joking, and she went over to the table and sat down.

Dietrich in the process got drinks for them, and set them down onto the table as well. As he looked over to her. "Local wine too... I can't since I have to take the medication, so you can have it all." He replied before then sighing. "You know, you really need to stop worrying so much..." He shook his head.

"Well it's just... Finding you in Lousiana, Chris moving us here. Me going into military training— Look it happened all so fast you know?" Elvira looked up to her father.

Dietrich rolled his eyes, placed the bottle of wine down and glancing over to her. "Well. At least both of us are together, you and I. Now, everything is going to be—"

"Nein. Seriously Vater... You think we can forget about what the hell happened in Louisana?" Elvira suddenly interrupted him, with a stern voice.

"It happened so long ago, I don't know why you're so—" Dietrich then got shot in the shoulder, as he looked to the bullet wound.

"What the—?!" Elvira stared in shock, finally getting the words out of her mouth.

"Vater! Get down now!" She said to him.

The lights of the house went out, Dietrich got shot more a couple of times. His body falling onto the table, groaning in pain.

"Vater!" Elvira shouted immediately getting under the table, to shelter herself from the incoming storm of the bullets. Hiding under the table, as the house was continuing to be shelled with multiple bullets. Dietrich's body falling down to the floor, near where Elvira was. "Mein gott.. Fuck... What the fuck?!" She spoke with a hoarse whisper.

Another pair of footsteps could be heard within the house, Elvira seeing them approaching over to the table. Suddenly pushing the table aside, when she looked up to see who it was revealing to be Chris Redfield. Who was holding a gun in his right hand.

"Chris— What the hell?!" Elvira looked up at him with pure disgust and anger.

"Sorry Elvira..." Chris aimed his gun over to Dietrich's body, putting a couple of bullets in his head.

"What?! Nein! Why!" Elvira shouted at Chris, Chris' soldiers had her surrounded and lifted her up from the floor. And lead her out of the house, where the door was open. Chris himself waiting over by the door.  The man didn't say a single word to her.

"Come on move it!" The soldier behind her pushed Elvira forward towards the door, to make her walk quicker.

"Why the hell did you kill my father? You're a liar." Elvira asked in anger, looking over to Chris.

"Take her away." Chris ordered his soldiers, simply ignoring her shouting. Turning his back towards Elvira, and walked towards the door.

"Why did you kill my Vater?!" Elvira shouted again in a demanding tone, grabbing Chris by his arm. Desperately wanting an answer.

"Elvira, no!" Chris turned to look at her.

The soldier who was behind Elvira, suddenly  hit her at the back of her head, with the butt of his gun. Her body falling to the floor, with a loud thud.

"Get her out of here, now." Chris ordered.

Two soldiers grabbed her by the feet, and dragged her out of the house. As Elvira was slowly losing conciseness.

"Vater..." She whispered softly, falling  unconscious.

Elvira soon woke up from a phone call ... Within the snow, slowly gaining her consciousness. "Ah... Fucking Scheisse..." She groaned in pain, her hand reaching over to the phone that was near a body of a soldier. The phone was continuously ringing, it was an unknown number.

"About time that you answered the phone! Where are you? Do you have the girl with you?" The man spoke over the phone in a demanding tone.

"What the flying fuck are you talking about? Where the hell is Chris Redfield?" Elvira asked in a confused tone.

"Who the hell is this? This is a secure channel, you are not authorised to use it." The phone that was already severely damaged, turned itself off.

"What's happening here... Why me..." Elvira muttered picking up a torch from one of the fallen soldiers, and began to read the document near the soldier.

Mission Objectives:

- Eliminate target, recover body.

- Secure Elvira Wolff

Move her to Site C for further investigation, at last two transport officers to accompany them.

Elvira then began walking in the deep snow at night, barely alive. Shivering, hugging her body close in order to keep her warm. She passed a small old fence wrapped with barbed wire. Crawling under, to get through. There is a sign next to the fence that simply read “Do Not Enter.” There are a lot of dead crows in the snow. Some of them are even tied up with ropes, which tells us that the birds died unnaturally. Soon she found a small old house with a trail of blood leading to it. Elvira then heard a noise, down in the basement of the house and decided to go and check what the noise was. Deciding to look for the owners of the house, yet no one had seemed to be here... Noise from up above could be heard, a large and rumbling noise. Immediately Elvira looked up, and her first indication was to run back up to investigate. Even a bigger mess in the house than before, and a huge hole in within the wall of the house.

"What the hell is happening here?" Elvira questioned to herself getting out of the house thank to the new hole that was there. Walking through the narrow passage through the skinny trees, moving many branches away. Until she came across a large and open area, a giant castle in the distance covered in fog. The bell chiming in the distance.

"... Where the hell am I exactly?" Elvira had never heard of this place before, yet alone even seeing it on maps or anywhere else. Climbing down a small slope, and walking down. Still freezing cold, walking into a farm house. All furniture scattered around. It was a complete mess. Crimson blood splattered on the wall, it looked fresh. And it followed outside of the house, gradually she began to follow it.

"Maybe— Maybe they're out?" Elvira spoke reassuringly to herself, the village was silent. Desolate, abandoned almost. Walking down the path, coming across severed goat heads that was hung up.

"What happened here..." She whispered to herself, trying to calm her own nerves that was slowly building up.

Walking into a nearby house and finding a knife, Elvira went over and grabbed it from the chopping board. Looking over to see a curtain that divided the rest of the house, cautiously walking over to it. And sharply moves the curtain away, as she did that. An old man shoots at her. But miracously he missed.

"Ah! Scheisse I'm a goddamn friendly, friendly! Careful where you're shooting!" Elvira immediately dodged and put her hands up in defense. "Who are you? Who sent you here?" The old man asked her, finally lowering his double barrel gun.

"Nobody! I had an accident down the road from here and—" Elvira tried to explain herself. A loud howling noise could be heard from outside, and the old man had gestured her to be quiet.

"What's going on?" Elvira asked.

"Oh no... They're coming!" The old man said.

"Who is?" And what the hell was that noise?" Elvira looked outside of the window.

"Do you have a gun with you?" The old man asked, going over to the window to see what was going on outside.

"What?" Elvira looked at him confused.

"Please tell me you have a gun with you!" The old man frantically asked her.

"N-Nein ... Why would I?" Elvira replied.

The old man went to the storage room, grabbing his and only spare gun handing it over to her. "Take it! Just take it please!" The old man begged her, shooting out of the window and reloading his double barrel he had.

"Sir! ... Please tell me what’s going on out there please ... Ars you even listening to me? Hey!" Elvira said to him.

A strong arm suddenly grabbed the old man, and pulled him up to the top floor through the ceiling. Blood was dripping down to the floor.

"Fuck!" Elvira cursed, another arm grabbed Elvira's foot though the floor and pulling her down from the basement and to the floor.

"Schiesee..." She groaned in pain, whatever pulled her down frantically ran away from her.

Turning on her torch, revealing many dead bodies. All piled up together. Immediately realises there's a pile of dead bodies right next to her.

"What the fuck is wrong with this place?" Elvira caught her breath, shaking her head trying to make her way through. And then ... The beast decided to come back and to attack her again, a humanoid creature. Pale skin, and ashy air. Fast and agile, as it attacked Elvira.

"Get off!  Get off of me?! Fuck!" Elvira shouted, the beast threw her out of the flimsy wall. Falling out into the snow groaning in pain, before she got up as the beast walked out. Getting her gun out, beginning to shoot down the beast. Taking ten bullets to take him down.

"What the fuck?" Her eyes looked over to a gate that had been locked with chains, she needed to get bolt cutter if she wished to process more into the village. Heading back into the house finding the bolt cutters she needed, chemical fluid and some herbs to make herself medicine to help her wound. Cutting the chain and leaving the bolt cutters on the floor, finally progressing. Eventually coming across to another house that was abandoned, walking into the house. Hearing the same noise again, fight or flight kicked in and barricaded herself into the house. The creates began to try and attack her, as she tried to get herself more ammo to fight for her life in the house. Fighting for her own life, the noise soon died down. Silence met her once again.

"Oh— Is it over finally?" Elvira sighed with relief, the radio that was there was in static finally getting a signal as she looked over to it. A woman's voice could be heard.

<Hello? If there are any survivors out there, come to my—to Luiza's house near the fields.>

"There's survivors? Finally..." Elvira muttered, the barricade was already broken pushing the door open with effort. Continuing her journey through the village, there were plenty of creatures out and about again. Finding another house to barricade herself in, she looked over to see a M1897 Shotgun. Luckily it had some ammo in it as she grabbed it.

"Fuck this, I'm using it." Ready to fight off another attack. And so she did, a second wave of an attack happened. But the numbers grew larger and larger each second...

"There's no end!" Elvira cried out with anger, using the ladder to escape from the house. Even the creatures started climbing to the roof, arrows flying everywhere. Even a large monster appearing with a heavy hammer. The many monsters on horseback, with weapons by their side. After a few minutes of fighting she lost.... The monsters crowding around her, the large beast that was there. Jumped over to Elvira growling in her face, hearing a bell chiming in the distance. The large beast jumped away, seemingly the others followed him.

Elvira gave herself some time to attend to her wounds, sighing softly. Using the first aid tools that she had with her. Looking over to see an old woman in the distance, staff in hand by the red gates seeing her and walked away.

"Hey— Wait!" Elvira quickly got up watching the old woman walk away, before ending up following her to see where she had walked off to.

The old woman was simply muttering to herself, not paying attention at all whatsoever.

"In life and death we give glory ..." She said softly.

Elvira approached over to the old woman. "Hallo? Um— It's not safe out here miss, what the hell ... Hey can you hear me?" She asked.

"It's you! The child of that father..." The old woman looked at her curiously, a smile appearing on her face.

"What father— ... Wait do you mean Dietrich? My father? That's my vater" Elvira suddenly asked with a puzzled look across her face. Hopefully this old woman could have some answers.

"Dietrich! Dietrich! Yes." The old woman spoke in a cheerful tone, before it changed back to such seriousness.

"You shouldn't of come here, you are in great danger. Since Father Monroe had brought you here, great danger will befall on you." She said.

"What do you mean? You mean about the monsters?" Elvira asked, the sound of a bell was heard again and she looked up to where she heard the noise.

"Oh! The Castle bell! It hearls danger! They're coming!" The old woman laughed madly, beginning to leave. Leaving where Elvira was, standing confused as ever.

"...Hold on just a second! Who are you? Where am I? And who the hell is "Father Monroe"?" Elvira asked her, watching her leave. Seeing her go over to the gates, leaving her there.

"The bell tolls for us all! They're coming again!" The old woman laughed madly again, closing the gate behind her.

"... Where the hell am I then..." Elvira softly muttered, feeling hopeless and confused at this point. After that, Elvira gradually moves on. She then enters a large house, with a beautifully carved porch and icons at the entrance. Inside, upon seeing some kind of magical symbol on the floor, stacked with candles. Elvira could've sworn to herself she has seen this symbol before, but fortunately she didn't pay much attention to it. Finally beginning to explore the vast village, upon the centre of the village is a statue and a small cemetery. Not far from it, finding an alter with a goat. An inscription was under it.

<We offer these Goats of Warding to protect the village and its people. Any who break them shall feel Father Monroe's wrath.>

Eventually Elvira went over to a large stone door, with two carvings; One of  a demon and a female warrior. Yet their heads were missing, and there were indentations of their places. In one of the houses she explored in, finding a map with a handwriting. To which it said:

“Should disaster fall upon the village, seek out the crests. One is in the care of the church. The other is at Luiza's house.”

Elvira easily found the first crest for the stone door, The Maiden Crest. She walks out to a field of tall, dried-up wheat. No source of water, all the dried up soil from harsh winter. She's then suddenly attacked by several creatures with machetes in their hands. Elvira quickly quilts into a bag of flour, temporarily blinding his enemies and killing them with his knife. Quick and easy slices Soon she finds a barn and enters it.

"Please! Close the door!" A frightened woman could be heard.

Elvira then quickly closed the door, to make sure none of the monsters would come in. And looked over where she could hear her voice. Looking to her confused.

