#something to celebrate me finally finishing this goddamn game!!!!

[beemot]

not leaving bed for a week!! [ray × gale]

#something to celebrate me finally finishing this goddamn game!!!! #i was never more happy to see the 'they got married and lived happily ever after' trope!! #this game broke me in places i didn't expect to be broken #but maybe i wasnt like.. in the right place mentally for a new thing to dive into 😑 #anyway im never playing it again (lie) #my draws #bwb23 #*ray × gale #now there are a couple of scenes from the game that i want to redraw 🤭

[justmeinadaze]

Ghost In The Machine (Eddie X You)

A/N: I wrote this a few days ago because I need it more than anything rn.

Title is based off of SZA's song "Ghost In The Machine".

"I give a fuck, I just wanna fuck, eat, sleep, love, happy Can you make me happy? Can you keep me happy?

Can you distract me from all the disaster? Can you touch on me and not call me after? Can you hate on me and mask it with laughter? Can you lead me to the ark? What's the password?

I need humanity You're like humanity"

They do text near the end. Eddie's texts will be in red.

Warnings: Daddy Dom Eddie X Stripper Sub (slight bratty) Fem Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, dry humping, phone smut, slight degrading if you squint, choking), Eddie is kinda mean at first, traumas are alluded to but not expanded on (Child abuse; bad past relationships), light FLUFF with my usual dash of the ANGST.

Word Count: 4060

Being asked to perform at parties like this wasn’t new for you and the other girls. Having the manager of a famous band reach out to your company for some “entertainment” wasn’t odd either. What was odd was that you were told Corroded Coffin had four band members and right now you were looking at three. They seemed content with the girls they had grinding and kissing on their lap so you decided to take a look around the mansion style home you guys had been called to. 

It was extremely beautiful with a bunch of rooms displaying different things. Your fingers grazed the wall at the bottom of the bands framed platinum and gold albums. Turning into what you assumed was a game room, you found a billiards table and a PlayStation with a mini bar in the corner. Around the area, shelfs prominently showed off the band’s awards and accolades with MANY pictures of them in different places. 

As you walked further down the hall, you passed an open-door smelling smoke and hearing light strumming of a guitar. Pausing, you took a couple of steps back to peer into the room, finding that missing fourth member.

He had headphones on over his long, wavy hair as a half-finished cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyes were closed as his fingers ran across the instruments strings as it leaned against his bare chest. His jeaned leg and barefoot tapped to a beat as he listened to his music. 

“Jesus Christ!”, he exclaimed as his eyes shot open feeling a change in the atmosphere. “What the fuck are you doing over here?! You girls are supposed to stay in the goddamn living room.”

“Hey there’s no reason to be rude! Your friends were preoccupied with the other ladies so I thought I’d look around.”

“Uh huh. To steal shit?”

“No! To look. I got bored, ok?!”

“Hm. A hooker who’s bored. That’s something I haven’t heard before.” His tone is dripping with mocking as he rises to his feet. 

“That’s no reason for you to be a fucking asshole!”

“You watch your mouth when you talk to me, little girl. I can make sure you and your ‘company’ never get another job again.”

“Oh, Mr. Tough Rockstar is oh no scary. Fuck you. I’ve handled way worse clients than the number 5 band on the billboard charts.”

The man’s held tilted to the side as he finally drank you in. You were visually different than what he expected when his friends had suggested reaching out to an agency to have some women come over to celebrate with since they were nominated for another Grammy. Eddie didn’t care about that kind of thing; he just wanted to play music. When he heard the car pull up, he immediately disappeared to his room to practice and write some new songs. Not that he wasn’t interested in “entertaining a woman”. This metalhead liked a challenge and he enjoyed even more a strong woman that wouldn’t just cater to his every whim. He didn’t want a woman who would get down on her knees no questions asked. Eddie wanted one who would tell him to fuck off but then after a few consensual activities would be dripping and begging for his cock.

Women were offered to him and his friends constantly. He wanted something he had to earn so that way when she finally submitted, it was all the more sweet.

“What’s your name?”, he asked in a much softer tone.

“Y/N. You?”

“Are you asking to be polite or do you genuinely not know who the guitarist of the band who is number five on the billboard charts?”

“Do you always make things this complicated?”

“Yes.” When he grins at you, you can’t help but smile back.

“Some of the other ladies find catering to a man’s ego really gets them going. I find it’s better to ask them questions, Mr. Munson, especially since most of our clients think we don’t care about them.”

“Do you? Care I mean.”

“Sometimes.”, you shrug. 

“You’re honest. I like that.”

“I don’t really see the point in lying if I’m probably never going to see you again.”

“Do you WANT to see me again?”

This time it was your turn to tilt your head. He said that with a lot of the sass he had been giving you since he saw you but something else was behind his eyes when he spoke, something lonely. Your palm reached out confidently, landing on the bulge in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his size. The part of him that was against your hand wasn’t even all of him and you gulped as you tried to regain your confident composure. 

“Do you want me to help you feel better now, Mr. Munson?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”, the guitarist mused as he stepped forward, placing his own palm against the wall behind you and trapping you against it. “I hate when my questions go unanswered.”

“You-you must be used to disappointment then.”

His nose grazed yours, grinning a big tooth filled smile before his eyes flicked down to your hand on his cock.

“You must be to, Y/N.” Slowly, his fingers trace down your arm and take hold of your wrist as he holds it still. “Be honest. Have you ever felt a dick as big as mine?” 

You licked your lips as his hips began grinding against your palm, trying to push down the moan that wanted to escape. 

 “Ooo someone’s confident.”, you jest. Something in his look changes as the hand on the wall behind you slides down to your throat. In most situations with your other clients this would be a time to panic but he wasn’t gripping you violently. When his fingers firmly pressed into your skin, your brain felt fuzzy as your pussy clenched around nothing. 

“I’d say I’ve earned the right to be confident. Now, Y/N, this your one warning. Answer the questions I ask you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Mr. Munson. I understand. N-no. I’ve never felt a dick like yours.”

He smirked as he pressed your palm harder against him. “Good girl.” Your let out a sigh when he released his hold on your neck to push some of your hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, Y/N. Fuck and your hand feels so good. I can only imagine how the rest of you feels.”

“You don’t have to imagine. You can have me if you want me.”

Eddie’s smirk grows as he bites his bottom lip. “Honestly, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more but…that’s not how I play. I don’t want you to fuck me because you’re paid to.” He leans in till his lips are right by your ear. “I want you to fuck me because you want to…need me to.” You hear his breathing stutter as he moves his hips faster, his grip on your wrist tightening. “Beg me to.”

“Oh fuck…”, you whimpered at his words. His movements become choppy and grunts before you feel dampness on his jeans. 

He leans back placing his forehead on yours as he licks his lips and softly smiles. “See, what would usually happen now is I’d make you cum to. I bet that pussy is just aching to be touched but see…you’re getting to paid to make us feel good…not the other way around.”

You’re honestly too stunned to say anything or fight back with your typical brand of sass. Right now, all you can think of his him and how bad you need something from him; anything. 

“Can…can I kiss you?”

When he nods, you waste no time connecting your lips to his. You immediately taste the nicotine but that undertone of him has you dizzy. All too quickly, it’s over as he pulls away. He doesn’t just move his head but his whole body as he backs towards his bed, yanking off his now stained jeans and boxers.

“How long are you ladies here for?”, he asks nonchalantly as he sits on the bed and picks up his guitar again. 

“Huh? Oh, um, 2 AM I think.”

He glances at his phone before handing it to you. “Time’s almost up. Put your number in there for me.”

Eddie said it like a command and your instinct was to say something snarky but as you looked down at him strumming his instrument without looking at you, you realized there was more to this man than meets the eye. Most men who begged for your number always watched you intently to make sure you actually did it, you assumed. Of course, you gave them a fake number or the number to the agency you worked for but with this man here his head remained lowered. It was almost like he was afraid you wouldn’t…like he really hoped you would and would be hurt if he watched you decline, giving the phone back. 

There was something about Eddie that you wanted to know more about. He wasn’t like everyone else you had been around. For some reason, you felt like you could trust him. 

After inputting your real number, you placed his device back on his nightstand and sat beside him. “We still have 45 minutes. Can I ask what you’re working on?”

His eyes shoot over to you as he cautiously scans your soft smiling face. “We’re working on this new album and Jeff has this song he wrote but I can’t find the right sound. I was just messing around and recording them to see if it sparked something.”

“May I hear what you have so far?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He reached over, grabbing an extra set of headphones and placed them over you head. You grinned as different guitar riffs and melodies began to play. 

“This is all you?” Eddie nods. “Wow. Mr. Munson, you are definitely talented.”

When he pauses the recording and you slide the headphones around your neck. “You can call me Eddie if you’d like.”

“Okay, Eddie.” After putting the headphones over your ears again, he pressed play and you both leaned back in his bed. 

He couldn’t help but be a little shocked that you didn’t try to touch him again. Anywhere he or his band went, people tried to touch his body whether it was meet and greets, walking through the street, or even on stage when overzealous fans would jump on and run at them. Any girl that was lucky enough to be in his bed would insist on touching him until she left as if she knew this would be the last time she saw him. That’s another reason he struggled to maintain any kind of relationship. Besides the crazy rockstar life, he never was keen on being constantly touched. 

He got enough of that with his career and when he was growing up when his dad would knock him around. With his last relationship, they fought constantly because there were times he would come home from a long day and just wanted a moment to decompress alone. He knew she meant well but even after nicely asking her to give him a moment she would still try and wrap her arms around him or try and kiss parts of his body.

What he didn’t know yet was that you understood that feeling all too well. Being in your line of work, men seemed to believe you didn’t even have a line they shouldn’t cross, always touching some part of your body until their time was up. When you were just a stripper at the company you worked for, men were the same but at least you had a bouncer to quickly pulled them back. When times got hard and you told your boss you were willing to sign up for the “side hustle”, it was just you and the girls. 

No one had ever gotten too physical like that but after your client came you just wanted them to roll over and crash or just leave you there till the timer was up. Personally, you chose to stay away from relationships knowing most men wouldn’t like your line of business. Men constantly offered to “save you” but you knew it was all talk. They didn’t really care about you. 

When you moved to the city, you promised you were only going to look out for yourself. You took care of you and had for a long time. The last time you relinquished control like that, you got burned and ran all the way to a new state. 

A small hand tapped your knee and you jumped before realizing it was one of the other girls letting you know time was up. 

“Ok, I’ll be right there.” You turn to Eddie and hand him his headphones. “I really like what you have so far. That last one was beautiful.”

“Thank you. Here, um, let me grab my sweatpants and I can walk you out.”

“Oh, Eddie, no. You don’t have to do that. It’s super late and in your gated front yard I don’t think anyone is going to jump us.”, you giggle. 

“Ok…I’m going to put on pants anyway though because I want to hug you if that’s alright.” Without waiting for an answer, he finds a pair on the floor and pulls them up just below his hips. 

“Do arms not work without sweats?”

“They do but I don’t want to be disrespectful by rubbing my dick on you and making you uncomfortable.”

“Didn’t I just…”

“You made that move, sweetheart. You put your hand on me.”, he grins as he places his body in front of yours. “May I hug you?”

When you nod, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest as your own limbs cling to his upper torso. This was a new feeling for you. It had been so long since you felt safe in someone’s arms. His hand petted your hair as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ll talk to you later to make sure you’re alright.”

***

You sighed as you entered your front door, putting away your things, and throwing yourself on your bed as you closed your eyes. A sudden ding on your phone made your eyebrows scrunch as you blindly searched for it on your bed. Swiping it open, you noticed it was from an unknown number but as you read the message, a smile slowly formed on your face. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just checking in to make sure you got home alright.”

“Are you stalking me, Mr. Munson? Lol. I literally just walked in the door.”

Tossing your phone back on the bed, you figure it will most likely take him awhile to respond but as you go to your closet to change you hear that familiar ding.

“Yup. You caught me. I followed you home.”

“Shit. I just realized that’s probably not a joke I should be making in your line of work.”

“I was just thinking about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Lol Eddie! If I thought you were like that I wouldn’t have given you my number : ) “

“I’m alright though. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now so you can sleep.”

“I actually wasn’t going to go to sleep just yet.” 

You paused for a moment debating on if you should tell him what you were going to do before bed. You were hoping if you did maybe he would talk to you like he did in his bedroom. Hearing him murmur his words and what he said got you wetter than anything else. You could still feel your slick sticking to your legs after you changed your clothes. Hell, it couldn’t hurt, right?

“I just got back from spending some time with this long haired rockstar with a huge cock who got me all hot and bothered so I was going to relieve some of this pressure here.”

You watched the dots on his end appear and disappear. The longer it took him the more nervous you got. Had you crossed a line?

“Don’t talk like that. Be upfront and honest. Talk to me like a big girl. What were you going to do before bed, Y/N?”

You could almost feel his stern eyes through the screen as you rubbed your thighs together. 

“I was going to touch myself and think of you.”

His name suddenly popped up on your phone and you didn’t hesitate to answer the call. 

“Hey Eddie.”

