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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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Always be my plus one - part 2

Ok I know that I should use a different gif for each part but I'm not going to. But here's part 2! It's longer than the first part so have fun.

People to thank who are amazing and I owe my whole life to even though I'm probably forgetting someone because I'm the worst: @zinka8 (I CAN FINALLY TAG YOU) @hockeywocs @calgarycanuck @chara-hugs @justjosty anyone who sent in an anon and again I'm forgetting someone so if you helped me with this and I forgot, yell at me.

But here we go! This is about 9k words, and, fun fact, this is also my 5,000th post on this blog, so that's exciting!

Hope you like it!

Read part 1 here!

Series masterlist --------------------------------

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day

New Year’s Eve is the last day of the Georgian calendar year, marked with celebrations that last well into the next day. Huge parties take place around the world, one of the most notable being the ball dropping in Times Square in New York City, marking the new year for the eastern coast of the United States, televised with Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve hosted by Ryan Seacrest. This special each year includes a packed Times Square, performances, interviews, and general excitement to put whatever happened in the past year behind them. Likewise, in Canada, the CBC has hosted a similar countdown special since 2017, including live music and coverage of festivities in each of the provinces and timezones the country spans.

New Year’s Day is the first day of the Georgian calendar year, again marked with celebrations. In the United States, various parades take place, including the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California, or the Mummers Parade in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In addition, various sporting events take place as well, including the Citrus Bowl in Orlando, Florida, the Outback Bowl in Tampa Bay, Florida, the Rose Bowl Game in Pasadena, California, and the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, Louisiana, all post-season college football games, and the National Hockey League's outdoor game, the Winter Classic, typical showcasing a major regional rivalry. The day typically includes people already failing at keeping up with their New Year’s resolutions, whatever it was they promised to do every day of the year (such as working out, flossing, getting more sleep) already not going well.

=============

December 27, 2021

Lucy had insisted Anne go with her to the mall to go shopping when she found out that she was going to a New Year’s Eve party with Tyson’s teammates. Once her older sister found out that Anne’s ‘mystery man’ was a professional hockey player, she went practically bat shit trying to figure out more information about the two of them since Anne had yet to tell her anything.

If only she knew there was nothing to tell.

“Come on, what about this?” Lucy asks, holding up a dress. Anne wasn't sure that it would go past her butt, not to mention the open back and the plunging neckline. Lucy had to know that Anne would never, on any occasion, wear a dress like that. It would look good on Lucy, and Lucy would be comfortable in it, but not Anne.

“No,” Anne tells her, continuing to look through the rack for anything that had more fabric to it than what Lucy was offering her. There was nothing wrong with the dresses, really, and Lucy was normally pretty good about picking things out that Anne would actually like, but something about this being a dress for what sort of was, sort of wasn’t a date with a guy she spilled her coffee all over was making her more nervous than she needed to me.

“But it’s for your man. On New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t hurt to look a little sexy,” Lucy begs, making sure to add a little shoulder shimmy at the word ‘sexy’ for emphasis.

‘He’s not my man,’ Anne wanted to say. But she wasn’t about to spill that secret before Lucy even met him. It would be easier to just tell them they broke up by Valentine’s Day. “Tyson wouldn’t want me to wear anything that would make me uncomfortable,” she lets out instead.

Lucy sighs, pulling out dress after dress to show to Anne. “Ok, how about this: what color do you want to wear and how long do you want it to be?” Anne shrugs, not having thought about it in the slightest. “Well what’s Tyson wearing? Are you matching with him?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Annie!” Lucy practically screams the nickname her family decided they were going to call her, a few of the other store patrons turning to glare at Lucy’s outburst. “How do you not know what your boyfriend is wearing to a Colorado Avalanche New Year’s Eve party?”

'Not my boyfriend' she thought. “I don’t dress him. Do you know what Jason is going to wear for every party?”

Rolling her eyes, she holds up another dress that Anne turns down. “Well, since I’ve known my man since we were in diapers, I know his style, and therefore, know what he could potentially wear before I tell him what he’s going to wear.”

Anne lets out a sigh, wandering away from her sister while she continues to go through what seemed to be endless rows of dresses. Part of Anne wished she was like her sister: lucky enough to find a man that she would love forever when she was young, never having to worry about anything. The other part of Anne wished her family wasn’t so annoying about her finding a man, wishing that Sebby didn’t steal her phone and see Tyson’s name, and that their mom hadn’t come down and jumped to conclusions before she had a chance to defend herself.

“Hey,” Lucy comes up to Anne, “Why don’t we grab some food and then try a different store.” Anne nods, Lucy linking her arm in her sisters before taking her out of the store. “Have you met any of Tyson’s teammates before? I mean, you have to mean a lot to him if he’s bringing around the guys he spends the most time with.”

“He’s told me a little bit about all of them, but I haven’t met them yet.”

“You know this is big, then, right?” Lucy says, finding a line at the food court for them to order from.

Even if Lucy hadn’t picked a place that Anne wasn’t too fond of, her words made Anne lose her appetite. As far as she knew, Anne’s family thought they were dating, which they weren’t, while Tyson’s teammates thought they were friends, which they were. That’s what they had agreed to. They just needed to make it to New Year’s Day and then this would all be over.

Lucy keeps talking, rattling off information about Tyson’s teammates that Anne was sure she had found on their Wikipedia pages, Lucy’s ‘top of her class,’ ‘photographic memory’ coming out while Anne stayed silent.

“Look, Anne,” Lucy says once she gets the food she ordered for both of them, “if he likes you enough to bring you around his teammates, that’s a good thing. Think of it like Jason asking me to go to his soccer games when we were freshmen. He wants you to be at something important for him.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Anne shrugs, “I’m worried about bringing him into the belly of the beast the next afternoon.”

“Why, because you’ll be hungover and Ma and Dad haven’t seen you that way yet?” Lucy asks, smiling with her fork between her teeth.

Throwing her head back and groaning, Anne starts, “No. Ideally, we’ll still be drunk and calling you or Matthew to come to pick us up. Remember what Mom was like when I introduced you all to Andy?”

“Well, yeah, it was hate at first sight. And she was right to feel that way, obviously. If you think Tyson is the ‘one,’ then you’ll be fine.”

Anne chokes on the fries she was picking at when Lucy says that. “The ‘one’? Please. I wouldn’t know if he was the ‘one’ at this point. Right now, he’s my ‘plus one' at best.”

Lucy shrugs, a sly smile on her face as the two of them continue to eat in silence.

The two of them venture to another store, Anne not having high hopes in finding a dress, knowing that she was going to have to resort to wearing something old that probably wouldn’t be very ‘New Year’s Eve’ themed, or borrow something from Lucy, who, albeit having great style, definitely didn’t have anything that she would want to wear. Maybe she could call Stephanie or her cousin Lauren and see if they could pity her enough to let her borrow something.

Lucy went to the dress rack, Anne just wandered around the store. At this point, she didn’t even care if she found a dress; a long shirt would be just fine. She was nowhere near her sister or the dresses, but she saw something out of place, a skirt and sleeves peeking out in the middle of pant legs. She picked up the dress, solid black, which would probably fit her like a glove, off the shoulder. A black choker, which she had, and a nice pair of heels would make the dress perfect. And it was even on sale. Someone had probably put it there in order to hide it, but Anne didn’t know that for a fact, so could she really feel bad about wearing it?

She practically ran through the store to find her sister, grabbing her by the arm to the dressing room despite the stack of dresses on Lucy’s arm that were probably going to end up back on the rack or in Lucy’s own closet.

Anne looked at herself in the mirror, excited for the first time for Tyson to see her on New Year’s Eve wearing something like that. The two had been talking nonstop, but Anne had made it clear they were friends and that she wasn’t looking for anything. If something came along, she would know it, and honestly, she didn’t know it with Tyson.

But picturing him seeing her in the dress gave her a glimmer of hope that it was Tyson, even if he wasn’t the ‘one’ like Lucy had been badgering her about earlier.

“Hey, Annie, come on!” Lucy snaps Anne out of her fantasy, banging on the door to show her, “Jason texted me that he and the girls are going to be home in an hour with dinner so you can’t take all day.”

“You really think putting on this dress is going to take an hour?” Anne huffs, opening the door from the dressing room stall.

“Well, it depends on how many dresses you try,” Lucy starts, cutting herself off when she sees her sister in the dress. “Oh, Anne.”

“You like it?” she asks, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. It was a simple dress, knit and insignificant. She had no idea why she was so excited about it.

“I do,” Lucy says, coming up behind Anne and resting her chin on her sister’s shoulder as the two of them admire Anne in the mirror. “And you know who else is going to love it? Tyson.”

Anne took in a deep breath, Lucy rubbing her back between her shoulders before she let her get changed back into her clothes. ‘Tyson was going to love it.’ Anne hoped so.

=============

December 31, 2021

Tyson said he was going to be at Anne’s place at 9:15 to pick her up and drop off stuff at her place to stay over. Since they were going to be together all night, it was easier if Tyson stayed with Anne after the party before needing to drive to Anne’s uncle’s house the next afternoon.

But it was 9:30, and Anne was sitting on her couch, waiting for the boy who was supposed to fake being her boyfriend tomorrow to show up to take her to a party with a bunch of people who had no idea who she was or that this scenario was going to be happening the next day.

How did Anne end up like this? What if he didn’t show up? Why did she let her mom and siblings take over the conversation about her life and let them believe that Tyson was her boyfriend? And why did he agree to it?

Anne gets snapped out of her downward spiral of thoughts by her phone ringing, Tyson calling to hopefully tell her that he was waiting to be let in. “You said you were going to be here at 9:15,” she answers, not letting Tyson say anything.

“Well, traffic,” he explains, “It’s New Year’s Eve and I didn’t want to speed, either, and end up getting pulled over for that. Can you come let me in? It’s cold.”

Anne gets up from her couch, venturing downstairs in the slippers she was keeping on until the last minute. The heels Lucy had let her borrow weren’t uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to wear them around her apartment building if she didn’t have to. She spots Tyson sitting on the couches in the lobby, going up to him. He was looking down at his phone, but seeing him made her heart race. He had on a white button-down with the top two buttons undone, a black jacket, and black pants on. She goes up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Tyson looks up, unable to find the words when he sees Anne. He stands up, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Anne sees this and lets out a small laugh. “Are you ok?” she asks, her nerves of seeing him dissipate while he acts like this.

“You’re,” he starts, letting out a breath as he looks her up and down. He shakes his head, a lazy smile on his face. “You’re beautiful.”

Anne laughs, grabbing his bag for him and leading him back upstairs to her apartment. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You know,” Tyson starts when the two of them get to her door, “pretending to be your boyfriend really isn’t going to be that difficult.”

“Yeah,” Anne scoffs, putting down Tyson’s bag with a thud by the couch, “and if you keep flirting with me like you mean it, then they’ll really believe you.” Anne’s back was turned to Tyson, so she didn’t see the look on his face, him biting his lip at her words that she thought he was just pretending. “You’re staying over for a night, what the hell could you have brought with you?” she asks him.

Tyson clears his throat, still not over Anne’s little dig about him pretending to flirt with her. He’s been flirting with her since they met, has she really not noticed? “Uh, you didn’t tell me how formal or casual this is at your uncle’s so I just packed a few options.”

“Huh, I never pegged you for a fashionista,” Anne teases, putting on her shoes and coat as Tyson orders the Uber to take them to the venue.

“Apparently you’re never going to peg me at all,” Tyson mumbles, not loud enough for Anne to hear.

“Sorry?”

“Uh, the Uber will be here in a few minutes so we should get downstairs,” he tries to save himself.

“But,” Anne says, locking her door and following Tyson back down to the lobby, “You can pretty much wear anything to Uncle Vince’s house as long as it isn’t a Juventus shirt.”

“Juventus?”

“That’s Napoli’s biggest rival. It would be like me wearing, I don’t know,” Anne says as they both get into the car that had pulled up, “a Red Wings or a Wild shirt to something for you guys.”

Tyson can’t help but smile, even though he knows it’s probably meaningless. Anne had made it clear that the two of them were just friends. But what if, “you like hockey?”

Anne shrugs, looking out the window as they drove into the city. “I don’t hate it, but I couldn’t tell you much about it. I’m more of a basketball girl, honestly.” Tyson scoffs, Anne turning to him. She had a smile on her face, trying to hide the slight insult she felt by the noise he made. “What?”

“Hockey is clearly better.”

“You’re just biased.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he teases her, reaching over and nudging her arm. His hand lingers on her arm for a little bit, not really thinking about Anne’s noticeable settling into his touch. “Um,” he clears his throat, taking his arm back and praying that it was dark enough that Anne couldn’t see the red on his face, “What are your teams?”

“Men’s are the Nuggets, of course, women are the Seattle Storm, and college I go for UConn.”

“Did you go there?”

Anne shakes her head, Tyson admiring the way her hair framed her face, thankful that she was looking out the window instead of at him. “Nope, I went to CU Denver. My dad’s other brother, Johnny, went to UConn, and when I was born, that was around the start of the women’s dynasty that they have. When my dad was away on trips and mom was working, he and Aunt Lisa would watch the four of us and always have the UConn games on. I fell in love with Diana Taurasi, Sue Bird, Maya Moore, Stephanie Dolson. I grew up wanting to play basketball and be like them, so I played basketball.”

“Did you in college?”

“No,” Anne laughs, looking at the building they were pulling up to. “I played until high school, and was definitely not good enough to play in college. I still love it, though.”

Tyson smiles at her, getting out of the car and rushing to the other side to help her out, linking his arm in hers to escort her in. “I love that,” he whispers to her, walking in and thankful that he had Anne on his arm that night.

The guys weren’t necessarily on his case about finding someone the way it seemed like Anne’s parents were, but that didn’t stop the chirping about him never having a girlfriend for as long as he was on the team. They knew she was his friend, but, hey, it was better than nothing.

Anne had no idea where Tyson took her, not recognizing the building they had walked into, but she was speechless at the sight of the grand ballroom, the lighting just dim enough that she couldn’t help but feel at peace, the noise from Tyson’s teammates and their families taking that away and leaving her overwhelmed. Tyson had slipped away to hang up their coats and grab drinks, leaving Anne to fend for herself for the time being.

She knew they weren’t late by any means but based on the sobriety, or lack thereof, that everyone was displaying, an outsider would think that Tyson and Anne had shown up hours late, everyone seemingly on at least their third drink of the night, if not more. Anne worked her way to the side of the room, giving herself a good view of the bar where Tyson was, hoping that he could find her after he was done chatting with whoever it was that had his attention.

“You look almost too comfortable for someone just watching everyone on the side. Who are you here with?” someone interrupts her thoughts. She snaps her attention to the mystery man standing next to her, leaning against the wall and looking out at the crowd as they danced and sang, drank and had fun. He was the same height as Tyson, just about, probably not that much younger but the rosiness on his cheeks made him look years younger than both her and Tyson.

“I’m here with Tyson,” she tells him, waving to the guy who was supposed to be by her side that night.

“You’re the girl who spilled her coffee on him when we went to the hospital for the charity event,” Rosy Boy laughs.

Anne scoffs, “I wish that wasn’t my legacy, but here we are.”

The two of them stand and watch everyone, laughing as some of the kids pretend to chase around the adults, one of them catching someone by the leg as the man pretended to fall down. “That’s our captain, Gabe,” Rosy Boy tells her, “being chased by Naylah, Nazem’s daughter.”

“So, Gabe, Nazem, Tyson,” Anne says, pointing at the only three men of the Avalanche that she knew, “You?”

