#i guess we both gave disclosures like i said i talk a lot and they didnt think i mesnt that much (despite talking all the time???)

[xplrvibes]

if she ever talked about him, it could've just been about how she felt and how made her feel. he practically lead her on for years always going back to her when things got tough, thinking he loved her when it was just in his head. she has the right to talk about her feelings.

Oh, there's no "if." I've heard it with my own ears. Had screen recordings sent to me of various times she's spoken about him. I know what was said.

I am curious as to how the story of him stringing her along (which is an embellishment of what I have actually heard her say but I guess embellishment is ok sometimes) became so commonplace if it didn't start from her talking about him to fans, though. Either fans are spreading lies and people are eating it up cause it's Colby related drama and that's fun for the whole family...

....or maybe, just maybe, Shea's been talking. A lot. Publicly and privately. To fans.

Idk. Jury's out on which one it is lol.

Regardless, I never said she couldn't talk about him on her streams (although I have and will continue to maintain that NOBODY should be in a group chat with stans and I don't care who you are, cause it's creepy) - it's a free country, she can do what she wants as far as talking about her life is concerned. But if she's going to talk about him and he doesn't respond well to it and doesn't want to be associated with her anymore because of it...isn't that also valid? If he doesn't want to be with someone or be tied to someone anymore because she's publicly speaking about him and his private life to fans on the internet (which he has long mainained is something he doesn't appreciate, which means a boundary of his is being crossed here) and he unfollows....is that not also his prerogative? If he ever decides to come out and tell his side of the story - cause again, the only thing that has ever been told publicly is Shea's extremely vague and to be completely honest from what I have seen, very inconsistent side - would that also be valid or he would be a monster for it?

And full disclosure- I know the xplrclub video from yesterday was made common knowledge and has now been added as fodder in this story. I have had multiple people venting to me in my ask box about it. Putting aside the shittiness of xplrclub footage once again making it's way past the paywall - that was Colby expressing his feelings about a previous experience in his life (and one that was so vague that we don't truly know who he was referring to). Is that OK for him to do, or is it only a problem when it's him talking about things like that?

Also, I'd love to point out that people have been begging people to stop tagging Kat in stuff pertaining to Sam because it upsets her...but Colby is supposed to be fine with continuously being dragged into drama and linked to and have his crap with Shea spoken about as if everyone knows the full story based on the - again, I have to say this - VERY VAGUE THINGS SHE HAS SAID. Why can't he take steps to distance himself from it? If she has the right to speak on it whenever she chooses, he has the right to not want to speak on it or be associated with it in any capacity anymore, if he so chooses.

I'll close this by saying this - it's over. Nobody knows the full nature of what it was - although it was definitely not anything resembling a real and healthy, functioning relationship for either party. But whatever it was, it's over. They've cut ties. Let them. They are both human beings and they are both doing what they feel is best for themselves. 🤷‍♀️

*I enjoyed this ask very much, anon, and hope I did not come off as though I am attacking you because I am definitely not. I find this whole thing...annoying for various reasons, and I appreciate the opportunity this ask gave me to kind of try and talk through it. Thank you!*

[psychelocktango]

Therapist: it sounds like you want justice that will never come. I know you feel bad because you have anger and don't like feeling like you want the people who hurt you to hurt you but that's good! That's progress!

Me: okay so how do I get rid of that want for justice/ revenge?

Therapist: that's sort of just being human. Your anger is justified! And that's a good thing to have!

Me:

[its-2-late]

A Letter I May Never Send

Full disclosure, I'm currently writing this at 4 am. I suppose if you're reading this it's some time in the future when I finally finished getting everything out and decided to actually send it. At the time of writing, it's mainly me just... needing to scream into the void so to say. So I apologize in advance for how rambly this is going to be. Literally just writing as things come to me.

That being said, I really hardly know what to say, or whether I should say anything at all. So much happened between us. A lot of which we never properly talked about, especially at the end.

I can't say I necessarily regret that things ended. That would mean saying I regret what I have now. My child means absolutely everything to me and I would never wish her to not exist, regardless what I gave up along the way. I do regret HOW they ended. It's been over a year since we last spoke as I'm beginning to write this and it still hurts.

There's a lot of questions I often find myself wishing I could ask.

Does it still hurt you?

Are you like me and have tried to move on, but still feel an ache in your heart some nights when your mind wanders back to us?

Do you prefer to just not think about it at all?

Do you still talk about me? Reminiscing about some fun time we had, or maybe a quiet deep moment we shared?

One of my most vivid memories of you is the first time you held me. Laying on the futon, just goofing off. You saw cuts on my leg and you just rolled over and hugged me from behind. You told me, "you scare the shit out of me." I don't know if I've ever told you the feelings that came over me that night.

For damn near as long as I could remember I'd felt hollow and empty. Like the shadow of a person. Broken pieces that had been taped together to somewhat resemble a functional human being.

That one hug felt like it both broke me entirely and pulled my pieces back together all at the same time. It was one of only two times in my entire life that I felt really and truly wanted, cared about, seen.

It hurt.

I wanted so badly to just melt into the kind of love you seemed to be offering.

I wanted so badly to also run away and hide from the hurt and pain I was terrified would come along with that type of love.

Guess I did a bit of both?

I remember telling you about how friends I'd had for years turned their backs on me. You said you'd never do that. And you truly never did, even when I turned my back on you multiple times. I'm going to try and avoid sounding guilt trippy in this... we both know what I did and saying I'm sorry over and over again won't change or fix anything. Lord knows it doesn't make any pain I caused go away.

There are times I wonder how things might have been different if I'd talked to you more openly. If we would have worked things out, or if we were just meant to eventually drift away from each other. I tell myself often that we just were at different points in life. A big part of me thinks that's true, but maybe instead of basically being strangers we could have still been a part of each other's lives in smaller ways if I'd just talked to you.

I did always mean it when I said you were one of my best friends.

At times I think I miss that the most. Not and of the romantic aspects, but everything else.

The way you made me smile and laugh.

How big, warm, and comfortable your hugs always were.

Hell, even the way you used to purposefully get me riled up over something stupid just to hear me rant.

When you'd smile and wiggle your eyebrows. You have probably the sweetest smile on anyone I've ever known. I miss seeing it.

Sometimes it's seemingly stupid shit that'll make me think of you.

I was listening to Fruits Basket opening/ending songs in the car today and remembered watching with you. Anytime a Sasuke thing comes into Gamestop I still will think, "Oh I should send him a picture of this." Going up to Shreveport reminds me of the time you went with me to see my psychologist and the waiter at Olive Garden gave us butter.

Sometimes a new game or show will come out and I still get the urge to message you to ramble about it.

I still have your number in my phone. I'll randomly check Facebook sometimes to see if you unfriended or blocked me.

I've never been good at letting go of things. Especially anything that ever gives any kind of pleasure or happiness. Fuck, even when that happiness comes along with pain. Probably why I've always clung so tightly to people and things that were bad for me in the end.

Something I'm still working on. And apparently failing.

At one point a few months ago I deleted all the pictures I had of you off of my phone. A part of me regrets it. Probably the part that I literally just said doesn't like letting go of the past. I guess part of me writing this whole letter is is somewhere in me hoping that somehow it'll bring some sort of closure.

I don't ever talk about you. That's part of what hurts. All these memories of someone who meant the world to me, and I can't even talk about you. Not about how I still miss you, or about some funny or stupid thing that just happens to remind me of you. At times I feel like I just need to get drunk and just vent/gush about you to someone for a few hours. Get it all out and maybe finally I could actually begin to properly move on emotionally.

Until then, I guess I'll just keep coming back to this letter anytime I need to say anything. Wonder how long this will end up being. Wonder if you're going to read it at all.

I'm not sure I would.

I'd probably see it and want to just delete it. Bury down whatever feelings I knew it would cause to creep up that I'd rather not have to face and deal with.

I'd want to delete it, but it would more likely just sit in my inbox, unread. I'd go back and stare at it sometimes, not opening it, but just seeing that it was there.

For me, at least, it would answer the question of "do you still think of me." For a while that'd probably be enough for me. I'd just cling to that thought, not really wanting to face whatever else was inside.

I've never been good at accepting the idea of people I love no longer loving me. It's something I've always preferred to just assume, because confirmation and me fully acknowledging it gave it a sense of permanence that felt like the end of the world.

Probably why I did a lot of what I did with you. Especially at the end. Instead of just telling you how I was feeling I just... stopped.

In some ways it was a way to defend myself. Others a way to protect you from me.

Knowing my own feelings for you and how I am when it comes to those sorts of strong feelings, I knew if I allowed you to remain in my life at all during that time I would never be able to let go.

Granted, I guess me writing this is me still not letting go... but I think I would have destroyed myself trying to hold onto something that was no longer there. I don't know how long you'd have stayed for it, but the idea of dragging you even further down with me sealed the idea in my head that it was better for both of us if I just walked away.

Whether that's true or not, I don't know. That was my reasoning at the time. I still feel like it holds water, to some degree. I mean look at me. It's now 5 am and I'm sat here still writing this letter to you. Not sure where I'm even going with it. I just need to get it all out before I lose my mind, whether you ever end up seeing any of this or not.

I still have some of your stuff. Stuff I got you that you never took home. Stuff you brought over and forgot. I've debated asking Ariel to give it to you multiple times. Me clinging to the last remnants of you I guess. Without even pictures anymore it almost feels like if I give that stuff back it'll be as if you never existed.

Even just sitting here thinking about it now has me on the verge of tears and wanting to message you "hi" just to see if you'd respond. Sound stupid? Maybe. Can still hear the sound of your voice in my head, maybe reassuring me that its not stupid.

Wonder what you would do if we saw each other in passing. Would you pretend to not see me? Would you meet my eyes and just keep walking? Would you smile back if I smiled at you?

I've been at work at Gamestop so many times wondering what it would be like if you walked into the store while I was there. Wondering how it'd make me feel. How you would feel to see me there.

I do a lot of wondering. Especially right now. Being alone at night and up at weird hours with a baby leaves me entirely too much time for my mind to wander. Usually to darker parts of my mind I prefer to forget exist.

I was doing good for a long time, you know. I got a tattoo that covers the scars on my one shoulder. I still think about it, though. The urges are still there, especially recently.

I've thought about going back on medication. Doctor offered it to me at my two week post-partum appointment because I was showing moderate symptoms of post-partum depression. Couple weeks later during my therapy appointment I was worse and was ranking as severe in both depression and anxiety.

I've had more breakdowns in the last month than I have in over a year. The loss of progress itself is depressing.

Maybe that's part of why I'm writing this letter. Maybe it's part of why I ran away from you. You reminded me too much of a darker time in my life, despite the fact you were one of the reasons I even got through that time at all.

I just had to stop writing for a minute because my baby spit her pacifier out in her sleep and was fussing. She'll probably wake up hungry soon.

It's been over an hour since I started writing. I'm really tired, but it feels like I've barely scratched the surface of what I want to tell you. So much more I feel like I want to say knowing this may actually be the last time I have the chance.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 7 - meet ugly

thank you to @ianandmickeygallavich for the inspo // @gallavichthings

Prompt: Ian and Mickey are neighbors in an apartment complex. They haven’t ever interacted, but one day they get stuck the elevator. One of them doesn’t like confined spaces but doesn’t share this so the other one assumes he is freaking out for no reason.

Words: 3.5k

--

"I'm going out tonight, dickbreath!" Mandy announced, popping her head out of the bathroom. She was wearing a short sequined dress, fitted tightly to her body and only halfway zipped up so it slipped part way down her shoulders.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Mickey called from his recliner in the living room with an Old Style in hand. Work has been absolutely kicking his ass this week and he wanted nothing more than a chill night in.

"Oh, c'mon, now that's no fun. You don't do anything," she accused.

"That's not true!" Mickey grumbled, remote in hand and flicking past some news channels onto some good shit -- finally. Rerun of Jurassic Park.

"What're your plans for the evening then, hot shot?" Mandy teased as she applied yet another layer of mascara on her already blackened eyelashes, "Dinosaur movies all night?"

"Might go to the corner store for some smokes."

"Please get something to eat while you're at it. We have like nothing in here." She waltzed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and grimaced. He could admit that a grocery run was, in fact, long overdue.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Serious, Mick." Mandy gave him the look. The Look being the same Look that his mother used to give him when he was being a little shit.

Fine. "Got it. I'll eat something." She smiled at that.

"Thank youuu," Mandy dragged the word out as she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"Gross."

"Ditto. Zip me up?"

--

Mandy had headed out awhile ago -- long enough ago that Mickey was now halfway through his second 'dinosaur movie.' He should really visit his dinosaur guy again soon, he's probably got some cool new shit. Mickey sighed and got up, idling over to the kitchen.

He downed a full glass of water and opened the fridge. Yeah, unless he wanted to eat a pickle with ketchup and beer, he needed to go out. He debated ordering in, but he needed to go to the corner store anyways. Two birds one stone kind of situation.

Mickey threw on his favorite pair of sweatpants and his Davie Bowie tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. It was a good shirt. Mickey thought Bowie was hot -- fuckin' alien-looking, but hot, nonetheless.

Mickey shoved his wallet and phone in his pockets and locked up his apartment. Maybe Ernie would have the good roast beef sandwiches today.

His thoughts about dinner plans subsided as he noticed the guy waiting for the elevator.

Mickey had seen the ginger around. He was hard to miss -- fuckin' tall, always going out for runs early in the morning in short shorts and coming back all sweaty, always had a million fucking people coming and going from his apartment. They lived on opposite ends of the hall, but Mickey had never actually spoken to him before.

Mandy had given her brother lots of shit for acting so goddamn unapproachable and that's why he has no friends. Mickey didn't want to be friends with everyone, but he wouldn't mind spending some time with the hot red-head down the hall... eventually.

But he was waiting for the elevator with him right now. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact in fear that it would lead to small talk which would then lead Mickey to inevitably embarrass himself. He couldn't blow his shot. Mandy did the small talk, not him. He took out his phone and scrolled through Instagram even though none of the photos were loading.

He hardly looked up when the elevator arrived and he stepped into it, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. Maybe it was an unreasonable amount of space, but it still wasn't enough for Mickey. He could still smell the guy's cologne. And it was infuriatingly attractive.

"Ground floor?" The man's voice practically sent heat down Mickey's spine. This was going to be a long ride.

"Uh, yeah." Nice, Mick. Not embarrassing at all.

"Great." It hung in the air, a tinge of awkwardness to it.

Out of the corner of his eye Mickey could see the the man leaning against the elevator wall, crossing his ankles as he not-so-subtly stared Mickey's direction.

Mickey was running out of things to check on the his phone and he was about to give in and finally make eye contact when he felt a shift. Then an ungodly clanging of metal. And a stop.

Fuck.

He glanced up at the dial. Sure enough they were stopped between floors, and not at all near the ground.

"The fuck?"

"What?" The red-head locked confused eyes with Mickey's.

"We're stopped. Why the fuck are we stopped?"

"Hm," The guy poked around at the open doors button and nothing happened. "I don't know."

All hopes of positive small talk was out the window as Mickey went into full panic mode. He did not like small, confined spaces -- which happened to be exactly what his current predicament entailed.

"You open the doors!" Mickey practically shrieked.

"Why me!?" The attractive guy spit back.

"You work out and shit -- do I look like I could pry those fuckers apart?"

"Well..." The red-head took a moment to size up Mickey's smaller form. "Yes, you do actually- but these doors are heavy as fuck. We don't have like super strength."

"Fuck you."

"Uh, fuck me!?"

"Yeah, fuck you. Not even tryin' and now we're both going to fuckin' die in here. Any last words, Red?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're not going to die. Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Don't you think you're being a little too calm considering we're stuck?"

"Oh. You're freaking out."

"No shit I'm freaking out, Sherlock." Mickey ran his hands down his face. This was not fucking happening to him right now.

"Hey, take deep breaths."

"Can't. Gonna die." Mickey gasped.

"Well, if you can't breathe, you're definitely going to pass out."

Mickey shot him panicked eyes.

"Hey, hey it's okay. Just look at me."

Mickey could do that.

"Copy me. In-" He inhaled, chest expanding.

"Out-" Mickey felt his breath on his face. In any circumstance, a stranger breathing on him would warrant a punch in the gut, but now it was more grounding than anything else. They repeated that motion a few times.

"Good. See, you can breath."

"What are you? A fuckin' doctor?" Mickey huffed a laugh in disbelief.

"Been to enough," he chuckled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. But, uh- look, see, I'll hit the emergency button and someone will come get us soon. It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Got stuck in one of these with my sister when I was little, kinda scary at first but we were out in practically no time. She sang to me to pass the time, but I take it you don't want me to sing to you?"

That earned a full-bellied laugh from Mickey, "Not yet."

The man grinned goofily like a golden retriever.

They were silent for a moment.

"So, uh, what's your name?" The red-head asked, gazing curiously at Mickey.

Mickey just stared back at him.

"Your name?" He repeated gently.

"Mickey."

"Mickey," He said it so soft like a prayer. "I like it. I'm Ian."

