#i'll post the other half of fics tomorrow lol work calls @.@

[cerridwen007]

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n. 

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship. 

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so. 

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule. 

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week. 

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen. 

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder. 

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough. 

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off. 

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true. 

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you. 

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again. 

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force. 

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings. 

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs. 

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach. 

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system. 

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again. 

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see. 

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock. 

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance. 

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds. 

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt. 

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters. 

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!”  He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high. 

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this. 

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you. 

*********

#dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic

[oceanlix]

Day 4: Kino + Face sitting

Pairing: Kino x female reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 726

Warnings: Drinking alcohol, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), face sitting, slight hair pulling

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

You’re two glasses of wine into the makeshift picnic with your boyfriend when Hyunggu’s hands start to wander, lingering at the hem of your skirt for a few seconds too long to just be innocent. You smirk to yourself, shifting into his lap and kissing him feverishly.

“Baby,” he groans, but his hands cup your ass and he makes no move to push you off of him.

“You seem pretty preoccupied,” you tease, setting your glass down onto the table. You watch his lust blown eyes as you start unbuttoning your blouse, slowly sliding your bra straps down your arms as well.

“You’re so pretty.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples as you expose your chest. You moan, leaning into his soft touch. “All nice and eager for me.”

You can feel his length hardening underneath you, so you twist your hips experimentally and are rewarded with a low groan. His lips are on your neck instantly, hands gripping your hips as he rocks up into you slowly.

Hyunggu pushes your panties to the side and rubs your folds slowly, gathering your juices on his fingers. You can’t help but moan loudly, dropping your head against his neck. Suddenly you’re glad for the rain, because you certainly wouldn’t be able to do this outside.

You whimper softly when he slips two fingers into your pussy, the slow pace driving you insane. Hyunggu hates to rush when you’re together; he loves seeing you get more and more desperate for him while he takes care of you. He strokes your walls gently, enjoying the way you grind your hips down onto his hand.

It isn’t long before he pulls his fingers out and leaves you empty again, but you don’t complain because he pulls your panties down your legs and throws them to the ground. The way Hyunggu grips your thighs and shifts to laying down on the couch tells you exactly what his next move is.

“Baby, are you sure?” you whisper, like you aren’t about to start foaming at the mouth. Your boyfriend grins, then hauls you up until your pussy is right in front of his face. He kisses your soaked core quickly, fingers digging into your ass until you let out a squeal. You can tell he loves the sound since he’s smiling wickedly beneath you.

Your hands tangle in his hair the second he starts nibbling on your clit, your thighs shaking with the effort to not close around his head. Hyunggu laps at you without a care in the world, pressing his tongue deeply inside you. You roll your hips against his face, biting down on your lip. You’re on the verge of screaming out for him, but you don’t want the neighbors to hear if they’re home right now.

“Come on, you can be louder than that,” Hyunggu urges, holding you up above his face while playfully nipping at your inner thigh. You shriek when he goes back to suckling harshly on your clit, now determined to get you off.

You feel the pressure building in your core, your walls fluttering as Hyunggu continues to fuck you with his tongue. He grips your ass so hard you think there’s probably going to be handprints there tomorrow, but you don’t care. If that’s the price you have to pay for a mindblowing orgasm from your man, so be it.

“Close,” you whisper, tugging on his hair to get your boyfriend’s attention. Hyunggu licks you deeply and holds you down against his face, letting you grind on him until you’re cumming. His face gets absolutely covered in your essence as he tries to swallow what he can, and you think it’s one of the hottest sights you’ve ever seen.

When you’re done coming down, you roll off to the side and look at Hyunggu. His hair is a mess, your juices spread all over his lips, nose and chin. His eyes are blown out with lust and a quick glance down tells you he’s rock hard, his jeans very obviously tented. You reach over and toy with the button, popping it open with ease.

“Want me to help you out there, handsome?” you tease, already reaching into his boxers to pull out his cock. Hyunggu smirks, catching your wrist in his hand with ease.

“I wasn’t done with you yet, baby.”

#pentagon smut #ptg smut #kino smut #kino x reader #kino fic #kinktober 2022 #my fic #i'll post the other half of fics tomorrow lol work calls @.@ #100

[nonvaleniente]

You could call me babe for the weekend // T . R. x Reader / Part 1

Pairing: Thomas x reader

Summary: They were each other's firsts.  First relationship, first kiss, first sex and then ‒ first heartbreak.  They both graduated high school and went on with their lives – Y/N went to university, became a semi-known author and moved into a different country. Thomas became an international rockstar, touring the world with his band. Now they're both back in Rome, reminiscing about the good old days.

Warnings: None for now. In the next part, there will definitely be some smut lol. There might be some grammar errors and I' m sorry about that.

Hey! This is my first fic in a long time. I get so many ideas, I finally decided to bring them into the world. Although there is basically nothing from the summary in this part, I hope you still enjoy it! If you do so, please reblog. Thank you!

Disclaimer: The name of this story comes from a Taylor Swift song " 'tis the damn season" . I do not own it, nor I am associated with her in any way, it just inspired me.

Part 2: https://nonvaleniente.tumblr.com/post/684585029368709120/you-could-call-me-babe-for-the-weekend-t-r-x

//

„No, Isabella, I just barely got here,“ you told your old friend from high school over the phone.

 As soon, as she heard that you're coming home for a few days, she got a great idea ‒ to go on a trip around the town, and look at all the places you used to like as a teenager. This would, of course, mean getting drunk in the same bar, where you used to go every other weekend. You agreed with this idea, but also didn't feel like socialising just a few hours after your plane landed. Hell, you're already in your pyjamas, laying in your bed. Cuddling your senior family dog after you already finished your skincare routine. No one is getting you out of there.

Isabella was begging you to join her for the night. „C'mon, I want to spend as much time with you, as possible, before you're off to your seemingly perfect life in Prague again.“

„Hey!“, you protested, „it's nowhere near as interesting, as your life, babe. You just got engaged! How cool is that? I work in a small café, writing poetry that anyone barely reads and no possible suitors in sight. Also, you have a dog! Your own dog. That is perfect,“ you tried to argument, while sitting up.