“Cale Makar.”

“Anne DeFormicola.”

Cale smiles at her, turning his body so he was facing her directly. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Anne could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, thankful that her hair was down to cover the red that she knew had appeared on her ears. “Uh, are you and Tyson together?” Cale asks, his voice shaking as he prayed he didn’t make the mistake of flirting with one of his teammate’s girls.

“No,” Anne tells him, “We’re just friends.”

Cale lets out a sigh of relief. “Good, I, uh,” he stammers, Anne’s confused look making him nervous despite the smile that was on her face, “I mean, good, good for me. You? Us? I don’t know what I’m saying.”

The two of them laugh together, Anne seeing Tyson out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look particularly thrilled as he watched her and Cale talking, the distance between them shrinking as the conversation proceeded.

Before she knew it, Tyson was by her side, a glass of wine in hand for her that he practically thrust in her hand. “So, how’s Cale treating you?” Tyson asks, not hiding the discontent he felt seeing Anne and Cale so obviously flirting.

Anne watches Tyson down his drink, a little too fast for her liking, especially considering Cale was obviously uncomfortable by what his teammate was doing in that moment. “Very well, we were having a good conversation.” Anne sips her wine, Cale mumbling something and slipping away. “What was that about?”

“I want you to be careful?” Tyson says as if it were obvious, even though he was lying. He didn’t want to have to see Anne flirting with his teammate all night.

“Of who, Cale? Didn’t you tell me he was the human equivalent of a puppy?” Tyson rolls his eyes, looking over to the bar and already wishing he had more to drink before having this conversation. “What’s the worst he’s going to do? Bite my ankles? Bark when he wants to go play outside?”

“Ok, you’re being mean.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” Anne studies his face, the way he bit his lip as he tried to find his words. “You remind me of Sebby.”

“Your little brother?” Tyson asks, not really wanting to be compared to him.

“He’s really protective of me. We’re all protective of each other, but he’s especially protective of me. You’re probably the same way with Kacey, right?”

Tyson swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah.” He wasn’t even just friend-zoned: he was sibling-zoned.

“You just don’t want me to get hurt,” Anne reasons, already finishing her wine. It’s not like it was that much in the glass. “I think if anyone was going to hurt me, it wouldn’t be Cale.”

The two of them stand there, watching Tyson’s teammates dancing as the music changed to something more upbeat. On the nearest table, Tyson put down his and Anne’s empty glasses, extending his hand out to Anne in a bid to lead her to the dance floor. Anne hesitates, not really too fond of dancing, but then Tyson smiled at her, raising his eyebrows, and for whatever reason, she felt like she had to go with him.

His hand found the small of her back, holding her close enough that they could still talk over the blaring from the music, his other hand in hers as he tried to get her to move to the rhythm of the song. It’s not that Anne was uncoordinated, but she just wasn’t that great with dancing. “I would have thought you were better at this,” Tyson teases her, looking down at their feet as Anne steps on for what he thought was the fourth time.

“I will gladly go back to my place against the wall and watch you make a fool out of yourself by yourself instead,” she jokes, rolling her eyes as Tyson spins her around.

He pulls her in closer than before, the music changing to a slower song. “I don’t think you want to do that,” Tyson tells her, his forehead pressed against hers. He could kiss her right now if she let him. This was technically their second date, if they considered the coffee place their first. And Tyson did. He didn’t know why he wanted this girl in front of him so badly so fast, but there was just something about her that he had to be with her.

Before Anne could say anything, she feels someone tapping on her shoulder. Pulling away from Tyson, she sees Cale standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. His entire face was red, clearly nervous, as he started, “Uh, sorry, but I was wondering if I could dance with Anne?”

Anne smiles at him, looking over at Tyson to signal that she wanted to. Cale was adorable, and something about him left Anne unable to say no to him. Tyson gives a sad smile, releasing Anne from his grasp. “I’m going to go get another drink,” he says, leaving his date and teammate alone to be closer than they were before. He couldn��t be with a girl that didn’t want to be with him, he thought, downing the drink he got probably too fast. At least tomorrow he could pretend that the two of them were together, pretending that he was hers and she was his.

But for now, he had to watch Anne smiling and staring at Cale, his teammate holding her so close that Tyson wanted nothing more than to be Cale.

Tyson had his back against the bar, watching Cale and Anne dance and have fun when JT came up to him. “Didn’t you bring a date?” JT was the only one Tyson had told about the fake dating plan between him and Anne.

“Yep.”

“She in the bathroom?”

“She’s dancing with Cale,” Tyson says, raising what he thinks was his third drink in their direction. He was praying that they couldn’t get any closer than they were now, but the way Anne was smiling, he knew that was what she wanted.

JT looks between Anne and Cale together and Tyson’s near angry expression as he took another sip of his drink. “Oh, I get it,” JT realizes, Tyson side-eyeing his friend. “You like her, and now you’re seeing her with Cale and you’re jealous.”

Tyson could feel himself start to panic. He did like her, but he wasn’t about to let everyone know that. “No,” he lies, JT scoffing at him. He hated that he knew him so well. “Maybe.”

“Well, then why aren’t you the one dancing with her?” JT asks, Tyson watching Anne throw her head back laughing, Cale burying his head in her shoulder, a smile just as big as hers on his face.

“She wanted to dance with him. What was I going to do, say ‘no?’

“Yes.”

“No,” he rebuts, signaling the bartender for yet another drink. “At least I can pretend to date her around her family,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, until she pretends to dump you because she’s really dating Cale.”

“Maybe in the new year you should try to be more helpful instead of whatever you are now,” Tyson snaps. “Sorry,” he mumbles into the fresh drink he was bringing to his lips, planning on downing it as fast as he got it. If he had to watch Anne dancing with Cale, he might as well be drunk so he can’t remember it in the morning.

“It’s almost midnight,” Cale whispers to Anne.

“Yeah,” she smirks, having a feeling she knew where this was going, especially judging by the way his grip tightened around her waist.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, getting nervous about what he wanted to ask her. “Who are you kissing at midnight?"

Anne can’t help but smile, his innocence endearing to her. Tyson and JT were still watching the two of them dance even though Anne and Cale were too focused on each other to notice. “I think it depends on your answer,” she flirts.

“I was kind of hoping it would be you,” he tells her.

Anne laughs, “Yeah, I got that,” she tells him, running her hand through his hair at the nape of his neck, sending a chill down his spine. “I was hoping it would be you, too,” she tells him, closing her eyes with their foreheads pressed against each other. She almost wished she had spilled her coffee on Cale instead of Tyson, not needing to pretend to date him tomorrow and instead just date Cale and date him for real. It might have been the alcohol or the night that was making her feel this way, but Cale was not a hard guy to like.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Tyson mumbles, not wanting to see Anne and Cale anymore, setting his drink down and leaving the room before JT could protest.

Soon after, everyone began their countdown to midnight, chanting while Anne and Cale stayed silent.

Anne knew Cale wanted to kiss her before the countdown was over. He was hovering against her lips as soon as someone yelled ‘ten!’ She didn’t know what it was about him, but she was ready to kiss him, not waiting for everyone to get past ‘five’ before she connected with him for a second, already wanting more as soon as they started.

Cale pulled away fast, smiling, moving his hands from her waist to cup her face, kissing her as soon as everyone around them was screaming ‘Happy New Year!’ When they finally pulled away, Cale’s entire face was red, and Anne knew that there was some color on her cheeks, too. Kissing Cale was something else, but something was missing. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

=============

January 1, 2022

Anne and Cale danced a little longer, some of the guys and their families starting to leave.

“I think I have to go find Tyson,” Anne tells Cale, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy she came with for the better part of an hour.

“Uh, wait,” Cale says as Anne starts to pull away, Anne stopping as Cale smiles at her. He puts on her jaw, tilting her head up to kiss her again. “Can I see you again?”

Anne smiles, biting her lip. “I’d like that. But I really have to find Tyson.”

The two of them start walking around, trying to locate their lost boy. “Are you coming back with us?”

“Us?”

“Tys and I live in the same building,” Cale explains, part of him wanting to ask Anne to go home with him.

Before he can, Anne starts, “No, Tyson is staying at my place tonight. We have something tomorrow. Today,” she corrects herself.

“Oh, ok. Well, then, can I get your number?”

“When we find Tyson because he has the ticket for our coats and my phone is in my coat,” she explains, regretting giving everything to Tyson.

“Anne!” they hear someone yell, turning around to see Tyson stumbling over despite JT trying to help him up. Anne hadn’t told him not to get very drunk out of caution for having to deal with her family in a few hours, but now she was regretting forgetting.

“How much did he drink?” Anne panics, slinging Tyson's free arm around her shoulder.

“When I got to him he was already on four and I think he had at least three more while I was with him. I couldn’t tell you what he had on his own,” JT explains, the four of them getting their stuff and trying to get out while Tyson could barely walk.

Tyson mumbles something, trying to lean his head against Anne’s shoulder while they walked, despite the three-inch height difference that would have been bigger had Anne not been wearing heels. JT asks him to repeat it while he orders and Uber to get Tyson and Anne home. “Anne’s so pretty,” Tyson says, practically screaming it in Anne’s ear.

“Thank you, Tyson,” she says, trying to be as sweet as she could despite her anger she felt for him getting this drunk.

Tyson keeps babbling incoherently, none of them wanting to try to figure out what he was saying while they were waiting in their Ubers.

“Hey, Anne, hand me your phone,” JT asks, trying to reach out to her with his free hand while also making sure Tyson didn’t fall over or fall on Anne. She does as he asks, Cale standing there wondering why he didn’t just do that in the first place. “Text me when you two get back to your place and let me know how he is before you leave for your Uncle’s.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anne says, not even thinking about how he would have known where the two of you were going later.

Before Cale can ask for Anne’s phone, the Uber for her and Tyson pulls up. “Are you sure you’re good to get him back?” Cale asks her while JT gets Tyson in the car safely.

Anne nods, putting her hand on Cale’s bicep to reassure him. “Yeah, he should sober up enough to walk with just me during the drive back. Thank you, though,” she says, giving him a quick kiss before climbing into the car.

“I wish it was me,” Tyson slurs, his head on Anne’s shoulder as the Uber pulls away.

“What’s that, Tyson?” Anne asks.

“I wish it was me that was kissing you.”

Anne looks at him, his eyes closed as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “When?”

“At midnight. I wanted to kiss you at midnight. I just hope you didn’t kiss Cale. That would make me sad,” he says, letting out a yawn.

Before Anne could say anything to respond, Tyson was asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and the Uber driver probably hoping they remembered this to tell their friends in the morning. Why would he have wanted to kiss her? They were just friends. They had both made it very clear that everything they were doing was just out of friendship because they both needed someone to be there for the other and just pretend they were something they were not.

This wasn’t going to be like one of those ‘fake dating’ tropes that Anne had read in books when she was a teenager or in rom coms. Those weren’t real life. That didn’t happen.

Anne gets Tyson up to her apartment, surprised that she was able to drag him out of the Uber and balance him long enough that he didn’t fall over and take her with him to the ground. She practically threw him onto her bed, getting him in position so no matter what happened he would be fine. He was asleep almost immediately, a soft snore coming from his lips.

Anne pulls out her phone to text JT that his teammate was asleep, getting herself ready to go sleep on the couch.

The next morning, Anne woke up to Tyson sitting at her kitchen table, already having helped himself to a cup of coffee. “You look like you’re feeling great,” Anne commented, Tyson clearly hungover from the night before.

“Why did I wake up in your bed and not your couch?” Tyson asked.

Anne shrugs, fixing herself a cup of coffee to join him. “You’re my guest and the couch isn’t the most comfortable thing to fall asleep on if you aren’t used to it.”

“You are?”

“I’ve fallen asleep plenty of times while I was reading on that couch,” Anne tells him, wishing she had something to offer him to eat. “Uh, when we get to my uncle’s house, there’s going to be a ton of food so if we didn’t eat now, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Tyson nods, looking down at his coffee. He wished that he didn’t have to pretend to be Anne’s boyfriend. He already wanted to be more, but Cale was already closer to that in one night than Tyson was in how many weeks. “What do I need to know about your family before I meet them?”

Anne starts rambling about her family: her grandparents moved back to New York which was where they grew up so she hasn’t seen them in a while because they’re too old to make the trip out here and she hasn’t had time to make the trip to see them. They were going to her Uncle Vince’s house, her dad’s older brother. He has three kids, Michael, Emily, and Spencer, all of them dating someone. Then there’s Uncle Johnny, her dad’s younger brother, who has two kids, Lauren and Landon, and three grandkids from Lauren: Christopher, Lydia, and Henry.

Tyson didn’t even know if he was going to remember everything she was saying; from the food that Johnny brings just for Landon because of allergies, or the food that was designated as ‘the kid's food’ which was absolutely off-limits unless you were under the age of five years old. The Sam Adams’ beer is only meant for Aunt Lisa and Aunt Laura unless they offer it to you, but the wine is a free for all because it’s guaranteed that everyone of age brought their own bottle anyway, including Anne.

“Wait, but I don’t have a bottle,” Tyson asks, both of them getting up to get ready.

Anne smiles at him, going into one of her cabinets. “You want white or red?” she asks, holding up two bottles. “Because, as you know, I’m partial to red.”

Tyson laughs, taking the bottle of white wine from her, not even sure if he should be drinking anything given the night before. He was just lucky he somehow didn't feel worse despite how much he had. “I knew you were my kind of girl.”

They stand there for a second, neither of them sure how to react or what to do. “We should go get ready,” Anne says, bringing the bottles over to where she kept her keys so she wouldn’t forget them.

She retreats to her room, leaving Tyson to get ready out in the open of the rest of her apartment. That wasn’t a moment they just had in her kitchen, she tells herself. She puts on a pair of jeans, trying to find a shirt suitable enough for her mom to not nag her about, finally settling on a sweater that she was almost sure was Lucy’s that she stole a few months ago.

“Hey, Anne,” she hears Tyson calling her. “Someone’s calling you.”

An unknown number flashed on her screen in Tyson's hand, her forgetting she left the phone by the couch. Normally an unsaved contact was something that she wouldn’t answer, but the Calgary area code, for no reason whatsoever, told her that she had to answer it. “Hello?”

“Anne? It’s Cale. Sorry, I got your number from JT.”

Anne smiles, looking at Tyson who could hear his teammate's voice just loud enough that it made him upset. Tyson’s words from the night before rang through Anne’s mind as she finally answered him back, “Hey, no, it’s fine. What’s up?” Anne goes back into her room to finish getting ready, putting Cale on speaker as she does.

“I just wanted to check on you. And Tyson, I mean, that you were ok with him last night.”

Anne laughs at his nerves, the same ones that came through when they were first talking last night that she was thankful had faded as time went on. “Yeah, we’re fine. We’re getting ready to head out, though.”

“Any idea what time you would be done? I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight?”

She could hear his voice shaking, wishing that she could say yes. “I can’t tonight, but maybe another time?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, both of them saying goodbye as Anne grabs what she needs to head out.

“You ready?” she asks Tyson. He looked good, a simple black button-down he had paired with jeans. Why did he have to look good? Tyson nods, grabbing the wine while Anne grabbed her keys.

The two of them drive in silence, her phone plugged into her car with Cale and JT’s contacts popping up on the screen on her center console as they were texting her. “I’m glad you got along with some of the guys last night,” Tyson tells her, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah, me too. Especially since someone seemed to enjoy the bar more than anything else,” she teases.

“Hey, the bartender was attractive, and giving free drinks, what was I supposed to do?”