“Are you still wearing what you had on here?”

“No. I’m naked now.”

“Liar.”

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“Call me back when you’re ready to be a good girl.”

Your jaw dropped as he hung up and you huffed as you called him backed. “How dare you—”

“I don’t play games like that, little girl, and I hate liars. I figured since I got you all riled up and you are no longer on the clock maybe I could help you out. I also thought it would be fucking sexy to hear what you sound like when you cum. But if you want to cop an attitude with me, I can treat you how bratty little girls deserve to be treated. Now…what are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt with my panties from earlier.”

He could hear your pout through the phone and it was making him hard all over again. 

“Good. Good girl. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I just… I always have to be SEXY; you know? God forbid I show any humanity.”

“Not with me, princess. I imagine you look just as sexy now as you did looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes against my bedroom wall."

“Thank you, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course. Now tell me, baby. You said you were going to touch yourself and think of me. What about me?”

“I was thinking about the way your lips tasted when you kissed me…so good.”

“The cigarette taste didn’t bother you?”, he chuckled making you smile as one of your hands roamed up your shirt to touch your breast. 

“No. Not at all.”, you giggle back, biting your bottom lip. 

“That’s good. I’ve had some complaints.” You can hear him smile and your fingers run along your nipple as your exhale heavily. “What are you doing over there, honey?”

“I’m playing with my tits.”

“Mmm. You did have some perfect tits. Well, from what I saw under that tight ass tank top.”

That makes you genuinely laugh and his smile grows at the sound. “What else were you going to think about?”

Your hand slides under the waistband of your panties as your finger slides through your dripping folds. 

“I was going to think about your thick cock against my palm and the way you rubbed against it.”

“Yeah? You’re going to imagine me doing that right now between those gorgeous legs? Grinding my dick against your pretty little pussy.”

“F-fuck, Eddie.” Your eyes rolled back as two of your fingers breached your entrance. “Please…keep talking to me…like that.”

“You like the way I talk to you? Was that something else you were going to think about? Picturing me whispering in your ear like I did when you were here?”

You didn’t know but he was leading you somewhere. There was one thing he wanted, needed to hear you say on your own. As soon as he heard it, he was yours and he would do anything to make you his. 

“Yes, I liked hearing you say the things you said.”

Eddie could hear you touching yourself and your little moans were driving him crazy as he quickly pulled down his pants. 

“Princess, is it ok if I touch myself to?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course. A-are you—mmm—still a bit sensitive?” The sound of him spitting in his hand had you clench tightly as you whimpered. 

“Ah, no, baby girl. But with those sexy fucking whimpers and groans I’m not going to last long.”, he chuckled. “How many fingers are you using?” You barely heard him as you thumb began messaging your clit. “I asked you something, sweetheart. What did I say when you were here?”

“If-if—mmm—you ask…me…something I-I answer.”

“Good girl. Tell me how many fingers you’re using.”

“Fuck…two. Two, Daddy.”

Eddie practically growled with pleasure at the word that he had been praying would fall from your lips. 

“Jesus, yes. Good fucking girl. I want you to use three. You…you have to prepare that pretty pussy for… Daddy’s big cock.”

As soon as you did as he asked, the English language completely escaped your mind. 

“I…your…oh my…” He grunted in your ear reminding you of when he was pressed against you sending you toppling over the edge as you came hard. The sound was almost too much for him as he pictured your cunt spasming around him as you moaned his name just as you had. For the second time that night you made him cum as his spend shot out and hit his stomach. 

“Are you ok?”, you mumbled, drunk off your orgasm.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m alright. Are you?”

“I’ve never called anyone Daddy before.” You had no idea why you were being so honest with him. That wasn’t necessarily something he needed to know but for some reason you thought maybe the knowledge of that would make him feel special. You wanted him to feel good. 

“What made you say it now?”

You scoot your body further into your bed as you curl up into your sheets.

“I feel safe with you. I know that sounds so weird. We barely even know each other but I do…”

You listened to the soothing sound of his breath into the phone as he absorbed what you were saying. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

“I can handle the asshole.” You smile when you hear him softly laugh. 

“On Friday, we’re going to be spending some time at the recording studio. Do you want come by and listen to us play?”

“I would love to but I have to work Friday night.”

“How about you come by in the afternoon and then go to work? Are you…um…”

“No, side business Friday. I’ll just be dancing.”

“Ok, cool. Maybe when we’re done, I can meet up with you after.”

“Eddie…I like you a lot but are you sure you want to do this? I strip and I have sex for money. I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed of it either. I’m doing what I have to do right now.”

He was silent for a moment as he thought about what you were saying. 

“Y/N, I’m not perfect. I’ve been arrested, gotten into fights with paparazzi, and like I said I can be a bit of an asshole. I like you a lot to but I understand that this is all new. You and I lead interesting lives. I’m not…going to harp on you and I’m not going to, I don’t know, offer to fucking save you or whatever other douchebags say.” You laugh making him smile. “But I would like to take care of you…physically, mentally, emotionally…financially.”

“I don’t know how to give up control like that.”

The way you say that makes him want to scoop you up in his arms and cradle you into his chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow.”

“Can I come over so we can talk? We’re doing this stupid photoshoot thing but I can come over after and bring some food. Of course, only if you’re comfortable. That’s all that really matters to me, baby girl. I want you to be comfortable.”

You don’t know why but you believed him when he said it. What was it about this man that had you breaking all your normal rules?  Not just rules with the business but in your life. You had been on your own for so long that you didn’t need nor want to become involved with someone. However, it would be nice to have someone take care of you for once…

“Okay, Daddy”

#dom eddie munson #daddy eddie munson #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn smut #fan fiction #eddie x reader #joseph quinn fluff #spotify #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #Spotify #sub reader #brat reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

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He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration.  The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing.  Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn.  He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes.  You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other.  But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this. 

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you? 

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner. 

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip. 

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup." 

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt." 

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up. 

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you? 

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact. 

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling. 

"There, all better?" He smirked. 

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him. 

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?" 

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too." 

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull. 

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right." 

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.  

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way.  The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face. 

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak. 

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you. 

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke. 

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you." 

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?" 

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes. 

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress. 

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him. 

"Come here." 

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.  

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying. 

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him. 

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word. 

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."  He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper. 

"Terrified, actually." He admitted. 

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know." 

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though." 

"Hmmm?" You hummed. 

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him. 

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you. 

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon. 

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful. 

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one. 

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now. 

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face. 

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later. 

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple." 

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face. 

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him. 

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks. 

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all." 

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap. 

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head. 

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's. 

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face. 

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up. 

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read. 

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully. 

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face. 

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you. 

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region." 

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?" 

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one. 

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day." 

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently. 

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.   

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party. 

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow. 

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him. 

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them. 

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him. 

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict. 

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.  

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet. 

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?" 

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose. 

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically. 

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner." 

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like. 

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted. 

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that. 

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed. 

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word. 

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?" 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I." 

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible." 

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk. 

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?" 

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon." 

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen." 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid." 

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago." 

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels." 

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?" 

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me." 

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon." 

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile. 

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here. 

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through. 

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell. 

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed. 

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?" 

"Just taking a moment."  You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment. 

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage." 

"Hmm?" You hummed. 

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security." 

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration. 

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him. 

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?" 

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss. 

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said. 

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you. 

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently. 

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over. 

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time." 

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.  

Read Part VI here

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion

[merge-conflict]

year in review

2023 is on its way out, and it's been... a year. First full year that I've actually been active on social media (i.e. not just lurking), and first time in fandom.

My first fic of the year? when her edges soften – the longer I wrote for Valentine and the more her relationship with Johnny got weird and intimate and full of casual innuendo the more I needed to write something where they were reunited. Also my first ever experience writing smut and self-indulgently adding a whole fencing scene. Goddamn that was fun! Feels like it's older than a year.

My favorite fic of the year? thread-safe – I became engrossed with cyberpunk because of Jackie but I imprinted hard on Takemura after that traumatic heist mission and perhaps the rest is history. Valentine's story has had a lot of tinkering and reworking and it was the thing that got me back into writing, but the original story in my head was something bittersweet and angry and grieving, one night only no encores, parting badly– and I finally was able to capture that in thread-safe and it feels so good.

Most fun experiments?? There are several of these. When I got stuck and discouraged and tired of working on the longfic and plotting things out I ended up working out a "shenanigans au" (fleeting fits of reason) where I could put Johnny and Kerry and V (and Alt and Rogue it turns out) together and just have them interact without plot. Well the plot crept in, but writing some loosely connected 1-1.5k pieces focused on a single scene or idea with minimal polish was incredibly freeing. Then I recorded some of my own podfic! I wrote a chapter of thread-safe in second-person! I wrote imago and decided to incorporate pieces of it into my longfic. Playing around like this has really kept writing fun for me when I don't have the concentration to play the long game.

Additional musings and personal reflections under the cut:

2023 the year sucked ass. It has been god awful. Just the fucking worst! Cyberhanami was in February? March? I remember finishing up some of my prompts that week while I was in another state with friends who were out and about while I was in bed too nauseated and weak to move. Writing was the only thing keeping me from going insane. My health has been shoddy, I had to cancel a much anticipated two weeks of international travel, spent at least two week long periods this year with anxiety so intense it made me almost physically incapable of eating. I had an incredibly expensive panic attack, and the world... things have been better!

I find it difficult to be honest about that sort of thing– my primary instinct is Not To Talk About any of that shit, because well... it's personal! And I handle reassurance about as well as I handle compliments (awkwardly. half in panic. friendly self-deprecation). But it feels disingenuous to celebrate accomplishments without acknowledging the yawning abyss we all struggle with from time to time. I remain cynically optimistic, as always, and I'm seriously grateful for all the connections and shared art and braincells and excitable messages, especially from folks tolerating my tendency to ramble onto tangents and use an oddly formal tone. I don't know what I'm doing, but who does? It comes easier with practice. It has to, right?

See you cool cats in 2024. :3 😼

#cyberpunk 2077 #year in review #for auld lang syne #seriously though everyone who's ever interacted with me even briefly– I appreciate being a part of the community and connecting #it ain't perfect but it's ours y'know? #also as someone who's horribly time blind it is nice to look back on a year and have date and timestamps and posts #to prove that I was here and doing stuff and it wasn't just a weird blur #highly recommend :3

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

finished bg3. overall, a phenomenal game. perhaps the greatest game i've ever played. but i do feel like the ending was a little weak. the final battle was really easy but that could just be because my character is op as fuck. but still, it was a lot of fun being able to call in all your allies and just slaughter enemies together.

maybe spoilers ahead

i saved the city because i'm a big goddamn hero but i really feel like i should have had more time with my companions. i think there should have been a whole epilogue or something. just you and your companions having a night of celebration or something. having some final conversations, reflecting on your journey together, and saying your goodbyes where appropriate. maybe something about how each of their lives play out after. and maybe some moment of remembrance for the companions that died or went their separate ways.

after the big battle i only had like 30 seconds to share a line or two of dialogue with a few my party members (not even all of them) and that's it. it feels rushed and out of character for a game that was otherwise full of emotional depth. like...i didn't even get to speak with karlach. me and all my companions were talking and then we were about to leave to celebrate and wyll was like "wait!! where's karlach!" or something like that and everyone looked panicked but then it just cut to another scene with me and shadowheart. never found out what happened with karlach. but i'm assuming she dies? lmao i don't know.

but it's also possible that i just missed something because the last part was pretty buggy and it seemed like it skipped over a couple cutscenes. i guess i'll have to go watch a youtube video to see the different endings.

anyway i hope they make a bunch of expansions. there is limitless potential for additional content. and obviously i'm looking forward to whatever sequel they eventually make. this game is really something special. i am definitely going to replay it. sometimes i see clips of other people's playthroughs and i'm realizing there is still so much shit that i missed out on. and i thought i was being thorough!

but yeah between the gale and the crown of karsus and karlach and zariel and the emperor and all of those other cities mentioned in the game and the portals in the house of hope and so on, there are lots of possibilities for expansions that i can imagine. i really would love to see more of avernus. the house of hope was maybe my favorite part of the game. really fascinating place. it reminded me of the haunted mansion ride at disneyland.

anyway, great game. amazing game. highly highly recommend to anyone who is into fantasy rpgs.

[infinitethree]

OOC::

It took ten goddamned months, scrapping upwards of 15k worth of prose, and Innit deciding to evolve itself out of fucking NOWHERE

But bastard lad's bastard backstory is finally going live! There's still technically four chapters not done, but they're all in the back half. There are 30 chapters and currently about 72k of prose. The actual working doc is much closer to 80k.

Updates will be every Mon-Wed-Fri until it ends on November 30th.

My goal was to have this fic fully written before I published a single word of it. I didn't quite manage that, but it's pretty close. Of the four chapters not fully written, three have significant portions done. The remaining one is the epilogue (which has already had two or three iterations). There's a summary of what I want to happen, but if I can't fight my ornery muse to make her cooperate within a month or so I'll scrap it again and do something entirely different.