Your friend giggled on the other side of the line. „And since when do you care about relationships? You really changed since the last time we talked, huh?“, she sounded surprised. „That is exactly why we need to meet up now! I need to know everything.“

„Yeah, I also want to catch up on everything, but please, let me get some sleep tonight. I promise, I'll be down to any adventure you come up with tomorrow,“ you tried to convince her to hang up, as your eyes were already closing themselves unvoluntarily.

She finally gave up on convincing you to get out of your bed. „Ugh, okay, y/n. You're free to rest tonight. But don't you dare to disagree with me on anything for the next few days! I already have so many ideas, where we should go!“

„Okay then, but only if you take Noodle with you,“ you laughed, already half asleep.

As soon, as you wished each other good night, you turned off the lights and drifted off to sleep almost immediatly.

//

5 am.

You suddenly woke up to a loud buzzer noise.

You clumsily stumbled out of the bed and went to look out the window to see, what would anyone want in this ungodly hour.

It was Isabella, standing in front of her car, smiling. You could see a little bit o movement in the backseat, recocgnizing that it's her cockapoodle, Noodle.

You opened the window.

„What the fuck are you doing here?“ you whisper-shouted at her.

„Wow, good morning to you too, sleepyhead. Ready for a roadtrip?“ Isabella laughed at you. „Why am I even asking? You can't say no to anything I suggest, remember?“, she was grinning through the whole sentence.

You closed the window, with an unpleasant look on your face. Gave her the middle finger and immediately went to get ready. You were tiptoeing around your parents house, hoping to not wake them up. Although, you were sure, that the buzzer already awaken them.

//

„So, you're not seeing anyone?“ Isabella asked you after a few minutes of silence.

You were already on the road for half an hour, when you decided to stop at the nearest Starbucks for breakfast. You disliked that place, especially for the pathetic expensive thing they call coffee. But right now, you didn't have a choice, as everything else was still closed. At least, the croissants were okay.

„Well, not really. Apart from the few random one night stands from Tinder, no. Since the last boyfriend I had, a year and a half ago, I haven't found anything more permanent,“ you were explaining.

Bella giggled a little bit. „Oh yeah, I remember that guy. David, right? He had a weird rose tattoo on his arm and had his own clothing brand. I always knew there was something off with him. When you told me that he ghosted you and ran away to Iceland with his best friend, I was sad for you, but also relieved.“

You certainly didn't have any luck in the relationship department. The only two relationships you had both ended pretty tragically. There was this dude, who turned out to be gay, after ghosting you and posting pictures of him making out with his best friend and a colleague in one.

And then there was Thomas, the guy you dated throughout high school. Everything seemed great, you were the perfect couple. Then he auditioned for X-Factor with his friends and everything changed. He didn't have much time anymore and you grew cold towards him.

You both decided to break it off, right after graduation. You had other plans than being dragged around the world, as the guitarist's girlfriend, or patiently waiting at home for months. It's not like you stopped loving him, it just wasn't healthy for you. As the time passed, you lost contact with him over all. The last time you talked was right after his band won Eurovision. But apart from "Congrats!" and a few polite questions about life and work, your conversation didn't lead anywhere.

//

After a long day of driving around, countless stops at landmarks and a lot of money spent on food and coffee, you were driving back to Rome. Noodle was asleep in your lap and your old friend was speeding down the road, while the radio was playing.

„Thank you for taking me out on this trip. It was so much fun to remember our high school days and all of the places we used to go to. Sometimes I miss living here, to be honest.“ You opened up to Isabella.

„I'm also really glad we did this,“ Isabella nodded. „You have nothing to miss, it's really boring most of the time. You know, adult life is not as much fun.“

You nodded your head in agreement.

„But there's one more thing to do for us today.“ Isabella added, as she was pulling up on a familiar street. You were trying to remember why you seem to know it there.

When you saw a well-known face  standing in one of the doors, you immediately knew. It was Victoria, your HS classmate and a current bandmate of your ex boyfriend. This was where she lived.

Isabella stopped the car right in front of the house. „Our old friends are home as well! We're going to their party!“ she was practically screaming with excitement.

You weren't as happy about it.

„Are you mad? You think that I want to go to party hosted by my ex's best friend, where he's definitely going to be?“ you were furious. „Please, drive me home.“

„I think it's too late for that. Vic already saw us. Besides that, you promised to agree with all of my ideas today.“ Isabella was talking to you while packing all of her stuff into a purse. She picked Noodle up from your lap and opened the door.

„I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. Now, let's go!“ she exclaimed while getting out of her car.

„I hope I trip and die while getting out of the car, so I don't have to face this,“ you thought to yourself before finally opening the door on your side.

//

#maneskin #maneskin fic #thomas raggi #thomas raggi fic #fanfiction #maneskin fanfiction #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi imagine #maneskin imagine #damiano david #vic de angelis #ethan torchio

[emachinescat]

Febuwhump Day 13: Won't regain consciousness (unfinished, to be completed tomorrow!)

Fandom: Psych

So I'm still running a bit behind with Febuwhump, but I'm making it my goal to post whatever I do have written every day. The full story for Day 13 (possibly made up of multiple chapters, or maybe just a lengthy one-shot, unsure at this point) is going to fulfill a request for @justanotherdutch-asiangirl here on Tumblr. Also, if you recognize the name of the drug lord, I basically genderbent and borrowed it from The Magnus Archives. And the SEAL who saves Shawn is loosely based on Thomas Magnum from the Magnum P.I. reboot, just because that show's my newest hyperfixation lol. :) Anyway, like yesterday, if there are any errors, I'll fix them tomorrow when I post the whole story. And yes, Shawn *is* in a coma, even if the story doesn't say it yet, so it still counts for this prompt! Hopefully I'll find the time to get fully caught up on Febuwhump soon and won't fall farther behind! Life is a lot right now, so we'll see! Either way, I plan to post the full fic (or chapter 1, at least) on AO3 and share it here tomorrow, so stay tuned if you're interested!

