#not even a rally towel guys?
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not to be a hater but this is the least they've done for a Pride night since they started them
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Hey, can I request something platonic with divergent. Something where reader was a dancer (I'm thinking ballet but it's up to you) before coming to dauntless so everyone underestimates her because they don't know how much strength it takes to dance. Feel free to ignore, I love your work.
'finding the moment' - divergent
masterlist
You’d think a faction that prides itself on taking any person and making them stronger than all others would know better than to underestimate somebody, but you’d be wrong. You’d think that the several years you’ve spent in Dauntless would be enough to wipe the glaring target clean from your back, but you’d be wrong again. You thought you knew what it took to stop the endless rumors about just how you got into this faction, but– well, by now it’s a pattern.
Everyone talks badly about the transfers. Everyone. All it takes to clear your name is one good fight in front of everyone or one great display of strength, and then even the most fervent of naysayers will shut up for good. That being said, apparently you’ve just got bad luck when it comes to finding that one moment, because no matter how many fights you win, it seems like the right crowd just isn’t watching.
You passed initiation with a far higher score than even you expected. You weren’t the top two, but definitely among the top five. It was more than a respectable showing, especially for a transfer. You picked a job you liked and showed your success with it. Dauntless is clearly changed for the better because you’re here, yet you still hear the whispers of rumors whenever you enter a crowded room. Everyone does something big to prove themselves. What’s your grand show going to be?
It’s starting to gnaw away at you, rust at a grand metal showcase. You have never failed your chosen faction. You’ve gone above and beyond at your job, but it seems like behind the scenes work isn’t the way to cut it when it comes to Dauntless popular approval. When two years have come and gone since you entered initiation and yet the tide still hasn’t turned in your favor, you decide to throw in the towel and go to the best source of advice regarding former transfers who managed to rally this bravehearted faction behind them, and that would be Four.
Although he’ll never admit it to anyone but a chosen few, Four isn’t exactly Dauntless born and bred, although you’d never guess it by looking at him. Four emanates cold, calculating judgment, always in control but quick to a punch when he needs to be. Yet behind him in a dusty and well-hidden past lies an upbringing not in Dauntless, but Abnegation of all the factions. Talk about a reversal of roles. Four wears Dauntless well, but he, too, had to go through the pain of being a transfer once, and if anyone can tell you how to hack it, it’s your friend.
Four knows what you want from the moment you find him. “I was wondering when you were going to start asking that sort of question,” he admits. A slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of a smile, swallowed up by his usual stony demeanor. No one can do a poker face like Four, although you’re secretly not sure if it’s due to supreme control over his emotions or perhaps just apathy at life surrounding him. A childhood in Abnegation would certainly do that to a guy.
You arch a brow. “So you were just keeping that information from me all this time? Way to be a good friend, Four.”
He coughs. It might be a laugh, but it can be hard to tell sometimes. “A true Dauntless would seek out information on their own. They wouldn’t need someone else to hold their hand and give them what they need all the time.”
You frown. “That sounds more like Erudite, really. You might be getting your factions confused.”
“I see why no one takes you seriously as a Dauntless,” Four deadpans. “Attitude.”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, Four, because you certainly don’t have an attitude. And neither does Eric. Or anyone else here.”
This time, you’re sure he grins. “You might have a point. Although Eric might not be the best example of Dauntless pride. He’s a transfer too, you know.”
Your jaw drops. “What? No way, he seems like he’s been here all his life. If you told me Eric Coulter just appeared one day out of the pit, I’d believe you.”
“It would make sense,” Four muses.
You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. “Jokes aside, I’m serious. How is it that both you and Eric were able to get rid of the transfer gossip so quickly?”
“We weren’t,” Four reveals. “We both had a bunch of public, bad fights in the ring before anyone started taking us seriously. That, and the fact that we were both in the top two initiation results. We had to have a moment where we proved to everyone that we deserved to be here.”
You groan. “I keep hearing about this moment thing. That’s not real, right? I’ve won plenty of fights here, but that doesn’t impact my reputation in the slightest.”
“Probably because they think you’re pulling your punches,” Four says. “Look, I didn’t lead your initiation when you went through training, so I don’t know for sure, but rumor has it, people don’t think you’re willing to go all the way. That’s why they accepted me as one of their own, you know. I got into a fight with a rival initiate, hurt him so badly he never dared to look at me again. That’s how they know you’re a real Dauntless. You have to give up fear completely.”
You whistle under your breath. “Dark stuff, Four.”
“It’s Dauntless,” he says. “What else did you expect?”
Truth be told, not much else. You love your chosen faction, even when its acceptance can be slow going, but it’s always been gritty, violent. Real. It’s what drew you here in the first place. You’re used to people lying to your face. In Dauntless, everything is fact or fiction, no gray areas. At last, everything makes sense.
You’re still mulling over Four’s words the next day, trying to wrap your head around just how you can eliminate fear completely from your person. This proverbial moment of Dauntless infamy is far harder to come by than anyone seems to suggest, and it’s starting to drive you mad.
Tired of seeing you tired, your friends drag you out for a training session one night. In true Dauntless fashion, nothing lifts your spirits like a round or two in the ring. After another thrilling victory, one of your friends laughs disbelievingly as she pulls herself up.
“I don’t get it,” she says, brushing herself off. “You always move so easily. How do you keep your balance that well?”
You grin. “I used to dance before I came here. It was great for coordination.”
Your friend nods along, and starts to say something about how she could see that when she’s suddenly interrupted by a voice a few feet away. “You did dance? I can’t believe it.”
You frown, glancing towards the source of the trouble. It’s a young man about your age, he went through initiation a year or so after you did. “What did you say?”
The man scoffs again. “If I were you, I’d never admit to something like that. Dance. Might as well transfer to Amity. It’s probably a better fit for you anyway.”
He starts to turn around, but he stops dead in his tracks when you call after him. “You want to try that again? Don’t talk to me like that.”
He casts you a disbelieving glance. “I’ll say whatever I want.”
“Then you’d better transfer to Candor,” you tell him icily. “Or, better yet, how about you meet me in the ring?” When he hesitates, you laugh. “What, are you scared? I thought you were so much better than me just because I did dance.”
That does it, and the man crosses the floor to join you in the ring. Your raised voice has started to draw a crowd, but you couldn’t care less about the other people there. The only thing that matters is making sure you get this guy to the ground before he can draw another breath to put you down. He’s substantially taller than you, and his arms are well muscled, but he’s underestimated you, and nothing– nothing– makes you as furious as that.
See, there’s one thing nobody here realizes about dance, because none of them have done it, and that is the incredible strength it takes to pull off even the most basic of maneuvers. You have exquisite balance, fantastic timing, and your legs and core are stronger than many people here.
So, although it comes as no surprise to you when your opponent is toppled and swiftly pinned in a matter of minutes, the ripple of shock that surges through the training hall echoes all the way up to the high ceilings. You stand over the felled man, looking down on him coldly. “Don’t ever try to belittle me again,” you inform him. “Also, you might want to look into some dance lessons. Might help you stop being so weak.”
With that, you jump down from the ring. A crowd has formed, but they part to give you space wherever you walk. For once, though, the faces aren’t judgmental but awestruck. On every expression here, you see something new: grudging, genuine respect.
It occurs to you at last, when you look back at all the people who’ve seen you win, that this was it, this was your moment. You’ve proven yourself. At last, you’re one of the Dauntless, and everyone knows it, too. This is victory, and it is yours.
divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#divergent#divergent imagines#divergent oneshot#divergent fanfic#dauntless#dauntless imagines#dauntless oneshot#dauntless fanfic#four#four oneshot#tobias eaton#tobias eaton oneshot
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It's been a minute since I've written a post about The Patriot, but what better time than the next to last day of the year while recovering from covid?
A while ago, another parallel between Benjamin Martin and the titular character in my old, bygone fandom the BBC Robin Hood occurred to me. How many times does Robin threaten to throw in the towel on being the peoples' savior for reasons that range from his love interest being murdered to some townsfolk having the audacity to hold him responsible for the consequences the Sheriff of Nottingham doles out to all of them in response to his actions? A lot of times across the show's three seasons, it turns out. And it would be one thing if the point being made was that no one can save the world alone. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes and has to rely on their friends to pick them up. Considering that every time Robin quits, it is a friend who brings him back, that would be an excellent point to make. But it's not. It's Robin's name on the tin, and the show never lets us forget it.
Although "the patriot" technically refers to Martin's son Gabriel, it is Benjamin who is consistently presented as the movie's hero even as he is ready to give up every time something he failed to foresee happens or his solution to a problem does not immediately work. He gives up on reasoning with ALL British officers after his efforts with Colonel "Fire the house and barns" fail, resulting in massive carnage. He gives up on mounting any kind of offensive against the Green Dragoons when sends everyone home after arriving too late to save one family. He packs up to go home again after Gabriel dies. His momma raised a quitter for sure.
In some respects, the series is more grating because the arc over which the complication arises, the hero throws in the towel, his friends talk him out of it, and he eventually triumphs plays out in multiple episodes with no variation. But, there is another comparison to be made between the two. In Robin Hood, Sheriff Vaisey and Guy of Gisborne are both trying to increase their own power and wealth in different ways over the course of the series, and Robin is foiling them. Catching Robin is not the end goal for these antagonists that catching Martin becomes for Colonel Tavington. And Tavington, unlike his historical inspiration Banastre Tarleton, never gives up in all the months he spends in this pursuit. His response when General Cornwallis berates him for his failure to deliver Martin is simply "Thus far."
The final fight between him and Martin provides a particularly stark contrast. Tavington, by that point, has been violently thrown from his horse (deceased) and shot in the arm by Martin, not to mention that he is still recovering from being shot in the side by Gabriel a few days earlier. He doesn't care. He picks himself up, literally. He tells himself "Be Gay and Carry On," or "Keep Calm and do Crimes," and he attacks. Initially, he and Martin are evenly matched, and Tavington takes some more damage. He decks Martin in the face and slashes him with his saber. Martin, outraged, head-butts him and stabs him in the tit. Again, Tavington doesn't care. He is a bad bitch, and this is a typical Tuesday in the British Army. He rallies and slashes Martin on the back and legs and . . . that's pretty much the end of the fight as a fight.
(I must make an aside here that I was adamant at the outset of writing this that as soon as Tavington touched Martin, he was done. Martin was How Very Dare You? Don't You Know Who I Am? and just falls apart. That isn't quite true, but he certainly doesn't have the resilience of someone who has not had triumph handed to him again and again. Rewatch the source material when you write meta, folks.)
After punching Martin in the face and slashing his arm, Tavington, who has been fighting with only his saber up to this point, drops to one knee, picks up the bayonet that eventually ends up going through his neck, and rises with a menacing grin. Apparently, he wants to be evenly matched with Martin more than he wants to take advantage of Martin's loopiness from having been hit for the first time in twenty years with something more than an emotional blow. The slut. Of course, what also happens is that he gives Martin an opportunity to recover that Martin certainly does not give him (conduct of a gentleman be damned). And as we all know, it's certainly not the last time this happens.
Both of these low-pain-and-disappointment-tolerant heroes have the reputation of being great fighters, but I feel confident in saying Robin deserves his far more. Pretty much every time someone gains the upper hand over him, that person is fighting dirty. In The Patriot, let's be honest. Benjamin Martin is the dirty fighter here. He is very good at jumping out from behind trees to kill people who didn't know he was there one second before, but he sure as hell can't take a hit. Ultimately, his triumph is even more annoying than Robin's for several reasons. Robin's longsuffering, under-appreciated friends are usually able to get his ass back on track before peasant casualties accumulate iirc. Martin's inaction contributes significantly to the movie's very high civilian body count. For this reason, along with his being a bitch of a completely different kind than Tavington, Martin does not deserve to be bailed out of situations where he is so ready to embrace defeat. Moreover, I think Tavington deserved a little bit of triumph. Not too much; he is a child-murdering war criminal. But he deserved to take Martin out with him. He certainly worked a lot harder for it than Martin did.
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My (extensive) notes about the Newsies ensemble + secondary and background characters in the UK production
Again disclaimer, I sat in Manhattan so I am aware I missed lots of interactions between the boys but I already have a lot to say from what I saw
Also I will put race in my other post about the main characters because I have way too much stuff to say about him
Uksies spoilers below the cut
A few thoughts about the ensemble :
The level of character in this show is genuinely so good ?? Like even background newsies with little to no line still have a kind of character arc through the show
Because it's not just about what's going on "officially" on stage, it's all the little interactions they have in the background or when walking through the aisles. It's the way they hug and show affection to each other. It's the way they clearly all have preferred friendships, people they will choose to go to, even tho they are close to all the others. It's the way they run to help each other during Seize the day, the way they look so sad and betrayed when the scabs appear for the first time- And I could go on for hours about all the little interactions like those
Also they added so much stuff to give more depth to every single character ??? Like in Seize the day they all come into a triangle and say their name, and yes it's important for the strike on a symbolic level but also in the show, because they aren't just members of the ensemble. Each of them is his own character with his own personality and honestly that's really interesting and meaningful
+ this is echoed later on when the girlsies all come into a circle and say their name during Brooklyn's here (also they have their own dance break !!! Center stage !!). And the Brooklyn girls don't play a major part in the show after that song (except maybe for Spot), but here, in the same way as the boys, they get the opportunity to be seen by the audience as their own character
So yeah I could say a lot about the ensemble stuff but tbh this part was so striking to me I really wanted to talk about it because it's really beautiful and I love the fact that this was included in the show
Anyway a few of my favorite things about the secondary/background characters, in no particular order because I basically just wanted to write down my thoughts
Tommy boy < 33
If you know me you know I love him, and Jack bromage owns my heart and soul
When I talked about how background newsies get a character arc, I was specifically thinking about him. During Seize the day he is the last scab to change his mind (they gave him the "My father's gonna kill me anyway" line !!!!), and then later during the rally he is really angry and screams "WE HATE YOU" at jack at the top of his lungs. Yes he is insecure and mad at Jack because he was the one who convinced him to join the strike and now he is just giving up on them
Tommy boy okay
Also I already mentionned this but in the "who wants Brooklyn" scene he just goes lying face first on the ground and plays dead, which is even funnier because 0.0005 seconds earlier he was among the most eagers to talk to the others neighbourhoods. Comedic gold I swear
Finch
I LOVE DAMON OKAY
His mic was broken at the beginning and there was a moment of panic when he realized it but tbh he coped like a boss
Gayest Finch and I'm not sorry
When the scabs come in and he says "They think they can just walz in here and take our jobs ?", he sounds genuinely heartbroken and betrayed. Those guys are his friends and he can't believe they are doing this. Also when he was saying this line it looked like he was talking directly to one of the scabs but I didn't see which one
Henry
Update on my Henry hyperfixation : it's stronger than ever
Give me Matt's Henry or give me death
"I'M COMING RACE" Okay king
At the beginning of Carrying the banner he scratches his crotch very agressively with his towel and then proceeds to wash his face with said towel. Got quite a reaction from the audience
His attitude and costume clearly put him among the oldest boys along with Finch, Race, Specs and Albert
Before wwk it felt like he was one of the angriest about the prices, tho he also seemed quite bewildered and lost and didn't know what to do about it
His "What the absolute fuck Race" attitude during kony was extremely strong
Also him and Race seemed to be pretty close ! E.g. when the boy all come in front of the gate before wwk, he is pulling a carriage with Race on it and when Race gets down he ruffles Henry's hair, which I thought was a pretty cute detail to add
Mike
He seemed so young ??? When all the boys were discussing the strike he just looked really tiny and anxious
It has been officially established that he is among the youngest newsies and um sir. It shows.
Also he is very loud and visible. He has like 1 solo line but you can't miss him. He talks loudly, gets angry, moves a lot...
Also he goes on the zipline at the end !!
Romeo
"Me thinks the lady needs to be handled by a *snaps suspenders* real man"
Cutest Romeo I swear
Also his "thank you lady" at the beginning ? Not only was it perfect but also I'm pretty sure some of the boys winced (Mark I'm looking at you) and judging by his voice George himself was close to losing it
Overall my favorite interpretation of the character and I was really sad I didn't get to focus on him more
Elmer
Not the one I focused on the most, but Rory looked so sweet honestly !
"I dunno sister but it's bound to rain sooner or later" amazing as always
Everytime I looked at him he looked kinda happy and cheerful, elmer is and will always be the human embodiment of pure sunshine
Splasher !!!
Given that he is a new character, he was the only newsies I didn't know anything about when I came in and I immediately fell in love with him (I mean how can you not)
Okay part of it is because they gave him my favorite line of the show : "at the end of the say who are you gonna trust ? Them (affectionate) or them (derogatory) ?"
And he is genuinely so sweet ?? Everytime I looked at him he was smiling and tbh his smile his very contagious
In seize the day he is the first one to get hit by the cops (he has the line "it's about time you showed up") and um hello ??? Give this boy a hug already
Also obviously, the talent of this guy is incredible. Absolutely rocking the floor in Seize the day + he has an amazing voice !!!
ALBERT
He was ??? Perfect ??
He is loud he is arrogant he is a hothead he is a pure ball of chaos
The leg of lamb scene was legit the most ridiculously funny line delivery. He just comes stumbling on stage in nothing but a towel like "hey race guess what very interesting thing just happened to me-"
During Carrying the banner my boy was straight up ready to fight the Delanceys
"TAKE IT DOWN SHORT STOP" okay but it isn't just the voice it's the way he takes a tough pose and his whole mocking attitude toward Les. Jacob said he was trying to mimic the attitude of the Les he has in front of him and honestly, it shows
Also for anyone wondering yes the Race/Albert friendship was very present. He also seemed kinda close to Specs
Also Specs !
I didn't get to focus on him as much as I would have wanted (same goes for Mush, Jojo and Ike actually that's why I'm not talking about them here, I really hope I'll be able to look at those four more when I go back) but still
They cut "I lost my shoe" ??? The worst part is I actually knew about it but forgot so during wwk I was expecting this line and was really thrown off when they just skipped to the next lyrics
Before Seize the day when he is on look-out and Jack (?) asks if he has any news of Brooklyn he goes "no" and adds "I'm sorry". And like it's a new thing and the way he said it ??? He was so sad and hopeless I just wanted to give him a hug
Okay yes I didn't get to look at them at other moments but still huge shoutout to Josh Denyer and Arcangelo for absolutely rocking the floor during Seize the day
The girlsies < 33
I LOVE THEM ???
Their entrance was so dramatic and sassy pls
Also I will never stop talking about it but- they get a dance break !!! They get to say their names !!! They are so much more important than in any other production I love it
Also they don't just stay in their own little corner, they interact with the boys ! They all seem to be on pretty friendly terms, they talk together, hug and wave at each other...
They aren't just plot devices with one (1) dramatic scene, they are characters ! They have friends !! They have actual friendships with the Manhattan boys !! And it makes the whole Brooklyn's here scene so much more meaningful bc it really feels like they are coming to help their friends
Did I ever mention how much I love Spot ? Lillie slaying as always
She is tough she is sarcastic she is ready to kick your ass I love her
Also at some point Lillie said Spot was very close to Davey in act 2, and if I'm being honest I had some doubts about this friendship but boy oh boy I would die for them
During the rally + during and after once and for all they seem to be talking together a lot and be on very good terms which was actually pretty cool !
Okay moving on to some non-newsies characters and then I'll stop I promise
Bill and Darcy !!!