He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn't Ian. Ian was fitting, though. Ian was good.

--

Ian had hit the emergency button a few times for good measure while Mickey had tried to call Mandy to no success. They settled onto the floor, leaning against opposite walls, feet nearly colliding in the center. Neither made a move to completely avoid that.

After Mickey had calmed down a bit, they fell into bouts of comfortable conversation and comfortable silence.

"I thought you just hated me." Ian mumbled after a bit.

"What I hate is being trapped here." Mickey stared at the walls threatening to enclose around them. He closed his eyes so he didn't start to panic again.

"Even before this."

"Oh?" That was news to Mickey. That was never his intent.

"Yeah, I always see you around, but you never seem to see me." Ian looked to the ground when he said it.

"I've seen ya plenty. You're the dork with the short ass shorts."

Ian smirked, "I guess I am."

"Hard to miss, man."

"You too. I've wanted to say hi for like months, but you always looked like you were ready to snap me in half or something. I kinda like my limbs in tact."

Mickey swiped his thumb against his nose and sniffed, embarrassed, "Sister says I scare everyone away. Used to be a good thing."

"Sister... wait, wait, wait, hold up. You're Mandy's brother, aren't you?"

"You know Mandy? Oh god, you're not banging her, are you?" That would throw a wrench in his plans.

"Oh god, no!" Ian threw his hands up in a mock surrender like that was the most repulsive thing he's ever heard.

"Something wrong with my sister?" Mickey grew defensive. She may be a lot to handle at times, but she was still his sister.

"No, no, she's great! 'm just not into... well, uh- I'm- let's just say that if you had a brother, maybe I'd be banging him." He grimaced.

Watching Ian stumble over his words after being so confident about everything else was a bit amusing.

"Oh -- cool." Mickey wasn't used to such obvious disclosures about sexuality with strangers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mickey avoided all eye contact.

"So?"

Ian paused until Mickey was able to look at him again.

"So, what?"

"Do you have any brothers?" A playful flicker in Ian's eyes made it obvious that he was just being a little shit now.

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't answer my question still."

"Yeah, I have brothers, but they'd uh- let's just say definitely not be into that."

"And you're... not not into that?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. His lack of denial was basically a confession and they both knew it.

Ian smirked and knocked the toes of their shoes together.

--

Help announced itself to be coming soon over the tiny intercom embedded in the elevator. Sometime shortly after that, Ian had made his way over to the wall next to Mickey's, rather than across.

"Where were you going tonight?" Ian asked, turning to fully face Mickey.

"Nowhere." Nowhere interesting at least.

"Really? So you just take an elevator down to nowhere?"

"Alright, smart ass, I needed to get dinner. Gonna be a late dinner now that's for sure, fuckin' starving."

"Shit."

"What about you? Got a hot date or something?" Mickey eyed him up and down. Ian's outfit wasn't fancy by any means, but he still looked damn good in it.

"Oh, I wish," he winked, "Just going on a walk to clear my head. But this is working just as well."

"Good for you, man. My head is fuller than ever."

"What're you thinking about?" Ian's heavy breath practically bounced off his face. His gaze flickered to Ian's pouting lips. This was ridiculous.

Kissing you. Kissing you. Kissing you. "Nothing."

"Riiiight." Ian's eyes mimicked the same trail that Mickey's had just followed.

"Yup."

Ian scooted closer to Mickey and he swore his heart was beating so loud that even Ian could hear it. If he could, he made no indication. Instead, he eyed Mickey's hand resting on the floor. Gently, careful not to spook him, he caressed Mickey's fingers, nearing his tattooed knuckles.

Mickey fought the urge to yank his hand away. No one ever touched him so delicately, so sweetly. He figured that Ian would have guessed that, seeing his crude tattoos, but he wasn't acting like this was strange. So Mickey let him.

"Fuckin' hate them." Mickey murmured, watching Ian's fingertips tracing over the back of his hand.

Ian frowned.

"The tattoos."

"They're you. I'm sure they have a story."

"Wish I could forget it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a pair of tits on my shoulder."

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" Mickey pictured literal tits growing out of the man's back.

"Here, look," Ian turned, pulling his shirt up, revealing an insanely toned and insanely freckled back. Surely he was not about to be flashed in an elevator. But sure enough, tattooed on his shoulder was a pair of double-D's.

"Shit! Dude, what the fuck is up with that?" Mickey laughed.

Yeah, this made him feel better. At least he didn't have fucking titties tattooed on his knuckles, though he was sure someone in his family must have something like that. They're fucking idiots like that. Like Ian, apparently. But Ian was good.

"It was supposed to be my mom." Ian winced, pulling his shirt back down to cover it again.

"Mom must've been a banger." Mickey joked, still hardly containing his laughter.

"Ugh," Ian groaned dramatically. "Never gonna live that one down."

He threw his hands back on the ground, near Mickey's but not touching this time.

Experimentally and slowly, so slowly, Mickey hooked his fingers with Ian's and rubbed his thumb against Ian's hand. It was calloused, but so soft. It was a movement so gentle he hardly recognized himself, completely contradictory to the message literally written across his hands.

He was practically holding hands with a man in an elevator. Oh, if dear dad could see him now.

Moving out of his hell house with Mandy had been a good step, but it had taken Mickey years to unlearn his self-hate, allow himself to be. He still wasn't perfect, and he still felt years behind. But with Ian, it felt normal. It felt right and warm.

Right then, he felt the elevator shift again. He tightened his grip on Ian's hand. Ian returned the hold. If he was going to die, at least he wasn't going to die alone.

Mickey realized that they weren't falling down, but rather moving upwards.

They released their hands and leapt up to their feet as the door dinged open, revealing a small staff of maintenance personnel, not looking at all concerned that two men had just been trapped inside for an unspecified amount of time.

"Fuckin' finally!" Mickey ran out. He resisted the urge to drop to the floor and kiss the ground. He was dramatic, but he wasn't that dramatic.

Ian thanked the maintenance people then hurried along beside Mickey. They weren't on their floor, but they sure as hell weren't about to take the elevator again after all that.

"Hey, Mickey, wanna come back to my place? I think I still have some leftover lasagna if you're still hungry."

Mickey checked the time. Yeah, Ernie's place was definitely closed by now. Plus he really did just want to go back to Ian's. He glanced up to see Ian in almost full puppy-dog eyes. The dork was needlessly persuasive, he'd give him that.

"Yeah, sure. I could eat." He grinned like an idiot.

Ian nodded his head towards the stairwell, holding the door open for Mickey, who obediently followed up the steps.

--

Ian's apartment wasn't too different than Mickey and Mandy's, mirrored and maybe smaller, but it looked oddly inviting and definitely way more lived in -- almost too much décor and family photos hung up around the space.

"Uh, make yourself comfortable," Ian called as he rummaged through the cabinets, grabbing a couple plates to reheat some food for Mickey and himself.

Mickey was no stranger to feigning confidence in unfamiliar locations, but this felt different, more genuine. He actually respected Ian, the man having been kind and patient with him in a less than ideal situation.

He sat himself on the barstool at Ian's countertop and watched him. The gorgeous man who he had been eyeing in secret for months, who had helped him through a small panic attack, who had held his hand and traced his tattoos like they were art. Like Mickey was art.

"So, Bowie, huh?" Ian leaned against the counter, waiting out the timer on the microwave.

"What?"

"Your shirt," he pointed, and Mickey looked down.

"Oh, yeah. He's cool as fuck. Dope music."

"Got great hair, too."

"You would think so."

"Self-love, baby."

"Good for you." But there was no edge in his voice.

Ian smiled. The microwave beeped and they settled in, eating together with nothing but the awkward clanging of silverware and chewing. Mickey was too fucking starving and too fucking tired to care about formalities to give a shit at this point.

"Bet you didn't think you'd spend your night eating lasagna with a David Bowie look-alike, huh?" Ian teased over a mouthful of pasta.

"You wish, man."

"Hey, it's at least a little true."

"Yeah, you're both fuckin' aliens."

"Maybe so, but at least we're hot."

They both smiled around their forks, glancing over at each other a little too frequently with nothing but fondness.

--

Ian collected their plates when they were done, taking them over to the sink to wash them later. Mickey got up and followed him into the center of the kitchen, still sipping on his beer before setting it on the counter to his right.

In a move that shocked Ian, and even himself, Mickey moved into Ian's space and pressed his chest against Ian's back. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, feeling up the plains and softness of his stomach, feeling his breath hitch and his heart beat faster. Mickey's warm breath bounced off of Ian's neck and back onto his own face.

Ian sighed and placed his hands over Mickey's again. He leaned his head back onto Mickey's shoulder for a moment before wiggling free from Mickey's grip enough to turn around and face him, carding one of his hands through Mickey's dark hair.

"Mickey." He said it so soft. With so much admiration. Mickey couldn't take it anymore. He leaned up and pulled Ian's head down so they were the same height.

"Fuck, c'mere," he murmured, lips practically touching Ian's with the words.

Ian pressed their lips together. For all his gentle touches throughout the night, his kiss was anything but. Like he needed him to breathe.

Ian pushed him backwards towards the living room, stumbling over each others' feet in the process. Mickey greedily pulled down on Ian's neck, desperate not to let him go. Ian smiled into it and dropped backwards onto the couch cushions, pulling Mickey on top of him, making out like dumb teenagers.

--

Eventually, they settled and Mickey rested his head on Ian's chest while Ian rubbed his back and head comfortingly. Truthfully, he was beginning to panic a bit. He hadn't liked anyone in awhile, and Ian was very hard to not like.

"Are you good?"

Fuckin' mind reader.

"I don't know." Smooth, Mick.

"You don't know what?" Ian probed gently.

Mickey sighed, "How to do this," he answered honestly. There was no point in lying to Ian.

Ian kissed Mickey's forehead, "We can do this any way you want, alright? No rush, no pressure."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Ian scratched Mickey's head for a moment, "I've been waiting for you for awhile, Mick, I'll wait for however long you want."

Mickey leaned into his touch and then kissed his shoulder, "I want you, this."

"Me too." They smiled into each other. Safe together.

--

Neither made a move to push things further for the night. Ian had flicked on the tv to the same channel Mickey had on earlier, the Jurassic Park marathon still playing. After whatever movie was on now, Mickey decided he should head home. He was utterly exhausted after the day, and as much as he liked Ian, he didn't want to pass out in the guy's apartment -- though he was sure Ian wouldn't mind at this point, kind bastard.

After Ian had pulled Mickey into one last embrace, Mickey wretched open Ian's door, only to come face to face with his sister, makeup smudged and heels in hand after her night out.

She gasped way louder than fucking necessary, "You slut!"

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled pushing past her to head back to his own apartment.

"See ya later, Mick!" Ian called down the hall. Mickey didn't respond, but Ian took no offense. To be fair, he had just been caught red-handed by his very dramatic bitch of a sister.

Mandy grinned and looked between Mickey's retreating form and Ian's blushing face. "Oh my god, Ian! I knew it!"

"Hi, Mands." He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck.

She gave a cheeky, knowing wave goodbye and took off barefoot after Mickey, "You fucker! I want all the details!"

"You ain't gettin' 'em, bitch!" He stormed inside, but left the door open for her behind him.

Mandy threw her shoes on the floor and met up with him in the kitchen, punching his arm lazily so he spilled his newly-opened beer down his hand. "The fuck?!"

"I'm so proud of you!" She made grabby hands at Mickey in attempts to smush his cheeks, but he weaseled out of there quick enough to avoid her gross hands. She may be fuckin' drunk, but she was still quick.

"Yeah, will well ya stop screaming it from the rooftops. Ian's gonna think I'm a fuckin' loser."

"Awww," She chased after him as he headed down the hall, "You are a loser, but that's besides the point! I've been waiting for this for weeks!"

"Night!" Mickey shut his bedroom door in Mandy's face. She'd get over it in a minute. Hell she was probably well on her way to passing out already. Maybe she'd get some details out of him tomorrow.

But tonight -- he reveled in the fact that he spent the night making out with his very kind, very dorky, very hot red-headed neighbor.

--

And when Mandy eventually moved out from their apartment and in with her girlfriend, Mickey had absolutely no problem finding a new red-headed roommate.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

[navalcriminalimagines]

Hi! First of all love your work 🤌🏽🥺✨ AMAZING

And secondly

I was hoping to request a Barbra x reader where the reader is young (of age ofc ) Professional Olympic Gold medalist Vollyball player and the team finds out they are dating?

Like they see him at one of there games and they just can’t believe Barbra is with them?

Hope you are having a amazing night ! I’m currently on a long bus ride home.

Thanks a lot sweetie!!! 🥺 I really hope I’ve done a good job and that’s what you wanted! I hope your bus ride went well!! Love 💕

Rafael Barba was never into sports. Either participating or just watching, it’s not his thing. Until he met you. Well, he’s not much into sports in the matter of speaking, he’s just really into you. That’s how he ended up in Brazil during summer 2016, to support you while you competed at the Olympic Games with your Volleyball team.

You and Rafael weren’t officially dating back then, but your mother’s health prevented her from making the trip with you, and without really thinking about it, Rafael offered to come with you. And he’s been the best supporter you could have imagined.

Your first kiss happened right after you and your team won the Gold medal. Rafael felt so happy for you, when you jumped in his arms, his lips immediately found their way to yours.

Until now, you still consider this the best summer you ever had.

And Rafael never left your side. He comes to your games every time he can make it, he helps you train, he takes care of you when your body gives up a bit. You couldn’t have dreamt of a better boyfriend than Rafael Barba.

“Is everything ready for tomorrow?” He asked, checking on your bags.

“I think so. Is your mum still coming?”

“Of course. It’s the first time she can come to one of your games, she isn’t missing it for the world,” he smiled, hugging you from behind.

“I can’t believe it’s my last game,” you said, looking at your gear. Rafael’s hands were resting on your stomach, with your own hands above his.

“You are careful, okay? I agreed about you playing, because it’s important for you but I don’t want anything to happen to our little one,”

You smiled. You still can’t believe you’re pregnant. You found that a week prior, and you obviously considered about not playing but what a better to end your volleyball career than during a game at the Madison Square Garden. “They’re going to be fine, baby. We have a whole plan with the coach, I won’t do much,” you turned around to face Rafael, your arms around his neck and his, in your back. You softly kissed him.

“Are you sure you want this to be your last game? You can come back when our baby will be born and a bit older,”

“I’ve always told myself that once I’m a mother, I’d stop being an athlete. This career asks too much,”

“Whatever you do, whatever you choose, I’m so proud of you. You know that?” Rafael kissed your forehead, “and dios mio, thank you for choosing me to do that with,” your boyfriend has been overwhelmed since you brought him the news. He gave up the idea of having a family a long time ago, but you brought it back to life. Just like you brought Rafael back to life.

He made sure you felt relax and that you had a good night sleep. Tomorrow was a real big day.

Since it was Friday, Rafael had to spend a part of the day at the office. He had a meeting with the SVU squad to talk about a case.

“Come on Rollins, would you have thought about inviting Barba on a Friday night?” Sonny defended himself. He surprised the squad with tickets to a volleyball game at the MSG, but he didn’t count Barba in.

“No but only because I don’t get along with him. You are you, Carisi,”

“Well I’m sorry, okay? But you’ll see I was right not to count him in,”

An hour later, Rafael arrived to the precinct. Sonny didn’t waste time to prove his point. “Barba, are you free tonight?” He asked the ADA.

“No. Why? Want to ask me on a date, detective?”

Carisi laughed and looked at Rollins with a proud face. “Would you be interested?” Sonny played along.

“You’re good looking, Carisi. But not my type, you’re too—noodling,”

“Should I be offended?”

“Is Liv there?” Barba didn’t answer but he had a smirk on his face.

You didn’t want to let your team about your pregnancy and your retirement before the game. Whether the team win or lose tonight, it’s definitely a win for you. You won everything.

Luckily, you were barely 7 weeks pregnant, so your stomach was still pretty flat. That’s something you didn’t have to hide. An hour before the game started, you had a text from Rafael, letting you know he was there with his mother.

“Lucia, hi! Nice to see you,” you hugged your mother-in-law.

“I’m happy to finally see you play. How are you mija?”

“I’m good and you?” You moved on to kiss Rafael, but it was a very chaste kiss, he never been confortable with PDA in front of his mother. It always makes you smile. You took them to their places, right behind your team bench.

“Be careful and have fun mi amor. I love you both so much,” Rafael whispered to you before you went back to the locker rooms.

The atmosphere in the Garden was amazing. You focused on your game but you couldn’t help but to look at Rafael from time to time. The squad was up in the audience, everyone was having a lot of fun.

“Gosh, there’s a guy behind the New York team that looks exactly like Barba,” Sonny noticed to Rollins. The detective immediately tried to look where Sonny was pointing.

“Dude! That’s Barba!” She exclaimed. Rollins let the rest of the squad know.

[From Liv] : Best seat I see, Rafa... ;)

[From Rafael] : Discovered. :) I’ll see you after the game?