Juliet

On a normal day, the drive from San Francisco to Santa Barbara took exactly four hours and fifty-five minutes. Today, it took Juliet O’Hara just under three and a half.

She’d been in court when Lassiter had called, waiting to testify in a trial for a murder case that she’d spent weeks cracking. When she’d checked the screen and seen her former partner’s ID, she’d slid the vibrating phone back into her purse. He had to be calling about dinner plans later that evening.

Juliet had actually convinced him to go on a double date with her and Shawn, a task that had been months in the making. She’d had to swear on the lives of her grandmother and both of her cats that Shawn would behave himself to get him to agree.

Five minutes later, her phone went off again. Rolling her eyes, Juliet undid the snap on her bag and peeked inside. Still Lassiter. What in the world was so important that he was trying to call her when he knew she was about to testify? Part of her worried that he was trying to back out of dinner, so she closed her purse and refocused on the trial. Like she would let him go back on his word now. If they just spend a little more time together outside of work, Juliet thought, maybe they can finally get over their pride and admit they’re friends. It was a long shot, but these were the two most important men in her life, and she was tired of being stuck in the middle all the time.

Not even a minute after, he called again. The old man sitting next to her shot her a disapproving look as she dug into her purse, ignored the call, and then tapped out a quick text: WHAT? I’m in court.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed again. Emergency. Call me now.

Gut twisting over on itself, heart hammering against her ribcage, she managed to type. About to testify. Can it wait?

It took less than thirty seconds for him to respond, but it felt like thirty minutes. She could barely unlock her screen when she got the notification, her fingers trembling and palms sweaty. She could feel her fight or flight instincts swelling inside of her, the inescapable need to do something, to get up, to leave, to call Lassiter then and there. But she maintained her composure, outwardly at least, and waited for the return text with all the patience of a high schooler at 2:45 on the day before summer break.

When she saw Lassiter’s response, her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was on her feet before she’d registered she was moving, and when the judge demanded an explanation, she stammered something about a family emergency and nearly tripped over her own feet racing to the exit.

No. It’s Shawn.

No other information, but Juliet knew that whatever had happened, it was bad. The only time Lassiter had ever called Shawn by his first name had been when he was in trouble. The Garth Longmore nightmare came immediately to mind.

She’d dialed before she’d even left the courthouse, and Lassiter picked up on the first ring. She rushed outside, away from prying ears, and demanded, sans greeting, “Is he okay?”

The short but heavy hesitation brought tears to her eyes. She already knew the answer. No way would Lassiter interrupt such an important trial just to change dinner plans or tattle on Shawn for some stupid prank.

Finally, Lassiter had answered, voice thick with an emotion Juliet couldn’t quite place, “He’s alive.” The way he said it didn’t inspire much hope or confidence. The tears crested, spilling down her cheeks in silent streams.

“What happened?”

Another pause, this one shorter but just as weighted. “It’s a long story. I don’t even know all of it myself. I’ll tell you what I can in a minute, but you probably need to square things with your trial first and head this way.”

If someone had taken a carving knife and hollowed out Juliet’s chest, it would have hurt less than Lassiter’s words. She choked on a sob, chest so tight it made her head spin. Get it together, she ordered herself, recognizing all too well the beginnings of a panic attack. She could break down later. Right now, she had to get to Santa Barbara. She had to get to Shawn.

So she had called Karen, who had already spoken to Lassiter, though she claimed to know nothing more than Juliet did at this point. Juliet couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, but she hadn’t pressed, especially when the chief told her to go, that she would take care of everything else and be on her own way to Santa Barbara as soon as she could. Juliet had tried to book a flight, but there were none that left soon enough, so she’d decided to drive.

For the first half hour of the trip, she’d talked to Lassiter, who had filled her in, more gently than Juliet had ever thought possible. From what he said, Shawn and Gus had been working on a private case. Shawn had come to the station poking around for information a couple of times, but they had been promptly shooed off. The man they were asking about had ties to vicious drug lord Nicholas Orsinov, and they had been told in no uncertain terms that if they kept pushing this dangerous matter, they wouldn’t see another SBPD case for the next two years.

As usual, Shawn hadn’t listened, not to Lassiter, not to Gus, not to his dad, all who told him to back off and refused to help. About two hours ago, the SBPD had gotten a call about a John Doe that had been spotted in the waves about a hundred feet from shore. By pure luck, the guy who found him was an ex-Navy SEAL and had managed to get the man to shore. The John Doe, of course, had been Shawn.

“The guy who found him’s a real hero,” Lassiter said seriously. “Realized Shawn still had a pulse, got him to shore using his surfboard as a stretcher, then called 911 and performed CPR until the ambulance arrived. Even came to the hospital to check up on him later.”

“But what the hell happened?” Juliet demanded, her whole body numb except for the swelling nausea in her gut.

“Best we can tell, Shawn decided to keep poking into Orsinov on his own, even after we told him to leave it alone, to find some other way to solve his case. Either Orsinov himself or some of his goons must have caught him, and decided to tie up any loose ends.” A pause. “I’d bet just about anything that it wasn’t Orsinov himself. He’s too smart to have left anything to chance. So that’s something to be grateful for, O’Hara. It could have been a bullet between the eyes, and there’s no coming back from that.”

As usual, Lassiter’s pep talks sucked. Even in her state of shock, with the swirling tide of grief and fury and terror pounding madly against her defenses, widening the cracks in her armor and threatening to tear her down from the inside, Juliet had enough awareness to realize that Lassiter wasn’t telling her everything.

“Look, O’Hara,” he said, discomfort clear in his voice. For a moment, Juliet felt sorry for him; this kind of emotional conversation was way outside of his wheelhouse. But they had been partners – were still partners, even if Lassiter was now chief and Juliet lived five hours away – and he had been the one to ID Shawn at the hospital, and she knew that he would never have delegated this phone call to anyone else, that Juliet needed to hear this from him. “You’re on the road, and you’re already upset enough. I really think it would be best–”

“I really think it would be best if you told me the truth,” Juliet snarled. She took a deep breath. It felt like her heart had been replaced by a lead weight. “I’m sorry, Carlton. But please, I need to know.”