They switched the costume colors around, Darcy has a dark suit while Bill has a white one so that was a change
Also George said "My father owns the tribune" (instead of just "the trib" like I'm used to) so that threw me off for a bit but actually I liked it
Also I loved the way Alex said "And proud to be a part of your revolution !" It felt really natural and nice I love Bill okay he's so sweet
Anyway then they were just. Vibing by the printing press. Good for them honestly
The Delancey
They are literally evil. They aren't just messing around, they actually mean harm. E.g. when they are taking Jack in the cellar he just falls on the ground and they keep kicking him
But what's to like in this production is their dynamic with each other. They are extremely physical, everything they come in they are always very close, shoulders brushing or something. Also they often gently push and tease each other
Overall in this version they feel so much more like brothers, their dynamic as a family and toward the newsies was much deeper and more interesting than in any other version imo
Also they aren't just physically affectionate with each other. The three scabs ? They were comforting them and patting their shoulders before pushing them towards the other newsies. When the first scab joins the strike (I don't remember who it was), they are being very gentle with Tommy boy, from where I was it looked like they were telling him he was gonna be okay or smth
Hannah < 333
Hello ??? Bobbie Chambers I owe you my heart and soul
She was amazing pls
Extremely light-hearted and a bit sarcastic
At the end in Pulitzer's office she starts going "actually they put up a pretty good banner" and so on and then she sees Pulitzer's face and just goes *okay sorry" in the most oh-shit-don't-kill-me voice ever
Anyway every single one of her lines was delivered perfectly nothing but love for her
Finally, Medda !
Amazing as always, I feel like her relationship with Jack was really explored here !
It's the way they hug the first time Jack comes in the theater. The way she cares so deeply for him and worries about him. It's the way she looks genuinely sad about the fact he wants to go, she knows it's a bad idea and wants to hold him back but at the same time she knows it's his choice so she doesn't force him to do anything
Also the That's rich performance was pretty cool !!
#hey guess who finally did something constructive with their thoughts instead of just screaming around#i feel genuinely bad for completely ignoring some of them but i was trying to focus on everything at once#if i go back at least i know where i need to put my attention#newsies#newsies uk#uksies#leo's newsies analysis
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the sweet things in life (tsukishima x reader)
previous || next
chapter 9: pool
A few practice matches occurred the following day. You couldn't keep your eyes off of a certain blond, and often you'd find him also looking at you in between rallies. You assisted your team, congratulating them and giving them constructive criticism for what they could work on. They played particularly strongly against Nekoma earlier, and it was clear that the training camp was benefiting them greatly.
Kiyoko had sent you to fill the water bottles, since the boys' current game against Ubugawa was only a few points from being over. You brought the carriers out into the hallway and filled them up individually, which was an admittedly tedious and boring task. It honestly seemed to be taking much longer than it should've, the water pressure seemed a little low. After what felt like forever, and you were sure the game must've been over by now, you were done with the last bottle. You screwed the cap on and readied yourself to lift the carriers.
"Need some help?" a voice came. You turned to see one of the Shinzen players, the captain actually, if you weren't mistaken. Ogano was his name.
"No actually. But thank you" you responded. You weren't weak, and the bottles really weren't that hard to transport due to the carriers. He didn't seem to want to let it go though, determined to feel like a manly-man or something like that. As though you weren't more than capable of doing it yourself.
"Really, I insist" he said, attempting to take one of the carriers off of your arm. You attempted to keep it away from him, resulting in a struggle between the two of you. He pulled hard enough to both break the handle off of the carrier, causing half of the bottles to break open and leak onto the floor, while also pulling you forward to him and causing you to lose your balance.
Basically, you fell forward onto the now soaked ground, landing on you palms which now stung and overall getting your clothes wet. You didn't really have time to understand what had just happened. You heard the boy stuttering out apologies and further trying to help you, but you just ignored him. You tried to fight back the tears that threatened to leak from your eyes, and mostly succeeded. It's just that your knees and palms hurt now, and you were pissed.
"Get away from her" a familiar voice came from down the hall. Ogano tried to explain himself and the situation to whoever the quickly approaching person was. You thought you recognized the voice, but it was very uncharacteristic of the boy you thought it was to yell. When the figure finally got to the two of you, he shoved Ogano away and told him to leave for a second time. You looked up at your savior with teary eyes, and Kei caught your attention. He was still sweaty (and probably thirsty, considering the lack of water bottles due to this incident), looked exhausted, and even a little out of breath. But he was there for you, so you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to ease your mind.
He then gazed down at you with a pitiful expression, like judging you for weakness. You looked away, deeply embarrassed and upset that he had seen you like this. Surprisingly, he knelt down in front of you while avoiding the water, and placed his hand on your back.
"That guys an ass. Don't even waste your time thinking about this" he bluntly stated. It made you feel better. You accepted his outstretched hand, and attempted to wipe the excess water off of you. He offered his sweat towel, which caused your face to twist in disgust despite the fact that you were the one that looked like a wet dog.
"I haven't used it yet, relax" he said. He wiped your eyes with the hand not around your shoulders. After your face was dry, he stood up.
"Thank you," you couldn't really communicate just how appreciative you were. Especially from him.
"Don't let people walk all over you" he said, holding his hand out for you to grab. You gratefully accepted it as he brought you to your feet. He never took his hand out of yours.
"I'll walk you to your room."
You smiled.
----
As it turned out, there was a pool at Shinzen. As a way to cool down, teams were allowed to go there after the practice matches were done for the day and before it was dinner time.
Up in the managers room, all of you were changing into your swimsuits. You complimented Yukie's (respectfully she's fine), and in return she told you how yours looked amazing on you.
After your interactions with Tsukishima, you were more than excited and hoped that he would be down in the pool as well, while hoping Ogano would skip out on it (though he was a teenage boy so you highly doubted it). You had no doubt that Kuroo and Bokuto would be there already, Akaashi was the only one you weren't too sure about. Your Karasuno boys would definitely be enjoying the pool, and likely most of the other teams might have some guys there too. The guy-to-girl ratio was of course a little questionable, but the large majority of the guys respected you all so you weren't too concerned.
When you got down there, though, it certainly was a sight to see. A majority of all the players from every team were already in the giant pool (picture this as just an indoor high school pool). Some of them were playing water polo, some were racing, and a few were wading. Some of the guys weren't even in the pool, Kenma was sitting and playing his handheld while occasionally observing the tomfoolery in the pool. Some of his teammates were trying to get him to join them, but he seemed to want no part of it.
Bokuto slammed the water polo ball down, causing Lev to jerk aside and give up a point, which in turn caused Yaku to shove his face down into the water. Kuroo burst out laughing at the torment of his underclassman. You noticed Ogano in a race with another Shinzen player and cringed. You would definitely steer clear of that side of the pool. On the other end of the pool, you made eye contact with Tsukishima, who was standing next to Yamaguchi. You gave a small smile and wave and he didn't react. You decided not to take it personally.
You set your towel down before stepping down the ladder. You decided to stay in the shallow end due to most of the deep end being taken up by the water polo game. You headed over to Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, receiving some 'ooh's' from the other managers, though Yachi decided to follow you. The two were standing on the incline between the deep and shallow end, likely because the water wouldn't even reach past their waists if they weren't. You walked over (extremely slowly) to the two.
"Hey (l/n), hi Yachi" Yamaguchi said. You smiled at him and gave a brief 'hey' in response as Yachi's face heated up and she nervously waved. You stood near to Tsukishima, who you now noticed up close didn't have his glasses on. He squinted down at you, so you moved closer to him to try and make it easier for him. He quietly complimented your swimsuit. Your heart fluttered at the attention from him. You thanked him just as quietly and turned to see the interaction between Yamaguchi and Yachi, which was just as shy as you would expect.
You watched them with a very smug look on your face, which Tsukishima noticed (because he hadn't taken his eyes off of you).
"What's up with you?" he whispered. You gave him a side eyed glance before reaching up and cupping your hands.
"She likes him. I think it could work" you whispered in his ear. He huffed out a laugh and turned to look at the two. Yachi looked incredibly embarrassed, stuttering her way through their conversation. Yamaguchi was much calmer, but there was some pink in his freckled face. He looked back down to see your goofy smirk and couldn't help but smirk at your attempt at matchmaking.
Then, Ogano splashed a little too close to you guys, and Tsukki glared in the general direction. You made a comment on how blind he was without his glasses, which made him roll his eyes at you. You playfully splashed him, before running to hide behind Yachi. She freaked out a little, but giggled when she realized what was happening. You decided to join in on their conversation, floating back over to Tsukishima as you responded to something Yamaguchi said.
Someone had come up with the absolutely amazing totally not dangerous at all idea for 'chicken battle royale', which would be everyone versus each other in the pool, with the last team standing being the winners. It was to be expected from a bunch of high school boys.
"Tch, how dumb" you heard Tsukishima mumble behind you. You could practically hear the eye roll. "Well you're gonna be my teammate so get ready for the dumb-ness" you told him. You smirked back at him and he gave you an irked expression. Your expression was basically 'sorry, not sorry' before you told him to get down so you could get on his shoulders. He pursed his lips and looked at you to see if you were actually serious before sighing and bending down slightly. You took the opportunity and jumped up onto his shoulders. He held your legs tightly, palms squeezing your thighs to balance you. Luckily, his hair was short enough and wouldn't end up obscuring his vision, and his absent glasses left no weakness for your chicken pair.
You managed to take down Noya (Tanaka wasn't the most reliable base, and you had caught him when he was staring at Kiyoko). They had been standing relatively close to you, so you made quick work of them. You directed him towards the middle of the shallow end, sticking way out of the water. You were about to get Yaku (who was on Lev's shoulders), when Lev randomly toppled over, eliminating both of them. Yaku resurfaced and immediately started reprimanding him. Unfortunately, you were backstabbed and pushed over by Kuroo, as Bokuto laughed.
Bokuto and Kuroo had won the entire thing (which wasn't surprising at all). You were still next to Tsukishima, though you started to shiver from the difference in temperature (since your top half had gotten wet when you lost).
"I'm cold" you told him. You totally didn't take your time heading over to the ladder. The two of you got out of the pool and you wrapped your towel around yourself before following Tsukishima to his towel. He quickly wiped his hair down before putting the towel on his shoulders. He then put his glasses back on and blinked a little, letting his eyes readjust. Once they did, he looked down at you just so he could take in your visage again, now that it was no longer a blur.
You didn't stay long, as you both made your way out of the loud pool room and went up to your respective rooms to change. The two of you had promised to meet back up when you were ready.
Sifting through your backpack, you found a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top (since you had been less chilled than you were at the pool). You left your hair to air dry and headed back outside, where sure enough Tsukishima was already waiting for you. He was back in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. You gave him a smile and closed the door to the managers room before you two headed down to the road.
The two of you walked for who knows how long, off into the fields behind the school. The Saitama Prefecture had beautiful, spanning fields with plenty of diverse flora. You hadn't really gotten the chance to fully explore the grounds surrounding Shinzen, so you were eager to do so now (especially with Tsukishima).
He was walking silently alongside you, staring off into the distance. You had no idea what he was thinking about, but he seemed at peace. His beautiful golden-brown eyes analyzed your surroundings, watching as the sun sank further down. When you noticed this, you realized the others were probably eating about now or at least getting close.
"Should we get back for dinner?" you interrupted the calming silence. You looked over to him eagerly, since you would oblige to whatever answer he came up with. He shook his head and encouraged you to keep walking, though not before he looked down at you. His usually harsh gaze was much softer, something you'd noticed he did for you often.
When you reached the top of a hill, you had a good vantage point of both the school and the skyline. It felt like a nice place to sit down and appreciate everything. The weather was nice and the sun was setting lower in the sky, creating a beautiful pinkish-orange. Plus, your company made it even more refreshing. The two of you didn't even need quiet conversation, you could enjoy the silence and occasional sounds of the surrounding town.
You shut your eyes and laid back, breathing in the fresh air and clearing your mind. Schoolwork, manager duties, chores, and anything else didn't need to matter to you in that moment. When you opened your eyes again, you caught Kei staring at you. To your surprise, he didn't look away. You smiled and faced him, feeling your heart beat faster with the presence of his intense stare.
Feeling bold, you did something that was probably arguably extremely strange with a guy you weren't dating (and didn't have concrete evidence that he liked you). You opened your arms, clearly gesturing for a hug. Looking back, it was super embarrassing. To your shock, he stood up and then basically collapsed on you (it was with a little more care than a total collapse, but you were being dramatic). His head made its way to your chest, and you were sure he could hear your heart beating so fast it might explode.
Your hands made their way up to his hair and ran through the short locks. Without even realizing it, you were essentially giving him a head massage. You were about to apologize when he readjusted so that you could continue. The grin on your face only expanded, and you felt like you finally understood what true happiness was.
"Your heart is beating quickly" he lowly hummed, "calm down". Your entire body vibrated, and you felt chills. His voice was unsettlingly deep from not talking.
"I'm sorry" you said, for what reason you didn't know. What were you even apologizing for?
He only laughed at your pointless apology, bringing a hand up to grab one of yours and to intertwine your fingers. Scratch that, now your heart was definitely beating much faster than before and would probably annoy him, but you didn't care. It was so nice to just be in the moment that you didn't mind if he commented on it, he clearly wasn't going to get up. You tightened your grip around him and closed your eyes, smiling sweetly and filled with pure bliss.
The sun had long since set when the two of you finally stood back up. You gave him a smile and he smiled back at you, it was beautiful and bright and filled you with joy. He was warm, contrasting with the coolness of the night air around you. His arms around your waist and his chin on your head both produced featherlight sensations that turned your skin to fire. If you would die right now, you would die happy.
You couldn't help but notice how high in the sky the moon was when the two of you finally went back. Gorgeous, glowing, and full.
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei#yamaguchi#hq yachi#kiyoko shimizu#training camp#bokuto koutarou#kuroo tetsurou
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Sorry for the first ask, I meant to say Sceo + Werewolf Abilities + Lacrosse, please <3
Thanks for the prompt!
“Why are you here?”
Theo frowns and slams himself beside Malia just because it will piss her off. He swears Scott gives him a look right then. But then his face breaks out in that stupid goofy grin, and he waves.
“Ohhh.” Malia nudges him with her elbow.
“Whatever. Like you aren’t here to watch Kira.”
“Duh. She’s hot in lacrosse pads.”
Theo shrugs and steals a handful of Malia’s popcorn. She growls but doesn’t show any teeth, so he takes another handful before leaning back on the bleachers to watch as Scott rallies the team around him.
“He’s a good captain,” Theo says after he’s finished chewing.
“I guess. I never really got this game. But I like it when Kira knocks guys over.”
Theo’s read a few rulebooks and several books on strategy. He likes it when Scott talks to him about lacrosse. It’s like the weight he usually wears on his shoulders melts away when starts talking about the team’s current offensive initiatives.
He likes the look of surprise and delight on Scott’s face when he has something meaningful to contribute to the conversation.
Watching the game is boring.
He’d watch Scott forever.
Theo keeps his eyes trained on him as he runs down the field. He pauses and passes the ball to an attacker Theo doesn’t know by name. She shoots and scores and the crowd hollers their appreciation.
“Not the type to cheer for your man?”
“Are you?”
Malia laughs and throws a handful of popcorn at his face.
Theo dodges it easily. Scott glances at him with a smile and Theo waves, unable to keep a matching smile off his face.
“You are so far gone,” Malia announces handing him her paper cup filled with some kind of soda.
Theo drinks, wondering just when his life became the kind where he has friends that he shares food with. Or the kind where he jumps to his feet and cheers when his boyfriend scores a goal.
-
Waiting in the hallway, alone, listening in on the locker room is a lot more like the life Theo’s always known.
He latches onto Scott’s voice giving a speech about teamwork. He doesn’t pay too much attention to the words but enjoys the cadence of Scott’s soft voice.
Theo waits until the team finishes trickling out of the locker room to step inside.
Scott sits on the bench, towel wrapped around his hips, staring at the locker in front of him.
“You don’t seem like a man that just won the semi-final of the tri-college tournament.”
Scott runs a hand through his hair. “Hey.”
His smile when he looks at Theo is laced with sadness. Nothing like the bright grin he’d had on the field.
“What’s wrong?”
Scott shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I just sometimes feel like I’m cheating, you know?”
Theo blinks. “Cheating how?”
“I mean, the enhanced reflexes, speed, strength, the whole werewolf power set.”
“Oh. Well I suppose I’ll join the team next year, then.”
Scott stares at him. “What?”
“I mean, if all you need is werewolf powers to play this game, I’ve got that, more or less. Malia, too.”
Scott sighs. “You’re being ridiculous. You know what I mean.”
Theo slides onto the bench, inches away from Scott. Scott doesn’t even tense. Not a hint of fear.
“Fine. When you had asthma, were the players who didn’t cheating because they could run down the field faster?”
“What? No…”
“Exactly. They had advantage. And of course, they used it. Who doesn’t use every advantage they have?”
Even as he says it, Theo knows the answer.
Scott looks at his hands, bunched up in the white cloth of his towels. Damp curls fall across his forehead. Theo longs to brush them away.
“When I.. Before, I always thought that if I worked hard enough, I could be great, even at lacrosse. But I never would have played in high school if it hadn’t been for… for this.”
He lifts his right hand and unsheathes his claws.
“There’s no way to know if that’s true. Maybe you could have. I don’t think it’s being a werewolf that gives you the stubborn streak that makes the impossible possible.”
Scott flicks his claws away and smiles his sad smile again. “Maybe not.”
“Being a werewolf had nothing to do with your sappy team work speech,” Theo points out.
Scott’s smile slides past sad into something more playful. “I bet you a kiss you couldn’t repeat a single sentence from that speech.”
Theo matches his smile and leans into to brush their lips together.
“You’re right,” he whispers, “but unlike you, I don’t care about cheating.”
Request a fic
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37. lovers’ tangle, snakeskin boots, and a spilled candle
PREVIOUSLY: Kat thinks Mark’s been acting strange since coming back but she chucks it off to jetlag and touring induced exhaustion; she rallies some people to go see Pet Semetary together and gets roped into chaperoning Lizzy and Jerry’s date before that, along with Sean, who’s anything but thrilled to be there; the lovebirds in question, in the meantime, are continuing to hold off on unsupervised dating but that doesn’t extinguish any of the sparks and chemistry between them; Mudhoney play their first show since coming back to Seattle and the ambience seems to sufficiently change Lizzy and Jerry’s minds about keeping their physical distance after all.
I’ve been feeling like a damn teenager lately and I really need to get a grip. Thing is, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lizzy the whole day today, basically counting down hours and minutes until I’d see her. She drives me fuckin’ crazy, just the thought of her… Hell, we haven’t even kissed! Isn’t that fuckin’ ridiculous? I did tell her I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about her and I know it’s the corniest shit you could think of but I really meant it.
I splash some water on my face and as I’m straightening back up from the sink, a guy pokes his head into the restroom and tosses what looks like a used condom into a bin next to me. Ah, the undying romance of these places… Actually, funnily enough, Mark has been introducing every song tonight with some weird preamble about love and it’s obviously doing something to the crowd.
And I can’t really fully exclude myself…although I’m not sure if the credit should go to Mark here… Honestly, all I’ve been thinking about since I got here is how much I do want to kiss Lizzy. Which, of course, I’m not going to! We agreed not to do anything until I see Dee. And that’s in a week’s time. This is clearly important to Lizzy and I guess I can see where she’s coming from. Just as much as she doesn’t want to start anything with a guy who’s potentially not over his ex, I don’t want to seem like I rush into relationships recklessly and randomly. So no kissing tonight.
I stare at my reflection in the dirty, fractured mirror for a minute longer after drying my face with a paper towel and finally come back out of the restroom. I sit back down on my stool right as Mudhoney are starting…an actual love song, by the sound of it? Expect the unexpected, I guess… Both Lizzy and I exchange thoroughly amused grins and then I launch into a little impromptu dance, which makes her laugh even more.
“I didn’t know you’re such a great dancer,” she beams up at me.
“I’m a man of many, many talents, Liz.” And I’ll tell you all about them sometime later…
I sit back down and pull her closer, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. The sweet flowery, peachy smell of her hair fills my lungs and I think that even if I can’t kiss her tonight, I’m still feelin’ pretty damn happy. She starts humming along to the song, making up a melody that weaves in and out of the dirty, crackly chords. I love how this girl just knows music, she just feels it, understands it inside out. When she sings and hums, it comes out so effortlessly and perfectly. It’s just like talking for the rest of us.