"Hallo... What are you doing here?" She asked her, slowly approaching over to her. But making sure she perfectly kept her distance. While she backed away, Elvira noticed and old man on the floor bleeding to death. Holding a machete within his hands, trying to keep his breathing calm.

"Stay back! Stay back now!" The old man spoke in a serious tone, aiming the machete at Elvira.

"Nein! I won't hurt you, I'm not here to hurt you... I'm just glad to see normal people for once..." Elvira puts her hands up in defence, a sigh parting from her lips. And finally placing her hands down. "Have you seen any over survivors?" She finally asked.

"No! ... All of the survivors are in Luiza's house, and she's not answering... The door is also locked too..." The woman explained to her in a panic.

"Be quiet girl! She's nothing but an outsider." The old man spoke harshly, another noise could be heard from afar. More monsters were drawing close upon the village.

"Mein gott, we need to get out of here quickly... Your father? Is he able to walk?" Elvira asked.

"No, one of the monsters had cut him! That's why we have to get in that house now! We have to get into Luiza's house!" The girl spoke again.

"Shh!" Elvira quickly hushed her, so their location and cover wouldn't be revealed. Before then slowly nodding to her.

"Right ok... There must be a way inside, stay here, stay inside... Be quiet,  I will go outside and see. Don't move until you see those gates open" She replied.

The old man was coughing— He was clearly sick, Elvira didn't want to delay any longer and she went outside, quickly trying to find a way to open the gate.

"Come on you two! The coast is clear!" Elvira called out for them. As Elvira said that the young girl and old man came out, the girl helping the old man. One hand over her shoulder, as they rushed in.

"Took your damn time." The old man muttered.

"My pleasure sir." Elvira replied, closing the gate and locking it.

"He's not used to relying on other people, I'm sorry... We'll all be safe in here? Won't we?" The girl looked over to Elvira, seemingly with a hopeful look.

"Safer in here than it is out there, hey do you know what’s happening around here?" Elvira asked politely.

"We don't know! Father Monroe had always protected us!" The girl said to Elvira, keeping her hands on the old man's shoulders.

The old man's condition worsen as he fell into the fronof the house, coughing up blood and holding onto his wound.

"Don't worry papa we'll get you inside soon!" The woman knelt down to her father.

Elvira went over to the door, knocking on it as she spoke. "Hallo is anyone home?" She asked knocking on the door again couple of times once again. And still no answer.

"Oh a familiar voice will help... Luiza it's me Elena! Please open the door!" Elena sent to the door, but it suddenly opened and a double barrel shot gun was seen.

"If you continue to shout... The monsters will hear you!" A man hissed, glaring at her.

"Julian please... Calm down..." Elena said to him.

Julian then aimed the shotgun right at Elvira as she then puts her hands up in defence.

"Who is this girl?" He asked.

"A friend-" Elena tired to speak but she was immediately interrupted.

"Stay back!" Julian said, as Elvira moved a few feet back away from him. Not wanting to anger him more.

"My father for gods sake! Julian, let us in the house." Elena protests.

"No, no, they'll smell the blood! You'll endanger us all!" Julian argued with her.

"My father will die out here." Elena argued back to him.

"That's not my problem." Julian replied bluntly.

"What's going on out here?" Luiza then came over to see what was going on, after hearing the constant shouting outside.

"These... People, they want to let a dying man into our home." Julian said putting his gun down, looking over to Luiza.

"Come now. "These people" Are our friends, come on go inside you two." Luiza said to Elena and her father, as the two immediately went inside of the house.

"You're not from this village..." Luiza said looking at Elvira, observing her closely.

"Um, nein. I'm Elvira miss." Elvira politely replied, looking at her smiling nervously.

"Julian. Go make yourself useful and go and patrol the grounds, go." Luiza ordered, and with that Julian then walked away.

"Well... Elvira. If Elena trusted you, and so do I. Please come into the house." Luiza motioned her hand, and Elvira nodded 3akking into the house. The door closed behind them.

"If you'll wait here, I'll go on and check the others." Luiza walked away, which gave Elvira time to take a good look around. She then found a note that was left on a chair, as she began to read it.

<They broke in again, got more of the livestock. I don't think we'll make it through winter at this rate. Ernest is still missing, too. We can't find him anywhere. Has Father Monroe abandoned us?>

Luiza then returned and smiled at Elvira a little. "This way, Elvira please follow me." She replied walking away.

Elvira nodded and began following her into the corridor. As she walks through the corridors of Luiza's house, which looks a bit like the Baker house. Which gave her an odd feeling of nostalgia. Nether the less, trying to forget what had happened three years ago Behind a carpeted doorway she finds a room full of people.

"What the fuck is this? An outsider?! You’re going to get us all killed!" A drunk man spoke with anger.

"Be quiet Anton she helped Leonardo and Elena." Luiza then grabbed a seat, motioning Elvira to sit down. As she did.

"We was doing just fine by ourselves..." Leonardo muttered, shaking his head.

"So is this all you have left... From your entire village?" Elvira asked looking over at everyone who was there.

"All that's left? All that's left!? There is no one left!." He said beginning to walk around the room. Holding a bottle of beer in his hand. "A worthless invalid! A stupid, wailing bitch…! And you! You drag a bloody man and an outsider in here like it's nothing… …and expect to be all safe? There is no safe! Every sorry bastard out there has been ripped in half! But tomorrow… Tomorrow we'll all be dead. Just like her damn husband! (the woman of course started to cry) Put a sock in it, Roxana!" Anton finally finished his lecture.

"That's enough! This house has protected my family for generations, drunk or not. You're all well one here, and safe her." Luiza said.

"Whatever." Anton nonchantly replied.

"Wait Luiza! Your husband... Did they?" Elena asked.

"N-No they haven't returned back here yet... They've gone to get help... Yes! They've gone to get help." Luiza kept herself reassured.

"Then let us pray, for him and for all of us." Roxanna suggested.

"Good idea, come around." Luiza said, as they all gathered in a cricket together. Holding hands. And in sync they began to pray together.

"Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee within the endless dark to deliver us into fate's hands. As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end. In life and in death, we give glory, Father Monroe." They all finished, and let go of each others hands.

"Now... The tea should be ready, Elena please come and help me." Luiza said, as Elena nodded and walked away.

"That prayer I heard it before, and there was an old woman by the cemetery too." Elvira said.

Leonardo then laughed and then looked at Elvira. "You mean the hag? Dumb bitch is crazy like a bag of rats." He hissed.

"There is wisdom in her devotion though... And I hope it protected her as it shall protect us." Luiza said.

Leonardo continued to laugh, suddenly screaming in pain and fell onto the table which caused the oil lap to fall as well onto the carpet catching on fire.

"What the fuck are you doing? What is wrong with you?!" Anton shouted at him, backing away from the table.

"Leonardo what's wrong are you ok?" Luiza asked going over towards him, with a concerned look over her face.

Leonardo was turning into something else and he then stabbed Luiza on her machete, blood coming out everywhere.

"Father!" Elena shouted going over towards him.

"Nein! Elena stay back, that's not your father anymore!" Elvira said grabbing her hand, quickly taking her out of the room. As Leonardo killed Roxanna, and the rest of the survivors.

"No! Let me go now!" Elena demanded.

"What? Nein, mein gott he'll kill us both! We need to go now!" Elvira said, as both of them was fighting for their lives.  Elvira was taken down on the ground, as she had no more bullets to fight with in her gun. And Leonardo trying to kill her.

"Elena?" Elvira asked confused as she was on the ground

"I said no!" Elena went towards her father with a double barrelled shotgun, shooting him back. As the wooden pillars fell on Leonardo.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry father..." Elena realised what she had done, and was in shock looking at him.

"Hey, hey, listen that wasn't your father anymore you did the right thing." Elvira placed her hands on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring look.

"Elena, nein there's nothing else you can do."

"Father!" Elena cried out, as Elvira and her rushed over to the garage and she closed the door. So the fire wouldn't spread. Elvira stood by the door momentarily sighing in relief, and shook her head.

"You couldn't of save him... He was already gone Elena." Elvira went over to her, she looked around knowing they had to get out of here.

"Leave me alone." Elena said through her tears.

"Nein. We're going to get out of here together, I'm not going to leave you behind." Elvira replied beginning to walk around, in the kitchen she found a screwdriver and a note.

<Take the screwdriver out of the keyring if you need it>

Elvira luckily found the keys to the rusty old truck, and immediately went towards it. The fire spreading quickly into the garage, knowing the two women had to escape from Luiza's house.

"Fuck the fire is spreading through the garage fast, we need to escape from here. I got an idea." Elvira replied, getting into the car and staring up the engine.

After she started up the engine and with enough power, she went through a couple of walls sucessfully getting to the front part of the house.

"Elvira— Elvira are you ok?" Elena rushed over to Elvira.

"I-I'm fine, let me back up again." Elvira sighed softly.

"The fire— There isn't time anymore!" Elena said to her.

"Nowhere to go but up, hurry up let's move ok?" Elvira said and getting out of the window and got up, helping Elena up the staircase and the two women went up stairs.

"Don't try and brave into the smoke." Elvira advised.

"I know, thank you Elvira... You're really kind, I hope your family was safe." Elena said walking with her.

"Uhm... Ja I do too, come it'll hold the way our is that window." Elvira shook her head a little, and they got up to the attic.

"Oh thank god, but what then? The whole village is full of monsters we'll never be safe. We can't fight them!" Elena said.

"Don't talk like that, trust me I can find you a safe house to put you in and go somewhere else to investigate what's going on here. Starting with that castle." Elvira replied.

"That castle is filled with nothing but blood and death! And also I don't be alone while you're—" Elena's father had unexpectedly showed up climbing onto the second floor, and he was severely burnt.

"Father?" Elena turned to look at him

"Elena, are you crazy that's not him anymore!" Elvira hissed at him.

"Elena..." Leonardo managed to say.

"He said my name Elvira! Don't worry father I'm coming!" Elena said going towards him, and down to get to her father.

"Hold on it isn't safe! God damnit..." Elvira muttered watching her as the floor was slowly beginning to break.

"Elvira just go! Leave us!" Elena shouted refusing to give out her hand to her.

"I'm not leaving you!" Elvira said trying to reach it, Leonardo fell and Elena fell after him as they both had fallen into the firey abyss.

"Why is everyone dying on me?!" Elvira cried out in anger, before she got up and went over to the window. In complete and utter disbelief.

"This... This is too much for me, this place has gone mad." Then punching a window in anger. "Why is this happening again?! Fuck!" She shouted.

She jumps out the window of the burning house, goes to the closed altar, unscrews the screws with his newly found screwdriver, and gets the second crest for the door to the castle - Demon Crest. She opens the locked gate and sees someone killing a man on the field.

"Huh...— Who's there?!" Elvira asked.

"Stop! Father Monroe, what are you doing?!" Julian shouted.

The man easily kills Julian, laughing with a cricket behind his back was all Elvira could see watching the man walk away.

"Fuck... Who was that?" Elvira muttered eventually meeting the old woman once again with the staff, making a marking on the ground. "Death... Yes, death has visited them all." The old woman madly laughs, continuing to make the marking on the ground. As Elvira went over to the castle.

"Nothing but blood and death, ja?" Elvira scoffed to herself, going towards the mighty large castle.

Elvira walks slowly toward the castle. Walking through the lowered gate, she plunges into the dark cavern, lit only by the light of small torches on the walls. Elvira enters the wine cellar of the castle. As she is about to lower the handle opening the locked door, a woman wearing a hat and sunglasses approaches her. The woman is holding a hammer, which looks suspiciously familiar to Elvira … "Well, well didn't think anyone was left you must be pretty tough..." The woman's footsteps sent all flying metal objects around her, smoking a cigar.

"Who the fuck are you?" Elvira bluntly asked her.

"Oh... You're not local, even better." The man said. He shot a metal pole at her shoulder, stabbing her as all the metal that was flying around him went to her. "Father Monroe is going to love you." The man said and it faded into darkness.