Anne laughs, knowing that wasn’t the real reason he was there the entire night. She didn’t know what that reason was, but it wasn’t because of the looks of the person giving Tyson drinks. “What do you remember from last night?”

Tyson hesitates, really not sure what to answer. “I remember the drinks and you were dancing with Cale at some point.”

“You remember none of the Uber drive back?”

He almost did. He knew he had fallen on Anne’s shoulder, but he didn’t remember getting into the car with her. He wasn’t even sure that Anne was the one that got him in the car. “Not really, no.”

“Ok,” Anne says, partially thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she would want to relive the part of the night, nor did she think Tyson would either.

She pulls up to her uncle’s house, already seeing Lucy’s car and her cousin Spencer's sitting in the driveway. “Ready to enter the belly of the beast?” she asks him, patting his thigh as a sign of encouragement.

Tyson looks out to the house, seeing someone standing in the doorway waiting for them to get out of the car. “We’ve gotta start acting like a couple, now, don’t we?” he says, leaning closer to her across the center console.

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing that he wanted a kiss or something, anything to show Aunt Laura that Tyson was actually her boyfriend. She does kiss him, sweet and slow. Tyson was sure if they weren’t being watched, he would have gone for more, but knowing he couldn’t was killing him. He had to make the most of the time he had with Anne’s family.

When Anne pulled away, she reached up to Tysons face, grazing her thumb along his beard as his hand connected with hers. She didn’t know why, but she kissed him again, their foreheads pressed together as they sat there in her car. It was different kissing him compared to Cale. A good different, and like last night, she couldn't put her finger on why. She almost forgot where they were, startled by Aunt Laura knocking on her window.

Anne’s face had to be bright red, embarrassed that her aunt saw whatever moment, real or fake or whatever that was, while sitting in the driveway of her house. She greets her aunt as she gets out of the car, handing her the two bottles of wine.

“You must be Tyson!” she says, more excited than Anne thought she would be. “Teresa’s told us so much about you, come in, come in,” she gestures. Anne was sure that she would have dragged him in by the collar of his shirt if she didn’t have the wine in her hands already.

Tyson looks at Anne, confused. “I have no idea what my mom could have said to her,” Anne says. Tyson shrugs, grabbing Anne’s hand as she leads him into the house.

Lucy comes running up as soon as Anne steps through the door, a baby that couldn’t be more than a year old in her arms. “Hey there, Hazel,” Anne coos, taking her goddaughter from her sister. Hazel reaches out, grabbing Anne’s hair as Anne winces at the slight pain from the baby’s pull. “This is Tyson.”

“Hi, pretty girl,” Tyson says, Hazel reaching out, squirming to get away from Anne and into Tyson’s arms. “Is it ok if I hold her?” he asks Lucy, waiting for her to nod before Anne passes her off to him.

Lucy pulls her sister aside, a silly grin on her face. “He’s perfect,” she gushes, “Look at him!” Tyson was bouncing Hazel up and down, Hazel shrieking with glee with him.

“He’s not perfect,” Anne says, “but he might be close.” The sisters laugh, Lucy hugging Anne from behind while they continue to watch Anne’s ‘boyfriend’ interact with Lucy’s youngest daughter. Anne wasn’t even sure if she was really pretending as the rest of her family came into her uncle’s house.

Teresa was practically attached to Tyson the entire time, as were Skylar and Harper once Tyson started playing with them. Literally, Tyson was walking around Uncle Vince’s house with Skylar and Harper clinging to each of his legs. Tyson was the center of attention, Anne wishing that it wasn’t because everyone was just finally excited that Anne found a man.

“What do you think of him?” Anne asks Sebby, the two of them watching Tyson and Matthew talking as if there was no one else was in the room. She had heard ‘touchdown’ and ‘linebacker’ come up in conversation, meaning Matthew was going on a rant about the Broncos, something that he did way too often.

Sebby looks him up and down, pursing his lips while he thought about it. “I’m not sure I trust him.”

“Oh, come on,” Anne whines.

“He’s an athlete. And a professional one, at that,” Sebby throws his hands up in defense. Growing up, Sebby was the only one who didn’t really like sports, feeling they were a waste of time when he could be doing something like reading or studying. Sports were only relevant when his siblings were involved, otherwise, he hated them.

“Give him a chance. Please?” Anne begs, not even sure if it were necessary. “He’s not Andy.”

Sebby narrows his eyes at his sister, jumping slightly as Tyson and Matthew start laughing. “Why didn’t you mention him before Christmas?”

“If you remember, I didn’t mention him at Christmas, you did,” Anne scolds him, trying to figure out what story to tell her brother. “And, it was still new. I didn’t want to say anything if it wasn’t going to be something.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I think so,” Anne lies. At least, she thought she was lying.

Tyson comes over to Anne while she was talking with Sebby about his upcoming semester, his last one before he graduated from college and hopefully entered law school. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder. “You think I could steal her for a second?” he asks.

Sebby narrows his eyes, Tyson a little thrown off by her brother’s reaction. “Sure.”

Tyson brings Anne into another room, praying that no one would walk in on them. “We didn’t talk about anything we could say to your family about how we met,” he brings up.

“I was planning on deferring that to you since I normally can’t get a word in otherwise,” she admits, even though she hadn’t thought about it before.

“That’s not fair,” Tyson says, looking over Anne’s shoulder to see someone in her family looking at the two of them. “Your family is watching.”

Anne follows Tyson’s gaze, turning and waving at Landon and Lauren. She reaches up and puts her hand on Tyson’s cheek, Tyson taking it with his own and kissing the palm of her hand. “When you see how I get pushed aside at dinner, you’ll understand why it’s fair.”

The two of them continue talking about how they were going to go on with the rest of the day, Anne telling Tyson she was fine with everything he had done so far and really didn’t care if he kept doing it. Anne, not wanting to tell Tyson, liked what he was doing. It felt right for some reason. Was Tyson right that it should have been the two of them kissing at midnight and not her and Cale?

Tyson’s drunken confession from the night before was still ringing in her mind when everyone got called to sit down for dinner. Tyson was still, unsurprisingly, the center of attention. His hand was on Anne’s thigh for most of dinner, Lucy’s eyes never leaving as Anne rested her’s in his. The usual rounds of conversation started, asking Lucy about her medical practice, Jason about Andersen’s, his restaurant that bore his family’s name, Matthew and Steph about work at United, Sebby about how he was feeling going into this last semester of college.

Then the conversation was supposed to turn to Anne, normally swamped with questions about Anne’s lack of love life. Instead, of course, the conversation turned to Tyson.

“How did you two meet?” Teresa asks, giving a smug look to her daughter, “Anne hasn’t told us anything about you.”

Tyson hesitates, figuring Anne wouldn’t want her family knowing they met when she spilled her coffee on him. “I was out with some of my teammates after practice one day,” he starts, hoping that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was good enough. “We were at a coffee shop, and I saw Anne there grabbing something before her shift at the hospital. I saw her smile at the barista when she thanked him for taking her order and,” he looks at her, taking Anne and putting it on the table for her family to see. “Something about that smile of hers I just knew I had to talk to her. I needed her in my life and I’m happy she’s in it.”

He kisses the side of her head, whispering, “we have to remember that story now,” against her skin. When he pulls away, Anne smiles at him, signaling that she would. There was no way she could forget that honestly. Why was pretending to like him so easy?

The conversation stays on him for a little longer, Anne never being asked anything. Finally, Emily stands up with Jimmy, saying they had an announcement. “We’re engaged!” she squeals, holding up her left hand with the ring that she either just put on, or no one noticed as the family congratulated her. Jimmy had proposed at midnight, down on one knee right as whoever they were with said ‘Happy New Year!’

“Another wedding!” Teresa yells, Tony rolling his eyes next to her. He didn’t hate weddings, he hated his wife’s need to spend an extravagant amount of money on a new dress and presents for the couple every time. “And then maybe we’ll have one for Anne in the next year, too, oh Tony we’ll get to plan another wedding.”

“Mom!” Anne scolds, Tyson’s face getting bright red. “That ringing in your ears is not wedding bells.”

The rest of the dinner goes on fine, Anne and her siblings off in one of the rooms while their spouses and Tyson were nowhere to be found.

“I think Tyson’s scared of me,” Lucy says, examining her nails.

“He might just be intimidated by you, Signoria Perfezione,” Anne teases her with the nickname Lucy got when she was little, her need for order prevalent from a young age.

“Yeah, he said that Anne told him how smart you were and he didn’t want to feel stupid around you,” Matthew points out.

“Well, shouldn’t he be intimidated by Anne?” Sebby asks.

“I know you’re trying to compliment me, but your tone says otherwise,” Anne says. “Why don’t you like him?”

The three of them look at their youngest siblings. “There’s something off,” he starts, Anne feeling her heart start to race. “He’s like borderline pretending to be with you.”

“Come on, man, you’re paranoid,” Matthew scoffs, Lucy agreeing.

“I mean,” Sebby explains, “He looks at Anne like he wants to be with her, not like he actually is with her.”

“You’re just over analyzing. We’re together. Probably more together than you and Collins are,” Anne fires back, part of her hating that she was lying to her siblings, the other part of her wondering how much of it was a lie.

Sebby shrugs, “Well yeah, because we broke up.” Anne’s jaw drops, Matthew raises his eyebrows in shock, Lucy the only one to scream and actually make a verbal acknowledgment of what he just said. “Yeah, the other night. She finally blew up over the whole, ‘I don’t want to move to Boston or California,’ thing and said if I wasn’t willing to move to be with her then I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Anne says.

"Why didn't you tell us," Lucy asks.

"I see how they act about Anne never being with someone," he says, Anne glaring at him. "I'll just find someone in law school and not say anything unless they ask. Plus, I don’t want to be that far away from you guys. Why would I stay with someone who wants me to do that?” he admits.

“Aw, you do like us!” Lucy teases him, her and Matthew tackling him in a hug while Sebby yells for them to get off, yelling louder when Anne joins in.

“Hey, um,” Tyson interrupts, “Sorry, you’re having a moment.”

“No, no, what’s up?” Anne breaks off, going over to him.

“Your aunt said dessert is out,” he tells them, or, rather, tells Anne with her siblings in earshot.

“See, you’re delusional,” Lucy tells Sebby as they walk past Anne and Tyson into the next room.

Tyson looks at her confused, waiting for an explanation. “I think Sebby’s catching on to us pretending,” she shrugs, really not that worried. She and Tyson could talk later about how long this would go on, and if anyone in the family were to find out that it was fake, Sebby would be the one to keep it quiet.

She goes into the next room, leaving Tyson there by himself. “Yeah, pretending,” he says to himself.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche imagine #avalanche imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey fics #hockey imagines #nhl fics #tyson and anne

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

STEFAN SALVATORE

Fatherly Joy of Letting Go

Requested: no

Prompts: “Aren’t you going to give me the ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll kill you’ talk?”; “Why? My daughter is perfectly capable of killing you herself, should the need arise.”

Credits to @oopsprompts for the perfect prompts! You can find their post on my side-blog ( @fairy-archive ), I reblogged it!

Warning(s): none

Author’s note: I LOVE THIS (915 words wow!)

Tags(general): @fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102 @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @lorenakaspersen @scarletsoldierrr @theravenclawmarauder @httphiddlestan @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre

NOTE: Because I closed requests for One Chicago, I will be opening new tag lists for other fandoms so people on my general tag lists don’t have to be tagged on my all posts. Makes sense? :) <3

Let me know if you want to be added to my TVD (The Vampire Diaries) and TO (The Originals) tag list!

Rebekah maneuvered the golden hairpins into your hair with what looked like actual struggle. "Could you stop moving for a second?"

"I'm trying." You mumbled through gritted teeth. Not only were the hairpins the sole reason your scalp was hurting, but they were also incredibly over the top.

What kind of teenager wears gold encrusted hairpins from the 16th century to a first date in the 21st one. You, apparently.

They seemed extensive even with the fact that you were going out with a century old vampire.

Your lips twisted in distaste when you saw them glimmer under the light.

"These very pins were worn by Anne Knollys in the 16th century. A baroness. Gorgeous if you ask me." Your aunt spoke up, pinning another golden pin into your curls. "Here. All done."

You wanted to asked what the fuss was all about but then again... She probably knew the woman that had once owned the very hairpins that are stuck in your hair.

Rebekah had a way of making things extraordinary. Dressed in casual clothing - a t-shirt and a pair of jeans – it was your hairstyle that spoke volumes and told a story of who you were. Someone confident and naturally beautiful. "Wow."

"I know right?" She beamed, pulling you up with little to no effort. "Now the dress."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Pinch me."

She laughed, "I won't. Because you know it's real."

Getting into the dress was easier said than done. Rebekah was particularly keen on helping you in without moving a single hairpin. The flowy dress had a special shine to it. You looked great.

"You look gorgeous, my love." She mused with a small smile as she fixes the back of your dress.

"You really think so?"

"I bet he won't be able to take his eyes and hands off you tonight," Rebekah remarks, her eyes alight with excitement.

You grasp your dress in your hands and make your way down. Sure enough, light chatter makes its way into your ear as you descend the stairs.

Stefan Salvatore is standing in the grand foyer, talking quietly with your father and uncles. They all look tall and imposing, though Elijah, Kol and your father had a certain air around them. Older vampires, let alone the oldest ones, tended to have weight in their stares, as if the passing centuries had left a tangible heaviness behind their tale.

Stefan is standing in the middle of them with his back facing the staircase.

They cease talking as soon as the clicking of your heels enter their ears, and the smell of your perfume wafts through the air. Stefan turns around, and you feel as if all breath from your lungs was knocked out. You swallow shyly, still not quite unable to meet his stare.

His handsome looks don't deceive. The hero like hair is combed back and styled nicely in a way that made you sure he had help. Underneath the dark expensive suit, he's wearing a milky white dress shirt and a striped gray and deep red silk tie.

Stefan's eyes widen when he catches the sight of you. They rake you from top to bottom, from the golden pins to the tips of your black pointy heels, then back up again before settling to your eyes. Something flared in his eyes, exciting you for what's to come this evening.

He steps forward gracefully as you finish walking down the stairs. "You look beautiful, Y/N," he says before he brushes his warm lips on your knuckles.

"Have fun you two," says Elijah with a smile. Your eyes dart to the expensive bottle of wine he cradles in his arms. Very expensive.

No wonder he's letting you go just like that.

"Don't stay out late," reminds Kol, raising his index finger to Stefan.

"Do we have a curfew?" You ask him jokingly.

"Yes." He informs proudly. "Be back before midnight. I'll be here waiting with my shotgun."

Snickers and light laughs erupt within the groups.

Stefan Salvatore smirks, pulling you close to him. "Aren't you going to give me the 'if you hurt my daughter, I'll kill you' talk?"

He had directed his question at your real father. The one who really had the right to wait for you with his shotgun. Or fangs, in his case.

If it were any other man, he would have him dead before sunrise.

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you – Stefan Salvatore wasn't just anyone.

Not even your dad could kill him thanks to the history the two shared long before you were in the picture.

"Brave as always, Stefan." Klaus mused with a smirk dancing on his lips.

"I try my best." Your date returned in the same matter with a gallant tilt of his head.

Your darling father walked toward you, only you, and took your hands in his like he had done countless of times when you were a child. Something felt different because he didn't want to let go. "You look dashing."

"Thank you, dad."

The kiss he pressed to your cheek was the seal of his approval.

"Why? My daughter is perfectly capable of killing you herself, should the need arise."

"Nik!"