Although they noticed Rafael, none of the squad believed what they saw once your team won. After a celebration, they saw their sarcastic and cynical ADA in the way they never saw him before. They saw you jumping in Rafael’s arms and kissing him deeply.

“The squad’s here. I guess it’s the night of full disclosure,” he let you know.

You had to most amazing smile Rafael never saw before. He wanted to cry on the spot, he never felt this happy in his life.

After a short celebration with Rafael, you went back to the locker room with your team and it was the time to let them know. The coach made a very proud speech, and she invited you to talk.

“I’m just going to see how things are. Tonight was my last game with you. I’m pregnant,” you cried of happiness, “I’m going to have a baby!” All the girls jumped from happiness for you, they congratulated you. Some of them cried too but it was nothing but joy in the locker room.

Of course they wanted to congratulate Rafael too. He’s been awesome with them too, some of your best friends were in your team.

“Congratulations, daddy!” Your very best friend jumped on Rafael’s back. The squad and Lucia looked at him, confused. You were right behind, he extended his hand to you and kissed your temple when your body hit his.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend and the woman who’s caring my child. Mami, you’re going to be an abuelita,”

Lucia cried from happiness. It was finally happening. His son found the love of his life and he’s going to be a father, everything was right in this world.

“Lucky bastard, he’s dating my athlete crush,” Sonny smiled at Fin.

[themonkeycabal]

WandaVision Spoilers

Wherein I watch it and have a few comments, but no super deep thoughts. Obviously there are spoilers. 

I'm excited for some fresh Marvel content. It feels like it's been a hundred years. Damn it, 2020.

The only thing I know about WandaVision are the two trailers, and that's it.

Oh, they gave us two episodes right away. Thanks, Disney! Let's see what happens.

Episode 1:

lol, the theme song. And oh man, a laugh track.

So, very Bewitched meets Dick Van Dyke Show right off the bat.

"My wife and her flying saucers." Har har har.

Good set design. Very period. They raided every prop house in a hundred miles.

Hey so, did Bettany and Olsen study 50s-60s sitcoms and the awkward stilted dialogue and physical staging? (Not a knock on them, it's like, throwing me back to all the shows in syndication that I never wanted to watch when I was home sick from school or something, and yet, it was all the was on until cartoons later. Yes, I'm old enough to remember life before ubiquitous cable/satellite tv. Though, we were also poor and late to jump on the cable train.)

Legit question, do people still play bridge? My grandparents had a bridge set growing up, but honestly I never remember anybody ever playing it. My mom was more likely to play Dealer McDope. Yes, that was a real game. My parents were hippies and ran a head shop when I was very little. My formative influences were a little ... something.

"That embarrassing display of beatnik enthusiasm." "I wore a turtleneck." Okay, that was good and deserved a better punch from the laugh track, guys!

I like “My wife’s European” from the guy with the accent. lol

"You move at the speed of sound, and I can make a pen float through the air. Who needs to abbreviate?" Heh.

Honestly, while I appreciate the dedication to the conventions of 60s sitcoms, most 60s sitcoms were not very good (full disclosure, though, I don't really like sitcoms anyway, so I’m probably biased), and while the sitcom awkward setup was very on brand, it's also awkward in a way I don't like. Embarrassing humor hurts me in my brain and my soul. 12 minutes in and I'm sure somebody needs to get to a point here. 

I don't meant to sound impatient, but, really, this was not a TV era I ever particularly enjoyed. I did not love Lucy. Shocking, I know, but there, I said it. The Honeymooners? More like the Honeysnoozers, amiright? There were some things that survived in syndication for far, far too long. But, I digress …

I like Vision trying to figure out what exactly he does for a living. The bits of confusion are all good, but the hamming it up is not something I mostly care for. I acknowledge this is a matter of personal taste, and is no commentary on the acting, because honestly, they’re managing it pretty much spot on. 

The sing along. This is all so awkward. I know it's meant to be, but man.

Yay a strange turn. A turn of strangeness. Good strangeness. I think maybe if they layered some of that in a little more, Wanda and Vision having these blank spots, and not made me suffer through so much sitcomness, I would have liked this episode a little better. Again, a+ follow through on the tropes, but I didn't want to really watch a 60s sitcom with one minute of weird. Needed More Weird!

Good looking end credits.

Episode 2:

Okay, let's move things along. Please don't make me watch another full episode of sitcom with a smattering of strange.

Oh no, I can't skip the 'previously on' of the episode that I just watched 30 seconds ago. Disney! Fix that!

Oh no times two, an awkward sitcom scene. Though, we've moved up more firmly into the mid-60s. So, progress.

Lol, okay, the animated opening credits are excellent. Really quality. Somebody gif those stat!

Man, do they have a different set every episode? I don't mean the set dec, but actual set layouts. That's not a little thing. It's just a three room setup, but still.

Phew, only had to wait about 5 minutes for some 'odd' this time. A toy helicopter in color. Hey, remember Pleasantville? That was a good movie. I haven't seen that in ages.

"Can I give you a bit of friendly advice?" "Is it about the way I'm dressed?" "Yes, but it's too late for that." Heh. Agnes is a delight.

Dottie — oh hi Emma Caulfield! I haven't seen her in forever.

Man, I just had crazy deja vu, during this awkward neighborhood watch scene, but then I remembered, I did actually see this clip before … somewhere? Wait, did I? Now I'm doubting myself. Somebody tell me they did release a bit of that clip at some point. I don’t think it was in either of the trailers. So weird. 

Oh, no, gum is gumming up Vision's works. Har Har.

Weirdness! The radio is talking to Wanda! "Who's doing this to you, Wanda?" Good weirdness. Creepy weirdness. I like.

Hydra was in the watch business, was it? Well, I guess everybody needs a day job. I mean, Howard Stark made toasters. Are these ads a clue? Hmmm. 

Oh, no, Vision with his gummed up works is going to ruin the talent show that is the biggest fundraiser of the year for the children! Gum apparently makes him drunk?

The talent show is funny. But, it's a little too long. 

"Is that how mirrors work?" lol.

"That really gummed up my works, didn't it?" That joke crashed to earth like 12 minutes ago, my guy.

Oh noes, Wanda is suddenly and mysteriously pregnant. Followed by strange banging and and a creepy beekeeper crawling out of the sewers. As happens in the suburbs so often. No, though, it's good creepy. Then she rewinds to a more pleasant moment. And we go to color.

Okay, are we going outside the tv world? Oh, alas, we’re not. How are we at end credits with 7 mins left? Geez, come on. So short, these episodes.

So, is Wanda imagining a tv world where Vision is alive? Or trapped by some outside forces trying to keep her docile in a perfect sitcom world where Vision is alive? Did Sokovia also suffer through cheaply acquired runs of American sitcoms in syndication during Wanda's childhood? Is the mind stone somehow messing with them both? So many questions. Very little to go on at this point, but so far this feels more heavily Wanda’s POV than Vision’s.

Anyway, I mostly liked it, but I also feel like it was slow to get to a point. This is a 9 episode series, and they burned two with drips and drops of maybe something weird is happening. I mean, we know something weird is happening, but 80% of this was a lot of sitcom filler. I get we needed set up, but these episodes needed to move things along a bit tightly. I guess we'll see how this plays out, but so far I'm a little let down. Not much happened. And the episodes are short, so I don't feel super engaged yet.

I guess my thing is, that while I get wanting to play in the tropes, I also think they’re too attached to trying to really faithfully recreate them, and as a result, so far, they’re not really telling their own story within them. But, it is only the first two episodes so far. We’ve got time and I don’t mean to be harsh. 

[taylorinthetardis]

Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic

So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!

There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.

Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.

This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.

Wallflowers

It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.

There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.

“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”

“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”

“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.

“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.

“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.  

“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”

He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”

“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.

Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.    

He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?

“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”

“Holy shit, is that…”

“Mira!”

“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”

“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”

“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.

I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

hello hello hello!  and welcome to Season 12 of Supernatural. 

I admit that initially I STRUGGLED WITH SEASON 12.  I LOATHED the British Men of Letters (other than Lady Antonia Bevell; her hot working mom energy can get it); I have...mixed feelings about Mary; overall it was not a stellar season for me the first go-round.  HOWEVER I shall now give it a second chance,  and look for the subtext within the bad (and if my theory tracks, there will be much subtext as...there is much bad).  Maybe I’ll even develop Ketch appreciation.  **ONWARDS ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH, MY FRIENDS:

When we last left Dean, I neglected to mention that Amara brought his mom back (this is how much I repressed Mary Winchester I guess?)  We cut to Mary, confused, in a nightgown (I get this is part of the character and that’s why she is wearing it sO wE kNOw iTS rEAlLy MaRY WinCHEstEr because of her nightgown and not Sam Smith’s exquisite face, but honestly WHY - LIKE DID SHE WEAR THE DAMN THING IN HEAVEN THE ENTIRE TIME TOO?).

DEAN [breathing heavily] 

Mom. Listen to me. Your name – your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.

MARY 

How do you know all that?

DEAN 

Dad told me. March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater – Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh, Mulroney's and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that – that you met –

MARY 

John Winchester.

DEAN 

August 19, 1975, you were married... in Reno. Your idea. A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.

***DEAN DESCRIBING EVERY DAMN DETAIL OF THIS HAS MURDERED ME.  Also, I know John Winchester “told him the story,” but something about this retelling - these are NOT John Winchester’s words (other than maybe “big Marine”).  The emotions, the feelings, the “you talked and he was cute” Dean is describing is Dean’s retelling, the version he created in his mind of this damn meet-cute, this little love story he played over and over in his head, and that makes me feel warm and tingly and also want to ingest sharp knives.  

***Everyone already knows about the damn Zeppelin reference but just in case you wanted to be tortured, please recall that later on we will get

THIS FUCKING SHIT

Nothing to see here other than Dean using a reference from this LOVE STORY on Cas.  I HATE it here in super hell.  Next rounds on you, Sam.

Anyway, Mary has caught on:

I paused here just now because I had a tHoUGHt.  This season is all about exploring Dean and Sam in their role as sons (this is discussed at the SDCC panel prior to the season; btw they are all free on Prime and I recommend watching before you start each new season for little “reveals” behind some of the plot lines).  We know Sam has no relationship to Mary really, he was a baby when she died, but Dean was a little boy - with a personality, character traits, identifying characteristics that his mother probably knew like the back of her hand.  That’s why my first run-in with Mary left a bad taste in mouth during this season - LIKE THIS IS YOUR KID, and there is NO inkling or recognition until THIS moment?  In a show that just spent an entire season exploring the “unexplained connection” between Dean and GODS SISTER, there no immediate “OH” from his own mother?!

But then I realized why she only connected at this very moment.  This particular moment - and not the moment where he lists the factual details about her before the story of the night she met John.  That little story with all those cute details - that’s the part of Dean that Mary knew before she died - when that part was ALL of Dean.  Before hunting, before John’s quest for revenge turned him into the person he is today, before he saw himself as a blunt little instrument.  That’s why initially Mary has no recognition that this is her son - because the Dean she knew was sensitive, and kind, and OPEN, and liked love stories, and laughing, and warm hugs and maybe flowers. Because if you think about it WE DONT KNOW THAT DEAN.  We only know Dean AMD. (After Mary’s Death).

*****************************************************************************************************

So maybe Mary represents Dean Before Mary’s Death, and whatever part of that Dean remains, no matter how deep he has been buried.  The part that connects with people; the part that doesn’t want to be alone.  The part that helped Amara.  The part that loves Cas.  And that’s why Amara brought her back.  

*****************************************************************************************************

Ok, if I think of it this way, I may like Mary a little better now.

BUT ALSO MY BABY:

Cut to Cas.

[THE MAN WALKS OVER TO THE EDGE OF THE CRATER MADE BY THE LANDING AND SEES CASTIEL PULLING HIMSELF OUT.]

MAN 

Holy mother.

[CASTIEL STANDS UP AND LOOKS AROUND]

CASTIEL 

Where am I?

MAN

Uh...Earth?

CASTIEL 

No. How far am I from Lebanon, Kansas?

MAN 

Uh... Th-three hours, maybe. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Who – What are you, man?

[CASTIEL WALKS TOWARDS THE MAN AND TOUCHES HIM ON THE FOREHEAD. THE MAN DROPS TO THE GROUND. CASTIEL LEAVES HIM THERE AS HE DRIVES OFF IN THE TRUCK]

***I spy a Season 11 random parallel

And Cas says, “Earth - 

***Also, I often wonder if in his mind’s inner GPS, Cas bases distances on how far he is from Dean. 

In the meantime, Bad Things Are Happening to Sam.

***Toni Bevell, don’t join the British Men of Letters you’re so sexy hahah

Other than noting that this is yet another too oft- repeated Sam, the Victim, Always Gets Tortured scenario, I see no point in recapping these parts.

I will just continue to post Toni Bevell hotness for these portions of the episode. Ok?  Ok.  You’re welcome.

BACK TO THE BUNKER:

I already posted this sweet baby reunion in my final Season 11 analysis/recap, but lets see it again at another angle and from Mary’s perspective CAUSE CLEARLY she has...*thoughts*

Poor Cas had no idea he was about to MEET THE PARENT 

It melts my little heart that Dean uses Cas’s full name to introduce him to people.  Especially members of his family who are trying to kill him.

Anyway, then we get a much longed for gem of typical Cas deadpan:

(*I still miss Casifer a little bit though*)

And then we have 

A MOMENT OF CONNECTION!  

At the SDCC panel, Misha specifically noted that both Mary and Cas are outsiders, so this tracks. 

They head to the garage:

[Exhaling sharply, Mary walks towards Baby. She runs her hand lightly over the car.]

MARY This was John's car. Oh, she's still beautiful.

DEAN Hell, yeah, she is.

MARY Hi, sweetheart. Remember me?

[MARY LEANS DOWN AND LOOKS INTO THE CAR SMILING. SHE STARTS LOOKING AT THE FRONT SEAT BUT HER EYES AND HER THOUGHTS LINGER ON THE BACK SEAT. DEAN LEANS DOWN LOOKING AT THE INTERIOR OF THE CAR WITH PRIDE. DEAN LOOKS AT HIS MOM AND REALIZES SHE’S HAVING VERY SPECIFIC MEMORIES OF TIME IN THE BACK SEAT. DEAN LOOKS AROUND THE CAR, AND LOOKS AT HIS MOM.]

***this is where you truly see that Sam Smith is a genius because she took those directions and put them all into THIS:

And then THIS:

DEAN 

Oh…

[MARY LOOKS UP AT DEAN. DEAN REALIZES HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN CONCEIVED IN THAT CAR, STANDS UP QUICKLY AND LOOKS OVER THE CAR. DEAN SWALLOWS HARD, AND GLANCES AT CASTIEL WHO GIVES HIM A QUIZZICAL LOOK.]

DEAN 

We should go.

***At this time I would like to remind everyone that Cas is also generally in the back seat of this car.  

MOVING ON

Meanwhile-

Back at the bunker, Cas is Continuing to Connect with his boyfriend’s mother:

[EXTERIOR DAY; INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS AND THE NOISE OF VIDEO GAMES ARE HEARD. THE CAMERA PANS TO MARY WHO’S WATCHING THE SCENE. CASTIEL IS PICKING UP COFFEE.]

CASTIEL 

Thank you.

[CASTIEL TAKES THE COFFEE TO MARY AND SITS DOWN.]

CASTIEL

This must be difficult for you. I remember my first moments on Earth. It was jarring.

MARY 

One word for it. I grew up with Hunters. I've heard of people coming back from the dead before. But to actually do it... after 30 years. A lot's changed.

[MARY LOOKS AROUND.]

MARY A lot.

Cas:

This is usually a look Reserved For Dean, so its interesting Cas is looking at Mary here [they also weirdly joked about Cas hitting on Mary at the SDCC panel and now I'm giggling because if Mary represents the soft part of Dean this all makes PERFECT SENSE).

BONUS

Actual footage of Sam in super hell

The Cas/Mary bonding worked BTW:

[INTERIOR: GREGORY IS SITTING IN FRONT OF HIS DESK WITH CASTIEL, DEAN, AND MARY STANDING BEFORE HIM.]

DEAN 

So, you dug the bullet out of his leg, no questions asked?

GREGORY 

She offered me 100 grand.

MARY 

And you took it?

GREGORY 

Student loans were a bitch, okay?

[ANGRILY CASTIEL STARTS TOWARDS GREGORY.]

DEAN 

Cas! Cas! Cas! Don't hurt him. Not yet.

**Disclosure: I do not accept the “Cass” spelling and take creative license to change it in the script whenever it appears**

GREGORY 

All right, look, she didn't give me her name. When we were done, the driver bailed, I got paid, and then some other chick shows up, and they all drive away.

MARY 

And that's everything you know?

GREGORY 

(insincerely) Yeah. Totally.

****Um, Mom that’s my boyfriend you don’t order him around like tha-

Oh, well, ok then.

***This is important, because Cas doesn’t obey anyone (other than Dean) blindly ever since he invented free will and all that.  Hence Dean’s surprised/impressed look to Mary above.  