The pull and dragging of her body woken her again, as she was all chained up. The bits of metal finally falling off of her, Elvira stirred a bit as she tired to stop her body from being pulled but it was no use.

"Oh quit your wining! Were almost there!" Heisenberg said to her cheerfully, as he continued to drag her to wherever there was going. Elvira didn't know. This all had to be a bad, bad dream... Right? At least the last single of hope she had, it was all slowly fading away.

"The girl is no used to us anyways, why the hell did you being her here?! A human, you've gone mad father Monroe." Dan's voice could be heard, the younger brother of Azariel Dimitrescu. Very much different than his older brother.

"Remember the story." Father Monroe would say wisely, adding no further statement to Dan's argument.

Elvira slowly whenever you as she groaned softly in pain. Her eyes slowly opening again, her eyes met to a little porcine doll whom was alive, her face of a moon and the sun. The doll titled her head, as she was giggling. Waving Elvira the moment her eyes opened, Moreau was there too a fish-like creature. It's back hunched, deformed almost. Teeth rotted up.

"Oh! Oh she's awakeeeeeee!" Angie informed the others in excitement.

"You mean- You mean—..." Heisenberg tried to speak, but he sadly kept on being interrupted by Annie and Moreau.

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He shouted, Angie quickly rushed back to Donna as Donna picked her up, and Moreau quickly going back to her place.

"Wh... Where am I..." Elvira groaned in pain, slowly getting up seeing she was chained too the floor. Trying to escape would be no use.

"All of your arguments have been well, but I'm afraid the girl's fate will go into Azariel's hands." Monroe came to his final choice, and getting over to Azariel Dimitrescu himself. This action alone, had caused an up roar in Heisenberg.

"Father Monroe?! I found her first! This is bullshit!" Heisenberg cursed and glaring at him.

"The choice has been decided, no use in fighting it Heisenberg." Monroe said as Elvira was easily fitted up and taken the chains off by Dan.

"There has to be a mistake?!" Elvira argued to them, looking up to Azariel and Dan.

"Be greatful that you're still alive as you are now." Dan said before pulling her away to the cave, where she would be taken back to the castle.

[got-to-love-a-badboy]

Special guest

Previous chapter ^^^

Chapter 4- The Morning After The Ball

The party was beginning to dim down a little, with the majority of the guests heading home, there was just a few of the happy couples friends left gathered around the head table.

The music had stopped, the drinks had definitely been flowing so there were a few drunken faces around the table.

Jamie was talking to Kalvin, his new wife Ashley was talking to Jessica, which left Ellie talking to Jack, they had talked and danced the night away, like a real life Cinderella story Ellie was waiting for the clock to strike 12 and all of this fairytale around her to vanish and for the the mice to reappear.

Jack noticed Ellie staring off into space, "what's on your mind?", he asked her as his thumb traced her jaw line, Ellie smiled at him as she was pulled from her thoughts, "oh nothing, just thinking of how amazing tonight has been", followed by a heavy sigh.

Jack moved his head so he could see her clearer, "it has been amazing, so why the heavy sigh", Jack asked her which made her smile, "I just... tonight has been unreal... I mean this is probably an average night for Jack Grealish, but for me this is literally a fairytale.. so I'm kind of dreading the morning, when I crash back to reality".

Just as Jack was going to reply the few remaining guests began standing up and saying their goodbyes, "El! Come on babe our cab is here!" Jessica bellowed from the entrance, "il walk you out" Jack told her as he takes her hand and slowly walks out of the building as the two of them sharing glances every few seconds.

Jessica and Jamie were in the cab locking lips, Ellie saw this and rolled her eyes before looking at Jack, "third wheel privileges I suppose", Jack laughed at her comment, before reaching into his pocket for his phone, "save your number", Ellie did as Jack asked, although in the back of her mind she didn't have much hope of his actually calling her, he was Jack Grealish at the end of the day, and she was just someone who passed the time at a wedding for him, although tonight was amazing, she knew this was how it was going to go.

Ellie opened the door of the taxi but turned back to Jack before she got in, "thank you for tonight, it really was so much fun", Jack moves closer to her and connected their hands once again, this time he pulled her closer by her hand, their faces only inches apart, "no, thank you", He slowly moved closer to Ellie and connected their lips very delicately at first, when Ellie reciprocated the kiss Jack deepened it, his hands finding their place in Ellie's hair and the other one on her hip, their lips moving in sync sending electricity between the two.

Two loud bangs brought the pair back to reality, as Ellie looked to her left she saw Jamie banging on the cab door, gesturing for her to hurry up and get in the car, "Il see you later Grealish" Ellie said to the man or her dreams as she climbed in the cab, "goodnight princess Ellie", Jack winked at her before closing her door and watching the cab drive away.

He stood there for a few moments wondering what tonight had been, he genuinely had been searching for someone that gave him that spark for years, was he been too forward thinking Ellie was that person, should he keep some distance between them, after all he was going back to Birmingham in the morning and Ellie would be up here in Leeds, he knew it was up to him now what happened between them, as he had her number, if he really wanted to ghost her he could as he had done it many times before with women who he knew he didn't have the connection with.

Ellie headed home in the cab saying goodnight to her best friends, knowing tomorrow morning would be interrogation 101 with the texts from Jessica.

Jack did the same heading to the hotel room, his home for the night in hopes of relaxing his mind of Ellie and their evening.

The following morning Ellie woke up feeling fresh, today was a new day, she had just been to a footballers wedding and met two of her footballing idols.... She was winning at life, she did her best to rid her mind of the encounter, she knew that this was her defence mechanism so she didn't have to deal with the heartache when Jack didn't text or call, she had accepted it was a one night thing and nothing really happened, right?.

Her day started with her usual morning routine, shower, breakfast, coffee and a quick social media brows on her porch before getting dressed for the day.

-_-_-_-_-_-_ Instagram -_-_-_-_-_-_-

Liked by @jessyshaw132, @Jackgrealish and 326 others

Ellowe25- this coffee is much needed this morning! 🤦🏻‍♀️ ☕️

@jessyshaw132 - I will be there in 20 mins! Be ready!! Prepare your statement.

@Jamieee3 - she is literally running around the house in a rush!

@Jackgrealish - ☕️ 😍

@user12 - what is this!! Jack Grealish on some randoms account!?

———————————

Before she had chance to even get ready Ellie heard banging on the door, the kind of banging any normal person would think was the police or something serious, but knowing her best friend like she did she knew it had to be Jessica.

"What has my poor door ever done to you?" Ellie asked the very flush Jessica, "oh behave, come on we need to talk", Jessica called as she walked through the house and begins to rummage through the fridge.

After finding the drink she was searching for she sat at the kitchen island, "so...", she questioned, staring straight at Ellie, "so what? What do you need me to say?", Jessica threw her head into her hands, "no! Just no!, you do not get to flirt, dance and kiss the man you have been talking none stop about for the last 3 years and then say 'what do you want me to say'", Ellie shook her head at her best friend, she had always been a fairytale believer, love at first sight kind of person, that may have happened for her and Jamie but that's not always the case.

"Yeah we had an amazing night but Jess, he is Jack Grealish, I'm only me, he won't even call me but it's fine, I have totally accepted that", Jessica just looks at her and shakes her head, "!No I'm not buying it, you two looked like a happy couple last night plus he's comment this morning your not telling me he is over you", Ellie looked at her phone in disbelief, "I didnt even see this comment, what do I do?" Ellie asked her best friend, she had more experience than Ellie did, "you have to reply! Or at least DM him", Ellie instantly shook her head, "no I can't, I'm leaving it up to him, if he wants something more he will message, if not then it's ok, il be fine", Jessica hates to see her friend putting up these walls.

Ellie was contemplating wether to send a message or not, she didn't want to seem desperate ... but she was, she didn't want to seem uninterested ... because she was, but she also didn't want to seem like a stalker because that is something that she wasn't.

She had to think, what should she do?

————————

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

Fic: I'm holding tight cause it feels alright, my love, when I'm with you

Summary: After a long day at work, Jack and Ianto get to spend a lazy early night in.

Author’s note: I wrote this for the @torchwoodfanfests​ 2020 Bingo Fest, for the prompts ‘cold/warm’ and ‘vegetables’. The fic and my bingo card are under the cut, or if you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here!

This story was betaed by the lovely @moonlightrhosyn​, and the title is from 'When I'm With You' by Eleisha Eagle, an extremely Janto song that I recommend to anyone reading this.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1773

“Hey,” Jack was shaking his shoulder softly to wake him. Ianto groaned in protest. 

“Come on, sleeping beauty. You can go back to sleep after you’ve had something to eat. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping lunch.”

Ianto rolled over on the sofa where he’d fallen asleep to stretch himself awake. His spine cracked, and he relaxed back into the comfortable cushions.

“All of us missed lunch,” he protested. Jack was looking down at him with one of those warm smiles that made his eyes look soft, hands on his hips and head tilted as he took in the slightly red mark on Ianto’s cheek where the throw pillow had left an imprint. Ianto hadn’t bothered changing when they got home, he’d just taken off his jacket and his shoes and had gone straight for the sofa to nap while Jack cooked, since Jack had insisted on cooking dinner. 

Ianto had been ready to go to sleep for as long as the rift allowed, but Jack wanted to feed him before they turned in for their well-deserved rest - it had been a long 40 hours - and in order to get Ianto to agree he offered to make him some spaghetti bolognese. Damn that man for exploiting Ianto’s weaknesses. 

“Yes, we did,” Jack agreed as he reached for Ianto, who was still sprawled comfortably on the sofa, wrapped in his cosy black duvet with only his head and feet peeking out. Ianto grabbed the duvet and held it against him so Jack couldn’t pull it back. 

“But there’s no reason for us not to eat now,” Jack cajoled. He tried to pull the duvet gently away but Ianto was holding fast. 

“It’s cold,” Ianto complained, fully aware he sounded petulant. He pouted for good measure. He knew Jack’s weaknesses too, and he was not above using them to get what he wanted.

He could see the hit land when Jack’s face softened further. 

“You can bring your cocoon to the table if you want. Or I can warm you up...”

Jack’s suggestive eyebrows were exaggerated and ridiculous, and Ianto thought it probably said something about him that they ratcheted up his desire to kiss Jack by about 50% - a desire that was always already present in him to some extent these days, by the way. If Jack wasn’t so willing to receive and reciprocate Ianto’s kisses at any time and place, Ianto would bemoan the unfairness of it all. As it was, he really couldn’t complain.

And there was no reason not to indulge himself right now, Ianto thought.

He sat up, letting the duvet fall around him, reached up to grab a handful of Jack’s shirt and pulled on it to get him closer. Jack went with the movement, leaning down to let himself be kissed.

After letting him go, Ianto sighed in mock annoyance. “Fine,” he groused, pretending to be terribly put upon by having to agree to eat Jack’s delicious home-made pasta, which was also his favourite dish. “But I’m getting a sweater first. It really is freezing.”

“It’s not too cold in the kitchen,” Jack told him as Ianto grudgingly pulled the duvet all the way off and got up to go to his room. 

“Might as well change anyway,” Ianto mused, looking down at his rumpled shirt. It was already a mess from the weevil chase the previous night, not to mention their encounter and subsequent fight with the pair of blowfish that morning.

“Alright. I’ll set the table in the meantime. Don’t take too long, the food will get cold.”

Ianto nodded, and went to change.

***

Three and a half minutes later, Ianto walked into the kitchen wearing polar fleece pyjama bottoms, fuzzy slippers, and an old Star Wars t-shirt. He was carrying one of his favourite sweaters in one hand in case Jack had been wrong and the kitchen was cold, but Jack was happy to see he left it on the back of a chair as he sat down. The steam from the pots had warmed up the kitchen when he cooked, making the small room comfortably warm despite the winter chill outside.

“Hmm, that smells amazing,” Ianto commented, making Jack beam. He didn’t have time to cook very often, what with Torchwood being Torchwood, and he didn’t care to put in the work when it was just him anyway. It had been a while since he’d had someone to cook for, and he relished the opportunity.

Plus, Ianto had zero cooking skills or interest in acquiring any, and would happily live off takeaway if Jack let him.