I wanted it out on or near September 24th because that marks a year since I wrote the first doc that wound up becoming chapter one of "Two Talks With Rather Different Tones".

...Which was started and finished on the same day.

I've been writing for sixteen years, but...never fandom content, and never solo. I didn't think I was capable of doing either until I tripped and stumbled ass-backwards into writing Day and Theo (my beloveds).

So a year of writing fic feels very, very special to me. I wanted to finally share my absolute favorite character, crown prince of bastards, Daz. I hope by the end, everyone better understands why I love him so much. I also hope there's wailing and sobbing.

To celebrate this year of fic writing, I'm doing three contest/scavenger hunt/guessing game type deals. They're all a bit different but the premise for each is similar:

Figure out a piece of information and win writing.

The one for "Blood & Gold" can only have one winner, but the ones for the "Mostly Benevolent" series and the askblog can have multiple ones.

For here, though, there's some interesting facets. One of those is that the prize isn't really set in stone. Like you gotta be reasonable about it and you do have to pick something related to my writing, but the winners get to ask for something of their own choosing.

If you're interested in participating, the contests can be found in this folder.

The askblog has secrets that nobody has come anywhere close to figuring out. Part of that is because there's really only Noodley who gives me questions, and they already know those secrets.

#FicUpdates #CocoChaos #Noodley also just sent in some more questions #so look forward to all that #but also please give me questions of your own #I would LOVE to interact with more people #just not at the cost of main tagging all of this #listen I love c!Tommy but Inniters scare me #and I'm like 99.5% sure the more...passionate...ones would hate my guts for Day and Daz #and all the other sympathetic Dreams

[divine-mistake]

it's messy inside, let me take your coat

Summary: “I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut, female nudity), strong language, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of fluff, soft and nervous Bucky Barnes, original female character friends, one-night stand, body insecurity, anxiety

Word Count: 8723

A/N: This story was written for @eurynome827 and her 2k follower challenge with the prompt "Mimosas and Bloody Marys at brunch." Thank you for hosting and congrats again on your milestone!

main masterlist | AO3

“Cheers!”

The flutes clink together, orange juice sloshing and spilling and dripping down the glasses and onto the table as your giggles fade into the background noise of the café’s patio. You tip your head back as you drink, mimosas bubbly in your throat like your own happiness, threatening to pour out of you and dribble onto your shirt, already tipsy.

“God,” Carissa says, throwing herself back into the metal chair, “I cannot wait to have his babies.”

Beside her, Kora claps. “I can’t wait to be an aunt! I’m going to spoil them all so rotten you’re going to want to throttle me by the end of it.”

“Spoil them all you want, I’m having eight of ‘em.”

At that, you go ahead and polish off your drink, carbonation stinging your throat, and while you set the empty glass down your hand goes up in the air, signaling the waiter for another.

Sara points at you. “I’m with her.” She makes a face at Carissa. “If you have eight kids I will make like your dad and bounce.”

Kora slaps her on the knee but the four of you descend into laughter anyway, and it’s easy and light and beautiful, like always. Washington D.C. can be pretty in this way—iron-wrought fencing and fancy metal tables and red patio tiling. Good food, better mimosas, best friends. There’s a breeze in the air that’s calling for autumn, scattering cloth napkins sitting in laps and spreading the scent of fresh baked bread.

The bags at your feet carrying your new shoes for the winter wedding that’s approaching rustle. That feeling isn’t just D.C. It’s excitement and love and adoration, too.

Carissa, bride to be, catches you in her gaze. “When are you going to finally settle down, huh?” She gestures across the table at you with her half-filled mimosa. Everyone else looks at you too, waiting for your response.

You shrug. “You’re having plenty of babies, I don’t need any.”

“I don’t mean babies,” she says. “I mean a human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment.”

“You need—no, you deserve—someone to take care of you!” Kora adds. “You’re always taking care of everyone. Don’t you want someone to, y’know, take care of you?”

“I have plenty of vibrators in my empty apartment.”

Sara snorts, covering her mouth. The waiter delivers another round, thank god.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, sighing. “You’re just bothering me ‘cause it’s wedding season and you want to set me up with your weird—”

“He’s not weird,” Carissa interrupts. “He’s tall and he’s mysterious which is exactly your type.”

“She’ll find someone when the time is right,” Sara says. “Just ‘cause we’re happy with our boyfriends doesn’t mean she needs one to be happy.”

“Thank you, Sara, my one-true-best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world.” You force your glass against hers in a loud clank, turning the heads of all the patrons on the café’s patio before taking a gulp. Your face is already getting a little hot, the alcohol hitting you. This is why you aren’t allowed to pregame before you go to brunch anymore.

“We’re not trying to force you,” Kora starts, but her mouth is pulled into a concerned frown. “We really do just want you to be as happy as we are, that’s all.”

You smile at her. “I know.”

And you do know. You understand. It’s been years now since you’ve had anything real—anything worthwhile, to be specific. At some point, the relationships slowed down. Boyfriends became friends with benefits when you were working on your masters. Friends with benefits became ignored booty calls at two in the morning when you started your dissertation, on the road to get your doctorate. Now, you’re lucky to go home with someone from the bar, and they never, ever, come home with you.

It’s okay. You aren’t lonely. The right person just hasn’t landed in your lap, and maybe that’s kind of because it’s not open, but it’s just ‘cause you’re busy. You’re busy. Passionate. Need to change the world.

Love can wait.

The next mimosa is finished and you’re feeling a little fuzzy.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell Carissa. “I’m happy for all of you, and I’m happy with my life, and I’m happy that we’re all together and we’re celebrating and I’m happy that you all care about me enough to worry but I’m perfectly fine with how things are.”

Carissa smiles, but it’s got too much teeth. “I could set you up with Kie—”

“No, no setting me up with Kieran or Harry or Josh or anyone. But especially not Kieran.”

You’d already fucked him once and it wasn’t worth the experience.

“Fine! Fine.” Carissa busies herself with her drink. “No setting you up with Kieran.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about the reception!” You pull out your phone and open the planning spreadsheet, smiling. “So I called the venue for you about the tables…”

This is easier. Planning Carissa’s wedding, helping support her, being excited for her—that’s easier than talking about your love life. If anything, this is your love life. Taking care of the people you love, your best friends, having fun and being together and romanticizing the time you spend with them. It’s not just mimosas over brunch and a green spreadsheet for wedding planning. With them, it’s the wind in your hair and the sun making your eyes sparkle and the alcohol making all your insides feel effervescent.

It’s love. It’s perfection. It’s your own brand of happiness.

And sure, maybe it’s a little defensive, but this is easier than loving someone and trying to make them love you. It’s easier.

“Whose dress are we still waiting on?” Carissa asks a little later, mouth full of avocado and bacon and looking very un-bridely.

“Mine,” Kora says, a little guiltily. “It’s at the tailor getting taken in—again.”

“I have mine,” you pipe up, wiping your mouth of jam. “And god, do I look like a full course Michelin star meal in that piece. Like, we’re talking ass for days, legs for days, tits for—”

“Excuse me, ma’am, excuse me.” A man, towering over the café table makes himself known, dressed in dark clothes and wearing a look on his visage that you can’t name.

“—days,” you finish, swallowing hard.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says with a smile, “but I’m raising money for uh, breast cancer awareness, and I was hoping you would donate and sign up for uh, a marathon we’re doing.”

You blink. “Sorry,” you tell him, “but we don’t carry cash on us.” With a small smile, you nod at him, your eyes passing over your friends and looking around the café to see if any of the other patrons have noticed what’s going on. None of them look bothered.

“Not even for breast cancer awareness? C’mon, girl.”

“We don’t carry cash,” Sara repeats with a deadpan, but her eyes don’t meet his.

He doesn’t look at her either, content to stare at you, and your skin crawls.

“What about signing up for the marathon?”

“Fine,” you snap. Anything to get him to leave you all alone. “How do I sign up?”

“You give me your phone number and I’ll text you the details.” His grin is a little wider now, edging a little closer to where you sit at the table. You’re regretting that third mimosa. You aren’t on your game. The panic running through you is covered in a champagne haze.

You scoff. “No way.” Immediately you grab your purse, digging through it, and you slam a handful of loose change onto the table in front of him. “Here—a donation. Now please leave.”

His face twists into a scowl, but he scoops the money off the table and pockets it.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch,” he suddenly says, and anger courses through you until you shoot up from your seat, chair skidding behind you. He’s tall—much taller than your short stature. But, fuck it, the alcohol’s dimming the fear and fueling the need for you to protect your friends.

When you glance over, Carissa is already gathering the bags, eyes wide. Kora has her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to make herself smaller, ready to run. Sara’s phone is in her hand, 9-1-1 already dialed.

And still, no one in the café is doing a goddamn thing.

“Excuse me?” You glare up at the man.

“I just wanted your number, you fat bitch.” He sneers. “No wonder you’ve got an attitude, you obviously don’t get laid.”

Really, you can sit there and say it isn’t the fat comment. It’s not the insult. You’re used to that, with your overly-generous curves and your soft jawline and the fact that you’re wearing a skirt showing off the cellulite running through your thighs like a creek and a crop top that lets everyone peek at your stretch marks. You’re used to it.

And, really, you could handle this better. You certainly have before ‘cause this isn’t the first time you’ve been hustled or the first time some creep has hit on you. Old men have been slapping your ass in public since you were sixteen. You’re hot, you get it. If you saw yourself on the street you’d want a piece of your own goddamn ass, too. It comes with the territory, but it’s gross. And it’s sad but you’re used to it. So it’s not him calling you a fat bitch.

It’s the comment about getting laid. It’s sore as fuck.

You grab your would-be fourth mimosa and drench him in it, the glass slipping from your fingers and shattering upon the patio’s tiled floor in an instant.

“Slut!” The man lunges for you and you jump away, bumping into the table and losing your footing. You fall to the ground as glass comes crashing down around you, spilling sweet-smelling alcohol all over you. Ouch. Your friends scream, but you can’t take your eyes off him.

And then a gleam of black and gold blurs past you and grabs the creep by his neck, throwing him down. Now, a tall, wide body dressed in a dark hoodie is blocking you, guarding you, sheltering you.

“Try it,” Mystery Savior says.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Carissa chants, calling your name.

Your hand is sticky when you wave her away. “Get out of here, I’m fine. Just go. I’ll meet you—meet you at Kora’s.”

“We’re not leaving you!” Sara shouts, but something, maybe adrenaline or fear or fucking champagne, is running through your blood vessels at high speed.

“Just go!” you scream back at her. “I’m not fucking kidding, go!”

Because if there is one redeemable thing about you, it’s the length you’ll go to keep the people you love safe. And Mystery Savior might have just choked a creep out for you, but he also choked a creep out for you, and that’s enough to get your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t know who the good guy is—if there even is a good guy here.

“Fuck,” the creep curses, but it comes out raspy as he grasps at his quickly bruising neck. “You’re a—” he wheezes, “—you’re a murderer!”

Mystery Savior holds up his hands, and that’s when you see it. The black and gold of a vibranium arm just peeking out of the sleeve of his hoodie.

This isn’t a murderer. Not a Mystery Savior either. This is James Bucky Barnes, the Avenger, holy shit. Definitely good guy. Probably. He’s reformed, the news talks about it.

“Caught me,” he says, voice monotone. “What are you gonna do about it?”

If you weren’t currently sprawled on the ground, covered in mimosa, and panicking wildly about whatever is unfolding right in front of you, the very buzzed part of your brain would really appreciate the smoothness of Bucky’s voice when he said that, the cool, calm, collected delivery.

You’ll file it in the back of your mind for when you go back to your empty apartment.

“That fat ass ain’t worth it,” the creep chokes out, scrambling to get up. As soon as he’s on his feet, poised to take off, Bucky moves faster than you could have imagined and grabs the guy by his shirt.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” You can’t see his face, but you think Bucky might be smiling.

A portly man, a little shorter than Bucky, pushes through the gathering crowd, eyes wide and panicked, face red, already sweating. When you glance at his golden nametag, it reads: Jason, Manager. Cool that the manager showed up this late. If Bucky hadn’t stepped in, you’d probably be in a pile of limbs on the ground by now. Also—is he going to comp your bill? ‘Cause at this point, you’re starting to think you deserve it.

Okay, not a good time to be distracted.

“Thank you for getting him, sir,” the manager says, a little breathless. “Winter Soldier, sir.”

“It’s Bucky,” he says, and then he shoves the creep toward the manager. “Not sure why you didn’t step in before he got violent.”

Exactly! Why did everyone just stand around and do nothing as some six-foot man hustled the four women sitting beside the street? You glance around again, seeing your friends have disappeared and now, both the wait staff and other café patrons, are crowded around your table. It’s a little unsettling how no one cared to even look at you until everything escalated.

As the manager grabs the creep and hauls him off toward the street to wait for the cops, Bucky Barnes relaxes his shoulders and turns toward you slowly, and it’s—well, for lack of a better word—it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

He looks nothing like the superhero in the pictures. Here, with the D.C. sun hitting him unabashedly, his slate eyes like glass marbles, the lines surrounding them wrinkled in concern, his tongue darting between his lips to wet the skin where his teeth bite down, a habitual sore, his short locks ruffled by the breeze or maybe the fight or maybe he just wakes up perfectly rumpled, here he looks like a man.