#psych #fic #unfinished #to be continued #febuwhump 2022

[a-culture-thing]

Midnight Moon

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Haechan (Donghyuck) × Reader (Gender neutral)

Promt: With the help of the universe, you realise your true feelings for Haechan. The moment is surreal until his phone goes off due to a not so happy Renjun.

Song Rec: Midnight Moon - Oh Wonder

Warnings: One curse word is used lol

Word Count: 1.2k

A/n: I wrote this a while ago and I honestly don't know why I didn't post it but here you go! This is also the first fic I have posted. Feel free to leave a comment or ask any questions! Enjoy 💓

*GIF not mine, credit to original owner

___

It was never my intention. I had not planned on it. I most certainly had not added it to my agenda for that Saturday. Yet, there I was, falling deeper than the Mariana Trench for the boy huddled into my side.

I guess I couldn’t help it, not with his wispy lashes, irresistibly plump lips, and the moon illuminating his skin.

With the way that they reflected endlessly within his pupils, the stars must’ve wanted it to happen. Same with the wind that blew so delicately through his hair, as if he was a fragile house of cards. As well as the crickets whose hum seem to quiet the very moment we settled on the roof of my car. The universe was working harder than the devil to suffocate me with an overwhelming feeling of infatuation, it seemed.

I noticed the change in my feelings towards the boy when I felt myself holding in a breath as he giggled at a barely audible volume, staring back at me with a face bright with joy. It was just a second after that I realized that the desire to hold him close had always been there.

His head was resting on my shoulder when I decided to speak up about the sudden change of emotion.

“Hyuck?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” He hummed, beginning to caress my hand that laid limp in my lap. The warmth that radiated from his fingertips didn’t help my unsettling anxiety.

I let out a small chuckle while looking down to admire the sight of his sweet gesture, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy but…” I stopped myself, considering the consequences of what I was about to say. After concluding that there were too many to count, I spoke. Lowering my voice to that of a mouse, the confession almost came out as a tiny whimper, “I think I'm in love with you.”

“I know,” he scooted closer, nudging himself into my side.

“W-what?” I stammered, dumbfounded.

I was shaking my head in disbelief, looking down at him in complete shock. He, on the other hand, didn't move even the slightest bit, and in all honesty, looked quite bored with the situation he was in.

“Y/n, I’m not dumb. Well… not as dumb as you at least,” he flicked my thigh with a giggle. Sitting up, he faced the moon and spoke after a moment of silence, “You probably haven’t realized either have you?”

“Realized what?”

“That I love you, too, idiot,” He replied in a snarky tone while turning to give me a raised eyebrow.

“O-oh…” I could feel a heat creep onto my cheeks. Thank God for the shield of darkness the night provides, otherwise Haechan would be able to see the red that painted my cheeks.

He suddenly propped himself on his knees and rest his hands besides both of my hips, leaning in to be just inches away from my face.

“Well?” He huffed.

“Well... w-what?” I responded, as flustered as ever.

“Well aren’t you gonna kiss me, you fool?”

Gulping, I nodded.

My eyes flickered between his pair of doe ones and his pouty lips as I slowly leaned towards him, hesitating just before his awaiting mouth before dipping my head down to press our lips together. I did so gently and softly, so not only to avoid surprising him, but also to not ruin the serene moment.

I pulled away just to catch his reaction, and saw that a shy smile had replaced his disappointed frown from just a minute earlier. I found a small ounce of confidence in this, so I placed my hand on the back of his neck and gave him another subtle kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four, and until I realised he was no longer kneeling but hovering above me and out of breath.

To my surprise, he sat back and onto my lap. He gazed around at the golden field that surround my car and at the stars above us. Then closing his eyes he took a deep breath and slumped his shoulders.

I laid still underneath him after resting my palms on his thighs. I took the time to observe his beauty. And my goodness, did he look like a god made of honey.

Unfortunately, though, Hyuck's phone went off, causing the both of us to jump. His hands scrambled around his clothes to find which pocket he had left it in. Once finding it, he answered the call,

"What are you ruining my evening for, Renjun?"

"Yah! Not even saying hello to your hyung first?!"

Haechan didn't respond, glaring off into space although Renjun couldn't see him.

"... Okay well, I was calling to save you from the wrath of our manager. He's gonna be here soon to make sure none of us are out past curfew. If you don't get home in the next half hour you're gonna be in some deep shit, Haechan-ah,"

"Oh my god- I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THAT," Haechan stood up quickly and jumped off the roof of the car. "Y/n come on! You need to get me home RIGHT NOW!" He shouted.

I slid off the roof and got into the driver's seat, worriedly waiting for him to get in as I put the key in the ignition.

"You really need to start remembering these things-"

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you hyung, sorry for being rude, I'll be home soon! Bye!" He hung up, not wanting to waste another second. He rushed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Within a good 15 minutes I had him back at the dorms. As soon as he had opened the door he was bombarded by the scolding of a fuming Renjun.

"Lee Dong Hyuck, I shouldn't have to wake up at midnight when we have 3 interviews to do tomorrow, just to remind you of these things-"

"I know, I know hyung! I said I'm sorry. Okay? It won't happen again!"

"It better not! Where even were you?"

"That's none of your business Renjun..."

I chuckled lightly while standing behind the closed door, turning around to press my back onto the wall besides it. He had told me to wait there for a second before I left.

Finally, I was given a chance to process what had happened. Did I really confess to him? Had we really shared a kiss? Had we really been letting out our true emotions through touch and heavy breaths, pulling and gentle groping, underneath that midnight moon?

Eventually the arguing died down and I heard them bid each other a goodnight. Then Hyuck opened the front door just enough to poke his head out.

"I'm sorry for having to stop our night so early," he apologized.

I turned towards him and rest my head on the door frame. "It's alright," I smiled.