I press a quick peck to her hair at that thought and feel her instantly tense up just a little. I lift my face, intending to apologize for that misstep, but I’m met with her sexy brown eyes and then…then she kisses me! And there’s no convincing required on my part; I bring my hand to cup her face and use the other to pull her closer as I deepen the kiss.
“Wow, Lizzy…” I look at her, quite literally speechless, when we pull apart after very long, very lovely couple of minutes. “I’ve been dying to do that for a while now,” I stroke her cheek with my thumb .
“Me too, actually,” she purrs, just inches away from my face; still so close that I can feel her breath on my lips…and then we kiss again…and then some more… and we kiss the rest of the night away, and it makes me feel like I’m on fuckin’ drugs, and I never wanna stop.
“Oh, hey, Lizzy,” a familiar nasal voice reaches my ears and does it very efficiently, seeing as Stone is standing inches away from us.
Lizzy and I both automatically pull apart just enough to tilt our heads to look at the guy, just to make sure that he’s really there, that we didn’t just imagine him, in which case we could move on and carry on. He is, however, actually there. “Hey,” I lean back some more and bob my head once at him, wondering if I’m smiling too much and what the social etiquette here is exactly. I can’t really feel my lips though so I wouldn’t know if I was.
“Hey, Stone,” Lizzy giggles.
“Hi, Jerry,” he shuffles his usual wide stare to me. Sometimes it’s really hard to tell if Stone’s a walking, breathing genius or if it’s just an empty vacuum behind those eyes… “Kat’s looking for you, Lizzy. She’s trying to go home.”
“Eva doesn’t want to stay longer?” Lizzy inquires sweetly and I, in the meantime, let my eyes roam over her face, down the bridge of her nose, across her skin of softest satin, along her luscious lips, her long, deep-black eyelashes…
“Eva’s not here. I think she’s having a mental breakdown at home or something. Not enough hours in the day, something along those lines,” the doofus continues to converse casually as if he didn’t just interrupt anything. “You’re going back with Mudsellouts.”
“They’re leaving already?” I voice my wonder.
“What do you mean, already?” Stone snorts a laugh. “It’s three a.m.. Lukin already puked all over the urinals.”
Three!?? Swear to God, I would have guessed it’s only been thirty minutes tops since they stopped playing. I guess it is true, what they say about time being relative…
“Wait…so Matt’s driving?” Lizzy’s expression suddenly plunges into a deeply worried frown.
“Obviously not, don’t be ridiculous. Mark is.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better!?”
“It should because apparently, he didn’t have any alcohol tonight. Between you and me though, he’s been acting real fuckin’ weird lately so he might be on something else entirely.”
“Stone!” Lizzy smacks his arm and tries to give him a dirty look but laughs instead.
“I can take you home,” I remember that I can also participate in this conversation instead of just watching Lizzy.
“They’re literally all in the van, like, right now, just waiting for Lizzy,” Stone continues to be the world’s worst wingman.
“You can spend the night at my place,” I blurt out blankly and stupidly as I look at Lizzy.
“No…” She sighs. “I should really get home tonight. But I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She looks at me in a way that makes me feel like she can see right into my soul. Really though, three o’clock??
“Definitely,” I say and lean forward, intending to kiss her, while Stone just…continues to stand there. “I’ll walk you out,” I tell her instead and get up from my seat.
Lizzy and I start walking towards the exit and Stone falls into step right next to us. I give him a mildly bewildered look and his eyebrows dip slightly and…nothing. I shoot him a more obviously confused look and he finally catches on.
“Oh, I’m getting a ride with them,” he nods his head at Lizzy. God damn it, Stone, you fuckin’ weirdo.
I walk Lizzy and Stone out to the parking lot, although I thankfully only kiss one of them goodnight. Turns out, Lizzy doesn’t care about PDA’s, as she sprinkles a healthy pinch of sugar on me right in front of a van full of her friends.
After the Mudhoney ride rattles off into the night, leaving a trace of wolf whistles and drunken laughter, I shuffle my way back inside the venue and head for the bar. If I know my friends at all, that’s where I’ll find them. Although I’m in no rush to see them, or anyone. I might need a moment to process. And to savor.
“Hey there, stud,” Sean’s voice reaches me like a missile. Yeah, I knew it. Him, Layne, Demri, Mike, and a couple other people we know are all draped along the bar counter in some strange, dirty and drugged up rendition of The Last Supper.
“How’re y’all doing?” I drawl, possibly because I still haven’t fully regained feeling in my lips.
“Not as good as you, clearly,” Demri cackles and Layne shoots her a supposedly dirty look along with a dignified ‘hey!’. “Oh, Layne, don’t you remember how amazing and magical the world was when we first got together? Don’t you remember what young love is like?” She flutters her eyelashes at him.
“And what are we now, an old married couple?”
“Still not getting any tonight then?” Sean adjusts on his barstool, turning to me and leaving the couple to their Shakespearean quarrel.
“How do you ever get anyone to go out with you…” I respond with a slow, over-the-top shake of my head.
“I have good hair,” he shrugs. “What do you see in her, anyway?”
“What do you mean, what do I see in her?” My expression of confusion and annoyance edging in is totally genuine now.
“I dunno. She’s…kind of a Olivia Newton-John and you’re definitely a John Travolta.”
“What?” I laugh out incredulously.
“She’s kind of a square.”
“A square?” My tone stays incredulous.
“Uh-huh. She’s probably just in her bad boy phase right now.”
“What the fuck, Sean,” this time he gets a laugh out of me. “What does that even mean?? She’s done coke in Spain, for your information.”
“Oh well then never mind,” he pops his eyes at me as we both laugh. When can I see her next? What’s tomorrow… Saturday. Shit, I work tomorrow… Lizzy doesn’t though. I can drop by her place after work. Is that weird though? Should I just call her? Nah, I don’t wanna call her, I wanna see her. But is th—
“EARTH TO JERRY!”
“Huh?” I flinch back into reality, in which all of my friends are looking at me, yelling and laughing.
* * *
1 year and 2 months earlier
1988 March 12th
“Remember me?” A girl with perfectly messy ashy blonde hair leans into my side in a world's gentlest nudge and then steps back with her hands on her hips and a big smile on her face. Hm, let's see: I ran into her three nights ago at a show (something that's been happening increasingly more often), she came back to my place (a first one), we had sex, then in the morning she ran out the door unprompted, saying something about an accounting meeting she had with a client (after previously telling me that she was a cosmetologist) and somehow looking even better than she had the night before. Yeah... I've been remembering for the past three days, what an odd question to ask.
“Kelly, right?” I grin at her.
“Asshole,” she narrows her eyes, her smile unfading.
“Asshole? I could have sworn it started with a K.”
Despite the lightning bolts in her eyes, she leans in for a kiss, and as she pulls away, her hand lingers on my freshly shaven chin. “I left my scrunchie at your place.”
“Ah well, it’s lost forever now. Matt will have already used it for some nasty sexual game with himself.”
“I’ll come over to look, just in case.”
“Careful though, my live-in girlfriend might see you and stab me in the night.”
“Live-in girlfriend?” Kristine throws her head back in laughter. “Are you referring to your band mate? Because no sane woman would ever live there.”
“Hey,” I try to give her a dirty look but crumple into a chuckle. “It looks a lot nicer when he’s not crashing there, okay.”
“So what happened to your last girlfriend anyway?” The nonchalance is palpable in her voice.
“She couldn’t take it anymore. Gauged her own eyes out and joined a travelling freak show as a Bearded Lady.”
“Can this be your one question you answer seriously today?”
Interesting question for a Saturday night but alright. I take a sip of my lukewarm beer and shrug. “She didn’t see the relationship going anywhere, she said. Come to think of it, we didn’t really see each other that much towards the end. Clashing schedules,” I pull my mouth into a toothy smile, hoping the answer will suffice. I mean, it’s true. There was nothing dramatic or explosive about the end of my relationship with the last girl I dated. She just kind of got bored, I guess. “I think she might’ve said I lacked ambition at one point or another,” I add as the memory surfaces.
“Hm,” is all Kristine says.
“Now you go! Where did you hide your ex’s body?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, Mark,” she flashes me a charming smile.
“Hello, fellow bar goers,” Kim Thayil shows up from the crowd with Buzz in tow. For some odd reason, their appearance makes me become aggressively aware of how close to me Kristine is.
“Is Matt around?” Buzz inquires.
“I’m sure he is,” I say since last I saw him was about two hours ago.
“I’m Kristine, by the way,” she says unnecessarily loudly and we all turn our heads to look at her.
“Good to know,” Buzz delivers flatly.
“Kim. That’s Buzz,” Thayil steps in with his clearly superior social skills. “What’s with the music?” He then points a finger at the ceiling. “Did you request it, Mark?”
“I love this song,” Kristine states boldly and I'm glad she did it first because I was about to make a different comment on it.
“You're kidding, right?” Buzz voices my concern, narrowing his eyes at her. “What's there to like about this piece of garbage?”
“Piece of garbage? Paula Abdul has a great voice, but I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that.”
“Ooh, what a sharp comeback. However will I get over it.”
“Mark?” She looks at me now, with some kind of a pointed look.
“What?”
Her eyes linger on me for a moment before she click her tongue and looks away. “Nothing. I'm bored.”
“You want a beer?” I offer her mine that's only half full by now.
“Yeah. How about a fresh one?” She arches her eyebrows and I assume she is hinting at me buying the said fresh beer for her. Okay then, I guess I'll go do that.
I down the rest of my drink and I elbow my way to the bar counter without too much difficulty. I ask for two of their cheapest beers and as I wait, leaned sideways against the edge of counter, my eyes inadvertently land on a girl some twenty feet away. She’s standing there, eating a donut, completely zoned out, by the looks of it, while her blonde friend is talking at her with animated hand gestures. Somebody bumps into the donut girl’s shoulder, making her red hair slide from behind her ear; she sends a quick glare at the culprit, then slowly unsticks a strand of hair from the donut, and plunges back into that same not-really-there kind of expression.
I come back just in time to hear Kim comment on Kristines boots: “Did you kill the snakes yourself?”
“Is that where the bad music taste is coming from? Bad juju for killing snakes?” Buzz adds, which cracks me up and I almost choke on my beer. “They match the song,” he goes on. Hey now, they're certainly something else but I kinda like them. It's a statement, makes her stand out from a sea of combat boots, I suppose.
* * *
I knock on the door and wait long enough that I’m about to knock again but then I finally hear footsteps on the other side. The lock clicks and the door swings open with a faint creak and I find myself standing in front of Mark Arm. Huh… I know Lizzy jokes about how this place is always full of people who don’t live here, yet I’m still surprised, every time.
“Hey, Mark.”
“Jerry, howdy. Heard you enjoyed the setlist last night,” he pulls his abnormally large mouth into a grin and steps aside to let me in. “Always good to get positive feedback from fellow dirty musicians.”
“Uh… Yeah,” I unwittingly mirror his expression. “And I heard you guys have a new rehearsal space and a career in the U.K.?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say we’re on the international highway to stardom,” he says and then just looks at me with that huge smile.
“Oh.” Eva appears in the doorway of her bedroom with a blank stare on her face. “Hi, Jerry,” she briefly lifts her hand. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, not too bad—”
“What’s up,” Matt Lukin appears in the bathroom doorway. Of course. This place really is always full of random people.
“Hey man,” I greet him as he walks over to the fridge. “So uh… Is Lizzy home?” I…did not intent to sound like a teenager talking to my sweetheart’s parents that much.
“Yeah,” Mark answers, still with that same grin. “I think she’s in her room. Do you want me to fetch her?”
“No,” I answer maybe a touch more vigorously than needed. I’m just not a hundred percent sure that he’s joking. “I know which room is hers,” I assure him as I cross the living room.
I knock on the closed bedroom door a couple of times and hear an instant ‘come in!’. “Hey, it’s Jerry,” I speak into the door crack without moving and then the door flies open, creating a wind tunnel almost strong enough to swoop me into her bedroom, or so it feels…
She’s wearing a silk scarf on her head and a fluffy robe wrapped up around her and I love that she doesn’t care about me seeing her like that. I mean, she shouldn’t, she’s gorgeous! And I really like that she seems to know that, too.
“I was actually just trying to call you,” she quickly lifts up her hand holding the telephone.
“Oh yeah?” I can’t help but grin, ear to ear. “Were you calling to ask me out?”
Lizzy breathes out that melodious laugh that makes my head spin as I close the door behind me. And all of a sudden, it’s quiet.
“So—”
“How’s—”
We both start and both interrupt each other.
“I didn’t even know if you’d be home, I was just…” Lizzy starts again while frantically trying to untangle her foot from the telephone cord.
“Yeah, I actually just came here…straight from work. I knew you’re not working today, so… I hope it’s not weird?”
“N-no, no…”
“You sure? I can leave.”
“You wanna leave?”
“It’s fine, no worries…” I turn my body back towards the bedroom door. What the fuck is going on here?! Like a goddamn teenager…
“No!” Lizzy stops me with a thud of setting the telephone down. “I mean,” she chuckles, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“No?” I feel a smile stretch across my lips and my legs finally seem to remember how to move and bring me a couple of steps closer to Lizzy.
“Nah.”
“What do you wanna do then?” I smirk down at her.
“Uh… We should talk!”
“Talk??”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
“About Dee.”
“What?!” I ask with an incredulous frown, in an embarrassingly high pitched voice.
“I mean, about how we said we wouldn’t do anything until after you saw her,” Lizzy corrects herself.
“Right,” I slump down to sit on the side of her bed. “Right, yeah. We should talk about that.” Right? I mean, I don’t really have much to say about it but it’s only fair, I guess.
“I just want you to know that I don’t regret it,” she sits down next to me.
“Glad to hear. Feels like there’s a ‘but’ coming though…”
“But… I also want you to know that I don’t normally act like that… I wasn’t asking to not do anything until after you saw Dee just to mess with you, you know?”
“I know, Lizzy. I know you don’t toy with people like that, trust me,” I give her a reassuring smile. How is this girl so sweet and gentle and caring, and how did I get so lucky??
“Good. It’s just that…you kissed me and I lost my damn mind!” She laughs out.
“Wait,” I pull my lips into an amused grin. “You mean, you kissed me.”
“What? Jerry! You kissed me first!”
“Nah, I distinctly remember reciprocating your kiss,” I lower my eyelids halfway as I watch the gentlest blush tint her cheeks.
“I would never do that!” She protests.
“You would never kiss me?”
“That’s not what I meant, Jer!” She laughs.
“We’ll have time to figure out what to tell our great-grandchildren later,” I assure her as I lean in and kiss her, because I can’t resist any longer.
“So you’ll see her on Friday?” Lizzy places her hand on my chest a minute later and gently nudges me.
“Who?”
“Dee.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Friday,” I laugh at myself.
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Yeah, where will you meet up?” The girl just won’t drop the topic.
“I haven’t really thought about that. How about on a street corner?” I lean in and kiss her again but a moment later, she pulls away again.
“A coffee shop? Maybe Raison?”
“Are you gonna have Eva spy on me?” I smirk at Lizzy and she quickly denies it with a laugh.
I should be thinking about this more than I am, shouldn’t I? I think it’s gonna hit me right before I see her though; that’s it’s all over and that that’s gonna be the end of our communication really. I mean, it has been over for some time. But seeing Dee in person will completely solidify it and then she’ll go back to Colorado so we won’t be running into each other on the street, and we won’t call each other again. It’s like the opposite of a first date – it’s the last one, in which we discuss our breakup and move on from there. It’s fucking weird is what it is, but I have a feeling I’ll be able to appreciate it later. Closure is important, after all.
“I hope it goes well,” Lizzy says.
“I’m sure it will be fine. She’s not the kind of girl to show up with a gun or a cyanide pill,” I assure her and go in for another kiss, yet again, and this time it seems like her mind’s been appeased some, and she melts into me.
“Hey! Oh! Sorry!” Another person who does not live here rips Lizzy’s bedroom door open and then freezes with a horrified expression on her face. “They didn’t tell me you had anyone over,” she glares at somebody outside the door frame.
“Those guys are such assholes…” Lizzy mumbles. “We were just talking…” She adds an obviously false explanation while her friend’s expression softens into a smirk. “Have you met Nadia, Jerry?”
“Hi, Nadia,” I give her a defeated wave of my hand, unable to keep from chuckling.
* * *
Buzz’s truck screeches to a halt, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. I climb out and while I’m saying bye to him and Lukin in the passenger seat, I notice a familiar blurry redhead in the distance, bobbing up and down as she’s marching down the sidewalk.
“Alright, see ya, Mark,” Buzz gives me a brief wave of his hand before they speed off and I start slowly shuffling towards the entrance to the apartment building.
God, I hate how excited I am to see her. Like a fucking puppy dog. Maybe I could stand to see her less, somehow… Within reason – I can’t do anything about the fact that we use the same laundry room and go to the same shows. But I guess I don’t have to hang out in her apartment so much. Just until this brain fog passes.
“Oh, hi, you…” She somehow only notices me when she’s about two feet away. What a lunatic.
“What’s up?” I inspect the obviously annoyed crease between her eyebrows.
“Not much.” She goes inside and up the stairs and I fall into step next to her.
“What’s wrong?” I rephrase politely.
“Not necessarily wrong, just that I haven’t felt this fucking dumb in a pretty long while now,” she keeps her eyes glued to the stairs, her words steeped in exasperation she’s failing to hold back. Funny you should say that since that’s how I feel anytime I exist around you lately but anyway.
“How come?”
“I had that bookseller interview…”
“Oh. And?”
“They had this stupid fucking quiz at the end of the group interview… And don’t even get me started on group interviews,” she draws a circle of impressive proportions with a roll of her eyes; I guess she’s already forgotten about trying not to sound upset. “The quiz had three parts and… I mean, Edward Abbey? Who the fuck cares about Edward Abbey!?” She raises her voice slightly and I give her an animated shrug, trying not to look too amused. “And how is a quiz with thirty questions relevant at all?? I studied postcolonial literature and graphic novels, how about they ask me about that!? I mean…I read!” She stares at me as we reach the top floor and I nod quickly. “I’m sure I’ve read books that these snobs haven’t. What if I gave them a quiz like that??”
“Uh…”
“I just feel like a fraud…”
“Novak, pull yourself together.”
“Just let me be dramatic in peace,” she sighs out and leads the way into her apartment and at this point, I feel like it would be really rude of me to just go to my own place.
“Gladly. I promise not to interrupt the rest of the one woman drama.”
“Woman? Feeling generous today, I see,” she eyes me dubiously right before shifting her manic stare over to Lizzy crouched down on the couch, scratching at it with her nails?.. “What’s going on?” Kat voices my exact thought.
“I spilled some melted wax on the couch…” Lizzy grumbles with a heartfelt sigh and Kat steps over to investigate.
“How did this happen!?”
“I was trying to blow the candle out…”
“Dude,” Kat breathes out impatiently, “you know that you need to put something underneath candles to catch the wax. Come on, this isn’t the first or even the fifth time that’s happened!”
“I’m sorry, Kat, I’ll clean it up…” Lizzy’s compliant tone tells me these kinds of scoldings are not completely out of the norm.
“It’s not hard to just not keep doing it, you know,” Kat goes on regardless. Poor Lizzy really happened to be in the wrong place and at the wrong time, huh?
“Wait for it to harden, it’ll be much easier,” I tell her. “Put something cold on it.”
“It’s going to leave a grease stain on the couch now anyway,” Kat mumbles while kicking her shoes off.
“I’ll clean that too, I have something for that.”
“You’re just spreading it around with your fingers, Lizzy!”
“Novak,” I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her around, away from me, “you and I both know you’re gonna look up all the books from that quiz so how about you go find your library card?” I direct her towards her room because I’m afraid that if I don’t, I’ll become an accessory to a murder – she’ll keep taking her anger over that stupid job out on Lizzy and Lizzy will never stand up to her because she seems to think that the best tactic is to just let the beast keep chewing her.