"Relax Rebekah," He brushed her off. "This is me being approving of their relationship."

The air changed and you breathed in relief.

"Now," Your dad clapped. "Off you go. And like Kol said, we will be waiting."

His eyes glowed in yellow for effect.

Stefan only smiled tightly, gripped your waist, and maneuvered you to his flashy car.

"That went well." He muttered, once both of you settled inside and the leather scent of the car's interior seemed to overtake your senses.

"Stefan," you breathed, eyes glimmering under the moonlight. "It couldn't have gone better. Trust me."

MASTERLIST

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries stefan #the vampire diaries klaus #tvd imagine #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader #Stefan Salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore fanfiction #klaus mikaelson daughter #klaus mikaelson daughter imagine #klaus mikaelson daughter one shot #klaus mikaelson daughter fanfic

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mercuryonparklane · 3 years ago

Text

I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009.

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me.

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him.

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent.

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress... Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day.

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc).

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway.

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion...

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

#gaylor crack theory

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 4 years ago

Text

Haylor Thoughts Masterpost

Just Haylor things, just because.

Last updated: 11/22/2021

I ran out of space, here’s the second part to this post for more updated content

Harry’s Songs about Taylor

Taylor’s Songs about Harry

Haylor Kissing in Times Square, NYE 2013 (a new angle showing their faces!!!)

Taylor Walking By Harry at the 2015 BBMAs (Clip)

Why I Think ‘Ready For It’ is About Harry

Masterpost of All Haylor Hangouts (Post "Break-Up" in Public Eye)

Harry Fixing Taylor’s Scarf in a Lobby (cute, lol)

Haylor Communicating Through Cryptic Lyrics from Other Artists' Songs

Timeline for Every Song Written on Fine Line

The Haylor Dynamic Explained

Taylor Wearing Harry's Shirts

The Infamous Attic H & T Would Sneak Into (ft. Ben Winston)

Stevie Nicks Gave Harry and Taylor Exclusive Necklaces

The Haylor Ring

Why If I Could Fly is Haylor

When Haylor Started Dating (Connor Kennedy/Timeline Info) -- Our Story Begins in New York

Sweet Disposition, Riptide, and Harry <\3

Harry and Taylor's Duet of Purple Rain at the 2013 VMAs Afterparty

Bitter Posts Taylor Liked on Socials After Yachtgate (Hendall)

H + T at Jingle Ball 2019

Respectful Discourse on Joe Alwyn/Taylor Swift

Why Only Angel is About Taylor, Not Kendall

Happily & Jealousy for Connor Kennedy

Could Cruel Summer Be About Harry Styles? (Chain Post)

Details on Calvin Harris' Song Olé + How it Touches on the Haylor/Tayvin Dynamic in 2015

Chain Post on Calvin Harris & Haylor

If You Swap 'Creature' with 'Disposition,' Sweet Creature has Some Serious Haylor Parallels

Sweet Creature Theoretical Discourse / II

High Chance that H&T Got Olivia Together

Why ‘Death By a Thousand Cuts” is About Harry (in depth analysis!)

Folklore

The Major Exile Theory Explaining Everything

Addition to the Exile theory (British Crown reference)

Fascinating Theory on How the 'Escapism Chapter' Relates to Haylor

If You Think the lakes Sounds Like 1989--That's Because it Does

Is Harry Styles Behind the Pseudonym, William Bowery?

Taylor Swift's Interview on Exile

Cardigan Footnotes and How They're Similar to Harry's Adore You Monologue @ Tiny Desk (Clip is linked)

Why It's Strange Taylor's Putting out Footnotes

Home and Haylor

Exile is Not Fiction

This is Me Trying Main Theory (Lyrical & Historical Haylor Parallels)

August and One Direction’s Summer Love Parallels

Interpreting Taylor's Interview (Ships passing in the night could be referring to Jaylor & Hamille)

This is Me Trying Theory--Alternately Why it Could Be Harry's Perspective

Haylor at the Lake District in 2012 (Windmere)

The Lakes, Hoax, and Haylor

Why The Lakes Has a Good Chance of Being Haylor

Taylor’s Response to TBSL

Exile is About Jealous Harry at the 2015 BBMAs, Response to Woman

Two Ghosts x August Parallel

Betty x FTDT Parallel

So it Goes x The 1 Parallel

Every Song on folklore About Harry

Exile is also a Response to MMITH (Proof Haylor Broke Up in a Hallway?)

Illicit Affairs is About Haylor

Taylor Mimicking Harry’s Falling Music Video for Cardigan

Taylor Indirectly Apologizing for Calvin (The 1)

My Theory on How the Teenage Love Triangle Parallels Haylor (James vs James Dean)

Falling x Cardigan GIFs (omg)

Cardigan lyrical parallel with Olivia (HS) and Clean (TS)

Cardigan Referencing Haylor Park Outing (High Line, NYC)

More Cardigan x 1989 References

Mirrorball is Taylor’s Response to Sign of the Times

1989

You Are in Love is About Haylor (Photographical Evidence)

part one , addition to part one

Taylor Referencing OOTW in her Maid of Honour Speech

Proof Haylor was Together in 2014

Taylor Talking About Harry Being the Person She’d Expect to Interrupt Her Wedding

Taylor Wearing Harry’s Shirt (2014)

Haylor Secretly Together for T’s 24th Birthday and into 2014

Harry’s Post Indicating their Reunion on Same Day ‘This Love’ Was Written

Picture of H+T at VSFS 2014 Afterparty (Taylor performed Style)

At 3:12 of OOTW MV, Taylor Wears Harry’s Initials on the Side of Her Wrist

Haylor After Meeting At Caleb Followill’s Bday Party (2015)

How You Get the Girl is About How Harry Got Taylor Back

Miscellaneous (1D, Lover, Fine Line, etc.):

Pretty In-Depth Analysis on WITW and Haylor Songs from Fine Line (with pics XD)

Why Walking in the Wind is About Taylor (With Photographical Evidence)

Common Sense on if Haylor Was Together

Why Afterglow, Fine Line, FTDT, etc. Are Haylor AF

Why ‘Sign of the Times’ + Its MV May Be Haylor

Why Golden Parallels the IKYWT MV (the music video’s monologue) and why the song is about Taylor

Explanation on Why Riptide is Significant to Haylor + Sweet Disposition

Furious Love at First Glance

Two Ghosts Unreleased MV

Olivia is About Taylor

For Those Who Live Under the Delusion Haylor Was for PR to Feel Better About Themselves

Short Fan Edit of Haylor Moments (Taylor talks about Harry)

Another Fan Edit of Haylor Moments (All You Had to Do Was Stay)

Anne Twist Posts a Cover of Cornelia Street (2020) Fun Fact: she still has a picture of Gemma, her, and Taylor’s sock clad feet on December of 2012 on her Instagram.

Early Days

List of Videos on Their Relationship Timeline (up to 2017)

Harry Looking for Taylor at Jingle Ball

Harry Staring Shamelessly at Taylor’s Ass

Harry Touching Taylor’s Arm in Front of Paparazzi

Harry’s Multiple Posts About Taylor Being His ‘Winding Wheel’ Decoded

Lyrical Parallels in their Music

The Last Time & Where Do Broken Hearts Go

Clean & Olivia

Wonderland & FTDT

Afterglow x Fine Line Parallel

From the Dining Table

@taylorswift

Also: check my haylor tag. It fills up with content I don’t always put on here :)

#will update #haylor #taylor swift #taylurking #1989 #folklore

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ariel-seagull-wings · 3 years ago

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FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: CINDERELLA’S STEPSISTERS

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa

@sunlit-music @mademoiselle-princesse @superkingofpriderock @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @amalthea9 @anne-white-star @astrangechoiceoffavourites @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @littlewomenchannel @fyeahmeninroyalnavy @captain-dad @parxsisburnixg @lioness--hart @tats-kisses-and-horror @gravedangerahead @grafedelweiss

Favorite thing about them: Besides the fact that its nice to have two more ladies who fill a cast of five main female characters (or in the case of the Grimm’s Aschenputtell, four, since the Fairy Godmother is out of that version), as someone who is not the best when it comes to fashion knowledge, their fashionista sensibilities and antics is always fun to read and/or watch.

Least favorite thing about them: The fact that they participate in and benefit of Cinderella’s abuse is reason enough to dislike those two, but there’s also the reason that most of the time, while the two stepsisters are usually differentiated phisically, personality wise book writers and screen writers in adaptations don’t always bother to differentiate them. The two tend to be portrayed as just one entity present to be greedy, mean spirited and abusive to Cinderella, to the point that when the german series Grimm’s Finest Fairy Tales adapted the Grimm’s Aschenputell variant, they reduced the two stepsisters into one, Anabella, because of how much they were interchangeable as characters.

Three things i have in common with them:

-I don’t even like thinking about domestic chores.

-I have siblings, and could relate to the rivalry and fights during my childhood.

-I have experience with being awkward in social gatherings.

Three things i don’t have in common with them:

-I never had servants at home.

-I wasn’t a kid spoiled by my relatives.

-Again, when it comes to choosing clothing, i first go searching wich ones are the most confortable, not so much wich ones are the most beautifull to impress others.

Favorite line:

These lines from the Perrault version, first exchanging dialogue between themselves:

"For my part, I will wear my red velvet suit with French trimming."

"And I shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered cloak, and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world."

And then this lines exchanged betweem them and Cinderella, while making preparations for the first ball:

“Cinderella, would you not like to go to the ball?"

"Alas! You only jeer me; it is not for such as I am to go to such a place."

"You are quite right," they replied. "It would make the people laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball.”

And this other exchange, when they tell about seeing the mysterious beautifull lady of the first ball, without knowing she was Cinderella herself

"If you had been at the ball, you would not have been tired with it. The finest princess was there, the most beautiful that mortal eyes have ever seen. She showed us a thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons."

"She must, then, be very beautiful indeed; how happy you have been! Could not I see her? Ah, dear Charlotte, do lend me your yellow dress which you wear every day."

"Yes, to be sure! Lend my clothes to such a dirty Cinderwench as you are! I should be such a fool."

brOTP: Each other, if they aren’t constantly trying pull at the other’s hair and jumping at the other’s troat. Cinderella, in versions where they genuinelly come to repent their ways and love her as their sister. And in crossover land, Beauty’s two sisters from Beauty and the Beast.

OTP: The nobles who wed them in the Perrault version. In the Disney version, i ship Anastasia, the younger red headed sister, with the Baker in Cinderella II: Dreams Come True.

nOTP: Each other, Cinderella, or the Prince.

Random Headcanon:

The two court nobles who marry them in the Perrault version are two of Beauty’s three brothers, who rised into nobility after their illustrious younger sister married the Prince who was once a Beast.

Unpopular Opinion:

I hope people already stoped calling them “Ugly Stepsisters”. In both the Perrault version, Cendrillon, and the Grimm’s Aschenputtell, they are both described as phisically conventionally beautifull, and what sends most people away from them is the fact that they lack the non phisical beauty of kindness, and without that virtue they are underserving of any rewards from life. Is in adaptations, like the 1950 Disney animated version, the 1965 iteration of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical, or fairy tale hodge podges like the Shrek movies, that equated them being considered phisically ugly with being mean spirited. And usually what those versions call being “ugly” is having big noses, like in the 1950 Disney animated version, being fat, like in both the 1965 and 1997 iterations of the Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical and the Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics anime series, or being transgender coded, like in the Shrek movies, wich is very, very problematic. Hopefully people start noticing this and stop equating being considered conventionally beautifull with being a good in future retellings.

Song i associate with them:

The “Stepsisters Lament” from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

youtube

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Charles Folkard

This illustration by Anastassija Archipowa for the Grimm’s Aschenputtell

This illustration by Rie Cramer

This illustrations by Hans Betcke

This illustration by Jane Ray

This illustrations by Rene Cloke

Anastasia and Drizella, from the 1950 Disney Animated Version

Pat Carroll and Barbara Ruick as Prunella and Esmeralda, in the 1965 iteration of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

Veanne Cox and Natalie Desselle-Reid as Calliope and Minerva, in the 1997 iteration of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

Rosalind Ayres and Sherrie Hewson as Isobella and Palatine in The Slipper and The Rose

Megan Dodds and Melanie Lynskey as Marguerite and Jacqueline in Ever After

And for @anne-white-star Catherine and Jeanne in the anime series Cinderella Monogatari

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asynjja · 3 years ago

Text

i . alias, name. i go by lyn but those who i have known for a very long time are allowed to call me aylin. u do get a financial penalty though if you pronounce it the same way as eileen!!

ii . birthday. august 9th.

iii . zodiac sign. leo sun, gemini moon, leo rising. i don’t actually know what that means though other than that rylan doesn’t vibe w leos and that’s why i’m her archnemesis.

iv . height. 5′3′’ or 5′4′’ i never really know!!

v . hobbies. writing, reading (crime, scifi, non-fiction sajdhbasdhj. i am actually subscribed to some science magazines for the sake of keeping up with recent research), yoga!!! and i love cooking, always wanted to have a fancy food insta but never committed to it.

vi . favourite colour. forest green!

vii . favourite book. the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde and interview with the vampire by anne rice, both of which i desperately need to re-read. when i was a little younger i used to be obsessed with paulo coelho’s veronika decides to die and read it five times or so.

viii . last song. bed on fire by teddy swims and tbh all of his songs just hit the right spot for me, i’m completely obsessed with his voice.

ix . last film / show. i’m currently watching the fifth season of haven, so.

x . recent reads. currently reading a book on germanic mythology (non-fiction), tried reading the princessa: machiavelli for women by harriet rubin because i got it for 50 cents from a thrift shop but it’s absolutely not for me and i honestly can’t recommend it, and next is the history of bees by maja lunde which my mother-in-law got me!!

xi . inspiration. part of it was through watching vikings but i also gotta admit i’m stubborn and i’ve always struggled with my identity as the daughter of a migrant mother and i kind of wanted to change my own perception of germanic history and fight back against the appropriation of it by the (german) far right? my mom sometimes told me about the amazons and i grew up with a lot of typical female anger, i suppose, and i channelled that into the creation of moa zhao who had to endure so much not just because she was a woman but because she continuously struggled with her ethnic and religious identity and was stripped of it repeatedly, ultimately creating herself over and over. and i’ve always liked the concept of immortality as something inherently antagonistic: people want to better themselves and fix relationships and go on adventures because one day they might no longer be able to, and moa lacks that. i suppose i just wanted to explore suffering from a different angle.

xii . story behind url. asynja are the female gods or the primary norse pantheon but because asynja was taken, i simply added the second j!

xiii . fun fact about me. i’m allergic to latex and i found out while working at the lab and wearing latex gloves! i was too focused on work that i didn’t notice the itching until i took the gloves off and saw the rash. didn’t think much of it still because i’d never been allergic to anything before, but then i had intercourse w/ regular latex condoms and... yeah, u can imagine how it went. moral of the story is: don’t ignore the rash on ur hands because the rash on your hoo ha is way worse.

tagged by. @carelessgraces ily. tagging. the first seven people on my dash, so: @msppotts, @bythieves, @klarsynt, @becomelions, @daerknss, @snipesaw, @soulstcne!!

#― ᴀᴋᴀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙ ʜᴇʀʙɪᴠᴏʀᴇ . out of character .#― ғʟᴊᴏ̈ʟᴅ ᴠᴇɪᴛ ᴇᴋ ғʀᴀᴇᴅᴀ ; ғʀᴀᴍ sᴇ ᴇᴋ ʟᴇɴɢʀᴀ . dashboard games .