He served them both a generous portion, aware they’d both been too busy to get more than a rushed breakfast and several servings of coffee for the past twelve hours. It wouldn’t matter for Jack, given his regenerative abilities, but he didn’t want Ianto’s immune system to suffer more than was absolutely necessary due to the demands of their job.

Jack saw Ianto made a face as he sat down, and he had to swallow a laugh, knowing exactly what was going to come out of Ianto’s mouth next.

“You put vegetables in my spaghetti bolognese,” Ianto deadpanned. “What is that?” he questioned, picking at the dish with his fork. “Broccoli? Jack, you heathen.”

Jack noticed it didn’t stop him from seasoning his plate or adding several spoonfuls of grated cheese to it.

“You need vegetables for a balanced diet,” Jack said with a grin. It was a topic they’d discussed many times. When it wasn’t Jack bringing it up by telling Ianto he needed them to stay healthy, it was Ianto complaining when Jack cooked for him and used ‘too many vegetables’. At this point it was more an inside joke than an actual complaint, though; Ianto had learned that Jack had the magical ability to make the dreaded vegetables taste good by seasoning them, so he didn’t actually mind. 

“It’s an affront to the dish,” Ianto countered, not meaning it whatsoever.

“Absolutely not, if anything, it elevates it. Besides, I roasted it in butter and garlic with the onions, you’ll like it. Trust me.”

Ianto took a big first bite with no hesitation, belying his complaints. 

He moaned shamelessly, utterly distracting Jack from his own plate for a moment.

“Alright, you were right. This is incredible.”

That made Jack grin again. 

They were too hungry and run-down from running from one crisis to another for the past two days, so they mostly ate in silence after that. 

Jack pondered getting a second serving despite being full, but decided against it. Ianto was drooping in his chair, looking like he might fall asleep over his empty plate, and truth be told Jack was feeling the exhaustion himself, despite his enhanced stamina. 

He sent Ianto to do his night routine and put the leftovers away, taking the time to wash the dishes so they wouldn’t be left in the sink if they got a work emergency and had to leave in a hurry. Who knew how long they might be away if that happened; they often stayed at the Hub when things were busy or if they were on call for the night. Thankfully, Tosh had agreed to be on call that night, diverting the rift alert to her phone in case anything showed up, so they wouldn’t have to be available until the next morning. 

An early night in where he could cook for Ianto and then go to sleep with him in the flat they unofficially shared had sounded divine to him. And it was. It was exactly what they needed to recharge.

Jack walked to the bathroom to find Ianto brushing his teeth with his eyes half-closed. He might fall asleep standing up if he didn’t go to bed soon. His hair was standing up where he’d ran his hand through it and his eyelids were losing the fight with his exhaustion and he looked sleep-soft and rumpled and all Jack wanted to do was walk him to bed and tuck him in, then slip in beside him and hold him through the night.

Jack took his own toothbrush from the glass and brushed his teeth next to him, his arm grazing against Ianto’s as they stood side by side, and Jack couldn’t help the rush of warmth and contentment at the wonderful domesticity of the moment. It had been years since he’d had a moment like this before Ianto. Glancing at the sleepy man on the counter mirror, he realised that possibly, he’d never had a moment like this before Ianto. 

Ianto knew everything about him. Not in the sense of knowing all the details; Jack had lived a long and eventful life, after all, and telling him everything would take more time than they had with their usually full schedule. But he knew all the key elements of what made Jack himself, all the painful secrets he had been forcibly, painfully made aware that he couldn’t trust people with, because they were the kind of thing that would alienate others, making them turn their backs on him, or because then they might be used against him.

(He’d been betrayed so many times.)

(You’d think he’d grow a thicker skin, that the sting of it would dull with time and experience. Not so.)

His thoughts were interrupted by Ianto finishing up and placing a kiss on his shoulder. 

“Come to bed soon,” he slurred sleepily, and just like that all of Jack’s other thoughts were banished, leaving only room for affection for this man.

“I will,” Jack answered after rinsing, and Ianto rewarded his words with a small warm smile before shuffling to the bedroom.

Jack realised he was smiling when he caught sight of his own reflection.

Ianto was already asleep when Jack joined him only a few minutes later. 

He slipped under the covers on what had become his side of the bed, scooting close to feel the warmth Ianto was radiating, and to his surprise Ianto stirred, the two of them rearranging themselves in effortless concert so that Ianto’s chest was pressed flush against Jack’s back, one arm thrown over his side to hold him close against his chest.

Jack felt Ianto’s breath on the back of his neck as he mumbled, “G’night”. Ianto’s feet brushed against his under the covers before stilling again.

“Good night,” Jack said softly, feeling cared for and safe and helplessly in love.

Warm and content as he was in Ianto’s arms, in one of the two beds they’d been sharing for the past several months, it didn’t take long for Jack to doze off.

[dukereviewsxtra]

Duke Reviews Xtra: Cinderella (Remake)

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Xtra Where We Continue Our Look At The Movies Of Disney...

And Yesterday I Looked At The 3rd Cinderella Sequel, Cinderella 3: A Twist In Time So, Today Is A Day I've Been Dreading Ever Since I Started Looking At Cinderella, Let's Look At The Remake...

No Synopsis Today, Let's Just Dive Into (Sighs) Cinderella...

With The Fairy Godmother (Played By Helena Bonham Carter) Narrating, Our Story Starts With Ella, Living With Her Wealthy Parents In A Beautiful Estate In A Peaceful Kingdom...

From A Young Age, Ella Is Taught By Her Mother (Played By Agent Carter) To Believe In The Existence Of Magic, Allowing Her To Befriend Many Of The Animals On The Estate But In Particular The Mice...

Yes, Everything Is Perfect In Ella's Life Until Her Mother Contracts (Name Fatal Illness Here). On Her Deathbed, She Makes Cinderella Promise That She Will Always Have Courage And Be Kind To Other People...

Which Leads To The First Problem I Have With The Film, They Overplay The Message A Little Too Much...

It's Like They Want To Hammer Into Your Head By Saying It A Million Times Or In This Case, Seven Times Throughout The Damn Movie And It Just Gets To The Point Where You Want To Say...

Years Later, When Ella Is A Teenager (Now Played By Lilly James) Her Father Marries Lady Tremaine (Played By Cate Blanchett) Who's The Widow Of An Old Acquaintance Who Has 2 Daughters Named Drizella And Anastasia...

But When The Father Is Getting Ready To Leave On Another Business Trip, He Admits To Ella That He Likes Ella's Mother More Than He Likes Tremaine As Tremaine Overhears Their Conversation...

After The Father Leaves, Tremaine Takes Advantage Of Ella's Hospitality By Persuading Her To Give Up Her Room To Drizella And Anastasia And Making The Attic Her New Room Temporarily...

While The Other Ones Are Painted. We Get A Sing, Sweet Nightingale Reference As Cinderella Helps The Workers Around The House Before One Night, Ella Finds Out That He Father Has Died On One Of His Trips From A Friend Of The Family...

Dismissing The Servants Shortly After Ella's Father's Death, Ella Does All The Work Around The House And Is Relegated To Nothing More Than A Servant As She Is Subjected To Cruel Mistreatment By Tremaine And The Stepsisters...

To The Point That She Is Forbidden To Eat With Them And Is Spitefully Renamed Cinderella After Waking With Soot On Her Face After Sleeping In Front Of The Fireplace...

Which Leads Next Problem With The Remake, Her Breakdown Here...

After Being Not Allowed To Eat With Her Stepmother And Stepsisters, Cinderella Breaks Down In The Kitchen, And It Is Understandable, She Has A Reason To Be Hurt...

But The Only Problem Is When She Has The Breakdown Here, It Takes Away The Impact Of Her Breakdown Later When The Stepsisters Tear Her Dress Apart Or In This Movie's Case, Slightly Rip It...

Anyway, Going On A Ride In The Woods To Get Away From Her Evil Stepsiblings, Ella Encounters A Hunting Party Where She Meets One Of The Hunters Who Claims To Be An Apprentice Named Kit (Played By Richard Madden)...

Who Lives In The Palace. But Unbeknownst To Cinderella, He Is Actually The Prince Of The Kingdom And Despite Never Learning Her Name, He Becomes Infatuated By Ella After Talking With Her...

Returning To The Palace Afterwards, Kit Discovers That His Father, The King (Played By The Master) Is Going To Die And Regenerate Into John Simms Soon...

So, He Insists That Kit Finds A Bride At The Upcoming Ball But Despite The Law Saying That The Prince Must Marry A Princess, Kit Can't Get Over Ella And Gets His Father To Invite Every Eligible Maiden In The Land To The Ball...

With The Ball Announced, The Tremaines Are Ecstatic At The Possibility Of Being Married To Royalty But Refusing To Buy Ella A Dress, Ella Fixes Up An Old Dress Of Her Mom's With The Help Of The Mice...

But On The Night Of The Ball, Ella Tries To Join Her Stepfamily But Claiming That Being Seen With Her Would Only Disgrace Them, They Tear The Dress Up (Or As I Said Slightly Rip It) And Leave Without Her..

Seemingly Breaking Down Into Tears Again, Cinderella Encounters An Old Beggar Woman Who Asks For Some Water, Getting It For Her, The Old Beggar Reveals To Ella That She's Her Fairy Godmother...

Which Leads To My Next Complaint That Whole Scene....

In The Original, As Cinderella Was Crying The Fairy Godmother Just Appeared And Comforted Her Like A Grandparent Would....

Where Here, Ella Is Put To A Test First To See If She's A Good Person When The Fairy Godmother Oughta Know That She Is A Good Person And Just Help Her

Turning Her Old Beggar Look Into The Look Of A Fairy Godmother (I Guess) She Turns A Pumpkin Into A Carriage, 4 Mice Into Horses, 2 Lizards Into Footmen And A Goose Into A Coachmen Before Turning Cinderella's Tattered Dress Into A Gorgeous Blue Gown With Glass Slippers...

Which Leads Me To My Next Complaint, Why Aren't The Songs In This?

Now I Understand Not Having The Mice's Song And So This Is Love From The Film In This Movie And I'll Live With The Reference To Sing Sweet Nightingale That They Had Earlier But Why Did You Not Have Bibbidy Bobbity Boo In This Scene?

You Have Helena Bonham Carter Singing The Song In The Soundtrack...

So Why Not Use It In The Film During That Scene?

The Same Goes For A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes Which You Had Lilly James Singing In The Soundtrack Too?

You Could Have Had Her Singing That In The Attic Instead Of That Song From So Dear To My Heart When She Was Locked In The Attic...

And It Would Have Made It A Better Scene Than What It Was...

Idiots!

So, Getting In The Carriage, The Fairy Godmother Warns Her That The Spell Only Lasts Till Midnight Before Sending Her On Her Way...

Arriving At The Ball, The Entire Court Is Entranced By Ella Including Kit, Who Gives Her The First Dance Of The Night As He Reveals Who He Is To Her...

This Irritates The Grand Duke (Played By Erik Selvig) Who Has Secretly Promised Kit To A Spanish Princess Which Lady Tremaine Overhears...

This Leads To My Next Complaint, Making The Grand Duke A Bad Guy!...

What...The...Hell...

The Grand Duke Was Fine The Way He Was In The Original Movie, There Was No Need To Make Him Another Bad Guy When Lady Tremaine And The Stepsisters Are Enough For This Movie

Come On!

After Dancing With The Prince, Ella And Him Look Around The Palace And The Grounds Where They Slowly Fall In Love But Before He Can Learn Her Name It Strikes Midnight And Ella Is Forced To Flee Where She Accidentally Drops One Of Her Slippers On The Stairs As She Rides Off...

Getting Away Before The Final Stroke, She Hides The Other Slipper In Her Room While Back At The Palace, The King Gives His Blessing For His Son To Find And Marry The Girl He Fell In Love With...

Making An Announcement That The Prince Will Marry The Mystery Girl If She Only Present Herself, Ella Races Home To Get The Slipper Only To Discover That It's In The Hands Of Lady Tremaine Who Has Figured Out Her Identity Through Ella's Attitude After The Ball...