Meanwhile:

I recall that I spent most of my first watch of Season 12 gushing over Toni Bevell, so I’m glad to know this won’t be changing.  You’ve been warned.

Next up, Sam is again sex tortured, Cas is a Helpful Boyfriend, and for some reason, Rick Springfield.  

[frostedfaves]

First Date

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Requested by @imnotasuperhero: I guess you want romance request?? Make it Steve and reader's first date that turn out a disaster 😂😂😂 Nothing like fluff and crack. ✨💕

warnings: brief vomiting at the end

A/N: this didn’t turn out to be the complete crack!fic I was going to go for but it is full of that tooth rotting fluff I promised @creepingwolfberry so...basically what I’m saying is you’re welcome lmao. also this took forever to write but I’m glad I got it out before Halloween!

-

You’re going on a date with Captain America. A date with Steve “I’ve been frozen for seven decades” Rogers. You find yourself wondering if this was a good idea, taking on a romantic role with a man who was so out of place in the current world. Then you remember the way his muscles subtly flexed under his tight shirt and the soft yet anxious expression as he waited for your response and yeah. This is going to be great.

Steve had invited you to be his date at a Halloween party/dance, and knowing it was his first time celebrating the holiday in the modern world, you wanted it to be a good one. You’d done one last check of your costume in the mirror just as your apartment buzzer went off. After confirming it was your date, you quickly ran to get your phone to slip into one of the pockets of your white dress, running back to the door when you heard a knock.

“Hey!” Steve greeted you as soon as he saw you, his eyes wandering over your body. “You look...much different than the last time I saw you, but still amazing.”

“Thanks! Jennifer’s Body,” you gestured to yourself in a flustered fashion. “I decided to go with her look earlier in the night, because I knew I wouldn’t feel like scrubbing off fake blood later.”

“Sounds gory.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, a frown settling on your features as you took in his long sleeved black tee and black pants. “You look almost the same. Where’s your costume?”

“Oh, in the trunk. It’s hard to drive with it on. So, are you ready to go?”

You nodded and he stepped back into the hallway as you came out, waiting until your door was locked to offer an arm to you. He walked you down to an impressive car that seemed not at all his style, opening the door for you with a charming smile before getting in the driver’s side.

“I apologize if I seem a little awkward tonight. This is my first date in quite some time, and I still have some things to figure out.” He breaks the silence at the first red light you come across, and you meet his eyes with a smile.

“That’s okay, Steve. If I’m being honest, I still have things to figure out myself.”

His shoulders seemed to relax a bit, his fingers loosening their grip on the steering wheel, and you couldn’t help but cheer yourself on a bit in your mind. Oh yeah, this is going great.

-

You were arriving about an hour after the event started, but were able to find a pretty decent parking spot. Steve asked you to wait while he jogged adorably around the car to open your door again, and you thanked him with a kiss on the cheek to see a pretty blush spread across his pale cheeks. You busied yourself with making sure your phone was silenced to avoid any date disruptions, turning back to Steve when you heard the trunk close.

“Are you ready to--oh my god.”

A laugh was spilling out of you before you could stop it, only getting louder the longer you looked at his costume addition, to the point where tears were threatening to break free. You felt bad for laughing when you noticed his confusion, but you couldn’t help it.

Steve was dressed as a Dorito.

“I’m so--I’m sorry,” you managed, gasping for air as you came down from the humor. “I’ve just never seen something so accurate.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned curiously, and you fought the urge to laugh again. “Sam said this was my best option, a costume that you would love to see me in.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. Look.” You did a quick Google search and handed your phone to Steve. “You’re a tortilla chip, babe.”

Your light chuckles died down as you realized Steve was completely silent, and you looked up to see a shy smile directed at you, framed by his rosy cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry.” He cleared his throat loudly as he gave your phone back, blushing even more when his hand touched yours. “I’ve never been called ‘babe’ before and I don’t know if it was because it came from you, but I really liked it.”

“Oh.” You busied yourself with tucking your phone away again, too shy to meet his eyes, but you quickly turned back when you noticed him adjusting the chip. “What are you doing?”

“Taking this off. I don’t want to be laughed at when we get in there.”

“You’re Captain America! You could easily break all of them in half. Besides…” Your hands covered his as you helped get his chip back in place over his torso. “It’d be weird to show up to a costume party with no costume.”

-

“Okay.” You stood up from the table with a grin, holding your hand out to Steve. “Let’s get out there.”

Steve took your hand as he stood, eyes nervously flickering over to the crowd for a second. “Full disclosure, I don’t know how to dance.”

“Why did you offer to take me to a dance if you don’t know how?” you asked with a lightly teasing smile.

“I never got the chance to before. Thought it would be nice to try.”

“Alright, let’s try.”

You pulled him into the crowd, picking a busy area so he didn’t feel too on-the-spot, but leaving enough room to avoid poking anyone in the eye with his costume. You’d come out in the middle of a slow song which he did well with, but the real challenge came with the faster songs.

“Ouch!” you cried out as Steve stepped on your foot for the third time in two minutes, followed by red cheeks and rushed apologies.

“I feel like we should stop. I keep hurting you.”

“We definitely should,” you huffed lightly as you adjusted your sore toes in your shoe. “But I’m determined to teach you some form of rhythm in the near future, Rogers.”

“Deal,” he laughs. “Are you hungry? I was thinking maybe we could find a quieter place to sit, somewhere I can get to know you without injuring you even more.”

You agreed, and the two of you set out to find a place that was still open for dine-in. You discovered a small hole-in-the-wall pizza place, ordering a personal size of your favorite and a large pepperoni and sausage for Steve.

“So,” you began when your server dropped the food off. “What would you like to know about me?”

“Everything, but that’s a lot to ask on the first date.” He laughs again, and you can’t help but smile at the way his eyes light up because of it. “So how about we start here...what makes you happy?”

“Wow, okay.”

“If it’s too invasive--”

“No, no!” You chuckled a bit. “Just didn’t think you were gonna go all Dr. Phil with it.”

“Dr. Phil?”

“I’ll send you some links, don’t worry,” you promised, taking a sip of your drink and clearing your throat. “In the meantime, let’s get deep!”

The two of you talked, laughed and ate the rest of your pizza until the restaurant started closing, and you were forced to walk back to Steve’s car. You watched him with an amused smile as he put his Dorito back in the trunk, becoming a bit shy again when he opened the car door for you. You were back in front of your apartment building in no time, way too soon for both of you.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight. I had fun, even though you tried to crush my feet,” you joked, grateful that he laughed along.

“I’m still very sorry about that, but I appreciate you sticking around anyway. Maybe our next date can be a dance class.”

“Are you saying you want to see me again, Rogers?” you teased, leaning in and gripping the front of his shirt to pull him toward you.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying” left his lips in a mumble as he placed a hand on your hip and closed the distance between you.

The kiss was everything you expected it to be, pleasant with you in the lead because Steve was still figuring it out as he went along. When you finally pulled away, you had one arm around his neck and both of his were framing your waist. You grinned at him, just about to make some sarcastic comment when you felt a hot, painful ball in your stomach quickly moving upward.

“Oh no” was the last thing Steve heard before you ripped yourself out of his grasp, turning to vomit on the ground behind you.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as soon as you finish, handing you a napkin he’d quickly dug for in the glove compartment, and you wiped your face clean with a grimace.

“Next time, I’m picking the restaurant.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps

[dramione4e]

Red and Green

Dramione | Marriage Law AU Raiting: T

So this is my first attempt at writing a Dramione fic. Is a One Shot that you can also find here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831194

~

Draco Malfoy was a lucky man. 

 Seven years ago, he had avoided going to Azkaban; he had been able to clean his family name by donating obscene amounts of money to several charities; he’d gotten a very decent job at the Ministry as a Senior Auror and, as if he deserved it, had a circle of close friends, many of them he could even call family. 

 But, damn, he was going to need something more than sheer luck to get out of this mess free or even alive. 

“I’m not entirely sure this is OK, Weasley,” he half whispered, half shouted while looking at both ways of the empty street with an anxious look on his face while his former enemy and now also Auror partner, worked on removing the wards of the house that belonged to none other than Hermione Granger. 

 “I told you, Malfoy,” said Ron, dragging his words. “She showed me how to enter her house in case of an emergency. Just a few more spells and we’ll be able to get in.”

 The plan that both of them had come up with just an hour ago at the Leaky Cauldron was just to go to her house and talk to her. It made sense at the time but now Draco was sobering up and suddenly it didn’t seem like a good idea so much as breaking and entering.

 “Are you sure she is home?” he insisted. “We’ve been pounding at her door for ages.”

 “Believe me, she’s a heavy sleeper.” 

 That made Draco’s insides cringe a little bit. He didn’t like thinking about how Weasley knew such intimate information. Not like he was jealous or anything, the former Slytherin was just pointing out that he himself didn’t know that.

 He heard a click and the door finally swung open. Ron ushered him inside and followed him into the sitting room. It was very early in the morning so it was still a little dark inside. The place still looked the same as he remembered from the previous time he had been invited over for drinks when the gang was celebrating something he couldn’t ever care about now. 

 His red haired partner went upstairs to look for the witch but came back without her. 

 “She’s not home.”

 Yep. Breaking and entering. Good bye, freedom.

 “I guess we'll just have to sit here and wait for her,” the former Gryffindor announced, plummeting on the couch.

 “Are you mental?” 

 But before he got an answer, the front door was opened and he heard a scream coming from behind him.

“What part of for emergencies was so difficult for you to understand, Ronald?!” Hermione was yelling at both wizards who were now sitting on the couch while she was pacing from right to left in front of them. “Do you have any idea how long it takes me to set up wards like this?!”

 None of them answered. The room was fully lighted now and there was a lingering smell of Pepperup Potion in the air.

 “I could have seriously injured you, you fools!” Hermione kept on lecturing them. Ron had his head down, looking ashamed at the floor but Draco could not look away from the sight in front of him.

 Dear Salazar, what is she wearing? 

 His mental question was rhetorical. Draco was no longer a stranger to Muggle culture, in fact he prided himself on how much he’d learned over the past few years. Hermione had been actually the main source of help as she was now the owner of a company that fussed magic with Muggle technology in a safe and convenient way and said company also provided training and seminars to educate magical beings on how to use appliances, electronics and others.

 Besides attending all of the lectures, he had also expanded his knowledge by asking Hermione for more sources on different Muggle topics and he remembered reading about sports and exercise. Still, one thing was looking at pictures of random strangers in textbooks and a very different thing was to have the Gryffindor princess model the outfit.

 She was wearing high waisted leggings that went from under her belly button to the skin above her ankles, and was it called a sports bra? Whatever it was, it left her flat belly totally exposed and Merlin! he was being hypnotized by the swing of her hips and the drops of sweet that ran down her neck to her chest and disappeared inside her small top. Even though she was mostly covered, that outfit left little to the imagination, in his opinion.

 She’d explained she had gone running very early in the morning, something that perhaps she’d happened to mention she usually did but the two brilliant Aurors, in the state they were, couldn’t have possibly remembered.

 When she finally calmed down and the Pepperup Potion kicked in, the men were able to express their apologies which she begrudgingly accepted.

 “Anyway, why are you here?” her tone was softer, but she had her arms crossed in front of her.

 “Remember when I told you I would keep you informed about the Marriage Law?” Ron asked.

 Ah.

 Malfoy had almost forgotten the reason he was there in the first place.

 Five years after the war was over, the Ministry of Magic came to the realization that the wizarding population in the country had alarmingly decreased. Furthermore, the expected “Baby Boom” didn’t pan out because of a large adoption campaign -founded principally by the only Malfoy heir- to help children who became orphans after the war get a home. 

 Two years ago, the Ministry announced that now witches and wizards of marriageable age had a year and a half to find a suitor or suitress to marry, otherwise the Ministry would assign one based on the results of an old ritual that conjured ‘core matching magic’ and ‘soulmate bonding’ in addition to several compatibility tests that they were all ask to fill -some even under Veritaserum.

 “Why? Did you find out who I was paired with?” She took a seat on the armchair in front of them. “Is it someone bad?”

 “Yes, it’s bad, ‘Mione,” her best friend answered quickly.

 Fucking Weasley. Aren’t we supposed to be friends now?

 Draco had indeed developed a strong friendship with Ron Weasley and subsequently with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger -they were a package deal apparently-. Although the last two he didn’t see that often, with Granger he regularly engaged in pleasant conversations about the recent creations of her company, his most interesting cases as an Auror; also literature, music and films (Muggle and otherwise); their interests and, well, many things. 

 She was a very interesting woman and, in the recent past, he had admitted to himself that they had a lot in common and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if someday they went out to dinner together, just the two of them, as in a date. Still, he had never thought that they would be a perfect match, according to the experts at the Ministry. The highest one on the list by far. 

 After the initial shock had worn out, he’d felt elated. His co-workers had even patted him on the back as if this was his highest accomplishment. Hermione Granger, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, was his match. His soulmate. He was floating.

 When the high that this information gave him ended, he started questioning if he really deserved it. In his mind, they were perfect for each other. After all opposites attract, right? 

 She was a Gryffindor; he was a Slytherin.

 She was Muggle-born; he was a Pureblood.

 She was a member of The Order of the Phoenix; he was a Death Eater.

 Ugh.

 She was smart, beautiful, kind, honest, generous, brave; he was… 

 Guilt had been eating him all day. Maybe they were not a good match after all. Red and green didn’t go well together, right?

 That’s how he ended drinking with Ron.

 “Well? Who is it?” her apathy had now changed into wariness. 

 “I can’t tell you. All ministry workers signed up a non-disclosure agreement and until the owls are sent to the respective witches and wizards, we can’t say, write, point, mimic, spell-”

 “For fuck’s sake, Ron!” she interrupted and stood up again, her arms akimbo her hips. “Why the hell did you bother coming here if you can’t even tell me?!”

 At this, Weasley smirked, “Luckily for you, ‘Mione, we found a loophole,” he said smugly and pointed to himself and Draco even when it had been the blond Slytherin’s idea at the pub. “If you guess the name of this person, I could nod or shake my head without breaking the contract.”

 That seemed to somewhat relax her.

 “OK, so, I’m guessing is someone we know, must be single, and the age…” she muttered more to herself biting her lip. “And you said it’s bad? Does he work at the ministry?” She looked at the red head for confirmation and he nodded at both questions.

 “Oh, no.”

 Here we come.

 “Is it McLaggen?”

 Weasley shook his head.

 “Is it Smith from finance?” 

 Another head shake.

 “Parry?”

 No.

 “Hodgson?”

 No.

 “Mullins?”

 No.

 “The one that works in the same office as your father?”

 Every name was followed by a head shake and Draco was elated to know he didn’t even make the list.

 “Oh, no,” her eyes opened wide and now Draco was sure he was about to hear his own name. “Is it you?” but she was still looking at Weasley. 

 “Oi!” Weasley countered. “You’d be lucky if that were the case!”

 At this Hermione rolled her eyes and left an exasperated scoff, “I don’t have time for this, I’m gonna be late for work.”

 She dismiss them and disappeared upstairs.

 Malfoy couldn’t fight the smile that crept up his lips.

Draco was waiting outside of Granger, Inc. in Diagon Alley. After he and Ron left her house, he went home and immediately owled the witch to ask if she would be available for lunch. When he got her reply accepting his invitation, he went to bed for a few hours, after all, he’d needed to regain his beauty sleep.

 His head hurt a little and he was sure it wasn’t a hangover. Thoughts about how to best approach the subject swirled in his mind and thoughts about her reaction after she found out tormented him. However, he had come prepared to hear the worst and the best.

 “I’m ready.” The witch had stepped out of her office, bringing him out of his stupor. He noticed she was no longer wearing sportswear. Instead she fashioned a velvet looking set of robes that went from a very dark purple at the bottom to a faded, light lilac at the top. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

 Apparently leggings were not necessary for him to go into a trance. When the person was Hermione Granger it didn’t matter what she was wearing. That morning she had looked sexy and provocative and now she, only a few hours later, was the picture of elegance and professionalism and he liked both looks the most.

 When he came back to his senses he cleared his throat, “Shall we?” he asked and they walked together towards a close restaurant where they had met in the past with some of their friends.

 After ordering their drinks and meals, the gray eyed man thought he should just rip off the band aid.

 “I wanted to apologize,” he began. “For the incident this morning. Weasley and I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk and acted so stupidly.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged. “I was mostly mad at Ron for messing with my wards, I can tell the whole thing was his idea.” At this, the waiter came back with their drinks and put them on the table.

 “So, did you want to talk to me about something or is this just an ‘apology lunch’?” she inquired with a playful tone and then took a sip of her beverage, never taking her eyes off him.

 He was about to answer when he noticed the intentional look she was giving him and her raised eyebrow.

 “You know?” he ventured.

 “I’m not sure if I know,” she corrected. “I thought you just happened to be with Ron when he concocted his stupid plan this morning,” she mused. “But then after I got your owl, I thought that maybe it was you he was referring to.”

 He nodded to answer her implied question and automatically felt the binding lifting from him. Now that she knew, he was free to talk.