“Thanks,” Lizzy glances at me with a sour look after I close Kat’s bedroom door. “I don’t understand why she always has to be like that. It’s just some wax. And besides, I already spilled it. It’s not like I’ll unspill it if she just yells at me some…”
“Why don’t you just say that to her?” I ask as I walk over to the freezer and pull out an ice cube tray.
“You ever tried arguing with that girl?” Lizzy says with a shadow of a smile now as I hover the frozen tray above the wax splatter to harden it.
I have and it’s one of my favorite pastime activities. A sport, really. “Fair point. She’s in a bad mood, she just got rejected from that bookseller’s job. I think so, anyway…”
“Oh… See! Why can’t she just say that when she gets home? Then we can bitch about it together or something… Instead, she just takes it out on the first person she runs into.”
Technically, the second person. I somehow escaped unscathed. Uh but that is neither here, nor there, really.
The apartment door flies open and in comes Gwen. “Open the champagne,” she throws her coat on the couch, “first day as an intern at the Mexican embassy has been conquered!” She announces to the room, completely mismatching the mood. That explains the skirt suit though.
“How was it?” Lizzy tries to act like she wasn’t just verbally assaulted by an angry stray cat.
Gwen’s face grows more serious before she opens her mouth, evidently still figuring out her response. “It was great but I will say, there’s…slight sexist undertones…just…everywhere, really. It’s bizarre. Just these little things, little words, little looks…”
“I feel like that should be alarming, considering you’re transitioning from one of Seattle’s shittier bars…” I point out.
“Yeah…” Gwen just stares at – or right through – me for another thoughtful second. “It was good though. And now that I’m there, things will get even better,” she cackles, which I will not question. “We’ll need to go out on Friday to celebrate!”
“Jerry’s meeting up with his ex on Friday—”
“Great, so you’re free! It’s a plan then! You know,” Gwen walks over to the kitchen area, “the stench of sexual tension between you two was getting out of hand. I’m glad we can all stop smelling that,” she laughs while Kat walks out of her bedroom, the same sour expression sticking to her face. She throws a quick ‘hey’ to Gwen and makes a beeline for the bathroom. “What kind of wasp flew up her ass?” Gwen eyes the door that just swung shut.
“Is it wrong that I kinda want her to punch me in the face? Did I just say that out loud? I’m gonna see myself out…” I tip my imaginary hat as I speed walk out the door. I should really go home and think about my life choices while I’m at it.
* * *
“So Jerry and Lizzy are finally done beating around the bush, huh?” Jeff wiggles his eyebrows with a stupid grin as soon as I walk into the coffee shop.
“Huh? How do you know??”
“I don’t know why you’re still surprised that rumors take literally zero time to spread like a wildfire around here. Especially considering that a whole bar full of people saw them last night.”
“Oh, yeah…” I scrunch my eyebrows momentarily, feeling mild annoyance simmer in the pit of my stomach. Not even sure why… I just—I feel like lately, I’m annoyed at the very thought of people having fun and enjoying themselves. Probably because all I do is, well, things I need to do. Things I’ve committed to doing.
“Hey, did you close last night?”
“Yeah,” I mumble as I disappear in the back room and when I come back wearing an apron, Jeff squints over at me from the espresso machine.
“Are you okay?” He asks after a moment.
“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” I slip into customer service autopilot mode.
“I don’t know, you seem off.”
“Someone at the lab fucked up and contaminated all my tadpoles,” I sigh out through gritted teeth. My colleague somehow accidentally used my tadpoles that I’d been carefully monitoring for weeks, causing all my work to go to waste. I don’t understand how, considering that everything, every damn dust bunny in the lab is labelled. I guess some of us missed some stuff in first grade…ugh. I wish I didn’t have to work here today because I really just wanted to stay at the lab for however long it took me to sort all that mess out. Unfortunately, here I am.
“Ah, that sucks.”
“Yeah…” I lean my hips against the edge of the sink as I wash my hands. “And now I get to be here the whole afternoon.” Ugh.
“That’s the spirit,” he laughs, then places a coffee cup he’d just filled with hot liquid on the counter, and calls a Dean. “Hey, just so you know, you left the café unlocked last night,” he returns his attention to me. I remember when I first started working here eight months ago – this kind of information would have been communicated with a pissy pout and folded arms. Now, Jeff’s looking at me like it’s the most boring piece of information that he just needed to communicate. Woah…I can’t believe I’ve worked here for eight months now…
“I definitely didn’t,” I correct him with a slight frown. I know I locked the door, I’m a hundred percent sure.
“Well, it was unlocked this morning so unless somebody broke in just to play a prank on us, you were the last person here before I came in.”
“Maybe you unlocked it yourself and then forgot,” I offer with a half assed shrug and he opens his mouth to say something else but a customer comes up to the counter.
I take the order, Jeff makes it, and once the lady’s been sent on her way with three extra hot cappuccinos, Jeff turns to me again. “That makes no sense, how would I unlock it and forget about it within seconds??”
“I don’t know, Jeff. I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours.”
“Idiot,” he laughs. “I won’t give you shit about it but hopefully it doesn’t happen again.”
Wait a second… I just told him I locked it but he’s still gonna go ahead and act all high and mighty? “Very gracious of you, to not give me shit for something I didn’t do.”
“It’s whatever, Eva. Nothing happened so it’s not a huge deal.”
I swear, I’m gonna stab somebody in the face one of these days… What’s even worse than Jeff being dumb and probably unlocking the door himself and forgetting, is that he seems unable to keep from making jokes about it the whole hour that our shifts overlap. And I’m really not in the mood to argue about it, or even acknowledge him, really. I’ve been so tired and so stressed lately, I’m finally really learning the meaning of picking your battles.
“Are you coming to the park this Saturday?” Jeff asks me while untying his apron. Finally, the asshat’s about to head out and leave me the fuck alone.
“Probably.”
“You didn’t miss much last week, other than Stone having to fill in for you. That was pretty hilarious, actually. He can barely lift the ball,” Jeff laughs at his own joke. Ugh.
“Yeah, I decided to do something more productive and take a nap instead.”
“Just let someone know next time, alright,” he says before disappearing in the back room.
I miss one stupid afternoon of playing stupid basketball with a bunch of idiots and now he’s gonna lecture me about that too? UGH.
“Hey,” our manager practically storms into the café and walks behind the counter. “Did you happen to see if I left my wallet here last night?”
“You were here last night?”
“Yeah, like late last night. I was just dropping off the sugar. Aha!” He spots his wallet on a little shelf next to a big tub of sugar.
“I think you left the café unlocked.”
“Oh shit! Did I really?”
“According to Jeff. You might need to apologize because he can’t seem to let it go.”
“Tell him I said sorry,” he throws me a goofy smile as he runs out the door.
Just then, Jeff comes out from the back, his jacket on and his bag swung over the shoulder. “You all good here? I’m gonna head out.”
“John was just in,” I inform him. “He left his wallet here last night.”
“Oh yeah?” Jeff asks distractedly.
“Yeah, he was here last night after I closed. So if the door was actually left unlocked, which I’m still not convinced that you didn’t unlock it and forget about it…”
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I’m not that dumb. Give me some credit.” Not so sure about that, but whatever.
“It was John who left it unlocked then. There, mystery solved.”
“Huh… Weird. Oh well. I’ll catch ya later,” he waves at me briefly and walks out, and I’m just left there, staring at the spot where he just was. Catch ya later??A ‘sorry for being a dick to you for the last hour’ would have been nice, you fucking jackass. Ugh.
#surpriseeee lol#fanfiction#seattle#80s#alice in chains#jerry cantrell#sean kinney#layne staley#mudhoney#mark arm#matt lukin#mother love bone#jeff ament
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just here to say that i'm rewatching some pg cougars playoff games and realizing how much fun they are to watch...that powerplay??
my people! i'm going to rant, i made some shitty gifs for visuals, i love this stupid team, i'm so glad you're here too
where do i even start? playoffs were soooo fun especially the pg vs tri city series. they were pretty evenly matched and it could’ve gone either way (seattle sweeping pg was boring, sorry 🙄 definitely didn’t need four games of that haha) pg is sooo underrated as an entertaining team! the powerplay especially 👀 i have a whole folder full of clips from round one so maybe i’ll make a top ten moments post but the last game against tri city was wild. if anyone else is reading this, i'd recommended watching the highlights even if you don't care about the cougars. more about this under the cut
and the powerplay. the powerplay. they deserve a post of their own. probably the most exciting aspect of our team this year. i couldn't come up with a better cast of characters. fun fact: last season wheaty didn't have a single powerplay goal. oh how the tables have turned.
i'm expecting next year's pp line to be ziemmer, heidt, and funk and idk about defense. we'll see who's going to replace samson 😥
a shitty analysis of some highlights of game six 😼
the wiebecroft connection 🥺 and after wiebe gets the ot in game two!! i am going to miss this duo so much. also i need to add wheaty's comment about wiebe in the post-game show (direct quote because i recorded it haha): “that guy’s been finding me all series. it’s about time I put one in for him. yeah, he’s so much fun to play with and I kinda knew when we were streaking two on one that he was going to find me and that’s exactly what he did. i’m just happy i got to repay him for all the times he set me up and i haven’t scored.”
A dynamic duo goal! heidt encouraging fans to wave their rally towels 🥺 and then gets buried by his teammates
dubinsky immediately falls after scoring. brown's not going to not celly, even if he has to pile on top of dubinsky to do so. (also dubinsky sidenote: i'm so glad we had him this season. he's gone through so much injury wise. his final post-game interview after the second series was so sad. he sounded so choked. said he just wanted to make it to playoffs in his juniors career and he finally did! even though he didn't get to play his last game 😥)
watching this move live was crazy. my heart was going through it as brown had a perfect chance, flubbed it, managed to pass it to o'brien. the hometown connection!! this was perfect!
"chase wheatcroft sends the cougars to the second round for the first time in sixteen years!"
how can you not love them 🥲 (heidt trying to jump into the celly and falling is very on brand)
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Make the season bright
deancas post-12x07 au, fluff and angst, mutual pining. Season's Greetings, y'all! 🎄
(first posted to ao3 December 2021 but I never really put it here, so. I'm putting it here now 😊)
-
22 December
"Orders must be in today to guarantee local delivery by Christmas!!!" the email subject line said, with its three exclamation point emphasis.
Dean sat bolt upright in bed and squinted at the phone screen some more. If today was December 22nd, and he had no reason to think his phone had been hacked to display a false date, that meant Christmas was three days away. Less than three. Two and change, the day racing into the lower half of an hourglass like a storm scouring everything in its path with sand.
He fled his room and skidded down the hall so quickly he managed to rake his ankle against the doorjamb and yelped to announce his presence.
"Dean," Cas said, eyes big as gumdrops. "What's wrong?"
"Ouch." Dean grabbed up his mangled foot before realizing he was going to tip over in the process, and caught himself on Cas's doorknob. "You're still here."
Still here still here still here. Hi, Cas.
Cas stopped folding a towel. "Yes?"
He'd arrived a week ago. The fervency with which Dean wanted him to stay -- forever, whispered the voice in Dean's head -- was in direct contrast to Dean's ability to discuss this for even one-tenth of a second.
"Just. Good." Dean put his foot on the floor and looked at Cas standing there in Sam's old sweatpants (cut off at the cuffs) and one of Dean's better old hoodies (blue a shade darker than Cas's irises) and nearly let an avalanche tumble out of his mouth.
One calamitous weather metaphor after another, Dean thought. That's me.
He cleared his throat. "It's good you're still here because I forgot to tell you happy solstice yesterday. And." His voice cracked a bit. The bunker air was so dry in wintertime.
He tried again. "Christmas is this Sunday."
"Oh." Cas placed the towel on a stack of towels. "Sam thought maybe you weren't doing that this year."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "You guys talked about it?"
Cas seemed to sense a need for diplomacy. "He wasn't upset at the prospect you were going to skip it."
Dean winced, flexing his foot. "He wouldn't be."
"But you don't want to to skip it." Cas smiled, looking down at the bed.
"Of course not." Dean rallied his sanity. "Christmas comes but once a year, the most wonderful time of the year, even, ho ho ho and mistletoe, and all that."
Crap. He hadn't meant to mention mistletoe and would not be referencing it twice.
"What would celebrating Christmas entail?" Cas asked, with what sounded like a promising amount of genuine curiosity.
"Whole lotta festive food, for starters," Dean said. "Maybe a tree? Exchanging presents." He thought about it. "Spiked punch. Or mulled cider, or something." He replayed what Cas had said in his mind. "And you're family, so. You get to set some traditions too."
"Oh," Cas said. His cheeks went a little pink. "I don't… The impression Sam gave me is that you didn't really have many traditions for the holiday."
Dean snorted, to conceal how much he wanted to sidle closer. "Sam has a standing annual engagement as the Grinch, with an understudy gig in Scrooging."
Cas frowned. "Sam seems always ready and willing to be generous about helping people in need--"
"I just meant, he's pretty 'Bah, Humbug' about Christmas," Dean said.
"You might be missing the essence of that novel," Cas said, head tipped like he was about to start an advanced discourse on the nature of social responsibility or the torment of eternal regret, as though those were two themes that hadn't bashed Dean over the head pretty much every waking day of his life.
Dean held up a hand. "Let Sam feel about Christmas however he wants to feel about Christmas. We can be merry with or without his active participation."
He bounced on the balls of his feet for a second and was content enough that his banged-up ankle didn't protest. A cold draft of something close to shyness crept up on him as he watched Cas think.
Another thought pierced through. "If you have someplace you need to be instead, because of Lucifer--"
"No," Cas said. He took a breath and held Dean's look. "Not yet, anyway."
"Well, then," Dean made himself say, like he was a healthy person who just said stuff out loud, "let's go shopping."
-
However, first there was coffee, showering, more coffee, putting away laundry, a bacon sandwich for Dean and a glass of water for Cas. One more cup of coffee.
Dean savored the last bite of crispy pork perfection and hummed to himself.
"What is that?" Cas asked. "You've been humming it for twenty minutes."
"Huh." Dean drank the dregs of his coffee. "I don't know."
Cas cocked his head at him.
"Yeah, that's weird," Dean conceded.
He picked up his phone and dicked around with it until he found the evil so-called assistant that lurked inside it. He hummed as many bars of the chorus as he thought he knew.
The phone displayed Search Results: 87% match.
"Oh god," Dean said in agony.
"What did you find?" Cas sounded terrified for him.
It took all of Dean's strength to inform him, "It's by Perry Como."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cas said, in a voice devoid of actual pity.
"You don't even know who Perry Como is," Dean sniffed.
Cas gave him a narrow look and took a very prim sip of water.
-
In what might have been the seventieth store they entered, the sole employee had the harried air of someone being menaced by vengeful ghosts or a pack of church ladies.
"Ma'am, I don't believe we have anymore of the dessert plates in stock, though we do have four of the soup bowls-- Yes. Yes, I will set those aside. No, the after-Christmas sale starts on Monday--"
After Christmas, Dean thought, passing the store's front desk with a pang of sympathy for the shopkeep who had a pencil sticking out of her hair like she'd stabbed herself in the head on purpose.
"--Will do. Thanks, Darlene." The shopkeep hung up and made a whoosh noise. "I am going to kill one of these uppity dipshits, so help me, Satan," she muttered to no one in particular.
Dean saw Cas flinch out of the corner of his eye.
The shopkeep pasted on a smile that appeared mostly sincere. "May I help you, dear?" she asked Dean.
"I'm just browsing," Dean said. With a gun to his head, he wouldn't trouble this frazzled lady old enough to be his grandmother.
"You were going to--" Cas started, waving from the other side of a curio cabinet.
Dean groaned inwardly. "You don't have any children's books for sale, by any chance?"
The shopkeep -- Sandy, according to her name tag -- perked up. "We do! A few still, anyway."
She came out from behind her desk to send him and Cas toward a back corner. In that booth was a shelf with a decently curated selection of kids' books from the early to mid parts of the twentieth century -- quite a bit before Sam's time, though Dean read through the titles on the worn spines just in case something interesting stood out. In between a grimacing Santa figurine and a jewelry box decorated with plastic holly leaves was a selection of junkier trade paperbacks.
"No luck?" Cas reached past Dean to pick up a yellow stoneware bowl; his hip pressed against Dean's.
Dean froze. He saw the bowl being turned over in Cas's large hands as though in a fugue.
He looked up to see Cas watching him, nothing but patience in his face. "Uh. No, um. I doubt Sam would find any of these--"
In forcing himself to look away from Cas, Dean'd seen something. He moved over and picked out a paperback with a faded green dogeared cover and a very pre-Nickelodeon illustration of two grubby children.
"It's perfect," he said, grinning at Cas.
Cas smiled back, game if confused. "One down," he said, like he was ticking items off a mental checklist. He glanced over his shoulder at a pegboard on the wall behind them. "Do you think Sam would like a hat?"
The slightly lumpy knitted toboggans were clearly homemade and came in an array of colors that could all be described as loud. "He likes to jog before breakfast, you know, like a freak, so probably," Dean said.
Nodding, Cas picked out one that was orange with a green zigzag around the bottom.
"Two down," Dean said. They took their finds to the shopkeep.
As Sandy rang them up, Dean saw Cas look at and look away from and look again at a tabletop tree, one of those faux vintage types with frothy white branches, decorated with golfball sized emerald green and candy apple red glass ornaments. A gold ribbon was threaded throughout, a spindly star tied at the apex. It was not exactly a towering behemoth of a tree, but it was awfully late in the season to go chopping down a balsam or a pine or buying one that was already halfway to kindling.
Oh there's no place like home for the holidays. Damn earworm.
Dean pointed down the aisle. "We'll take that little white tree too."
Sandy beamed at him. "Oh, I'm happy someone's taking it," she said. "It deserves a nice couple to enjoy it."
She scurried to the table to fetch the tree and Dean did not glance at Cas or say anything or even think anything. He was a blank sheet of paper, a bank of newfallen snow. He was fog and dissolving inside a descending fog.
Sandy was smart enough to give the tree to Cas, who took it with polite thanks.
Dean and he probably talked about something on the drive back to the bunker -- the weather, perhaps, which was by now worn-in levels of dreary. The tree was delivered to one of the library tables until Dean could think of a better place for it. Rain water trickling under his collar woke him up more quickly than a smack with a snowball would've. He wondered if he'd parked Baby in the garage or if he'd even turned her off. The bunker had some protective sensoring management thingy, though, didn't it? He and Sam wouldn't die of carbon monoxide poisoning overnight?
"Is there an agenda for tomorrow?" Cas asked, as though he hadn't noticed Dean's brain trying to leave his body and this whole infernal mortal coil through his nostrils.
Dean considered the question. Yes.
After a minute, Cas said, "Dean?" which, Dean guessed, meant Dean hadn't actually said anything.
"Yeah." There went that dry air again. His kingdom for a goddamn humidifier. "Yep. Um. Groceries. And finish up shopping." He drummed his fingers on the library table. "Probably. You. You don't have to get me anything, not at all -- like, I'm set." He refused to answer Cas's frown. "But I will probably need an hour in town. By myself."
Cas stood taller. "That's fine." His tone was as flat as a taupe paint sample.
Dean crashed onto the bed in an hour or two and laid there willing the snowglobe glitter sloshing in his mind to calm the fuck down already. He had almost achieved this as Sam stuck his head in the room.
"Busy day?" Sam said.
Dean jerked hard enough to make the bedframe rattle. "Fuckin'--" He rubbed his eyes. "Where've you been all day?"
Sam stepped inside with one of his aw, shucks attempts to seem short. "Movie. Told you that."
"Hmm. Yeah. What'd you see?"
The words that flowed from Sam's mouth were probably…European. Dean understood 'hallucinations' and 'Münchhausen' before Sam moved on to saying, "And the documentary went into a much more in depth discussion than I'd been expecting of dreams as illustration of quote, unquote, 'the fantastic' in cinema blah blah blah blah."
He had not actually said the blahs; Dean was merely an excellent translator.
"Okay," Dean said. He was reasonably convinced Sam had seen the world's most boring film and wasn't off somewhere plotting something catastrophic behind Dean's back.
