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wehavebiggerproblems · 3 years

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Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project.

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing.

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances.

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy.

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's.

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though.

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally.

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour.

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig.

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works.

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back.

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters.

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization.

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo.

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes.

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole.

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper.

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible.

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy.

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine.

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him.

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach.

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior.

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate.

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon.

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute.

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him.

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children.

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it.

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week.

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately.

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office.

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped.

-And then the radiation sickness took over.

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most.

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.)

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

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semisgroupie · 3 years

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The Woman Who Used to be Mrs. Jones

Genre: smut, fluff (kinda at the end?), angst

Pairing: Aoi Todo X F!Reader

Word Count: 6.4k words

Warnings (some of the content can be triggering so please read through the warnings before reading this): cheating (in this Todo is the other man/reader is in a loveless marriage where her husband cheats on her/her husband is just a huge asshole), toxic relationship, sexual scenes, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), oral sex (f! and m! receiving), dirty talk, multiple creampies, bathroom sex, praise, risky sex (they fuck at a party the reader and her husband is hosting), mention of a small altercation between Todo and reader’s husband, mention of a child & brief mention of pregnancy (not detailed), if I missed anything let me know

A/N: I do not condone, support or encourage cheating! It is not good, don’t do it! The song Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul helped me with creating this piece so I recommend listening to it while reading this. This has depicted sex within this so MINORS DNI (I’m not gonna cry bc I don’t cry but I am not afraid to beat some ass) So I hope you all enjoy it, comments/reblogs are very appreciated!!! I also apologize in advance if formatting is weird on mobile :/

Flashbacks are bolded & italicized! Also separated by a border!

Todo walks up to the counter of the cafe and orders the usual for the both of you. He came early since he was done with work earlier than usual so after paying for the drinks he carried them to the special spot you two shared. Once seated he takes his phone out to check the time while taking a sip from his drink.

The time read 5:45. You got out fifteen minutes ago and your job wasn’t too far from the cafe, so you’d be there soon. The bell chimed to the cafe and Todo looked up to see you walk in.

His heart pounded in his chest, you looked as beautiful as you did the first day he met you all those years ago in high school. Once you two made eye contact you flashed him a smile and made your way over to him.

“Hey baby, I didn’t think you’d be here before me.”

He felt his cheeks flush at the pet name. You leaned down to hug him and give him a kiss, placing your hands on each side of his face caressing him as your lips met. Once you pulled away you sat down and started talking about your day at work.

He couldn’t help but lose focus as to what you were saying. He knew your day was tough from how your hair looked a bit disheveled from running your hands through it, a habit you had picked up when you were extremely stressed.

Time passed as the two of you spoke about each other’s days and then you were both done with your drinks.

“Wanna go home now Aoi? As much as I love it here I found this new recipe online that I would really like to try out!”

He nodded as you both got up, tipped the cashier one last time before heading to your shared home. The distance was short from where you both were currently and when you two were together even one hundred miles would feel like two blocks.

As Todo put the key in to unlock the door he sighed in content. Once you both were inside he took your jacket off and put it away. He leaned on the kitchen island while you started taking out ingredients for dinner.

“This isn’t a dream right Y/N?”

It just felt so unrealistic to him he just had to be dreaming. Your laughter filled the air as you walked towards him. You wrapped your arms around his body and looked up at him.

“While we did this in the most unconventional way it is very much real” you removed your left hand from his body to put your hand close to his line of view, “this ring you gave me a few months ago is proof of our love and the ring I gave you on your left ring finger is also proof of my love and dedication to you.”

Unconventional? Was that even the right word to explain the events that led you both to where you are now?

You started your arrangement with him two years ago. You became “Mrs. Jones” a year before that. A happy marriage was wished to the both of you, but your marriage was anything but that. Six months after you both said your I do’s you found your husband in bed with his boss. They didn’t even think about trying to conceal their affair.

To say it broke your heart was an understatement. You felt like he ripped your heart out of your chest and destroyed it slowly as you watched. Soon there were lonely nights filled with you drinking and crying yourself to sleep. Soon after you just became numb, you got used to putting up a facade whenever your friends or family asked how married life was.

The only one who knew of the affair and how horrible your marriage actually was, was your best friend Valerie. When she first found out you had to hold her back the next time she saw him because she was just filled with rage. You were trying to find a good divorce attorney, but you just didn’t have enough money yet, so you were stuck for the time being. Then it was time to plan how to celebrate one year since the day you married him.

Valerie said that she would bring a special surprise for you, but you just pushed it to the side. You settled on hosting a party at your parent’s house since it was big enough. The fake smile you had plastered on your face burned your soul more than the cheap ring on your finger. A cheap ring that meant the entire world one moment but now means absolutely nothing.

You were leaning on the wall, holding a glass of champagne, next to your husband as Valerie approached you.

“Y/N! You look absolutely stunning!” she gave your husband a side glance as she begrudgingly said his name, “Declan... anyways I have your surprise so come with me to the backyard!”

Before you could say anything she grabbed your hand and weaved both of you through the crowd of people. She opened the door and you almost dropped your glass at the sight.

“Aoi? I thought you were away in Sweden?”

Todo brings a hand to his neck.

“I was but my job relocated here, and Valerie told me everything. As much as I’d love to say congratulations, I can’t.”

Your body moves on its own as you approach him and hug him. He holds you on instinct and all that is heard is sniffles. You move back and quickly apologize for your abrupt actions.

“Hey, don’t apologize pretty girl” he brought his hands to cup your face and wiped the tears from your face, “Declan should be the one apologizing, how could he take someone like you for granted. I know you might not believe me, but you look just as beautiful as you did when we were in high school.”

The two of you were high school sweethearts but got accepted into different colleges. The inevitable happened and you both broke up, heading your separate ways losing contact. The last thing you heard about him was he had a job in Sweden and that was it. After college you met Declan and he seemed like a knight in shining armor, but it was too late for you to realize he was the devil in disguise.

You leaned into his touch as if you two were the only ones there. Only if he was the one you married; you both would be so happy. You wouldn’t have to worry about any mistresses or affairs because even in this moment you felt all his love. Todo moved in and before you knew it you felt his lips on yours.

You melted into the kiss immediately kissing him back until he abruptly pulled away.

“I am so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to you’re still married, and this is the anniversary party and he’s inside—”

“I don’t care about Declan. The only one I care about is you. Valerie always says I should be a little selfish and now is the time. I still care about you Aoi, I still love you. The piece of my heart that left with you is now back and I’m whole again. I understand if you’re not comfortable with this, I am trying to find a lawyer and once I get the promotion at my job I can finally pay for one.”

You looked up at him hoping he would indulge you in one last kiss even if it would be the last one you two ever shared. You watched as a smile grew on his handsome face.

“I love you too Y/N, I always had and I always will. When Valerie told me about everything I cannot explain the anger I felt not only at him but also myself. If I never left then you wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe you would’ve been with me.”

He leaned down and placed another kiss on your lips. Before it could continue Valerie ran out to the both of you.

“Hey lovebirds as much as I love seeing you two together Declan is starting a toast and wants his wife by his side.”

She rolled her eyes as your husband’s name left her lips. You took a deep breath and turned inside, Valerie and Todo following you. You took another deep breath as you made your way to your husband putting up the fake smile. He handed you a glass of champagne and started the toast.

“This past year with my beautiful wife by my side has been the best year of my life. Waking up next to her every morning is what fuels my fire. I love this woman so much and marrying her was the best decision of my life. Thank you all for coming and supporting us. Here’s to a happy, healthy marriage and for many more years to come!”

As glasses clinked and cheers filled the room you were filled with disgust at his words. How could he spew such garbage knowing it meant absolutely nothing?

“Come on honey, you can do a better job with that fake fucking smile. Make everyone believe that we’re in love and that I haven’t fucked almost every single one of my coworkers. Maybe I’ll even indulge in you tonight.”

“Fuck you Declan, you piece of shit.”

You excused yourself to the bathroom shoving your heel into his foot making him wince in pain. Todou followed you upstairs a few minutes afterwards hearing your sobs. He knocked on the door once, twice until your shaky voice responded.

“Hey it’s me, I wanted to check on you.”

He waited hearing your heels click on the ground until you reached the door to open it. You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, eyes puffy from all the rubbing and wiping your tears away. Todo looked at you with so much love it was as if Eros struck him with his bow.

He quickly placed his lips on yours, the kiss feverish but also very loving. As if he was telling you how much he loved you each time his lips met yours. He picked you up and placed you on top of the bathroom sink, quickly running to shut and lock the bathroom door.

“Please let me make you forget about him. Please let me show you what it is like to make love and not fuck. Please Y/N.”

All you did was nod before placing your lips back on his allowing your hands to slide down and undo his belt. He allowed you to undo his belt and pants letting them hit the ground while he was lifting the skirt of your dress up.

“As much as I’d love to take my time worshipping your body we have to make this pretty quick beautiful. But please if you want to stop at any time stop me.”

You nodded at him as you felt his hand lightly graze your clothed pussy. He moved your panties to one side as he slipped a finger in, slowly moving it then inserting a second finger moving it just as slow but each movement made you moan and shiver. You started getting impatient and you grabbed his wrist.

“Please Aoi, please make love to me.”

He slotted his lips against yours again as he removed his cock from his boxers. Moving the tip against your folds making you both moan in the kiss. Once he entered you, slowly and gentle, you broke away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan. Once you gave him the okay he started thrusting.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby. Just holding me like you don’t want me to let go.”

He moved faster hitting all the right spots. It was as if his cock was designed to fit inside your pussy. Both of your moans and groans filled the small bathroom. It quickly became heated as the mirror started to fog up. He started thrusting into you faster and harder making you throw your hands on the mirror for stabilization.

He placed sloppy kisses along the column of your neck. He lifted himself from your neck to lick two of his fingers and place them on your clit, moving them in small tight circles.

“Come on baby cum for me. Cum all over my cock and I will fill you up. I’ll make this pretty little pussy so fucking messy with my cum and you’ll walk around in that party filled with it. You look so fucking gorgeous baby. I love you so much.”

That sent you off the edge, creaming on his cock with a high pitched moan of his name. He continued pounding your pussy through your orgasm as he was nearing his own. You pulled him in for another kiss running your nails up and down his clothed chest. Feeling your nails against him made him reach his own peak, filling you completely with his cum.

Todo peppered kisses along your lips, swollen and puffy from kissing so intensely, as you both came down from your highs.

“I’m going to pull out now okay?”

“Okay that’s fine.”

You didn’t need to tell Todo to be gentle, he was already treating you like fine glass. He slowly pulled out and quickly moved your underwear to cover your cum filled pussy. A low chuckle left his lips.

“Don’t want you leaking cum all over the place.”

He lifted you off the bathroom sink after picking up both his pants and boxers. Before you could even smooth out your dress Todo did it for you, fixing any flyaways in your hair and placing one last kiss on your lips. He unlocked the door and helped lead you to the stairs.

“We should head down at separate times so we don’t look so suspicious.”

You nodded, placing one last kiss one his lips.

“I love you Aoi.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

You went downstairs and walked to your parents. You had a small limp and it filled both Aoi and yourself with joy seeing how your husband stared, completely confused at you. Valerie leaned next to you close to your ear.

“I already gave Aoi your phone number, go get that dick again.”

She lightly smacked your ass, a small yelp leaving your lips. The party went on for a couple more hours, lingering glances shared between you and Todo. When the party ended you had to figure out a ride situation since your husband drank way too much and you were a little tipsy.

Declan’s brother offered to take him back and before he could offer you a ride Todo came up and offered to take you home, to which you immediately agreed. The ride was filled with laughter and talk of memories. Also, when Todo parked at a secluded area near where you live you thanked him for the ride with a mind blowing blowjob.

He dropped you off in front of your place, being the gentleman he is, he walked you to the front door giving you one last kiss.

“I hope to see you again soon beautiful angel.”

“How about tomorrow? We could go get drinks or dinner.”

“There’s a cafe near my job, I’ll text you the address. Meet me there tomorrow when you’re done with work.”

You nodded as you fished your keys out of your purse. Taking a deep breath you unlocked the door and put your things away, heading straight to the guest bedroom because you refuse to sleep in the same bed Declan had all his whores in.

You thought he went to sleep until you heard a groan of your name. You rolled your eyes and continued going to the guest bedroom, ignoring him until you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“What do you want Declan?”

“What, I can’t touch my wife? You looked really sexy tonight so I thought I might do you the favor of fucking you.”

Fire burned in your veins. Every time you tried to pull yourself away from his hold, his grip got tighter.

“Declan, you’re drunk, and I hate you. Even if I was drunk I still wouldn’t go to bed with you, so make good friends with your hand or call one of your whores up because I will never sleep with you again.”

He turned you around.

“Listen here you bitch, you will never talk to me like that ever again. I did you the fucking favor of marrying your sorry ass now you treat me like this? I haven’t touched you in fucking months and this is what you tell me? Fuck you.”

“My sorry ass? Did me a favor? Did you also do me a favor by cheating on me over and over again? Did you do me a fucking favor then Declan? Rubbing it in my face that you didn’t love me the way I loved you, fucking anything that had tits and bringing them back here. I. Fucking. Hate. You. Rot. In. Hell. I don’t know what those girls see in you anyways, I had to fake almost all my orgasms and your dick has a weird curve, you should go see a doctor for that actually. I can’t wait until I have the money to divorce you and properly leave your sorry ass in the dust.”

You snatched your arm from his grip and locked yourself in the guest bedroom. You took off the heels and unzipped your dress letting it hit the ground as you made your way to the bathroom that was connected to the room. You took off the ring on your left hand flushing it down the toilet.

“That’ll be the last I see of you.”

You turned on the shower letting the water run, steam filling up the bathroom fogging up the mirror. You slipped your panties off the memory of your time with Aoi in the bathroom of your parents’ house filling your mind as you picked up the cum stained panties and put them in the laundry basket.

You entered the shower letting the water run over your body. After your shower you put your pajamas on and sent a goodnight text to Todo setting up the time for meeting at the cafe tomorrow. The next morning you woke up to an empty house, you let out a sigh of relief not wanting to deal with Declan after the stunt he pulled last night.

Your day at work went fairly quickly then it was the end of your workday. Inputting the address Todo gave you into the GPS you realized the drive was going to be pretty short. Once you found parking you walked into the cafe, the little bell on the door chiming with the movement. You looked around and saw Todo sitting at a corner side table, isolated from most of the crowd.

That’s when you started the arrangement. He was fine with being the sideman for now until he could properly have you to himself. Little dates and mind blowing sex filled your lives for the next four months.

~Four Months Later~

Todo was sitting at the table that basically became the unofficially assigned table for you both as he heard the chime to the door. His head shot up expecting you to come through the doorway. It was just an elderly couple. He checked his phone again, checking for any new messages from you and nothing. Just the last message that read: “I’ll see you soon my love”.

Today was the day you would find out if you got the promotion. With the promotion you would get a huge increase in your salary and a $2,000 advance once it was official. $2,000 was the amount you needed to finally afford the divorce lawyer.

Ten minutes passed and Todo ordered another drink for himself. To say he was nervous for you would be an understatement. He was fidgeting like crazy. He received the drink and sat back down at the table. The door chimed again and he looked up to finally see you.

You waved at him and gave him a small smile. Worry filled him and he was afraid to ask you how everything went.

“There’s no way she didn’t get the promotion. She has the best relationship with her boss and she works so hard.” He thought to himself.

You greeted him with a kiss on his head and sat down. He stood silent watching you.

“So I should tell you about what happened at work right Aoi?”

“You don’t have to honey, it’s fine.”

A smile graced your face, a genuine smile, the only type of smile that you shared with Todo since he filled you with genuine happiness.

“I got the promotion.”

Todo sat there in shock.

“What? What did you just say?”

“I got the promotion. I just came back from meeting the divorce lawyer to fill out necessary paperwork, that’s why I came so late.”

He got up from his seat and lifted you up into his arms.

“I’m so happy. I could yell from the rooftops.”

So he did the next best thing, he yelled about your promotion to the entire cafe. The people inside applauded you and gave you words of encouragement. The elderly man approached the both of you after Todo put you down.

“Congratulations to you young lady. This young man seems to be extremely proud of you. I didn’t mean to interrupt the celebration but it’s just that the both of you remind both my wife and I of us when we were younger. While we met under unconventional circumstances we have spent the past 30 years together. I wish you both a happy, healthy relationship.”

You both thanked the old man and watched him walk back to his wife.

“Do you think we’ll be like them one day Aoi?”

He pulled you close to him.

“I don’t think we will, I have a feeling I know we will. Now let’s go pick up your things and bring you back to my place to properly celebrate.”