 “Why were you in such an urgent state to let me know?” she inquired. 

 “Weasley said you weren’t going to be happy with the news and he thought it was best to warn you as soon as possible,” he explained. “He said you would come up with a way to avoid the match and get a different guy.”

 “I probably could,” she offered and he knew she was so popular and well-connected in the Ministry that even if she couldn’t get herself out of the whole program, it would take no more than an owl asking them to change her match for them to go ahead and do it. “Is that what you want?”

 No. 

 Was this the best case scenario? Of course not. He would have liked to ask her out on proper dates, build up a relationship and eventually take things to a more serious level. He could easily see them becoming more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. So far, he already liked everything about her. He had dived inside her mind several times to know that.

 Not to mention that she got more beautiful by the day, and no, the glimpse of what her body looked like under the robes had nothing to do with it.

 OK, maybe a little. It was a perk.

 Anyways, the witch was waiting for a response. Should he just take the plunge or listen to the Ron Weasley inside his head, telling him he was a bad choice for her?

 “I know it is not ideal,” he answered. “I mean, to start a relationship with what is basically a forced marriage in which we are expected to wait only a year before we start having children. Not even pureblood arrangements work that way.

 “It is not fair for either of us,” at that moment the waiter interrupted him by bringing their plates. 

 Granger had kept quiet so far and just fixed him with a look that conveyed nothing. He’d learned that when she wanted, her face became unreadable, but he was not to be discouraged.

 He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 “I would hate to not be the one who marries you,” he dared to say and was pleased to see her cheeks become red. “If we were to do this my way, believe me that I would have courted you the right way. I swear I thought about asking you out many times in the last couple of years and now I feel like a complete idiot for not working up the courage to do it.

 “If you do me the honor of letting me be your husband,” he offered. “I vow to never take you for granted. We will take things slow. As slow as you want. I don’t want this marriage law to get in the way of dating you properly.

 “And you have my word that, if at any point you want out, you’ll be free to do it. I wouldn’t stop you,” he promised.

 She blinked a few times before she reached her hand across the table and put it on top of his.

 “I’d like that,” she answered, her honeyed eyes full of sincerity. “To date you, that is. I’ve also entertained the thought of asking you out a few times,” she admitted blushing even redder. “If in order to date we have to get married, then so be it.”

 He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and couldn’t stop the grin on his face. He turned his hand upwards to intertwine their fingers together and then brought her hand to his mouth at the same time he leaned in to plant a kiss on her knuckles. The electrifying feeling of her soft hand was going to be carved in his memory forever.

 “Thank you, Granger,” he murmured. 

 After they finished their lunches he was now walking her back to her office while holding hands. They were met with multiple stares and gasps along Diagon Alley but he didn’t mind one bit and she even made it seem as if she was oblivious to that.

 “So we’re dating now,” she stated, looking up to meet his eyes. 

 “Yes.” He found that just thinking about it made his face feel warm, but not intending to hide it, he looked back at her with what he hoped was a sincere smile. 

 They entered the building that was her business and Draco could see several heads turning to look at them.

 “Can we talk for a minute in your office?” he asked her and she agreed.

 Once the door was closed and locked he got close to her and took both her hands in his.

 “I know it seems like we are not given much of a choice about this, but,” he said feeling his hands getting sweaty with nerves. “In the off chance that you don’t realize along the way, that you are way out of my league and decide to leave me, I want to ask you the right way so we’ll be able to remember this moment forever.”

 Draco pulled out a small box from inside his robes and opened it in front of her. He heard her curse a ‘holy shit’ under her breath at the sight of the red and green tear-shaped tourmaline ring. Turns out that red and green did go well together. 

 He locked his eyes with hers and she gave him a small nervous smile, “Everything I know about you I already like and it would make me the happiest wizard if you let me learn more. I want to discuss not only academia and the news but also learn about your dreams and fears; I yearn to know how you take your tea in the morning and if you have a preferred side of the bed at night. I long for the happy moments, the new adventures, the memories we will create together and even the fights and arguments. I promise I will try my best to make you happy for as long as you have me.” He got down on one knee. 

 “Hermione Jean Granger,” he intoned. “Will you marry me?”

 The witch’s face was soaked with tears but her smile had gotten wider the more she listened to him.

 “Yes,” she croaked, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She extended her hand in front of her. 

 The wizard happily took it and slipped the ring onto her finger. He then stood up and felt Granger’s soft fingers over his own cheeks. 

 He hadn’t realized he had been crying too.

 “So, we’re really dating now,” she echoed her words from before, moving closer to him and resting her hands on his shoulders.

 “Yes,” he smiled and closed the gap between them, his fingers going up and down her back. “But we’re also engaged.”

 “We’re moving so fast,” she whispered a fake protest, her face only inches from his. 

 He hummed in agreement, his eyes were close now. 

 “And yet,” their noses touched, her voice barely audible. “We haven’t even kissed. That’s not fair, is it?”

 He couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled her closer -if that was even possible- and pressed his lips against hers. She was ready for him and quickly returned the kiss.

 Her lips were the softest and her taste was oh so sweet. 

 What started as slow and tender quickly became heated and passionate. It was new and exciting and yet so familiar. Their lips and tongues moved in a dance as old as time and when they finally stopped for air he opened his eyes to find her staring at him with a warm smile and even warmer eyes.

 She never looked so beautiful.

 Draco Malfoy was indeed a lucky man.

[alpineglowx]

I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Eleven: Starlight

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none, except some fluff!

* * * *

“I was young. Eight, nine, I can’t remember exactly. My parents were killed in an explosion trying to hide me from the droids that invaded our village. I almost died that day; I would have if the Watch hadn’t shown up. I became a foundling that day. I was raised by the Watch, and I was happy to be in their care. They had saved me, after all.

“When I was older I joined the Tribe on Nevarro. It’s where I acquired my armor. Once I swore the Creed, it meant I could never take my helmet off again, or have it removed by another. If it was, I would never be allowed to put it back on again... I would cease to be a true Mandalorian. I was trained to be a warrior growing up, and once I was older I joined the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. It paid well, harnessed my training, and gave me something to do.”

Thell blinked slowly, processing his words.

“That was until I was assigned to kill the kid. I didn’t even know he was a child at the time. I knew as soon as I saw him that I couldn’t let him be taken... there are people out there who are risking everything trying to find him... for what, I’m not exactly sure. I just know that he’s more powerful than I understand... and he’s just a kid.

“I had always thought that all Mandalorians followed the Children of the Watch’s beliefs. I believed that all were taught to hide their faces, because our secrecy is our survival. But Bo-Katan took her’s off like it was nothing. They all did, and they told me they were true Mandalorians. I didn’t know until then that I had been raised by the Watch. Bo said it was a cult that broke off from traditional Mandalorian ways.”

“So... no one’s seen your face since you were a kid?”

He dipped his head. “Yes. When I joined the Tribe, I hid myself. My identity, my name... everything about me became a secret. It had to be that way.”

“For you to survive?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t it ever lonely?” Thell asked quietly. “The life of a bounty hunter doesn’t sound too glamorous.”

“It isn’t... and it is lonely. I don’t stop with the jobs. Once I finish one, I move on to the next. It’s always been like that. I don’t have time to sit and settle.”

“Hm... So that’s what you’ve been doing since you were young.”

“Yes. I stay primarily in the Outer Rim. Since the Empire fell, there hasn’t been a shortage of bounties.”

“... Don’t take this the wrong way... but if you know the Watch is a cult, and the other Mandalorians take their helmets off, why don’t you?”

“I was raised under the Watch. It’s the only thing I know.” He turned to face her, slowly. “This is the Way.”

“Well, for what’s worth,” Thell said. “You’re the nicest bounty hunter I’ve ever met.”

He chuckled, just the slightest lift of his shoulders that had Thell smiling back at him. She sat up, clasping her arms around her knees as she hugged them to her chest.

“Do you know a lot of Mando’a?” She asked.

“A bit... why?”

Thell shrugged, glancing back at the fire. “Well... I was wondering if you could teach me some.” When she sensed him looking at her, she glanced back over and tilted her head. “My dad was Mandalorian. I know that doesn’t necessarily make me Mandalorian either, but I want to know some of the language. I haven’t... I haven’t felt like I’ve had my own identity before. I guess I could start somewhere... I think we share that.”

The comment had been a risk, but after seeing how he had been over the past week, Thell didn’t expect him to get angry or storm off. In fact, it wasn’t even her first thought.

Because deep down, it was true. They were both orphans now, even the kid sleeping in his arms. They all had childhoods that were essentially stolen from them, raised in places that protected them, but under the surface, were also performing great harm. Din was a result of indoctrination, and Thell had been a slave to a cruel master. Now, as adults, they were free to choose their own paths.

He nodded anyway. “Alright. Ask away.”

Thell blinked. “Oh... um. What’s hello?”

“Su cuy'gar.”

“Say it again,” Thell asked, and he did. She tried her best at repeating it under her breath, but it only made her feel silly with Din watching her.

“Hey!” She laughed. “It’s not like I’ve ever spoken it fluently. Why don’t you give me an easier one?”

Din sighed and relaxed against the rock, the child still tucked peacefully in his arms. “Beskar'gam... can you guess what that is?”

Thell squinted, twisting her lip. “Something to do with Beskar, I’m assuming.”

“Armor,” Din told her.

And they stayed like that, talking quietly beside the fire under the canopy of stars and darkness. For a moment, it felt like they were the only people in the world, including the kid. Din taught her words, phrases, even a small bout of the history of the language, all that he knew. Their conversation slowly turned to ones of their own personal lives, sharing stories and experiences.

Thell kept finding herself smiling at him, even laughing at his dry humor. It was beginning to show itself more and more, and she had to admit that this was her favorite side of him. She had scooted closer, sitting criss crossed beside him while the kid was wrapped in a bundle of blankets just beside Din.

“And I stole it.”

“Really?” Din seemed appalled.

“Yeah,” Thell nodded, smiling proudly to herself. “Darand had a whole shipment of my favorite fruit come in, for himself of course, but I couldn’t deny sneaking myself a few when no one was looking.”

“I’ve never taken you for a thief.”

Thell rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call myself one. It was probably just one of the most rebellious things I did back on Bespin.”

Her mind suddenly wandered back to her old home, to the neverending show of clouds and stars that was always overhead. Of nights crying herself to sleep after her mother died, of her fingers being rubbed raw from her chores as Darand’s servant.

He must have noticed that she went quiet because he spoke, just softly.

“Thell.”

She blinked, focusing back on his helmet. “Oh. Sorry...”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He sounded genuinely interested, so Thell straightened. “I want to tell you something, something that happened to me while I lived on Bespin.”

His attention remained fully on her, and in the quiet of their haven on Naboo, Thell felt like he truly cared for her.

“My mom died when I was twelve. At that point, I basically fended for myself in Darand’s mansion. I had a lot of people try to take advantage of me, of my youth, of my immaturity. I was constantly being compared to my mother or being expected to be someone I knew I wasn’t... No one ever really saw me for me. When I was sixteen, I was walking back from the market when I saw a group of my friends. I had known them for a couple of years. We weren’t close or anything, but I was still glad to see them.”

Thell took a deep breath, glancing at the fire.

“Anyways, I went to go talk to them and everything seemed normal for the moment. But... I don’t know why it happened, but they attacked me. I didn’t even have anything on me. No credits, nothing.”

Thell could feel her hands trembling and clasped them together, hoping Din wouldn’t notice.

“They just left me there, in the dust of that alley. They called me names and told me I was useless and kicked me, and I didn’t do anything.... I just let it happen.”

“Why?” Din asked suddenly.

“Because somewhere deep down I felt like they were right,” Thell said, making eye contact with him again. “I felt like because everyone else had been saying those things to me, it must have been true. No one in Darand’s house liked me. No one saw me. I mean, hell, the one guy that I actually liked completely rejected me to my face and walked away like I was nothing!”

Thell leaned back, surprised and suddenly embarrassed by her disclosure. To her relief, Din didn’t seem bothered by it; he barely moved from his position. Taking it as a good sign, and inhaling deeply, Thell continued, lowering her voice.

“My only source of comfort in the world was gone and I didn’t have any else left. I was just a girl in a galaxy that looked at me like I was nothing. That’s why I was so adamant about going with you that night. Because I knew the consequences if I didn’t. I knew I had to speak up for myself. If I didn’t, I could’ve died out there, in the big world. But I always felt safe with you, even when you were standing in the middle of the hallway pointing a blaster at my face.”

To her relief, Din huffed out a laugh. “Not the best of scenarios to feel safe in.”

Thell smirked. “Maybe not. But I came along anyway.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Really?” Thell perked up.

He dipped his head once. “It’s... nice to have someone to talk to.”

Thell smiled, feeling tears burn at the back of her eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“We have that in common, you know.”

“... What?”

“The thing you said... about no one seeing you.”

Thell’s eyebrows twitched, and she scrunched her fingers into her pant leg. “Oh.”

He was still looking back at her, suddenly gently in the firelight. Thell’s heart was full from their conversations and laughter, to his opening up about his own past to chuckling together about old stories. She was immensely grateful, and something about the warmth of the fire and the peace of the field were causing her barriers to fall.

“Thank you for telling me about yourself,” she said quietly. “I know it’s not easy, especially when you don’t normally share it. But thank you anyway.”

He watched her for a long moment before dipping his head softly, and Thell blinked. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, she bent forward, clasping her hand gently around his that rested on his leg. She could feel him flinch under her palm, see how rigid he suddenly went under her touch. His hand was warm, large and secure under her hold.

Thell gulped, and her greatest fear came true when he slowly pulled away from her embrace, turning on his side to face the kid. Her hand dangling, Thell could only feel the need to smack herself, curse at how stupid and overly forward she had been. Why should she have expected it anyway, just because they were connecting over their sob stories and growing closer to reciprocate her feelings?

Frustrated with herself, Thell slowly rolled over on her side, dragging the blanket she had brought with her. She couldn’t face the Mandalorian tonight, not directly. So she let her gaze linger to the rocks casted in an orange glow, and to the darkness of the field beyond.

. . . .

“Wake up.”

Blinking steadily, Thell peered directly into the sun. She put up a hand to shield her eyes right as the Mandalorian moved in front of it, casting her in shadow. His hand was on his hip, one arm holding Grogu. He peered down at her curiously, cocking his head and looking back with dark, endearing eyes.

Thell suddenly remembered the night before, the awkward moment when he had pulled his hand out of her’s. If Din remembered too, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he bent down, offering her a hand to help her stand.

“We’re going into town.”

Thell blinked, gathering her things from the ground. “Town? I thought we didn’t want to make ourselves known.”

“Not particularly,” Din said. “But we’re low on food. We’ll stay low profile.”

The village in Naboo that Din dragged her to was exquisite. Flowers and garlands of every color hung from pots or strung across archways. Ancient buildings soared above her view, the rounded green tops of settlements reflecting in the sun. Gardens with fountains and shining columns dotted the landscape, causing the air to have a sweet aroma. The corridors they walked through were not crowded, and the only inhabitants Thell saw were local humans called the Naboo. She couldn’t help but admire the elegant, flowing robes and dresses they wore, the ornate styles in which their hair was done.

But Din practically dragged her along, keeping her close as the kid hid in a satchel on his hip. Thell herself had worn a cloak, half covering her face. As for Din, there was only so much that could be done to hide the Mandalorian, so he stuck to sticking out in the crowd.

However, to her greatest relief, no one seemed to be bothered by them. In fact, they were more than friendly to the both of them, even the children offering them garlands of flowers as they entered the city.

But Din was meticulous, only wanting to spend as much time in the city as needed. Thell, on the other hand, wandered past vendors with crafts of things she had never seen, food she had never smelled or tasted.

And music.

The sound caught her ears immediately as Din was paying for a package of fruit. Thell turned, her ears perking up at the glorious sound. She had just taken a step forward when she felt Din’s hand on her elbow, holding her back.

“What is it?”

She looked over her shoulder, smiling widely at him. “Music. Don’t you hear it?”

“I do.”

She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go listen to it.”

“We need to go soon. It’s getting dark.”

Thell shrugged. “I know. But you were the one who said we needed a break. What’s a little pitstop?” When he didn’t move, Thell stuck out her bottom lip. “It’ll only be for a minute, and I promise I won’t drag you away again.”

When he finally nodded, Thell nearly shrieked in excitement as they followed the sound. She had heard music played on Bespin before, but only in moderation, and it had never sounded this beautiful.

They passed through corridors and dim hallways to an arched opening. It let them out onto a small balcony that overlooked a luxurious garden, surely owned by a wealthy family in the city. Thell could only tilt her head back and breath in the sweat air as she relaxed against the railing. The garden was speckled with wild flowers and trees of all varieties, twisting cobblestones paths between streams and pools that glittered like diamonds in the sunlight. Out in the distance, the sun was setting beyond the hills, casting the clouds in orange and pink glows. The railing was lined with vines that twisted around the architecture, spattering the balcony with purple flowers. Just beyond an archway in the garden Thell could spot the group of musicians playing, all holding different, beautiful instruments. A small crowd sat with their back to Thell and Din, and if Thell focused enough, it felt as if they were playing for just them.