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years ago

Note

Can you maybe make a fic of just me and Niragi chilling and hangin out together at the beach?,just Niragi being calm for just one day.

(Of course his lynx and Fanta has to be there...and Dori)

And then Niragi would question things such as "Can I see your hair?" And I would say "No,only girls and family relatives can see it" "Why aren't men aloud to see your hair?" "Because,they will judge on just by or appearance and not our personality" "So does that mean,Kuina,Ann and Mira can see your hair?" "Yes,yes they can. We even has a girls sleepover party at Kuina's room that day with Ace and Chloe" And Dori dressing up as a women is like "A-and I'm not invited!?" "Dori,you're a boy..a grown man dressing up as smexy lady-"

A Chat with Ila

Characters: @a-simp-20, Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada

Genre: Fluff. Just @a-simp-20 vibing with Dori and Niragi and talking about hijabs! :D

1.4k words

Hehe, sorry I finally got around to this! I was taking a little fanfic break after posting 6 fics in a row, you understand right? (I say break as if it hasn’t even been a week pfft-)

I’m going to try my best to incorporate your culture, okay? Okay. :D I hope you like it @a-simp-20! Here, have this nice picture as well. (Sorry for tagging you three times in a row-)

It was late into the day, and wandering about the Beach was a group. It consisted of two men, a lady, and two animals, happily chatting amongst each other about normal topics, like how soft pillows were and the legality of eating fried crickets as a snack.

Which, by the way, was completely legal in certain cultures.

Fanta was happily trotting besides Dori, who was more focused on trying to paint his nails with clear polish on the move, humming a song. On the other side of him was Catra, the lynx wearing a rubber duck on her head for the sheer fun of it. Said rubber duck had a tiny felt cap on it, tiny lettering spelling the word ‘Chicken’ in Hiragana.

People naturally got out of the way upon seeing Niragi, but Niragi wasn’t even paying attention to them, knowing full well his sheer presence was enough to cause a reaction. That way he could focus on talking to Ila about totally normal human endeavours.

“ Have you ever sat in a bath in the dark with a little bit of light? It’s actually really soothing as long as you’re not scared of the dark, and it’s really quiet too!” Ila chirps, walking besides the bottle of black tea, Niragi shrugging. He’s never really had the time for himself for something like that. It sounded amazing though, and maybe when he had the time he would do it, even using scented candles and even bath salts. Ila smiles up at him. “ Aww, you really should, you look like you need one!”

“ Wh- Hey! What does that supposed to mean?!” Niragi accuses as he looks down at Ila, who smiles at him.

“ It’s really nice, that’s all! Especially here, where there’s so much violence going on, there needs to be a time to relax and ease your stress!”

Niragi just squints at her, then leaves it be. Ila had good intentions, so he just continues onwards, Dori humming behind Niragi and Ila.

“ If you want to, Niragi, I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to borrow some of my bath salts! They’re some of my favourites, but don’t expect them to smell like anything. I prefer the unscented ones.” Dori offers Niragi, who just waves off his doppelgänger as they approach the TV room. The group enters, Fanta and Catra hopping onto the couch and claiming it as their own until Niragi shooed them off to sit on the ground instead. Fanta was a lot more nicer about that, Catra baring her teeth a little at Niragi, the overcooked barbecue giving her the disappointed dad look complete with his hand on his hip until Catra finally complied, Ila taking a seat right where the cat was previously, Dori taking the other side of the couch. That left Niragi to the middle, but he doesn’t take a seat just yet, heading over to the DVD case to pick out a movie for them to pass the time with. He pulls out a random case, squinting at the cover.

“ Hey, Sakurada. Why the hell are you on this?” Niragi holds the case up and looks to Sakurada. Sakurada comes over and peers at the case, gasping a little in recognition.

“ Oh! That’s Orange! It’s actually really good!” Dori smiles happily at seeing his face on the cover, even if it was really small. Niragi hums, looking at the cover. He points to the main characters on the cover, squinting at it.

“ The fuck, why are these two on here-“

“ Hm? Oh, that’s just Yamazaki and Tsuchiya! They’re actors as well! I kind of hope they’re alright, I haven’t seen them around lately-“

“ How many of you clone fuckers are out there-“

“ Well technically-“

Niragi holds a hand up, hushing Sakurada. “ Never mind, I don’t care anymore. Let’s just watch this.” Sakurada mutely nods and goes back to sitting on the couch, Fanta hopping back up and splaying his body across Sakurada’s lap, Sakurada chuckling in amusement and giving his dog a few belly tickles. Ila was visibly happy as well, Niragi sliding in the disc and going to sit down as the movie started to run.

Two hours later, and Ila was already talking about the movie and how nice it was, Sakurada nodding along with her as she went on. Niragi remained quiet, admittedly not having paid much attention to the movie or its plot, using it more like background noise and eye candy as he zoned out. He wasn’t really much of a romance drama movie kind of guy anyways, got too mushy for his taste.

Still, no use in spoiling Ila and Sakurada’s joy in the movie. Even Fanta seemed to be joining in on the fun, tail wagging excitedly as he sat there on Sakurada’s lap. Catra had sat at the foot of the couch the entire time, content where she was and occasionally grooming her huge paws and then settling said paws on Niragi’s foot and kneading it. It was a weird experience, but ultimately harmless.

The conversation soon died down, shifting to fashion sense, and Niragi’s attention moves to Ila, more importantly on the hijab on her head. It was actually a pretty salmon colour, and his staring contest with the side of her head went on too long, as his eyes met with a very amused face, Ila blinking and waving a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of it.

“ Is something wrong? Is there like…. lint on my head?”

“ Ah, no- Just wondering why you wear that. I don’t think anyone has seen your hair.” “ Well, men haven’t! That’s kind of the point! I’m a Muslim, and that means women wear these as a sign of modesty.” Niragi tilts his head. Why be modest here? It’s the Borderlands, technically anyone can do whatever they want. Then again, he guesses it applies to wearing it the same way as not wearing it. “ So….. why not?”

“ Well, it’s simple! We want people to not look for appearances and instead look for what’s right here!” She pats her chest, right where the heart was. “ It’s to keep men unrelated to us from seeing something they aren’t allowed to! If you were, for example, to marry a Muslim woman, then she’s allowed to show her hair to you, but only then! Otherwise that’s off limits to you!” Ila explains happily, Niragi slowly nodding and taking in the info.

“ So…. what about the ones that aren’t men?”

“ Then they’re allowed to see my hair! In fact, we, as in Ann, Kuina, Chloe, and Mira have sleepovers over in Kuina’s room! It’s actually really fun! Oh, but immediate male family members are allowed, but that’s it!”

There was a mildly offended gasp from Sakurada, who holds his hand over his heart. “ What? And I’m not invited to them? Even though I look stylish?”

Ila giggles, shaking her head. “ Even if you wear the prettiest dress and the nicest wig, you’re still identified as a male, and can’t be allowed to see my hair, Sakurada! It’s nothing against you, you’re doing great, it’s just how my religion functions between the relationship between men and women! It also means you and Niragi aren’t to touch me, even in a friendly context!” “ Wh- So you’ve never had a hug?” Niragi furrows his eyebrows a little, confused.

“ I have, just not with men.” Ila explains politely, still smiling. “ Being polite and modest is just how we are, that’s all! Of course, some cases of being touched by men are absolutely necessary, like with doctors, but when we can, we highly prefer not to be touched by non-mahram.” Niragi and Sakurada both nod at her words, Fanta barking. Sakurada point to Fanta. “ Does Fanta count?”

“ Well, not really? There’s technically different rules in set for dogs, but that’s for another time.” Ila responds, and gets up with a hum. “ Hey, wanna go see how many plastic ducks we can fit in Chishiya’s room?” Niragi grins, getting up so fast off the couch it almost was like he was ejected from it by a spring and running out the door, Fanta barking and running after him, Sakurada chuckling and getting up at a reasonable pace.

“ Come on, what are you waiting for! Let’s go fuck with the whipped cream pie!” Niragi yells, Ila laughing and following behind him along with the rest of the squad. It was a pleasant evening for some chaos after a nice long chat.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #sakurada dori #niragi deserves a cat #I went ahead and did a bit of research to make sure that it was accurate enough-#this was actually really nice to write not gonna lie-#i don't know your stance on eating fried crickets so I kept it mostly vague-#it really just became a part of talking about muslim culture in a normal conversation #a real teaching moment for them :D #yes I included a sakurada acting career reference just because-#p.s. they got 102 ducks in his room before chishiya noticed-#ask

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fanfic-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Wrapped In Red

Merry Christmas, @masterofevilmonkeyness! I’ve really enjoyed writing your secret santa for @destielsecretsanta2020 this year, and it has actually ended up being the longest fic I have ever written!

First of all, here’s the playlist. My friend found some perfect songs for the different scenes, and we had a lot of fun trying to find songs with specific vibes!

Without further ado, here’s the fic. And, if you’d prefer, the link to it on AO3.

{o0o}

“So you’ll do it?” his brother’s voice crackles though Dean’s cracked phone, and he sighs. So yeah, maybe he hasn’t been on a case in a while and has been going slowly insane just hanging around the bunker, but he also doesn’t want to leave Cas alone. Since his grace had faded completely a few days ago, the former angel had hardly left his room, and Dean wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He rubs his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on simply from this conversation, and replies, “I’ll ask Cas.”

“Okay, text me if you’re going,” Sam responds, the phone making the muffled noises that Dean has learnt means that he is holding his phone on his shoulder, freeing his hands to talk to Eileen.

“Stop worrying, anyway,” Dean tells him, cracking his back as he stands up. “You’re on holiday. Leave the cases for a while, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slips his phone into his back pocket and wanders down the hallway, so engrossed in his plan to invest in some thick socks because the bunker floor is freezing that he nearly walks straight into Cas. His dark hair sticks up in every direction and he is wearing an old Zeppelin shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, which look like they are being held up by some kind of miracle. Paired with the bags under his eyes which are so dark that Dean mistakes them for bruises, he could be mistaken for a ghost.

“Hey, uh,” Dean stutters, not sure what to say. “Sam has a case that I was thinking of going on, but we don’t have to, we can just pass it on to Garth or-”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas interrupts, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t look...great. No offense.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas’ steely blue eyes had always been able to pull off a frighteningly good stare, and Dean just decides to go along with it. It would do them both good to get out of the bunker, in any case.

“Okay,” he agrees, “shall we go in about an hour? That’ll give me enough time to pack for both of us and you enough time to have a shower.”

Cas nods, and they part ways, Dean watching the angel hoist his borrowed pants up and disappear around the corner before shaking his head and fishing his phone out to text Sam.

We’ll take it. Send me the details, setting off in an hour.

{o0o}

Dean had tried his very best to hold a conversation when they set off on the fourteen hour drive, but he had long given up and they were only at the two hour mark. Every question he asked so far had either gone unanswered or had been graced with a monosyllabic response. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall. Well, no one could fault him for trying.

Flicking his wrist out lazily, he turns on the radio without looking with the kind of graceful expertise that only comes from years of driving his baby at night. It takes a full ten seconds for him to realise that the sound of jingle bells is coming from the speakers before he groans. “Nope.”

A surprisingly warm hand shoots out to stop him before he can turn it off, and Dean looks up in surprise at Cas’ imploring face. “Please can we listen to it?”

Considering what the dude had lost recently - and the fact that apparently his puppy eyes are almost as effective as Sam’s - Dean was hardly going to deny him this one thing. He did, however, have one condition. “Okay, I’ll leave it on, but only if you fish out my Christmas mixtape from the box.”

Dean never took his eyes off the road, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas stared at him for a moment before excitedly rummaging through the old box of tapes. Eventually, he pulls it out, admiring the battered stickers and fading drawings that he and Sam had added when they made it all those years ago. Cas gently slides it in and the first few notes of Mariah Carey grace the air.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, grinning wildly. “You, Castiel, are about to be educated in some proper Christmas music.”

By the time the mixtape finishes, they are both in a much better mood, so Dean decides it is probably a good idea to stop for a little bit to get some snacks and some gas. Frowning, Cas informs him that he needs the toilet, before disappearing towards the nasty looking bathroom. Dean can’t help but feel bad for him; as much as he loves being human, he knows it must be annoying to suddenly have the weird experience of a human body. They always seemed to hurt or need something, and he could tell that Cas found the whole thing incredibly repetitive and exasperating.

The gas station is like every other gas station Dean has ever seen; empty, with a layer of grime that seemed to cover everything and the bright lights that ensured that no matter what time of day it was, it always seemed to look the exact same. This one, however, is also covered in Christmas decorations. Glittery tinsel and rainbow paper chains swing from the ceiling, the air conditioning coaxing them into a gentle dance. Fake snow covers every surface, and flashing fairy lights force him to blink and look away.

Dean moves on autopilot, picking up snacks that Cas hasn’t tried yet and a couple of bottles of water, before reaching the counter. He has to yell to the cashier - who is decked out in a festive jumper and Santa hat - in order to be heard over the deafening Christmas music.

“Here,” she practically sings, disappearing into the back room for a second before reappearing with a ridiculous pair of reindeer antlers. “These are for you, sweetie! No charge. Cheer up, it’s Christmas!”

Dean tries to refuse the antlers, but the lady - Lucy, her name tag reads - is not taking no for an answer, so eventually he gives in, telling himself that it is just so he can leave this Christmas Hell and get back to driving. Cas is waiting for him outside, leaning on the car and watching as the first few flakes of snow start to fall.

Dean hesitates for a moment before offering the antlers to him. Cas just stares at them, his head tilted to one side. Sighing, Dean just steps closer and puts them on Cas’ head, laughing when the bells jingle as he tries to look up at them without taking them off. He slips his phone out and sneaks a picture of the bewildered former angel, hastily putting it away and bundling Cas in the car so that they can set off before the snow gets too bad.

“Why did you give me a pair of fake antlers, Dean?” Cas asks as they set off, turning them over and inspecting them in his hands. Much to Dean’s dismay, they wouldn’t fit in the car.

“Thought you liked Christmas stuff?” he replies, grinning.

“What do fabric antlers have to do with Christmas?”

And so, Dean finds himself spending the last leg of the journey attempting to explain Christmas traditions to Cas, who can’t help interrupting and pointing out the real facts, rather than Dean’s Christmas cracker knowledge. They go over Santa and his reindeers (“reindeers can’t fly, Dean”), the birth of Jesus (“I remember Balthazar telling me about that”), and mince pies (“why are they sweet? Mince isn’t supposed to be sweet.”). By the time they arrive Dean is so eager to escape the onslaught of questions that he doesn’t know the answer to, he hits someone with the car door as he gets out.

The actual reason that they have driven into the middle of absolutely nowhere dangerously close to Christmas is because a couple had gone missing last week and hadn’t been seen since. Usually, they would assume that this case wasn’t their kind of thing, but Sam had been asked to check it out by another hunter who knew them (and who apparently had some beef with a ton of shapeshifters), and so here they are..

Dean suggests that FBI agents might be a bit too suspicious for a small town in the middle of nowhere, so instead he and Cas decide to pretend that they are just family visiting them for the weekend. They knock on next door under the pretense of asking for the spare key, and are greeted by possibly the grumpiest people Dean has ever met.

“Fine,” the lady snaps, the half of her face visible from behind the door frowning at them in disgust before turning back into the house. “Harold, get the spare key for next door!”

“Do you happen to know where they have gone?” Dean asks politely, the pleasant smile on his face starting to ache.

“No.”

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, before he tries. “When was the last time you saw them?”