He drove you to your house and walked with you inside to pack your clothes. In the midst of packing things you both heard the front door slam shut, meaning one thing: Declan was home.

“Care to explain the car in front Y/N? I know you don’t have enough money to afford a new one.”

You sighed and continued packing with Todo.

“I was asking you a fucking question -- oh who’s this? Why are you packing? Oh I get it now, finally got a new guy to deal with your shit? Good luck buddy--”

Before Declan could get another sentence out Todo walked over and shoved him against the wall.

“Don’t you ever speak to Y/N like that again asshole. For your information, she’s leaving you and coming with me. A guy who actually loves her.”

Declan stood there shocked that someone stood up to him. Once you zipped up your bag Todo left Declan to help you. Todo walked behind you with your bag in his hand. You turned one last time to Declan.

“Oh by the way I’ve been having sex with Aoi for the last four months and the first time was at the anniversary party. The reason I was limping was because of him not because of my heels. And you’ll be getting my divorce papers soon, go fuck yourself Declan.”

You walked with Todo to his car and he drove you back to the cafe so you could bring your car to his place. Once you entered through the front door he was on top of you. Placing sloppy kisses all over your lips and neck.

“You looked so fucking sexy there Y/N.”

He picked you up and brought you to his bedroom while you were peppering kisses along his neck. He put you on the bed and started stripping, you followed suit until you were left in your bra and panties and he was left in his boxers.

He pushed you down on the bed and crawled over you. Placing kisses down your body, removing your bra once he got to your chest and removing your panties once he got to your hips. Not one inch of your body was left untouched by his lips except your pussy. The place you needed him most.

“Aoi please.”

“Please what baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Need you—your mouth on my pussy please.”

He wasted no time. He licked from your leaking entrance to your engorged clit. Making you throw your head back.

“I don’t know how but you taste better every time. I’m fucking addicted to how you taste.”

He dove back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and using a finger to tease your entrance. He was alternating between light sucks and harsh sucks making you buck your hips against his mouth.

“Aoi please fuck me. Wanna cum on your cock please.”

He gave your clit one last suck and took the finger he used to circle your entrance and put it in your mouth. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his finger made him even harder if that was possible. He stood up and took off his boxers, throwing them to a random area in the room.

He spit on his hand and pumped himself a few times as he made his way back on the bed.

“Are you ready my love?”

You spoke breathlessly “yes Aoi, please.”

He aligned himself and entered you slowly, going inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you. A moan leaving both of your lips.

“And correction my love, I don’t fuck you” you furrowed your brows but that expression quickly changed when he pulled himself back until only the head of his cock was inside you and he bottomed out again in a swift movement, “I make love to you.”

He leaned down placing his forearms on either side of your head slotting his lips against yours. His thrusts slowly increase in speed. He breaks the kiss to praise you.

“My beautiful girl is so talented. You look so gorgeous right now. So fucking beautiful, I love you Y/N. I love you so much.”

“Aoi, feels s’good. Please I’m gonna cum soon. You fill me so good, like you were made for me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and he slides his hand down between the two of you to rub circles around your clit. Your moans start increasing in pitch signaling that you’re going to cum. You bring your hands to his back and rake your nails down, digging into his skin, sure to leave marks. His ruts increased in speed bringing you to your orgasm.

“Fuck baby you’re clenching my cock so tight. I’m gonna cum so deep in your pussy baby. I’m gonna fill you up every single day because now you are mine.”

He emphasized each word with a hard thrust. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Once he cums he sinks his teeth in trying to conceal the guttural moan that leaves his mouth. Coming down from his high he lifts his head up.

“I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s no need to apologize Aoi, I’m sorry about the scratches on your back.”

“Don’t apologize pretty girl, with how often we’re going to be making love I’ll get used to it.”

He slowly pulled out and you felt the cum leak out of you. He picked you up and carried you bridal style to the shower. Let’s just say both of you were lucky that the neighbors were gone for the night.

~1 year later~

The both of you have been together for a year and four months. Todo was by your side the entire time throughout the divorce preceding. Comforting you and supporting you the entire time. Once your divorce was finalized your relationship received an official title.

Both of you were extremely happy but there was the voice in the back of Todo’s head that gave him doubts. When he went to go engagement ring shopping with Valerie the voice was there.

As he picked out the perfect ring for you the voice was there. His head was filled with doubts. Of course he loved you, he loved you more than anyone or anything in the world. He knew you loved him. His love for you was immortal, unconditional but he wasn’t so sure if it was the same for you.

That voice in his head hammering doubts over and over again it made him nervous. He started to wonder if he should bring the ring back. If he should change his mind. It was that voice.

“What if she gets tired of you like her husband did with her? What if she finds someone better than you? What if she doesn’t love you as much as you love her? Could you handle the heartbreak Aoi? Could you?”

He started getting distant from you, less kisses in the morning, leaving without saying goodbye, barely initiating sex, it made you worried. What if he’s getting tired of you like Declan? You texted him wanting to meet at the cafe after work. He just sent back a simple “okay”.

Reading it made you even more nervous than before. When you were done with work you drove as slow as you possibly could to the nearby parking lot. You opened the door to the cafe and once you looked around you saw Todo there, fidgeting.

“Is he going to end things with me? We were supposed to move to the new house next week.” You wondered to yourself, you both had so many plans for the future but the future is uncertain.

You sat down and it was silent. He nudged your drink over to you and that was the most interaction you got from him since you got there. It killed you to not talk to him and it was killing him too.

“Y/N, I’m scared.”

You looked into his eyes and saw the fear within them. But what could he possibly be scared about?

“Aoi, what’s wrong? What’s scaring you?”

“What if you get tired of me? What if you meet someone better than me? What if—”

“Aoi. Stop that please” your voice started shaking, it broke your heart to see the man you love being plagued with such fears.

“Aoi, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. You’re my love. You’re my soulmate. You make me happier than anyone in this world. You brighten up my day, the small things you do make me fall even more in love with you.”

You got up and bent down to hug him. You pulled back holding his face in your hands.

“Aoi I will never get tired of you. I let you leave me once and I never plan on doing it ever again. I love you Aoi Todo, I will love you until my heart stops beating and I will love you long after that. In every life I will look for you to recreate this love over and over again. If I had to go back in time I would go through this all over again just to be right here with you.”

Tears were falling down both of your faces by the time you stopped speaking. You wiped his tears away and he lifted his hands to wipe yours away. He pulled your face closer to his and kissed you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so so sorry.”

He muttered apologies against your lips and when you both pulled away it was his turn to speak. You sat back down holding his hands above the table.

“I just got scared Y/N. I love you so much and I just can’t imagine my life without you. I look forward to the future with you, I want you by my side through every single endeavor. You’re my everything. You’re the sun that brightens my day. You’re the stars that shine through my night sky. You’re the air that I breathe. I love you.”

You stood up and pulled him along with you as you both walked out of the cafe. You drove the both of you home and once you entered you led him to the bedroom. Once you entered you undid his work shirt and pants stripping him to his underwear. You led him to the bed and sat him down.

“I never want you to question my love for you ever again.”

You kissed him and placed kisses down his body. Little nibbles along his pecs, a flick of your tongue along his nipples, slow sensual kisses until you reached the waistband of his boxers. You tugged at the waistband and he lifted his hips to help you properly take them off.

His cock slapped against his abdomen. You took it in your hand and gave it a few gentle strokes. You placed featherlight kisses from the head of his cock to the base. You took his head into your mouth swirling your tongue around it and letting it go with a pop.

You took your hand and spit on it using it to lube his cock for you and you started to take more of him into your mouth. His moans and groans filling the room along with the sounds of you gagging yourself on his cock.

When you popped up for air looking at him he could swear he just saw a goddess in front of him. Even with your saliva and tears coating your face he has never seen anyone more beautiful than you. Even Aphrodite herself could not even come close to your beauty.

You got up and stripped off your clothing. You pushed him back gently to lay on the bed as you straddled him aligning his cock with your pussy. You sunk yourself down onto him, he tossed his head back into the bed feeling your warm slick walls welcome him in.

You started moving up and down slowly before gaining a rhythm bouncing on his cock. You moved your upper body close to his grabbing his face and making eye contact.

“I love you—ah fuck—Aoi. I love you so much. You fuck me so good. You are so handsome. Thank you for loving me.”

You felt his arms reach around your waist as planted his feet on the ground to pound into you. Once he started jackhammering into you repeatedly hitting your g-spot you felt yourself cumming around him over and over again.

He used this position to pull as many orgasms as he could from you until he had his own and with how tight you were around him it would be extremely soon. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

“Please cum inside me Aoi, please please please. I need you to fill me up please I need your cum.”

He pulled you down and his hips lifted bottoming out inside you, filling you with his cum. You let your full weight go onto him as you were catching your breath. Hard breaths filled the room. You looked at him and kissed him again.

“I love you Aoi.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

The following week you both moved into your forever home. Todo made dinner and ordered your favorite dessert to celebrate the move. It was also the day that he was going to propose. He knew how much you hated public proposals and receiving unnecessary attention so why not do it at home?

When you were doing the dishes making small conversation on how you saw a documentary about female serial killers he got the ring and went on one knee.

“So all of her victims were just random men who had green eyes, isn’t that—”

“Y/N.”

You turned around and dropped the sponge in your hand. Your jaw drops at the sight of the man you love and the most beautiful ring you have ever seen.

“Y/N, you have made me the happiest man the past year and four months. Time with you has been amazing. You make me feel like I have been floating on air and I never want to come down. I love you so much. Will you continue this journey of life with me, as my wife?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

You bent down to kiss him and he slipped the ring on your left finger. A few seconds later Valerie called, already aware of what Todo was planning to do. You set the date of the wedding six months from the day of the proposal.

The wedding was small and filled with only close friends and family. It was the happiest day of your life and everyone preferred Todo over your ex husband, even your father, who never liked any of your boyfriends.

“I like this guy a lot Y/N, I mean I’ve always liked him.”

“Dad you threatened to hunt him down when we first started dating in high school.”

“Oh honey it’s just dad stuff but that was a promise and it still stands.”

“Dad! He’s not like that, he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world and like I’m a precious gem.”

You both looked over at Todo sharing a dance with your mom and when he looked at you, you could see your future in them. Wherever he would go you would be there beside him as his wife.

“this ring you gave me a few months ago is proof of our love and the ring I gave you on your left ring finger is also proof of my love and dedication to you.” Todo leaned forward and kissed you holding you in his arms.

“I never thought that one person could make me feel so loved and make me feel so much love for them Y/N.”

Now married life was doing the both of you well. Nothing could tear the both of you apart. Not even the news on your one year anniversary that you both were going to have your first child. If Todo felt like he was on cloud nine before then holding your beautiful, healthy son in his arms made him feel he was in seventh heaven.

A/N pt2: thank you all for reading this, I’m really excited about how this work turned out I hope you all enjoyed it. This is by far my longest fic so I really appreciate you reading it through. I have much more on the way, if you have any requests my ask is open! Again thank you so much for reading I appreciate you all! — D <3

#aoi toudou x reader #aoi todo x f!reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #x female reader #tw cheating #tw toxic behavior #tw toxic relationship #tw unprotected sex #Aoi todo smut

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jewish-space-laser · 3 years

Note

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you.

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior.

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read.

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite.

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it.

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head.

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking.

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips.

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin.

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you.

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little.

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more.

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do.

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth.

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends.

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold.

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors.

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered.

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt.

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver.

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing.

“You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed.

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup.

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed.

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed.

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind.

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes.

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity.

He was sure you must pity him.

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns.

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough.

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now.

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet.

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets.

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk.

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn.

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin.

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this.

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped.

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind.

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be.

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already.

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really.

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end.

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason.

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything.

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street.

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time.

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

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imlostinsantacarla · 4 years

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alwayschic38: Hi! Can you pretty please do another dating Leah imagine?? Like what would it be like to be Leah’s imprint and spend time with her? How would she be towards her imprint? 💜💜

(a/n: heya hun! thanks so much for sending in your request. leah is literally my wife so i’m pumped to write for her at any given time bc my girl deserved better! leah is so precious, please for the love of god, protect her! anyways i hope you enjoy what i’ve come up with also lovely! - admin kat 🌙❣)

Disclaimer: i would like to thank @rosaliehalee for helping proof read, edit and co-write this with me! it means so much to me to have your help! 💕

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being Leah Clearwater’s Imprint and Spending Time with Her Headcanons:

° Whenever Leah happens to stumble upon any amount of free time, she obviously desires to spend it with you. You are officially her anchor, one of the few people in her life that keeps her sane in her hectic life of shape shifting wolves and vampires.

° Your company is so immensely soothing to her that she often begins time spent with you having a short nap with her wrapped in your arms. Leah doesn’t always admit it but she feels very vulnerable, so when you hold her, all of her worries seem to dissipate. But there are times where she also holds you back and you appreciate that Leah is showing you her vulnerable side, a side no one else gets to see.

° Honestly, Leah Clearwater is just so grateful to have such a supportive, loving, and respectful imprint such as yourself. She never feels alienated around you, instead you radiate a warmth that reminds her of what home used to feel like before her life turned upside down.

° When Leah has a Sunday off, she loves to spend most of the morning in bed with you cuddling. The pair of you will just bask in the warmth she radiates and either enjoy the silence or fill it with hushed whispers.

° Leah loves to have her head in your lap while you read a book out loud to her. Your free hand tends to wander through her hair, which is the fastest way for her to fall asleep. She even nuzzles her face into your tummy!

° She also loves to walk up and down the pebble-filled beaches of La Push, no matter what the weather is like. She’ll hold your hand, fingers intertwined with yours and do mushy things like watch the sunrise and sunset with you.

° You and Leah like to go out on dates whenever you can. These can consist of driving up to Port Angeles or Seattle to grab some dinner and go to a movie, go out to a bar, or just go to a park during the day. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, as long as you’re together. Dates with Leah are always laid back and just chill. She wants you to be comfortable around her. But to be honest, she spoils you rotten because you’re her baby!

° Y’all spend a lot of time with Leah’s family - and at the Swan residence since Sue, her mother, is now with Charlie - and it melts her heart to see you get on so well with Seth, her mother and Charlie. She also likes the fact that you get along with Jacob, Quil, Embry and the rest of the Black Pack.

° Due to Leah being a shape shifting wolf, she has stumbled across a lot of beautiful meadows and places in the woods that she just immediately thinks you would love. So cue her taking you to said places and spending a sunny day there with you - even if it’s raining, you guys will sit sheltered beneath a tree and listen to the rain pattering down and watching nature unfold around you.

° With you, Leah is incredibly playful. She enjoys doing spontaneous things together, such as mini road trips to Port Angeles for food. Sometimes you bring Seth, who’s always beaming from ear to ear as he watches the scenery fly by! You enjoy it when Seth tags along, but Leah doesn’t. You have to remind her that Seth needs attention too, to which she grumbles and pouts at.

° You both go on a lot of road trips together, sometimes taking her family or your family as well. It’s always a pleasant time.

° I imagine that she has a pickup truck that she inherited from her father, Harry. Sometimes, when the normally rainy skies have rolled their clouds out to sea, and the night is clear and bright, she’ll load a bunch of blankets and pillows in the bed of it, drive you both out to a safe spot at night and just cuddle in the makeshift bed she made with you. She’s so warm that you don’t need the blankets. You both stargaze and she tells you all about the different constellations,- something that her father taught her when she was young. The Quileutes were a fishing tribe who used the stars to navigate. She teaches you how to always find your way home, to her. She grins silly when she turns to look at you and you’ve fallen asleep, curled into a small ball into her side.

° Convincing her to take you cliff diving with her was a challenge. She thought it was a dumb idea because the boys do it to one up each other. Plus she heard about that stunt Bella pulled in New Moon and doesn’t want you getting any bad ideas. But once you’ve sold her on the pair of you jumping off together and holding hands, she comes around. She’ll start off on the smaller cliffs and work your way up to the top. She likes the thrill and also seeing how pumped you are afterwards makes her heart swell. And no, she didn’t let go of your hand the entire time!

° When you’re not over at her house or she’s not over at your house, she makes it a habit to call you an hour or two in advance of her nightly patrols. This is a way for her to spend time with you from a distance, if that makes sense? She loves to hear your voice grow sleepy and remind you of how much she truly loves you.

° When Leah is having a tough time with anything, you can just tell the minute that she walks in through the front door. You drop whatever you’re doing, open your arms and she climbs into your lap, whether you’re larger or smaller than her, and crushes you to her. Sometimes she cries and lets out her feelings and other times she’s silent, letting her mood pass over like clouds, acknowledging them and letting it go.