She sensed Din moving closer, coming to rest his arms against the railing beside her. Grogu was at her feet, murmuring softly until she bent down to pick him up.

“See that, buddy?” She whispered, pointing in the direction of the musicians. “That’s a band. They’re playing music on instruments. Have you heard music before?”

He was babbling close to her ear, his eyes focused on the band. At a certain high note, his eyes widened and his ears pinned back, and Thell couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat. When the music settled again, Thell tucked Grogu into her arms, holding him as she began to slowly rock back and forth on her heels and hummed. Grogu seemed to enjoy it, eyes flickering to her when she pulled away from the railing, humming to the same tune as the musicians and spinning.

Grogu cooed happily, and Thell pressed her forehead to his before kissing his head. She giggled again, holding the baby in her arms and spinning while the music continued.

When she finally stopped spinning, and the music stopped, her hair was frayed and sticking to her face. But Din was looking at her, one arm resting casually against the railing and one leg kicked back. He was admiring her, not even bothering to look away when Thell paused, breathing heavily.

“Do you dance?” She asked, breathless.

She hadn’t known what came over her, except that Grogu was sliding down her arms as Din loomed over her, looking down at her through the helmet while starlight was beginning to glimmer on the Beskar.

“We have to get back. It’s late.”

Her heart sank, but she tried not to show it. “Okay.”

With one last glance at the garden, Thell turned and followed after the Mandalorian.

They returned to the ship a while later, but Thell opted to sleep outside again, under the canopy of starlight. Grogu stayed close by, choosing to sleep beside her as she settled her blanket on the ground. Din prowled the surrounding area, his blaster at his side, before coming up to Thell and Grogu. He peered down at the kid, cocking his head.

“Night, kid,” he said lowly, to which Grogu murmured softly.

Thell smiled down at the kid before glancing back at Din and asking, “How many days before we leave?”

“Two,” he said, and Thell nodded.

“It’s been nice.”

“It has.”

The silence turned to being rather uncomfortable, so Thell shifted, rocking on one knee.

“Well... I’m just going to get some water. Goodnight, Din.”

His voice was soft. “Goodnight.”

She had just returned to her makeshift bed on the ground beside Grogu, canteen in hand, when an object on her pillow caught her attention. Bending down, Thell gingerly picked up the item, rolling it over in her hand. It was one of the purple flowers from the balcony, the one that overlooked the musicians and where she had danced with Grogu. The one where she had desperately wanted to ask Din, too, as well.

“Din, did you-“

She went to look at the Mandalorian, but he was already sleeping on the other side of the fire, arms crossed over her chest. Thell let her eyes wander for a moment before settling down next to Grogu, letting her fingers brush over the petals as she drifted off.

[natsubeatsrock]

Why I Don't Forgive Mashima over Graytear

Does that title seem hyperbolic?

I mean, Mashima’s done some crazy things within the series, especially with ships. But to not forgive him over one? Especially Graytear? This sounds like the kind of thing I’d make fun of if you switch “Graytear“ with ��Nalu“.

And yet, here we are. On Thanksgiving of all days of the year.

Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid not shipping something that doesn’t end up becoming canon in most stories I get into. About the only one I can think of where a ship I’m really gunning for doesn’t happen is Fairy Tail. But I’d like to think I’ve been handling the ship discourse fairly well over the past few years. I don’t think that seeing a ship I don’t like happen is enough to create this response in me.

In fact, this post isn’t about romance. It’s not about how Mashima missed on obvious moments to make two characters I like fall in love and have kids. In a word, it’s about disappointment. Namely, my overwhelming disappointment regarding the canon handling of Gray and Ultear’s relationship.

Before I go further, it's worth mentioning two things.

First, this isn't a strictly analytical post. I'm not entirely sure how much of what I say in this post is tinged by my own disappointment with how what happened in canon played out. None of this is to say that Mashima is a bad writer for doing this, even as I obviously disagree with how he did this. Though I'd like to believe that I'm not the only one who feels the way I do about how Graytear played out in canon, similar to the views I share in many of my other posts.

Second, this post doesn't necessarily take the perspective that Gray and Ultear should have been a romantic couple. Full disclosure, Graytear is my favorite romantic ship for both Gray and Ultear. However, I'm not making the argument that Graytear should have happened in a romantic sense in this post. (That might be another rant for another day.) For now, I'm taking the perspective that their relationship should have been furthered beyond what we got in canon.

Part I: The Unfulfilled Promise of a Bright Future

All ships that don't happen represent missed opportunities. That's not always a bad thing. (No one's arguing Mashima gypped us out of the opportunity for a pedophilic ship by not making Mest and Wendy a thing.) However, it's often disappointing to see that there could have been a great ship idea that wasn't capitalized on by a writer. It's one of the big reasons fanfiction is fun to read and write. (Still feels weird to consider myself a fanfic writer.)

While I don't have too many examples of this for my own ships outside of Fairy Tail, the big one I look to is Zutara not happening in Avatar: The Last Airbender. I'm not personally big on the shipping discourse of the ATLA world, but living with someone who is a big Zutara shipper means I've seen and heard a lot of arguments that make it hard for me to say that there was nothing to the ship. For better or worse, Zutara does represent a lost opportunity for a ship involving one of the most peculiar (I mean this in a good way) relationship dynamics in the series.

Graytear represents a few lost opportunities. The big one involves the obvious connection between each of them and Ur. Gray's life was changed for the better because Ur sacrificed herself for him. Ultear's life, up to their meeting in Tenrou Island, was made worse when Ur gave her up, ironically to save her life. While Gray grew to have a positive view of Ur, Ultear came to have a negative view of her.

Weirdly enough, that doesn't mean they didn't want Ur back in their life. Part of the reason Gray goes to Fairy Tail is to find wizards that would be able to deal with Iced Shell. Ultear's reasoning behind learning Arc of Time is so she would be able to find a time where she could be with her mother. Despite their different views on Ur, they both wanted something similar - a world where they can live with Ur again.

Of course, it's worth mentioning that we know that Gray has a more complete perspective on Ur. Ultear didn't know why Ur gave her up in the first place, took on Gray and Lyon as disciples, or never came back for her. Ultear thought these things happened because Ur didn't want her anymore. In reality, they happened despite Ur wanting and loving Ultear.

During her fight with Gray, she learns that she had the wrong idea about Ur. She gave her up to deal with the balance of magic inside of her. She didn't come back for her because she was told that she died. And, despite having Lyon and Gray as pupils, she still loved her daughter, even though she thought she was dead.

In chapter 43, there's a flashback to a conversation between Lyon and Ur.  Lyon questions if he was supposed to replace Ultear. Ur rejects the notion saying that he was never supposed to be a replacement for her. Pity this likely happened before Ur took on Gray and neither of them knew of this moment. However, they both know enough after their fight to come to that conclusion.

During Gray and Ultear’s fight there’s a really cool call back to Gray and Ur’s relationship. When Ur goes to cast Iced Shell, her last words to Gray are words that many Graytear fans may be familiar with: “I will seal your darkness away!“ In its context, Ur is speaking about sealing away Deliora and ending his worries about the beast. Of course, as we all know, that wasn’t a complete sealing and Gray’s arc involves him dealing with this trauma for basically the rest of the series.

But, when Gray is fighting Ultear, he makes the same promise to her. He says that he will seal he darkness away. By this point, we know that Ultear doesn’t have the best view of Ur. However, his hope is to get her to see her mother in a new light. And, by the end of their fight, she realizes her errors and comes to have a newfound appreciation of her mother.

What this could have led into would be the start of a relationship similar to Gray's relationship with Lyon. They're not going to meet each other every arc and I doubt Ultear ever would have joined Fairy Tail. But Gray and Ultear would have much more positive interactions now because they've dealt with much of their Ur baggage. Maybe they could have come have a better, deeper relationship.

Two things happened by the end of the arc that made sure this wasn't going to be the case right away. 

The first is Ultear almost killing herself. Of course, Meredy stops her from going through with it. However, she fully intended to make up for her terrible actions regarding Meredy by dying. This wasn't the best sign of Ultear potentially trying to live on and change her ways. But, we'll get to that soon enough.

The second is the seven-year time skip. Gray stayed on the island and missed out on what happened with the world during the seven years. This wasn't particularly in their control and it's not as if their relationship was the only one affected by the time skip. However, it cut a lot of the potential for the relationship to further on, especially considering that, with the formation of Crime Sorciere, their possibilities to interact greatly diminished as Ultear is now actively avoiding being captured.

These things don't necessarily mean that Graytear wasn't going to go anywhere. Up to that point in the series, similar things could have been said about Jerza and they've ended up in a decent enough spot. Of course, that was dependent on Mashima's handling of their relationship during the Grand Magic Games. However you feel about the ship, it's undeniable that this arc set up their relationship dynamic for the rest of the series. Mashima used later arcs to further their relationship, but it’s been built off what happened during the Grand Magic Games arc.

As for Graytear, well...

Part II: The Grand Magic Games Arc Didn't Further Their Relationship

I don't need to say that the Grand Magic Games wasn't as kind to Graytear, as I'm sure anyone who is a fan of Fairy Tail could probably guess that. However, it's worth talking about things other than the one thing we're all thinking about. (Might as well save the best for last.)

Gray and Ultear hardly interact in this arc. Crime Sorciere and the training group Gray is with meet in chapter 263. They go their separate ways in the next chapter. They hardly talk to each other, much less do we see development in their relationship. 

I'm not expecting Gray to propose to Ultear. I'd like them to have one interaction at this point in the series that shows something that can positively change in their relationship. Jellal and Erza have half of a chapter to themselves and Juvia and Meredy have their moments with each other. 

When Gray mentions Ultear and Meredy potentially being their enemies, she gives an interesting response. She says that she's incapable of making up for the things that she's done throughout her life. In forming Crime Sorciere, she's trying to make up for that by helping as many people as she can.

That sounds positive, right? Ultear recognizes that she’s done bad things in the past and is trying to make up for it now. However, it doesn't seem that Ultear has fully gotten past that old mentality that death is the only way to seek redemption. It doesn’t seem as though she fully believes that she’s a better person because of what she’s been doing.

In essence, her darkness hasn’t been fully sealed away.

And when she leaves with the rest of Crime Sorciere, she tells Erza to take care of Gray. Now, there are a few different ways to read this, depending on how you feel about the various relationships in Fairy Tail. However, it's hard to read this as Ultear expecting to see Gray many more times past that moment. 

In fact, they'll only meet two more times past that moment. 

For the rest of the series. 

To be perfectly clear, this is because of the events of the Last Ages. (And, don’t worry, we’re almost there.) However, Gray and Ultear only interact a total of three times after the Tenrou arc. And one of them is only their technical meeting later in Sun Village. Depending on how you see it, that doesn't count. That Mashima didn't do much else before Last Ages shouldn't distract from the fact that he didn't do much before it happened.

The only other canon interaction between Gray and Ultear past that point in the series is their final meeting at the end of the Grand Magic Games. This barely counts as an interaction as is. Gray recognizes what happened to Ultear and is encouraged not to do anything because of it. I plan on talking about the meaning behind this soon, but consider that, for many people, this will be the last interaction between Gray and his master's daughter. Including their meeting at the beginning of the arc and their two different interactions on Tenrou Island, they only meet each other four times across the entire series.

It's not even as if we don't see Ultear after she cast the Last Ages spell. As I'll get to, she shows up in different forms to a few different people. However, Gray will never see or interact with Ultear past Sun Village and will never see her in person after the Grand Magic Games. No one talks about seeing her again to Gray and he doesn't get the explanation others received regarding her existence. (Though, to be fair, his moment happened shortly after her situation started.)

Well, it looks like we're already there, so let's talk about...

Part III: Last Ages - A Spell Made to Piss Me, Specifically, Off

Yes, I'm devoting an entire section in this post to the spell, Last Ages.

Considering most of the discussion about Last Ages as a spell is positive (up until it’s shown to not actually kill Ultear), I kind of have to.

This moment is held up by many to be an important inspiring moment for Ultear. This is the moment where she's truly able to come to terms with herself. She finds that her life is only worth enough to turn time back by one minute. But, by a twist of dramatic irony, that one minute was enough to save many different lives from death. Most importantly, her sacrifice was able to save the life of Gray after he was attacked by the mini dragons.

Okay, where do I start?

Ultear didn't need to sacrifice herself to stop the Eclipse dragons. Obviously, saving Gray's life, in addition to several other characters, is important and invaluable to how the series could go on from that point. But their lives were not relevant to the success of the Eclipse battle. Natsu’s was and his actions weren't affected by the Last Ages spell. If you think that’s hyperobole, consider that in the anime version of “Sin and Sacrifice”, their fight is quite literally the only thing that happens exactly the same before Last Ages take effect and after it.

I’d like to run a bit of a thought experiment. Imagine if Ultear did nothing. We can deal with the potential ramifications of Gray and so many other characters potentially dying as they come up or change that so they were always going to survive. But as far as getting rid of the Eclipse Dragons and Future Rogue? Natsu would still fight Shadow Rogue, break the Eclipse Gate with his bones, and the future visitors would all disappear anyway.

In fact, that version of events fits the same set of logic that using Last Ages requires of Ultear. Ultear feels that she's irreparably bad because her go-to idea to kill present-day Rogue proves that she can't truly reform. And after going through with the Last Ages spell, she initially believes her efforts to be worthless. If she were to find out that Future Rogue and the Eclipse dragons were defeated without killing present Rogue, that would put her in a position to realize she still has a ways to go before she can change her way of thinking. However, as the person who saved Natsu, she'd ultimately have a positive stake in how the events transpired. In essence, by saving one person, she was able to save everyone else.

Now, if Ultear was simply a one-off case of Mashima having a villain who has a longing for death to be the way they redeem themselves than I might not have as much of a problem with how things transpired. As it stands, she's on the same team with someone who had the same issue in Jellal. Earlier in this same arc, Jellal still had doubts about whether he should continue to live in light of his past actions. He's ultimately brought to think that he should live because of his conversation with Erza.

By the way, she’s also been with Meredy for even longer than that. She’s seen how she’s turned from an emotionless puppet to her own mage. Heck, Meredy should have harbored resentment and hatred over being the one to cause her family and village’s demise. However, she was the one to convince Ultear to keep living as long as she did.

Then there’s Gray himself. As callous as Iced Shell jokes end up being from fans, Gray never seemed to remove the technique from the table of possible abilities to pull from. He even went on to learn a stronger form of the spell. But every time he's gone to use it, he was prevented from doing so because of his friends. Each time, the lesson is that he isn't supposed to recklessly sacrifice his own life, even if it might save the people he cares about.

And it doesn’t stop with them. Fairy Tail is full of characters who start out as serious villains you’d think would never change or be good, have a change of heart, and do good for the world. They join Fairy Tail or other guilds, change their ways, and become better people than they were when we first met them. The arc this happens in involves that on an individual level with Flare and a group level with Sabertooth.

Are you starting to understand why I have a problem with how this played out? 

Many things done by Hiro Mashima are the product of his indecision and "free-form" writing regarding Fairy Tail. There are plenty of moments that show where Mashima wasn't exactly fully sold on the thing he'd end up doing just yet. If you read Mashima talk about his writing process, you almost get the sense that he isn't entirely sure of everything he's doing from chapter to chapter.

To be clear, this isn’t to say he doesn’t plan ahead. As he has explained it, while some details are solid in his head, others are a bit more flexible than others. For example, in the last arc, Mashima wasn’t exactly sure about the nature of Irene and Erza’s relationship. Looking back, you can see how that waffling affects how their story is told.

The decision to cast Last Ages doesn't strike me as that kind of move. This feels like an intentional writing decision by Mashima. In essence, he's decided not to go against the grain of characters he's previously written and even some he'd go on to write to have Ultear leave the series as a narrative force.

Or so you'd think.

Part IV: The Post-Last Ages Age

A lot has been said about Ultear's returns to relevance. When she was a part of the battle against DiMaria, I remember people talking about if her return was a cheapening of her sacrifice. I've even talked about her continued relevance as it relates to Gray since Last Ages, including a post for Graytear Week in 2017 about Gray remembering Ultear during the Silver fight.

While Gray's flashbacks to Ultear make sense, I'm kind of iffy on the logic behind Ultear's appearances in Sun Village and Alvarez Empire. We kind of got an explanation behind her existence in Alvarez, being that Ultear can work within spaces where time is messed up. This has been repeated again in the sequel. I don't know that I like the logic behind it, but I also can't say, as some might, that this is Mashima regretting his actions. It’s worth talking about some of the things that have come up through Ultear’s new appearances after casting Last Ages.

For Gray, her sacrifice represents something he should avoid. Almost every time he remembers her, the point is that she made a sacrifice so that he could continue to live. Therefore he shouldn't try to throw his own life away. If you read the post that I made for Graytear week, you know that I like that this theme was reinforced by Ultear's sacrifice.