This Leads Her To Blackmail Ella, Telling Her That When She Is Queen, Tremaine Will Be Made Head Of The Royal Household And Drizella And Anastasia Will Be Given Proper Husbands...

Refusing Tremaine's Threat, Saying That She Regrets Not Protecting Her Father From Her But She Will Protect Both The Prince And The Kingdom From Her Evil No Matter What She Does To Her, So, Smashing The Slipper, Tremaine Locks Cinderella In Her Room...

Taking The Shoe To The Grand Duke, Tremaine Reveals The Name Of The Mystery Girl To Him As She Makes A Deal With Him That In Exchange For Her Silence, She Would Get The Title Of Countess And And Drizella And Anastasia Would Be Given Worthy Husbands...

Taking The Broken Slipper To Kit In An Effort To Discourage Him, It Instead Makes Him More Determined To Find His True Love As He Orders Them To Take The Slipper They Have And Try It On Every Maiden In The Kingdom...

Amusing His Highness, The Grand Duke And Captain Of The Guard Lead A Garrison To Try The Slipper On All The Girls In The Land. Eventually Arriving At The Tremaine House, They Try The Slipper On Anastasia And Drizella But Of Course It Doesn't Fit Them...

Turning To Leave, They Soon Stop When They Hear Ella Singing Through A Window The Mice Opened While She's Dancing Like An Idiot...

Which Leads Me To My Last Problem With The Film, Cinderella Herself...

People Like This Cinderella For Being A So Called Smart And Independent Character, But Unlike The Original This One Is A Dummy For 2 Reasons...

The First Reason Comes From This Scene, When She Was Locked In Her Room In The Original, She Cried, She Screamed And Like A Regular Person Would But Here She Just Gives Up And Dances Like A Dummy As She Sings That Song I Mentioned From So Dear To My Heart...

And Like I Said If It Was A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes I Might Feel Different But Since It's Not, It's Just Dumb

And The Second Reason Is Her Reasoning For Staying With The Tremaines...

In The Original Movie, After Her Father Died When She Was A Child, Tremaine Manipulated Her Her Entire Life By Making Her Feel Guilty And Serve Her Family To The Point That She Doesn't Know Much About The Outside World And Could Never Really Leave The House...

Where In This, She Could Have Left Anytime She Wanted But She Promised Her Dad That She Would Look After Their House Which Makes No Sense Later When She Leaves Anyway At The Very End Of The Movie...

We're Obviously Going To Like The Cinderella That's More Human And Relatable To Us And I'm Sorry But That's The Original...

The Grand Duke Tries To Leave Anyway, But He Is Shocked To Discover That One Of The Men Is Kit In Disguise Who Demands That The Captain Thoroughly Investigate The Sound...

Of Course, Once Ella Is Found Tremaine Forbids Her From Trying On The Shoe But Telling Her That She Has Never Been Her Mother, Her And Kit Are Reunited And She Tries On The Slipper To Which She Fits...

With The Stepsisters Asking For Her Forgiveness, She Forgives Tremaine As She Leaves (Despite Promising Her Father That She Would Look After The House) And To Live Happily Ever After With Kit While Tremaine And The Stepsisters Soon Depart The Kingdom With The Grand Duke...

And That's Cinderella And Despite People Saying That This Is The Best of The Disney Remakes It's Honestly The Worst Until Mulan Comes Out...

While You All Know My Reasons For Hating This Movie, The Story Was Interesting At Times And I Do Like What They Did With The Prince And Tremaine And If There Was One Good Thing I Did Like About The Cinderella Character It Was Her Ball Gown...

But I'm Sorry The Negatives Just Outweigh The Positives Of This Movie So For That I Say Skip It And Just Watch The Frozen Short That Played Before The Movie Because You'll Get More Entertainment Out Of That Than Of This Movie...

Next Week Is Wonderland Week As I Look At Not Only Disney's Original Animated Version On Duke Reviews Movies But The Tim Burton Film, The Burton Less Sequel And 1 Other Version Of The Tale Done By Irwin Allen In 1985....

Anyway, Till Then, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• PROLOGUE •

WARNINGS: if you haven't seen the movie or read the book and maybe this is somehow you're first encounter with this series, this is a very graphic story and I will not be shying away from the gore as much as I want to. You really can't interact with this series without it so again, if you are unaware somehow and/or you are squeamish around graphic descriptions of violence this book is not for you. Thank you.

- October 1988 -

     Gray skies and a thick layer of storm clouds blanket the town of Derry, Maine. Bill Denbrough sits in bed, he was tearing out a piece of paper from his sketchbook. His mother is downstairs on the piano, playing Für Elise. A song that would haunt him for the rest of his life. That song was playing the day Georgie died, he would think. Georgie, Bill's younger brother was at the window.

     He had fogged up the glass with his breath, and he drew a large smiley face on the glass, just before it disappeared. He turned over his shoulder to look at his brother, who was folding a paper boat for him.

     "You sure I won't get in trouble, Bill?"

     "Don't be a w-wuss." Bill replied.

     Bill had always had a stutter, and everyone who knew him was used to it. When he was three, he had been hit by a car and knocked into a building, and he remained unconscious for seven hours. This accident, his mother had said, caused the stutter. His stutter was light but it got worse after Georgie disappeared.

     "I'd come with you if I weren't," he stopped abruptly and coughed forcefully into his hand. "dying."

     Georgie stood from the window and walked over to his brother, sighing. "You're not dying!"

     He hated that his brother joked about stuff like that, he'd hate it if something really happened to him.

     "You didn't see the v-v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" He asked incredulously.

     Georgie cringed. "That's disgusting."

     Bill looked down at the finished paper boat. "Okay. Go get the wax."

     Georgie became uneasy. He shifted on his feet. "In the cellar?"

     Georgie was terrified of the cellar. He always imagined dangers of the unimaginable lurking at the bottom, waiting to snatch him up. He knew it was silly, but every time he would reach for the light, the image of long sharp talons reaching out for his tiny little hand.

     "You want it to f-float, don't you?" Bill asked simply.

     "Fine," he sighed.

     Georgie left Bill's room, not before grabbing his walkie talkie and headed downstairs. His legs, he realized, were moving slower than normal. A fact he was fine with if it meant it took longer to get to the cellar. He passed his mother in the dining room, where she sat at the piano, her fingers dancing along the keys. The music added a chilling tone that made his nerves spike.

     When Georgie reached the kitchen, he slowed. The cellar door was open and he could hear that same sinister voice in the back of his head, promising his demise. Georgie gulped, but oh, how he wanted that boat!

     Bill wouldn't be scared. Bill was never scared of the cellar, so neither should he!

     Georgie walked slowly over to the door, gently pushing it open. The door made a sickening creak and he crept to the edge of the stairs, hoping whatever possible creature lurked at the bottom wouldn't hear him. His breathing picked up and he gulped, he could hear something clattering down there!

     A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him.

     "Georgie," It was just Bill from the walkie talkie. "Hurry up."

     Struggling to regain his composure, he clung to the wall, reaching for the light and tried not to think about the claw that could take his arm. His fingers reached the switch and flicked it back and forth. Nothing. He would have to go down into the cellar. In the dark.

     Georgie took several deep breaths, desperately attempting to swallow his fear.

     "It's okay," he whispered under his breath. "I'm brave."

     He trudges down the cellar stairs, an iron grip on the railing, letting darkness engulf him. He sighed when he reached the bottom. He had made it down the stairs. But now came the hard part. Taking a deep breath he began looking around, squinting in the dark trying to find the gulf wax and get the hell out of there.

     "Where's the wax?" He mumbled. "There's the wax. Yes."

     Georgie always felt that as long as he could talk, even if he was alone, he was at least somewhat safe. Perhaps hearing a voice, even his own was something to distract him from his fears. He stood on his tippy toes, extending his arm, reaching for the paraffin wax for his boat.

     He got it! Now he could leave the nasty old cellar. It always smelled sewage and gook you'd find in a gutter. It was a nasty smell. The cellar smell. But something in Georgie told him to look up, and he did. What he saw made him back up.

     In the sea of darkness, he saw two bright and shiny orbs, staring at him. Stalking him. His heart beating rapidly in his chest and he stifled a gasp. The flashlight. For some unknown reason that baffled him, he hadn't grabbed the flashlight next to him on the dryer before.

     He quickly grabbed it, his hands shaking as he felt for the button with his other hand. He pressed it and the light shined brightly, illuminating nothing but the same old shelf across the room. The two orbs, he realized, were just two empty jars that must have caught the light that made it through the tiny cellar windows behind him.

     But he couldn't shake the feeling something had been watching him. Something that was still watching him. He needed to leave, immediately, he thought. And he did.

     He heard a loud clatter near him, something he would never be able to identify, that was soon followed by a crack of thunder. He jumped into a sprint for the stairs, more words tumbling out of his mouth.

     "What was that? What's that? Oh, jeez!"

     He scrambled up the stairs, still clutching the flashlight firmly in his hands. The light jumped up and down the walls as he moved his arms and Georgie was certain he had never run the fast.

     But it was fine now. He was out of the cellar and he had the wax for his boat.

     Now, he stood next to Bill at his desk, his left arm wrapped loving around his older brother. He studied Bill's technique as he painted the paper boat - the boat now labeled the 'SS Georgie' in black marker - with paraffin wax.

     Bill set the paintbrush back in the bowl of wax and picked up the boat by the edges. He turned to Georgie.

     "Alright," he handed the SS Georgie to his little brother and smiled. "There you go. S-she's all ready, Captain."

     Confusion and interest flickered over Georgie's face. "She?"

     Bill nodded. "You always call b-b-boats 'she'."

     "'She'," Georgie nodded, liking the new interesting fact. "Thanks, Billy."

     Georgie extended his arms and pulled his brother in for a hug, who gladly accepted. Georgie gave him a big squeeze and Bill smiled. He gently prodded his fingers in Georgie's side, knowing just where his brother was ticklish.

     Georgie giggled and pulled back, and Bill smiled. Georgie grabbed the walkie and ran skipping out of the room.

     "See you later. Bye!" Georgie called disappearing into the hallway.

     When he heard the front door close moments later, he rose to his feet and went to the window.

     There on the sidewalk was Georgie, who was now dressed in his yellow slicker and matching rain boots. He was gleaming and sent a big happy wave to Bill, who tentatively waved back.

     Bill didn't know why he felt the way he did suddenly. He felt a sense of dread, that he ignored at that moment. Something he would be kicking himself for, for the rest of his life.

   �� But he did bring his walkie up to his lips and spoke.

     "Be careful,"

     He had no idea what compelled him to say that. And he remembered thinking that was something you'd usually hear from a mom or a dad. Not your brother. But he shook it off.

     Bill watched as his brother placed the boat into the small stream that formed in between the curb and the street. The boat took off and so did Georgie.

     That was the last time Bill ever saw Georgie alive.

     He ran alongside his boat in a happy sprint. No matter how fast he ran, she was quicker. As he'd run he jump off the curb into the large puddles, watching them splash. Then he'd jump right back up and run off the grass again.

     The SS Georgie sped down the street. She zipped and zoomed and Georgie watched with delight, giggling merrily. She sped right under a sawhorse on the road. Printed on it, with big black letters were the words: DERRY PUBLIC WORKS.

     Georgie was sure to duck when he reached it, his boat just ahead by his feet. He was still bent over, eyes still on the boat, he failed to notice the second sawhorse just as he straightened.

     THUNK!

     Georgie lay on the concrete, his forehead and lower half sore from the fall and he winced. He could feel the stream of rain soaking his pants and sneaking into his boots.

     The boat! The boat was still getting away. He scanned the street, squinting through the splashback of thousands of raindrops in the street, but he finally spotted the boat. She had just hit a corner, but she persisted. She had no trouble getting around the large obstacle in the street and she turned. Georgie jumped to his feet and chased after her.

     His legs were small but they run fast. But not fast enough to reach the boat in time before it hit a snag and twirled into a storm drain.

     "No!" He cried, kneeling down into the gutter. "No, Bill's gonna kill me!"