° Food means a lot to Leah, so she thoroughly enjoys cooking and baking in the kitchen with you. Sometimes she’ll let you taste a new recipe she’s made and smears the sauce on your nose because she’s goofy and carefree when she’s with you. Seth tends to walk in and pretends to vomit, only to get a piece of cooked spaghetti thrown at him. Poor kid!

° There’s a 99.9% chance that Leah is picking you up from work everyday. Even if she has patrol, she’ll get Jacob or someone else to cover for her. Honestly, Jacob and the others aren’t mad about it, they’re just happy that Leah is so happy, and glad they don’t have to hear her brooding thoughts anymore.

° Sometimes she’ll wait patiently in the car and other times she’ll casually just stroll into your work, wink, and fire a flirty comment at you. You can’t help but grin and laugh at her, because she’s so cute when she’s a dork. She embraces you, plants the sweetest kiss on your lips and then asks you all about your day.

° You attend a lot of the Quileute tribe bonfires with her and just bask in the relaxing and captivating atmosphere of the stories being shared. After the spell of Billy’s stories lets go, you always catch her beginning to snooze on your shoulder. Paul once dared to stick a wet finger into her ear and got his ass beat.

° You both even spend time at Emily’s. The tension between Sam, Emily, and Leah vanished once she found you. Although she and yourself still hold Sam accountable for the horrible crap he put Leah through, and the terrible scars marring Emily’s face But nevertheless, you just spend a lot of time with Emily because they’re both still best friends. Emily adores you so much and so does everyone else!

° Every second that you guys spend together is literally the sweetest and it melts my heart, okay?!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: closed!

#leahclearwater #leah clearwater #leah clearwater imagines #leah clearwater headcanons #twilight #twilight headcanons #twilight imagines #twilight saga #twilight saga imagines #twilight saga headcanons #twilight saga leah clearwater #twilight leah clearwater #twilight leah clearwater imagines #twilight leah clearwater headcanons #twilight saga leah clearwater imagines #i hope you enjoy these!#admin kat

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rvspberry · 3 years

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Cat boy Steve trying to cook/ BAKE??? something as a Christmas surprise???

(THIS WAS AN AMAZING ASK!!! And it ended up becoming a modern Catboy AU. And ended up longer than I expected. Anon, I hope you enjoy.)

Steve’s never baked cookies before. He’s never baked *anything* before, to be honest, and he’s never really thought about trying his hand at doing things in the kitchen until now. Billy cooks for them, mostly because Steve can burn water because he gets so easily distracted, ears twitching at every little noise and tail flicking with each new interest that catches his attention.

But the thing is… the thing is, Steve turns on the Hallmark channel the second week of December and watches romcom after romcom with people baking cakes and pies and whole Christmas dinners to show their love. Steve could maybe try cookies. They seem easy enough.

And, like, it sounds cool. Making cookies for Billy. Showing his love through something homemade. Like, he works part-time at Family Video, and he already bought Billy something small, something he could afford. But giving Billy something he put his heart into? Something made with love and care? Something he made with his own two hands?

The way the movies make it out, that’s the best thing he could ever offer to Billy, cookies worth their weight in gold.

It can’t be that hard, right?

So Steve turns to his first source of knowledge anytime he needs to find out how to do something new.

YouTube.

He’s a visual learner, okay? He likes being able to see the steps laid out in real time.

His attention span shoots for the sixty-second video where they do a run-through of the steps to making the perfect chocolate chip cookies. It’s long enough to hold his attention, short enough to keep him focused, and he feels so confident watching it that he goes out and buys all the ingredients he needs. He’s whistling to himself through the grocery store, smiles at the cashier, and when he gets home, he still feels utterly confident.

Until the batter comes out a lot more liquid than solid. The chocolate chips fall off the spoon before he can even scoop them up. Steve winces, but he followed the directions. Even if the directions didn’t have anything like measurements. He kind of eyeballs each ingredient. Two sticks of butter, two eggs, a cup each of flour and sugar, a hefty scoop of baking powder - and then the chocolate chips. But…

It looks weird.

It’s not right.

Steve dips his pinky into the batter and tastes it. It’s bitter, and not sweet enough. He still goes through with it, spooning the liquidy mixture onto the cookie sheet and popping it into the oven.

The oven is a whole other experience entirely, because Steve doesn’t know what the numbers really mean. He pushes a few until the numbers read 2-0-0. That seems like a long time, right? Or is it temperature? Whatever. It works.

...Except the video says to leave the cookies in the oven for 10-15 minutes, and when he pulls them out, they’re still raw. So he pops them back in for 20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour passes, and they seem to grow more disgusting with every minute that passes.

When he finally pulls them out, somehow raw on top and burnt on the bottom and sides, Steve tosses the whole thing - cookies, tray, and all.

Billy comes home later and crinkles his nose. “Did you burn something, babe?”

“No!” Steve is quick to reply, eyes wide when he looks up at Billy from his spot on the couch where he’d been laying in the sun earlier. “Nope. Not at all.”

“Okay…” Billy drawls, his eyes gazing over at Steve with confusion until he spots something and smiles. Strutting over to Steve, Billy reaches out and rubs his thumb over Steve’s cheek. “You got some flour on you.”

Steve lets out a yelp and flies to the bathroom to wash up properly, Billy snickering behind him.

Steve tries again the next week, the week before Christmas. Surely he can master it if he tries to follow a longer video, right? Something with measurements. Something that’s foolproof. And when the batter is finished, with Steve’s focus narrowing enough for him to measure every little ingredient out, it looks just like the video. He pulls it up on his phone, ears twitching as he listens intently.

He follows every step to the T, to the dotted ‘i.’ The sets the “bake” thing to 3-7-5 and puts the sheet inside to begin with. Even waits as the numbers turn from 1-0-0 to 1-2-0, thinking that he must wait 120 minutes for the oven to hear up. He groans when the 1-0-0 turns to 1-2-0… Really? That long? That’s how long it takes to heat the oven?

By the time the oven beeps and the numbers read ‘3-7-5,’ Steve has gotten distracted licking his paws and visibly startles into action.

He places the tray into the oven and even turns on the timer somehow for ten minutes.

But then Steve goes to the living room and lays down on the couch in the sun and starts cleaning his tail, licking the backs of his hands to clean his ears. He doesn’t want Billy to know he’s made cookies until he steps into the kitchen and sees the beautiful pile of them on a plate on the counter. Wouldn’t that be something?

So, ten minutes turn into twenty, and the smell of smoke tinges the air.

Steve crinkles his nose at the scent, his senses more sensitive than a human’s, and then his eyes widen comically in fear.

“No, no, no! Not my cookies!!”

Steve rushes to the kitchen to drag the cookies out of the oven with a mitted-hand and lays them on the stove. Confusion tinges his expression - it curls at the edges of his mouth, curls his eyebrows up, makes him completely disinterested and distrustful of the process. These were going to be fool-proof. Steve-proof.

And he messed it up again.

He scrapes the burnt cookies off the tray into the trash can and soaks the tray in the sink as best as he can, given how tiny it is.

Steve’s tail twitches. How did he screw this batch so badly? How did he not hear the timer?

He realizes that only one person can really help him right now, and resolves to call Joyce Byers.

Steve is still smarting from his last attempt, so it takes him another few days to get around to calling her. By the time he does, it’s Christmas Eve.

But Joyce seems happy to help, one catperson to another, and offers up the recipe for her homemade snickerdoodles.

“Could you- could you tell me how to make them? All the ones I’ve tried end up terrible,” he says, wincing at the admission.

“Of course, Steve. Just stay on the phone with me. Put me on speaker so you can use both of your hands. And don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, okay?”

“Okay…”

So, Joyce talks him through properly measuring the ingredients, leveling them off with a knife.

She describes adding the sugar and butter together and calls it “creaming” which makes him fight back a snicker.

He adds the eggs carefully, once at a time, fishing out tiny pieces of eggshell to make sure no one gets that unpleasant surprise. He adds the vanilla, the dry ingredients, rolls them into little balls in a mix of cinnamon sugar, and places them carefully on a baking sheet.

Steve thinks to ask her about the oven numbers and feels like an idiot when she tells him it’s not the time left for preheating but the temperature climbing up to 350’.

Joyce even keeps him on the phone while the cookies bake, both of them sharing information about the latest campaigns of the party. Steve doesn’t have the attention to stay interested in a campaign for as long as they take to trudge through, everyone rolling, everyone making a decision, the boys fighting about what is and isn’t allowed… It’s a lot, and he feels a little better when Joyce agrees with him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

His tail flicks back and forth, casual and easy and contented, and when the timer goes off in the background, Steve actually hears it and Joyce reminds him to take the cookies out to let them cool.

When Billy gets home that night, Steve can’t help the smug smile on his face.

“Damn, I think the neighbor was baking cookies or something, it smells so good in the hallway!” Billy says, toeing off his boots. He stops in the doorway and sniffs the air curiously. His blue eyes turn on Steve, who can’t even pretend to be innocent as his ears are flicked ahead, alert, and his tail whips back and forth with anticipation. “Baby… did *you* bake cookies today?”

The slow smile that steals across Steve’s lips is no less smug, and his tail flicks excitedly. He perks up, licking his lips.

“Do you want to try one?” Steve asks, affecting a shy look right up until Billy nods. Then, Steve stands quickly, shoots his hand out to curl around Billy’s wrist and drags him into the kitchen.

There, on a simple paper plate, are the snickerdoodles Joyce helped him make. Completely harmless, and yet they hold a weight to them that Steve cannot describe.

Steve’s eyes are wide as he watches Billy pick one up, can practically feed his pupils dilating as Billy raises the cookie to his mouth and he takes a bite.

Billy tuns to face him suddenly and Steve’s ears flatten in preparation to be told that they’re terrible. For Billy to spit them out, or- or whatever. To do something that shows that Steve’s efforts were all for naught.

“Steve, these are *delicious*!” Billy exclaims, then shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

“Really?” Steve asks. He looks at Billy through his lashes with his biggest, roundest eyes, a little pout on his lips.

“Baby, yes. Yes, they’re so fucking good,” Billy mumbles through a mouthful of cookie, chewing and swallowing what he had in his mouth. He pulls Steve into his arms and gives him a sweet kiss, the buttery-sugar-and-cinnamon flavor clinging to Billy’s lips. “Did you make these for me…?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, the weight on his shoulders lifting immediately. He ducks his head, trying to hide his grin.

Billy crowds him back against the counter, a hand on either side of Steve caging him in. Steve picks his chin up to lock eyes with Billy, who smiles warmly at him.

“Thank you,” Billy murmurs and turns his head to lean in and press their lips together. “They’re amazing. *You’re* amazing.”

Steve laughs softly and kisses Billy back, his hands moving up to slide into Billy’s hair. “You’re amazing, too. That’s why I made them for you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Billy whispers, and kisses Steve again.

#catboy steve harrington #harringrove #catboy content #catboy steve

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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The Real Urban Legend Behind The Grudge (2020) Franchise And The 13 Other Japanese Urban Legends That'll TERRIFY You + Plot Summary And Review

We are living in the age of the reboot.

Maybe it’s our search for nostalgia in a time of Trumpian and post-Brexit uncertainty. Maybe it's a desire to reflect on our past pop culture icons as we enter a new decade. Or maybe it's just a cash grab by greedy producers as they squabble over the latest bonus.

Either way, let’s just hope The Grudge (2020) was better than Cats.

(Spoiler alert: EVERYTHING was better than Cats.)

The first horror film to signal our entrance into the new era was a true champion of the genre, from the ungodly aesthetic to the nothing’s-off-limits Japanese take on the genre.

Dragging herself into the new year - fit with deathly white face, locks of dark hair, and a vocal style that would give Billie Eilish a run for her money - the ghost of Kayako and son, Toshio found a new way to terrify viewers.

And they weren’t even in the movie.

(Here’s the trailer:)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo_c5lu0W0k

But the true terror behind the film doesn’t start with you paying that much for a small popcorn and Dr. Pepper.

It doesn’t even end with the credits.

The Grudge - yes, all 11 movies from 2 separate franchises - is actually based on an urban legend that has haunted Japan to this day.

And if that wasn’t enough, the films capture components of paranormal activity that are awfully accurate to real ghost stories that go beyond the borders of the small island nation.

So, as your favourite blogger of all things spooky, I thought I’d take us on the express train to Suginami, Japan, to the house that started it all. Today’s post is going to recap the films, explain why the franchise is freak-a-liciously for-real, and go through the other Japanese urban legends you really don’t want to know about.

What’s The Plot Of The Franchise?

Like most Japanese horror films that have been subject to the American treatment (ahem, The Ring, ahem) too many films have been shat out via the silver screen.

But that’s not to say The Grudge film series isn’t worth a watch.

Nevertheless, to save you 20 hours worth of the same jumpscares, jealous ghosts, and attempts to sound out Japanese names, I thought I’d give you the tl;dr on ‘lil Toshio’s afterlife.

The Grudge franchise is actually made up of two films series: the Ju-On (the original Japanese series made up of 7 films) and the Grudge (the 4 American reboots).

Although the original series follows a much more twisted tale, the American version cuts ‘n’ pastes a couple of scenes from the original scripts replays them in the English language. But nevermind the ogre-like layers of films - the premise is the same in each film:

A curse - also known as the Ju-On - created in a house destroys everyone that comes in contact with it. The curse is reborn with every person that encounters it and is passed like a virus among family members.

Question is, where does this curse come from?

The story goes that a happy family were livin’ their bestest life when some bloke called Takeo believed his wife Kayako was having an affair with their son’s teacher.

In a fit of rage, he kills Kayako, Toshio (their son), and their pet cat.

According to the canon, when someone is murdered whilst angry or jealous, a curse is born and gathers where they died. The curse (or the haunting) then repeats itself, killing anyone that comes into contact with it.

“Hol’ up - a woman with a chilling pale face, a mop of black hair, a curse that kills everyone that comes near it… Doesn’t this sound a tad familiar?”

Yes, the Grudge series is basically the domestic abuse version of The Ring…

(Which you can read all about here - including the terrifying true stories behind it)

But did you know that it’s supposed to be?

The brains behind the Japanese-American franchise, Takashi Shimizu, was not only inspired and assisted by the brains behind Sadako’s tragic story, but also took inspiration from things that had haunted him throughout his own life:

He cites dancers painting their nude bodies white as the basis of the aesthetic for the film as made evident by the lookbooks of the leading roles, and noted that around the time of watching said dancers there was a notable rise in the number of domestic abuse cases.

Urban legends or domestic abuse - which scares you more?

Regardless of the backstory to the big screen, what actually happens in the films?

Here’s a quick summary of the Ju-On film series:

The series starts with a handful of abstract short films which dip into the hauntings, then evolving into a couple straight-to-dvd movies. Think Bring It On but with more dead people and less Rihanna.

Following on from their success, the cinematic hit Ju-On: The Grudge was sent to the big screen.

This is where the story properly starts.

(Here’s the trailer:)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYyPTyXlT9w

We finally see Kayako’s and Toshio’s story unfold and the curse attach to all those that come to the house. And this starts with social worker, Rika Nishina, who was summoned after the former social worker mysteriously disappeared.

As with all horror films, paranormal activity goes down, and Rika discovers the truths behind the house. But unlike the other films which just explore the hauntings of the families that just so happen to enter the house, this film explores the rebirth of the curse.

The basis of this film is that Rika is set to die the same way Kayako did and fulfil the Ju-on. At the same time the powers of the curse are further unleashed as its time travelling capabilities are uncovered: a victim from a past film sees her father just before he encountered Kayako himself, even though he died years before.

The next film - the final one is the Japanese franchise - sticks to this theme of rebirth, and sticks to it quite literally.

It starts with a pregnant actress who gets in a car accident caused by Toshio and miscarries.

Well, she thinks she has. A doctor does doctor stuff and discovers she is still carrying a healthy child, but this baby ain’t no normal baby. It’s Kayako.

Good luck getting on Maury with that.

It is then uncovered that she worked for a paranormal documentary TV show that visited the house haunted by the curse.

This is confirmed years later, when a young Kayako pushes her mother off an overpass and kills her. The last we see of this franchise is the young girl wandering off into the distance.

Now it’s America’s turn. Here’s a rundown of the Grudge film series:

The first film is a reboot of the Japanese Ju-On: The Grudge, but this time its horror-film-fave Sarah Michelle Gellar who is stepping up to the plate as Karen (aka Rika). But this time Buffy Karen burns the house down at the end of the film.

(Or does she?)