The woman huffs impatiently. “Probably when they went to that stupid office Christmas party. We could hear the music from here. It was so inconsiderate.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, sharing a look with Cas. “Where was this party?”

The door opens fully, a man appearing behind the lady - Harold, Dean assumes - who hands the key over to them. “It was those blasted Mitchells.” He turns to his wife, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Did you hear that they are throwing another goddamn party tomorrow, Ann?”

“Thanks for all your help,” Dean interrupts before they can get too carried away.

“Merry Christmas!” Cas adds, already backing away.

They speedwalk back across the victims’ house, making sure that the neighbours’ door is shut before they completely break down laughing. Dean can barely open the door, but when he finally manages to correctly align the key in the lock, they both tumble into the front room, shaking uncontrollably.

Dean collapses next to the couch, sliding to the floor. He takes a couple of deep breaths before managing to speak. “Sounds like we’re going to your first Christmas party, Cas.”

{o0o}

After making their way through most of the people in the town, two things have been made very clear. First of all, the last anyone had seen of the victims - Adam and Amelia Knapp - was at their office Christmas party. Which nearly everyone in the town had been at, and yet no one knew anything remotely helpful. Secondly, there was another Christmas party being held tomorrow night by the somewhat popular Mitchell family, and the chances of their mystery monster striking were high, in Dean’s opinion.

The most logical course of action would be for Dean and Cas to pretend to be guests at the party, so they could stop their creature before anyone else went missing and then they could disappear back home in time for Christmas. However, Dean had found that nothing in his life could ever be that simple, so instead he found himself standing in front of a wide array of hats, trying to wrestle a fez away from a former angel of the Lord.

Because of course it had to be a costume party, and just as the icing on the cake, it had to be a couples only costume party.

“Dude,” Dean says, finally managing to wrench the fez from Cas’ iron grip, “if we’re wearing hats, at least try a good hat.”

Dean plops an example on Cas’ head, laughing as it slips over his eyes. “These aren’t Christmassy, Dean.”

“Sure they are,” Dean says, grabbing a hat more in Cas’ size and a matching one for him. He strolls over to the till, grabbing a couple more things on the way. “You’ll see.”

Since they have a few hours to kill before the actual party, Dean decides that they can waste some of the day doing some Christmas shopping, especially after he finds out that Cas hasn’t got any presents yet. He drives them to a nearby mall, throws Cas a handful of notes and his antlers, and gives him strict instructions to buy some presents and then meet Dean in the food court in an hour.

“Why can’t we do it together?” Cas asks, and Dean could swear he was pouting.

“Because the presents are supposed to be a surprise,” he explains, shooing Cas away with his hands. “Look, I’ll see you in an hour, and if you need anything you can just call me, ‘kay?”

Cas nods and meanders off, disappearing into the crowd without further complaint.

It is nearly ten minutes later, while he is rummaging through some shirts in an attempt to find one in Sam’s size, when Dean realises that this is the first time that Cas has been alone since he lost his grace. A sudden jolt of panic rushes through him, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

Castiel was older than humanity. He had led armies of angels. He had fought against demons and archangels and every monster under the sun. He could handle buying a few Christmas presents.

But, at the same time, Dean can’t help but worry. The dude has questionable social skills at best, and he is still trying to get to grips with his brand new human body. He often has to be reminded to eat or drink water or sleep, and there were several embarrassing occasions in the beginning where he had forgotten entirely.

Dean’s hand itches, his fingers curling towards his back pocket, but he resists the urge to call and check up on Cas. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He tells himself that he should just get his presents for people and then he can meet back up with Cas as soon as possible.

The mall is packed, the usual last rush as people get the last few things they need for Christmas. Conversations and the sound of toddlers crying fight to be heard over the echoing music, festive music adding to the deafening noise. While dodging people, making his way to their meeting place, Dean tries to remember the last time he was in a mall. Certainly not recently - he thinks it may be some time before he met Cas - and he definitely doesn’t remember them making him feel this claustrophobic. The sea of people pushing against him makes him want to throw up, and he finds himself having to duck into the nearest shop to avoid the crowd, shutting his eyes and leaning heavily against a railing.

“Dean?” a deep, familiar voice asks him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Dean cracks one eye open, laughing when he realises what shop he found Cas in. He knew he should never have introduced him to Hot Topic. “I’m fine, Cas. Just hungry.” he deflects, standing up straight and patting his friend on the shoulder.

Cas gives him a look that says ‘I know you’re lying but I’m going to let you get away with it just this once’ and instead says, “Let me pay for this, and then we can go and get some lunch.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Dean is watching Cas eat a taco for the first time and has completely forgotten that he ever felt bad, because he is laughing too hard to care. Cas looks highly bemused at the stain on his precious trench coat, but Dean thinks that, secretly, he doesn’t mind.

{o0o}

There is no question that they are in the right place when they pull up outside the address they were given a few hours later, if the ridiculous amount of fairy lights and assorted decorations are anything to go by. They can’t help but stare at the blinding display for a moment, before Dean turns to Cas to make sure he remembers the plan. “Okay, so we go in, find our mystery monster-”

“Sam thinks it is a shapeshifter.” Cas interrupts.

“Okay, so we grab this shifter, gank it, grab some food on the way out and then drive home in time for Christmas. You remember the cover story?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dean. We’re the Bassons, and we’re thinking about moving here. Do I need to repeat the rest?”

“Alright then, you ready?” Dean intertwines his fingers with Cas’ - in order to keep their cover, obviously - takes a deep breath, and then opens the door.

A wave of heat rolls out from the crowded house, contrasting with the painfully cold air outside. As they step inside, Dean picks up a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, a mixture of turkey and cranberry sauce and mulled wine and gravy. The third thing he notices is the music blaring in from the other room, loud enough that he can feel the vibrations thrum through his body. He laughs when he realises what song it is. Space Cowboy; he couldn’t have picked a more fitting song.

After they had come home from their spontaneous shopping spree, Dean had spent an hour making the perfect couple’s costume. Considering the only supplies he had were ones he had picked up from the dollar store, he was actually pretty impressed with his handiwork. Both him and Cas were wearing their normal fed suits, however, it was the hats that really sold it. Dean had affixed - using an alarming amount of superglue - a strand of purple and blue glittery tinsel to his cowboy hat, and a set of fully functional Christmas lights to Cas’.

Cas had protested at first - “How are cowboys Christmas related, Dean?” - until he had been convinced by the hidden practicality of it: any weapons they brought with them could be written off as part of the costume. Also, cowboys are awesome. Dean has yet to find someone who can prove him wrong on that point.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand to get his attention, nodding towards two people who appear to be the hosts of the party. The music shifts into some Christmas classic, and they make their way over so they can start ruling people off the list of suspects.

An hour later, Dean officially decides that he is never attending a Christmas party again. Luckily, they’ve only had to deal with one homophobe, who Dean ‘accidentally’ dropped a whole plate of food on, but that doesn’t mean that none of the other guests are driving him up the wall. It seems that everyone is slightly drunk apart from them, and the only reason Dean hasn’t joined in is because of the dirty looks Cas sends him every time he so much as glances towards the punch bowl.

It’s the karaoke that does him in. Cas is somewhere (Dean couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed the bathroom, or if that was his attempt at saying he was going to scout the house) and there is a woman wearing a skimpy reindeer outfit and wailing along to Last Christmas. God only knows what caused her to get on top of the table and join in while crying, but Dean suspects the answer includes lots of alcohol and the fact that the man who she had arrived with had disappeared upstairs with an elf some time earlier. Her rendition certainly isn’t going to win any awards.

With Cas not there to see, Dean manages to finish two plastic cups worth of surprisingly nice punch before he can be stopped. Considering the dude has flashing lights on his head, Cas can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to be.

“Dean, I don’t think-”

“Oh, what wonderful costumes!” a woman interrupts, and Dean forces a smile back on his aching face before he turns around to face her, just in time to see wink at him. She is wearing a green dress and is covered in baubles and tinsel, and the man standing next to her is literally wearing a massive cardboard box, wrapped to look like a present. It takes all of Dean’s self control not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist in order to confirm that they are, in fact, a couple. The few times he had touched Castiel, he had been cold; it had felt like touching a corpse. As a human, Cas was like a hot water bottle, and even though the house was boiling, Dean couldn’t help but latch onto him whenever the opportunity arose.

“I’m Natasha,” the woman continued, staring at Dean in what he had to assume was her version of ‘seductive’ and completely ignoring Cas. “Oh, and this is Cole,” she adds as an afterthought.

Cole also winks at Dean. He has never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he went to Hell. Although, he has also never had both members of a couple separately flirt with him while fake dating someone else.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas,” he replies, pulling the former angel even closer into him. “My husband.”

“Oh,” Cole says, and Dean doesn’t think he is imagining the disappointed tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha adds, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I didn’t realise you were a couple!”

Dean didn’t think he could make it more obvious, but… if she didn’t believe them, then they might be at risk of blowing their cover. There were already at least seven people who had been avoiding them after the usual weird questions and some not quite realistic ploys to get them to touch a silver coin that they had brought with them.

“Why’s that?” he asks, and regrets the question almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“For starters,” Natasha proclaimed, way too eager for this to end well. “You’ve been standing under mistletoe this whole time and haven’t kissed!”

Dean’s whole body freezes as they both look up, and sure enough, the bastard plastic plant is hanging directly over their heads.

“I didn’t realise,” Cas says, somewhat dazedly.

Dean takes a deep breath - there’s nothing they can do now, not with these nosy, weirdass people watching and waiting and expecting a kiss - and pulls Cas closer, turning to face him so their bodies are pressed together. In the dim lights, the lights on Cas’ hat make his startling blue eyes twinkle like starlight, and Dean wonders how he never saw how gorgeous he was before now. Maybe he had, and it had just been buried along with everything else.

“Dean,” Cas’ low voice rumbles, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kissing a man is not so different to kissing a woman, and Dean can’t help but notice how much he likes the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips on his own. Something lights up inside him like a firework, and he realises exactly how much he wanted - no, needed this. He feels better than he has in a long time, as if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly slotted into place.

Cas pulls away first, and Dean’s mind suddenly catches up with his body. Holy shit, he just kissed Cas. He barely registers Natasha and Cole walking away, still transfixed by the fact he finds a former angel of the Lord - who is a man - devastatingly handsome.

“Dean. Dean, are you okay?” It is only the feeling of Cas’ body heat leaving him that gets him to look down, absentmindedly fixing the shorter man’s hat.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, choking on the words. “Yeah, I just gotta - I’m just gonna…”

And, like a complete and utter cowardly dick, he walks away.

{o0o}

It has been twenty minutes, so Dean can be fairly certain that Cas isn’t gonna come looking for him. Which is fine. It’s not like he was expecting him to. They only kissed to keep up the pretense, and Dean’s weird behaviour has probably ruined that anyway. It meant nothing.

The problem is that Dean can’t stop thinking about how amazing it had felt to kiss Cas. He had tasted like mulled wine and honey and the promise of a thousand lazy mornings. It had felt like flying and drowning all at once. Dean had never understood when people had described kisses as things that had nothing to do with the act, like earthquakes or lightning or fireworks, but the only way he could explain the ecstasy he had felt when their lips had touch was an act of God.

And that thought only spiraled into another: Dean had kissed an angel of the Lord. An angel. Even though Cas was human now, he still remembered the birth of existence and every word that came out of his mouth was fueled by eons of knowledge and memories and experience. He held himself with a grace that only a true warrior can execute, and to him, Dean must seem so small. How insignificant was he compared to that brilliant man?

Finally, there it is. The real issue. Castiel is a man.

It had taken some time, but Dean had taught himself, eventually, that John Winchester was a terrible parent. In fact, it was generous to call him a parent at all. It was Dean who had raised Sam, raised himself. And, even now, he couldn’t help but fall back into his old mindset, into an old version of Dean who would have done anything for his father’s approval. But, if he is being honest with himself - and, let’s be frank, it’s about time - Castiel was not the first man he had liked. He probably wasn’t even the third.

In that moment, Dean decides that he doesn’t want to be a coward any longer. If he never expected his life to be a long one, then it is all the more reason to go for what he wants now, rather than later.

Yeah, maybe he’ll lose Cas, but… the possibility of what could await him if Cas does reciprocate is far more frightening than the former angel laughing in his face.

{o0o}

Castiel considers himself very knowledgeable in Dean Winchester’s emotions. He knows exactly how long to avoid Dean after eating a slice of his pie, he knows that he can hold full conversations with just a look, and, as an example, he knows that after their kiss, Dean Winchester was panicking. Badly.

That was fine. Castiel was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had been secretly in love with a man who had repeatedly called him a brother for over ten years. Nothing like that.

Sighing, Cas gently puts his paper plate on the corner of the kitchen table, the food he had been so excited to try half an hour ago now making his stomach roll. He figured that Dean had just needed some air; he would cool down, shove all of his emotions down in true Winchester fashion, and then return and pretend that nothing ever happened. The problem wasn’t just with the fact that Cas would very much be remembering that kiss until the day he died, but that Dean had been a really long time.

Time moves differently now that he was human. As an angel, everything seemed to move so much faster. There was always something to do, the faint crackling of angel radio like a comforting background noise or a million particles to study. A blink of his eye and a century could have passed, and yet here he is, thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.

It’s by the time Cas has checked every room downstairs that he really starts to worry.

Dean is not in the kitchen stuffing his face, and he is not in the dining room drinking punch, and he is not dancing to the rather annoying upbeat song that is playing in the living room. He is not in the hallway, or on the stairs, or in the bathroom. When Cas starts asking, people give conflicting answers. A bauble saw him go upstairs, a Christmas tree could swear he was in the kitchen, an elf insists that he went outside.

Since it is the only place he hasn’t checked, Cas heads outside. There, on the floor, is Dean’s stupid hat, the tinsel loose on one side, dangling pathetically into a puddle of melted snow.

Cas immediately calls Sam, who picks up surprisingly quickly. “Cas? What’s up?”

“ImighthavekissedDeanandnowIdon’tknowwhereheis-”

“Cas, slow down,” Sam urges, forcing Cas to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re, uh, at a couples’ only party, and we had to kiss and then Dean freaked out but he’s been gone for ages and I think he is in trouble,” Cas says, only marginally slower than before.

“Shit. Okay, send me the address. We’re on our way.”

Sam, Cas thinks as he tries a door handle that he missed before, is excellent at coming up with plans. Maybe it’s the time spent in college, maybe it’s his years of hunting experience, but even over the phone he had pointed out things that Cas had failed to spot. Like, for example, the door to the basement.

Cas turns the phone flashlight on like Dean taught him, the beam still not strong enough to light up the impenetrable darkness. The music fades to a distant hum in the background, becoming distorted and frantic as Cas feels. His eyes have barely adjusted enough to see the familiar but unconscious form on the ground - “Dean?” - before something solid connects with the back of his head, and Cas tumbles forwards, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs.

{o0o}

“Cas?”

Cas groans. When he had finally fallen completely, he had been surprised by how much being human hurts. Something always aches, and everything is so easy to damage. Even the smallest of injuries - a stubbed toe or a papercut - hurts way more than it should.

Apparently, a combination of blunt force trauma to the back of the head and the general bruises one acquires from falling down a flight of stairs hurt a lot more than a stubbed toe.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, and Cas tries to turn his head so that he can see Dean, instead finding out that that particular head movement causes his vision to blur and swim. When he attempts to bring his hands up to survey the damage, he can’t understand why they don't move for a moment, before his brain finally manages to catch up and he remembers the night’s events.