     He peered into the gutter, squinting for the boat. Maybe it wasn't as steep as it looked, he thought. Maybe he could reach her. But his thoughts were suddenly cut short.

     A pair of yellow eyes opened in the darkness. They gleamed brightly and they were fixed right on Georgie. He jumped back with a frightful yelp. A darkened figure slithered forward.

     "Hiya, Georgie!"

     From the small portion of the face that was showing, he could see a pale white face, with blood-red lips. The ends of the lips trailed all the way up in sharp lines and didn't seem to stop. The smile was big and cartoonish, it was unnatural and he had two large teeth that reminded Georgie of a rabbit. But if he wasn't mistaken, the figure in the storm drain was a clown?

     The voice was cheerful and light, but it was gravelly and deep. Georgie didn't like this voice or the feeling it brought.

     And had Georgie been wrong before? I must have, he thought because the eyes were now a bright blue. But his attention was immediately drawn to the object in the clown's hand.

     "What a nice boat." The clown said, showing it the boy. "Do you want it back?"

     Georgie, was still very much startled from the turn of events, frowned uneasily. Yet he nodded.

     "Um, yes please."

     The face tilted its head and smiled a crooked grin. "You look like a nice boy. I bet you have a lot of friends."

     Georgie tilted his head, slowly his guard came down, but he couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Nevertheless, he answered, timidly.

     "Three. But my brother's my best best."

     The face gleamed, perking up in interest.

     "Where's he?"

     Georgie noticed the slobber pooling in the clown's lower lip, and it dribbled over in long streams. He was drooling. Georgie tried not to stare. He had learned well and good from his mother that it was not polite to stare.

     "In bed. Sick."

     The shadowy face seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment.

     "I bet I could cheer him up. I'll give him a balloon!"

     Georgie looked away briefly, feeling very uneasy. The clown, who noticed the boy's hesitation and perked up.

     "Do you want a balloon too, Georgie?"

     "I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers." The boy answered.

     "Oh," He scoffed happily. "Well, I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown!"

     He shook his head, and a small flurry of jingles accompanied.

     "'Pennywise?' 'Yes.'" The clown spoke to Itself and answered, feigning a conversation. "'Meet Georgie.' 'Georgie, meet Pennywise.'"

     Georgie couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat, and Pennywise smiled.

     "Now we aren't strangers, are we?"

     At that moment, the inhabitant of the house just in front of that very storm drain stepped out onto her porch. She held her coat tightly to herself and shivered. The wind chimes were waving sporadically and tapping against the outdoor blinds.

     She grabbed the ropes and pulled the curtains up, surprised to see a young boy in a bright yellow raincoat leaning into the sewer. She frowned, losing interest and steeped away, her cat at her feet still watching.

     "What are you doing in the sewer?" Georgie asked curiously.

     "A storm blew away," Pennywise drawled. "Blew the whole circus away."

     Pennywise chuckled with the very same high and gravelly voice before his face fell unexpectedly. The clown stared at Georgie, his friendly mask falling briefly.

     "Can you smell the circus, Georgie?"

     Georgie frowned in confusion. He leaned ever so slightly forward.

     "There's peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, and...?"

     Georgie could, in fact, smell all those things. He could smell the sweet sugary aroma of cotton candy and he could practically taste the salty flavor of peanuts. But underneath all that, he could smell the familiar vulgar and repulsive stench. The cellar smell.

     But then he got a strong burst of popcorn.

     "Popcorn?"

     "Popcorn!" The figure chuckled and nodded eagerly. "Is that your favorite?"

     Georgie smiled for the first time in the interaction, and he nodded. "Uh-huh."

     "Mine too!" Pennywise chuckled, and voice cracked. "Because they pop. Pop, pop, pop!"

     Georgie giggled at the funny noise, and Pennywise continued.

     "Pop, pop, pop."

     "Pop," Giggled Georgie.

     Pennywise cackled along with Georgie but stopped suddenly. He stared at Georgie, drool dribbling down his chin once more and he was stared at Georgie hungrily.

     The uneasy feeling returned to Georgie. He could feel the pit in his stomach blooming. He forced a polite smile, unable to hide his discomfort.

     "I should get going now,"

     "Oh," The clown licked its lips. "Without your boat?"

     Georgie frowned. He wanted to get far away from the storm drain. Run all the way home and snuggle up under the safety of Bill's covers, where he would be protected, and never look back. Never think about the creepy clown in the sewers. But something else was gnawing at Georgie, a doubt deep-seeded in the back of his mind. A doubt Pennywise brought to light.

     "You don't want to lose it, Georgie," the clown warned. "Bill's gonna kill you,"

     Bill would. He would be very mad at Georgie. For bothering him while he was sick, goading him into making that stupid boat and to lose it immediately. And after going to all that trouble. Bill would be disappointed. That's what worried Georgie, and he didn't want his brother being mad at him.

     Pennywise extended the boat, ever so slightly, and grinned. His smile looked like that of the Cheshire cat, stretching into impossible lengths.

     "Here," the whisper chilled Georgie to his very bones. "Take it."

     He would take the boat, and say his thanks, and leave. The voice grew impatient.

     "Take it, Georgie," The voice was deep and low, but still gravelly.

     The very same thoughts that he always had about the cellar, popped back into his head. Bill would take it, a small voice in his head told him, he's brave. Against his better judgment, Georgie crawled closed, reaching out for the boat. It would be just as easy as getting the gulf wax, he told himself.

     The second his palm landed on the concrete, the second his fingers were within reach, the clown's eyes returned to a deep yellow. Georgie's hand was snatched, and the clown's head opened up, growing hundreds of sharp teeth and It chomped down on Georgie's arm, biting it clean off.

     Georgie's terrified cries of pain echoed down the streets of Jackson and Witcham and yet the only being that heard his muffled cries of help was the neighbor's cat, still perched on the porch. Georgie did his best to crawl away from the storm drain, he wiggled himself along the street, blood pouring out of his shoulder where his right arm once was.

     But it was no use. A long arm, slowly extending and protruding from the sewers came for him. Much like what he had always envisioned would happen when he used the cellar lightswitch. His small body was pulled into the storm drain, and Georgie Denbrough was no more.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovavision @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica

[patchodraws]

"Of course I'm freaking out! You're my friend!" from the morning after prompt list with Bumbleby

Blake’s room isn’t necessarily unfamiliar. In fact, Yang’s thankful that when she wakes up groggy and with a pounding headache, she’s able to focus somewhat on the familiar elements of her room. 

The signed CFVY poster she won for her birthday.

The dark lilac curtains pulled in front of the window.

The embarrassing photo of them she keeps framed on her desk.

Yang grimaces--not at the the picture, at the headache--as she shifts underneath the sheets; she stops immediately, her mind clear for the first time this morning, and she feels her stomach drop and her chest clench.

Unfamiliar.

That’s how she feels.

Yang’s never been naked in Blake’s bed before.

Panic quickly settles into her mind beside the headache, spreading to her chest in a rush of adrenaline as she curls in on herself, covering herself with Blake’s covers.

“Oh fuck,” she murmurs to herself. This is not how she wanted things to go.

She grumbles, trying to remember what even happened last night where she would end up like this in Blake’s bed (the answer’s obvious, but it’s the steps before she’s desperate to know). Her clothes are scattered around the room, and she remembers having stumbled into the bedroom with her shirt already slung off, and she remembers Blake’s lips against her neck leaving marks that, when she reaches up to touch them, are still tender under her fingers.

“Oh fuck,” she repeats, and repeats again as she slowly, cautiously pulls herself out from under the covers. She’s quick to grab her clothes and slip into them despite the shaking in her legs and the anxious trembling of her hands, and takes one more glance around the room.

The bed’s empty with sheets kicked aside and the clothes Blake had been wearing yesterday scattered haphazardly all over the floor (she remembers how fervent Blake had been to remove them, how desperate she seemed to have her lips on her skin).

Yang swallows back something in her throat (shame? regret? anxiety? worry?) when she realises Blake’s not in the room with her.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Yang grimaces as she leans against the bedroom door, listening for anything that might indicate Blake’s out there and waiting for her, probably ready to call her out for what they did last night.

It’s not like Yang hasn’t wanted to do this, and it’s not like she hasn’t been thinking about Blake as more than a friend for almost their whole life. Yang’s spent enough nights crying into her pillow over feelings that won’t stop haunting her to know how she’s always felt, but this isn’t what she wanted. What does Blake think of this? Is it just a one-night stand to her? Did Yang take advantage of her?

Blake’s been through enough in her life for Yang to dread the idea that she’d made that mistake.

She swallows her pride as she nervously covers her chest; she’ll grab her shirt as quick as she can, and she’ll put her boots back on, and she’ll leave, and she’ll text Blake later to apologise.

Her fingers curl around the doorknob as she steels herself against the rising wave of worry washing over her, bracing herself for the awkward encounter that’s sure to ensue. 

The door slowly creaks open and Yang takes a peek into Blake’s apartment; it smells strongly of coffee, and a faint haze of smoke washes over the room. Yang lets out a sigh--better to just get it over with, she reckons--and makes a beeline for where her shirt should be on the ground.

Should be, and isn’t.

Before panic has a chance to flash in her chest, Blake’s voice cuts through the haze of the morning.

“Hey,” she says, and it’s almost too innocent, too gentle for what Yang’s feeling.

Yang turns around, arms still crossed over her chest, and sees Blake standing over the stove in the kitchen, a smoking pan in hand. She’s wearing a bathrobe--and only that--and it takes all of Yang’s strength not to give in and let her eyes wander over her body, her figure, images of the details of her body burned into Yang’s mind as reminders of the previous night.

Yang offers Blake the most uneasy smile she can muster, eyes wide and lips shaking. “Heya, Blake!”

Blake smiles at her--it’s so easy, so kind, the exact smile that Yang would melt at any other day--before her eyes dart down to her chest then back up to meet her eyes; Yang notices the flash of sadness between the looks. 

“You’re...going home already?”

“Well, I need my shirt first.” Even when she’s panicking, Yang’s first instinct is to joke and tease, and it’s probably the wrong thing to say in the moment when she sees how Blake’s shoulder sag.

Blake moves to the couch and grabs her shirt; it’s far less wrinkled than Yang would have expected after being very messily removed from her body and thrown onto the floor. “I tried ironing it this morning for you,” she says as she passes it to Yang. “Just didn’t want you looking like a mess.”

Yang quickly takes it from her hands and slips it over her head, relieved for the very brief moment where she doesn’t have to see the shifting emotions fighting for control in Blake’s expression; she assumes she doesn’t look too different.

“I, uh, made some coffee if you wanted it,” Blake says with a hint of levity in her voice once Yang is fully dressed. “I can put it in a travel mug if you want, or--”

Her heart tugs at her chest, a pang of adoration quickly subdued by her own frantic shame and worry. Blake’s not angry, not visibly, anyways, and somehow that makes Yang even more nervous about what happened. Blake’s been through enough, she always reminds herself, and she doesn’t need to be tricked or duped or fucked with again. Yang had promised she’d make sure Blake wouldn’t end up having to deal with anything like that again.

“I--” she begins, her voice caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp, “I think I should just go.” She turns from Blake, murmuring ‘oh fuck’ with every step towards the door.

“Wait, Yang! Please!” Blake calls out to her, and Yang does as she says. 

She can’t bring herself to turn around, not yet, not until the frustrated red recedes from her eyes (the red isn’t for Blake, it never could be, but she’s always feared what Blake might think if she thought it was).

“Can we, you know, talk? About what happened last night?” Blake asks softly. There’s a sad rasp in her own voice, too, and it’s enough to flush the remaining red from her eyes.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Blake begins, “I wanted to know how you’re feeling about all that. You’re kind of freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” She surprises herself with the shrillness of her own voice as she spins towards Blake, and now the tears she’d been stifling before return unhindered. She hates how easy it is to come apart in front of Blake (but she can’t help but love how safe it feels to do so). “You’re my best friend. I shouldn’t be, like, sleeping with you!”