(Oh and here’s the trailer I’m just Oprah for trailers today:)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YC3bzK_i9_s

The sequel then follows a school girl who is pressured to enter the house by her friends a la every urban legend ever. But this time, Kayako hits the road and follows her back to Chicago, cursing her apartment. And the schoolgirl ain’t the only one struggling with spooky stuff.

When Karen falls from a hospital roof and dies, Karen’s younger sister investigates the circumstances of her death and stumbles into the legend. This time she attempts to stop the curse.

4 more films follow this movie, and all stick to the recipe of schoolgirls daring to go into the house or people being through from hospital roofs.

No, I’m being serious.

The final film prior to the latest reboot takes a different turn, however, and takes inspiration from The Ring to a whole new level. Sadako vs. Kayako is a crossover of these iconic female spirits, and climaxes in the spirits merging into the ultimate ghost: Sadakaya.

What Happens In The Grudge (2020)?

The film follows 4 different families as they encounter the curse, creating a domino effect that ties each of the stories together. The thing is, only one family actually encounters Kayako and the original haunting that made this franchise famous.

Nevertheless, in true Grudge style, Kayako possesses the mother of a family who then goes on to kill her family members.

These ghosts then begin to haunt the following inhabitants of the house and affect all those connected to it. For each story, someone either ends up in an asylum, or kills their entire family, or some chaotic cocktail of the two.

When I first heard a new Grudge was set to hit the big screen, I was honestly a bit surprised; I hadn’t heard anyone mention it!

The thing is, I only found this out last week, a whole month after it first premiered.

I was shooketh.

How had I heard f*ck all about it? Unfortunately, there’s good reason for that:

A unanimous decision has labelled this film a sequence of boring, dull, thin plots all tied together with a smile depressing aesthetic. No, the reviewers did not hold back.

"I saw this movie in the middle of the day, having had a great night's sleep, and I had to slap myself awake a few times."

Nevertheless, The Grudge (2020) does buck the trend of former films, introducing a new plot style and welcoming a new brand of paranormal activity we haven’t seen fall under the franchise just yet.

But honestly, the franchise - like all horror films - gets messy, twisting into a mop of black hair and a sound byte of a death rattle on a loop.

All you really need to know is there’s a spooky-ass house with some dead-ass people and you either die or end up in a mental hospital.

And it's not like any horror film has ever done that before, right?

But even if the films aren’t keeping you up tonight, the story it's based on should do the trick - especially considering the films portray it so damn accurately…

What’s The Urban Legend That The Films Based On?

The Grudge franchise might not go down in horror history for a dense plot chock-full of cinematic innovation, but there’s no doubt that Kayako and Toshio will.

The thing is, the characters of this iconic franchise all started as real people with real lives. Well, as real as an urban legend can make them out to be, that is.

The story goes that Kayako grew up neglected by the members of her family, retreating into her shell and becoming shy. And so, she would write diaries to keep herself company.

In one of these entries from when she was younger, she mentioned a crush.

Flash forward to years later, and she’s married with a child. Problem is, her husband, Takeo, stumbles upon one of these diaries, and believes she’s having an affair.

So, like all rational people, he decides to kill her and his son, Toshio.

How he kills her is a little confused, but we know that at some point she tries to crawl down the stairs and escape, at some point Kayako and Toshio are drowned in a bathtub, and at some point Takeo gets strangled by Kayako with her hair.

Either way they are all very dead.

But it's Kayako that returns from the afterlife as the vengeful ghost we all know and love.

And that’s because Kayako fits perfectly within Japanese folklore, and is an onryo - a vengeful ghost.

“Hold up - does that mean Sadako/Samara is one of these onryos?”

Nope - Sadako is a yurei, which you can learn all about here.

An onryo is a spirit from japanese folklore, or, more specifically, a ghost that has often been wronged by brutal men. And Kayako is far from alone in the afterlife:

Oiwa has earned her name as the most famous onryo to haunt Japanese literature, and claimed her title by being murdered by her unfaithful husband whilst she was pregnant. At first he tried poison, but she survived the attempt - it just disfigured her face and made her miscarry.

To complete the attack he pushed her off the cliff. And yes, that did the job.

Or did it?

Oiwa returned as a vengeful ghost who sought to destroy him and everyone around him.

Sound familiar?

So we know that Kayako’s story doesn’t fall too far from the urban legend inspiring the films, nor the reality of domestic abuse in society - is there anything else that is uncomfortably real about the movies?

*Nods head*

They hit the paranormal activity dead on.

(Emphasis on the dead bit.)

How Accurate Is The Paranormal Activity?

I could rattle off the movies minute by minute and explain why that door creaking is, like, totally accurate to supernatural theories. But even as a paranormal blogger, I’m not that sad.

(Yet.)

However, there are 2 key pieces of the paranormal that I wanted to explore to confirm that these films are c-ree-pily real.

1. Possession by a yurei or onryo

Most horror films tend to follow the same ‘ol trajectory:

There is ghost. Ghost does ghosty things. People are scared of ghost. Ghost possesses one of the people.

All the writers have to do is fill in the blanks.

The thing is, this only happens a couple times in this franchise, most notably in the 2020 reboot. But it got me thinking:

The whole point of Sadako and Kayako - although different kinds of spirits - is that they want to spread dread and darkness, and that at some point they simply want to be reborn to ensure their ambitions are met.

But aside from waving a rather mangled feminist flag, they don’t fill in the blanks like most horror films. Possession by onryo is supposedly possible, however, and has even been captured by a rather famous if lacking-in-detail case:

Hirotsugu possessed some bloke called Genbo way-back-when and affected his health. Yeah, that’s about it.

2. Residual hauntings

Another theory the franchise taps into is that of time travel which is known amongst paranormal fanatics like me as a residual haunting.

Also known as Stone Tape theory, this is belief that events with a high energy atmosphere can imprint onto the surroundings like rocks, objects, furniture, and maybe even houses.

Ever heard of Borley Rectory? What about Bethnal Green Underground?

These are just a few cases of residual hauntings from which these events are replayed in a haunting fashion.

The 13 Other Japanese Urban Legends That Should Make You Avoid Visiting Asia In The Near Future In Case You Encounter The Slit-Mouthed Woman

Trips to Tokyo, breakfast under sweeps of cherry blossom trees, walks around the temples of Kyoto.

Japan knows how to showcase its culture.

But your next trip to this island in the Pacific might leave you a little more terrified than tourist. And given the size of the island, I don’t think you can hop on a tram without bumping elbows with some legend conjured up from the darkest recesses of the web.

In that case, grab your fanny pack and chuck your passport in the hotel safe - let’s find us an urban legend!

#1 - Aka Manto // Red Cloak

Our first legend haunts toilets. No, I’m not kidding. He’s not even the only Japanese urban legend that specifically haunts the bogs!

This urban legend reportedly haunts the last stall in bathrooms and is cloaked in a red cape.

The story goes that, whilst your mid-shit, he will offer you red or blue toilet paper. Whichever one you pick decides on how you die. If he offers you yellow, however, he will just shove your head down the shitter.

To avoid either of those fates, don’t pick any toilet paper. Just ignore, and escape.

Drip dry; don’t die.

#2 - Hanasako-san // Hanako Of The Toilet

Our next bathroom related urban legend is clearly much more explicit about her haunting, but bears a striking resemblance to her male counterpart.

With pale skin and a red uniform, she hides in the 3rd bathroom stall, but doesn’t offer you any TP.

Instead, you should knock on the stall door 3 times, ask if she’s there, and wait for her to whisper and confirm her presence. Well, that or she’ll stay silent which is really helpful.

Anyway, once you’ve alerted her that you’re there, she will straight up drag you to hell.

Okay, fine, the legend sounds simplistic - I mean, you do just go to hell - but her backstory is slightly more imaginative. There’s actually 2 potential tales that explain her haunting:

The first is that he hid in the bathroom during a bombing in WW2 and the building collapsed around her; or she was bullied and committed suicide in the bathroom.

(I mean, I don’t know what you expected, its an urban legend, okurr, shits gon’ be depressing.)

#3 - Jinmenken // Human-Faced Dog

Let’s lighten things up, shall we? I think a comedic dog with the face of a human which is popularly spotted by surfers mid-joint should do the trick...

Jinmenken are dogs with human faces often seen in urban areas. Not only can they talk, they can also be rude - and specifically homophobic - according to some reports.

The most popular sightings can be traced back to surfers in the 1950s, but the most famous tale can be found in 1810 from which one was supposedly exhibited at a museum.

Gnarly, bro.

#4 - The Cursed Kleenex Advert

This urban legend has already featured in one of my posts as an iconic cursed video, but here’s the lowdown for people that don’t waste their time looking this up:

A Kleenex advert was released in the 1980s in Japan and featured some rather odd goings-on.

There was a baby painted red like an ogre and sitting on a bed of straw, there was german music singing ‘die’ repeatedly, and there was the sudden deaths or spiralling of all of the film crew and actors into mental health crises.

You know, the usual marketing campaign.

Oh, and I nearly forgot - everyone that watched it had sudden suicidal thoughts!

It was quickly pulled from air due to complaints, and is now known simply as an urban legend.

*mysterious pipe music plays in the distance*

#5 - Kuchisake-onna // The Slit-Mouthed Woman

Equally as famous as Kleenex firing most of their TV advertising department (before they all died, anyway) is the slit-mouthed woman, an onryo just like the main characters of The Grudge.

A woman (gasp) supposedly wanders the streets of Japan, and, in the dark of the night, wanders up to those walking alone.

She then asks them how she looks.

If you react with disgust, she will kill you via the scissors she just so happens to have on her. If you react positively and clearly think she's beautiful, she will smile weirdly at you, revealing the slits giving her a permanent smile and repeat the question. If you compliment her, she will give you the same cuts that have slit open a permanent smile.

If you say she looks average or distract her with food or sweets you will be free to go.

And the moral of this story?

We are all beautiful in our own way. Also pls don’t kill me.

#6 - Benzaiten’s Curse

Benzaiten is the goddess of everything that flows: time, water, knowledge, the linings of my womb from my nether-regions every 5 weeks.

But, as made clear by the latter, she isn’t necessarily a positive force. Let’s say you take your partner to the Imokashira pond for a romantic row across the river. As the pond and the park containing it are full of her shrines, for some reason she takes delight in ending relationships.

Jealous of the happy couples enjoying the peace of the park, she curses them, leaving them to split down the middle.

Mwahaha?

#7 - Kunekune // Wriggling Body

There’s no backstory, there’s no explanation, and there’s no evidence of the kunekunes. But this doesn’t stop this story being perhaps the most chilling to haunt this blog.

Kunekunes are slender white figures that stand tall on fields, lingering in the distance.

Get too close? You go insane.

Touch one? You dead.

It is believed that this legend could be linked to claims of scarecrows coming to life at night or if you stare at them too long, but regardless of where it evolved from, this shizz be spooky.

#8 - Teke Teke

Got any more room for another onryo? Good. ‘Cause this one involves a woman who was sliced in half by a train.

Having fallen on a railway and lost her legs to the accident, it is claimed she drags her torso along with her arms, her elbows making the noise titling the legend.

Don’t fancy an encounter with her? Stay away from urban areas. But if she does happen to, uhh, bump into you, here’s what you have to do to avoid your legs being scythed off.

(Actually, sorry to interrupt - how in the hell does she do that like surely a scythe is a long boi and like shes only got her arms as her height so how does this work)

She will ask you where her legs are and you either have to tell her that they are on the Meichin Railway or say in perfect Japanese “mask death demon”.

And no, I don’t think she allows you time to pull up Google Translate.

Oh, and I also just found out that anyone that learns of her story will encounter her within one month. Soz.

#9 - Kāneru Sandāsu no Noroi // The Curse Of The Colonel

Honestly, this be a fucking meme. Like this is hilarious.

This is why I started this blog: for ghosts, for horror films, and for curses relating to fast food restaurants.

The story goes that in 1985 the Hanshin Tigers basketball team won the Japan Championship series. On the night they won, a statue of Colonel Sanders - yep, the KFC guy - was thrown into a river.

Since 1985 they haven’t won the series, something that has been attributed to the bad luck from the statue still being in the river.

In 2009, they began to recover their lucky charm, and all they need now is to find a hand and his glasses.

#10 - Cow Head

Sure, this urban legend might not have a descriptive title, but it is probably the most perplexing. Heck, there are even two stories behind it, both of which I assume are related.

The first claims that a teacher once told his students a story of ‘Cow Head’. They all began to experience strange symptoms over the following days, from seizure-like shaking to their eventual deaths. This slow demise is traced to the story, but only fragments are available to find.

(And, because I’m only gonna let you be haunted by teke teke, I thought I’d let you find that one out for yourself cause I’m nice and also scared.)

The other side of the story goes a little something like this:

A town is cursed after they eat the head of a cow.

Yeah, that's the end of the story.

Or maybe the urban legend is from Ukrainian folklore? A woman received good fortune after offering shelter to a disembodied cow head.

#11 - Kokkuri

This is a classic: it's basically a Japanese ouija board.

A favourite among high school students searching for a quick buzz, all this requires is someone that can write out hangara symbols and someone else willing to cough up a coin.

And all you have to do is ask kokkuri-san a question. Well, the question might go unanswered - they can only tell you of your death.

If you do so happen to stumble into a sesh, make sure you say goodbye to kokkuri-san, spend the coin she used to point out the answer, and use us all the ink from the pen used to draw the symbols.

Other than that, you’re good to find out when you’ll meet the Grim Reaper!

#12 - Kisaragi Station

This one’s fresh from the new age of the urban legend.

It’s 2002, and we are probably on some dodgy 4-chan-before-4-chan website.

The story is pretty simple, and claims there is a railway station that is unmarked on maps which someone has reportedly visited. This unmanned station is spook central, with the name of the station roughly translating to ‘demon station’.

The original story claimed a commuter train which normally frequently stopped took a different route and only a few other passengers - all fast asleep - were on board.

No taxis, no buildings, no guards, no timetables…

All aboard the not-sleeping-ever-again train!

#13 - Hasshaku-sama

Similar to the urban legend previously described, this is ripped fresh from the early days of the web.

It is claimed that a woman towering over 2 metres tall attempts to lure young people into the arms of death, mimicking the voices of their family members. Or, in more simple terms, if she likes you, you gon’ die.

The story attempts to explain her backstory, claiming she might be a divine spirit, or that she is attached to a village the protagonist of the urban legend must escape to avoid her powers.

Who Else Ain’t Sleeping Tonight?

(Or taking a bath/shower/going into the bathroom ever again?)

And which urban legend traumatised you the most?

Why not fall further down the rabbit hole and check out my other articles exploring the reality behind your fave horror flicks?

And while you’re there, be sure to hit follow to see a new ghost story everyday.

(Also this is now you trying to live life but now thinking about the urban legends I told you about lol c ya byeeeeeee)

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carolinesiede · 3 years

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Reflecting on 2020

The strangest thing about 2020 was how familiar much of it felt: Working from home, extended periods of isolation, weeks and months blending together. To a much lesser degree, those are things I experience each year as a freelancer. And while I suspect it will take awhile before the full extent of the trauma we’ve all lived through this year fully sets in, right now I’m mostly focused on gratitude. I’m grateful for the health of my loved ones. Grateful I already had a work-from-home routine to maintain during the pandemic. And grateful that I was able to quarantine with my family for much of the year—which had its challenges but also its rewards too.

In my 2019 year-end post I wrote about feeling like my career was finally on an upward trajectory after several years of plateauing. This year obviously offered some new wrinkles in that regard. I made significantly less money and felt familiar fears about how sustainable this career actually is. But having less work also gave me more time to focus on the actual craft of writing. I feel like I reached a new level in terms of voice, clarity, and the ability to self-edit. I'm the sort of person who constantly (arguably, obsessively) strives to be better, and it’s rewarding to feel like that hard work is finally slowly starting to pay off.

In addition to devoting my quarantine time to mastering a favorite curry recipe, getting really into the Enneagram, finally learning to French braid hair, and rewatching all of New Girl, I also had some really cool opportunities scattered throughout the year. I interviewed John Barrowman about his surprise return to Doctor Who, which felt like a real milestone for me. I also contributed to the Los Angeles Times’ list of TV shows to binge-watch during quarantine, which appeared both online and in print. And thanks to everything going virtual this year, I was able to attend a press panel for the fifth season of This Is Us, which is the sort of thing I’m not usually able to do as a Chicago-based critic.

My career is always a juggling act between film and TV, and this year made me appreciate how valuable it is to be able to move seamlessly between both worlds. I took on new TV assignments covering the first season of Stargirl and the second season of The Umbrella Academy, both of which were a blast to write about. And while I didn’t watch quite as many films as I did in my insane catch-up year last year, I did fill in some more major blindspots. I also contributed to The A.V. Club’s list of the best films of 2000 and shared my own ballot over on Letterboxd. Oh, and I set up a Letterboxd this year too!