So, maybe he wasn’t expecting his first kiss with Dean to be followed by being kidnapped and tied up in a basement, but this is a Winchester they are talking about here.

“Come on, talk to me here.” Dean says, sounding worried.

Cas swallows, aiming to say something to ease Dean’s concern and instead causing a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” he eventually manages to gasp.

Dean snorts. “Sure sound like it.”

They are silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room an echoing drip and Cas’ raspy breaths. Cas isn’t sure how long they have been down there, but since Dean isn’t wriggling about in an attempt to escape, it has probably been long enough that he has already checked whether or not he can untie himself. From what Cas’ fumbling fingers can tell, though, the knots keeping them bound to this stupid pole are very good.

He feels utterly pathetic. He used to be a soldier - he had led armies, fought battles that humans couldn’t even comprehend - and here he was now, entirely useless, taken out by a baseball bat and kept prisoner by a length of rope. If he was still an angel this would have never happened. He could have saved Dean, he would have killed whoever did this, and they would have been back in time to enjoy the end of the party.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, finally breaking the silence.

Dean sighs, and Cas can feel him against his back as his whole body sags down. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do but wait.”

Cas didn’t think he had ever heard Dean give up so easily, and it scared him. “What?”

“I don’t exactly see a way out of this, Cas. I’ve been trying to get these ropes off for half an hour and I think they’re probably just tighter than they were when I started.”

Cas gave an experimental yank, and Dean hissed in pain. Suddenly, the wetness on Cas’ hands made sense. “You’re bleeding, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t reply.

Cas had always thought that his death would be noble. Previously, it had always at least been in battle or a sacrifice, but this was just… pitiful. He was going to die at the hands of some random shapeshifter in someone’s disgusting basement, while wearing a cowboy costume.

“I - uh, I just wanted to say,” Dean starts, sounding unsure, “that I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he replies, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the conversation. If he was going to die, he would rather not be rejected first.

“It was a dick move,” Dean continues, as if he hadn’t heard Cas. “I was just - I mean - I want to say…”

“What, Dean?”

Dean’s voice is barely a whisper. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Cas’ eyes snap back open, and he hits his head on the pole in his confusion. “You would?”

“You don’t… I thought… I mean, I’m just kid-”

“Shut up,” Cas interrupts, not wanting Dean to panic all over again. “I would like that.”

“Oh. Really? Okay,” Dean replies, and Cas shuffles around until he manages to hold his hand. It’s sticky and wet with blood where Dean’s wrists have been hurt by the ropes, and every aching muscle in Cas’ body screams at the awkward position, but he thinks it might still be the happiest he has ever been.

{o0o}

Dean isn’t sure how long it is until he hears the footsteps on the stairs, but it’s long enough for him to feel much too tired for a fight. Can’t the universe just let him be happy for once? Is it too much to ask to not have to fight tooth and claw for one scrap of peace?

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice says, and Dean feels Cas stiffen. It sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite place his finger on where he would have heard it before.

That is, until a second voice speaks. “What have we got here, Harold?”

The next-door neighbours. The old couple who had been complaining about the parties. Of course the only two people in this godforsaken town who they hadn’t checked were the bad guys. He should have seen it. They should have asked them more questions when they weren’t tied to this stupid pole in this stupid fucking basement.

“A pair of cowboys, Ann,” Harold tuts, and Dean cannot believe he is about to be killed by a weird old couple, of all things. He had prevented the apocalypse at least twice, had defeated God, and yet he was going to be killed by the monster of the week. Who looked like they were about three hundred years old, owned fifty cats and knitted in their spare time.

Ann walks around them, her heels clacking on the stone floor, until she comes to a stop in front of Dean. “What a shame,” she says, looking down at him like he was a stain on her shoe. “I was hoping we’d get a crier. Men rarely cry. Apart from that last fellow, of course.”

Dean’s stomach rolls, and he suddenly regrets eating so many pigs in blankets at the party.

“What are you?” Cas practically growls, his hand squeezing Dean’s to comfort him.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Harold asks, and he sounds genuinely confused.

Oh shit, Dean thinks, letting out an amused huff of breath. Great. He isn’t even going to be killed by the monster of the week. He’s gonna be killed by an actual old person.

“Is something funny, sweetie?” Ann demands, frowning.

Dean smiles up at her, deciding that he may as well die how he lived: a snarky bastard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that I got kidnapped by someone’s grandma.”

Ann steps closer to him, crouching down so she is his height. A sliver of silver reflects in the dim light like a shooting star, slicing downwards and cutting a thin line across Dean’s neck. “Don’t give me cheek, boy.”

“Let’s kill the other one first, sweetheart. Then that rude fella has to watch his boyfriend die.” Harold suggests, spitting out the word ‘boyfriend’ like it physically hurts him.

Dean clutches Cas’ hand tighter, trying not to let the panic that is welling up inside him, cold and merciless, show on his face. He tugs desperately at the ropes around his wrists one more time, hoping for a miracle that he knows isn’t coming.

“Say goodbye, now.” Ann says, and Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that he can’t deal with losing Cas again, even if he’ll be gone soon after. He spares a brief thought wondering where Cas will go when he dies; is he human enough to avoid the Empty? And even so, would he go to Heaven or Hell?

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, because even though he is scared, he knows that Cas deserves to know.

If Cas says anything back, Dean doesn’t hear it over the gunshot.

{o0o}

Dying was not a new experience for Castiel, nor was dying as a human. What was a new experience was the pain he felt in his chest that no bullet or knife could replicate. It was the knowledge that he had the opportunity to be happy and it had been ripped from him. It was knowing that someone loved him and cared for him and was being taken away from him.

When Harold dropped dead instead of Cas, his heart fluttered. Maybe he did have a chance.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam’s voice calls out, and Cas finally allows himself to relax slightly.

“Sam?” Dean asks, surprise and confusion and relief all mixed together.

Eileen appears from nowhere and stoops down, grinning at Cas and slicing through the ropes. She winks at him but doesn’t say anything, simply helping him to his feet when it becomes obvious he can’t do it by himself. Sam has backed Ann into the corner of the room, his gun pointed at her with an unwavering hand, but Dean whispers something in his ear and he lowers it slightly. He signs something over his shoulder, not even glancing away from the threat, and Eileen rushes off upstairs, essentially shoving the injured Castiel into Dean’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Dean asks gently, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist to hold him up. His wrists are still bleeding and they are both cold from sitting in a freezing basement for ages, but the simple action fills Cas with a warmness.

“I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, you assbutt,” he mumbles.

Dean smiles down at him, somehow looking charming even covered in dirt and blood, only looking up when Sam clears his throat.

“Look, we should get out of here,” Sam suggests, standing up. He’s tied Ann to the same post that they thought would be their deathbed only a few minutes ago, and he is shooing them towards the stairs back up to the party. “Eileen’s getting someone to call the cops and we don’t wanna be here when they arrive.”

Cas ducks down, for a moment, holding Dean’s hand so he doesn’t completely keel over, and grabs the two hats off the ground. Reaching up, he puts his on before gently placing Dean’s on his head. The tinsel is falling off on one side, the lights have run out of battery, and they are both caked in dirt, but it still makes Dean smile.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says, leaning down and softly kissing Cas.

{o0o}

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam and Eileen said nothing about his new relationship with Cas. In fact, when he tried to bring it up - he knew Sam had seen them kissing for Christ’s sake - Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Dean. “Jody owes me fifty dollars,” was all he said, and their discussion was over.

Cas didn’t seem too perturbed by the whole situation, and Dean found himself wondering whether it was just him who found their new relationship strange. Not that anything much had changed, for that matter. They both behaved the exact same way, with added kissing. So what if Sam thought Dean was weird for still calling Cas ‘buddy’? He wasn’t the one dating a former angel.

What Dean had decided, after their fun little kidnapping escapade, was that Cas deserved an awesome Christmas. It was his first one as a human, after all, and what kind of boyfriend would Dean be if he didn’t show Cas all the wonders of the holiday season?

And that is how they found themselves turning the drive home into a Christmas road trip.

Cas wore his reindeer antlers wherever possible, and Dean took a million photos of him. On the first day, they visited a Christmas market. Dean thought it was much too busy and annoying, but it was all worth it for the smile Cas had after drinking his first hot chocolate. On the second day, they went to a drive-in movie. Cas gave both the funniest and most irritating running commentary that Dean had ever heard, having to remind him every five minutes that “it’s a romcom, Cas. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

On Christmas Eve, they spent most of the day driving to make sure they got home in time for the dinner that Sam and Eileen had promised. They sang carols at full volume and blasted Christmas songs and Dean taught Cas how to play the air guitar. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a sense of freedom and happiness. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

Christmas day rolled around, and it was the nicest Christmas that Dean could remember having. Sam and Eileen had decorated the entire bunker with tinsel and streamers, and had even managed to bring in a huge tree from outside. So maybe not all the decorations on it were technically Christmas related, but the silver bullets were shiny and although no one was quite sure what the pentagram they were using a star on the top did, it looked pretty cool.

By the evening, they had eaten enough food to feed twenty people for a week and had exchanged presents. Sam was sitting at the table with his new fancy pens, Eileen had disappeared to take a shower with her new soaps, and Cas and Dean were firmly planted on the couch. Cas’ new fuzzy socks were warm and ticklish against Dean’s feet, and the angel was a surprisingly good cuddler.

All of a sudden, Dean sat up, dragging Cas with him. “Come on, dude. We should dance.”

Cas snorted but agreed, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly. They swayed slowly to the music, his head on Cas’ shoulder, gently singing along to the slow music.

Now you hang from my lips

Like the Gardens of Babylon

With your boots beneath my bed

Forever is the sweetest con.

Dean’s mouth twists into a smile. “I could spend forever with you,” he whispers, and he leans down to kiss his angel again.

#i hope you enjoy!#destiel #destiel secret santa #my writing #fanfic

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Settling (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Settling Rating: PG-13 Length: 2300 Warnings: Pinning Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set a few weeks before Old Parr in May 1989. Summary: Reader joins Javier and Steve at the bar.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Tonight was supposed to be a date night with Lance. You had actually been looking forward to it. He was a decent cook and you always had a good time at his place. But by the time you got dressed up, you weren’t in the mood. It was the tailend of a workweek from hell and frankly, you just wanted to wind down with Steve and Javier.

Lance didn’t even seem upset with you for canceling. He really was a great guy. So understanding. He’d make a great boyfriend for someone, someday. Shit.

“Look at you,” Steve remarked as you came to a halt beside their table. “Is this how you dress when you’re not stuck with us?”

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve seen me in a dress before, asshole.” You set your gaze on Javier then, waving your hand at him, “Scoot.”

He complied, scooting towards the wall to give you space to sit down on the booth beside him. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” You shrugged, drumming your fingers over the top of the table. “I was worried you’d be gone before I got here.” It was said to both of them, but your eyes lingered on Javier longer than necessary.

“The night is young.” Javier said with a smirk as he knocked back a shot of whiskey.

“Looks like I need to catch up.” You gestured to the whiskey, “I’ll be back.” You said as you slid out of the booth and headed to order drinks.

You heard Steve say something about getting refills, before he followed after you, “Did Lance cancel on you?” He questioned as he leaned against the bar beside you.

“I canceled on him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged your shoulders, tilting your head to look at him. “I just really wasn’t up for it.”

“You could’ve invited him out for drinks with us.” Steve suggested.

“Nah,” You shook your head. “We both know how Javi would’ve reacted to that. And I’m really not looking to sit through another pointed rant about the CIA. Even if I agree with him.”

“Are you and Lance okay?” He questioned, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned towards you.

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip. “We’re not not okay.” You hung your head. “I don’t know, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I could really love him. You know? I have this whole list of reasons why I should—“

“You have a list?” Steve shook his head as he chuckled. “Poor guy.”

“Poor guy is right,” You made a face. “It’s been almost a year and I think… He’s a lot more serious about this than I am.” You glanced back over your shoulder at Javier who was still nursing a bottle of beer. You’d rather be here than over at Lance’s. And you should’ve felt guilty about that. “Can we not talk about this at the table? I don’t wanna hear it from Javier.”

“Of course.” Steve gave your arm a pat. “For what it’s worth, if you have a list of reasons for why you should love someone, do you really love them?”

You slowly shook your head, “Probably not. But he’s a good guy. We always have fun together. We work… well enough.”

The bartender returned with the orders.

“It’s just… I always thought it would feel different. You know?” Your eyes flickered back towards the booth, only to find it empty.

“Forget I was here?” Javier remarked, causing your heart to skip a beat as he slung his arms over your shoulders and Steve’s.

“We can’t talk shit about you at the table.” Steve remarked, shaking his arm off. “The drinks just got here, jackass.”

His arm was still casually slung over your shoulders and you tried to ignore just how much you enjoyed it. “Were you really talking shit about me?” Javier questioned as he tapped on the bar and ordered two shots.

“In a round about way.” You answered, your eyes following Steve as he retreated back to the booth. “See you back at the table.”

Javier caught your arm before you could escape. “This shot has your name on it.” He said, gesturing towards the bartender as he returned with two shots. “You said you wanted to catch up.”

Your tongue traced over your bottom lip, before you relented, sitting your beer back down on the bar as you turned towards him. “Fine.” You crossed your arm with his, before bringing the shot to your lips and knocking it back with a satisfied hiss.

Something about the way the muscles of Javier’s neck showed as he leaned back to drink the whiskey caught your attention. And you tried to ignore the line of thinking that had you picturing your lips trailing over that same skin.

“So, where’s the suit?” Javier questioned, gesturing towards your dress. “Busy sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong?”

Something burned through you and it wasn’t just the whiskey. “Oh, fuck off Javier.” You snapped, turning on your heels and heading back for the booth.

You hadn’t considered the fact that entering the booth first meant Javier’s body would effectively cage you in. And he sat himself far too close to you as he rejoined you and Steve at the table.

Not that you hadn’t done the same before.

“Someone’s acting cagey about the CIA tonight.” Javier remarked lightly, giving you a pointed look.

“Drop it.” Steve said firmly, knocking his knuckles against the top of the table to get Javier’s attention. “Not tonight.”

You brought your beer bottle to your lips, glancing towards Javi. You watched the way his shoulders tensed as he stared straight ahead at Steve with body language you couldn’t quite read.

“Did you hear the director’s gonna be at the embassy this week?” Javier questioned, looking between you and Steve then.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Heard he’s in the city to meet with Barco. Things are going to be heating up over the next couple of months.” You explained, rolling the base of the beer bottle against the table.

“Escobar?” Steve questioned as he took a sip of beer.

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, giving a short shake of your head. “My sources think Gacha. He’s gone rogue the last couple months. Ever since news broke on the training camps, things have been tense.”

Javier rocked his jaw thoughtfully, “Your guy’s on the inside, right?”

Your eyes darted around warily, always cautious of who was listening. But the bar was filled with the regulars, familiar faces you’d seen weekly for almost two years. “Yeah. Matias has connections to the Ochoa brothers.” You answered Javier, keeping your voice low. “If we don’t get Gacha first, the Cali Cartel will. There’s a feud there that we could exploit.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he nodded in agreement, “Does Lance know about Matias?”

You rubbed your lips together and stared down at your bottle of beer.

“We didn’t come here to talk shop, Peña.” Murphy must’ve kicked him under the table because Javier jerked in his seat, his leg knocking against yours. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“I finally got my hands on a copy of Queen of the Damned. Only eight months after its release.” You answered, offering Javier a faint smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

Javier nudged you in the ribs, “Anytime, baby.”