“You okay?” he asks, somehow nonchalant and still worried, and he holds out a calloused hand to you.

Or, well, maybe Bucky had been watching. And maybe that’s enough.

God, you don’t even know this man outside of his Avenger persona, the headlines you read on the news, the pictures you see on social media, but there’s just something about him that makes you want to trust him. Like he guarantees safety, and you know that no one, least of all an Avenger, can guarantee safety. Even if that’s their job.

Stop feeling safe around him.

But you take his hand anyway, his long, thick fingers folding over your own like he means to swallow them, and Bucky pulls you up as though you weigh nothing. In fact, he does it so easily that you crash straight into him with a yelp and his arms instantly slide around your waist to catch you as your knees go weak, buckling beneath you.

When you look up at him, your hands trying to find purchase in the material of his hoodie, he’s staring down at you with the hint of a smile.

“Thanks,” you say, quiet and a little stunned.

His lips crack a little wider. “No problem.”

For a few seconds longer than deemed socially appropriate, you stare at Bucky, captured by the changing color of his blue-gray eyes. And then, as if god is slapping you on the back of your head, you blink and remember that you are covered in alcohol and currently pressed against the chest of a superhero, and your eyes go wide as you quickly push away from him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m disgusting—you probably have orange juice all over you now, fuck.”

“Hey,” he says, his flesh hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you, “it’s okay. Seriously though, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something and then shut it again when you realize nothing sounds like the right answer. Bucky waits patiently though, peering down at you, his grip a little more grounding than you wish it was.

“Yes?” you say, but it sounds like a question. “I mean, maybe? I’m—It’s not like I’m not used to this happening. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky frowns. “Used to it?”

You shrug. “Not all men are superheroes. Most don’t have good intentions. And I’m not even that pretty, can you imagine what other women deal with?”

It slips out before you realize it, the self-hatred you keep at bay.

“Not pretty?” Bucky’s face twists into something confused. “That guy assaulted you just to get your number. I’m not saying it’s right, but if you think you aren’t pretty, well that’s just wrong.”

Oh god, what are you supposed to say now? So stupid. If you had just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have forced an Avenger—a really fucking hot Avenger—to give you an awkward compliment and now you have to scramble to figure out what to say. If you deny the compliment, you’ll look ungrateful. If you accept the compliment, that’s too egotistical. Too into yourself.

You’ve backed yourself into a corner here, and Bucky’s on the other side of the ring.

“Look,” he interrupts your inner monologuing, running a hand through his hair and glancing away, “if you don’t mind me saying it, you’re—well—you’re gorgeous. I hope you know that.”

Your mouth falls open and you stare at him, nervous energy radiating off him, and when his eyes shift back to yours he coughs.

“I mean, don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not—I’m not trying to hit on you after what just happened, I promise.” His eyes go wide, then, and he throws his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “That’s not to say I’m not! Not hitting on you. I mean, shit, I just think you’ve gotta be the most beautiful dame—woman, sorry—that I’ve seen in years.”

There’s something soft about it, something sweetly suffocating, like buttercream frosting in the back of your throat, about his nervousness. The gentle panic, the way his eyes go back and forth from the ground at your feet to your eyes like he’s checking to make sure he hasn’t said the wrong thing, but he just keeps putting his foot in his mouth like it’s a magnet to metal. It’s endearing. It’s real.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?” you blurt out, and Bucky blanches. “I know it’s only, like, noon but I need a drink. And I owe you. For saving me.”

He relaxes at this, another one of those small smiles easing its way onto his face, and his shoves his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t just panicking two seconds ago about calling you a dame, which if anyone else had done, you would have socked them in the mouth, but he’s like one-hundred-and-six or something and you kinda get it.

“The drinks you’re wearing ain’t enough, doll?”

A laugh breaks from your mouth and he lights up, grinning.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You can’t help the smile splitting your own lips. “Sure, make fun of the girl who just got hustled, easy prey.”

The way he looks at you is burning.

“I’m Bucky,” he says. “James Bucky Barnes.”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. When you give him your name, he almost looks like he wants to try it out, but he keeps it on his tongue like he’s tasting it instead.

“So, a drink?” he asks, a little cautiously.

“I’d like that.” Then, you look down and curse. “But I’m gross. I really need to go home and change.”

Bucky nods, but a look of disappointment crosses his face, there and then gone again, just enough to make your heart tighten into a painful brick weight atop your chest. Everything in your brain is saying no, don’t do it, don’t do it. But your heart hurts and it hurts for him, a man you’ve only met in news articles and awkward interviews until now, when he’s saved you from being slapped around by some creep or worse, and god, you have such a soft heart sometimes and it’s gotten you in trouble before but you can’t just ignore it.

“Do you like Bloody Marys?”

His eyes meet yours again and you’re drawn into the storm that swirls in his irises once again.

“Never had one,” he admits. “They don’t look much like a drink.”

“Well, if you’re interested, I have the stuff to make a really good one at home. And then I could change and clean up a little and still y’know, thank you for saving my life? I mean it’s not much, but—”

“Yes,” he says, his voice as sure and steady as it was earlier when he was in hero mode. “That sounds great.”

Oh, you’re fucked. You’re so fucked.

The walk back to your apartment isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not easy. Bucky walks beside you like a forcefield, using his body to guide you through the throng of people walking along the streets without even touching you. He reminds you of a sheepdog. The thought almost makes you laugh more than a few times during your stroll.

He walks with his hands in his pockets most of the way, especially his metal one. And he isn’t much of a talker, not that you mind as long as he keeps answering the questions you’re asking him, like what kind of food he likes and what he thinks about sphynx cats and if he likes memes—of which his answers consist of anything, what the hell is that and why is it naked, and a resounding yes.

Bucky asks some of his own questions, though they are few and far between and a lot more cohesive and meaningful than your own. He asks about how long you’ve lived in Washington D.C., about what you do for a living, and about your friends.

“Why did they leave you there?” He’s staring at you when he asks, brows sharp and furrowed.

“Because I told them to,” you answer. “I didn’t want them to get hurt or anything. And I’m kind of the person that if I’m yelling, you better listen ‘cause I’m usually yelling for a good reason.”

He nods like he understands, but his lips are pressed flat. “They shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrug. “I wanted them to. I would’ve been more pissed if they hadn’t run off and gotten tangled up in the middle of everything.”

“You’re a good person,” he says, still looking at you. His face is softer, that hint of a curve in his mouth the only sign that anything’s changed.

You give him your own smile. “Maybe.”

It’s only once you get to the front door of your apartment that things shift and your stomach rolls, heavy and fluttering light all at once, a not-so-familiar-anymore anxiety chilling your skin. The keys in your hand jingle and you aren’t sure if it's because your fingers are shaking or not.

“It’s not much,” you say, beckoning him inside, “but y’know, it’s enough for me.”

Bucky steps through the door with a reverence, a caution, a carefulness that strikes you right in the heart. He looks out of place for a minute, like he’s never entered an apartment before. And then, as you kick off your shoes, losing the extra inch of height, smiling and gesturing for him to do the same, there’s something in him that snaps and bends and his shoulders fall, relaxed.

He toes off his boots, leaving them by the door, and suddenly there’s a different air in the apartment. Almost intimate. Comfortable.

Stop it. You don’t even know him.

“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? A glass of water or something?”

Bucky shakes his head as he follows behind you, slowly, his eyes roaming over your space. It’s really not much, you know that. A little more than a box with a bathroom and a bedroom attached, what with the living room and the kitchen being “open-concept,” a word you’re pretty sure was invented to sell tiny apartments for more money. You don’t even have a table to sit at—just a couch to plunk down on while you’re eating.

“I’m alright, doll,” he says, running a hand over the soft cushions of said couch. “You go change, I’m fine.”

As soon as you disappear into your bedroom, the door locked behind you, you lean against the wood and let out a sigh. This is awkward. What the fuck were you thinking? Asking an Avenger—Bucky Barnes—back to your apartment for a drink? A bloody mary? Who are you trying to kid?

It’s been years, literal years since you’ve invited anyone back to your apartment. In fact, you don’t think anyone besides your friends has even stepped foot inside. Maybe they haven’t even made it to the door.

Why would you invite him here?

In frustration, you strip your dirty shirt off and throw it onto the floor, shimmy-ing out of your skirt and kicking it toward the hamper just as well. You sort through your drawers, looking for something comfortable to throw on. Or maybe you should wear something nice? Something that looks similar to what you wore to brunch. But Bucky’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie. But he also looks like a modern god in just that.

Fuck. You are fucked. Why did you ask him back to your place for a drink? What did you think would happen?

You throw an old band t-shirt over your head and pull a black pair of loose shorts up over your hips, cursing when you realize they don’t even hit mid-thigh. Does that seem suggestive? Is Bucky going to think you want to fuck him if you walk out in these?

Do you want to fuck Bucky?

No. No. This is not what this is about. You invited him over because you owed him a drink and because you needed to change and because he seemed so damn sad when you said you couldn’t go out for a drink. So you asked him to come home with you. Oh, god, that’s so complicated. What have you gotten yourself into?

Stop. Just stop thinking.

But—you have to admit it to yourself—you want it. You want him.

Your friends’ earlier words repeat in your head. A human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment. They aren’t wrong for thinking that it’s something you want. For most of your life, you’ve lived thinking that you shouldn’t need someone. But isn’t it okay to want someone? You’re tired of being alone. Bucky Barnes is the first man that’s been in your empty apartment since you moved in, and maybe it’s a bold move, but you know what?

You throw yourself out of your bedroom, probably looking a little too frazzled, and you quickly comb your fingers through your hair as nonchalantly as possible to fix the flyaways. Bucky’s sitting on your couch, looking lonely, his hands rigid on his spread knees.

He looks like he fits there, on your sofa, in your empty apartment.

“Look,” you say in a breath, catching his attention. When he looks at you, his eyes sweep over your body like he’s never seen a woman before; shy, timid, a little nervous, but there’s something else there. It’s the same thing that’s heating your insides right now.

“I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”

Bucky’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then a cocky grin is curling his lips up, his face brightening the entire apartment. You don’t know if your body is warm because you’re embarrassed at your own daring or because Bucky Barnes is so beautiful it’s criminal, but you know that there’s static and stretch in your limbs and desire pooling in your belly. Liquor and lust are chasing away whatever fears you had before.

“Really?” he asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that reminds you of what a fucking flirt he is, or that he can be, and you think butterflies might be taking up residence in your tummy.

“Really,” you mimic, wearing your own charmed smile. Bucky lets his head fall to the side as he looks over you, then crooks one metal finger at you, beckoning you to join him on the couch. With as much confidence as you can muster, you stride toward him, putting a little swing in your steps. Maybe you look crazy doing it, but it’s enough that his eyes flicker down to watch your hips, and it sends a thrill through you.

“This isn’t like me,” you tell him as you sink down beside him, as close as possible while still giving him space to bolt if he needs to. “I don’t invite strangers over to my house like this.”

He smiles and it’s warm and big and easy. “I’m glad you did,” he says.

God, his eyes are pretty. “Me too.”

With Bucky’s thigh pressed against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to one of your bare knees, knuckles brushing your skin every time he shifts, you’re melting into his touch and you don’t care. It’s intoxicating—not the alcohol, which you swear should be wearing off by now, but him.

“I don’t do this often,” you say again, like you need to defend your bold behavior.

“Does that mean I’m special?”

“I think so,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear being this close.

Kinder than you thought possible, somehow simultaneously suave but still a little nervous, and yet authentic to a fault, Bucky Barnes is a thousand and one contradictions. Nothing like you ever thought he’d be. And maybe that’s what gives you the courage, the thought that someone so hardened could be so soft. That someone who looks like him, chiseled and striking and like a charcoal sketching on stark paper, could turn red at your innuendos and your charmed quips. That there’s a chance he could be attracted to you.

This—This is the connection you’ve been waiting for. The person who makes you feel like this. Tipsy when you shouldn’t be tipsy anymore.

“I know we barely know each other, but I really, really want you, Bucky.”

Your shoulder is pressed to his shoulder, your chest nearing his chest, your chin tipped up to stare at his eyes, his nose, his parted lips. Bucky stares down at you, his Adam’s apple dipping and bobbing as he swallows hard. Your lips curl, threatening to giggle. He’s so damn cute. How can someone like him, an Avenger, a super soldier, look so cute?

But the hand at your knee finally creeps up your skin, his hot palm glossing over your bare thigh, resting a little higher than a friendly touch would go. He presses indents—not too hard, but not too soft—into your plush, silken flesh.

“You do?” he asks, tongue darting out to wet his lip and you want to follow it back into his mouth with your own.

To answer, you push closer, your hand coming up to drape across his neck, a little off-balance as you sit up on your knees.