Blake pauses, her gaze focused on Yang’s eyes (or maybe she’s watching the tears that fall from them) before they dip to the floor. “Why not?”

The question takes Yang aback for a moment, and the sincerity of it keeps her stuck in that moment for longer than she wants to be. “Why not?” she repeats, processing the question and every layer of meaning behind it. “Because, well...I...”

Yang knows exactly why not. She knows what Blake’s been through, knows how cautiously she keeps this close to her. She was there for the nights where Blake phoned her, sobbing and scared, and she was there for the time it took Blake to heal and build trust in the world around her again. She knows how many times she’s tried--her month-long relationship with Sun feels like one of those things she’d tried, something that just couldn’t work--and she knows that despite trying, hiding her feelings about Blake hasn’t been easy.

She knows about the thin cracks in Blake’s skin, fragile and guarded against the things that could shatter her; Yang’s always known how to navigate around those cracks, how to keep Blake intact as best as she can, and she knows that the last thing she wants is to be the one to make her come apart.

And she worries, and she knows that she’s crossed a line, and it’s that fear that settles into her when she thinks of ‘why not’. Why not? 

“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” Yang admits. “Because I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, and, well...” The words fall off her tongue, the panic of the moment subsiding as her mind clears and her thoughts settle, and suddenly ‘why not’ cuts into her with its sincerity.

Blake stares at her, breathless, and the amber of her eyes would cut into her too if they weren’t veiled by glossy tears. It’s a look that speaks a million words--Blake has words for everything, for every little quirk and speck in the world--but Blake only speaks one for now.

“Yang.”

“I--” Yang chokes out, unsure of what she’s going to say next but she can’t stand the silence.

“Yang,” Blake repeats, and it’s sad, “you’re not making me do anything.”

“Y--you’ve always known how I felt, and I was being flirty, and we were both maybe a little tipsy--”

“Are you saying I slept with you because I was drunk?” she accuses quietly. “Or are you saying I slept with you because you manipulated me into it?”

Yang takes a step back, and ‘why not’ rattles around in her head like a taunt. “I don’t...I’m worried, Blake.”

Blake shakes her head, disbelief and disappointment clear in her expression. “Yang, please don’t be. Please please don’t say shit like that.” 

Yang steps back again, but this time Blake steps forward to meet her; there’s no confrontation in her posture, no malice or anger in her eyes (or maybe there is, and Blake’s hiding it from her). 

“You know better than anyone I wouldn’t do anything I don’t want to. And what we did last night? I wanted to.” Her eyes dip low for a second. “I’ve...I’ve wanted to do that for a while, actually.” Then her eyes flick back up to Yang, and there is a fleeting anger in her eyes that’s quickly overtaken by reassurance. “So please don’t act like you’ve done anything bad. Please don’t turn this into another tragedy. We deserve something better for once.”

A lump forms in Yang’s throat, one that she swallows back quickly. Blake’s right. It’s been too long since either of them have been able to escape tragedy, and it’s changed them, causing them to jump at shadows and read between lines and expect happily ever afters really are just for fairy tales and not for them.

Yang feels Blake’s fingers wrap around her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, bringing her out of her own mind to see how Blake’s looking at her now.

It’s been so long since Yang’s seen hope in Blake’s eyes.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Yang says; it’s hardly a confession, not anymore, but the relief that courses through her and escapes in a bold sigh reassures her.

“I know,” Blake says, “and I’ve liked you for so long, too. I just never really knew how to handle feeling so strongly about someone again.” Her cheeks turn pink and she giggles bashfully. “Maybe actually telling you instead of trying to run from those feelings would’ve been better.”

“Would...would we have done what we did if you had?”

“Well, what do you think? Would we have slept together if I told you I liked you? Or did we have to wait until we were both at pretty low points and a little tipsy to get here?”

Yang chuckles, partly anxiously and partly in relief. “If you’d have told me you wanted to sleep with me, I probably wouldn’t have freaked out.” Then, she adds with a wink: “I might’ve just rawed you on the spot.”

Blake rolls her eyes. “Ugh, if you’re going to say shit like ‘raw’ then we’re never sleeping together again.”

The tease pulls slightly at Yang’s heart, a warning of danger with flashing red flags, but Yang’s nothing if not a thrillseeker. “Oh, raw me, Blake!” she teases, and her heart finally settles with her mind.

Despite the frown that stretches across her lips, Blake still closes the distance between them and links her hands behind Yang’s neck. “You sure you won’t freak out this time?”

“Pretty sure,” Yang says in a low voice, a counter to the last few flutters in her chest.

“Good,” Blake purrs against her neck; her breath is warm, and the meticulous softness of her voice draws heat to Yang’s cheeks. “I want this to be right.”

Blake’s quick to bring her lips to Yang’s, her kiss fervent and kind and elated and messy and Yang can only think that maybe they don’t deserve more tragedies.

Maybe they do deserve happily ever after.

[decantae]

[A dealer's choice ask for the celebration thing] You sent me a peach, this gives me entirely too much power. So here's a writing prompt since I love your writing and I'm self-indulgent

Notes: This was originally meant as a gift for @pens-swords-stuff‘s 800 follower celebration, but better late than never! Maybe there will be future parts when the blog hits 2000 ;)

It’s not much –– just a few fluffy/angsty/filler drabbles set in the For Queen and Country ‘verse. 

For some context: Casimir is a dhampire (with a rapidly approaching best-before date, as being a half-vampire is a life-limiting condition) and Callisto is an Unseelie Fae on a mission to take advantage of the political turmoil of Britain after the reveal of the Other to the general populace. They share a flat.

i.

Casimir takes in the sight of the cramped flat around him. There’s holes in the plaster, a jagged ridge on the laminate where he’d taken a spill in recent months, and some creeping damp behind the kitchen sink, but other than those small blips to be taken out of his security deposit when he dies, it’s like playing the most difficult game of spot-the-difference with the photos taken on the day he moved in.

Apparently and according to Callisto, the real flaws in his personal haven have escaped his notice for over a decade. Forget about unavoidable damage –– the real crime was the lurid orange paint flaking off the living room walls, untouched since 1972. Say, Casimir, if the walls were ‘arctic blue’, this room would feel far less claustrophobic. A gouge in the counter-top from an unfortunate encounter with the rock-hard skull of a dhampire (a fainting spell in January) is as good an excuse as any to replace cheap white plastic with tougher stuff. We could replace these, Casimir: imagine we instead had marble, not real marble, of course, don’t look at me like that, but something ‘marble-adjacent’.

At first, he only grins in response to Callisto’s not-so-subtle recommendations. The colour scheme has it’s own garish charm, he says, a relic from a different era of disco and poor design. What was the point in getting new counters if he runs the risk of breaking them again the next time he collapses? Not that he’s ever taken a funny turn in her presence.

That is, of course, one half of his unvoiced objection: why even change it up now that he’s approaching the end of his natural lifespan? His grandmother, the one on his mother’s side given his paternal one died in 1899, spent her eighties in a house that hadn’t changed since her husband died. Not an ornament out of place, not a changed pillowcase. Looking back, Casimir attributes that to more than just nostalgia. A fear of change he is familiar with, of fixing things up only to find out that he doesn’t much like it and there’s no way to eke out another twenty hours from the time he’s got left. Nobody in the history of the world has ever thought, ‘Oh, I want the walls to be floral-patterned when I kick the bucket,’ and yet…

Ditto for burnt orange.

Eventually, he finds things to dislike about the flat himself, however small they might be. “I’ve always hated these curtains,” he confesses in March, out of the blue but a long time coming. “Didn’t even choose them; they came with the place. No time to buy new ones, either…”

Callisto raises an eyebrow and leans in closer, the flowing sleeves of her blouse pooling around her elbows on the island counter.

Unprompted, Casimir spins around once more on the spot, taking in the flat with fresh eyes for the first time in twelve years. “We could spruce it up a bit, give it a lick of paint and such. New furniture.” He whets his lips before suggesting it. “You know, redecorate?”

When she smiles at him, eyes sparkling as if this was her plan all along (which, as it later turns out, was exactly the case) his answer is a sheepish grin at having taken so long to come to his senses.

“That sounds like a grand idea. Where do we start?”

“I’ve never been a big DIY bloke,” he says, “but if we’re on a quest for paint, there’s a place ten minutes away.”

ii.

They wander through the warehouse aimlessly, aisle by aisle, picking up various bits and bobs that are not entirely necessary before they get to the paint. A set of brushes here, ceramic plant-pots there. Those are for a wishful-thinking sort of hobby that Casimir just never found the time to start. Gardening in London is a laugh-out-loud joke: there’s no room for watering or weeding in a fast-moving, barren, grey, polluted city. Faraday Heights was not designed with greenery in mind, and he doubts these would even fit on the balcony.

But the thought of planting something and watching it bloom and grow over the year(s) he has left eases some unspoken tension yet to be overcome. Relief from the dread that he keeps pushing to the dark corners in the back of his mind.

Callisto waits under the light fixtures. She glances at him curiously as he brings his finds back to the trolley.

He shrugs. “It can’t be that hard to grow a plant, can it?”

The world is their oyster and Casimir’s credit cards are limitless –– in theory. No need to fret about debts for a man with one foot in the grave. Regardless of their freedom, to make the experience of planning home decoration less dull is an impossible ask, and as the hour drones on, the monotony is replaced by something much worse. The bright, flickering lights above set a pounding rhythm in his skull, pulsing through every fibre of his being.

Not here, not now.

He was doing so well in ignoring it, too.

“I can go look at floors or something while you pick out colours,” he suggests lightly as the dam begins to crack. The first trickle of pain courses along his jawline. He grits his teeth against both it and the urge to find a dark corner to hide in for half an hour, waiting for it to subside. “I’ve never had an eye for this kind of thing.”

“Don’t be silly. What if I pick something you absolutely loathe?” is all Callisto says, looping her arm through his in a fluid movement before he can even realise he’s being dragged off in the wrong direction. “Plus, I need to show you what ‘arctic blue’ looks like, otherwise you’ll never believe it’s a real colour.”

“Oh, I believe it’s a real colour. I just think that most people call it ‘blue’. Pale blue, at a push,” he teases.

Frayed nerve endings burn beneath his skin, but so do his cheeks. As always, her hands are cold. As long as he focuses on that, on the good, on her, he can maybe mask it for a while longer. That he is going to have to tell her eventually weighs heavily on his mind, shooting distracting pain down his rib-cage until he dismisses that thought for later. B&Q is hardly the place for that.

Deal with it.

There’s something about her expression, brow furrowed in concentration, worrying at her lip as she flicks through the palettes with graceful disdain, that captures and held his attention.

“As long as it’s not red, I’m happy,” he says, surreptitiously leaning most of his weight against the desk. Measuring his breathing against the ringing in his ears. Forcing a small closed-mouthed smile. “Vampire-chic is not my jam.”

He scrapes the inside of his lip with a short, blunted fang.

[google-searchhistory-official]

That is funny and I'd probably think the same

Every now and then when its late at night I will gaze at the window and feel dread at creaks and groans of an old adobe house. Doesn't help that I've come into a few instances I cannot explain by any logic other than paranormal, this next paragraph doesn't contain one just some freaky dreams.

the house I grew up and currently live in is an old church thats been made into a home but its impossible to tell. In my by brothers room that we once shared i had a vivid dream of entering through a door into a small narrow room with nothing but a closed toychest and an intense feeling of being watched. The room doesn't exist but there is an outline of a door that also never existed within the paint. Not that this is paranormal or anything but it is strangely the most real dream I've had aside from one where i was in my own room on my bed with thousands of scorpion spiders crawling on the floor.

The real paranormal encounters were of a late night with my dad and youngest brother, we all saw what we thought was my grandma walking through the kitchen into another room and only a small chill which is common. Didn't think much of it until my dad asked my mom what her mother wanted and suvsequently we all learned she was not here. And we all remember it.

Speaking of my youngest brother he often claimed to see quite a few shadow people in the house in corners and certain rooms. I never saw them but after he told me he never brought it up again even when pressed, he was also extremely hesitant to tell me about it the first time.