If nothing else, Dean had spent the whole day with Sam's most trusted and chaotic collaborator, so.
"You talked to Mom lately?" Dean asked, busily untying his boot shoelaces.
"Ah," Sam said, in a knowing tone. "Yeah, she's hanging in there. Just finished up a case in Nebraska, I think. She's plotting revenge for your last word play, by the way."
"Squeezy, heh."
"Oh, don't like that."
"It has several perfectly respectable definitions, Sam. Grow up."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Nothing's come up on your radar, case wise, has it?"
"Nah." Dean checked his phone screen for alerts. "Nah. It's the holidays. Maybe the monsters are taking a beat."
He didn't mention Lucifer. Sam didn't mention Lucifer. Neither of them invoked their mother, or Cas, Amara or Chuck or that Arizonian night hag a month ago who'd been chewing on his neighbor's ear (detached from said neighbor, who turned out to be buried in the backyard) as Sam broke down the front door. It was almost comforting, the familiarity of not talking.
"Maybe," Dean said. "Glad we get to be home for Christmas. Spent enough of 'em in motel rooms."
"True. And Cas is here as well."
"He is," Dean said, mindful in stepping around the sinkhole in Sam's tone.
Sam gave him a look. Dean ignored it.
"Okay. I'm going to sleep." Sam waved and exited.
Dean sat with his feet flat on the floor. He stared at the wall until it appeared unlikely he would be able to punch a hole in it with his mind.
He sent his mom a quick text. "Hi. Hope you're well. Forecasters calling for snow Christmas Eve. Been a while since we had a white one."
Mary wrote back, "Ho ho ho!" plus a Santa emoji.
Dean put the phone on the nightstand and his head on the pillow.
-
23 December
Dean entered the kitchen the next day on a wave of violin music pouring forth from a bluetooth speaker. Cas had stuck pieces of scotch tape to the speaker's flat top, for easy access while wrapping, Dean guessed. The table where they ate was additionally cluttered with two boxes, a bolt of ribbon, a pair of scissors, and a scattering of tags. Cas was glaring at a large piece of foil wrapping paper printed with candy canes like it was Crowley.
He noticed Dean and his expression softened. He turned down the music. "This is harder to do than I had anticipated," he said in his deep voice, a bit sheepishly.
Dean poured another cup of coffee to give himself something to do other than what he wanted. And instead of ten things he might have asked, he said, "Whatcha listening to?"
Cas paused midway through sawing at an edge of paper. "Copeland. Rodeo."
"Rodeo like…a rodeo?"
"It's a famous ballet."
"About a rodeo?" Dean was lost enough he sat down on the stool beside Cas. Which, incidentally, was not the stool he'd intended to take.
"I am given to understand it's about a cowgirl looking for man." Cas resumed cutting, and moved on to folding, and furthermore to taping. The box he was wrapping began to look festive and not at all like the work of a skyscraper crammed into the body of an investment banker with subpar hand-eye coordination. "It's difficult for me to follow the synopsis of the storyline based only on the movements of the music. But it's humorous, and beautiful, at times."
He cocked his head at Dean. Dean sipped his coffee and hoped the light was bad enough that whatever blushing he was doing -- or flushing, that was more the thing, because the coffee was hot and full of legal stimulants -- wasn't noticeable.
"Sure," Dean said eventually.
Cas looked away with a small smile.
A text message *boing* interrupted the music for a blip. Cas turned over the phone and swiped the screen.
Dean could see an attached photo of Claire and Alex, cross-eyed and faces crammed near the camera. The visors of their respective baseball caps were festooned with plastic ornaments, one of which, on Claire's, was Bigfoot.
"Thx 4 the sasquatch & say hi to the dorks," Claire wrote.
"Hi back," Dean said, and Cas dutifully relayed the message.
"You're welcome," Cas also typed. "Merry Christmas to Jody and Alex as well."
He punctuated the end with a string of emojis so incomprehensible he had to have learned it from Claire.
Claire sent back a trio of crying-laughing smileys.
In a minute, Cas put down the phone, something vulnerable around his eyes that put a lump in Dean's throat immediately.
Before Dean could say anything, Cas changed the subject with, "The later in the day we head to the grocery, the more likely there is to be a crowd."
"Dude. Lebanon is not that big."
That statement should not have turned out to be the stupidest thing Dean had ever said, because he had said a royal fuckton of idiotic things in his cursed life. And yet.
Their shopping list had mostly been vanquished. For Christmas dinner, there would be ham and sides, beer, pecan pie with chocolate chips. The only bags of pecans left were large enough to make multiple pies, and though this was pleasing, the two men haggling over the last quart of egg nog in the nearby dairy case made the simple act of walking by them feel risky, like Dean was scaling an icy mountain ledge. Also, he'd wanted some nog. Alas.
"There's soy nog left," Cas pointed out.
Dean and the two hostile bros all looked at Cas with dismay. Cas's comment did pop the bubble of imminent violence. The bulkier of the nog hogs growled and pushed the carton into the hands of the other guy. A Christmas miracle.
"So that's no on the soy nog?" Cas asked Dean. Something about the look in his eyes was not quite innocent.
Heat shot up the back of Dean's neck fast enough it could've made an audible crack. He swallowed and wheeled away toward the other end of the baking aisle.
"I think we need one more dessert," Dean said, proud of how unaffected he sounded.
"I saw a recipe for cookies--"
"Yes?" Dean leaned toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.
Cas procured a torn scrap of candy cane wrapping paper from the depths of a trenchcoat pocket. "The recipe seemed very simple." He consulted a series of scribbles that may have been Enochian notation. "One cup each of creamy peanut butter and granulated sugar, and one raw egg. Unshelled."
"That's it?" Dean asked skeptically.
"According to the lore--"
Dean assumed that meant: Reddit, or some shit.
"--you stir until the egg is well incorporated. Roll spoonfuls into balls, press the balls onto a cookie sheet with a fork. Bake for ten minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit." Cas looked up at him in a way that made his eyelashes seem particularly dark and luxurious and distracting. "I don't mind peanut butter."
"You had me at a cup of sugar," Dean said, jolly as an elf who flirted with everyone and not just the guy he currently wanted to…
His breath stuttered for a second.
Bake cookies with.
A literal fact, and only that. No analogies, illusions, allusions, metaphors or euphemisms here.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Cas said, "The premade nut butters are an aisle away."
"We need a couple other things anyway." Dean girded his loins, the very loins he was otherwise disregarding entirely, as one would in a grocery setting and all other outings (fucking hell) with one's best platonic pal, and pushed through a clot of customers raiding the loose nutmeats tower.
There were fewer people in the new aisle, but also fewer available choices. Cas stood on tiptoe to grab the one jar of peanut butter in plain sight, and Dean pondered soup.
"Acorn squash or tomato bisque?" he asked.
On a delay, Cas said, "You know Sam will eat either."
Something about the way Cas clipped off the last word made Dean follow his line of sight.
Several feet away, a baby, not yet a year old most likely, was held on a woman's hip. The baby swung one foot back and forth as if sitting on a dock watching a turquoise lake ripple in northern breeze.
A tiny foot, in a tiny lavender sock.
One emotion and another crossed Cas's face far too fast for Dean to describe them, much less name them.
The baby's eyes were glued to Cas: anticipation.
Cas gave her a tiny wave. Her gummy, drooly grin was instantaneous.
The woman gave him a friendly smile and said, "She's never met a stranger." She crossed her eyes at the baby and the baby laughed. "Have you, Pattycake?"
The baby agreed by patting her adult's face.
Cas waved goodbye and the baby threw her hand up in an approximation of a high-five.
Dean took a breath for the first time in ages. "I'll get tomato." He tipped two cartons into the cart.
His shoulders felt tight. Concrete floors were hell on the ol' bones.
Cas seemed to twitch back into his body. He placed the peanut butter jar in the cart as well. He didn't avert his eyes from Dean as much as not seek him out. Dean exhaled against some somethingerother squatting on his gut. An out of context passage of Dickens floated up to the surface of his memory.
"...A little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach…"
Yeah. That's all it was. Undigested beef. Wavy gravy. Whatever.
Still, he crowded next to Cas as they continued toward the check-out at the front of the store. There were indeed more and more customers arriving, right before dinnertime and this close to Sunday. It was a courtesy to conserve space.
-
Sam helped them unload groceries and even helped making and eating some sub sandwiches, and then he escaped the kitchen, probably to partake of nerdiness like reorganizing the magic spell ingredients room or discussing Proust with other nerds online.
"We're having ham on Sunday," Dean yelled down the hall at him. "Happy Christmas!"
"Sounds great," Sam yelled back, from wherever.
Dean rounded on Cas, who was fidgeting with the oven. "You have to press down on the dial and turn. No jangling," Dean said. "It's gotten loose or outta whack recently."
"Jangling?" Cas asked under his breath.
"No jingling either." Dean took down a big metal bowl and tossed it with a clang onto the metal countertop. He did the same with their one cookie sheet, which always looked to him like the Men of Letters had used it for target practice, and a metal measuring cup. "Cookie time, hell yeah."
The dough, such as it was, was funky thick. Not too terrible to work with. Forming it into balls seemed pretty simple. Cas used a fork to press tine-marks onto the tops with a concentration appropriate for advanced surgery. They put the sheet into the oven and closed 'er up, and leaned against the counter with the general air of two clueless guys waiting for a kid to be born.
Dean winced, as soon as he thought it.
He let himself settle. "Hey."
"Hmm," Cas said.
"How are you?" He looked over and caught the bloom of surprise on Cas's face.
"I'm fine," Cas said slowly, like Dean had asked a trick question.
"I mean." Dean didn't look away. "You had a rough time of it, with Lucifer. For months," he clarified, as though Cas might've forgotten.
"I knew what I was doing, Dean." Cas studied the stovetop. "With Crowley as well, even if that was… Not the same." He huffed out a breath. "At least working with Crowley… He never had control, of course."
It might've been a dismissal, of the kind Dean was an expert in providing, if not for the sadness in Cas's eyes.
Sadness. Resignation.
"I truly thought Lucifer could help us," Cas said. "But as usual I didn't--" He shook his head. "Everything with Amara and Chuck was so much bigger than I imagined. So much worse, for a while." He raised his gaze back to Dean, and it pierced right into Dean's chest like a blade. "You had it much worse than I did."
You really believe that, don't you? Dean thought. He could barely breathe around it.
"Amara," Dean started, and stopped. He let the timer tick off ten or fifteen seconds. He chose. "She thought she knew me. Understood me. She brought Mom--" His voice faltered. He kept going. "Amara had the power and I. Did not. I was ready to die to keep her from killing the world, but I didn't want to die, you know? And she was in my head because she let herself in, not because I let her in."
He thought about Cas hugging him. Saying, I could go with you.
In the inadequate kitchen light, Cas's eyes shone. The blade sunk in deeper.
"I don't think I had it worse," Dean said. "I just had it different."
Cas made an expression that seemed to say he would accept this falsehood for the sake of manners. Dean wanted to kiss him so badly he shifted backwards in case his treacherous hands went reaching for Cas of their own volition.
"I'm sorry he hurt you," Dean said, and Cas's face was about to crumple, he could tell, and that was the exact second the timer buzzed loudly enough to make them jump like they'd been goosed.
"Fuck." Dean slapped the timer off and grabbed a potholder, the adrenaline snapping through his veins making his hands shake.
The cookie sheet was removed from the oven and placed on the stove top. Dean took a chance on glancing at Cas, whose eyes were wilder than cookies normally required until he took a deep breath.
"They do look like cookies," Cas said with the dry serenity of a desert.
Dean cough-laughed and grabbed a metal spatula from the drawer.
"We're supposed to wait two minutes before removing them," Cas said.
"Okay."
Dean squinted at the cookies. They did appear to be cookies. Round. Lightly browned. Smelled fantastic. All in all you would not mistake them for anything other than cookies.
Two interminable minutes gone by, Dean tried scraping one off the cookie sheet.
"Hmm," he said, as the cookie splintered into chunks.
He went at the next ones more gingerly, until the plates Cas had were full and most of the cookies intact.
"Moment of truth," Dean said, putting one of the broken pieces into his mouth and chewing.
Cas did the same.
They looked at each other.
"Holy shit," Dean.
The sentiment was mirrored on Cas's face. "The molecules are still prominent," he said, "but I like it."
"These're stupid amazing." Dean was already cramming a whole cookie into his gob and attaining transcendence. "Three fucking ingredients."
"They are nice," Cas agreed, chewing another bite with measurably more dignity.
"Goddamn voodoo," Dean said, picking up cookies double-handed, 'cause second-degree burns? Worth the risk.
All but ten of the cookies were gone in a matter of minutes. Dean inwardly congratulated himself for buying extra milk at the grocery earlier.
He felt giddy with cookie triumph, or possibly just sugar. Cas was watching him with a smile almost right there, threatening to break out at any time, and now Dean was bumping his arm against his. He wanted to see that smile at full wattage. The cookies were Cas's idea, Cas deserved the glory here. Best batch of cookies Dean'd ever had a hand in.
He could kiss the taste of them off of Cas's mouth--
"You make cookies?" Sam said, strolling into the kitchen like he lived here or something.
Cas moved away to find Sam a plate.
Dean thought about the jury trial that would have a prosecutor proclaiming things like, ...And he killed his brother with a metal spatula a mere two days before a national holiday. Your honor, we seek the death penalty.
Before he shut himself resolutely alone into his own bedroom, Dean did knock on Sam's door.
"You're doing okay with everything, right?"
Sam squinted at him and toed off his sneakers. "Relative to what?"
"Been a stressful few -- several -- months. Possibly years, even."
"Possibly." Sam let his eyebrows rise and fall. "I'm okay, Dean."
"You wouldn't tell me if you weren't, would you."
"Probably not." Sam paused. "We gotta stop Lucifer, but. What else is new."
He didn't sound dangerously hollowed out about it, so Dean let it go for the time being.
"Okay!" He clapped his hands together. "Good chat."
Sam laughed silently. "You invited Mom to dinner Sunday?"
That brought Dean up short. He looked at Sam for a beat, past the white noise. "I will."
It was a simple text, after another hour of deliberation.
"Having ham n stuff Sunday around 6. We'd love it if you'd join," he wrote.
"Thanks. Love you," Mary wrote.
It wasn't exactly an affirmative RSVP, but he hadn't expected one.
-
24 December
Someone was throwing a concert in the largest bathroom at seven a.m.
The song, amplified by the tiles and concrete, coagulated as Dean entered.
Cas was scrubbing one of the stalls with a sponge and chemicals strong enough to singe nostril hair. On the floor, the clunky jambox Dean had bought for three bucks at a junk shop issued forth the impeccable Mr. Plant and his beseeching vibes.
As you would for me, oh, I would share your load -- let me share your load.
"Hello, Dean," Cas said over Page's guitar. "I won't be but another half hour or so." He rinsed the sponge in a bucket.
"You're listening to the mixtape," Dean said, startled and grinning, and possibly not awake enough for prudent self-censoring.
"Of course," Cas said, as though it was patently obvious he would. He had a fond look on his face. "I like this song in particular very much."
Dean was suddenly far too awake, far too underdressed, far too…far too… Ol' Robbie just kept singing, "Baby, let me," and oh hell what was Dean supposed to say to that. He'd given Cas the tape weeks before, having made it one night with the help of what, in retrospect, was liquor-fueled bravery.
It was hours too early to start drinking again.
"Um. Yeah. Yes. I like this song as well." Dean fidgeted. "Obviously."
Cas, preoccupied with disinfectants, was not noticing this display of barely concealed panic, thank god for minor mercies. "The lyrics have a lovely message."
"Yes," Dean said faintly. "Oh."
Cas looked over.
"No," Dean said, "it's only I-- It took a while for this song to grow on me when I was younger. It felt too much like prog to me."
"Is prog anything like a trog?" Cas asked. He stepped out of the stall with a small smile.
"No." Dean shook his head, smiling a little defeat. "It means-- You know, it isn't important."
Whatever track his train was on had derailed at the sight of Cas's forearms, uncovered by the rolled up sleeves of an old plaid flannel that may have been Sam's.
Cas did notice this lapse in conversation. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen," he said, like caffeine withdrawal might explain Dean and his jitteriness.
Coffee did sound great, though. Maybe it would still be scalding hot and Dean could pore it directly onto his face.
"Thanks for cleaning in here," he said, moving toward the hallway.
After he'd downed a cup of coffee so quickly his tongue was numb, he tried to put himself in some sorta order, mentally.
Cas was supposed to listen to the mixtape; that was the whole reason Dean had made it for him.
Cas lived in the bunker, as far as Dean was concerned. It only stood to reason Cas would be responsible for some of the chores.
Cas had arms. Arms were not invisible.
Unfortunately, all of these thoughts in procession had the cumulative effect of making Dean feel even less sane.
Another pot of coffee would cure him. He was sure of it.
-
He'd heard once that shopping on Christmas Eve wasn't too bad since by December 24th a lot of folks had given up and/or were tapped out, finances wise. Dean was not benefitting from any widespread collective surrender, but he did find his mom a beautiful winter scarf in shades of gray and pale green. He bought Sam some of those overpriced multivitamins he liked, and, for want of figuring out anything else to buy Cas, another blue hoodie, this one paler with a zipper.
He didn't know what it was about this time of year, or this specific year -- the persistent gloom, the hooky-spook feeling of everyone in the country being out of the office, emotionally or otherwise, the long-delayed whiplash of being batted around by the creator of the universe and His questionable-to-horrific kin, the revelation that England had a Men of Letters chapter and they were such a bag of dicks they made angels look civilized (no offense, Cas), etc., etc. Traffic jams. In Lebanon, even. The town's population measured in the dozens, but okay.
Dean turned off the Impala and sat there in silence for a few measured breaths. He imagined Cas into the backseat and his face went warm.
So much for that, he thought, shaking off the daydream.
The bunker was suspiciously empty at six o'clock and smelled like someone had been cooking, despite a lack of foodstuffs sitting around. Dean was about to start calling names and kicking butt, and then saw something twinkling in the library.
The tabletop tree had been bedazzled with a single string of teensy white lights. A piece of folded paper was tucked beneath the tree base.
Behind the bunker, on the knoll
Cas's handwriting.
He left his bags in his room and put his coat back on. Outside, he trudged up the hill in powdery snow that had begun to accumulate on the grass. In the strange bright darkness, he could just see Cas sitting on an old log, his face tipped up to the sky.
Dean watched his profile for a minute, from a safe distance. He let the ache roll over him until he knew he could withstand its weight.
He kept climbing.
Cas had probably heard him huffing up the last few steps, where the embankment seemed slipperier. He'd buttoned up his trench like he was capable of getting cold -- although, maybe he was? He looked cold and elated to see Dean, and the combination made Dean's longing heavier for a moment.
"Good thing I wore my lumberjack boots," Dean said, because why waste an opportunity to be an asshole.
Cas stood up, expression changed on a dime. "Good thing there's no-one around to be offended by my stiff wardrobe." That one cocked eyebrow was less polite.
Touché.
A big brown cardboard box sat at Cas's feet.
Dean looked at it pointedly.
Cas sighed. "I didn't know what to give you." He held up his hands. "I know you said what you said. I wanted to get you something."
"Pretty big box, Cas," Dean said, putting on a smarmy voice. "Settin' the bar real high here, man."
"You may want to reserve judgment on that." Cas rubbed his hands together, less from glee and more, perhaps, from chill. He picked up the box with zero effort, as always.
Dean took the box from him tentatively, until he realized it was extremely lightweight. He sat it on the log and opened up the untaped flaps.
"You bought me…popcorn?" Dean asked, staring down at what was a whole jar's worth of kernels popped into fluffy abundance.
Cas plucked at a piece and a long, long, long rope of popcorn rose from the box. "I saw somewhere that some people have a tradition of making popcorn garlands for the wildlife at the holidays. I thought we could put it on this fir that's up here."
The wind was sure cutting into Dean's eyes, wasn't it? Making them burn.