“Mhm,” you hum, and that’s all he needs to grasp your thigh roughly and drag you over him, seating you upon his lap as a squeak of surprise flies from your lips. His hands fall to your hips as if your body was made for him to hold and suddenly you’re looking down at him and he’s looking up at you instead, and god, he’s staring at you like you’re heaven and earth and everything he ever needed to be saved.

“I want you too,” he says, exhaling as if you’ve stolen all the air in his lungs.

“Then will you finally kiss me?” Your nose brushes his and his breath ghosts over your mouth.

Bucky’s lips surge up to meet yours, swallowing the last sounds of your words like it’s the first drink of water he’s had in years, cool and refreshing and tinged with smoke, something uniquely him.

As your hands thread through his short locks, desperate to hold onto him in any way, his fingers begin to curve over your ass. You rock into him, pressing against him harder, sucking at his plush lips as his tongue skims over your top lip until you grant him entry. Bucky kisses like he’s trying to taste every single part of you and it sends waves of pleasure through your belly and to your core, where you grind down until you feel his hardening length beneath you.

Immediately, you start to strip him of his hoodie, divesting him of that layer to feel the soft shirt beneath—but only barely because it’s hell trying to pull his hands away from where they’re touching you.

And he’s touching you everywhere. His fingers roam over every generous piece of your body. The silken planes of your thighs where he’s pushed your shorts up, the wide canyons of your hips, the bumpy hills of your waist where your stomach is too big and too soft and where he slips his mismatched hands under your shirt to trace the lines of your stretch marks. It isn’t long until he brushes by the band of your bra and then he’s tugging at the hem of the shirt, pulling away from your lips long enough to rid you of it.

You take the moment to rid him of his too, and then you’re both topless, still sitting atop his lap and panting from lack of air. No words are shared between you before Bucky is capturing your mouth again. It’s only passion, frenzied and hot and wanting.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra blindly as your teeth sink into his bottom lip, nipping and giggling and tangling your tongue around his. As soon as you hear the snap, you lean back and Bucky pulls it off you, flinging the offending garment somewhere else in the apartment.

Now, with your naked chest completely bared to him, you wait for it to happen. For his eyes to dart away, for the apprehension to cross his features, for the disgust to set it. The real reason that it’s been so long since you’ve invited someone into your empty apartment—into your empty life.

You’re scared.

Like you’re expecting the blow, you close your eyes and brace yourself, but you don’t cover up. You’ve learned not to cover up. You refuse to make yourself smaller, or prettier, or more tolerable for people. It’s why you don’t get entangled with one-night stands anymore, why you don’t ask strangers to come home with you, why you don’t let your girlfriends set you up with anyone. Because you refuse to make yourself something you’re not just to fit in, and that’s what always, always ends up happening.

Bucky touches you and it makes you flinch, his vibranium fingers a little chilly against the soft, warm skin of your stomach. He touches you and it’s electric, but you don’t open your eyes.

You’re too afraid to look and see the disappointment in his gorgeous blues.

His hands skim over your rib cage, sliding around the sides of your waist, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. You shiver at the contact. He continues his trail upwards, but then he lays his palms on your shoulders and caresses over your neck, his fingers finally finding the edge of your soft jaw to cradle your face. A shaky breath leaves you.

“Look at me,” he whispers, closer than you thought.

And no matter how much you’ll berate yourself over it later, there is something so safe about Bucky Barnes that your lashes flutter and your eyes open, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, staring at you with those stormy sea eyes half-lidded and glazed over with lust, his pink lips parted in awe, and you gasp at the intensity that strikes right through the center of you.

“You’re…” he trails off, swallowing nervously again. “Doll, I don’t think I know a word in English that describes you.”

Bucky presses forward, his chest brushing against your hardened nipples, stealing your breath and then sealing your lips with a kiss that isn’t like before. This kiss isn’t needy or wanting or filled with teeth and tongue and desperation. This time, his mouth moves with yours as if he’s trying to spell out a thousand words in twenty different languages to tell you how he feels, his lips leading yours in a dance that isn’t worried about an audience or the music or if you step on his toes.

When he pulls away, you wonder if your mouth is as swollen as his.

“You’re perfect,” he says with a finality in his tone that almost makes you collapse into his arms.

Then, Bucky wastes no time and captures a nipple in between those swollen lips, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud noise in surprise. His metal hand finds your other breast, thumb stroking over the bud until you’re arching further into him. As his tongue traces patterns around one nipple, his fingers tweak and twist and pull its sister, and your hands grasp his broad shoulders in an attempt to hold on.

Finally, he presses gentle kisses over your rosy buds, all worn out by his touches, and then circles your breasts with more kitten licks and grazes of his teeth. Bucky’s hands settle at your hips again, fingers grasping your skin like he can’t get enough of the feel of you. He’s trying to imprint your body on his palms.

“I need to have you, doll,” he says all breathy as if he isn’t the one absolutely drenched right now. “Please. Please,” he asks so softly that you wonder if this is the man who even came to your rescue today, all tall and brooding. When you grind down on his lap again, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans as he lets out a groan and tightens his grip on your waist, you realize you’re not the only one feeling the tension.

Still, there’s something cheeky left in you and you reach out to swipe your finger across his nose, effectively booping it cutely. A grin splits your lips.

“You need me?” you ask teasingly. “What if I need you instead?”

It’s like it sets something ablaze in him or something, ‘cause as soon as you go in for another kiss, Bucky stands up from the couch, his hands cradling your ass as you shriek and wrap your legs around him in reflex.

“Oh my god—”

“Now you’ve done it,” he grunts, burying his face in your neck to pepper kisses all over the stretch of skin that encompasses your shoulder, your jawline, even up into your hairline by your ear.

“Oh my god, put me down Bucky, I’m—you’re gonna drop me, I’m too heavy!”

“Heavy?” He chuckles against your throat and the vibrations almost make you shudder in pleasure. God, what is this man doing to you? “Darlin’, I don’t think you know the meaning of heavy.”

Bucky flashes you a wide, almost predatory grin, and you wonder where that soft, nervous boy went.

“If I wanted to,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I could fuck you right here, in the middle of the room, for hours.” He must feel the shiver that goes through your entire body because he’s laughing again. “But I want to fuck you into your mattress if that’s okay. Can I do that?”

Your throat feels dry when you whisper, “Yes. Please.”

He punctuates your plea with a heated kiss to your lips, his tongue tasting the citrus and bubble from your mimosas, the alcohol long since worn off. It’s all him that you feel, all him that intoxicates you, and all him around you as he walks you into your bedroom, not even straining under your weight, and dumps you onto the middle of your sheets.

There, he cages you, hovering above you to kiss down your body, already intent on tearing your shorts off.

“Bucky,” you whine. In the afternoon light streaming through the single window in your room, his eyes are a startling color you wish you could name, all clear and confident and crystal and god, god, his fingers are already exploring the slit of your core so lightly it makes you flush and want to hide, your inner thighs sticky and coated in your own slick from how hot he’s made you with such simple touches.

“You want me?” he asks as if he doesn’t know.

“Yes,” you hiss in pleasure, body writhing beneath him. Bucky leans down to kiss the shell of your ear, his tongue blazing a hot trail that makes you moan and buck your hips up to meet his, but he won’t have any of that.

“Good,” he says, “‘cause I need to have you, and I don’t plan on letting you go ‘till I’ve gotten everything you’ve got to give, doll.”

That nervous Bucky, all awkward smiles and panicked glances and sweet lines, he’s gone. In his place is this Bucky, assured and charming and suave and smooth and making your eyes roll back into your head until a scream is threatening to burst from your lips unless he swallows it with his own kiss, which he does, over and over again.

“I’m gonna ravage you, darlin’.”

You aren’t sure which one you like better—but is it greedy to say both?

As the light of a new day spreads through your apartment, you awaken easily, softly, but painfully. Someone’s pulled the blankets up to your chin and tucked them around you, and the thought leaves an empty feeling inside of you. When you stretch, every part of you burns deliciously, a memory from the hours spent in bed, on the couch, on the fucking counter after you’d eaten and he still wasn’t satisfied, and then again in bed.

And now, looking over at the space beside you, he’s gone. His clothes are gone from the floor. There’s no sound echoing in the building. He even left you tucked in, for god’s sake.

Your apartment is just as it always has been—empty.

With a groan, you kick the covers off and plant your feet on the floor, willing yourself to get up. The ache in your muscles is nothing more than a pleasant memory, an unpleasant reminder of the marks he left on you, his absence.

Stop it. You shouldn’t have even gotten attached to him in the first place. You knew what this was, and he did too, and it’s no wonder he’s gone this morning.

Get over it.

You swipe an oversized shirt from your dresser and throw it over your head as you stride out toward the kitchen, content to go pantyless for the day after the abuse you put it through last night. Yawning, your eyes screwed shut in another big stretch to warm up your overused muscles, you hear him before you see him.

“Mornin’, doll.”

Like that, your eyes snap open and he’s there, standing in your tiny kitchen in nothing but last night’s boxers, looking fucking glorious in the spotlight of the warm sun that’s streaming through the room and highlighting the counters.

“Bucky?” you ask, but it’s a little loud and a little shrieking, something you don’t intend. But all he does is smile at you, metal fingers tapping the plastic countertop, so at ease he just looks like he belongs there.

“I thought I’d make you breakfast but you have nothing in your fridge,” he jokes, leaning back against the drawers and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

You shift, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah, I need to go shopping.”

A long stretch of silence fills your apartment and you’re unsure of what to say in order to break it. Bucky’s clearly watching you, drinking in the sight of your love-marked body, bruises peeking out of the hem of your shirt that barely skims past the tops of your thighs, and you remember you’re wearing nothing underneath.

And he’s here, right here, and you really aren’t sure why. It seems the two of you have almost switched places. Where Bucky was nervous and shy at first, he’s now confident and comfortable and you’re left with heated cheeks and a tongue-tied in knots. Whatever boldness that came over you all yesterday has fled.

It’s left a deep pocket of insecurity inside of you.

“Why are you still here?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, like you don’t care, but your voice shakes a little. He’s too far away to really tell, but you think a flash of hurt passes over Bucky’s brow.

“‘Cause you still owe me a drink,” he says as if it's obvious, a small smile still sitting so prettily on his mouth.

You blink, a little confused, but shuffle closer. “Bloody Mary?”

“Yeah,” he says with a deep breath, his grin growing bigger the closer that you come toward him. “Will you still make me one?”

You nod, toes finally crossing into the kitchen, and then you and Bucky are staring at each other. There are scratches left like the bones of a graveyard on his arms, and you’re almost sure if he turned around they’d cover his neck and back just as well. Seeing those reddened marks, similar to the bruises he’s left on you, makes you relax your shoulders just a little.

“Do you need help?” he asks, eyes sweeping over your barely covered form.

“No,” you say, heading to the kitchen which is little more than a countertop, a stove, and a fridge. “But you can keep me company.”

So this is what happens in the morning after. Bucky leans against the counter next to you, watching you with a burning intensity that nearly matches last night’s, and you pull all the ingredients out and line them up next to two glasses and try not to falter under his gaze. He looks at you like you’re this fascinating thing he needs to study and it bothers you, but only in the best of ways.

“Do you always stare this hard at your dates?” A smile plays at your lips as you crack open the tomato juice.

He doesn’t look away. “No,” he says, but he sounds unsure. “Is this a date, doll?” There’s something in his voice that you can’t figure out, faintly hopeful, fairly confused. Vaguely surprised, even.

You shrug. “Maybe.” Especially after all of yesterday, you would hope he thought so.

But Bucky shakes his head. “No.”

Ow.

That hurt more than you were expecting it to. Calling yourself his date had only been a joke meant to lighten the mood, ease him up a little, cure the tension swirling in the room. You guess you should have expected it, though. You owed him a drink—he didn’t owe you a date. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, anyway.

All you had done was sleep together, for fuck’s sake. This is why you hate morning afters. This is why you would have preferred it if he had been gone when you woke.

But was that even true? Because the relief you felt when you found him waiting for you in the kitchen was immense and hard to understand.

You open the bottle of vodka a little more forcefully than you intended.

“When we go out on a real date,” he continues, and your eyes meet, “I’ll be taking you out and treating you.” A slow grin crawls over his face that reminds you of his wicked mouth and what it can do and the sight makes your heart beat and beat and beat, faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird, quick quick quick.

“When?”

“When,” he affirms.

“That’s bold of you,” you say, popping ice cubes from a tray into the glasses.

“Maybe,” he says, “but I know what I want now.” Bucky shifts a little closer to you, his vibranium arm brushing by the bare skin of your soft one as you try and focus on not spilling the juice, but you can smell him and he smells like cedar and bergamot and smoke and clove. A smell that consumed you whole last night, surrounded you, drowned you in it.

He’s so close you can feel him inhale.

“I’ve lived a long time not knowing—not getting to decide—what I want,” he admits, his voice low and quiet and soothing your nervous heart. “So you can call it bold, but I call it right.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your hands still and you look up at him, eyes wide. In the soft white lights of your tiny kitchen, sharing the tight space with him so close, Bucky’s eyes are thunder and rain and lightning all at once, peace and chaos both, promising release and the sweet scent of earth and oil afterward.