However, this is a lesson that Gray has already learned. Arcs before with Natsu stopping him in Galuna Island. I even say in that post that remembering Natsu stop him then should have been enough to stop him any other time he used Iced Shell. Especially considering Natsu stopping Gray is remembered every time this theme is brought up. This motif is particularly annoying because, in effect, it makes Ultear's sacrifice a repeat of Ur's use of Iced Shell. Gray even says that he lost both mother and daughter because they were trying to save his life.

In effect, he wasn't able to seal Ultear's darkness away, just as Ur did for him. Ultear saved Gray, but she ultimately succumbed to the darkness in her.

This brings us to the final arc. Her longest post-Last Ages moment is her involvement in Wendy and Chelia's fight with DiMaria. At the end of the fight, she muses about how, if things were different, she could have been just like the two of them. When I first read this, it felt nice knowing that Ultear recognized she could have done things differently. Looking back, it's annoying to see that she recognizes that she could have changed but it would require intervention much earlier on in her life. As if Gray and Ultear's relationship had more of an effect on Gray than it did on Ultear.

Not a whole lot of people seem to talk about how Chelia sacrificing her ability to use for Wendy's safety probably seemed similar to Ultear wanting to use Last Ages. I remember the Chendy shipping discourse when the moment happened in the manga, but I wasn't struck by that alternative until long after I rewatched the events in the anime. I don't buy into the whole "Ultear coming back cheapens her sacrifice" logic that many people have posited. However, the parallel between Last Ages and Third Origin is weakened once you reveal Chelia is still able to use magic after it.

And in the sequel, she appears again to Jellal to effectively telling him to live for Erza's sake. This might be where Ultear's presence makes the most sense. Ultear sees Jellal as someone going to make the same mistake she made and she wants to prevent that. I can’t help but feel annoyed that this was the direction Mashima decided to take this moment in.

I feel that continuously comparing this situation to Jerza makes it seem that I'm bitter against Jerza. However, I actually do like Jerza as it has been playing out in canon, even as I think that Jellal's redemption situation is a mess. It was among the first ships that I came to like within Fairy Tail and I’ve never been able to fully distance myself from it, even as I’ve come to like other ships for both characters (mostly Erza honestly) outside of Jerza. I don’t mean to make these comparisons to seem jealous of a ship I don’t like getting what I want a ship I like to have.

But when there is a clear obvious example of what we could have gotten from Gray and Ultear's relationship in another relationship involving their friends, which also happens to be one of the biggest ships in fandom? It's hard for me not to think that Mashima's doing this on purpose. After the immediate euphoria of seeing Ultear come back washed over me and I thought through this moment again, I was pissed of about Mashima’s handling of Last Ages all over again.

One of the craziest things about this whole situation is that the anime accidentally gave us an insane possibility for Ultear post-Grand Magic Games. If you don't know, when Ultear's backstory was revealed during her fight with Gray in the anime, it was revealed that the lab she was in was headed by Brain, who was the leader of Oracion Seis. I say accidentally because I don't have any proof that Mashima meant for this connection to exist. Nonetheless, if she didn't go through with Last Ages, Crime Sorciere would end up meeting with Oracion Seis.

I would pay good money to see how Ultear would interact with Brain post-Tenrou Island. In one story written by a fellow Graytear shipper, intended to be somewhat of a rewrite of the series, Ultear meets with Brain and kills him, along with a few other members of Oracion Seis. Is this how it would go down in canon? Probably not under Mashima’s watch. Though, the idea is definitely intriguing.

Speaking of which...

Epilogue: How, Despite Hilariously Low Expectations, Fans Disappoint Me

I don't think fans were given as much of an opportunity to believe in Graytear's ability to succeed as other smaller ships in Fairy Tail. Of course, I say this as someone who wishes that they did end up in a deeper, hopefully, romantic relationship and knows people who feel the same way. But, I've joked about how small the Graytear fandom is before.

If you've read some of my recent posts about Lisanna and Nali, you'll notice that I don't have as much of a problem with Mashima over how he handled Lisanna as I do with the greater fandom treatment of her. To be clear, I have issues with how little Mashima did with Lisanna after Edolas and I do wish he did more with her in canon. At the same time, I can understand why we got so little of her, with or without Natsu.

Still, with a ship like Nali, you kind of hope fans take what happened in canon and have fun with the possibilities. While it’s not on the same level as the Big 4, it's not as if it's impossible to find people who like the ship and are making new content for it. I can't exactly blame fans for not doing this with Graytear to a similar degree. But, I figure I should quickly deal with some things I have heard said by fans regarding Graytear. (read: I have nowhere else to put this except the end.)

The worst I've heard many fans over the years is that they're like siblings. Considering Ur didn't see Lyon or Gray as her kids, I can't say that I agree with this interpretation. And considering one of the biggest ships in the FMA fandom is Roy Mustang and his alchemist teacher's daughter, excuse me for not understanding how we got to this take being so popular. (inb4 "Royai and Graytear are different")

Beyond that, there's the take that this isn't the ship that parallels Reina and Musica from Hiro Mashima's other work, Rave Master. However, talking about why it is and why the false comparisons to Gruvia are infuriatingly incorrect would take way too much time and we're already over three thousand words in (read: I made a post about this over four years ago and I’m absolutely working to update it). Suffice it to say, I don't buy that line of reasoning either.

On a related note, there is the notion that Ultear “fell on the sword for Gruvia“. That’s more of a romantically-charged argument then I’m willing to talk about here and may be more suited for another time. However, it’s worth saying now that I don’t know that Ultear thought that much about the specific relationship between Gray and Juvia in casting Last Ages. I’m not even willing to say that Mashima thought about Gruvia that way in his writing of Last Ages, even as I interpret Gray “smiling for her sake” during Gift to be about Ultear and not Juvia.

I want to end this post by saying that I am grateful for the fans who have agreed with me and a shoelace on the merits of Graytear (you either get the reference or you don't). I have a few ideas of how that could work inside and outside of my rewrite universe that I will get to soon enough.

It’s also worth reiterating that this is one of my least favorite aspects of Mashima’s writing regarding Fairy Tail. I don’t feel as strongly negative regarding most of Fairy Tail, even among the things I disagree with most fans about, as strongly as I do this. (read: It’s unlikely I’d write a post like this if Nalu became canon.) I highly doubt Mashima would do anything else with Fairy Tail that would warrant this kind of post from me.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

I feel like I need to talk about this...

I’m very open about being aroace. At least here on Tumblr I am. (Outside of Tumblr, I am technically out, but some issues with my mother and grandmother have forced me back into the closet. I felt miserable about that initially, but I’m learning to be fine with it.) But it wasn’t always this way. In fact, I didn’t even know what aroace meant until I was 18. So how was I supposed to know when I got my first ‘celebrity crush’ that those last words do not, in fact, describe very accurately what I was experiencing? I didn’t know I had ADHD, either. I feel like that might have helped me realise some things about my experience. But let me go back a bit and actually tell you what happened and how it happened. [side note: I’ll be starting from a bit earlier than the ‘crush’ thing happened because I feel like it’s important for whoever reads this to understand how my circumstances shaped the experience I had]

Backstory:

I had always been different from my peers, so it was not surprising to anyone that I was bullied in middle school. [side note: Judging from my and my little brother’s combined experience, I feel like bullying is, quite unfortunately, something of a universal experience in middle school - in my day, I was on the receiving end. This last school year, my brother was the bully. Gosh, I wish I could tell my story without many deviations and without crying as I type, but I’ve already thrown both of those intentions out the window.]

So anyway, things got so bad that I was driven to suicidal thoughts. One night I was just lying in bed, thinking about going through with it, but I was like, well, I’ve got a test in the morning. Maybe after that. 13-year-old me had very weird priorities. I kind of still value my work over my mental health, but I’m working on it. So that night, I didn’t do anything. The next day, right before school, I was on the internet and I found out a new show had premiered. And then, as I was watching the pilot episode, that was when it happened. I saw this boy, whom I will not be naming, and I listened to him sing. I felt nothing much at the moment, but I couldn’t get the song out of my mind all day. Up until that moment, I had had a weird attitude towards music where I’d only listen to female singers. My ‘boys have cooties’ phase, I guess you could say. But this one, he was the first one I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I felt like I could listen to his voice 24/7. I’ve had that feeling hundreds of times by now, but I hadn’t before then. So I figured, this must be what a crush means, right? This must be what all my peers are talking about. The next day, I confided in a girl from my class with whom I was kind of friendly (though not actual friends, I’d say). I asked her if she’d seen the show, if she knew this person. She said yes and we kind of gushed about the song together, and I felt normal for a couple of minutes. I never knew the difference between my experience and what is considered ‘normal’ until years later.

For the time being, the thought of this special person was what was keeping me alive. I started having visions of him walking with me through the school hallways or sitting next to me on the bus home from school. I knew perfectly well those visions weren’t real, but they made me feel better. Happy. Safe. Seen. Full disclosure: I still have such visions, I’ve had them with different people through the years as my hyperfixations change. My latest one is what has enabled me to deal with some of my worst phobias (and I have a long list of them). I’ve never told anybody what it is, and I won’t be telling because I feel like if I do tell, the vision will not be strong enough to work against my fears. But I’m getting sidetracked again. Sorry for that.

So, I was pretty much obsessed with this guy. He was all I could think about, he was keeping me alive through what was possibly the toughest time in my life to date. So naturally, thanks to my heteronormative, amatonormative surroundings, I was convinced I had a crush on him. In fact, after this experience had lasted about a year, I was sure I was in love. 

Then things changed. I started high school. I found a couple of friends, and the people in my class in general made me feel like I could finally be myself. Be open about what I thought and how I felt. So by the end of the first semester, all 27 people in my class knew about my feelings for this guy. What I didn’t know was that they didn’t know that it wasn’t exactly like I was describing it. Because I wasn’t aware that a straight/ allo person’s idea of being ‘in love’ was different from mine. I was just putting things in words I thought I understood. 

So it came as a total surprise when some people from my class started teasing me about it. It wasn’t malicious teasing, that much I could tell. I had been bullied mercilessly before. What my new classmates were doing was asking genuine questions in a slightly teasing manner. For example, it would be known that my special person had a girlfriend, and so they’d ask me ‘aren’t you jealous’ or ‘do you wish you were that’, or stuff like that. And those questions felt so weird. So stupid. I thought, wait, why would I be jealous? Why would I feel bad about this person who has made me so happy, being happy himself? Why would I want to date him? That had nothing to do with how I felt. I told my classmates so. They gave me weird looks in response. So I started feeling like there was something wrong with me. Like I wasn’t doing that ‘in love’ thing right. Suddenly, I felt like my feelings were being intruded upon. Tarnished, somehow. I had always been aware that my visions were anything but real. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. And all of a sudden, somebody was suggesting that I should want to date this person. Why would I want to date anyone, I thought? Even if it was him. Dating people was awkward. Making physical contact with anyone outside my immediate family made me shudder. It still does, though I can hug some of my closest friends without any negative feelings. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Back to my first time I questioned my experience. I was about 14 at the time (in Bulgaria, high school starts from grade 8, ages 13-14 or 14-15), and, well, I didn’t do much questioning at the time. I just told myself that they didn’t understand my feelings, and I stopped being so open about the topic. 

My hyperfixation on this person lasted long. Longer than any other I’ve ever had to date. Maybe it was because I clung to it like it was what tethered me to my mortal life. But by my final year of high school, I could feel it fading away. I was forcing myself to think about this person, to conjure up the old visions; the song that had started it all was drained of all meaning that it had held for me. I was moving on to other hyperfixations. I felt like I was betraying myself, like I was breaking some sort of unbreakable vow. It was time to face the music. So I let go. I allowed myself to move on. It was kind of made easier by the fact that my special person had changed, too, and had moved on to projects that I could not enjoy due to some triggering content. And I moved on.

Then I joined Tumblr. I discovered some things. Among them was Hellenic polytheism. It had been a while since I’d found my faith in the Hellenic pantheon, but Tumblr was where I found out I was not alone, that there was an existent religion. And step by step, I realised that... I had been projecting Apollo’s presence onto my special person. And my old connection to that person had started fading away when I had realised I believed in the gods.

This explained a lot of things. But there was still the fact that I had never been able to look at another person the way my peers were looking at each other. I had been asked out two or three times during high school. I had rejected those people without even thinking about it. My best friend at the time was a boy and most teachers seemed to ship us together because, well, let’s be real - we were constantly fighting like an old married couple. It took him getting a girlfriend and seeing how happy I was for the two of them for everyone to realise that things between us were, and had always been, purely platonic. And now I was going to uni and I had never had feelings I was apparently supposed to have. 

It was also thanks to Tumblr that I discovered the extent of the LGBTQ+ community. I considered myself an ally at first, and I was a passionate ally, too. I still am nothing but supportive to my fellow LGBTQ+ people of all identities, but it was not until I was 18 going on 19 that I discovered the term ‘asexual’. I knew quite suddenly that this was the term for me. I knew what I was and how I felt. I felt mature enough to know the difference between ‘I’m not experienced enough to know for sure’ and ‘I’ve just never had those feelings, I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be like’. It took a bit longer to find out there was a difference between sexual and romantic attraction, but by the time I was 19, I had proudly labelled myself ‘aroace’. I still feel at home with this label. I am completely open to the possibility that it might change with time, but this is what feels right at this time. 

Fast-forward another couple of years to about 8 months ago. I had always known that I got really invested into stuff - shows, books, hobbies, people - only for that investment to wear off after a time. The timespans varied, but I realised I had experienced this ever since I was in pre-school at least. I didn’t have a term for it, though. And then, all of a sudden, Tumblr started offering me posts tagged ADHD. I could relate to maybe 95% of them. At one point, it felt like whatever algorithm this hellsite operates on was shoving the ADHD posts in my face, as if screaming ‘DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF, WELL, YOU?!!!’ in my ears. So I did some tests. I did a lot of self-reflection. I went to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed in March. I started educating myself on the terminology and found out that what I was experiencing is called hyperfixating. So here I am now.

Here I am now, reflecting back on my experience from 8 years ago, connecting the dots. Realising what it was that I went through, allowing myself to go through it again, with different things and people. I don’t feel the need to cling to hyperfixations anymore because I know that is what they are and I know I can’t keep them forever. Of course, I do feel bad about stopping caring about something that used to be my light and life for a time. I dread the time I’ll get over my current hyperfixation, but I also know it’s inevitable. My ADHD brain needs the change and it happens naturally. And somehow I’m ok with that.

Well, this is it. This is the story of how Tumblr prompted me to discover aspects of myself that have been there for as long as I can remember. What better place to talk about it than Tumblr itself? What better group of people to understand and accept me than my lovely mutuals and followers? If you’re reading this, thank you. For being here, for listening to me, for allowing me to be who I am. You’ve got no idea how happy this makes me, even though I can barely see what I’m typing through the tears. Thank you. 

[captaincvans]

Chapter Three: Tear Me to Pieces

11/01/19

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2502+

Warnings: Language; Panic Attack; Angst; Angry!Chris; Sad!Chris

Series Masterpost

A/N: I think I’ll stick with posting biweekly (once every two weeks) as it seems to fit my schedule most. It’s been tough trying to fit writing in with my grad school, but I am trying to balance everything! You get an extra long chapter though! I hope you enjoy and pleaseee lemme know what you think! I appreciate every comment, ask about this fic 💕

“I don’t know what to do, mom,” Chris cried on the phone. He was desperate for some answers as the feeling of dread took over his heart. His career and his personal life has what he felt like being destroyed in a matter of weeks, and he was overwhelmed with so many emotions. 

“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this,” Lisa immediately cooed sympathetically. “Have you been able to see Jenna at all?” With them being so close, it was no surprise that Lisa knew the name of Chris’s therapist back in Boston. Chris had actually gone to a couple of sessions with his father, wanting to mend a few troubles the two had in a safe place. 

There was a beat of silence, and he answered with a small, “No.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, baby. Do you want me to book you an appointment with her?” Lisa was worried that Chris hadn’t been seeing anyone throughout this whole ordeal. She could tell how overwhelmed he was, and she knew he needed someone more than her at this moment. 

“S’okay. I’ll call her tonight.” 

Her heart was breaking at the sound of his defeated voice, the 38 year-old sounding more like a child, and it pulled at her heartstring. “Okay. Text me when you’re going. I’ll come by and drop you off. We can make a whole adventure out of it.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, saying goodbye to his mother before ending the call. He made an appointment with Jenna, who scheduled him in for the next day, hearing the gravity of the situation. A text pinged on his phone not long after, his personal assistant, John Diangelo, asking if he can come by. He texted back with a ‘yes’, needing a friend through this all and wanting to inform John of his manager’s crime. 

Chris sat on his couch, Dodger in the crate sensing the tension in the house. He sat there, numb and broken. It could’ve been hours and he wouldn’t have realized. The only thing that got him out of his reverie was the knock on the door. With drawn out, sluggish movements, he got to the door, opening to reveal his sympathetic PA. 

“How are you holding up, brother?” the Kansas-born man asked with a soft smile. 