He wanted to laugh, or scoff, and found he couldn't, he just couldn't. He was going to have to walk back down the hill with Cas in a while and pretend like this wasn't the most romantic Hallmark movie shit ever, like it wasn't crushing him that Cas didn't mean it that way, 'cause why would he.
Dean helped Cas take the popcorn chain all the way out of the box and they walked in general synchrony to the fir. Their hands lifted the garland up and around the not too tall tree; when they were finished they stood back and admired the effort.
It looked like a proper Christmas tree in a storybook, like twee squirrels and precocious deer would arrive soon. It was the prettiest Christmas tree Dean had ever decorated.
"Thanks, Cas," he said, meaning it more than usual.
"You're welcome." And if Cas's voice sounded kind, well.
That's who a real friend was, wasn't it? A kindness.
Bird feeding, homemade gift giving, dashing Disney prince amounts of kindness.
In his bedroom, Dean stood around opening and closing his hands, trying to put their circulation back in order. Trying to clear his head, lift away the twinges in the crooks of his arms, the back of his neck. He needed to wrap his measly offerings. He needed to plan tomorrow's cooking schedule, get some sleep already. No use waiting around as though sleigh bells were gonna ring out.
Cas would know where the wrapping paper was being stored. Dean knocked on his bedroom door twice.
"You decent?" he asked, opening the door after there wasn't an answer.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cas wiped his eyes and looked over. "Of course."
The tears thick in his voice were so disconcerting, so unexpected and rending, Dean was perched beside him in an instant without as much as another conscious thought to justify his actions.
"Cas?" he asked softly.
Cas closed his eyes. Another tear or two dripped onto his hands folded in his lap. "I've been thinking," he said.
And as soon as he said it--
"No," Dean whispered.
There was no snow here, no froth or fog or checking out. Cas's intentions were as clear and sharp in Dean's brain as an icepick.
"I should leave Monday," Cas said, watching the flame of a jar candle on the chest of drawers flicker. "I'm of more use to you, to all of you, if I'm actively searching for Lucifer, which I should have been doing all along."
"No," Dean said, for once in his life not in anger but in utter dismay. "You don't have to earn your keep, for pity's sake."
Maybe Dean was reentering puberty and that's why his voice was so perpetually fucked up anymore.
Cas wouldn't look at him, something ashamed and mournful in his eyes.
Something lonely.
A calm, terrible sorrow poured into Dean's throat.
"I don't want you to go," he said, enunciating every word, not fumbling as he dipped his head into Cas's space to make him look at him. "Cas. We need you-- I need you to stay. Not because you are capable of smiting a demon or tolerating Crowley. Not because your dumb fuck of a brother is plotting whatever he's plotting and your dad left, again." Dean took a breath. It made his voice shakier. "I want you here because I want you here. You have any idea how much I missed you when--"
The when being any of a number of times Cas had been in heaven, captured, hunted, imprisoned, possessed, tortured or outright dead, or assumed to be such, and Dean--
Whatever Dean felt had been like its own animal stalking a cage; a clawed-open wound that only ever began to heal when Cas was home. How Amara might have empathized, if she'd understood human empathy. Dean had been able to keep his own feelings locked away for years.
And now… Not so much.
Despair was creeping in at the periphery; he only had a little courage left.
Cas didn't look away.
Dean's throat closed.
I could be your home, if you wanted, he thought, without hope.
The lock clicked back into place.
He looked down, swallowed. Okay. Okay. Cas would be leaving. He'd survived before.
They both had, Dean supposed.
"Dean," Cas whispered, and his fingers gently pried open one of Dean's clenched hands, until he could press their palms together. He was leaning closer, his eyes full of candlelight and wonder.
Dean had missed something.
"I heard you," Cas said, his forehead touching Dean's, "when you prayed to me, a moment ago."
The lock began to crumble. Dean lifted his other hand carefully.
"Please, please stay," he whispered, brushing his thumb across the top of Cas's cheek.
Cas leaned into his hand. He nodded. Dean ducked his head again, and Cas met him for the softest, warmest kiss Dean had ever felt.
They pulled back. It could have been left there, maybe. A modest kiss. A friendly, fleeting moment.
For as many as two more unsteady breaths they stared at each other. Dean felt his stomach lift as Cas's pupils dilated.
There was nothing chaste about what Dean wanted, or what he saw in Cas's eyes.
When he and Cas crashed back together, somebody made a helpless, relieved sound. Each of them had the other's head cradled in his hands.
Neither of them left the bed for hours, and neither of them slept.
-
25 December
"Deck the Halls" issuing forth from the floor did rouse Dean from an ultra relaxed haze. He groaned and reached down over the edge of the mattress. His fingertips met cloth and boot treads and he scrabbled around attempting to locate the errant phone that was mixed up in the heap. The phone kicked into high gear with a shriller version of the song, prompting Cas to snap his fingers.
The music stopped.
"Nnnn," Cas said into Dean's shoulder blade.
The heat of his exhalation trembled against Dean's skin. "Was that an alarm, or did you change your ringtone?" He shifted back into Cas's hold.
Cas tightened the arm around Dean's waist. "It's eight a.m."
"Ah."
Dean drifted and basked. Cas opened his hand and began to slide it lower. Dean was extremely, if sleepily, into this next gambit. And then he remembered what day it was.
He caught himself before he actually fell out of bed.
Standing up was successful, in that he didn't fall down then either.
"You have to start cooking already?" Cas blinked at Dean like Dean was endearing and inexplicable.
The floor was numbing Dean's feet as he tried to distinguish his clothes from Cas's. "Soon. Coffee first."
"Naturally." Cas sat up and stretched and yawned and scratched through his messy hair that made him look like he had when they'd first met, which in turn made Dean's heart cramp with adoration. "I can make that."
A pot of coffee guzzled, they dragged each other into the bathroom, propped a chair against the doorknob, and cleaned up, round-aboutly. Getting dressed in clothes that hadn't been on the floor was also somewhat less efficient than it might have been under other circumstances. The caffeine was meeting serious resistance; Dean almost fell asleep halfway through putting on a sock, since he was lying down, curled against Cas.
Cas stroked his fingers through Dean's hair over and over. Already addicted, Dean raised his head to kiss him, and it was more effective than another pot of coffee would've been.
Around ten o'clock, a crust was being blind-baked and Dean was wiping down the counters for the next phase. A kettle of apple cider and cinnamon simmered on the stove. Cas was up to his elbows in potatoes at the sink. He'd queued up a Christmas playlist on Dean's laptop and Loretta Lynn was singing to heck with ol' Santa Claus.
Dean had rarely been happier in his life.
"We're still friends," he said with some amazement.
Cas plopped the pan of potatoes down on the counter. "Was there some question about this?"
Dean blushed, feeling lovesick and disastrous. "No. It's only... I am really great at ruining things." He flubbed around for the peeler and managed to feel even stupider.
"Dean." Cas put a hand on Dean's wrist delicately. "I'm never not going to be your friend."
Sensing perhaps that Dean was one million percent incapable of responding to that without crying, he leaned up and kissed Dean's temple.
Dean hugged him.
Cas hugged him back. "I'm not peeling the potatoes, Dean."
Jesus. That crafty look in his eyes was going to be Dean's kryptonite.
"Chop pecans for me instead?" Dean asked, taking advantage of Cas's inability to stop looking at his mouth.
Cas kissed him and slid a knife out of the closest drawer simultaneously. Dean tried not to perish from lust.
At some point it crossed his mind that Sam was taking advantage of a holiday to sleep late. He bounced down the hall to give him grief, as was his right as the older brother.
Sam's bedroom was empty. Instinct told Dean that Sam's bedroom had, in fact, been empty since sometime yesterday morning.
The bunker's main door clunked open and Dean raced toward the map room yelling "Sammy!" with enough panic in his voice that Cas was right on his heels. They mostly crashed into the room together.
"The fuck, man," Dean panted as Sam clipped down the stairs.
"Mary," Cas said, looking up at the balcony.
Sam gave Dean a half apologetic, half brat grin and hoisted a giant duffle bag into Dean's hands. "Merry Christmas."
"Hey, Dean," their mom said as she descended, smiling more regretfully. "Hope it's not too late to say yes to dinner."
"No, of course not," Dean said, thrusting the bag back at Sam, who had reached for the other bags Mary had and was therefore lousy with bags.
"Here," Cas said, more helpful than a concierge. "Hi, Sam."
The two of them hauled away the bag assortment, leaving Dean and his mother unencumbered.
She hugged him at the foot of the stairs. "You doing all right?" she asked. She smelled like vanilla and frost.
"Yeah, Mom." He let go with immense reluctance. "Real well."
She put a hand on his jaw and studied him. He tried not to squirm, wondering what she saw in his expression.
"Good," she said, eyes shining. "I hear you've got quite a menu planned. Need any help in the kitchen? Or company, at least?"
"The latter for sure."
He took a deep breath. She hooked her arm around his and they went to join Sam and Cas.
-
"Dude, no way," Sam said before he'd even torn all the paper off the book. He'd lit up like a bottle rocket as soon as he recognized the bottom half of the cover illustration.
"'The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world,'" Dean recited, and Sam joined him in unison: "'They lied and stole and smoked cigars -- even the girls -- and talked dirty and hit little kids and cussed their teachers and took the name of the Lord in vain and set fire to Fred Shoemaker's old broken-down toolhouse.'"
Sam cackled like a witch. "Thanks, seriously. A classic."
Their mom and Cas shared a look of pure confusion.
"It was my favorite book for, I dunno, two or three years in a row," Sam explained.
"Try five or six years, minimum." Dean tossed a sticky red bow him. "I read that book to you I could not even count how many times. Hundreds."
"Maybe ten."
"Fifty-seven times if it was once," Dean insisted.
"I said thank you," Sam said loudly.
Cas hid a laugh. Dean knocked his knee against his in solidarity.
During the bestowing of marshmallows atop sweet potatoes, while their mother and Cas chatted and set one of the library tables for dinner, Sam said, "So."
Dean stirred the pan of green beans. "Yeah?"
Sam placed the final marshmallow and admired his handiwork. "You and Cas, huh." He waited, gave up, and opened the oven to slide the dish of casserole inside. He closed up the oven and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Yes," Dean said, content to leave the topic there.
He glanced at Sam. Sam flicked him on the head, and Dean swatted his hand away.
"No fighting near a major heat source," Mary said, returning to the kitchen and exiting just as quickly with a tray of veggies and dip and a stack of napkins.
"'Bout time, is all," Sam told Dean, following her out.
Well. He wasn't wrong.
-
"They remade Shop Around the Corner into You've Got Mail," Sam was telling Mary, "which was about people emailing each other. I think." He shrugged. "Email was still basically a novelty in the '90s."
"I think it's novel now," Mary said. "Type a letter, a million words, I guess, hit send, it goes around the world before I can even open the next one from Bath & Body Works." She shook her head. "They send me about nine emails a day, and they sell so many types of soap. Who is using this much soap?"
Dean blinked. "I mean. We do go through a fair amount more than most folks."
Mary threw a wadded up napkin at him. "Yes, all right. But normal people, I'm saying."
Sam changed the subject back to holiday movies. "There've been a bunch more adaptations of A Christmas Carol, including one with the Muppets."
"What?" Mary's eyes bulged.
Dean's attention was drawn to Cas coming back into the room with the gift Sam had given him, a leather pocket journal with a removable notebook inside.
Cas sat in the chair beside Dean and started filing out the notebook's first page.
"Emergency contacts," he said.
"You're such a Boy Scout." Dean set his foot against Cas's under the table.
"You have a higher than average number of phone numbers." Cas hooked his ankle around Dean's. "And I'm already on my twelfth phone in eight years."
Dean resisted the urge to put his chin over Cas's shoulder, but he did poke at a corner of something sticking out of the journal until he could slide it out.
The badly ragged photo turned out to be of himself from over a year ago, taken at a dive in Tennessee that Dean vaguely recalled as being named something like Rubbin' Butts BBQ. He looked delighted; there was a pile of trashed ribs on the bar in front of him. Sam's elbow was also in the picture, to the side.
Cas cleared his throat and kept making notes.
Dean couldn't kiss him here. Or, technically, he could, but it seemed like the kinda thing that would bring the other discussion to a screeching halt.
The ache he'd felt over the last few days -- months, years -- when thinking about Cas hadn't dissipated as much as evolved, in the scant, if intensely pleasurable, hours since late last night. It occurred to him that just because he could have what he wanted, didn't mean he wouldn't want it.
Like, at all. And what he wanted, he wanted very, very badly.
Cas gave him a steady look.
They were definitely gonna have to figure out this thing where Dean started praying without realizing that's what he was doing.
"I like the version with Patrick Stewart in it," Dean blurted overtop whatever Sam was saying about Albert Finney.
He was the only one who heard Cas snort. He kept his foot right where it was.
-
"These antlers were made for a child," Dean grumbled.
"Then take them off," Sam said, unimpressed.
"I didn't say I was gonna do that." Dean added another glug of brandy to the mulled cider and stirred. "But you have to put the Santa hat back on."
"Fine." Sam ladled punch into four cups. "Are we watching a movie or no?"
In the other room, their mom laughed a hearty belly laugh.
Sam shot Dean an amused look. "I think she's telling Cas about that time you peed in the bathtub."
"I was two," Dean protested. "It's not like I still pee in the tub."
"You better not," Sam muttered, taking two cups as he wandered out.
Dean turned off the stove and was about to bring the other two cups to the library when Cas strolled in with an armload of dirty dishes. He was already wearing the sweater Mary had given him, more to prove it fit than because the bunker was chilly. Winchester genetics, or maybe sheer common sense, meant Cas's casual wardrobe was quickly becoming a trove of blue tops.
Cas left the plates on the counter. Dean kissed his cheek; Cas went very still, and his eyes went very black.
The kiss Cas returned to him was the sweetest, filthiest thing that had ever happened to Dean in any kitchen, which felt like a challenge for future encounters.
…When no-one else was essentially a room away.
"Are we going to watch a Christmas film?" Cas asked, as though the spot behind Dean's ear would reveal this most hallowed secret.
Dean never really answered. They did wander back into the library eventually, one after the other, Cas carrying the kettle for the refills bound to be necessary. Neither Mary nor Sam seemed annoyed by their temporary absence and thrilled to be offered more cider.
Dean ate another slice of pie, in case the pie felt neglected.
-
None of them had the energy to stay up and visit much past ten p.m. The dishes were declared the morning's business. Dean left Baby's new five-quart bottle of motor oil on the library table and his own new sweater folded neatly beside it. Goodnights were exchanged in the hallway. Mary headed to her old room and Sam to his. Dean saw Cas touching one of the feathery white Christmas tree limbs with a smile before he clicked off the lights.
Dean offered his hand and Cas took it, let Dean lead him away.
Cas just held him for a long time, the two of them slumped against the door inside Dean's room, where it was quiet and safe.
Both the room, and the circle of Cas's embrace.
"Wanna hold you too," Dean murmured.
The tenderness in Cas's face was almost too much to endure. Dean still found himself starving for it, greedy to be gentle with Cas in return, to make him shiver and gasp.
Later, Cas traced a triangle with his fingertips on Dean's bare hipbone.
Dean kissed the notch of Cas's throat, his clavicle, his palm, caught as Cas raised his hand to bring Dean back to his mouth.
Together, they learned how best to pray, no other soul or spirit privy to a single syllable of their confessions.
-
26 December
"Dean," Cas said.
"Mmmm." Dean made himself as immovable as possible. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten." Cas stroked Dean's back with his huge, warm, perfect hands. "If you let me get up, I can make coffee."
As though he couldn't pick Dean up one-handed.
"Mmmmmmmm," Dean said, without doing anything else like opening his eyes or rolling away.
After a minute, he said, "So. Anything about the holiday you'd care to make a tradition?"
Cas didn't respond.
Dean lifted his head from Cas's chest and smiled at the sight of him.
My dear home, he thought.
"Any of it," Cas whispered, eyes soft. "All of it."
"Done," Dean said, and kissed him good morning.
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Celebratory Kiss - Codywan Kiss Bingo
So excited to post the very first @codywankissbingo fill I wrote, pretty much immediately after getting my bingo card. It's been a while since I've played tennis, and also since I've had a tv to watch it, so let's just all be nice about the casual use of pat and pam commentation <3
(set in the modern day, 1.3k words, rated G)
[ESPN broadcast of the Australian Open Men’s Doubles Finals, 2022, commentated by Patrick McEnroe and Pam Shriver. Transcribed January 31, 2022 by ESPN intern.]
PATRICK: And that’s back to deuce for the sixth time this game.
PAM: Cody’s serving has been consistent and strong for this entire match, and even in dragging it out to a third set he’s still got it. But now that Grieves and Moll know how to just chip it back and get a rally going—
PATRICK: That’s when the games get this long, yeah. Cody going up to serve now, Rex kneeling down and—that’s the out wide hand sign he’s giving there. We’ll see how this goes . . .
[Pause. The camera follows C. Fett through his toss, the crowd utterly silent. The ball lands in the outside corner of the box, curving so wide after the bounce that it ends up in the lower stands, unreachable by Grieves. The crowd erupts in whoops and cheering.]
PATRICK: Just incredible, an ace to get us to a third match point. What was the speed on that?
PAM: The tracker is saying a hundred thirty miles per hour, wow. Don’t often see those kinds of numbers in doubles, usually it’s for the hard hitters in singles—
PATRICK: Your Isner’s, your Karlović’s, hell, even your Raonic’s—
PAM: Exactly. But Fett has all that power in his legs. You can see how far he lands inside the baseline after, just from the jump. And on a slice serve, too.
[Broadcast inset shows the relative placement of C. Fett’s service aces throughout the match; the majority are placed in the wide corners.]
PATRICK: Seems like throughout the game he’s gotten the most aces from these wide ones, but we shouldn’t discount those couple up the middle, especially as those are on Moll’s backhand.
PAM: Absolutely. And that backhand was something Moll used to struggle with in the singles circuit as well.
[The Fett brothers meet in the middle of their end and converse, Moll stalks back to behind the baseline to towel off and get in position to receive while Grieves towels off. A ball kid collects the ball from the stands and sends it back to the south end of the court for the service. The camera switches to a shot of the player’s family section of the stands.]
PATRICK: Oh, we’re seeing the brothers’ coach here, their dad Jango Fett. I remember back when I played him in ‘95, it was the same situation, very steady, playing the long game. Very mental.
PAM: And next to him is retired number one men’s singles champ, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
PATRICK: Always good to see him out and about, supporting the younger up-and-comers. Although—[laughs.]
PAM: Yeah, the Fett’s aren’t as young as they look! That’s the thing about doubles, you get the slightly older teams staying for longer, especially if they’re as good as these guys. Just think of Nestor and Zimonjić, or the Bryan’s.
PATRICK: Oh, I’m always thinking of the Bryan’s when I’m watching doubles.
[The umpire calls time, and the Fett brothers split with a high five, C. Fett bouncing on his toes at the baseline in service position, and then bouncing the ball on his racket. R. Fett crouches by the net; the camera zooms on his hand signs: “up the T” and “come to the net”. The crowd cheers again in sheer excitement, the camera quickly switching to a group of fans waving a New Zealand flag. The umpire calls for quiet.]
PAM: [Quietly] Third match point, Cody Fett to serve.
[An overhead view of the court shows C. Fett’s service, a hard and flat hit up the T that stays low and fast. Moll leaps for a one-handed backhand that loops weakly over the net, landing short in the service box where C. Fett has rushed forward to join R. Fett. C. Fett hits the return with a swinging volley at Grieves’ feet, which Grieves flicks up, lobbing high over R. Fett’s reach, into the empty back of the court. C. Fett runs back and only just manages to return the ball over his shoulder. A down-the-line rally ensues between C. Fett and Moll, which gets interrupted by R. Fett crossing over at the net to send the ball into the open court behind Grieves. Both Moll and Grieves rush to return and in the confusion, are only able to send the ball dribbling over the net. Having made his way back inside the service box, C. Fett reaches the let ball easily, and returns with a neat, shallow, forehand drop shot that bounces twice in the doubles alley. The crowd immediately roars.]