We also had a chucky doll that was burned in a fire and always popped up in random odd places. Plenty of other dolls as well that felt like they were watching you but thats only because its hard not to feel watched by painted eyes.

My personal experience with the paranormal involves my cousin as we both stargazed and saw a bright green green light similar in size to the moon zip across the sky faster than any plane in just a second.

I also hear someone say something or call my name often and usually chalk it up to auditory hallucination. Save on two occasions, one where I answered a coworker and caught him by surprise as he was just about to call my name but never said it. And the other was me hearing my mom say my name while i was at college and got a phone call within a few seconds. but also, it wasn't there voices, its damn near similar but off in the back of my head and slightly pitched up. Also for some reason, some of the more superstitious people i meet, without any evidence or reason, seem to think i'm psychic.

I would say more if i could remember but fun fact, I live nearish a ufo watch tower. There's one close to The Great Sand Dunes national park and an infamous ufo case can be found if you search Snippy the Horse.

why are y'all tiktokers interacting with the fae and paranormal. the paganism I understand since old gods protect more than harm. but talking to plants and seeing them physically react means your allowing yourself into contracts you don't understand. I'm skeptical but I still have sense to learn about the potentials of the unknown before attempting any interaction with it and the fae and nature are typically the most questionable with their intent

[carterhaughs]

Tulip being touched by The Saint is obviously going to have some after effects. As Ruth said, she walked out of that kitchen a different Tulip. I'm wondering if because he's just the absence of anything good, and soulless, if it's kind of like when Frodo was stabbed by the Morgul blade, where he's always cold in that spot, always has dreadful flashbacks lurking. If she's now had to face her mortality then I wonder if she could be taking stock of her life, maybe seeing things in Jesse the she

never let herself see before. And that could play into why she kisses Cassidy, beyond wishing him luck since he’s about to be shot. I don’t think a pre saint grab Tulip would have done it….

I think you’re right, and I think that LotR comparison is dead on, for all the reasons I discussed earlier re: Tulip’s encounter with the Saint and how Ruth has described its effects. Ruth also described him the way you just did - “This is a man who has no light - nothing. Nothing there.” 

And from what I can tell from the sneak peek we got (have you seen it?), she may also be mad at Jesse in that scene. There’s a distance between them that wasn’t there before for all sorts of reasons and that they can’t get used to.

[howdeecoyote]

Prompt 1: Welcome Home

This is from my personal prompt list. These will vary between one-shots and multi-chaps. I’ll post them on my fanfiction account, too, so check me out over there! (Link in bio)

Prompt 1: Welcome Home 

SasuSaku

Post-”The Last”

One-Shot

Sakura's hands trembled. Each expert chop shredded away the round cabbage she'd purchased earlier that day in the market when the sun was high and the streets were busy. Now, it is almost evening. It is time for families to gather, for meals to be prepared. It is time for friends to speak of joyous memories and mundane duties, with smiles on their faces and food in their stomachs. 

With an expert flick of her blade, the sliced vegetable gathered atop her knife. She separated it equally into three mounds, placing it neatly beside the Tonkatsu pork chops she had finished frying only minutes before. The woman took a step back to eye her plates. Were they presentable? Did it taste well? Sakura had followed her mother's recipe perfectly, but she had a knack for making even the freshest foods inedible. There's nothing wrong with adding healthy ingredients…but many tended to be bitter and hard to swallow. With a vicious inhale, the slender woman devoured the aroma of her hard work and went to fix the table.

She had very important guests coming. As she sat the last of the chopsticks down, three simple knocks rapped on her front door. Wiping her sweaty hands on the front of her apron, she untied it and hung the worn thing on the handle of her kitchen oven. Sakura's steps were slow and graceful, despite her uneven heartbeat. Naruto stood before her with masculinity and aristocracy. Though his eyes would always show innocents, it was clear that he had mature. He was no longer the wild, sly fox of his youth—after all, he would be Hokage in a few years.  

Training was difficult and tedious for the Kyuubi. Sadly, because he was busy learning the trade, he and Sakura rarely saw each other much anymore. Still, the man made sure to keep at least one day out of the year open for her. Sasuke had promised the same. Naruto smiled—a charming little thing that showed off the whiteness of his teeth—and brushed by her petite form. "It smells great, Sakura-chan. Is the teme here yet?"

Sasuke had always been punctual. She assumed that if he had not made it to her home at seven on the dot, he wouldn't be arriving at all. The man had been traveling for months now—searching for a redemption he would not find in the loneliness of damp forests and unfamiliar towns. It worked out well for the village, because he was often put on secret reconnaissance missions, and he could protect his people from the outside. Still, Sakura missed seeing him.

She respired, letting the heartache flow from her lips as if it were the very air inside of her.  "I don't think he'll make it…again."   It was the second year in a row. Together the old friends sat, sipping frothy green tea and speaking of important assignments and hospital conundrums. As they conversed, Sakura realized how…utterly uneventful her entire year had been. When she was a girl, a new year meant a new start. Things like a different hairstyle or losing weight to suit her structure better had always been at the top of her lists of "change". 

She did not have the time for such thoughts anymore. The business of her life had taken such a strong hold; a full year had come and gone uninterestingly, but busily. Though Konoha's peace was always a blessing, the woman couldn't help but feel…trapped. It was almost like life was just an endless cycle of scraped knees, emergency surgeries, and non-threatening missions. Naruto spoke of his expecting wife and how excited he was. His years have been a lot more interesting. Hinata was three months along now—and although she had just started to show, the entire village already knew of their pregnancy. 

A hero's child was soon to be born. Everyone was excited to meet the heir. Sakura, especially. 

The blush-haired woman finished her meal and gathered her dishes dazedly as Naruto continued. He waved his arms wildly with excitement. "She eats all of the time now. I'm lucky that she craves ramen, at least!"

"What if your child develops that habit? Make sure she takes all of the proper prenatal vitamins and only eats ramen as a treat. It's so high in sodium!"   She couldn't help chiding him. Naruto always had a way of reminding her of his prepubescent self, and of better days—innocent days—when she had something to pick on him about. She grinned as he brought her his empty dish, leaning against her as he rinsed and scrubbed.

"You're getting better at making food, ya know."

"I practice all of the time." 

"It's a pity you'll throw that one away. I'm…really sorry, Sakura." The sincerity behind Naruto's words was not lost on Sakura. She discards the leftovers and leans against her counter, thinking of Sasuke and wherever he may be.

"It's alright. The food is cold, but his heart is warm. Something must have come up for him to be absent."

She had hoped to woo Sasuke with her improving skills as a housewife. For a moment, the night before, she could almost picture the subtle quirk of his eyebrow as he walked into her home. Perhaps he would say, "It smells nice in here. Did you cook all of this? I'm impressed!"   She rolls her eyes.

As a Genin, Sasuke had expected her to train more and get stronger, so she could be a useful kunoichi and defend herself. As a Chunin, Sakura had become one of the strongest ninjas in the entire nation. Now, as a Jōnin—powerful and famous and an expert in medical expertise—she was worried about childhood fantasies all over again?

It all felt silly. She is caught in between, no longer a child and not yet a woman. The ripe age of 20 tended to do that to you.

Naruto left not long after. He was the anxious type, and when away from Hinata for too long he began to get antsy. Sakura enjoyed his company, though, and reminded him that he was always welcomed in her home. When he left, he took his brightness with him. The emptiness of her one-bedroom flat only taunted her. But, life was as happy as it was sad, and loneliness was nothing to dread. It would be bedtime soon, but Sakura was not tired in the least. 

She sat on her couch and zoned out to the news and weather, frowning slightly at the imminent chance of rain.

As her television blared and its cool blue glow tinted the color of her living room, a small knock sounded on her door. The wind had been howling since midnight, sending waves of fallen leaves against her home. For a moment, she thought that something from outside had come loose and pecked against the wood of her door.

But then, it happened again.

Wrapping her shawl around slender shoulders, she toed on her slippers and grabbed her hidden kunai from underneath her coffee table. She was a kunoichi, after all. Tentative steps led her to the front of her home, and with an excruciatingly slow turn, the knob unlocked and she peeked on into the darkness of the night.   "Sasuke-kun?"

The tall man brushed passed her and shook the leaves from his floppy black hair, letting them fall on the ground of her foyer. She took his cloak in a bewildered panic, brushing the smooth cotton with her fingertips before hanging it on a coat rack. 

"W-w-welcome…" her voice faltered, and the phrase she'd worked so hard on tumbled gracelessly to her newly dirtied floor.

"I didn't make it in time."

Sasuke's statement caused a red heat to feather her cheeks. She smiled as warmly as she could, shaking her head in a ‘don't-worry-about-it' gesture. "You must be hungry. Can I make you something to eat? You can use my bathroom if you need to."

Sasuke was the type of man that could look impeccable even in the thickest of grime. Sakura could not remember a time when he smelled of perspiration or of body odor, even in the longest and most grueling of missions. His scent, however, was always different, almost like his body soaked up the environment around him. 

He smells humid and rainy like he'd encountered a heavy thunderstorm that left him completely dry. She inhaled him.

"Ah," He says, under the impression that her unabashed sniffing had caught something rather unpleasant. He followed her to her small restroom and took the spare clothes she had. It was a simple black top and men's bottoms, still soft and new from a recent purchase.

"I've been stocking up on spare clothing," She explains. "I always get strange visitors in the middle of the night. You wouldn't believe how many stone-cold ninjas are too afraid of Tsunade to go to the hospital!"

Sakura knows that, if he'd let her, she would babble for hours. But he wants to wash up, and her mouth would certainly send him back out to the wilds if she didn't keep calm. 

She makes her way to the kitchen and starts to prepare a modest meal—rice balls with bonito flake filling. She is grateful for her mother's advice in this moment—to always leave her rice out to soak overnight—and it gives her plenty of time to fix her hair and fold up the shawl left on her couch. When everything looks presentable, the woman turns on her tea kettle and waits, thinking of all of the things Sasuke has missed out on, and all of the things she wanted to tell him.

  For some reason, Sakura only has unimportant things pop into her head. Though she knows no one would be interested in the strange price increase on deer antlers and thisslebush flowers like she is, (because they are used frequently in the medical field), she can't help wanting to express this to him. Sakura wants to tell Sasuke that the red bridge they used to meet on has a loose plank—the third to the right. She wants him to know that the cabbage vendor has a new grandson, and that her landlord just turned 68, and that she broke her favorite glass vase a few months ago and still hasn't found a replacement.

Sakura doesn't want to talk about how long he will stay, or when he will be leaving again.

When he walked into the kitchen—barefoot and still toweling off his thick, ebony locks—she had just finished shaping the last onigiri. She is shy with her steps but genuine with her smile. So when Sakura places the food down on the table and pulls the chair out for him, Sasuke can't help but eye her skeptically. She's not angry like his mother would have been for arriving so late. She's not needy like Naruto is when he hasn't seen Sasuke for a while. She's not nagging like Kakashi does when Sasuke doesn't give notice of a delayed arrival. 

No, she is simply Sakura—warm, inviting, and loving—like she always had been.

Sasuke looked at the meal in front of him. He cannot remember how long it has been since having food prepared just for his sake. During his travels, if anyone asked where he was coming from, Sasuke said he belonged to the land—that he was just a roamer with no home to come back to. But he has found his home in Sakura, no matter where he lays his head at night.

  Placing his towel over the armrest of the chair, Sasuke approached her. His words could never fully convey his gratitude, his thankfulness—not like his actions could. 

Gathering her face in his hands, he meets her gaze fully. In this proximity, Sasuke can see the flecks of gold and silver in her shocked irises, and the feathering blush that blooms across the bridge of her nose, and the parted mouth pant that escaped just before her breath was captured against his lips.

And when he moves away, still in her gravitational pull, Sakura says the words she's wanted to say to him the most—the words that wouldn't come out before. It is not about deer antlers, or thisslebush flowers, or the vase she cannot replace. 

It is about them.

"Welcome home, Sasuke-kun."

And in the end, Sakura knew she was right. Because the food may grow cold as their kisses get deeper, but his heart will always be warm. In her hands, he could never grow cold again.