“You don’t even know me,” you whisper.

Bucky leans closer. “But I want to.”

He’s so close, too close, close enough that he can surely hear the rhythm of your heart, unsteady and racing just for him. You could surge forward and kiss him, stake your claim once again on those pinkened lips that have held your attention from the first time you saw them, feel the stubble of his jaw rub against the soft peach fuzz of your own, let it remind you of how it felt against the apex of your thighs as he made you cry out over and over again, breaking on his tongue over and over again.

It makes you feel dizzier than any alcohol ever could.

But Bucky reaches over, past you, and takes one of the glasses from your hand, warm fingers brushing over your cooler ones. He holds it up, toward you, gesturing for a toast. With a swallow, hardly glancing away from his slate eyes to grab the other glass, you tap your Bloody Mary against his with a soft clink.

He watches you over the rim as he takes his first sip and you think he might be smirking. Then, he darts toward you and takes your lips in his own, tasting of spice and tomato juice and perfection, all Bucky, all for you.

When he pulls away, too quickly, he rests his forehead against your and looks down at you, staring into your hazy eyes.

“Will you let me stay?” he asks, like he doesn’t know what you’ll say. The soft, nervous Bucky is peeking out from behind his confident visage once again, his voice hopeful and frightened and the hand that’s gliding beneath your shirt and over your waist more timid than it was last night.

There’s a million things you can say. You can tell him to take you out to brunch instead. You can tell him you’re too busy. You can tell him that this was a one-night stand, it was only ever meant to be a one night stand, and that it was fun but you can’t afford to get attached to him and god, you know you’re going to get attached to him if he stays and that scares the ever-living fuck out of you. You can tell him that it’s messy here, inside your empty apartment, inside your empty heart. You can tell him that he could take up residence here. You can tell him so, so many things.

“Yes,” you say instead, and Bucky laughs against your mouth when he kisses you hard once more.

#Eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #plus sized reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes smut #smut #divine masterlist

[triptuckers]

Backup plan - Kaz Brekker

Request: yes “hiiii! can i request a kaz x reader where he falls in love with her because of how she saves him? like she sees all the angles he can't and keeps him out of the frying pan? thank you!!!” Pairing:  Kaz Brekker x reader Summary:  Kaz Brekker isn’t one to let people get close to him, but what about the girl who keeps saving him? Warnings: language Word count:  1K A/N: can’t believe it took me so long to write this cause I think my 800 follower celebration and two homes came first, but here it finally is!! sorry you had to wait so long, enjoy reading! TAG LIST (grishaverse): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 TAG LIST (kaz brekker): @mufnasa add yourself to my tag lists here

Your legs are aching but you keep on running. Why did something always have to go wrong? During times like this, you felt like Kaz just liked the adrenaline of coming up with new plans when something went wrong. Kind of like the way Jesper would get excited when you were caught in a gun fight. 

If only you could figure out why they got an adrenaline kick of those things. Some people get adrenaline kicks from things like winning a game, placing a good bet. Why did the people you hang out with always have to get adrenaline kicks out of near death experiences?

You could ask Kaz and Jesper. If you made it out of the museum alive. 

You’re running through the halls, closely following Kaz after Nina accidentally triggered an alarm. You didn’t have time to snatch the target with you - a pair of vintage earrings that had once belonged to a queen of Ravka. 

Right now, all you care about is getting out of the building without getting shot. The guards are crawling all over the place, forcing you and the crows to split up.

You saw Jesper and Wylan run off a while ago, shouting they’d meet you back at the Slat. Of course, Inej went to the roof to get out. Nina had pulled Matthias into a hallway, and you followed Kaz.

You always follow Kaz. You wonder if you’d follow him until it would result in you getting severely injured. 

Ahead of you, you can see Kaz is struggling to keep moving. Despite having his cane with him, you can tell his leg is hurting like hell. But there’s no time for a break, no time to slow down. 

Kaz takes a left turn but you speed toward him and tug on his arm. You ignore the angry look he gives you and gesture that you need to go right.

‘I studied the maps, Y/N!’ says Kaz in an impatient voice. ‘We have to go left!’

‘This entire place is a goddamn maze! Left is a dead end, we have to go right unless you want us to run into a dozen of guards.’ you say, still breathing heavily because of all the running.

Kaz frowns at you. ‘How would you know that?’ he says.

‘I studied the maps as well.’ 

‘You did?’

‘Yes! Now, do you trust me?’

‘Yes.’ says Kaz instantly, following you as you take a right.

When you’re about halfway through the hall, you hear shouting behind you. You look over your shoulder to see about a dozen of guards emerge through the door Kaz had intended to go through.

But there’s no time for ‘I told you so’ comments, you’re still running for your life. 

You run through the halls, on the way to one of the emergency exits. When Kaz had told you all of the plan, you studied the maps as well. You figured it’d be best to not go in blind. 

You burst through the doors and run out onto the street, Kaz on your heels. The guards follow you as you speed away from the museum. Kaz blindly follows you but stops when you run into an alley.

‘There’s an impenetrable fence at the end of this alley!’ says Kaz.

‘No there isn’t.’ you say. ‘I calculated this would be the route to take if things went to shit, which they did. Now hurry!’ 

Kaz has no choice but to follow you as the guards are closing in. He looks at you as you kneel in front of the set of locks that hold the fence firmly closed.

‘Those locks look brand new, let me.’ says Kaz, already fumbling for his lock picking tools.

‘Always come prepared, Kaz.’ you say. ‘First lesson you taught me, remember?’

You pull a heavy key chain from you pocket and start unlocking the locks one by one. Kaz watches you work.

‘You put new locks on it.’ he says in disbelief.

‘Last week.’ you say. ‘When we first got to planning the job. I made sure to plan some escape routes, and I walked all of them to see if we could make it. When I stumbled onto this fence, I got new locks and put them on it. In case we got caught and had to run from the museum.’

You look over your shoulder at him. Kaz looks at you, lips slightly parted.

‘You’re amazing.’ he says.

‘Did you get poisoned?’ you say as you get up after you finish unlocking all of the brand new locks. ‘You’re saying weird things that don’t fit you.’

But they do fit Kaz. God, they do. He thinks the world of you. And tonight, you have proven yet again you’re just as smart as he is. Hell, maybe even smarter than he is. 

The only difference is you add a little more charm to it than he does. He wouldn’t even be standing here if it hadn’t been for you. He’d lost count of how many times you’d saved him when a plan went wrong.

‘I didn’t get poisoned.’ says Kaz. ‘It’s true. You’re clever. You make back up plans even I can’t come up with. Changing the locks because you knew this was the route we would take? That’s really fucking impressive.’

You smile at his words and swing the gate open, letting him walk through it first.

‘Well, thank you.’ you say. ‘It’s good to know I can outsmart you every once in a while.’

‘Not just once in a while.’ says Kaz. ‘You’ve saved me and the others plenty of times with your quick thinking. It’s incredible. Like you.’

You squint your eyes at him. ‘Was that a compliment?’ you say. ‘I didn’t know you could compliment anyone.’

Kaz rolls his eyes at your words and you laugh. 

‘Just teasing.’ you say. ‘If I’m as incredible as you say I am, maybe you should invite me for a drink.’

‘Are you really talking me into asking you out?’ says Kaz and you wink at him in response. ‘It’s working. But you deserve more than just a drink. Let me take you out for dinner.’

You smile brightly. ‘Dinner it is.’ you say. ‘Now let’s go back to the Slat before the others think the guards caught us.’

A/N: 

If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fic #Kaz Brekker fics #Kaz Brekker oneshot #Kaz Brekker oneshots #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed meta #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #restless rewatch the untamed #my gifs #canary3d-original

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: TAGLIST CLOSED

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter seven

“Alrighty give mommy kissy.” You squatted down. Both of your kids tackled you in a hug and they kissed your cheeks. You kissed them back and pulled away. You watched as they walked to the bus.

Even though they’re homeschool, they offered a program where your kids can still go to class in person once a week so they can socialize and it won’t affect their mental health. After talking to another mother who put her kids in the same program, she recommended it and you decided that it was best.

Your kids already socialized in their volleyball practice but it wouldn’t hurt for them to talk more with other kids.

You saw as Rini helped his sister up the bus first and blocked the back of her skirt from showing her shorts underneath and you lowkey wanted to cry because he was such a gentleman. He then got in and they sat together on the right side of the bus and they waved you goodbye. You waved back and the bus began to leave.

You sighed and turned back home. You washed this morning’s dirty dishes and cleaned a bit around. After you were satisfied with the presentation of your house, you made your way to your small studio office and began answering more emails and writing topics for the new podcast episode you and Jamie had to record.

You took another sip of your barley warm tea and finally you heard the doorbell ring. You glanced at the time on your watch and realized it wasn’t 12 yet, it was probably Jamie.

You carried your laptop and placed it on the dining table and ran to the door. “I’m coming!” You yelled as Jamie rang the bell again. You opened the door revealing your two best friends and you were shocked to see Hana. She’s your best friend from highschool, the one who blocked the boy’s numbers and let you spend the night when you got kicked out.

She was also the one who was rooting for you and Suna but she was more than furious when she found out what happened. You called her on New Years and started balling your eyes out.

You told her to never date boys cause they sucked but little did you know she had a big crush on you. You were her first love.

I guess you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. So when Rin started to take your attention, she felt jealousy and loneliness but your happiness mattered more than her selfishness.

She became a fashion major in University but dropped out because she didn’t like what they were teaching. With the bit she learned and already knew, she turned into art. She made beautiful leather pieces of lingerie with straps and belts and lace and the models needed dramatic makeup and hair. And you happened to know an amazing makeup artist.

That’s where Jamie came in.

And eventually they fell in love.

Hana is always busy with her lingerie company since everything is hand crafted and not made in a factory like Jamie’s makeup products. So that’s why it was a shock to see her here during the day at least. “Come in come in. Mi casa es su casa.” You said in broken Spanish and they laughed.

Jamie sat on the dining table and sighed. She rubbed her baby bump and you asked if she wanted something to drink. You got her water as well as some wine for Hana. “So they’re really coming over?” Hana asked as she opened Jamie’s laptop and set it up for her wife.

“Yeah I hope so. If they flake I’m not gonna give him another chance. I already told the kids he’ll be here and they’re excited.” You said and she nodded. “Good.” Hana replied. You and Jamie began reading eachothers notes and topics regarding the podcast. “I think Hana is gonna have to take my place on the podcast if I pop.” Jamie mentioned randomly.

“Hell no.” Hana immediately said. “That’s a you two thing I’m not getting into it.” Hana said sternly. “But Hana, since Jamie got pregnant. You didn’t have a face for your spicy lingerie line. So I temporarily replaced her. Surely you could do the same!” You exclaimed and she rolled her eyes. “Speaking of lingerie I have something I want you to try for the next photoshoot. I’ll go get it after my smoke.” She said and you rolled your eyes with a nod.

“It’s pretty hot, like a harness thing on your wrist that connects to your thighs.” Jamie spoke up as Hana left. “Where does Hana come up with these things?” You asked and Jamie made a smirky face. “Nevermind I don’t wanna hear about your guy’s sex life.” You shuttered and she snickered.

Hana got out your front door, walked to her fancy Mercedes and took out the gift wrapped box as well as her favorite pack of smokes. She sat on the small bench in the front of your house and she lit the lighter, breathing in the nicotine. She sighed and wondered if you’re going to be okay with your ex seeing his kids.

If it was her she would refuse to let him see them and take it to court. But you weren’t like that. You always had hope and patience that you’d meet Suna again someway somehow.

She heard a car door slam and looked up to see the three tall figures get out of a car. She exhaled the smoke and they looked up to see her. “It’s been a long time, huh?” She tilted her head to the side and Suna scratched the back of his neck as he neared. “Hana I—I’m sorry for everything.” He said. “I trusted you with my best friend and you hurt her. I don’t think I could ever forgive you for hurting my first love like that.” She spoke bitterly and put out the cigarette in the small froggy bowl turned ashtray that the twins made.

“First love?” Osamu asked and Hana stayed quiet and motioned for them to follow her. Suna didn’t know what to say, after you left Hyogo Suna began bugging her for answers and she went off on him once and that’s when he realized that Hana was gay and in love with you the whole time.

Immediately when the door opened they heard yelling and singing. Obviously confused the boys looked at eachother but Hana seemed unfazed, she’s used to her wife’s chaotic nature and even though you’re pretty quiet and collected you make a complete 360 with Jamie around. You were both like Yin and Yang.

“Shh she’s been trying to get this song down for weeks.” Hana whispered as the boys followed through the small hall. They looked at the photos that adorned the wall and they saw baby photos of Suna’s kids and they truly looked like him. From the corner of his eye, Suna saw a photo of you with Shawn Mendes and smiled that you finally had a chance to meet your celebrity crush.

Suna nor the twins didn’t know what to expect when they saw you again. But they were shocked to see you in your true nature with studio headphones over your ears as you sang each note higher and higher. Jamie was yelling and slamming the table with her palm encouraging you to keep on going. Jamie used to do that in parties, drinking games were her favorite.