"Okay," he grinned back at me. "We can go again soon, maybe do a bit more kissing, huh? Haha!"

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that," I nodded.

"Alright then," he paused, gazing into my eyes. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight Hyuck,"

He swiftly stole a kiss before retreating into the dorm and closing the door.

I stood there for a moment, still unsure if the night had just been a dream. I then headed back to my car and drove away from the apartment complex and into the heart of Seoul.

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfic #haechan imagines #haechan fanfic #fluff #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck fanfic #donghyuck fluff #sm #sm entertainment #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #mine

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 1/25

* * *

[Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Next Chapter]

Summary: When the production stage manager for George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker, starring one Brittany S. Pierce, is fired seven shows into its run, Santana is hired and thrown into the production with barely any preparation.

Notes: So remember that little something for Christmas I mentioned back in November? Yeah, this is that. And by “little” I actually mean a 25 chapter fic I’ve been working on since October. This is why I haven’t posted anything for so long, because I’ve been working on this since then. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure that I’d be able to finish it, but here it is! I’ll be posting one chapter a day until Christmas, hopefully around the same time everyday but I can’t guarantee that for sure lol.

If you have any questions about the technical terms in the theatre just ask and I’ll try my best to answer! Obviously not everything will be perfect since most of my theatre experience is from the pit band and what I’ve learned from Broadway videos, but artistic liberties and all that. I’ll also be adding links to each chapter for the ones before and after once I post them too! So hopefully it will be easy to navigate on tumblr, and if not just go to ao3 or fanfiction lmao.

All chapter titles are from “Smile at Snow” by dodie.

Chapter 1: how were we to know

///

“Simpatico, it’s Italian for ‘sympathetic.’ Hearts beating to the same pulse. That’s what music does for one, you know—I mean, for two. For more. It trains hearts to lean in the same direction. Sympathetically.” ― Gregory Maguire, Hiddensee: A Tale of the Once and Future Nutcracker

///

When Santana accepted the job offer as production stage manager for The Nutcracker, a prestigious and professional production, she didn’t really think that she was going to be thrown right in the deep end; she assumed that the old production stage manager was taking a leave of absence and she would be able to shadow him for a couple days, not that he had been unexpectedly fired on Friday morning and that she would be shadowing the assistant stage manager for two shows on Saturday and running her first one by the Sunday matinee.

And yet, here she is, dodging half dressed dancers and props bigger than she is, only two hours before the matinee, trailing after two blonde women who are frantically talking on their phones, occasionally exchanging them before resuming their frantic conversations. Usually Santana thrives on the organized chaos of a production, but she can do little more than duck under stretching limbs and just try to keep track of the flashes of blonde ahead of her.

It’s not that she’s overwhelmed, per se, she’s done other ballets and she’s done Broadway, she’s done community theatre and she’s done a short stint for an opera, she’s done touring companies and she’s done Off-Broadway, she’s even done a couple other productions of The Nutcracker itself; she’s been working as a stage manager for years, and she’s damn good at her job. It’s just, usually she has weeks or months of rehearsals before a show begins; at the very least, she usually gets to meet the rest of the stage management team before she’s thrown in the deep-end for the first show.

Holly and Quinn, the director and the assistant stage manager, eventually make it to the call desk, a tiny little alcove just off stage right, with monitors on the front of the stage and the pit. There’s a man in a wheelchair already squished in the tiny space, his glasses slipping down his nose, staring intently at the screen and muttering into his headset.

“Artie,” Quinn greets, and the man offers her a half-hearted salute. “Artie,” Quinn repeats, waiting until the man finally glances up before she gestures to Santana, “This is Santana Lopez, the new production stage manager.”

Artie blinks and offers her a grin, reaching over to shake Santana’s hand, almost running over Holly’s foot in the tiny space. “Nice to meet you,” he says, “Your resume is a mile long.”

Santana shrugs as she shakes his hand; it’s a little clammy and she wipes her hand on her black jeans as subtly as she can as leans back. “It kinda has to be to land this job.”

Artie laughs and nods as Holly finally hangs up the phone. “I forgot how frantic this place is outside of rehearsals,” she groans. She rummages around on the tiny desk, much to Artie’s poorly-concealed annoyance as she displaces knickknacks and rearranges papers, until she produces Santana’s new prompt book. She passes it to Santana, who’s fingers are already itching to crack the spine of the binder and start writing her own notes in; Artie hands her a spare pen with a knowing grin. “Today’s show is going to be a little insane,” Holly explains, “But you’ll do fine, sweet cheeks. You have a steep learning curve.” Santana’s not really sure how Holly could possibly know that, seeing as the last time they worked together Santana was still in college and barely an assistant to the assistant stage manager, but she nods anyways. “I’m going to get Quinn to give you the tour while I get ready for the matinee, and then we’ll hole up in the stage manager’s office and go through the show from the screens in there. For the evening show—” Holly’s phone phone rings and cuts her off, and she groans as she answers it, waving Quinn and Santana off towards the vague direction of the rest of the theatre, and they take their cue to leave just as Holly starts getting heated with whatever poor soul is on the other end of the line.

Santana flips through the book as she trails after Quinn, half-listening to her explanations and introductions; it’s second nature to dodge props and racks of costumes and stretching dancers by this point, even in the dimmed lights of backstage, so she keeps most of her attention focused on reading through the calls even though she’s never actually seen the blocking. She inwardly groans, the next couple shows really are going to be absolutely insane.

When Quinn takes a breath in her explanation of the Christmas tree prop and the mechanical issues they’ve been having lately, Santana finally glances up from the prompt book. “So why didn’t they just promote you?” she asks, “Seems like it would have been easier that way.”

Quinn’s head whips around to glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. Santana glances up at Quinn and frowns at the look on her face. “Wow, cool the fires there, Beelzebub. I meant why would they hire someone new when you obviously know the show already.”

“Oh,” Quinn says, and she has the grace to look a little sheepish, “This is only the second production I’ve worked on, and it’s my first big one too. They offered, since I’ve been working with the show since the very beginning, but I’m nowhere near ready to run a production myself, especially something as big as this.”