Elsewhere, I made my debut on Bustle and The Takeout, and ended the year with a Polygon article about “Kind Movies” that pretty much sums up my entire ethos on storytelling. I was also named a Top Critic by Rotten Tomatoes, which was a real honor. But the pride and joy of my career remains my rom-com column, When Romance Met Comedy. I devoted a whopping 49,000 words to analyzing 25 different romantic comedies this year. And I’m really pleased with how the column has grown and with the positive feedback I’ve received.

I have to admit, I sometimes worry that year-end highlight reels like this one can make my life seem easy or glamorous in a way that doesn’t reflect what it’s like to actually live through it. I'm tremendously lucky to get to do what I do, but I also struggle a lot—both with the logistics of this career and with bigger questions about what value it brings to the world. My goal is to approach 2021 with a greater sense of intentionality. I want to be more thoughtful in my career choices, more purposeful in how I use social media, and more active in my activism and politics. I’d also like to do 20 push-ups a day everyday for the whole year, but we’ll see how long that resolution actually lasts.

Finally, on a sadder note, one other defining experience of the year was the loss of my dear internet friend Seb Patrick, who I’ve known for years through the Cinematic Universe podcast. Seb created a wonderfully positive nerd space online, and was a big part of my early quarantine experience thanks to the Avengers watchalongs I did with the CU gang in the spring. I’m so grateful for all the fun pop culture chats we got to have throughout the years, several of which are linked below. Seb is tremendously missed, and there’s a fund for his family here.

As we head into 2021, I’ll leave you with wishes for a Happy New Year and a roundup of all the major writing and podcasts I did in 2020. If you enjoyed my work, you can support me on Kofi or PayPal. Or you can just share some of your favorite pieces with your friends! That really means a lot.

My 15 favorite films of 2020

My 15 favorite TV shows of 2020

Op-eds, Features, and Interviews

Women Pioneered The Film Industry 100 Years Ago. Why Aren’t We Talking About Them? [Bustle]

2020 is the year of the Kind Movie — and it couldn’t have come at a better time [Polygon]

Make a grocery store game plan for stress-free shopping [The Takeout]

What’s Going On: A primer on the call to defund the police [Medium]

Doctor Who’s John Barrowman on the return of Captain Jack Harkness [The A.V. Club]

Episodic TV Coverage

Doctor Who S12

This Is Us S4 and S5

Supergirl S5

Stargirl S1

The Umbrella Academy S2

The Crown S4

NBC’s Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch Musical!

When Romance Met Comedy

Is The Ugly Truth the worst romantic comedy ever made?

Working Girl’s message is timeless, even if the hair and the shoulder pads aren’t

You’ve Got Mail and the power of the written (well, typed) word

Love & Basketball was a romantic slam dunk

How did My Big Fat Greek Wedding make so much money?

America eased into the ’60s with the bedroom comedies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson

I can’t stop watching Made Of Honor

Notting Hill brought two rom-com titans together

It’s time to rediscover one of Denzel Washington’s loveliest and most under-seen romances

Something’s Gotta Give is the ultimate quarantine rom-com

20 years ago, But I’m A Cheerleader reclaimed camp for queer women

On its 60th anniversary, Billy Wilder’s The Apartment looks like an indictment of toxic masculinity

The Wedding Planner made rom-com stars out of Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey

After 25 years, Clueless is still our cleverest Jane Austen adaptation

William Shakespeare invented every romantic comedy trope we love today

Edward Norton made his directorial debut by walking a priest, a rabbi, and a Dharma into a Y2K rom-com

The forgotten 1970s romantic comedy that raged against our broken, racist system

His Girl Friday redefined the screwball comedy at 240 words per minute

Before Wonder Woman soared into theaters, the hacky My Super Ex-Girlfriend plummeted to Earth

Dirty Dancing spoke its conscience with its hips

The rise of Practical Magic as a spooky season classic

In a dire decade for the genre, Queen Latifah became a new kind of rom-com star

Years before Elsa and Anna, Tangled reinvigorated the Disney princess tradition

Palm Springs is the definitive 2020 rom-com

Celebrate Christmas with the subversive 1940s rom-com that turned gender roles on their head

The A.V. Club Film & TV Reviews

Netflix’s To All The Boys sequel charms, though not quite as much as the original

The Photograph only occasionally snaps into focus

Jane Austen's Emma gets an oddball, sumptuous, and smart new adaptation

Pete Davidson delivers small-time charms in Big Time Adolescence

Council Of Dads crams a season of schmaltzy storytelling into its premiere

In Belgravia, Downton Abbey’s creator emulates Dickens to limited success

Netflix’s Love Wedding Repeat adds some cringe to the rom-com

Netflix takes another shot at Cyrano de Bergerac with queer love triangle The Half Of It

We Are Freestyle Love Supreme is a feel-good origin story for Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first troupe

Sara Bareilles’ melodic Apple TV+ series Little Voice is still finding itself

Netflix’s sexist rom-com sensation gets a minor upgrade in The Kissing Booth 2

With Howard, Disney+ movingly honors the lyricist who gave the Little Mermaid her voice

The Broken Hearts Gallery tries to find catharsis in heartbreak

Netflix’s ghostly musical series Julie And The Phantoms hits some charming tween high notes

After We Collided slides toward R-rated camp—but not far enough

Holidate is a bawdy start to Netflix’s holiday rom-com slate

Kristen Stewart celebrates the Happiest Season in a pioneering queer Christmas rom-com

Isla Fisher gets her own Enchanted in the Disney Plus fairy tale Godmothered

Podcast Appearances

Debating Doctor Who: “Orphan 55”

It Pod To Be You: The Wedding Singer

Reality Bomb: Defending Doctor Who’s “Closing Time”

The Televerse: Spotlight on Doctor Who Season 12

You Should See The Other Guy: The Ugly Truth

Only Stupid Answers: Stargirl’s season finale

Motherfoclóir: Ireland and the Hollywood Rom-Com

Called in to Nerdette’s Clueless retrospective episode

Cinematic Universe Appearances

Cinematic Universe: Superman IV: The Quest For Peace

Cinematic Universe: Birds of Prey

Cinematic Universe: Infinity War watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Endgame watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Terminator 2

Cinematic Universe: Josie and the Pussycats

Cinematic Universe: The Cuppies 2020 (Cuppies of Cuppies)

And here are similar year-end wrap-ups I did in 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013.

#Best Of #Year End #2020

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littlemisswolfie · 4 years

Text

it’s really not that fair

Part four of this bullshit. Here we go.

Bella worries at her bottom lip with her teeth and taps her pencil on the hard plastic desk. A few of her classmates glare at her and she knows she’s being annoying, but it’s Friday, and that means Leah’s picking her up from school.

That is, if the damn clock will ever move.

It’s a little ridiculous, how much Bella misses her. She’d snuck into Bella’s room the night before (just like she had every night since the imprint) and woken her up with a soft kiss before she left this morning, so it’s been at most, like, nine hours. But it still feels like a little part of Bella is missing, and there’s a tug in her chest that goes towards LaPush, towards Leah.

From what the pack can tell, Victoria’s backed off since she realized Bella was under their protection. This suits Bella just fine, because she has enough on her plate, what with graduation coming up, with the imprint, with Leah. She’s just glad she already has her college situation figured out.

Neither Charlie nor Renee were thrilled with her decision to take classes online, but it’s for the best. Her GPA suffered a major hit when she was so depressed, after all, and most places she could have applied to were already closed to applications when she was suddenly reminded of her steadily approaching graduation date a few weeks ago. Her other reason, which had gone unspoken to her parents, is Leah.

Bella knows it’s generally a bad idea to base one’s college decisions around their significant other, but the imprint complicates things. She’s sure she could go away, but it would be painful, both for her and for Leah. And there’s no way Leah could come with her due to tribal issues; her status as a protector to the tribe overrules any other obligations she has. Sam could let her go, but he’s not in any position to go against Old Quil and Billy.

So Leah has to stay. And so Bella will, too.

The bell finally, finally rings, and Bella gathers up her books and shoves them in her backpack as quickly as she can. Her body thrums, and she knows it’s because Leah is in the parking lot, waiting for her.

In the desk next to her, Angela laughs. “What’re you in such a rush for, Bella?” she asks, a teasing note in her voice. “You got a hot date or something?”

Bella freezes.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say no--Bella can’t imagine anyone calling a pack dinner a hot date, unless their idea of a hot date is holding hands with their significant other while half a dozen half naked teenage boys inhale food like they’re never going to eat again.

But on the other hand, she can’t say the whole thing isn’t romantic. This past week, Bella felt like she was dying the longer she spent away from Leah. Leah is like oxygen, like a cool drink of water on a brutal Phoenix day, like coming home. At no point will Leah ever not be the most important part of her life. Not anymore.

But how can she express that to Angela? Bella hardly understands the intense connection afforded by the imprint herself. And with the added... everything surrounding same sex relationships...

Yeah. No. Bella’s not ready to tackle that yet.

So she gives Angela a smile she hopes isn’t too tight around the edges and says, “That’s a secret.”

While she wants nothing more than to run into Leah’s arms when she sees her leaning against her red truck, Bella, mindful of her schoolmates’ stares, settles for a faster-than-normal walk and a hug that’s just a tad too long to be platonic. She feels and hears Leah taking a deep inhale of her hair. Bella can’t imagine how hard this time apart has been for her--from what she can tell, the imprint is a stronger pull for the wolf.

“Hey,” Bella says when they separate.

“Hey,” Leah replies. She hoists Bella’s backpack onto her own shoulder and holds her hand out for Bella’s keys. “Do you need to go home before we go to the Rez?”

Bella hands over the keys and nods. “I wanna drop off my books and grab some extra clothes.” At Leah’s arched eyebrow, she flushes and adds, “I-in case I’m too tired to drive home!”

“Sure, sure,” Leah says, unapologetically stealing Jake’s catchphrase.

They climb into the cab of the truck, and they don’t touch again until they’re a mile away from the school.

Bella’s heart aches.

It’s easier at LaPush.

There, everyone knows about them. There’s no pretenses, no excuses, no hiding. It’s just Leah and Bella, and they’re together, and no one minds, just like no one minds Sam and Emily, or Jared and Kim.

After the ravenous pack dinner, everyone retires to Emily’s living room, and Bella once again ends up perched in Leah’s lap, and she relaxes against her shoulder while the pack talks shop. Emily and Sam are sharing the big living chair Sam usually occupies, fingers intertwined, and Kim is sitting cross-legged on the floor with Jared’s head in her lap. It’s a testament to the power of the imprint that none of the other guys comment on the couples’ obvious closeness. With any other group of friends, Bella thinks, there’d be immediate teasing.

After a confirmation that Victoria hasn’t been seen around the Rez either, things become much less formal. Emily whips up a new muffin recipe for Bella and Kim to try, “because the pack will eat anything, I can’t trust their opinion on my food, I need an outsider’s voice.” The pack takes advantage of the semi-warm day and starts roughhousing outside, shouting and tackling and just having fun. It warms Bella’s heart to see Leah and Sam being so friendly with each other now, without the pain of Sam’s imprint lingering over them.

“I wish it could always be like this,” Bella says around a mouthful of cranberry orange muffin. It’s delicious, of course. Bella can cook, sure, but Emily’s the expert baker around here. “No teenage angst, no Victoria hanging over us, no hiding...”

“Hiding?”

Bella blushes when she realizes she’s spoken aloud. “Uh...”

“No, no,” Kim says, persisting. “What do you mean, hiding?”

“It’s just...” Bella has to pause for a second, and takes another bite of her muffin to stall. “I don’t know how to explain what I have with Leah to the people in Forks. So I figure, hey, maybe I’ll just let them think we’re good friends, but then Charlie will say something like, ‘I’m so glad you have a friend like Leah,’ or my friends at school will tease me about dating, and I just wanna scream, you know?”

Emily makes a comforting sound in the back of her throat and lays a hand on Bella’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. Like living a double life, right?”

“Yeah.”

Kim leans up against Bella’s shoulder in a show of sisterly support. Because that’s what she and Emily are--Bella’s sisters. Not like Alice, who wanted to use Bella as a living dress up doll, or Rosalie, who seemed to hate the fact that she even existed, but actual, genuine love. In being imprinted on by Leah, she got not only her soulmate, but an entire family of support.

“Buck up, Bella,” Kim says, giving her arm a little hug. “Things’ll get better when you move out here.”

“What?” Move out here? Bella didn’t realize that was part of her future plans already.

Kim cocks her head. “Aren’t you, though? Leah says you’re just taking online classes, so there’s no school commute to think about. And as far as the council is concerned, you being an imprint makes you pack, and being pack means you’re tribe. You have every right to live here.”

“Kim,” says Emily, a warning on her tongue, but Bella cuts her off.

“It’s fine, Em. It’s just not something I’ve thought too much about, is all.”

Her eyes seek out Leah in the dog pile of pack, and when she sees Leah’s smile, everything seems okay.

“What was bothering you earlier?” Leah asks, later, when they’re lying in Leah’s bed with their legs tangled together.

Bella starts. “You knew?”

“I wasn’t trying to listen, but I could tell you were upset.” One of her hands comes up to comb through Bella’s hair. “Talk to me.”

Bella sighs and snuggles closer to Bella’s reassuring heat. “I don’t like having to pretend we’re not together when I’m not on the Rez,” she says, voice soft. It’s harder to say this to Leah than it was to Emily and Kim earlier. “I hate it whenever someone calls you my friend, because you’re so much more than that, and I want to tell everyone how much you mean to me, but I have no idea how to.”

Leah grunts. “I wish I could make it better for you.”

“Not your fault.” Bella yawns. “When I told Kim and Emily earlier, Kim said I should just move to the Rez after I graduate.”

Bella feels Leah’s whole body stiffen. “Really?” She’s trying to sound nonchalant, but Bella can hear the excitement in her voice.

“Really.” She reaches up to stroke her thumb along Leah’s cheekbone. “Is that... something you’d like?”

“Absolutely,” Leah says, with no hesitation, not even a little bit. Her lips, chapped and warm, press against Bella’s forehead. “I want you forever. I want your good mornings and your good nights. I want your bedhead and your morning breath, and I want your hair clogging up the drains, and I want to hear you humming in the kitchen while you cook and see you biting you lip while you read before bed. I want everything, Bella. Everything you’re willing to give me.”

Bella feels her eyes grow warm. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, that after less than a week of dating she feels ready to commit. But she wants. She wants so badly to be Leah’s forever, for Leah to be hers.

“I’m willing,” she says, not even embarrassed at the way her voice cracks with emotion, “to give you forever, if you promise me the same.”

And so they talk, long into the night, about a little house by the cliffs, of a built-in bookshelf in the bedroom by Bella’s side of the bed and a kitchen with an island and a big living room so the pack can come over, and they don’t fall asleep until the sun is peeking over the horizon.

“One day,” Bella says, just before she drifts off, “I’ll be able to tell the whole world, ‘I love Leah Clearwater,’ and no one will be able to do anything about it.”

Sleep claims her before she feels Leah go stiff, and before she realizes that this is the first time she’s spoken about love.

Before she can hear Leah say, “I love you, too.”

#twilight #leah clearwater #bella swan #leah/bella #bella/leah #my writing #my post #mine

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blurhawaii · 4 years

Text

yuletide 2020

dear yuletide writer,

hello and happy yuletide! i’m pretty sure my letters get longer and longer every year and yet i’m still terrible at putting what i like into words. just know that the prompts are just suggestions--if you’ve got something else in mind, go for it. and sorry this is so disjointed.

likes:

dysfunctional relationships eg. codependency, messed up father/son dynamics, enemies to lovers, power imbalances.

vulnerability in men, uncertain intimacy.

UST, slow burn, first times.

magical realism/cosmic horror. weird hints of it in an otherwise normal universe.

redemption arcs.

found family.

big loyalty kink. love it when trust is earned and kept.

praise kink.

open and honest communication between partners.

polyamory. it’s the journey of them getting together and making it work that interests me the most. or how a couple goes about bringing in a third person.

stories set in canon. or a divergence of canon. fix-it fics.

dark/bleak fics. don’t be afraid to drag characters through the mud. happy endings are welcome but i like the struggle.

i’m fine with anything from gen to porn but would be happiest with something in the middle.

canon typical violence is fine and to be expected from some of my choices.

characters and their relationships are more important than plot for me.

dislikes:

AUs that are completely disconnected from canon e.g. high school, coffee shop AUs.

established relationships

crossovers

genderbending

feminisation of male characters

fics that are entirely fluff

A/B/O fics

PWP

mpreg

first person fics (i have no problem with second person fics tho if you think that could work.)