PATRICK: Wow! That was—what a rally to end on!
PAM: They’ve done it, the Fett brothers have just won the Australian Open Men’s Doubles—
PATRICK: The mastery of Rex’s backhand! And Cody’s swinging volley? We should be seeing the replay any second.
PAM: They deserve to celebrate this, though, after all that hard work, this journey they’ve been on all tournament long. Look at those smiles—oh hold on, what’s happening here?
PATRICK: Hey, yeah, what’s Cody doing?
[The camera follows C. Fett as he parts from a hug with R. Fett to run over to the high wall of the corner stands, just beneath the Fett’s family section. With a jump, he is able to reach the top of the wall with one hand, and starts to climb up.]
PATRICK: He really wants to celebrate with family, I guess! [Laughs.]
PAM: And they’re happy to have him! Even Kenobi is giving Cody a hand up, isn’t that—Oh! [Laughs.]
PATRICK: Wow, they’re really—Okay!
[C. Fett and audience member Obi-Wan Kenobi (Fmr. professional player, 19-time Grand Slam title winner, now retired) embrace at the top of the wall. Whoops and cheering from the crowd. Grieves and Moll have shaken hands with the umpire and started putting their rackets away.]
PAM: I wouldn’t have guessed, but that sure is the way to celebrate a Grand Slam win!
PATRICK: It sure is! Look even Jango’s smiling, and he never does that!
[If the official broadcast may become flowery for a moment: C. Fett and O. Kenobi kiss in the stands, sitting halfway on top of the wall, like a tide breaking along the reef. Their hands clutch the sides of each other’s faces, O. Kenobi kisses into C. Fett’s gleaming smile, and even though the crowd is too loud to hear it, they are both laughing in proud, ecstatic, hard-earned accomplishment. Oh my sweet god.]
---
[Pam Shriver stands with a microphone on the court in front of R. Fett, holding the Australian Open doubles trophy.]
PAM: [cont’d] A truly fantastic effort from you guys, not just today but throughout the whole tournament. All the way from the qualifiers to winning the finals! Really just amazing to watch.
REX: Thank you so much, we really wanted to—y’know, just play our best and represent our family, and our country, and—yeah just. [Breathless.] It’s such a good feeling.
PAM: I bet it is! And you’re speaking for your brother as well.
REX: [Laughs.] Yeah! He’s—well everyone saw, so he’s. [Laughs.] Indisposed?
PAM: Well we wish him and Kenobi all the best. And you guys have got the rest of the year to play in, too!
REX: I’m sure we’ll both be riding this high for at least the next couple Opens—Oh, great, you’re back.
[C. Fett jogs into screen and takes the offered trophy from R. Fett. His—his left hand has a ring on it?? Oh myg od]
PAM: I was just thanking your brother for giving us a wonderful final match to watch today. Is there anyone you’d like to thank in return?
CODY: Yeah, of course I couldn’t do any of this without Rex, but also the support we get from dad, and our other brothers, and—and I would also very much like to thank my partner. My fiancé.
REX: Oh, come on— [Broadcast ends with a twenty second highlights reel of the match, dynamic shots overlaid with celebratory music, ending on C. Fett’s climb up the stadium wall and his kiss with O. Kenobi. End of transcript.]
#I'm just imagining the teenaged ESPN intern writing this transcript and going feral over the on-court drama of it all#codywan#codywankissbingo2022#my fic
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ECLIPSE
Chapter 2: You wear the sun on your skin
Jahan, leader of the sun rebellion against King Arthur and a young Arthrian, accientdently meet on the way to the meeting, problem is they both don't know eachother secrets.
Y/N= Y/N
MU/N= Made Up Name
3rd Person POV:
As Y/N walked back to their house, mind still rushing with the man from this evening, he was like a song that always stuck looping in your head, something about him, he was the sun itself.
Shaking their head, Y/N Stepped towards their front door, sitting on the step was their mother.
"I was worried sick, i thought you would have come home for dinner, you ungrateful brat."
Their mother screamed, slamming her glass down on the concert, smashing into tiny pieces, Y/N stepped back as their mother reached out to try and grab them.
They bolted, running into the main part of town, due to it being the morning, merchants where setting up stools for the town market, Y/N couldn't think about anything but hiding from their insane mother.
Ever since their dad died, mother has always been upset, even before had, Y/N swore they heard their mother say 'I never wanted that child', suddenly their dad was drafted for the war, they moved tonthe sun kingdom and from their things have always been abusive.
They spotted it up a head was a small alley way enough to fit them in, Y/N drived for the opening as they sunk into the darkness.
Jahan's living quarters (3rd Person):
"My lord, I come with an urgent news" A voice at the door said
"Come in than" Jahan shouted drying himself down and wrapping his towel around his waist
"Omg- sir," the maid said, as she stumbled apon a shirtless Jahan.
He was torn, a well-defined 6 pack, which went nicely with the tanned skin. He had tattoos littered all over, he was anyones dream.
"If your going to stare, please ask first" His gruff, deep voice said as he looked at the women waiting for the news
"Oh yes, the news. Their was an Arthurian at the meeting last night, no one knows what they look love but it was give to the guards by an anonymous source" The maid said
"Make sure everyone coming tonight's rally is watched 24/7, I want any slip ups taken care of, we can't have this plan wasted, we will be done for" Jahan said pulling in his shirt, leaving a few buttons open.
He wanted to impress MU/N, he felt so attracted to them and he didn't know why, something was different about them, that something he will take care of instead.
Y/N (3rd Person):
It was getting dark, and the rally was tonight, they need to see this man again. there was a connection there that they couldn't explain if they tried.
Sliding from the gap they bolted for behind the piller, their was no one outside, meaning they could walk freely but the risk of being caught by their mother was high, so sliding their way through the town until the ended upnat the address that Jihun has written Down, opening the door and being greeted by two guards
"Do have an invite" One of them said
"All I have is this" Y/N said, handing the paper to the guards
"Have a good night," the gaurd said, opening the door and letting Y/N in, the place was dark, their where maybe 6-7 other people at this rally.
"So that should be all of you" A voice said coming from the dark, that must have been Jahan.
"So why the creepy basement" One guy said, he than regretting it moments later when a fire stated on his pant leg
"Well we need to be safe and secretive" The voice said, Y/N thought they recognised the voice....
JIHUN IS JAHAN
Oh no, this is bad
Very
Very
Bad
Stepping out from shadows, their stood Jihun, no Jahan stood, same outfit as yesterday but cut lower, his inked covered chest showing, it could make anyone swoon....its made Y/N swoon.
'Why does this man have such an effect on me?' Y/N thought, as Jahan looked at them, a cheeky smile planted on his face.
OH NO, what's that suppose to mean......
----------------------------------------------------------
Taglist:
@minheeskitten Zephyr :3
@dannswife Eli :3
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Protector [4] | 聖臣 Sakusa X f!reader
I am so not shameless in simping for haikyuu boys but still, leave me alone and do not judge my single ass ㅠ_ㅠ
word count: approx.
summary: Sakusa only wanted to focus on volleyball and had no time for romance, but what would he do if you, his long term crush that he himself didn’t realize, was in grave danger?
warning:
disclaimer: all but the story plot belong to their rightful artist/author.
Previous | Haikyuu HC Masterlist | Haikyuu Series Masterlist | Genshin Impact Masterlist
Atsumu and Hinata shared looks again and again as they kept whispering to themselves about how Sakusa really allowed you to take the front sit whilst Bokuto went into his dejected mode. Seeing this, Atsumu quickly texted the group, and nudged Bokuto.
It was a fun afternoon with the team, and you got to know everyone through brief introduction. Contrary to Hinata’s initial belief, you actually got along with Adriah and Oliver the most amongst the older men, with you speaking fluent English.
Once lunch was over, the team had to head back to gym for their practice match with VC Kanagawa, where Atsumu introduced you to Riseki, his junior back in High School. You remembered him being the poor guy getting boo-ed and jeered at by his own cheering team, but you didn’t bring it up.
You also greet Chigaya, having a quick greeting with him as well.
“Broccoli…” You stared at his hair, causing the Shinzen alumni to step back in concern.
“What are you staring at…??”
“Hoh… Your hair,” you said innocently, “broccoli #2.” You reiterated your brother’s words, catching everyone off guard, and burst out into laughter. Even Sakusa had to look away to not let anyone see the tiny smile on his lips, but his shaking shoulders were quite obvious.
“You Kageyamas...!” Chigaya sobbed jokingly, and you chuckled. Soon, the team gathered for proper warm-ups and the match started.
Coach Foster asked for you to sit next to him, asking for you to keep track of his players’ performance, and so you did. Pulling out your laptop, you begin to type away at lightning speed at relevant details that you think the coach might appreciate.
The matches continued all the way until they played up to six matches, with MSBY winning 4 out of 6. The other team soon left after cleaning and warming up, whilst you waited by the bench. “Coach Foster, I’ve recorded down the scoring rally, and the top scorers for each match. Would you like me to have it sent over to you?”
“We have a printer in the back office, dear. Could you print it out for me?” Foster asked before looking over to Sakusa, requesting for the guy to show you the way.
“Why me, coach?” Sakusa asked as he folded the towel.
“Why not?” The older man smiled, but you said you just needed the direction. With a knowing smirk, Foster looked away from his player and told you how to get to his office. Once you got some sense of directions, you promised to get the printouts within minutes and jogged off.
“Is Sakusa too shy to get close to such a cute girl?” Meian joked, which Sakusa quickly denied. He saw no reason to follow you, especially when he was covered in sweat. He excused himself to refill his water once more, avoiding the crazy staring his team was giving him.
“Sakusa-san is still as difficult to figure out as before…” Chigaya commented, and Hinata perked up.
“Oh yeah, you two met back then, right? But wouldn’t you agree, him constantly staring at [y/n], kinda give off his secret?” The ginger laughed. Everyone in that gym was so sure of Sakusa’s crush, and it seemed he still hasn’t realized he was staring at you the entire time.
Sakusa was never one to look at anyone for more than a few seconds if they weren’t speaking or anything, and liked to keep to himself or stand away, but around you, he tends to linger.
As you were printing your notes, you received multiple notification from your personal email. Believing it was something important, you went to check it out, only to see it was sent from an odd looking email. The sender’s email provider was what got you worrying, though. It looked to be from a disposable email provider.
Subject: Hello <3
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
(Attached 10 files)
You forwarded this email to your private email, and opened the attached files to see the person had sent you multiple images of your “Dakki” merch. Did this person figure out your identity? You bit your lips as you tried to think back if you might have been careless? Everyone should already know you’re Japanese, but not residing in Tokyo, but that was about it. The only people that knew your true identity were your family, the Haiba siblings, Asahi, Yachi, Hinata, Atsumu, Bokuto, Akaashi, Kozume, and Kuroo.
You knew none of them were dumb enough to leak your identity, but you also didn’t want to worry yourself over nothing. The dilemma was gnawing at you as you picked up the warm stack of papers.
Figuring it was the worst timing to think about it, you quickly made your way out of the office and came across Sakusa. “Hello Sakusa-san, were you refilling your bottle?”
“Yes. Are those the notes that you typed out? May I take a look?” Sakusa asked, eying at the stack of white in your hand. You blushed at the thought of Sakusa looking at your notes. What if he thought it was messy? Or it was too much?
Seeing how you showed signs of hesitancy, Sakusa retracted his question, apologizing for being straightforward about it.
“N-No! Erm, I was just worried you might not like how I took my notes but... Here you go,” you shyly held out your notes and Sakusa nodded, stating that he would never judge someone else’s note-taking since everyone has their own way.
Scanning through, he could say he was rather impressed at how well you recorded down everything with accuracy. He let out a small “heh” the moment he saw that he was the service ace for the day. Looked like he could rub this in Atsumu’s face again.
“You have great notes. Very neat, concise but detailed enough,” Sakusa complimented. You expected him to return the notes, however he held onto it, walking back to the gym.
“Sakusa-san?”
“You’re going to give them to Coach Foster, right? What difference does it make if I pass it to him?” Sakusa asked, opening the door.
“Right…” You murmured, keeping a loose lock of hair behind your ears and followed back. Your heart was beating slightly faster; was it because Sakusa praised you, or were you just happy that he didn’t find your notes too much? Or were you seriously letting the tiniest of admiration now festering into a crush?
No, it’s too soon since your last relationship, you shouldn’t get into one so soon!
“Oh, Sakusa, you went to check on y/n after all, huh?” Foster held an evil smirk, whilst Sakusa narrowed his eyes in a scowl, whilst the teams chuckled and pointed.
“I just wanted to look at what I was lacking before someone else touches the papers,” Sakusa explained, and took a sip out of his bottle.
“I hope it’s of help to you. Since I intruded in your practice, I figured the least I could do was make the best possible note! Oh, I listed VC Kanagawa’s players by names too, so it should be easier to identify!”
“You did a wonderful job! It’s a shame our manager position is not open, else I would have love for you to take on that role.”
“And I would have declined,” you laughed and began to pack up your stuff, “my hands are full, and I have an impromptu travelling tendency, so having a normal job is out of the question.”
“Impromptu travelling tendency?” Atsumu questioned.
“Aha, she attended Kingston University on a whim!” Hinata remembered, “she suddenly said she wanted to fly to England one day to Kageyama, and it took him, Tsukishima, Yachi, Yamaguchi, Sugawara-senpai and all of our juniors to convince her to rethink about her decision!”
“I- Hey! I wanted to study in Kingston, okay! I just didn’t...tell anyone back then...” You defended, albeit rather unconvincingly, with how your words trailed off. “...Fine! I’ll inform you guys earlier if I were to take off again, okay?”
“But why do you like travelling so much?” Bokuto asked with his head tilted.
“What’s not to like? You like to go overseas too, no?” You asked brightly as you remembered the last time you suddenly took off and landed in the middle of South America during your school term break.
“Yeah, I do, but you just up and go at times. Akaashi said you need to be put on a leash!”
“A leash? I never knew that Fukurodani setter of yours is so kinky with (y/n)~” Atsumu winked, but Sakusa clicked his tongue at the sudden turn of conversation. He was rather intrigued about your oddity for a second before the word ‘kinky’ was mentioned.
“Disgusting as always, Miya. Can’t you be mindful of your words around a lady, or do you lack the decency to?” Sakusa chided. Hinata and Bokuto both looked at each other, and another imaginary lightbulb went off.
“It’s fine, Sakusa-san, I’ve heard worse things,” you ascertained nonchalantly, but Sakusa still glowered at Atsumu. He was not sure as to why he reacted this way, but he didn’t like how he used that word with you in
“Still doesn’t make it any better,” Meian cut in, pulling Atsumu’s collar back as he smiled menacingly, knowing his player needed to stop saying stupid things at times before another unneeded problem arise.
Particularly Sakusa possibly murdering Atsumu.
Hinata and Bokuto insisted that you waited for them to get you home.
When night fell, you began your regular streaming and just as usual, your three VIPs, Bokuto, Atsumu and Hinata joined your stream. It was a very comfortable stream for the night; no games, just chatting. Maybe it was just to ease the nerve of what happened earlier in the day, but being able to just ramble about random topics helped with your rising anxiety.
About an hour into your stream, a certain follower’s username caught your attention. Even though you have been thanking every single new followers, gifters, cheer bits and subscribers, this particular one got you wondering for a while. It was a twitch username 'Sakuomi' and your mind drifted to Sakusa Kiyoomi.
"No... Can't be him, nah..."
“Holy- Thank you for the follow and the Tier 3 sub for three-months in advance, Sakuomi. Welcoming to the family!” You smiled, and let your Vtuber model waved.
Sakuomi: It is no problem. I appreciate your energy, and have been putting you as my background noise whilst cleaning.
“Well, I’m glad my streams keep you company while you do so,” you laughed softly.
Sakuomi: It's no big deal. My cousin highly recommended me to watch you, and I just gave it a try. I look forward to your chill stream from now on.
"That’s nice! Then I hope I won't disappoint you," you replied.
Sakuomi: You haven't. And I don't think you will.
A smile stretched across your face. For the first time in a month, you were finally smiling from the bottom of your heart.
"You have no idea how much those words mean to me. Well, enough with such sappy moments..." You then looked at the notes you have next to you, one which you prepared to help you go through the topics you wished to go through for today. You spoke about the schedule for the following weeks, updates on new video games that you had already planned on playing by the year end.
You also spoke about volleyball, just a tad bit. It wasn’t unusual, even though you were known to be a gamer streamer, since you and Kozume, an ex setter, were friends. You always managed to speak about how amazing a certain team were. You jumped around a lot, and try not to speak about the Japanese teams too much, since your brother would always text you and say “could you not compliment Sakusa and Hoshiumi so much? I exist too, you know?!?”
But you couldn’t help yourself whenever you watched Schweiden or MSBY on your spare time; Tobio had always been amazing so you never paid him any mind after junior high.
Just as you were about to close off your stream on the 3rd hour, you took a deep breath and became serious. You really wanted to get it off your chest, and you knew it was better to say it now than later.
"It has come to my attention that a few people were getting too overboard with intruding on my privacy. Just a small reminder to please be mindful of VTuber's private life. We hope you guys understand that we are VTubers for a lot of reason, with mine being privacy and safety as my prioty. I really hope I don’t have to keep reminding people of this. I understand wanting to get to know people you like, but at times you have to remember that it might get uncomfortable. It happened during the coop after the chasm archon quest, but I hope it doesn’t occur again.”
Your chat was spammed with support and love for you, scolding those that even tried to pry into your private life. You were glad that your community understood, and your moderators also pinned your message in your discord server as a “kind” reminder.
That was when you received a whisper from Sakuomi. You normally wouldn’t really want to read them but for some reason, your instinct told you to open them.
“I suggest you reach out to the police if you do feel like your life in in danger.”
You typed back a quick reply.
“Thank you very much Sakuomi. I will definitely reach out to the proper authorities.”
~~~~
“...Why did I even send her a private message.” Sakusa closed Dakki’s stream and sighed. He was lucky that Dakki was kind enough to even reply him.
He stared at the hoodie that was delivered to him with the words “Darken Sun” embroided on the cuff in black. It wasn’t very visible if you were just walking pass but Sakusa noticed it well. The material was of high quality, one which even shocked Sakusa when he first felt it. He honestly believed that it was going to be of a cheaper quality but instead, he actually pleasantly surprised at how well it suit his wardrobe.
Trust his cousin to know him a little bit, he guessed. But he still wondered why Komori was so insistent about him buying from this VTuber.
#series:protector#haikyuu#kiyoomi#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#sakusa#hq sakusa#msby black jackal#miy aatsumu#bokuto kotarou#hinata shoyo#streamer reader#sakusa x you#reader insert#hq#hq anime#sakusa smau#stalking mention#online persona#vtuber reader
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So, just heard "justice for all" by the Traitors aka trump and his Jan6,2`1 frontline Insurrectionist... It was disgusting hearing them sang Our National Anthem, as trump said Our Pledge.
Such a mockery was made of both and they're using this trash to collect money for Traitors To The United States! It's Completely Shameful!
trump used Our National Anthem and Our Pledge as a backdrop to Trash and Threaten the United States while praising xi and putin
He promised at the Show "2024 will be the final battle", after telling his Traitors last week to revolt if he's indicted.
The 30th anniversary of the FBI and Branch Davidians Cult's Standoff in Waco sets the scene for how these Shows are going to be done... Getting his Traitors ready for "the final battle" for when he loses the 2024 Election.
He repeated the same lies he was telling from 2016 until now, adding more and more lies as he goes, rambling and whining about stuff that simple isn't true.
Russia and China: He went on about putin and xi meeting in Moscow. Calling them “very smart people” and “I get along well with putin,” trump said, adding that the Russian president discussed Ukraine regularly. “He wanted to get a piece,” trump said. “Now it looks like he’ll probably end up getting the whole thing.”