Santana nods and returns to flipping through the prompt book while Quinn returns to narrate what seems to be the entire history of the theatre. It’s not like Santana’s uninterested in learning about how old this production is, or how they use the original props, or what famous person happened to sneeze right where they’re standing, it’s just priorities; Santana’s supposed to be running this production by tomorrow and she hasn’t even skimmed through the second act in the prompt book. Holly warned her that it would be crazy during her interview, because Holly had to be across the country for a mandated meeting tomorrow morning and would be leaving Santana, who only knew the names of about five people in the entire building, to fend for herself.

It’s not that she doesn’t love a good challenge, it’s just frustrating when her pay-check and reputation hinges on said challenge.

She ducks under a large candy cane swinging towards her head and groans at the thought.

//

Quinn leads her to the principal hallway, squeezing between stray dancers wandering the tiny hallway. The walls are lined with racks of costumes and wigs, and Santana takes a moment to admire the care put into the costumes; Quinn said that this production has been reusing their costumes from the very first performance, all the way back in 1954, and despite the slightly musty smell clinging to the fabric, they’ve obviously been well cared for. Quinn knocks on a door halfway down the hallway, and Santana quickly snaps out of her admiration to catch up to her. The name on the door reads The Nutcracker/The Prince, and a man Santana already knows well opens the door.

“Santana!” he exclaims, “I didn’t realize you were actually starting already!” Quinn blinks and glances between them, her face a picture of confusion, as Mike pulls Santana into a tight hug.

“You two know each other?” she asks slowly.

Santana rolls her eyes and halfheartedly struggles to escape from Mike’s embrace. “Unfortunately he’s been dating my best friend since college,” she complains as Mike finally releases her, but not before giving her an obnoxious kiss on the crown of her head. Santana swats at him a little but he just continues to grin at her; dating my best friend is an understatement of their relationship, because Santana counts him as one of two people she truly trusts with everything and anything, but it’s not like she’s going to acknowledge that when he’s being irritatingly affectionate just to annoy her.

Quinn’s hazel eyes glow with amusement. “Oh, so you’re the infamous Santana that Tina’s always talking about.”

“All bad things, I promise,” Tina calls from the couch.

“Oh, shut up,” Santana snipes as she turns a withering glare on her. Tina just rolls her eyes, as unfazed by Santana’s snark as she was their first day of college, and continues reading her magazine, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Alright,” Quinn says slowly, “Uh, I guess we should go meet Brittany then.”

“She’s not in yet,” Mike says. “She had that appointment, remember?”

“She said she’d be here in time for half hour,” Tina adds.

“Right,” Quinn shrugs and glances at Santana, “I guess you’ll meet her between shows then.”

“I mean, I still don’t know half the stage management team,” Santana says dryly, “One more person won’t make a difference.”

Tina chuckles. “Brittany’s just lucky that she doesn’t have to see your annoying face for a couple hours yet.”

“Get me out of here before we have to send the understudy on,” Santana comments mildly, Quinn grins and leads them out the door.

“Love you, Santana,” Tina and Mike chorus.

“Yeah, whatever,” she grumbles as she pulls the door shut firmly so they don’t see her begrudgingly fond smile; of course, being her best friends, they don’t need to see it to know it’s there.

//

Quinn weaves through the theatre and points out people that Santana’s sure she’s going to forget about in roughly three seconds. Usually by this point Santana has all the company and crew members memorized, but she’s starting to realize that this entire experience is going to be one stumbling improvisation after another for the first little bit. She meets the conductor, Will Schuester, who Quinn introduces as Schue; Kurt Hummel is the head of costumes and he talks rapid fire as he explains some important quick changes while Santana scribbles down notes in her prompt book; Finn Hudson and Noah “Puck” Puckerman, who leers at her and Quinn while Santana resists the urge to make fun of his nickname, work in props and are running the department while the head, Emma Pillsbury, is out sick; Quinn rolls her eyes when she introduces her to the sound crew and its head, Blaine Anderson, and the sound his voice already sets Santana’s teeth on edge; Unique Adams explains some of the more complicated lighting calls from her booth and Santana adds some more notes into her prompt book; Quinn points out the head of the automaton department, Dave Karofsky, who is busy wrestling with some of the ropes on a fly; Lauren Zizes is the fourth and final member of the stage management team, and she gives Santana a wide smirk and a good luck before turning back to talking to Artie over her headset.

Quinn also introduces her to some of the corps dancers and kids, but she doesn’t pay much attention because she has more important people to memorize before the show starts, like the name of every department head that she’s pretty sure she’s already forgotten.

Quinn hands her a headset with an apologetic glance. “I know it’s pretty overwhelming—”

“I’m not overwhelmed,” Santana protests automatically. Quinn just keeps staring at her blankly. “I’m a little bit whelmed at the most,” Santana finally concedes, and Quinn snorts in amusement.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says as the announcement booms throughout the theatre for half hour.

Santana settles the headset over her ears, and it eases her instantly; there’s a crackle of static as Quinn stands too close, but she quickly takes a couple steps away and then she grins at Santana, her teeth flashing eerie blue in the dim backstage lights. “I usually run stage right while Zizes does stage left, and Artie runs the call desk,” she explains. “I’m not sure where Holly is but—”

“In the stage manager’s office, sweet cheeks,” drawls through their headsets.

Quinn glances at Santana to point her in the right direction, but Santana is already heading that way.

//

Holly barely pauses in her near constant stream of phone calls to talk to her. It’s been years since Santana last worked with Holly as a director, back when Santana was just an overtired and overworked college student, but if she knows one thing about the older woman it’s that Holly’s practically a professional at improvising on the fly.

Which means she’s barely surprised when Holly explains that her flight got moved up and that Santana will have to learn the entire show from backstage with Quinn instead of from the comfort of the office where Holly could teach her the blocking over the screen pointed at centre stage. Santana’s done The Nutcracker three different times in three different cities, so she knows the show, which only marginally helps her out because every single production has its quirks, and she has absolutely no clue what to expect with this one.