The Departed (2006) *Billy Costigan *Sean Dignam

one of my favourite films ever. i request it every year so you can't really go wrong with this as i'm just thirsty for anything.

most of my love is for dignam and his tough love attitude towards his job and the undercovers he's responsible for. i am endlessly endeared by his wild card quality, expletive fueled speech and hair trigger temperament. the father/son relationship with queenan that’s contrasted against billy’s father/son relationship with queenan. his complete disregard for everyone else in that office, especially sullivan. and how despite all of that, it's obvious that he cares. i don't think you could do a job like that and not care, and it’s those few and rare moments where we see him soften around billy --we need you, pal-- that's what i would like to see more of. that juxtaposition of good cop/bad cop coming from the same guy. shipping fic is preferred but whatever you are comfortable with is fine. due to the nature of the film i am perfectly comfortable with violence and the screwed up relationship they are bound to have. the friction born of the situation vs the fact that they need each other to get through this is what i am all about.

things that really get me with these two: codependency, power imbalances, the enemies to lovers trope, vulnerability, the whole constructing intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men thing they have going on, as seen in the gif above.

fics where billy survives are my usual go-to. i'd love something that explores the angst of billy's ‘where the hell were you when i needed you’ reaction towards dignam following queenan’s death all the way up to the ending, and beyond that assuming billy lives.

i’ve spent far too much time thinking about the line --why don’t we just meet up, sweetheart, let me buy you an ice cream. the jokey seriousness of it just kills me. if you can somehow write that happening in a believable, in character fic you would earn my eternal respect. whether that’s a clandestine meeting during billy’s undercover period or some kind of post-film scenario where dignam makes good on his promises, i have no idea.

daemon au - very curious how this would impact going undercover. daemons expressing feelings that the characters otherwise can’t. the intimacy of touching/comforting each other’s daemons.

soulmate au - either having their names on each other or their first words. this is admittedly a longshot but interests me for the same reason the daemon au does, because i’d love to see how this would work in a universe where you’re undercover.

time loop/groundhog day fic where things go better. or worse, i guess.

Godless (TV 2017)

*Roy Goode *Bill McNue *Alice Fletcher

i’m a massive fan of westerns. the harsh way of life, the violence, the isolation, drawn out revenge plots, the murkiness of good vs evil or sheriff vs anti-hero, the importance of honour and heroism and how that differs for men and women, especially in this universe and its town full of widows. having said all that, i’m still very much a sucker for cool cowboys in a shallow female way.

my favourite thing to do is turn every love triangle into an ot3. so i’d love a fic post canon where roy comes back once he realises his found family is just as important as his real family. i imagine bill would try to do the gentlemanly thing of bowing out and letting roy and alice be together but i’d love for alice to have the agency of choice, getting to have her cake and eating it too by choosing both roy and bill. however you jigsaw them together my main thing here is that i don’t want bill to get left out.

i feel the roy/bill aspect in particular could be explored a lot more. i love the earned mutual respect and how easily they move around each other during the gunfight at the end. (bill’s deteriorating eyesight side plot fascinates me, how it goes with his loss of purpose and comes back when teaming up with roy to defend the town.) the usual ideas of western masculinity get all twisted around when roy and bill are in the presence of alice and they both seem kind of subby towards her, which yes please. the way alice kisses the scar she gave roy and the fact that he simply lets her is *chef kiss*

i’m actually very okay with letting them be soft with each other after all of their tragedy.

honest communication between partners could work wonders here.

Locke (2013)

*Ivan Locke *Donal

i honestly think this film is an underappreciated masterpiece. a hour and a half long car ride that's totally compelling, and it's all down to tom hardy and his welsh accent that's not even welsh. of all the relationships broken down, strengthened, or tentatively started, it's the one between ivan and donal that interests me the most. you're given just enough background to know there is a history between these two. whether donal is his right hand man on the project or is just an assistant that effectively gets promoted because he's the only one still there willing to take ivan's call. either way, there's trust there, on top of the shared knowledge of donal's capacity to get drunk on the job --this has clearly been a problem before-- but ivan still trusts him enough to get his baby of a building built when he can't be there personally, and that fascinates me.

the film ends very much in a lurch and i can't bring myself to see the ending in a positive light. a baby with a woman he doesn't particular like is not a recipe for a fresh start and i honestly can't see ivan not following up on the progress of his building.

i have this image of ivan sleeping on donal's couch because his wife won't take him back, bethan realises she just wants the baby and not him, he's lost his job and he has nowhere else to go and so he's just backseat driving this buildings construction through donal’s position. you've got this man who's lost everything and an alcoholic just wallowing together, maybe clinging to the idea that with this buildings success, they can fix themselves.

i also ship it and if you manage to take it in that direction i would be totally into that too. i guess i'm just looking for something post film with these two.

i don't know anything about concrete farming tho so feel free to fudge that as much as you need to.

The Boys (TV 2019)

*Billy Butcher *Homelander

what i like about this show is that it’s dark, it’s violent and the relationships between the characters are about as fucked up and convoluted as you can get. i am specifically interested in the relationship between billy and homelander and how the power is constantly shifting. i’d love something that just takes into account every horrible reason why they want to kill each but also all the reasons why they haven’t. ship fic is more than welcome.

details that interest me the most:

all the bizarre family dynamics - their shared bad relationships with their fathers. loved the scene where billy learns about homelander’s childhood and how that tiny humanising moment might affect his view of the man. especially in season 2 where we see them both interacting with ryan. love the inverse of homelander trying to be a good dad and billy wanting absolutely nothing to do with the kid. i wish we could have seen more of the dynamic immediately following the cliffhanger at the end of season 1. what happened between that moment and billy waking up somewhere else. maybe some kind of bizarre hostage situation family in this small suburban home.

i am fascinated by the idea of having the buffer of both becca and ryan between them. not being able to kill each other at the end of season 1 because of the deal becca made, and then again at the end of season 2 with homelander not wanting to be seen as a villain in front of ryan. maybe billy doesn’t ship ryan off at the end of season 2. maybe he thinks he can keep him safest by raising him himself and you get this weird co-dadding situation where the kid is the only thing keeping them from killing each other.

the public cleaning of the slate post-season 2 with billy not being a wanted man any more and homelander having to appear as a united front with the seven. would love something with billy pushing things in public because homelander can’t do anything about it.

homelander’s desperation to be loved. the potential of obsessive one sided relationships.

thank you writer and best of luck.

#yuletide #yuletide 2020

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brooklynislandgirl · 5 years

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Beth and UARF!Billy

All Hands || -

who wakes up first in the morning

He’s still asleep by the time she makes her way into his office with a small pile of reports from Dr Gates. Mostly because he’d been up until dawn watching the weather patterns out on the open water. She knows because she dragged her board out before the last stars faded into obscurity so that she could catch a few waves before proper sun-up. Sometimes when he sits on the docks with his laptop beside him, staring out at the sea, she swears he looks like he’s dying on the inside.Maybe he is. She would, if she couldn’t go out into the ocean.

who’s the first to fall asleep at night

And he’s still working when she leaves the actual facility a little behind the rest of the crew. There’s a get together over at John’s cottage, and they’re making plans on taking a cutter over to the Big Island for their days off, a rarity at the aquarium. But as much fun as everyone is having, it’s too loud. Too drunk. Too everything for comfort and she finds herself cleverly making off with a plate of appetisers no one is going to miss, and some cokes…because Billy doesn’t drink. Which was why they stopped inviting him.

By the time she makes it back to him with her ill-gotten gains, he’s all bent back and head bowed over his laptop. There’s not a single naked person on the screen; he’s editing video for a virtual symposium on seal reclamation. He barely acknowledges her presence except to mutter something under his breath.And much to her surprise, two quiet hours later, he gestures to the only thing that’s changed; a couch unearthed from the Miocene Graduate School epoch of random texts. There’s what looks suspiciously like a doggie blanket draped on one end, and a pillow that doesn’t match anything, anywhere in the universe.What else can she do but curl into a ball and nap?

what they playfully tease each other over

“Doctah Manderly, can you please pass the salt?”“Doctor Riley, have you double checked your figures? Random unsubstantiated facts…”“Doctah Manderly, not da salt I was aksin’ for.”“Perhaps you should have been more clear, Doctor Riley.”

John can’t roll his eyes any harder. “For fucksake, can you just pass her the condiment tray already?”They glance at each other. He’s almost smiling.

It’s going to be a good day.She never does get the salt, though.

what they do when the other’s having a bad day

It’s unusual not to find him with the seals. It’s even more so to have Annie come trotting up to her, teeth tugging at Beth’s skirts gently. By the time they get back to Billy’s office ~never his…parent’s bungalo, she’s noticed~ he’s curled up on the floor, arms and legs tucked as close to his torso as possible. Eyes squeezed shut. All the lights off until the darkness is a living, breathing thing.Not even his laptop is on.She can see from the sliver of light that penetrates the gloom from the open door that his bottle of tablets is laying on its side on his desk, and he tried to give himself a dose of Keppra. The groan directs her attention back to him and she quickly comes inside, Annie at her vanguard, and closes the door.In the silence she picks her way to him and slides down the front of the couch so she’s sitting next to him. Carefully she cushions his head in her lap and starts rubbing small circles between the atlas and axis of his c-spine. She can’t make his migraines go away, she can’t do anything about the seizures, but she can certainly offer what little comfort she can.

how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments

“Wot’s’ee sayin’?” John asks.Ben narrows his eyes and focuses on Billy’s face. A minute later, the whippet-thin groundskeeper shakes his head and shrugs. Which invariably annoys Silver to no end. The blow out last night had been legendary in its own quiet way.Manderly had stood her up. The celebration of her first article co-chaired with Gates, and Tall-Blonde-And-Anti-social couldn’t be assed to show for the cocktail party and the grant announcement. Flint had slipped out and turned back up empty handed and Miranda…had the pinched face of disappointment twinned with worry.

The rest of the crew had taken bets on exactly how upset Hurricane-Beth had been and what kind of fresh hell Manderly had in-store for him. Silver had a hundred bucks riding on the outcome.~*~“In short… it was unavoidable, and maybe in the future, I could be given more than a day’s notice.”“Yeah, okay.”“You…keep saying that. But I don’t quite believe you.”“Okay.”“Doctor Ri–Eliza—Beth. Would you please look at me?”

“Why?”“Because I’m trying to apologise and it’s very disconcerting having to stare down at you.”“And I’m tryin’a read.”

“And I’m trying to apologise.”“Thank you, William. Apology accepted.”Billy throws his hands in the air and wanders off.

which one’s more ticklish

His hands are warm. They are wide-palmed but slender. Long, clever fingers, tapered at the tip. And they are evil. In one of his rare appearances, Billy is joining the pool party. Sits on the edge of her deck chair. In moving her feet so he didn’t crush them, he absolutely noticed the flinch when his thumb graced the line of her in-step. He tries it again and is rewarded with the most unladylike snort in the whole course of human history. She squirms and writhes and the more she does, the firmer his grip becomes because she doesn’t get to escape, and he’s not about to let her kick him.

Her feet are ticklish.He skims his way a little higher, intent on trying for her knees, now that her legs are laid across his lap. She jerks again. This time though there’s no laughter behind it. As soon as his fingers glide over the scar-tissue she bolts upright. Adjusts the wrap so it covers her from the waist down, over her bikini. The gaze she throws his way is full of hurt and full of malice before she stalks off.He mutters under his breath because once more he’s managed to much things up. There ought to be a precisely indexed and double-spaced codex somewhere detailing the nature of women. He doesn’t understand why everything with her is so hard. They aren’t with seals. They aren’t with Miranda. They aren’t with Annie who leans her head into the side of his leg.

their favourite rainy day activities

It’s the off-season and the facility is down to a skeleton crew. Most everyone’s gone to the Big Island or Oahu or even the mainland for some much needed rest. But Billy isn’t satisfied letting other people take care of his seals, and Beth… as much as they don’t get on sometimes… can’t stand the idea of him staying alone, with virtual strangers even if it IS only for a week.So they follow the same patterns they do every day. Walking the beach with Annie and his seals in tow, feeding treats now and again and she collects shells. They eat together quietly. He spends hours in his office, she keeps company with Dr Gates’ open water tank, daydreaming about swimming with the man-eaters that stop by to visit, and with the others. And the rain comes in the quiet of it all, because of course it does. Beth leaves half her hut open to the elements. It’s the least civilised one of the residences. There’s no real furniture, per se, beyond the bed that takes up most of the room inside, a fireplace, some book shelves, the hammock strung up to the beams, and little touches. Her surf-board in a corner, and a few suitcases that live in a perpetual state of Schrodinger’s packing.

Billy lays across the bed on his stomach, reading an honest to goodness novel. He’s got a blanket bunched up under his chest, his arms. She uses his side the same way and flips through her phone for something by Chopin. Annie’s in her own space, as close to him as she can be.They don’t talk, they don’t really do anything. It’s still the best week, ever.

how they surprise each other

“What is that, even?” Billy stares at the dubious blackened lumps of..oddly flat charcoal.“Pancakes!”“Panca-”“Ya know. Breakfast in bed.” The more he pokes at them with the fork the less amused she looks, the less proud.He’s so going to regret this. And so will Annie. And Gates. And Flint. And anyone else who comes into contact with him afterwards.

He forces himself to chew a bite he’s chisled free. His face strained as he whispers, “delicious.”

their most sickening shows of public affection

It’s the New Season Luau.Some of the staff have dug an imu and there’s an entire pig roasting in its depths not far from the long table covered with other things; local delicacies, people’s family recipes, a mixture of traditional and new. There’s no tourists, no visitors. Just the faculty and workers of the research centre.John and Ben and some of the others are flinging a Frisbee just down the beach in full light of the citronella torches. Miranda and Flint are debating with Gates who is content to trade a bottle with Randall.The night air is balmy and Beth’s standing further apart from the rest, arms wrapped around her bare waist. Billy comes up behind her and drops his chin down on the crown of her hair, breathes in the scent of the plumeria blossom tucked behind her ear, Annie leaning against his leg. He rests his arms over top of her. Pulls her closer into him.

He thinks about asking her to dance.She thinks about letting him.

#nolegacies #The Salt in my Bones|Billy Manderly #No Man's Land|Billy and Beth #Urca Aquarium and Research Facility|A Modern AU #Aloha'aina|Hawai'i

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dr-gloom · 5 years

Text

The Makings of Greatness: Chapter 5

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: platonic logince, platonic moxiety, platonic anxeit, familial ThVi

Tags/Warnings (for this chapter): Virgil is suspicious, and salty

Ko-fi

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12 Ch 13 Ch 14 Ch 15 Ch 16 Ch 17

Logan’s every angered step clanged along the wooden staircase down to the galley, face pinched and absolutely fuming. “That man, that… feline! Who does he think is working for whom?”

Virgil stops next to him. “Hey, it’s my map, and he’s got me bussing tables?”

Emile walks up behind them, gripping their shoulders. “I will not tolerate a bad word about our captain. There’s no finer officer in this galaxy.” He lets them go to continue through the galley, following Logan and Virgil. Logan stomps ahead, pausing as whistling catches his ear.

Past several rows of large wood tables to the kitchen, a man moves about, whistling a strange tune to himself as he works. “Mr. Moran!” Emile calls.

The cook straightens up, wiping his hands on his apron and smiling. “Ah, Mr. Picani, sir! Bringing such fine, distinguished men to grace my humble galley.” His voice is smooth and deep, strangely lulling. He steps out of the shadows the brick stove casts across the kitchen, bowing in good fun with a grin spread across his face. “Had I known, I’d’ve tucked my shirt in.” He laughs at his own joke.

His entire right leg had been replaced with a hydraulic prosthetic; it was an accordion-like mechanism down to the calf, where it turned into a simple metal peg, easy for walking. His right arm was also all machine, though this one far more impressive. Virgil wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly. The top half was simple machine, with typical gears and compressors, while his forearm was a massive, rounded metal shell with long slits in its surface. It was definitely unique, and strange. His left eye and the surrounding flesh were replaced with a machine as well, a golden eye that held a focus lense that could zoom in and out at will and a mechanism where the ear would be to process sound. When he smiled, the skin around the edges of the metal in his face would bunch up. Aside from that, he looked as though he might be a similar species to Logan; small, floppy ears (or, ear…), stout, chubby fingers, and an animalistic nose, though he didn’t have a muzzle. In that respect, he was more like Roman. He wore a plain white shirt, partially covered by his apron, and a loose pair of black pants.