You finally finished the song and you took off your headphones and started screaming. “SIX WEEKS IT TOOK ME SIX FUCKING WEEKS TO COPY IT TO A T! I DID IT OH MY GOD!” You yelled and Jamie yelled again too. “BITCH I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT BUT YOU-“

“SELF-“ punch

“DOUBT-“ punch

“ALL-“ punch

“THE-“ punch

“TIME!” punch

“Alright alright I get it goddamn—if you weren’t pregnant you know I would punch you just as hard.” You scowled as you rubbed your arm. “Sorry y/n.” She apologized and chuckled. “We’re not interrupting right?” Hana spoke up causing you and Jamie to turn. The three men stood behind her and your face fell. The air shifted and you suddenly felt cold.

“No just work stuff.” You said and you quickly stood up. “Welcome to my home. You’re welcome to sit at the table.” You said and closed your laptop. “Would you like anything to drink..?” You asked, trying to be hospitable and Hana scoffed. “Give them water, you don’t have to be nice to them.” Hana said and she sat by Jamie. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the three men. “Water is fine..” Suna spoke up and the twins nodded.

“Sit.” Jamie said and motioned to the dining chairs. They all sat awkwardly while waiting for you to come back from the kitchen. You had your tray with their water, more tea for you and Jamie, and a glass of wine for Hana.

“Alright where do we start..” you said as you sat down next to Suna since that was the only empty spot. “The beginning.” Jamie shrugged. “I already explained what happened. I told her everything.” Jamie told the boys and immediately Atsumu scowled. “Knowing you you probably made yourself sound less bad.” He muttered, immediately Hana was about to say something but you interrupted. “Did you make the bet?” You asked the blonde, “Y..Yeah..” he frowned and shifted in the seat awkwardly, “Did you accept the bet?” You turned to Suna. “Yes..” he said guiltily. “Did you think Suna would win?” You asked Osamu. “Yeah.” “Jamie Did you think pissy— I mean Atsumu would win?” You asked her and she sighed a yes. “And did you all bet with money?” You asked. They all replied with yeahs and yes’s.

“Did you guys agree to quit because it was wrong?” You asked and they all nodded. “Then that’s all that happened. I don’t need to know anything else.” You explained.

“Look guys.” Jamie spoke up and she tapped her manicured fingers on the table nervously. “It took a long ass time for Y/N to forgive me and trust me, I ruined her life and I’m blessed to have met her. Without her I’d probably still be in an abusive relationship. Without her I wouldn’t have learned how to be humble and grateful for even waking up in the morning. She’s my best friend and I’m telling you straight up if you truly want to be her friend again. You need to work for it, Suna if you really want to be in the kids lives and earn Y/N’s trust you truly need to work for it.” she said almost desperately.

“If you ever disrespect her again. I will not hesitate to sock you in the face and I’ll call up Tobio if I have to. That goes for all of you.” Hana told the three men.

“Do you guys have anything to say?” You asked. “I would apologize but I’d rather let you see it than hear it.” Suna spoke up and you nodded. “Alright.” You said simply.

“I’m sorry, Y/N-cha—I mean Kageyama.” Atsumu said. “I’m sorry Kageyama.” Osamu finished and you nodded once more.

“Okay this is awkward. I forgave you guys a long time ago but I don’t trust either of you. Atsumu, Osamu you are not obligated to be my friend. Suna you aren’t obligated to be my friend either but I would appreciate it if we were civil with one another for the sake of the kids. If you ever have any questions regarding the kids I’ll be happy to answer.” You told him as you played with the tea bag in your cup, and they all stared at you.

Like that’s it? You forgive them? You’re not going to throw your tea at them?

“Um I kind of want to ask about the ya know..”

“Pregnancy?” Hana raised a brow and Suna nodded awkwardly. “Like when did you find out....and is that why you left?” He asked. “If its alright can we talk about that in private?” You asked and stood up. “Y-yeah sure.” Suna stuttered and he stood up as well. “Hana, Jamie you don’t mind—“ “The bus honks at 13:30 we know. We’ll be able to hear it.”

“Yeah and we have a lot of catching up to do.” Jamie fake smiled and you wanted to snort at the her disgust and their awkwardness. “Alright follow me.” You motioned down the hall. You opened the door to the kids room and you took a step in. He followed you and closed the door. You both released a sigh and you sat on Akira’s bed. “You can sit there.” You motioned to your sons bed.

He nodded and sat on the small bed. “Okay so..the pregnancy..” you started. “Mhm.” He nodded. “I found out on January 25th, I wasn’t feeling the best for a while and I couldn’t handle the discomfort anymore so I went to the hospital with my mom. The doctor asked me the basic sex questions and tested my urine. My mom came into the room when I was told the news and I was basically disowned.” You sighed and leaned back against the wall.

You hugged your knees to your chest. He could already feel the shame you must have felt in his chest. “I had to walk to the pharmacy in my school uniform to get to prenatales since my mom told me to walk home. When I finally arrived home, my room was trashed and they were asking if you happened to be the dad. I told them no. He even threatened to kick me out and I told him I didn’t know so I was kicked out and I left. I spent the night at Hana’s and the next day I resigned as the team’s manager, and gathered all my papers to transfer.” You said and he rubbed his face and sighed.

His birthday.

You found out on his birthday.

He patiently listened and asked a few questions here or there and before you knew it you barley heard the faint foot steps and the door bursting open. You both turned to see your guy’s kids standing there. “See I told you they were talking.” Akira mumbled. “Aunt Hana said something about them making out.” Rini huffed.

“She said making up not out! Are you an idiot or an idiot?!” Akira said slightly frustratedly. “I’m older than you, don’t call me an idiot.” He said and shoved her. Before you could scold your son, you saw Akira’s whole demeanor change and you knew Rini was fucked. “How many times has mom said to stop shoving girls and pushing women! If you keep at it than you’re going to be a bad husband to your future wife someday you stupid Rabbit!” She yelled as she tackled him and began smacking him around. “Get off me you nerd!” He yelled and you quickly pulled Akira away.

Rini began crying and Akira did too and you sighed and turned to Suna.

“Welcome to parenthood.”

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #miya atsumu #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

[hotdamnhunnam]

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

A/N: So here’s the first of 12 filthy imagines to be written for my 500 Followers Kinkfest Celebration!! Based on the below request for Mr. Jax Fucking Teller dishing out some super intense degradation/humiliation... 🔥

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Jax, inferiority kink (super intense degradation, extreme verbal abuse/humiliation) (for what it’s worth, Jax isn’t serious about any of it, but reader is a kinky bitch and fucking begs him for it...) Request: Kinkfest request from @rebelwrites

Word Count: ~1.7k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut...

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

Jax Fucking Teller is in love with you.

Most days you can’t believe it’s true, though he spends every waking moment of his life reminding you that you’re his girl, his whole damn world. Surrounds and fucking drowns you in his love. Deep down—at least when you’re around—this badass biker is a hundred shades of soft. His touch is somehow gentle even when the sex is rough.

It’s the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can never get enough. Jax Teller is undoubtedly the world’s most perfect boyfriend, and the world’s most perfect man, full stop. And that is fucking that. Which is why you feel so ridiculously bad, about the fact that sometimes you crave something just a little... different, from the tender loving fluff.

Jax knows already that you’re into some intensely kinky stuff. He knows you love it when he fucks you like a dirty little slut, and calls you one, while he destroys your tight wet cunt.

And yet he doesn’t know the full fucking extent of what you want. Or if he does, he doesn’t dare to guess, and hides it all too well. ‘Cause it’s kinky as hell. There are no limits to the force of your desire to submit to Jax—you love and worship his perfection more than words could ever tell, and once the two of you go down that path, he’s probably terrified there won’t be any turning back.

There’s a beast inside him that he’s scared to release, to unleash to the max. But that’s the side of him that turns you on. The side you want. The darkest and most dangerous side of Jax. The savage sadist that would get off on treating a whore like a damn piece of trash.

Tonight, you decide, while he’s all set to blow your mind with yet another round of soft passionate sex... maybe you’ll ask. Maybe you’ll finally fucking beg.

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

“God, you’re so fucking perfect...” you gush as you kneel before him in a state of submission and service, so eager to worship the thick cock that towers so tall and so proud between his sculpted legs. “So gorgeous...”

“Mmm, look who’s talkin’...” he coos, as you slowly start stroking. His bright blue eyes shining so beautifully down on you, brimming with love as he takes in the view. “Babe, you’re so fucking—”

... beautiful, no doubt. The word is halfway out his mouth, when you cut off the sentence. “Jax, can we try something... different?” you butt in, not quite in the mood for a shower of compliments. Desperately want tonight’s session to be all about worshipping your gorgeous golden god of a boyfriend. “Can you, uh—talk to me like a...”

He can tell that you’re shy. Sweeps a stray tress of hair from your lowered eyes, smiling down at you tender and soft, as your voice tapers off. “Like a what? Like a damn dirty slut?”

Just those words already get you so soaking wet it hurts. “Yeah, but...”

“You want something more than that?” he dares to ask, as he starts stripping out of his kutte, then his shirt.

“Yes, Jax,” you gasp as you shudder in thirst. Before you can even attempt to hold back, the words fly out of your shameless mouth in a sudden loud burst. “I want you to treat me like shit and degrade me like crazy. Fuck me like you hate me.”

He clenches his jaw. Takes a soul-crushing pause. All your senses go hazy and weak when he finally speaks. “Do you know what you’re asking for, baby?”

“God, yes, sir,” you desperately answer, prepared for a whole new dimension of pleasure. All set to submit to the god that is Jax Fucking Teller.

He’s naked now, flannel and leather thrown down in a heap on the ground. Though you still have his thick throbbing cock in your hands, he’s the one in command. This huge cock is his powerful scepter; he wears every lock of his beautiful, lustrous blonde hair like a crown. He’s a literal king among men. Every moment you’re with him you fall in love over and over again.

“Now I need you to know that I won’t mean a word that I say,” he states, reaching to tenderly cradle your face. “Promise me you won’t ever forget that, okay? I love you more than anything, babe. Now and always.”

“Yes—yes, Jax, I know,” you moan, shifting your head just to kiss his palm, briefly sucking his thumb, swirling your tongue all over the knucklebone. “Promise I know. I could never forget all the times you said so. This is all just a game, I’ve been trying to say... I’ve been dying to play... just a show. Just—please, Jax... want the monster inside you to fucking let go.”

From the fire that blazes in his fierce blue eyes, you just know that the beast in Jax wants this as badly as you do. He’s a kinky bitch, too, and you both know it’s true. In his view, there’s just something delicious about the contrast with how much he sincerely loves you... something so fucking twisted and sick about treating you like the exact opposite.

So he gets down to business. Not wasting a minute. Stares down at you now like a piece of meat, not even worthy of kneeling here at his feet, setting fire to every last inch of your skin with his heat. It’s everything you need. He’s just getting started and already you feel fucking finished. “Ugh, look at you. Who fucking knew? Who knew you’d want me to abuse your ass like this, you kinky little bitch? You are such a pathetic, worthless, filthy piece of shit.”

Oh fuck—the way that hits—it feels like an atomic bomb just went off on your clit. There’s nothing even touching it. You’re just sitting here gawking up at him with his big cock clutched in your fists. In one split second, Jax already has you pushing up against your fucking limits—not that you have any, with him. Never did. Never will. He’s so perfect it kills.

And now you lose your goddamn grip, spit likely dripping from your lips, losing control over your limbs, as you succumb to him, feeling him handle you like nothing, throw you down onto the bed like a rag doll or something.

“Deep down you know you never deserved me,” he wickedly taunts, setting off yet another bomb, deep in your cunt. Every word from his mouth so degrading and dirty. Drowning you in a sea of submission and inferiority. “Just a piece of shit whore. Nothing more. You mean nothing to me. You’re so fucking unworthy.”

Oh my Goddd... how is he so mind-blowingly hot...? You are no longer able to talk, which works out well as Jax settles into place, straddling your face, and then finally stuffs your mouth full of his big perfect cock.

“That’s it, slut. Suck,” he orders, embracing his role as your master, hammering his dick into your face harder, faster. “You know you would sell your whole soul for this dick. Just for one fucking lick. Because you’re just that fucking pathetic.”

He is honestly perfect... you’re so fucking wrecked...

“Remember you asked for this, bitch. Fucking begged,” he reminds you with a savage laugh that cuts your slutty soul in half. Practically strangling you between his big strong legs. “Think you deserve to breathe? Think you deserve that privilege? This big fat dick’s the only thing you’ll ever need.”

Yes, sir... please, just fucking destroy me, you silently plead.

“You know you don’t even deserve it though, you good-for-nothing slut,” he grunts, pulling his cock out of your mouth, denying you the luscious piece of meat that you will always want. “Not worthy of this perfect dick deep in your dirty throat. Or in your filthy fucking cunt. You don’t even deserve to exist, you worthless piece of shit. But you’re lucky I keep you around just for fun. Just to fuck you whenever I want, and then throw you away when I’m done.”