But she tries not to think of that, and instead nods at Holly and adjusts her headset, clutching her prompt book like it’s a life preserver that’s going to keep her from drowning, which, she realizes, is actually fairly apt. She heads out of the hallway of theatre offices to find Quinn backstage, absently listening to her have an argument with that Blaine guy from sound over the headsets until Zizes interrupts with a particularly harsh quip regarding Blaine’s mother and where, exactly, he can stick it, and the argument dies pretty quickly after that. Quinn is pinching her nose when Santana arrives, only a couple minutes before the five minute call. She seems grateful that Santana’s there and pushes her headset off her ear for a brief moment, tugging the mic away from her mouth and waiting until Santana does the same. “The dance captain for the flower corps just called and she’s stuck on the subway in Brooklyn.”

Santana glances around. “Okay?” she says slowly.

“What do we do?”

Santana blinks at Quinn. “I barely know who the fuck any of these people are, what exactly do you expect me to do?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “This is a you problem, you’re the production stage manager.”

“For like a three minutes,” Santana mutters but flips through the prompt book anyways. “The flower corps don’t come in until the end of the second act,” Santana says slowly, “If she’s not here by intermission we’ll deal with it then.”

Quinn nods and pushes her headset back into place so she can relay the order to Zizes and Artie. Dancers have already started to gather in the wings, doing last minute stretches, and the team of stagehands Santana still hasn’t met yet dart between them for last minute checks. She spots the two lumbering guys from props heading towards the Christmas tree before they’re hidden behind the fly being lowered to the floor, and then the lights are dimming and the announcement to put cellphones away is booming, and the curtain rises as the first strains of the orchestra fill the theatre.

Santana’s thankful that she already has some experience with the show, because otherwise she would be making even less sense of the chaos backstage than she currently is. Santana mostly ignores Quinn, instead focusing on the blocking and comparing it to her prompt book in the dim, but somehow still harsh blue light backstage. Santana finds herself slipping easily into her position, and soon enough she’s adding her own voice to Quinn’s on the headset. Santana’s always had an instinct for stage management from her very first experience in a theatre, for the mechanical, repetitive, and yet still unpredictable nature of the job, and the instinct has served her well over the years, and before she knows it, intermission is starting and Quinn is clapping her on the shoulder with a grin.

Despite the chaos around them and the too warm weight of Quinn’s hand, Santana has a feeling she’s going to really like the challenge of this production; it will keep her busy and distracted, at the very least, which is something she always needs during the month of December.

//

Santana’s always found the second act of The Nutcracker to be a little boring without the frantic energy of the party and then the battle in the first act, and she feels almost lazy as Quinn helps herd children into place in the wings; they may be tiny professionals, but it’s only the eighth show so far, and the chaos of backstage can be a little overwhelming, especially for the younger dancers. It’s not until Quinn nudges her and points out the Sugar Plum Fairy, giggling and whispering with some kids, that Santana finally notices the presence of third principal. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is always the most interesting to Santana in the second act because the energy of the audience always changes and perks up as soon as that first pluck of the string section drifts through the theatre. Santana creeps closer to the front of the stage as the Sugar Plum Fairy, Brittany, leaves the safe darkness of backstage and emerges into the harsh onstage lights.

The strings pluck the first chord as Brittany enters the stage en pointe, her limbs long and poised with an easy grace, her stiff classic tutu moving easily with her waist as she makes her way to centre stage. On the first note of the celesta, Santana can see the exhilarated smile on Brittany’s face for a split second before she blinks and falls into character even before the second note is ringing out. She moves with the music as if the conductor is pulling on her puppet strings and Santana forgets to concentrate on the blocking and the musical cues in favour of just watching Brittany.

She looks like something off of a ballerina music box, beautiful and delicate, but as she spins across the stage Santana can see the strength and power in her legs, the certain grace and ease in her movements, the concentration and glow in her eyes. Santana’s seen a lot of dancers through her years of stage managing, enough to recognize that spark that differentiates people who dance for a living and for those who live to dance, and Santana can’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as Brittany draws to a stop and the crowd bursts into applause; having that spark in one of the principals is rare, and more than Santana could ever hope for in any production.

//

She manages to survive both shows with only a little bit of nausea at the thought that she’s supposed to be in charge of the entire production tomorrow; Holly left during intermission of the first show, but Quinn, Zizes, and Artie already work well together, and Santana just needs to find a way to fit herself among them without causing too much friction.

She wanders down the principal hallway, on her way to meet up with Tina before leaving the theatre, when she hears a persistent, loud banging against the wall right beside her. Santana jumps but manages to bite down on her shriek and glances wildly at the wall. The banging pauses for a second before resuming and Santana makes her way to the closest door, poking her head in without knocking; it’s not like anyone would hear her knock over the banging anyways.

She finds the Sugar Plum Fairy, her blonde hair still pinned up but dressed in loose sweats and a baggy sweater, smacking her ballet shoes against the wall with a focus Santana’s rarely seen in anyone, least of all in someone banging their shoe against a wall. Santana clears her throat and Brittany starts a little and quickly glances up.

“Hi,” she grins, giving the shoe one more firm smack against the wall, “You must be Santana.”

Santana swallows the retort on the tip of her tongue when the bluest eyes she’s ever seen land on hers, somehow sparkling even in the poor lighting of the dressing room. She manages a nod as Brittany bends her shoe a little before tossing it onto the coffee table where another shoe, a tiny sewing kit, a hot glue gun, an x-acto knife, and a small pile of resin are scattered. Santana glances at the wall, littered with tiny smudges of pink from Brittany’s banging, and laughs a little, finally realizing why Brittany’s beating the wall with her shoes so violently. “Who knew the Sugar Plum Fairy bangs her own shoes,” she says.

Brittany’s face creases in a smile, thin lips curling up a little lopsided on one side, her cheeks scrunching her blue eyes until they’re catlike and sparkling, and Santana’s chest does this weird spasming, fluttering thing that she tries to ignore. “Well, the Land of Sweets is pretty low on funds,” she says easily.