Virgil already didn’t like him. It didn’t help that he was a- Virgil gasped, a phrase ringing in his head. “Cyborg….”

“I came to introduce Dr. Abbott, the financer for our voyage.”

Mr. Moran’s eye turns red, and a laser shoots out to dart across Logan’s suit, taking him in. “Love the outfit, doctor.” He chuckles. Logan resists the urge to cover himself like some exposed damsel.

“Thank you. Interesting eye.” He turns to take Virgil’s arm, pulling him forward. “And this is Virgil Shae.” Virgil gives Logan a scandalized look as the man backs away, leaving Virgil at the cyborg’s mercy.

Mr. Moran thrusts his hand out- or, what used to be a hand. It was now replaced with five tools; a drill, a knife, a strange cross between a mace and a bat, pliers, and scissors. “Virg-o!” Virgil rolls his eyes, shoulders tense as he studies the tools in front of him. Mr. Moran pauses for only a brief moment before tsking himself, and suddenly the metal casing of his forearm is splitting open, and a rotating mechanism is switching the tools with a robotic hand; bare joints and pads for gripping. His grin broadens as he waits, but Virgil just glares up at him. Mr. Moran shrugs, moving back into the kitchen.

“Don’t be too put-off by this… hunk of hardware.” As he speaks, the hand is replaced with scissors. His flesh hand reaches up and grabs a grouping of some alien shellfish, pulling them down and using the scissors to snip the tendrils attaching them to the ceiling. The scissors are then replaced with a multi-purpose tool that he uses to cut open the shellfish, gut them, and toss them into the frying pan with minimal movement. The tool rotates through the functions as it works, so all he has to do is move his arm from one shellfish to the next. The tool is then replaced with a large knife that he uses to cut up some vegetables. He slips his flesh arm into the sleeve to make it seem like he cut his hand off. “Whoa!” He brings his arm up and the sleeve falls down, revealing his uninjured hand, and he grins.

Parlor tricks. Virgil isn’t a child.

The knife is replaced with three small claws, which he uses to break and dispense the contents of three eggs. “These gears have been tough getting used to, but… they do come in handy.” The claws leave to be replaced by a torch, which Mr. Moran lights under the pan as he carries it to the brick stove, dumping the contents into a pot and mixing them together with a normal ladle.

“Now, how about you two try my famous bonzabeast stew?” He spoons out and hands them two bowls; Logan sniffs his curiously. “It’s an old family recipe.” Mr. Moran grins as an eye pops out of Logan’s stew, startling him.

“In fact, that’s part of the family.” He chuckles and grabs the eye, popping it in his mouth. As Logan looks at him, scandalized, he raises an amused eyebrow. “I’m only joking.” He nudges Virgil. “Your friend can’t take a joke, can he?” Virgil shrugs, side-eyeing Mr. Moran. “Go on, try it.”

Mr. Moran moves back to the kitchen to finish preparing the food and Virgil spoons some out, glancing at it skeptically. Suddenly, the spoon curls around the food and swallows it, turning pink. Virgil gasps as it grows eyes, its full mouth grinning up at him. What the…

The rest of the spoon turns pink as it swallows the food and jumps out of Virgil’s hand, seemingly floating in mid-air.

“Morph!” Mr. Moran’s voice calls out fondly. The pink blob smiles and sticks its tongue out at Virgil playfully. It turns into a straw and lands in Virgil’s stew and he watches curiously as it sucks it all up. “You little blob of mischief, so that’s where you went off to.”

Morph turns back into his pink blob form and plops into the now-empty bowl, sighing contently. He burps and flies out of the bowl, rubbing up against Virgil’s cheek happily. “Whoa-” He puts his hand up to block it, the feeling of its weird, almost wet slime-like texture unsettling. “What is that thing?”

“What is that thing?” The blog echoes in a higher-pitched voice. Virgil pokes it and it disperses into smaller blobs before coming back together and shifting into a much smaller copy of Virgil. Virgil squints, and it squints back.

“He’s a morph. I rescued him on Proteus.” Morph goes back to his pink form and flies over to Mr. Moran, cuddling against his neck. “He took a liking to me, and we’ve been together ever since.” He pet the blob with a finger as it cooed happily, smiling.

A bell tolls outside, and Emile clears his throat. “We’re about to get under way. Would you like to observe the launch, doctor?”

“Ah, yes, let’s. I must admit I am rather curious to see the process first-hand.” Logan heads for the stairs, and Virgil moves to follow.

A stone hand extends in front of him, blocking his path. “Virgil, you’re staying with Declan, under his charge.”

Declan coughs when he chokes on the stew he’d been testing, wiping his mouth and straightening up to look at the first mate. Virgil’s eyes widen in panic. Please don’t leave me with the psycho cyborg, please please please…

“I… Beg your pardon, sir, but-”

“Captain’s orders, Declan.” Emile states with an air of finality. “Make sure you keep him busy.”

Virgil’s shoulders drop. Oh, right. He was the pest. The unwanted guest.

“Oh, but wait, you can’t-”

Emile disappears up the stairs.

They both sigh.

In a breath, they’re both on guard, arms crossed and chins up, surveying each other.

“So, captain’s put you with me….”

“Whatever.”

Declan shrugs, going back to work. “Ah, well. I wouldn’t be a humble cyborg, to argue with the captain.”

Virgil’s eyes narrow. Have to act casual.

He grabs a purple fruit from an open barrel, tossing it between his palms. “You know… these purps, they’re kind of like the ones back home… on Montressor. Ever been there?” His heart was beating hard in his chest. What would happen to him if Declan found him out? Would he kill him?

“Can’t say I have, Virg-o.”

“It’s Virgil.”

Declan shrugs, back facing Virgil, and he huffs, pulling himself up onto the countertop. “Actually… now that I’m thinking about it, I met this old guy just before I left that was looking for his cyborg friend.” He takes a bite of the purp.

“Is that so?” Declan asks, tone easy.

“Yeah… What was his name? Oh, right. Billy Bones.”

Declan raises an eyebrow. “Bones. Bones…?” He grabs the large bowl he’d been working over, moving it to the other side of Virgil. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Must’ve been a different cyborg. There’s a lot of us out there…”

Someone whistles overhead, drawing both men’s attention.

“Prepare to cast off!”

Declan grins, gently pushing Virgil off the counter to reach a bottle behind him. “Go watch the launch. There’ll be plenty of work for you when you get back.” Virgil gives him a skeptical look before sauntering up the stairs. Declan hums, holding out a cracker for Morph.

“Better keep an eye on him, huh, Morph? Wouldn’t want him getting into things he shouldn’t.”

Taglist: @the5thcoy @dailysandersidesaudoodles @hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2 @tanyatoloni1334

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #deceit sanders #roman sanders #treasure planet au

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livelovelaug-h · 5 years

Text

So unfair

14x11 spoilers Dean x reader --- angst angst angst.

Imagine finding out about deans plans on killing himself.

[ Car door closes ] I saw, Dean. Donna's shed. I know what you've been building, planning. And we are gonna talk about that. We are all four of us gonna talk about that. So if you don't tell Sam and y/n I will.

~~~~~~~~~

Dean: "It's a Ma'lak box." Dean shuts the Box. Secured and warded. Once inside nothing gets out, not even an archangel. Especially an archangel."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've -- I've read about these, but no -- but no one's ever -- They're impossible to build." Sam says. You narrow your eyes.

"Yeah, well, not so much."

"That's your plan? You want to be buried alive?" You grind your teeth totally getting it now.

"Buried's not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash."

"You and Michael, trapped together -- for eternity?" Sam says while your Still speechless.

"Yeah."

"You do realize how insane this is, right?" Finally you speak up.

"It's the only sane play I've got. Michael gets out, that's it for this world. And he will get out."

"yeah Well, how do you know that for sure?" You give some attitude.

" Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving."

" - But there has to be another way." Sam cuts off.

" - There's not, okay?"

"There -- "

"y/n, Sam, you've tried. Cas has tried. Jack And I love you for trying. But none of it's gonna work. "

"- We don't know that." You say you can't even look at him. It hurts too much.

" - Yeah, we do. "

Sam: "- What?"

"- Billie."

"Billie?" You asked.

"She paid me a little visit. She said that there's only one way that this ends right." Box clatters

"And this is it?"

"-- this, right here, this box. So she gave up the special recipe, and all I had to do was the work. It's fate. "

"Since when do we believe in fate?"

"Now, Sam. Since now."

Sam breathes sharply "So you came out here to see Donna, to see Mom on some -- some what? Some sick, secret farewell tour? You were gonna leave, and you weren't even gonna tell me. Me. Or y/n."

"DO YOU REALIZE HOW MESSED UP THAT IS, HOW UNFAIR THAT IS?!" You yelled.

" - I didn't have a choice! You guys are the last people I could tell, the last people I could be around, 'cause you're the only ones that could've talked me out of it. And I won't be talked out of it. I won't. I'm doing this. Now, you can either let me do it alone or you could help me. But I'm doing this. All right."

You shake your head. "I hate you!! You can't keep making these decisions. It's stupid!"

"it's not stupid if it saves the world from Michael."

"you know what? Fine. Do it. But you can't honestly ask me to stay and help you do that. Throw everything away. And if you do manage to come back again don't expect us to be a thing." you walked out crying. You went back into the house you guys were staying at and went to your room letting everything out. You couldn't believe it.

Dean came up to your room and heard you crying. He wasn't sure what to do.

" I wouldn't." Mary said making dean turn around. "If you're really going to do this, then nothing you say is going to make her feel better. It's just going to hurt more."

"yeah."

"you should um get some sleep." He just smiles and nods while she walks away.

~~~~ next morning~~~~~

You got up early and went in the kitchen for a coffee or course you didn't sleep well. It was around 7 am and you knew no one would be awake expect maybe Sam. You were planning on leaving after you finished. Sam had his gym clothes on and came into the room. You smiled and he did the same.

"hey, didn't sleep well?"

"did you?"

"no. Look we can try and talk him out of it"

"you heard him Sam, he's not going to change his mind." You say finishing the coffee. Sam just nods and walks out the door. "cya".

'yeah maybe.' you put the cup in the sink and when you turned around you seen Dean coming in, you both stopped.

You lock your jaw and start walking away.

"Y/n?-"

"don't." You whip around. "Don't dean. It's not fair okay? Leaving your family behind when you just got your mom back. I get it but still your quitting. You said you would never turn your back on me, well what do you call this??!! I don't think I've EVER hated you more in my entire life." He seen how weak you were, of course he was hurting too, especially with your words.