“I don’t know, John. I really don’t know,” Chris whispered, sitting down on his couch with his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Take it one day at a time. It’s all you can do,” he said, running his hand through his ginger hair. “Has the police found anything?”

“It was Daniel. He’s the one stealing money from me.”

“Holy shit,” John cursed, leaning on the wall behind Chris. 

“And while we were talking to him, he said someone else was involved.”

“Who?” John asked urgently, eyes wide in concern and anticipation. 

“Y/N.”

“No fucking way,” John muttered, his voice coming out breathier than usual. 

Chris shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this. I was going to propose,” he confessed. 

John was at a loss of words, not knowing how to comfort the man. Anything he said would sound ingenuine. “It’ll get better, brother. At least you found out sooner than later.” 

“I guess so,” Chris mumbled. He blinked a few times, his red-rimmed eyes hurting with every blink. “I’m gonna go pack up her stuff.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s alright. I can pack’em myself.” 

“Okay. I can take her stuff down once you’re finished with them, and let her know they’re ready for her to pick up if you want?”

“That would be great. Thank you, John.” With robotic movements, Chris went to the bedroom he once shared with the love of his life, and started packing. 

Six Months Later

The investigation slowed down a bit as they kept hitting roadblocks with the press. It became a more high profile case, and the attention it received hindered people from doing their job as they were harassed by the press. They were relentless once they caught a whiff of the drama unfolding in Chris’s life. He tried to keep the issue as private as possible, but it was hard to when there were so many moving parts involved- from the fraud investigators, the police officers in charge of his case, and Kevin and his accounting firm that is doing a complete audit of Chris’s finances. There were a lot of people involved, one of the was bound to sell the story to the press. 

Captain America Breaks Up with Girlfriend Over Money?

Chris Evan’s Girlfriend a Gold Digger?

Chris Evan Found to Have Fired Manager Over Fraud

Headline after headline, they wrote it all. Rumours and assumptions being thrown around, and articles that were only half truth. With the leaks of the news, there was another investigation launched to find the person who was leaking Chris’s personal information to the public. Chris couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by the press. He hired bodyguards for himself and his family, hating the fact that they were victims to his problems. 

It marked the 25th week of the investigation, the end was almost in sight. One of the newly hired fraud investigators was caught selling information to the press, and was quickly fired from the company. Everyone else had to sign a tighter non-disclosure form that was created by Chris’s legal team. 

It was a gloomy Friday, the rainy day finally easing up as peak summer hit the town of Massachusetts. Chris just finished his daily morning walk with Dodger, hating the humid rain as much as his little dog did. Scott was staying at his place for a few days, trying to distract him from it all, and trying to pull him back out of his isolation. His usual goofy self was nowhere to be seen as he became paranoid of the next person to take advantage of him. Aside from his family, he’s been ignoring a lot of his friends, and only recently gotten back in touch with them. 

Just as he finally cooled down from the AC in his house, his phone rang. 

“Hey Jason, what’s up?”

“We got some new information. Do you mind coming by the station?”

Chris sighed, rubbing his forehead. It seems like he couldn’t catch a break with all the information that was hitting him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

“Yea, yea. Sorry. Just got distracted for a bit- I can be there in half an hour or so.” 

“Alright. See you soon.” 

“You good?” Scott asked, entering the kitchen as Chris was finishing up his call. Dodger happily jumped towards him, begging to be given attention which he happily gave. 

“Yea. Jason just said they have more information and needed me to come down.”

“Want me to come with you?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. 

“Alright. Lemme just get changed, and we can go.” 

The two brothers met up with Jason and Diana Bass, she was in charge of the whole investigation and was working closely with Jason to finish everything in a timely matter. They walked to a small meeting room, both brothers refusing any refreshments as the tension built in the room. 

“While we were investigation Y/N, we found something else,” Jason said, his eyebrows pulled together anxiously. 

“What is it?” 

“We investigated all of Y/N’s accounts, and we did not find any extra deposits. Instead, we found monthly withdrawals. We followed the money, and it was going to an account created by John Diangelo, your personal assistant.”

“Fuck! Him too?” Scott growled, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder for solidarity. 

Dianna nodded sympathetically. “Unfortunately, he seemed to be the mastermind of the whole operation. We went through his files and exchanges with Ms. L/N to see what the relationship was as we thought she was sending him the money she took from you to put in an offshore account like with Daniel, but there were only brief communication from prior years, most of them regarding your schedules. There were no indications that they talked beyond your schedule. We did, however, find a letter addressed to Ms. L/N in his computer about the terms your relationship with her.”

Chris tilted his head in confusion. “What terms?”

“In this letter, it said that in the case that you broke up with her for reasons that are unequivocally her fault, she will be forced to pay back the material cost of your relationship. Any time you paid for her, whether it was dinner or anniversary gifts, she must pay it back 100%. And as far as she knows, your separation was caused because you were “unhappy with her” as she quoted in our interrogation so she paid the cost.” 

“What the fuck? We never had such agreements! That’s ridiculous- I would never make her do such things.” Chris was pissed, even more so than his staff stealing money, they were blackmailing people too. He thought they were pretty messed up to think of such things. Even in previous relationships where his girlfriend had cheated on him, lied to him, and manipulated him, he would never think to have them pay back. 

“Ms. L/N confirmed that she had signed that agreement somewhere in the two-year make of your relationship. It was given to her by Mr. Diangelo privately in which he requested her utmost discretion, and it also had your signature.” 

“What?! No- No- I never signed anything like that!”

“We sent the letter to your legal team, but we can almost confirm that Mr. Diangelo had forged your signature in that letter as your letter was on the file and there was no evidence of an original physical copy. Regardless, it is not a binding contract as it never went through any of your lawyers.”

“Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t know that,” Jason continued. “She thought she did have to pay everything back, and we are trying to gather more information as we speak, but I’m guessing there are no merit to the numbers he pulled.” 

“That’s fucking messed up!” Chris growled, one his hand resting on his hip and the other rubbing his chin anxiously. 

“We cannot disclose the amount Ms. L/N paid Mr. Diangelo, but are working to finish up the investigation so the money can be returned to her.” 

“So she wasn’t working with Daniel and John?” Chris confirmed, not knowing whether he preferred knowing the truth or not. 

“We cannot draw any conclusions at this time,” Diana stated. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the guilt starting to bubble in his stomach. “ Okay…” Chris  shook hands with Diana before she parted ways. He then turned to Jason, “Was she involved at all?” 

“Chris,” Jason said in a warning tone. 

“Please- I- I just gotta know.” 

“I just know from the financial side of things, and there was nothing to indicate that she was involved, Chris. She could’ve had the money transferred to another account or something, but so far nothing’s come up except for her payments to John.”

“Ho-How much did she pay?” 

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “Chris, I can’t tell you that.”

“Please- Please just give me an approximate- I just need to know-”

“She paid 3⁄4 of it, including the damage fee. She said she wanted to get rid of the debt as soon as possible so you didn’t have to worry about it.” 

“How much?”

“Chris-”

“How much?!” Chris all but yelled, standing up from his chair and knocking it over in the process. His chest was heaving, and his fist shaking as his eyes glossed with tears. 

“The number he gave her was close to $40 000 that she had to pay in the span of five years, and in the event that she couldn’t pay the monthly installments, she would have to pay an interest of 10%- not to mention the damage fee that he included of $10 000.” 

It was at that moment, Chris knew she was never involved. He felt like a huge fog has lifted from his brain, as if he finally cleared his brain after a bad hangover. The past few months felt like a nightmare, but it was then that he realized, this was his reality. His manager and personal assistant tricked him, manipulated him, stole from him, and he believed them when they said that his girlfriend was a part of it all. Even if she was, the way he treated her that night. Chris felt like a monster, a stranger living in his own skin. Looking back, he can’t even recognize himself, the words he said, the things he called her. They were unforgivable.  “Jesus Christ, Jason. I-I-I  fucked up. She wasn’t even at fault, and I blamed her.”

“We don’t know that, Chris. For all we know she could still have some part in this.”

Chris ignored him, shaking his head. He knew, and deep down he’s always known that she was never a part of this all. “Is she still here? Can I see her?” He looked around, desperate to see a glimpse of the woman he thought he would be his fiancee by now. 

“She left already, said she needed to get to work.” 

Scott peered at his brother from the corner of his eyes, looking more worried as Chris’s breathing got uneven. “Hey, hey, hey. C’mon-” He sat him down again, gently easing him into another chair. “C’mon, Chris. You gotta breathe.” 

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Chris cried repeatedly, face turning red at his inability to breathe. “She didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I’ll get him some water,” Jason said, giving his friend some space. 

“She wasn’t- She wasn’t- She didn’t do anything wrong, Scotty.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. We don��t know that.”

“I said so many awful things to her.” Chris cried, his hand covering his mouth as bile crawled up his throat. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.” 

Scott saw how pale Chris had gotten, turning around to grab the small garbage can and put it below the leaning man just as Chris coughed up bile. 

“The- The baby!” Chris exclaimed, inadvertently knocking the paper cup from Jason’s hand as his hand grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Was she- How’s the baby? Did you see her bump? Does she look healthy?” 

Jason didn’t know how to answer that question. Before this whole ordeal, he has only seen Y/N through pictures from the press, and never met her in person. Either way, there was no way she was pregnant when he met her. “She- She didn’t look that pregnant?” Jason said uneasily, not knowing how to break the news. 

“Wh-What?” Chris said to himself, shaking his head. “No… Please, God no… No, no, no... ” He shrunk back on the couch, whimpering how stupid he was, and rubbing his chest as if it could appease the weight on his heart as he realized his mistake.

<-- (Chapter 2)           (Chapter 4) -->

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[ladyartemisia28]

Loop of Despair: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: In the End.

Title reference to the cover by Tommee Profitt.

Word count: 1,740

Warnings: Homophobic Language, self harm, blood, & vomit.

Authors Note: Happy late Groundhog day and I'm sorry

Homophobic Language will be used, I will be marking where it will be starting and where it will be ending.

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousness standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean was unable even able to look at Castiel.

The ghost of Castiel's mouth whispered against his own.

“Did it work?” Cas asks

“Uh, huh” Dean mumbles.

Dean just replays the memory.

The idea of repeating that particular version of the loop was tempting.

‘But that would not stop Cas from dying’

“There is one thing that can.”

He nodded numbly along to his disclosure of the trade his life for Jack's.

Castiel continues his speech to a Dean who was not capable of listening.

“Because the one thing I want is something I know I can't have.”

All Dean wants to do in that moment is response with his own words.

He was at a complete loss. He didn't know what else he could do.

'I've tried to tell him this is a loop and THAT was a waste of time, I've tried to throw myself into the Empty, and I let myself get cut through by that scythe. I tried to gently reject him....'

'I tried to...tried to..'

He couldn't finish that sentence in his mind. All his mind came out was the imagery of Cas's blood.

'And last I tried to tell or I guess show him how I felt.'

'And nothing'

“But I think I know, I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having...it's in just being it's in just saying it.”

'The problem is that he is still happy. Either someone dies or he gets taken'

“What are you talking about Man?” he replies automatically.

'So what I have to do is make sure we both survive AND he is unhappy,'

Cas has a brighter expression on his face as he takes a step forward towards Dean.

'Look at him.'

“I know, I know how you see yourself Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you.

'Ruin his happiness'

“You're destructive, you're angry, You're Broken. You're Daddy's blunt instrument.”

'Take all of the most hurtful things you can think of and say them!'

“You think that hate and anger that's what drives you, that's who you are.”

'I don't want to do this'

“It's not. And everyone who know so you sees it. Everything you have done the good and the bad you have done for Love.”

'Come on, Think of something else!'

“You raise your little brother for love, You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.”

Dean can no longer hold his gaze.

'anything'

“You're the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless loving human being I will ever know.”

'Time is running out!'

Dean had heard Cas's words more than enough time to memorize everything from the words themselves, to the cadence, to the breaks and breaths.

“You know ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell” a tear rolls slowly down Cas's right eye “Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam I cared about Jack I cared about the whole world because of you”

“You changed me Dean”

'I just want you to live...no I NEED you to live!'

“Why does this sound like a goodbye” Dean replies his previous words slower to hopefully stall for more time.

He looks at the slowly approaching figure of Cas until he is once again within arms reach.

'This is save his life'

“Because it is”

“I love you”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw with force to keep his response silent.

Dean hears The Empty appear.

'Showtime'

~

~

~

~

~

*BEGINING OF SPEECH*

Dean shoves Castiel away.

“What the Hell Cas?!” Dean says forcing his voice out harshly.

Cas looks hurt but still not sad enough.

He repeated the words that when he would imagine Castiel would reply to Dean's confession

“I...I'm not interested in that...that is NOT something I Could EVER want!”

Dean felt as though he was swallowing a golf ball.

Cas had previously told him that he understood when Dean gave him the gentle version of a rejection.

So him nodding along to Dean's words were tragic but not surprising.

'You deserve the world Cas. You deserve much better than this.'

Dean remembered when he was thirteen or so maybe fourteen. That was when he first realized that he was attracted to boys as well as girls.

It was 1993 or so. He had never heard of the word bisexual so he was conflict incarnate.

He had just enough youthful bravery to try and make a move on a middle school crush.

His name was Mitchell and he had bonded with Dean over a shared interest in music.

As they sat in the parking lot behind the gas and sip.

He remember every word that the boy had said to Dean in return.

The ones that burned him.

The ones that made him curse himself for ever being so vulnerable.

'I was never so happy to move away.'

“I can't believe I thought we were friends! So as we were hanging out, watching movies, you what? Wanted to shove your tongue down my throat?”

“Anytime we touched....I....you” Dean paused his lies momentarily as he catches his voice waver with the wrong sort of emotion. He clears his throat to reset his voice.

“It make my skin crawl”

He could see Cas looking like he was going to say something. Dean would falter if he hears Cas’s voice so he quickly cut him off.

“...You disgust me.”'

He held his breathe and sees that Billie has been taken by The Empty but it has paused as if it was watching the pair.

'That must mean I'm ruining this moment for him. Go more hurtful.'

Cas's face looked similar to the time that he kicked the newly human man out of the bunker years ago, confused and hurt.

Dean pulled more of his deeply painful memories to the surface.

When it came to romance he was not brave enough to try again with another boy until he was 16. He was the son of a hunter that they were working on a case with. They were hanging out alone in the motel room.

This time it reciprocated.

But he was caught by his father.

John Winchester was not known for his being a kind and loving parent.

The violence was not what he remembered for years.

It was the words that cut into him for years.

The ones that made him feel guilt and self loathing when he found himself flustered by male attention.

The ones that silenced him.

“I thought I knew you? But you've been lying to me.” Dean paused to take a shaky breath.

The knives that were in his heart for years Dean took them and stabbed them into Cas's heart.

'Please be sad enough that I don't have to say anymore.'

“I'm willing to forget about this. You are too useful to keep around on hunts. But if you EVER try to say something like this you're gone!” he hears the anger and hatred in his voice.

He hates many things.

Mitchell

John

Whatever is causing the horror loop.

Himself

'But not you Cas.'

He felt like he was in a prison. Like he was trapped in his body watching a living nightmare happen.

But continues to cause Cas the type of haunting emotional pain that he himself had suffered for years.

'Maybe this won't hurt as much since he's an angel and human insults don't mean as much...no he understands what words mean and he understands when they are hurtful and hateful. This isn't 2008 Cas!'

He almost couldn't continue his parroting of his homophobic father's words.

But his mind conjures images.

Cas peacefully surrendering himself to The Empty.

Cas being killed by Billie

Cas bleeding out.

Cas being forcefully torn from his arms

It propelled him harshly forward.

“You are such a fucking disappointment. You...” he quietly said more to himself as he could not find another way to save his angel.

He whimpered out one final word, a slur, before a lurch of nausea overwhelmed him as forced himself from puking.

“Fag”

~

~

~

~

*END OF SPEECH*

He turns to stare at the wall, he could not bear to look at Castiel.

“I'm sorry Dean.” Castiel's deep voice sounded so hurt that Dean immediately wanted to turn around and take back the words. Instead he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots The Empty float in front of Cas.

Dean closed his eyes and holds his breathe as he waits for the time loop to start again.

The Empty.

It speaks in a inhuman voice.

“I wanted you to suffer. This is more painful than anything I could ever do to you.”

He felt the death grip on his heart more painful than any other time. He opened his eyes expecting to be in his usual spot near the entrance.

“You get to live with this, You're welcome.”

He turned his head in shock to see the Shadow get smaller and smaller until it was completely gone. and Castiel's defeated form looking with dull eyes at the floor.

He quickly returned his eyes to look at the wall.

“We need to go find Sam and Jack.” Cas whispers with a heart wrenching tone moved out of the room. “I...I will meet you at the car.”

Dean fell to the ground catching himself with his hands and he rid his stomach of it's contents.

He wiped the puke from the corners of his mouth, took another moment and still nothing.

He stands and hits the wall again and again, his body does not allow the relief from tears.

He took a painful punishing grip of his own left shoulder. Where the absence of Cas's hand print solidified the realization that this was the finally the end of the loop.

'I am so sorry Cas.'