Santana laughs a little before she steps forward, holding out her hand. “Santana Lopez,” she formally introduces, “Mostly confused, new production stage manager.”

Brittany takes her hand, her fingers sure and strong as they wrap around Santana’s. “Brittany S. Pierce,” she says, “Sugar Plum Fairy and professional shoe banger.” Brittany’s nose wrinkles adorably as she realizes what she just said. “Ew, not like that.”

Santana giggles and only briefly wonders at how easily Brittany coaxed that sound out of her; usually it’s only Tina and Mike that make her comfortable enough to giggle instead of smirk, and that’s mostly because she’s known them for far too long, but there’s something easy about Brittany’s smile that already makes her drop her guard a little bit. “That wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing I’ve seen someone in the company bang,” Santana whispers.

Brittany’s eyes widen comically and she leans forwards eagerly. “Seen?” she exclaims.

Santana shudders, suddenly regretting that she brought it up when the image burned into her memory starts replaying for her. “Unfortunately.”

Brittany giggles and clasps her hands together, rocking backwards on her heels. “Like a train wreck, right?” she asks knowingly.

Santana blinks out of the memory, focusing on the much more pleasing image of Brittany’s sparkling eyes. “Definitely.”

Brittany laughs a little, relaxing again, and there’s a small lull that would normally make Santana fidget with her hands, but Brittany just smiles softly at her and Santana finds herself smiling in return. “So, are you ready for the shows tomorrow?” Brittany finally asks, her voice quiet and warm.

Santana shrugs. “They’re going to be,” she pauses and glances up at the ceiling as she thinks of the right word, “interesting, to say the least.”

The fingers of Brittany’s right hand twitch towards her arm, but freeze a moment later and drop back to her side. Santana wonders what it would feel like to have those clever fingers grazing over her skin, but manages to snap out of her daydreaming with only a little bit of heat in her checks when Brittany speaks again. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” she says easily, “I was talking to Quinn after the show and she was saying that you were a quick study.”

Santana blinks. “Really?” she wonders. It’s not that she thought Quinn would hate her or anything, but, in Santana’s experience, shoving a new person into the production this late always ends up having issues; when sometimes she covers for other stage managers there’s almost always a little bit of tension as everyone tries to adjust to each other.

Brittany nods easily, a small smile curling her lips. “She said that you fit in really well.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was so worried that everyone would hate me or something,” Santana says, before blinking in surprise. She hadn’t meant to admit that, she’s barely talked about her reservations regarding this job with Tina or Mike, yet somehow Brittany is on the receiving end of Santana’s sudden lack of a filter. “Um, you were amazing tonight, by the way,” she redirects quickly.

Pink blooms in splotches across the peak of Brittany’s cheeks despite the fact that Santana knows that this can’t be the first compliment that Brittany’s ever got. “Thanks,” she mumbles bashfully, and something in Santana’s chest twists when she realizes she really wants to see that blush again, and she’s about to go about doing just that when a voice interrupts them from the door.

“Santana?”

Brittany and Santana both turn to the door, finding Tina smirking from the doorway. Santana feels her face heat up for absolutely no reason as Tina’s eyes dart between her and Brittany. “I thought I heard you in here,” she explains, “I see you’ve finally met Brittany.”

Brittany brightens a little. “Your battle scene was great today,” she greets, “Sam said you actually nailed him in the eye.”

Tina laughs, her face opening and brightening at the compliment. “I threw it weird and didn’t even think I would hit him, but he slipped on his turn and instead of missing him I got him right in the face.”

Brittany grins. “Mike said it was glorious.”

Tina chuckles before glancing at Santana. “You coming? Mike’s already impatiently opened a bottle of wine at home to celebrate your first day.”

Santana hesitates. “There’s two shows tomorrow,” she protests weakly, “And I’ve gotta go through the prompt book a couple more times.”

“The matinee’s not until one,” Tina says easily, more than used to having to drag Santana away from her work.

Brittany glances back and forth between the two friends before settling her eyes on Santana, and the warmth in Brittany’s gaze makes that thing spasm in her chest again. “You only have one first day,” she says wisely.

Santana sighs and glances between the two. “Fine,” she mutters. Tina cheers from the doorway, but Brittany just gives her a quiet smile.

“Have fun,” Brittany says.

Santana sucks in a sharp breath through her nose before offering Brittany a small smile in return. “Thanks,” she murmurs, “See you tomorrow.”

Brittany waves her goodbyes to them as Tina drags her out of the dressing room, marching Santana to the stage manager’s office so they can collect Santana’s jacket and prompt book before she can change her mind and insist on going back to her apartment without celebratory drinks. Tina’s lucky enough to have a good parking space in the building’s parkade, being a principal and all, and they head to the elevators that will take them to the parking level in comfortable silence.

“So what do you think?” Tina says as she starts her car and backs out of her parking space. “How do you think it will go?”

“It’s going to be challenging,” Santana admits, “But, interesting, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santana bites her lip but once she realizes Tina is sufficiently distracted by watching traffic for her chance to pull out of the parkade her reluctance fades, “I have a good feeling about this show.”

Tina apparently wasn’t distracted as Santana thought she was and glances at Santana out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes curious and intrigued in the brightness of the streetlights and taillights around them. “Really? I haven’t heard you say that about a show in years,” she says carefully.

Blue eyes and a soft smile come unbidden to her mind, and Santana’s thankful for the darkness because it hides the blush she can feel creeping along her cheeks and the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I have a really good feeling about it.”

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) #trying to keep this under wraps has been Hard because Christmas is like my favourite time of year and I've been really excited to write this #also I don't actually know how big of a production this version of the nutcracker is #so I took some artistic liberties with the backstage crew #like some big productions on broadway will have a production stage manager #and then assistant stage managers who run the stage wings and the call desk #and then a team of stage hands #but that's for Big productions so we're going to pretend george balanchine's the nutcracker is that Big #because actually finding that info is Hard #also some shows have a cast a and cast b but george balanchine's doesn't Seem to from what I found online so that's what I went with