Without Evidence: As trump has repeatedly done when there's no Evidence to support his lies, he tells them anyway, so all cases against him are politically motivated efforts to hamper his 2024 presidential bid.
Of course it doesn't matter what trump does or says, if you ask them, after the Show what trump whined about at least half of them wouldn't know... They're just in it because they think trump will bring back white male supremacy and Jim Crow.
The election: “We won by much more in 2020 but it was rigged,” and later “It’s a rigged system. Like we had a rigged election.”
The Wall: he left out parts of the wall have and are falling, even if they weren't People are climbing over and my favorite... Go to where the border wall meets the ocean it's maybe a a couple minutes walk around.
Immigrants: and what “really bad people,” they are, but of course some Immigrants are bad people, you know... Like the trumps
Former President Obama and Ukraine: The Obama Administration merely gave Ukraine “pillows and sheets.”... Sounds like trump's projecting his disgraceful exposition... Throwing paper towels at Hurricane Victims in Puerta Rico.
Just to name a few.
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Living Behind the Mask Ep.1 Pt.1
"... Alright! let's start from the beginning again, shall we?" Tobie stated.
"Ugh! Fine, Fine." Evan exclaimed.
It's Evan's first day out in his new form, and he's spending that time heading to the store for groceries.
On days prior, Evan would have gotten food by snagging grocery bags from people on their way out, due to him being limited to his fox form. But thanks to his new human form, those days are behind him. He hopes that this new form will allow him to enter without being kicked out, like times before. However, due to the limitations of his design, His enchanted book, Tobie, has come up with a plan to make sure everything goes well.
"Now, as I've said before, this sigil will disguise you to look and sound as one of the humans."
"So, if anyone inside the houses we're passing were to look outside, they'd see some random ass guy talking to a floating book?"
"Of course not, boy! I'm hexxed so that humans cannot see me.
"Oh, good, so i'm just rambling to myself to them, then? Fantastic."
"Also, you're not a guy, you're hexxed to look like a 17 year old girl."
"Oh good, a 23 year old disguised as a little girl. And I thought you could only find that on social medias."
"Enough boy, this is as much as i could do in such short time. I would have done better, if you gave me more time, but you seemed too adamant to go at the moment."
"Well, of course, I'm finally going to start living like the humans around us. For so long, could only do so much in my fox form, but now I'm able to be so much more social in a human society."
"Well, then be a bit more grateful that I put that sigil on you in the first place. I have a strong feeling that your first impression in a human society would go a lot rougher had you gone without it."
"*sigh* Ok, ok, I know when to throw in the towel. i suppose it would be bad for me to go in when most of my body doesn't even connect to each other."
"Though, I will ask that you quit calling me "boy" when addressing me. It's only making it weirder to think I'm a little girl right now. just admitting that would either have the police sent on me, or a rally would start cheering for me coming out."
"I only say so because you still act as such, boy. You are still a young, developing demon. Why it hasn't even been 3 months since we've left the forest. Oh, I remember that night, how your experiences had changed you for the better, and I couldn't have been more proud."
"And I'm sure your family would say the same, my boy."
"Yeah, well, If a nice lady hands you soup and makes you question your moral choices in one day, I'm sure anyone would feel the same.
... But, thanks."
"Alright, now that our emotions are all out, back to the basics! Has the sigil dried now? It should be by now.
"Well, let's see? I think it has."
"Oh, the rune will definitely help for the moment. Now remember to not get it wet, or to rub off even a bit of that sigil. The slightest smudge could alter the sigil in a negative way. You wouldn't want the other humans to see you suddenly walking without a head, or the sigils' model suddenly inverting, now would we?"
"Well, I guess not, but remind me of that coming next Halloween, that gives me a great idea for a costume."
"*sigh*, At least attempt to focus, please."
"I remember! The sigil will only last a few hours, at most. I got it before. I'll be in and out way before then, alright?"
"Well, apart from the blatant sarcasm, I suppose you do. But please remember to head back as soon as you are done, by my estimation, it will wear off within 3 hours. No detours or distractions when your time runs close."
"Alright fine, but if someone tries to pull a fast one on me while I'm there, I'll try to squeeze in a few seconds to set them straight."
"Absolutely not! This is a human society, not the 5th ring. Things work differently here."
"Do be serious, boy! You said you wanted to socialize more in a human society, so you have to abide by human rules, as well. There are consequences to breaking those rules here, and the price for it can be steep."
"Hey now, relax. I was just yanking your chain was all, I'm not gonna do something that stupid when we haven't even been here for half a year. I'd give it a few more weeks until I really start to do some stupid antics."
"... Well, at least there's that. But all the same, I want you to keep your word that you will not get into any trouble and head straight back when you are finished, understand, boy?"
"Alright, I understand, and you have my word."
"Good, now I'll be off. my shows are coming on soon, and I'm still having trouble figuring out how to set the DVR to record it."
"Heh, even the great and knowledgeable book of the ancients has some trouble with modern life, it seems?"
"The pages don't exactly cover every aspect of human life in this time, mostly just the largely impacting ones, the rest is more so just skimmed over."
"Heh, alright then, whatever keeps your pages uncreased. I'll see you later."
"Farewell, boy, and remember what I told ya."
And with that, Evan opens a shadow rift in the ground and Tobie floats inside.
Gazing back on his path, Evan relizes that he Is just mere steps from his destination, the local "Supra-mart" one of the biggest corporate stores this side of the planet.
Evan closed in on the enterance, unaware of events that transpire in his future.
End of pt. 1
before I finish, I Just want to thank you for reading this far.
I'm aware the pictures look a bit odd, though it's merely due to the fact that this started as a comic Idea, before being changed to a graphic novel style, due to how long it took prior and it took up a bit too much effort.
also, I didn't want these pictures to go to waste, so I had to try and format them as best I could, so I apologize for how they look and will try to improve them as I go on.
this whole thing is a bit of a passion project to try to make more forms of media with my characters. It was rather fun to make and I do plan on making more down the line, so do please follow if you find this interesting.
also, and I do apologize for shilling out, but I'd appreciate it if i received a small tip for this. though, it's purely your choice, I'll still be making these regardless.
I also have a few other other social media sites that you can check out, however, I will be using tumblr for my stories only, and the others will be for previews, announcements and general shitposting.
here's my linktree that has all the links to them.
that's all for now, so please be patient for the next part, I promise i won't take so long this time. Have a good day.
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Fire Force Ruining Sex
-about: like the title says.. lil headcanons about weird things the fire force men do in bed, super late add in this is inspired by a trend I've seen on here the first person I saw doing it was yeagerslut so creds to them although they BEEN deactivated
-with: multiple fire force men, gn!reader (Assault's reader has boobs but thas it!)
-wc: 1.4K
-warnings ⚠️: sexual content (minors dni go on somewhere), rough sex implied, smut, crack (pls don't take anything I say serious I am lich rally stoopid as hell), all underaged characters are aged up to 18+
Officers:
Captain Burns: He knows, as a priest, sex is supposed to wait til marriage so that's probably why he prays to sol for forgiveness after every single time and makes you do it with him. It's definitely a mood killer & he definitely wasn't worried about sol when he was manhandling you but uhh.. lâtom ig?
Lieutenant Karim: Karim is actually pretty damn good at dirty talk even degradation, if you're into it. He's got a certain way of being juuust mean enough and it hits just right. Well.. the first time. He does that repeat speech thing in bed too and tbh hearing the absolute filth that spills from his mouth is fun once. The second time it just feels like he's got somethin to say for real 🤨
Lieutenant Pan Ko Paat: I think we all know where this is goin... yea the whistle stays ON during sex. But the whistle isn't an issue when it's just on, it dangling in your face like a chain can be kinda seggsy but I digress. No, the issue comes when he's using it during sex like if you want them to go faster or slower or whatever you could use your words no one needs this elaborate code of whistles..🤦🏾♀️
Captain Shinmon: His aftercare.. uhh.. leaves something to be desired.. like he does do it (he better after what yall just did I'm not sure you'll be able to walk to get your own stuff but that's neither here nor there) but I feel like he could try a bit harder. Aftercare is a bit of an exaggeration for throwing a towel on your belly and setting water & some grapes on your side of the bed & just muttering "eat it".
Lieutenants Konro: Him?? Ruining sex?? What is it? He's too perfect? He fucks too well? Now you're like a crackhead for the dick showing up at the 7 scratching your neck and shit like "I-is Konro in? Is he? I-I-I just need a lil.. come on man, I'm good for it.. I know you got some please.. man I'm begging" Yea a lil typhrosis ash on you is totally worth it.
Captain Obi: When Tyrese said "you know we be tearin it up breakin stuff that ghetto love", Obi felt that. Yall are pretty much robbing furniture stores & home depot from all the warranties yall have cashed in on. Bed frames, lamps, spackle for walls he pushed through fuckin you against, you name it. This is why yall fuck at his place.
Lieutenant Hinawa: I mean he's got a lot going for him so should you really complain? I mean he's a good guy, nice job, respectable rep, fine as hell, good in the sack, should you really be complaining that he's completely silent and deadpan when he's not giving instructions? Does the silence past the squelching & skin slapping sounds sound a bit eerie? Yea. Does it kinda feel like you're fucking a serial killer? Absolutely. But he does do the tiniest lil grunt when he nuts and the amount of times you've nut already.. I'd say it's a fair trade with Bundy over here.
Cadets:
Takeru: Nothing. He's never done anything wrong in his life. You should be honored & here you are lookin for reasons to complain.. he shoulda stayed with Tamaki.. smh
Ogun: See Takeru. Nothing. He's never done anything wrong, he's perfect. Stop complaining before I slide over there. My car keys in my hand rn, don't play wimme.
Arthur: Role playing is fun when it's not every single time. Daddy, sir, Master are all cool but "Sir Knight King, your Excellency Grace Sire" is kinda a mouthful especially when your brain is umm.. otherwise occupied.. Also that's definitely not how you would actually address a king back in the days but we move ig. ALSO ask him why you always gotta play the concubine like you the only one there! Why can't you just be the queen?.. Idk man, I love himbos as much as the next but there's gotta be a limit here..
Shinra: This adorable lil mf is way too excitable. Like we get it he wanna be a hero that's all well and good but why you gotta be a part of his hero training? I'm sure everyone's very grateful to all that stamina for saving the world but we needa check on you! You ok? You need some electrolytes? Epsom salt? A wheelchair? Them 3 day sessions be beating yo ass huh? It's ok I'll talk to him for you.
The "we work with Company 8 a lot but this broad don't really know how to separate us that well so we going here" category:
Vulcan: He is just so sweet he cannot stand to leave a stray to fend for himself in the street & you love that about him, you do! It's always a surprise to see what cute lil kitten or puppy or whatever he's fostering when you go over but its way less cute when you look up from receiving some (bomb) backshots and into the eyes of the aforementioned strays. You talk to him about it but he can't lock the doors bc "this is their house too we can't just kick them out like their previous owners did". 🙄 Still, does Whiskers really need to see you getting your back blown out??
Viktor: You know what, the boy may not have the strongest constitution but one thing about ole Vik here, he got some rounds in him & it's a good thing because when yall first started sleeping together Viktor'll be the first to tell ya,a practiced man, he was not. That's probably why he used to nut so quick. Like really quick like "the first time yall had sex he got a pump in and on the out he was spilling all over your belly"quick.. yea it was a problem but that's where the stamina (and that insane head game like seriously he picked that up disturbingly fast & well) does him some good. So yea he was a 3 pump Peter the first 3 or 9 times yall had sex but he always gets you off & he looks so damn cute apologizing who could complain?
Joker: Oh Joker Joker.. it's an experience fuckin with Joker. On one hand, he'll definitely dick you down the way you like but he's also an.. eccentric character. Whether it's him smoking like a chimney in the middle of sex, being a lil too truthful in his degradation (yea yea we can talk about my daddy issues when you're not rearranging my guts) or him humming a whole chorus when he cums; its always a story when you rendezvous with this man. And yes, your therapist knows all of them.
Kurono: Chile now you know… look I get it he's kinda hot in a very creepy way but I don't even know where to start on the toxicity.. I know therapy isn't cheap but this is costing yo sanity. Plus we all know his eyes do that thing when he gets excited, it gets worse when he nuts but you know that already.. Stand up!
White Clad:
Assault: You'd think being a part of a murderous, hell cult would be the weirdest thing about your boyfriend till the first time yall tried to sleep together; this man unclamped your bra and froze up. He literally just sat there lookin between you and your tiddies for a smooth 2 minutes then touched your boob and made an excuse to go to bed. He got a lil further each time, till he finally was able to have sex with you (in the complete dark yea but still I'll count it) baby steps I guess..
Charon: For a guy who knows his own strength and can even cross over to cocky about it, my mans does not know his own length if you know what I mean? My guy is BIG.. all over.. and everyone seems to get it but him. He's always in such a rush to fuck you, you gotta remind him pretty much everytime "Charon, baby, I wanna do it too but Imma need some prep before you go tryna fit that febreeze can in me please n thanks!" He rolls his eyes but he really doesn't wanna hurt you so he obliges. Somebody hammer it into this man's head he got a whole 3rd leg & that patience is a virtue.
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Cushioned
✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]
➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader
➜ Warning: Kageyama is just babie
➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.
[Re-Post]
↷ SUMMARY ↶
They’re just looking away for a minute for goodness’s sake and someone already managed to steal their spotlight as their manager’s knight in shining armor–but they’re chill as long as you’re okay. Well, except Oikawa.
It’s another practice match of Aoba Johsai and Karasuno–Coach Irihata mentioned about it’s easy to have opponents, however looking for a worthy rival is on another level. And Karasuno managed to earn a rightful place as Aoba Johsai’s rival–that’s why practice match against them is something to look forward.
As usual, when the crows greeted the team once they arrived, you were the one in charge in greeting them back and show them the ropes for the day’s match. Having clicked with Kiyoko and Hitoka made it even easier–being friends with another team’s manager has its own fun, especially you’re the only female in a huge room full of male population.
That and Karasuno is a very interesting team to watch–their dynamic serv as an entertainment for you and a future reference for understanding each and every member’s tendency.
You could watch them the whole match if not remembering your duty as a manager of Seijoh.
The practice match went smoothly–everyone was all out even though it wasn’t a real deal, and the second set ended with Aoba Johsai taking yet another one with Karasuno being extremely close with the points.
“Great work,” you praised, handing over the drinking bottles you previously filled with Kiyoko and Hitoka.
“Still, the freak-combi is hard thing to handle,” Matsukawa commented.
“Yeah, the shrimp is moving much better than before,” Hanamaki added. “He’s just spiking with all his might before but now he’s really controlling how to hit the ball.”
“It goes beyond amazing to irritating,” Oikawa clicked his tongue, the grip he had on his bottle tightened.
“You said that every time.” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “And Kageyama’s really on his game today. His serves were on point.”
“Even though I hate to admit it but Iwaizumi-san is right,” Kindaichi grumbled while Kunimi’s eyebrow twitched.
“And not to mention the digs!” Watari exclaimed, wiping his neck with a clean towel. “The rally is getting longer because no one wants the ball drops.”
“’Ah, the baldy is getting on my nerves with all those straights,’” you said, glancing over Kyotani who had his shoulders tensed from the sudden teasing grin he received. “That’s what you’re thinking right, Kyotani-kun? Well, Tanaka-san is really improving his shots.”
“You sure memorized their names, senpai,” Yahaba commented. “I didn’t even know anyone else other than Kageyama because Oikawa-san keeps mentioning him every chance he got.”
Oikawa gasped, feeling scandalized with the statement. “I do not, Yahaba-kun!”
You rose an eyebrow. “Are you really crushing on Tobio-kun right now? No. I don’t allow it with those trashy attitude you have every time he’s close.”
“I’m not, [Nickname]-chan!!”
“Hands off my baby, Trash King.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said!?”
“[Name]-chan!” Kiyoko called, which made you whipped your head to face her. “I think one of the bottles are switched, can you take a look?”
“Sure!” You replied back, immediately wrapping a clean towel around Kunimi’s neck. “I’ll be back in a second.”
You jogged towards the Karasuno team, and sadly that’s when the disaster happened.
Not noticing a small pool of water or whatever liquid that is on the wooden floor, you stepped on it without knowing–resulting an instant slip for you.
You yelped in surprise–feeling gravity automatically pulling you to the ground. Every thing seemed to be in slow motion somehow and even though you realized the fall was going to hurt, you didn’t have quick reflex to really move or do anything. That’s why you decided to brace the pain.
However, it never came.
Once you opened your eyes (since when did you even close it anyway?), you’re gaze immediately met with a pair of cobalt blue and black. And the only person who had both is someone you’re extremely familiar with.
“Are you alright, [Name]-san?” Kageyama asked, eyes filled with concern and his face was quite close with yours–wait, what?
That’s when you notice a sturdy arm wrapped around your waist, preventing you from hitting the ground back first–also noticing the series of exaggerating gasps and shrieks echoing throughout the gym. Your cheeks suddenly felt as if it was on fire.
“NOOO!! [NICKNAME]-CHAN!!” Oikawa shrieked–making the two of you pulled away. Your friend of nearly eight years stomped forward and put your figure behind him, shielding you from Kageyama. “Don’t get too close with our manager, Tobio-chan!!”
“Tooru, you know that he’s helping me, right?” you pointed out. “I would’ve hit my head.”
“N-n-n-nice save, Kageyama!” Hinata stuttered, you could see his face flaming red–and it seemed infectious because Kageyama’s face turned red, as he’s just realizing what he was doing.
“Shut up, dumbass!!”
“The floor does need wiping,” Iwaizumi commented. “We should take a break and wipe all of the court.”
“Me, Kiyoko-chan, and Hitoka-chan can do that. You guys just rest.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said!?” Oikawa whined, before turning and pointing accusingly towards his whole team. “And you guys! Don’t you feel something when a boy from another team have their hands on our manager!?”
Hanamaki shrugged. “He’s saving her, nobody can get close that fast.”
“He made sure [Name] didn’t hit the ground, as long as nothing happened it’s chill.” Matsukawa added.
“I-It’s way better if Otohaku-senpai’s safe,” Kindaichi stuttered. “That’s what I’m thinking…”
Yahaba tsked and looked away, murmuring something about ‘as long as our manager is safe, but I can’t get this frustration off my chest’. Kyotani just stared straight at their weird captain with no emotion whatsoever, he didn’t see Kageyama as a threat so he didn’t need to put his guard up. Watari just nervously laughing as he didn’t know how to reply that statement, meanwhile Kunimi was looking extremely done with the drama.
“Shouldn’t we start discussing strategies instead?” Iwaizumi remarked, which made all of them moved to face their coaches–choosing to ignore Oikawa’s shriek of betrayal.
“I got the mops! Let’s wipe the floor squeaky clean, Kiyoko-chan, Hitoka-chan!”
“Let’s do it.” Kiyoko replied, smiling slightly–and you could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya gushing over her radiating beauty.
“I-I’ll do my best!” Hitoka replied.
“Can I help too?” Kageyama piped up, slightly raising his hand.
“You can, but shouldn’t you be resting?” you questioned.
“OOH! Let me join too, let me join too!” Hinata was already by your side so suddenly.
“Shoyo-kun, it’s just wiping the floor, you’re being too excited.” You replied, laughing.
Then the two proceed to made a bet on who could wipe the floor faster and cleaner. Before they jumped into action, you reached out for Kageyama’s shirt and tugged it lightly which made him turned to face you. When you’re still in Kitagawa Daiichi, the boy was way smaller and now he’s standing half head taller than you–and he’s still growing.
“Thank you, Tobio-kun. For before.”
“I-It’s no problem…”
“Don’t get too close with Tobio-chan, [Nickname]-chaan!!”
“Shut up, Crappykawa!”
#haikyuu!!#haikyu#haikyu x reader#aoba josai x reader#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#hanamaki x reader#matsukawa x reader#yahaba x reader#watari x reader#kyotani x reader#kunimi x reader#kindaichi x reader#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#haikyu manager#haikyuu manager
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