“How many shots ahead of me, are you?” You questioned, chewing on your bottom lip as you tilted your head to look at him.

His brows furrowed, “Three. Including the one at the bar.”

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You shoved him playfully in the shoulder. “Go get me two.”

Reluctantly he slid out of the booth, glancing back at you, before he headed for the bar.

“Steve, I know I said I don’t want to discuss the Lance thing, but I can handle Javier being… Javier.” You knew he hated Lance, you were basically immune to his smartass comments at this point. “I appreciate the effort, though.”

“We both know Javier can take things too far.”

“I really don’t mind.” You looked towards the bar, watching as Javier laughed over something the bartender had said, before starting back towards the pair of you. “He means well.” You glanced back at Steve then, brows furrowed. “What’s that look for?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing.”

You frowned, “Doesn’t look like a nothing look to me.”

“Nah,” He waved his hand dismissively, before rubbing at the back of his neck. “So what’s the story with the book?”

“It’s been an absolute bitch trying to get non-essential shit through the embassy.” You explained, tapping the base of your bottle against the table, “I guess they don’t think Anne Rice is a need-to-have.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I’d mentioned the issue to Javier and he managed to get his hands on a copy.” You sat up a little straighter as Javier returned with the shots. “Let Connie know she can borrow it when I’ve finished.”

“She loves that shit.” Steve agreed with a nod. “She’ll get a kick out of it.”

You pushed your beer bottle aside as Javi returned, setting your sights on the two shots of whiskey. “You didn’t have more shots at the bar, did you?”

Javier shook his head, “We’ll be even after this.”

You downed both in succession, the glasses clinking against the table as you sat them back down heavily. You blinked, shuttering a little as you felt the warmth of the liquor fan out through you as it slid down your throat.

“You good?” Javier snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you good?” You countered, narrowing your eyes at him, before you looked back at Steve. “Why aren’t you doing shots?”

“I don’t mix.” He gestured to his bottle of beer.

“Weak.”

Steve shrugged, “Probably.”

God, you were glad you’d decided to show up here, rather than going to Lance’s. You liked the guy, you really did… but you wouldn’t trade anything for this. With Steve and Javier you felt like you belonged. And that wasn’t a feeling you were intimately familiar with.

And maybe in the long run you could love Lance, but you weren’t ready for your relationship to reach that stage. How could you love someone who was loathed by the person who meant the — by the people who meant the world to you. Both of them, not just Javier.

You swallowed thickly as you rubbed your lips together.

“What are you doing this weekend, Javier?” Steve questioned.

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m working on a new informant.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded slowly, “Alright. So work?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

Your eyes followed the path his fingers took as they moved through his hair, unsticking the hair that was sticking against his forehead and behind his ears. You’d never noticed the bluish green mark behind his ear.

“When’d you get a tattoo?” You blurted out.

“What?” Javier turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

“Your tattoo.” You reached out and brushed your fingers over the spot just behind his ear. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Shit,” He thought for a moment. “I think I was probably eighteen.”

You rubbed your thumb over the spot, before you gently played your fingers through his hair there, savoring the soft texture of it beneath your fingertips.

Steve cleared his throat, “You never noticed that before?”

You shook your head, “You know, Lance hates tattoos.”

“Figures.” Javier huffed, making no attempt to stop your fingers as you played them through his hair more freely. “I’ve got more if you’d ever like a private tour of them.”

“Maybe.” You said coyly, brushing your fingers down the back of his neck before you reached for your beer again.

Steve looked between the two of you, before shaking his head slowly. “Not that anyone asked, but Connie and I are gonna drive out to Buenaventura. Spend the weekend near the water.”

You and Javier both gave him a skeptical look.

“That’s ten hours away, Murphy.” You pointed out.

“So what?” Javi questioned. “You’re gonna drive ten hours just to stare at the water?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Connie’s missing Miami.”

“Buenaventura is not Miami.”

“The water.” Murphy insisted. “Look, we just need a getaway.” He leaned his elbows against the table, “Come to think of it, a getaway might do you and Lance some good.”

You caught the way Javier’s head turned, his eyes fixed on your face. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nope.” You said shortly, bringing your beer bottle to your lips. You kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. “Everything is just fine.”

He didn’t push it any further than that.

Another round of beers made its way to the table along with another pair of shots for you and Javier to share.

Why couldn’t it be this easy with Lance? You had fun with him, sure. But it never felt like this. And of course, it just had to be Javier. The last person in the world who would ever reciprocate anything outside of friendship.

And you were lucky you had that.

You never imagined yourself as the type of woman to settle, but honestly? Lance wasn’t that bad. He was a good man, he was kind and smart and funny. Good at his job. He should’ve been everything and yet...You’d rather be alone and have this than be stuck with someone you had to convince yourself to love.

Fuck. You were going to have to break up with Lance. And you were fairly certain he’d been slowly working towards popping the question with you.

But it wasn’t fair to either of you to keep playing a game.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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whenrockwasyoung19 · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Time to Talk about a Bespectacled Elephant in the Room

I’ve been in the Beatles fandom for 8 and a half years. I have had a Beatles blog for the entirety of those 8 and a half years, and I have watched as discourse about these four men evolve. The discourse inside and outside the fandom has become so toxic that I don’t think I can engage with it in the same way that I could before. Let me explain.

When I entered this fandom 8 and a half years ago, it was in 2012, quite an infamous year in tumblr history. That was the pique of “”cringey”” fandom culture. The Beatles fandom was as steeped in fandom culture as any other fandom. I know this because I was part of two of the top of fandoms at the time, Doctor Who and Sherlock. Believe me, I have seen cringe.

The fandom at the time was totally aware of the John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s flaws as individuals, but most fans tended to simply enjoy Beatles fandom as if it were the 60s. Some might call it ignorant bliss. If you asked me at the time, I’d have said it was self-aware ignorant bliss--if that even makes sense. At the time, there wasn’t a person with a Beatles icon who hadn’t heard the line “John Lennon beat his wife.” Everyone knew it, but everyone also knew the real story, and so everyone just made peace with it. As a result, people didn’t think about every bad thing the Beatles ever did on a daily basis. It was more like a once-a-month kind of thing. Otherwise, fandom discourse was quite fun and relaxed. There were no shipping wars, no one fought over who was the best Beatle, everyone gushed over the Beatles wives, and we all just had fun with fics and fan art.

Of course, in this period, people engaged in conversations about one bespectacled Beatles problematic behavior. These conversations usually came from outside of the fandom. It was usually randos coming into the tags or into someone’s ask box and ranting about John Lennon’s violent behavior. Some of it came from within the fandom. Some people really didn’t like John and gave others shit if they listed John as their favorite Beatle. A lot of the discourse boiled down to: ‘hey, I see you like John Lennon. You should know that he beat his wife. And now that you know that, you should feel bad about ever liking him in the first place.’ And the response was often, ‘Actually, John Lennon didn’t beat his wife. They weren’t even married at the time. And also he didn’t beat her, he slapped her once in the face, and then never did it again.’ No one’s minds were changed. The fans had made their peace, and the antis came off as cynical and pretentious.

When Dashcon happened, and Tumblr took a hard look at its cringey fandom culture, the Beatles fandom evolved as well. The fandom became, frankly, less fun. It no longer felt like a group of people who found the Beatles decades after the 60s and were fangirling like it was 1965. There was still some of that left, but a lot of it kind of faded. So, most fandom interactions were reblogging pictures of the Beatles from the 60s and various interview clips and quotes. But the barrage of antis never really went away, and the response didn’t evolve.

Then, the advent of cancel culture came on. I always waited for the Beatles to get, like, officially canceled, but I also felt they were uncancel-able at the same time. Let me explain. I have been a Beatles fan primarily in an online space, rarely engaging with fans in real life. But I have met fans who are life-long Beatles fans, people who are a lot older than us and who’s fandom isn’t tied to the internet. They don’t give a shit about any of our discourse. They may or may not have heard it before, but they seem totally indifferent to all of it. I’m sure most of them have never heard ‘Mclennon’ before. These are the people that flock to see Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert (and pay astronomical prices for it). These are the people who go to record shops and buy vinyl. These are the people I run into at flea markets who buy up all the Beatles merch before I can even arrive (true story). So, the Beatles will never be canceled because there will always be people who love the Beatles and don’t engage with online discourse. Rarely said, but thank god for Gen-X.

As cancel culture took over the internet, fandoms changed. It’s not as noticeable in fandoms without problematic favs. For instance, I’m also steeped in the Tom Holland fandom, and that boy is a little angel who has done no wrong. No one has discourse about the unproblematic boy who plays an equally unproblematic character. But in fandoms with ‘problematic favs’ the mood has shifted. I’m also in the Taron Egerton fandom. Taron Egerton, for those who only follow me for my Beatles stuff, is a genuinely sweet and kind person who has had zero scandals in his six year career. There were some rumblings when he was cast as Elton John, and some people took issue with the fact that he’s a straight man playing a gay man. This discourse seemed to die quickly as a whole lot of straight people played gay people in that same year (Olivia Coleman as queer Queen Anne, Emma Stone as her queer lover, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury). Why jump on this boy who at the time was still technically on the rise. He’s not exactly the same target as someone like Scarlett Johansson who has her pick of roles. Taron doesn’t have quite that some power in Hollywood, and I think most people made peace with the fact that this was a big role for him, and it’s not really fair to take that away from him. So, all in all, the closest thing to a scandal was something that died pretty much on arrival.

That was until this summer when everything changed. When George Floyd was murdered, celebrities flocked to social media to mourn his loss. Taron’s social media account was silent. For weeks, Taron said nothing about Black Lives Matter or Floyd’s death. This caused outrage in the fandom. Many raced to defend him, starting a hashtage #IstandwithTaron. Others sought to tear him down and anyone who supported him. The kind of mania this one incident caused tore through an otherwise peaceful fandom. What I saw was two sides in a total panic. The antis were people who once had faith that Taron was a good person and were now questioning that. Andthe defenders were people who desperately wanted him to be a good person and were afraid that he wasn’t. In essence, both sides could feel Taron about to get canceled. The defenders wanted to stop it, the antis wanted to ride that wave.

What this long drawn out Taron example is meant to convey: is that cancel culture has put fandoms on edge. One’s fav has to be perfect, otherwise it can jeopardize the existence of the entire fandom. I’ll admit, I was afraid that I’d be some kind of pariah for standing by Taron through all of this. My actions were to basically reason with the antis but still defend Taron. I defend him mostly because I felt that his silence was the result of a needed social media absence and that trying to shame him back onto social media was an invasion of privacy. But I was genuinely afraid that he would get canceled, and the fun of the Taron fandom would be lost.

In the Beatles fandom, it often feels like the Beatles, mainly John, have already been canceled. I see this coming from two different sources: antis from outside of the fandom and antis within the fandom. The outside antis are just the same as the ones from 2012. These are people who like to drop in that John Lennon beat his wife, posting this in the tag (which violates an ancient tumblr real by the way--no hate in the tags).

The antis outside the fandom speak to a larger anti-John Lennon sentiment online. I see references to John Lennon ‘beating his wife’ on Tiktok and twitter. The tone of anti-John Lennon posts has shifted. Before, it felt like the antis were being smug but also argumentative. They wanted to have a conversation about this bit of info they read on Reddit with no context. Now, “John Lennon beating his wife” is practically a meme. It’s a running joke online that John Lennon was a wife beater. I can’t look on my instagram explore page because every so often a John Lennon beats his wife meme will pop up amongst the other, normal, memes.

This change in discourse suggests that the internet has just accepted this as fact now. I should note that back in 2012, it seemed as if few people knew this fact. The fandom knew it, and these random antis knew it, but few others did. Now, because of how common these memes are, it seems to be widespread knowledge.

Consequently, the Beatles fandom, who used to ward off attacks from antis, seems to have given in. I recently saw a post from a Beatles blog (had the URL and icon and everything) that confessed they felt guilty for listening to the Beatles, and I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed in the fandom. People tend to put disclaimers in posts about John or even all four that John is an ‘awful man.’ It seems like the self-aware ignorant bliss has completely gone away. Occasionally, I still see posts joyously talking about Mclennon or reblogs of old photos from the 60s. But the culture has shifted.

Online, it no longer feels comfortable to be a Beatles fan. It feels like you have to own up to 8 decades of mistakes by four men you’ve never met. And, I should note, this is kind of how it feels to be a fan of anything right now. Taron is not canceled today, but he could be tomorrow. It’s this pervasive feeling of guilt that the person you’re supporting may or definitely has or is doing something wrong.

I’ll admit this uncomfortable feeling has expanded into other parts of my fandom life. I listen to their music, and I feel elated--the way I always have. Then, I get these intrusive thoughts which sound like all the worst parts of Twitter combined. It wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, when I knew almost nothing about them, I saw them as four young men who were full of happiness, love for another, and talent. Back then, listening to their music was exciting and joyous. Sometimes, I fear that I can never feel that way again. Next year, when I finally go to Liverpool, will I be filled with excitement or guilt?

I say all this for a few reasons. One, I love John Lennon. I appreciate all the good he did for the world not just as a musician and an artist but also his advocacy and charity work. I love him, and a part of me will always love him, but observing the change in discourse has enlightened me as a historian. Part of my job is to observe people’s legacies, and John’s is perhaps the most interesting legacy I’ve ever observed. When he died, he was hailed as a saint. But tall poppy syndrome set in, and the antis started. This culture grew and grew to the point where it seems to, at least among the younger generation, taken over the sainthood.

But as a historian and a fan, I have never seen the saint or the devil. I’ve only seen the man, the incredibly flawed man. The thing that these antis never understand is that John Lennon was painfully aware of his own flaws to the point where it made him all the more self-destructive. In essence, his past mistakes caused him to make additional mistakes. But John, aware of his own flaws, always tried to change and was often successful. I’ve talked about this before, but John demonstrated that he was capable of being a good person, like properly so, again and again. After he struck Cynthia, he never hit her again. His shortcomings as a father to Julian weren’t repeated with Sean. He worked on his drinking, his drug addiction, and his anger, trying to overcome those demons till the day he died. By all accounts, the John Lennon that died in 1980 is not the John Lennon who struck Cynthia Powell at school. That John Lennon was living a cleaner, healthier life. He was a better father to both his sons by that point, and was trying to repair his relationship with Julian. He was a good husband to Yoko and saw himself living a long and happy life.

John Lennon cannot and should not be boiled down to just his flaws. It’s one thing as a fan to acknowledge that John is a flawed human being (news flash: they all are), but he is also much bigger than that.

So once again, why am I writing this long, rambling post, once again talking about John Lennon’s virtues? Because if I can’t engage with healthy discourse about the Beatles and John Lennon, then I can’t engage with discourse on the topic at all. So, I probably will post less Beatles stuff because I find it hard to go through the tags or even my dash (well, I can’t really go through my dash anymore for other reasons I’m not going to get into right now). If any of my followers have noticed a lot of Taron posts lately, it’s not just because I love Taron, it’s because Taron’s tag is pretty much the only location on tumblr I feel 100% comfortable in. Any foray into John or the Beatles tags becomes uncomfortable and guilt-ridden quickly.

So, I probably will post less about the Beatles until I can find a blog or a tag that doesn’t give me bad vibes. My fandom will likely outgrow tumblr and the internet. I have a ton of Beatles books; maybe I’ll rely on those. I am doing official scholarly research on them now. Maybe that will be my outlet. I’m sorry if I post less about them now, but it’s really for my own well-being.

#John lennon #the beatles

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