"goodbye Dean." You walk out the door without saying another word or letting dean say another word.

~~~~~~~~~~

to be continued

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jmeelee · 6 years

Note

If I try to bribe you with chocolate, will you come back and write something for BS? Just this once? 😆

Dear nonny, I hope this is sweet enough for you!

______

Friday is John Silver’s favorite day to work at Max’s. Chances are he won’t get off until after midnight, when the posh patrons have consumed their fill of cappuccinos and the ocean view, and stumble out of the fancy restaurant to continue their paradise vacations. Normally, he’s deathly allergic to this brand of hard labor: fourteen hours on his feet, fake smiles, balancing a dozen glasses of wine on a flimsy serving tray. The money is good, but that’s not what’s kept him waiting tables here for six months.

That would be James Flint, the pastry chef.

And tonight? John Silver has a good feeling about tonight.

***

“Don’t even think about stealing food off the plates,” Billy, the head waiter, tells him as he’s training on his first day. “You only eat what’s served at four o’clock family meal. See that old dude over there?” He gestures toward a Sous Chef with greasy grey hair and a stained apron. “That’s Randall. If you even pilfer a potato, he’ll know. He has a sixth sense or something.”

Silver takes in the bloodshot eyes of the man swaying on his feet like he’s standing on the deck of a rocking ship, instead of unmoving hard cement. “More likely he’s just stoned and paranoid.”

Billy shrugs. “Either way, no sticky fingers, or you’ll be fired.” And Silver thinks he’ll have no trouble following this rule, until they pass the pantry and end up at the dessert station.

Silver’s mouth starts to water, but it’s not because of the sweets.

In front of him stands the sexiest mother fucker he’s ever laid eyes on. Soft looking auburn locks are swept back from his forehead by a black bandana. The sleeves of his double-breasted jacket are rolled up above his elbows, showcasing sun-kissed forearms that bear so many freckles they look like they’ve been dusted with cinnamon. The man is bustling around his station, snatching flour and sugar, bending down to grab stainless steel bowls and a wooden rolling pin, his houndstooth pants stretching over thick thighs.

“Who’s he?” Silver asks, voice several octaves deeper than it was when they toured the grill.

But Billy doesn’t notice; he’s too busy shooting daggers at the pastry chef with his eyes while the man studiously ignores both of them. “That’s James Flint. Don’t bother getting to know him. He’s a dickhead.”

John thinks he sees the corner of Flint’s mouth raise a fraction of an inch, but Billy is hustling him onto the dining floor too quick to be sure. “What makes him a dick?” John asks as the kitchen doors swing shut behind them.

“He’s worked here ten years, back before this place was even called Max’s. But he doesn’t know any of our names. The maitre d’ once told him I’d personally handle all the dessert runs at a wedding we were hosting, and the asshole looks Hal Gates straight in the face and says ‘Who the fuck is Billy?’ I was standing right there! We’d worked together for six years!”

Silver bites his lip to keep from laughing at Billy’s outrage. “Seriously, ignore him like he ignores the rest of us. He doesn’t like anyone, and he can go fuck himself.” Now that’s an image John’s going to store away for solo time tonight.

“He’s going to like me,” John vows with a sharp smile.

Billy’s blonde eyebrows jump to his hairline. “And how the fuck do you think you’ll manage to make that happen?”

John shrugs. “I’m a hard man not to like.”

***

It takes four full weeks of John’s killer smiles and cheery ‘good mornings’ for Flint to even look up from the bread dough he’s kneading. Silver is so surprised he trips over his own feet and nearly face plants into the soup station. Flint grunts out a small laugh, and goes back to punching the dough like he wishes it were John’s face connecting with his knuckles.

Progress.

***

By the second month Flint is grumping out a greeting in answer to John’s daily salutations, and by month three the entire waitstaff has nicknamed him the pastry whisperer.

“What’s that you’re making?”

“You can’t eat it,” James commands, never looking up from the tan sauce he’s methodically stirring. “It’s peanut butter glacé.”

“Not even a little lick? For me?” John seductively leans across the counter, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“Fuck off you little shit.”

***

Month four finds Flint explaining some of his recipes to Silver, who listens attentively because the shape of James’ mouth when it moves does things to him. In month five Flint allows Silver to help him brown the sugar on his signature coffee creme brûlée.

John flicks on the mini blow torch. “Wish I was blowing something else.” He winks at James, whose ears turn as red as his hair.

Progress.

***

John starts coming to work earlier and earlier during month six. Flint gets to work before the sun rises to start the bread and desserts and get them into the cooler, and he’s out at three o’clock, so if Silver wants to monopolize his time it needs to be early.

“Are you trying to usurp Billy’s position as head waiter?” James jokes on the third morning Silver rolls in early. John heads straight to the industrial sized coffee maker and brews an extra strong pot. It’s a Friday, and weekend shifts always creep into the wee morning hours, but on Friday’s Flint usually strips off his apron and stays for family meal, sharing a dessert with the staff.

Silver brings them both cups of steaming black coffee and sets up a stand, stacking trays lined with linen napkins so they’re ready for lunch service. “No one could outshine the golden boy,” he replies.

Flint laughs, the sound making Silver’s stomach flip. “Maybe for Gates,” he allows. “He loves Billy like a son.”

Silver turns on the charm. “And who do you love?”

“I love peace and quiet, neither of which I’ve had since you started working here.”

John makes a rude sound with his mouth.

“Fuck me,” Flint curses, and for a moment Silver thinks it’s a request, but then he notices James scowling at the chocolate sauce he’s heating over a double broiler.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, stepping behind the counter and checking the contents of the glass bowl.

“It’s dull,” James hisses, scraping the sides of the bowl with a spatula. “I was going to use it as a glaze for raspberry truffles, but the quality is too low. They’ll look like lumps of shit.” He dips his index finger into the bowl and holds it up, testing the glossiness under the bright fluorescent lights.

John leans forward and wraps his lips around Flint’s finger to the second knuckle, swirling his tongue around the digit, sucking up all the chocolate and pulling off with an audible pop.

Flint is staring at him, pupils blown and slack jawed, as Silver lets out a pornographic moan. “Tastes amazing,” he supplies, then grabs his stack of trays and saunters out into the dining room to refill the salt shakers.

“That little shit,” he hears Flint’s awed curse as he exits the kitchen, wet hand dropping to grope the erection tenting his checkered pants.

John smiles to himself as rich dark chocolate melts in his mouth. Yeah. Tonight is going to be a good night.

#silverflint #black sails #answered asks #anon #guys my writing cheerleader nonny is the BEST and deserves all the chocolate in the world #john silver #james flint #my fic

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found--family · 5 years

Text

14.12 coda - where there’s a will

@spnonewordbingo

square: BURN

rating: teen | 3.5k | also on ao3 (theheartchoice)

tags: light angst, internally negative!dean, hurt/comfort, hugging, canon-compliant Dean/Cas

summary: TWF 2.0 destroy the Ma'lak box and Dean takes comfort while he still can.

Who knew the bunker even had a furnace? Well, Sam did, apparently.

When the refugees had arrived from the other universe, he’d explored certain corridors and sections of the bunker he hadn’t been near since first cataloguing the entire place for a revised map - years ago, now.

Turns out, with that many people, even in a space as big as the bunker, things were heating up to near uncomfortable levels. So. Solution? Turn down whatever magic-powered thermostat kept the place from freezing over come winter, just a little.

Dean was vaguely aware of it, but it wasn't pertinent information, most days - or any day, really. So it had settled somewhere in the recesses of his mind, along with lesser pasta sauce recipes and the best technique for french-braiding short hair (because it’s not like Sam would actually ever let him put his know-how into practice).

But after the ‘miracle’ of Donatello, when they returned home - together, determined to find a better way - that’s when the existent of the furnace shuffled to the forefront of Dean's mind.

Since he'd made Sam and Cas a promise not to go it alone, anymore (at least for now), he allowed them to help him break down the Ma’lak box. It was an interesting exercise, as Cas briefly demonstrated how neither his Angelic strength nor his Angelic powers could render the box back to scrap metal.

Billie had been bang-on with those sigils. Dean was just somewhat surprised that his own craftsmanship had held up along with the intricate magic.

The box was untested, after all. Dean’d be lying if he said he didn’t have doubts (aside from all the inherent fears of this plan) of locking himself up to get tossed down to the briny deep, to take a not-so-deep sleep with only a pissed-off Archangel as company for all eternity without knowing for certain whether or not this little metalwork project would work.

But proof of such seemed beyond his reach. It’s not like it was in the old days, where there was an Angel lurking around every corner; Archangels even less so. And their near-extinction aside, Dean would put good money on any one of them trying to kill him before wanting to do him a favour.

Not that he can actually die, though.

Maybe if they’d known his plan they might have helped. But there still remains no Angel he ever trusted more than Cas - nor ever could.

Their own misguided good intentions might well have overcome any desire for vengeance (because that’s what Angels have become: bottled up chaotic emotions often funnelled toward Dean - if not Cas - like a freakin’ cosmic twister of the lord). Any Angel who was willing to 'help' him might've turned on him, as Angels often do, trying to free Michael in order to save Heaven, or so they would think.

Michael doesn't want to save anyone, or anything. He has zero interest in playing Savior; he wants nothing more than to watch the world burn - and to force Dean into a front-row seat of the show.

To avoid taking that risk, Dean would’ve gone through with his plan alone - Ma’lak box untested - and just hoped that his own two hands and Donna’s outdated power tools, along with the belief that Billie wasn’t one for cutting corners, was enough to get the job done.

It doesn’t matter much now, of course, since his plan has been put on hold - for the time being. But he told both Sam and Cas, plain as day: if the time comes and it’s the only play left on the board, then he’ll take it. No holds barred.

He’s scared as hell about it but he’ll do what needs to be done. Just like he always has.

Still. Dean knows holding onto the Ma’lak box is a morale-killer. He doesn't want to drag his family down to the depths with him before his time is up. And now that he knows that it works the next one won’t be constructed from rusty sheet metal. He’ll go all-out with top quality materials, just in case.

Better safe than sorry.

But this one needs to go. They all need this. Breaking down this box is akin to breaking down the lies and deception Dean hadn’t meant to force upon them.

They wanted to know, and now they do. Mom’s interference aside, Dean really doesn’t know if he could’ve kept it a secret, reasons be damned. He felt the need to, but Sammy’s always been the smart one. He knows Dean better than anyone (in certain ways), so if he hadn’t have caved then odds are Sam would’ve figured it out on his own.

Sam would’ve told Cas, again - because he feels they both deserve to know, despite Dean’s own wishes - and he would’ve been right to do so. Just because Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell Cas doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the right to know, too. He has every right. He’s family.

As for right now, what matters is them working together to find a Plan C. And if when they don’t find one, well..

..they’ll meet that bridge over troubled water when they come to it. When they come back to Plan B - B for Bridge, for Box, for being Batshit crazy to follow Billie’s plan to the Bottom of the ocean.

But needs must.

Maybe it won’t be so bad - saying a proper goodbye. It’ll hurt, no question. But it’ll probably hurt a lot more not to. A little closure can’t be a bad thing - it might even help him find some semblance of peace before he takes that final plunge.

Dean scratches out the sigils on the main panels as the three of them begin dismantling the box. Four, if you count Jack - though he’s still processing the information, and his anger - which surprised the hell outta Dean, gotta say - is hindering any chance of him being safe in handling power tools.

He’s pretty much standing there with a scowl and a distant look in his eye, throwing out questions and counterpoints - most of which Sam and Cas field, thankfully, since they already know the answers. Dean focuses on breaking down the welding and larger metal components having made a temporary workspace of the boiler room, while they try to ease Jack’s mind.

Dean refuses Cas’ attempts to use his powers to carve up the de-powered metal, insisting they do it the old-fashioned way, just in case. Jack watches over Sam’s shoulder as he reads through the books Dean pilfered from the library, cobbling together an Enochian charm with Cas’ help to bolster the flames of the furnace enough to destroy any ounce of magic left in the metal of the disassembled Ma’lak box.

Cas chants the words, Dean supporting this particular Angelic assistance, and the flames shift: bright gold at the base, reminding him of Holy Fire - if not for the almost blood-red tips licking at the irons insides of the furnace.

They each take turns feeding the metal pieces into the powered-up flames, until Dean is holding the last piece: the main sigil, the 'lock' that would have secured Michael’s watery coffin.

It’s not the first time he’s destroyed a safeguard against Evil, but this time he can find comfort in knowing it’s not a one-time deal, not a ‘do and be doomed’, kind of thing. Because he can make another magical box. He can etch another magical lock.

The markings of the ancient language spark in the flames when Dean lays in the final piece. As if the fire itself is sentient, it glows brighter the moment he does - bright enough to blind, causing them all to flinch and shield their eyes, even Cas - before the golden light is swallowed up in a bloody shadow, enveloping the confines of the chamber.

The shadow darkens to pitch black, gold sparking through it like fireworks on a clouded night - before snuffing out. The dark smoke clearing to reveal an empty chamber: flames out; all metal reduced to an iridescent ash.

And.. that’s it.

It’s done.

One less distraction for the coming days, weeks.. months? Who knows how long, really. There’s only so much Dean can do to keep Michael at bay, and considering how they’ve already explored every other option― if he’s being honest, which, End Times being nigh and all he probably should, he doesn’t see another way out of it.

He can see the bridge up ahead, knows they’ll come to it probably sooner rather than later, and he’s willing to throw himself over the edge to keep the world turning, to keep the ground from crumbling underneath his family and countless innocent lives.

It’s not like it’s anything new, this course of action - it’s an old favourite; the default for when the world is about to go to hell - often literally. Self-sacrifice for the Greater Good has always seemed worth it - but only when Dean is the one giving whatever he can to right the wrong that’s threatening to fuck up the world.

But, that’s okay. It sucks, but someone’s gotta do it and it’s what Dean excels at. Despite all his fuckups and failings over the years, if there’s a legacy he leaves behind it’s this: Fightin' the Good Fight.

Because even when he can’t say what needs to be said, he can at least do what needs to be done.

He can show those he cares about most just how much they mean to him.

Although.. It didn’t always work out so well. More often than not, he’d screwed things up worse than they already were - inviting some new Big Bad to replace the old one.

He tells himself this time is different. There’s no deal with a Devil, no trading of circumstance to lead things from bad to worse, not really. This one isn’t gonna come back to bite them in the ass - because this is The End. He’s taking Michael out of play by taking himself off the board.

Dean can see all the unplayed moves ahead them, and every course of action leads to the same inevitable end. He knows when he’s beat, but it’s not checkmate. The Ma’lak box is his resignation to a fate he can no longer change. And if he can’t kill the King, then he’ll lay down his sword and drag that bastard to the bottom of everything where he can’t hurt anyone ever again.

Dean tagging along for the ride seems a small price to pay, compared to that win.

But this - THIS, holding out hope for something he knows won’t come..? He can’t play that game, can’t toy with his sanity and whatever remains of his irrevocably scarred soul for that. But he’s not doing this for himself.

He’s doing it for them, for his family. Because they need this. They need to search for a way to save him, need one last scrounge for a win before the final bow-out.

So, Dean will hold out. Long as he can.

But it’s not about hope - not for him. He’s doing this for the same reason he built that damn box in the first place - the same reason he’s always made the Sacrifice Play.

On the surface it’s for Humanity, for the innocents, for Free Will, and for the world in general. But he won’t lie; he’s a selfish man, and it’s far more personal than all that.

He’s just glad this time saving one (ie. The World) means saving the other, too (ie. His Family).

There’s no trade-off.

It’s win-win.

Speaking of family..

Sam ushers Jack out of the boiler room after all is done, because he knows Dean - better than Dean usually cares to admit, let alone appreciate, but right now he’s silently grateful - because he knows there are things still left to say, things that need to be said.

Dean’s already said his piece, scrap by scrap, to Sammy. But earlier in the hospital his conversation with Cas had been cut short, and the ride home was a mix of stilted questions, theories and more questions - about Billie and her notebooks, about the box and Michael, about Donatello’s once-again soulless self and Dean’s own state of being - most of which was met with curt replies smothered in uneasy silence.

They may have cleared the air before they hit the road, but that doesn't mean there's nothing left to say, that there are no more emotion-fuelled dialogues left to stagger through. And for the most part they had settled on a common ground of thought, perhaps due to exhaustion - both emotional and physical - preventing them from arguing further.

But, everything considered, they couldn’t just do away with the burden weighing on all of them through willalone. They were still forced to deal with the brutal reality of one homocidal Archangel locked up in the trunk of Dean’s mind.

Once they’d reached the bunker, there had been no hesitation.

Sam went straight for the trailer, setting his own plan in motion right away: to tear apart the Ma’lak box and burn it to cinder in the basement’s furnace. Cas was already helping him remove the restraints before Dean could comprehend what exactly was happening.

From their talk in the car he knew Sam wanted to destroy the box. He didn’t want it to be some safety net for Dean to fall back on. For the future, Dean had begrudgingly agreed. But for tonight, and for the difficult days ahead, Sam didn’t want its mere existence dragging down their efforts, like it was all for naught, a weight at the backs of their minds - as if Dean didn’t have enough weighing on his already.

Sam was afraid, he said so. Said he didn’t want Dean sneaking off in the middle of the night with his makeshift coffin in-tow and a map to the coast spread beside him.

Dean understood, really he did. He just didn’t think the demolition needed to happen right freakin’ now―

―But then Sam was already calling for Jack, and Cas was fetching a dolly from the workshop corner of the garage.

Fine. Might as well get it over with.

And now it’s done.

All that’s left is Dean and Cas alone in the relative quiet and thick-walled privacy of the boiler room. All it took was Dean speaking Cas’ name - once, and soft - for him to stay behind.

Not wanting to draw the awkward pre-conversation moment out any longer, as soon as Sam and Jack’s receding footsteps disappeared and he deemed them out of earshot, Dean spoke up.

“Sam said the same thing.”

Cas had waited patiently for him to speak first, but where before there was a disharmony of dread and anticipation in his features, now there was confusion. Can’t blame him.

“About.. saying ‘goodbye’, you know.” Though, maybe Cas doesn’t know. “You gotta understand, man―it’s not that I didn’t wanna see you, tell you―” The thought chokes his words off, just a bit, just enough that he has to stop and clear his throat before going on. “..I couldn’t. I couldn’t just call you up sayin’: hey, got a sec-? I’m about to throw myself into the ocean for all eternity, just thought I’d let you know―” He has to catch himself again, catch his breaking voice, more vulnerability sneaking through than he cares to let out.

By the time he readies himself again, strength wavering, Cas has stepped closer, edging in on his personal space. But it's not suffocating. It's a comfort. One Dean has been more and more thankful for over the years. He's just failed to show―to tell Cas, how much.

He knows he should probably keep his distance, like always, but.. is there really any point to that, anymore?..

“I told Sam, that he was the only one who could talk me out of it―which is exactly why I didn’t tell him," and he can already hear his voice wobble again, but he pushes through. "And ‘cos I don’t do good with Goodbyes, Cas, I―” damn tears, stupid choked-up voice, “―I couldn’t say Goodbye to you, okay―? Not again―I could not go through that, again.”

Dean can’t look at him anymore―has to blink away the hot tears blurring his vision. He only peeks back up as Cas sucks in a breath, lets it out quick. Dean's own lungs inflate his chest with a stuttered breath; Cas is right there. He’s well inside Dean’s space bubble, closer than ever and yet still so far away , eyes soft with concern, a sad smile twitching his lips.

“..I don’t think I could say Goodbye to you, either. Not forever.”

It’s almost enough.

To hear Cas say that ―it’s almost enough to fight back the rush of painful memories, to escape the knowing that it will happen again , soon enough. Not in the same way, but it will feel just as permanent.

Cas’ hand finds Dean’s shoulder, fits so perfectly there. Always has. The weight of his touch and the grounding of his words, his voice, help Dean to focus on something beyond Michael’s barricaded presence in his head.

And.. honestly?

If the time they have left together is shorter than it ought to be, if Goodbye is painful but inevitable, then whatever ache might settle in his soul once he’s under the weight of an entire ocean, far away from everyone he loves with nothing but his own mind for escape against the lonesome years, then maybe, maybe .. seeking a little comfort beforehand isn’t quite the risk Dean thought.

Because the secret is out. Cas knows what things may come to - and Cas doesn’t want to say Goodbye , either. But he will. If there is no other way, and if that’s what Dean needs, he will.

So, what’s the harm in leaning on his best friend a little, for just a little while? What’s the harm in letting Cas know this isn’t easy at all on Dean, that he could really use some help, someone to help keep him from crumbling when he needs to stand stronger than he ever has?

It's a rough feat, alone - may be damn near impossible.

If he has to take that final step off the bridge alone, then he damn sure doesn’t want to make the walk down there alone.

And Cas gets it―he gets Dean―because now Dean is leaning forward without expressly meaning to but not wanting to pull back, and Cas is opening his arms to embrace him.

Dean has to sift through muddled memories to find the last time he shared a hug with Cas.. The realisation that it’s been a while doesn’t sit well with him.

He holds on tight. Holds Cas with everything he's got left.

Seconds drift into minutes.

Dean hugs Cas as long as he needs to, and in return allows himself to be held. Because maybe, just maybe, Cas needs this as much as he does. For once, without all the angst and desperation of a last-chance confession almost, they can just let themselves be close to each other.

It’s comfort for comfort’s sake a doomed man's grasp, with no enemy bearing down on them the enemy is in him to hurry things along his time is running out.

The world isn’t ending not yet. Not tonight. They’re alive for now and safe not really and together more distance between them than ever.

It won't be forever, it never is. But right here, right now, this is enough.

It's the most he'll ever have.

Cas holds on tighter.

Michael breathes inside his mind.

Dean focuses on Cas’ breath instead: in his ear, not his head. He focuses on the heartbeat beating back into his own chest, filling every off-beat of his own with a steady, thump.. thump..

He ignores the arrhythmic pounding of fists on his mental door, screwdriver shaking in its place.

It's okay. He'll replace the screwdriver with a magical lock fashioned by Death herself. It'll be okay.

Dean buries his nose in Cas’ collar, breathes deep, steady―heady―exhales, slow as he can.. He feels a contrasting mix of weakness and revitalisation flood through him. His knees ache to bend, to let his body fold under the weight of everything. His heart, though, beats a little louder, trying to pump more blood around his body, keep him standing.

Cas holds him steady, lets him lean as his legs feel weak. His heart doesn't have to struggle alone.

He can do this. With help, he can do what needs to be done.

And if Dean pretends that his face buried in Cas’ neck in search of comfort and strength is the only reason his lips press against his collar?..

..well.

This is closer than he's ever been.

It's close enough.

It's just enough.

Cas keeps holding on.

Dean lets him.

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