You have lost all control of your tongue. It’s just lolling around, hanging out of your mouth, and you don’t even care that you must look completely insane right about now. All you want is to praise him and thank him for being such a flawless god of a man, such an actual god... but you can’t. You cannot. Your mouth tries to form words but forgot fucking how.

Especially now as Jax spins you around, pins you down. Getting into position to fuck you even deeper into submission. Teasing your wet cunt for one fleeting second with his raging hard cock, and then plunging in, wrecking and fucking you like a damn dog.

He pushes your head down into the bed and soaks you in his sweat and fucks you so ferociously you’re probably dead.

Apparently dying is where it’s at, because you’ve never been so wet.

At one point Jax reaches to wrap both hands around your throat. All the while keeps reminding you, with words and actions both, of what is so painfully true: that you are nothing but a worthless slut, a good-for-nothing filthy piece of shit. That getting fucked by him is the sole reason you exist.

You never doubted it, not for a goddamn minute. But it feels so good for Jax to tell you this. To show you this. The beast inside him always wanted it; you know he did. You’re both just so twisted and sick that you can take pleasure together from this super kinky shit. And you have never felt so blessed. It’s just the motherfucking best...

By the time Jax has filled you with his white hot cum, you’ve lost count of your own orgasms. Probably close to a thousand...? At least fucking hundreds. You’re bound to need years to recover from this intense fucking, you bet...

But you really can’t wait that long, honestly. Thankfully... neither can he. Smirks sadistically down at you now as he lifts his godlike body up from the bed, letting you behold him so beautifully bare naked and beaded with sweat.

Then the words he says next... well, thank God you’re already so totally dead.

“Don’t you dare fucking move, slut. You know I ain’t done with you yet.”

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

Okayy so I know this was FILTHY AS SHIT but I hope there are some kinky bitches out there who enjoyed it! 🤪

I am SO EXCITED for the rest of this kinkfest – see below Masterlist for all 12 requests!! As always, much love to all of my Charlie sluts! ❤️

Note: I’m running a separate tag list for this kinkfest, so let me know if you’d like to be added! (To my general tag list, kinkfest-specific tag list, or both!) ✨

– Main Masterlist

– Kinkfest Masterlist

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

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @malethirsty @coffeequeenxx @turner-cris @innerpaperexpertcloud @est11 @magic-room @littlebennettwitchsblog @snow-white-74 @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #charlie hunnam #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy smut #charlie hunnam smut #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #charlie hunnam imagine #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #tw: verbal abuse #tw: degradation #kinkfest

[psalloacappella]

SSM21 Day 2. Festival

Pairing:  SasuSaku  Prompt: Festival  Title:  sparks will fly, they ignite our bones Tags:  AU - Modern Setting; First Dates; Wooing Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

(In which Sakura has the better aim.)

Ao3 | twt | full series link | @ssskmonth

“It’sa real date this time.” Each word’s punctuated by Naruto’s fist punching his opposite palm, driving home the importance of this. This being:  Street stall smells rich and piquant, a smoky-savory blend; lights flickering in kaleidoscopic, neurotic brilliance; children wild as free foals escaping their parents, weaving in and out of adults’ legs clutching cheap prizes and sparklers —

and him, Sasuke, on an actual fucking date with a woman with cotton-candy-colored locks who has been besting him every game and measure of skill imaginable, and his dumb plus-one buffer, the best friend, now droning on about how he needs to win her something.

“Anything!” Naruto throws his arms up, dramatic and exasperated, the only gearsetting he seems to have. “Teddy bear, ugly fish, keychain — literally any shitty prize to show her yer not a complete waste of time.”

“Sasuke!” Both men snap to, pretending to have been watching the whole time as Sakura jumps up and down, pumping a fist in the air. “I won again!”

With shiny, wide eyes, she places both her palms out in giddy anticipation to receive a stuffed bear donning a baseball cap of the local (terrible) team from a surly booth operator with a permanent frown.

“She’s comin’ this way!”

“I can see that,” Sasuke hisses. “You useless idiot.”

“Did I hear ‘charming wingman?’ ‘Kay, I’m gonna find some food. Give you two some time—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Alone.” Some strange tone aiming for sensual manifests as choking pigeon, and Naruto skips away as Sakura bounds up to Sasuke, smiling so wide he can see every perfect tooth.

“Did you see?” So proud of herself, arms laden with prizes. Some she’s already given away to cute children passing by, perhaps the sole supplier of noisemakers and soft bears. For a doctor in pediatrics, the urge to make smiles comes second nature. “Where’s he going?”

“Food, or something,” Sasuke murmurs, trying not to look as constipated and irritated as he had ten minutes prior — another gem from Naruto’s unasked-for criticism. “He’s left us alone.”

“Finally.” Definitely slipped out by accident, and Sakura grumbles over her mistake, red prickling her cheeks and chest. “Not that I dislike him, of course—”

“I do,” Sasuke says, absolutely deadpan. It takes her a moment.

“Uchiha Sasuke, did you just make your first joke?”

Ears burning in the cool night air, it’s his turn to smother his embarrassment. In lieu of further slip ups, he awkwardly gathers the items in her arms, a mishmash of unidentified thingamajigs and whatnots that you only find in curio shops or carnivals, and gallantly takes on their burden.

“Walk with me?”

So sure his voicebox just sustained a hairline crack; he hates himself for being nervous.

Eyes, hers, brighter than all the psychedelic frenzy swirling around them both, caught up in the haze; she has the uncanny ability to fade the rest to black, toss the entirety of the world’s existence aside.

Seeking to link her arm with his amid the mess of wares won, she succeeds and presses closer.

“I thought I’d die waiting,” she whispers into his sleeve. “I’ve been wanting you to notice me properly all night.”

Meandering, conjoined, down the main road; carved out for the celebration, buffeted by snack scents and other couples, groups of friends, and plenty of pairs pretending they’re still just and only that. Along the way she unloads her many winnings, surreptitious, in part kindly trying to relieve his burden but also calculating the space in her single occupancy apartment.

She watches people and lights, and he watches her.

Sakura’s gaze snags on a particular booth, more specifically a particular prize. Of the stuffed variety.

“Did . . .  something catch your eye?” he asks. Immediately thinks he sounds like an idiot. You know how to woo ‘em, and why does his inner voice sound like Naruto’s on this date, goddamn it —

Burying her cheek into his shoulder, she giggles and it threads beautiful, stringed tension in his throat and spine, symphonic, testing its own flex to see if she can orchestrate the rest of him. He wishes he could spin her around, lift her high in some filmesque climax, kiss her in the closing credits.

“Don’t laugh,” she says, “but I love slugs. Adore them, really. Gross, I know!” She raises her free hand and points directly at a giant stuffed slug on a high shelf behind the booth’s counter. “And honestly, I’d likely keep it in my office; the kids would love it.”

Sasuke knows, from what she’s disclosed, that these are sick kids, too. This ancient, gendered mating ritual is unavoidable and he’ll have to rise to the challenge. He must provide. Stupid, because she outstrips his earnings and likely will the rest of their life.

Says it like a throwaway, like no big deal:  “I’ll have to win it for you, then.”

The game? Aim. Darts. Doable if he’s sober and with equally (un)talented friends; ranging from Shino the sharpshooter to drunk and stumbling Suigetsu, he’s decidedly somewhere in the middle, but it should be enough raw talent to beat a festival game.

Sakura’s eyes are on him, excited. She dances a little from foot to foot, ready to cheer him on.

Dropping the rest of the prizes on the ground and shoving a fistful of coins at the booth operator, he smirks. Born ready, all those forced childhood sports camps and instrument lessons finessing his hand-eye coordination finally stepping up to the plate.

Imagine failing miserably three rounds in a row, the last one bouncing off the dartboard so violently it narrowly misses the sleepy booth operator. Sasuke grinds his teeth, jaw tight, wishing it’d met its mark.

To Sakura’s credit, she’s completely unperturbed. Almost makes it worse.

She pecks him on the cheek, scoring him through hot and fevered where her lips touch.

“Performance anxiety,” she quips, but her smile isn’t unkind. “Let me give it a try.”

Each dart that lands in the board does so with gusto, embeds itself deep into the sisal cork. As each one hits, Sasuke reflects they might as well be piercing him. The most painful blow is watching her indicate the bluebacked slug, winning it outright without his help, and squeezing it half to death in her arms.

They’re walking again, sans the rest of her prizes — left them for the booth operator, and whatever kids wander his way wanting toys with which to annoy their parents.

“You’ve been so quiet,” she says, shifting her slug under one arm and linking up with him again.  Sasuke shrugs against her. “I’m not sure what’s next with us.”

 He stops, figures it’s better to rip that bandaid off now, give her an out so he can save some face. Of course they’ve stopped on some coquettishly romantic bridge, arched over the still summer pond, a popular viewing spot for the night’s end fireworks.

She watches him expectantly, searching him with her sharp green eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her question is slow, puzzled.

What he means to say is something gentile. Instead he says, “You’re great at darts.”

She seems to sway, a physical manifestation of being caught off guard. Laughs. “Surprised me too! But you gave my arms a rest, so they were ready to win.” Curls her arm to indicate muscle, grinning.

Steps closer, melting through an unseen veil of personal space. Cherry scent; smoke.

“Could be all the shots you administer.”

“I guess we can call jabbing kids with needles a calling.” Mirroring him, she steps in too, and there’s not so much space between them anymore. “Good practice. You could come around sometime, see my work.”

Another tiny shuffle.

It’s time to break this. Sasuke inhales deeply, letting it out in measured beats. “Sakura—”

“If you’re mad you couldn’t win this for me,” she interrupts, “you’re being silly. I don’t care about that, you know.”

He tilts his head, and in spite of himself his hand wanders, brushing a stray strand of pink out of her face. “Hm?”

“I don’t,” she repeats, and sets her slug down on the wooden bridge. Breathes deeply before saying in a low, threaded voice, “What I care about is all the waiting.”

Sasuke feels it all fall into place. Oh. Oh.

“So come on, Sasuke.”

And before she’s even finished saying his name he’s kissing her, the last vibrations of his name caught on their lips, locked, and though the timing is perfect and picturesque, film archetype material as the fireworks charge the air around them, each one set off drawing ripple designs in the water beneath them, this thrill is unmatched, the way she wraps her arm around his neck to taste him deeper, the way he lifts her up to rest him on his hips and there’s nothing, has never been anything, quite like this.

Real fireworks pale in comparison.

Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

“The perfect end,” she whispers, “to a festival.”

#SSM21 #sasusaku #psalloacappella:SSM21

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.17|Brittana

A/N - And that's a wrap! Thank you for being patient and loving this story enough to leave reviews and even create awesome artwork and gifsets. It's been quite the journey (and ngl I'm kinda glad it's over). I know many of you would love to see this continue, but I've struggled massively just trying to find a satisfying conclusion. I hope this chapter did just that. Maybe I'll do random one-shots in the future, who knows. 

Thanks for sticking with me & I'll see you around!💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

By the time Santana returns to the sidelines where the rest of the Cheerios are gathered, she finds Quinn waiting for her there with this proud look on her face. Knowing Quinn and how long she has been rooting for her and Brittany to finally get together, Santana already has an idea of what she’s about to say.

“I saw that,” Quinn comments slyly.

Santana fights the blush blooming, but it’s hard when she feels like everyone in the entire stadium is looking at her – especially after that kiss.

She really couldn’t help it though.

Similarly to the way she reacted when Brittany suffered that serious hit, Santana was drawn to the girl. Her feet were moving well before her head registered where she was going and this time was no different, but a flash of a camera brings her back down to Earth.

“Yeah, you aren’t the only one,” Santana quips in attempt to mask that uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It’s an unnerving feeling, but there’s no way she’d ever want to take back her actions. Hell, she should’ve kissed Brittany when she asked her to but she was still trying to appease everyone for some reason – she was still trying to play by their rules.

But there’s this odd feeling beneath the surface – a feeling of empowerment, like the bonds have broken and she’s finally been set free.

That was the last time she’ll be playing by their rules, because now she has seen what a kiss like that can do. It doesn’t matter who is watching because the way Brittany lit up, the way it made Santana feel to be just like everyone else celebrating on that field, to share a kiss with someone she loves – she loves – for once: it was magic.

She won’t take it back and she isn’t going to apologize for doing it either.

At some point she has to get used to the idea that people will stare and sometimes they won’t, she just can’t let it phase her because there’s no way she can regress from this. She has to be unapologetically herself and that’s hard, but it’s better than trying to be someone else. She owes it to herself to keep pushing her own boundaries and she owes to Brittany to be brave.

“Way to rock the boat,” Quinn jokes as she gathers her things and stuffs it into her duffle bag, “I’ve never seen someone look so happy. I couldn’t tell if she was more excited about the win or you.”  

Santana relaxes a little and says, “I told her.”

“Told her what?” Quinn quirks a brow but then she connects the dots on her own and her eyes widen, “Wait, you told her? Like you – “

Suddenly Santana can’t stop the smile from forming at the memory, “Yes.”

Apparently, neither can Quinn. She just pulls Santana in for a hug.

Santana laughs at how tightly Quinn’s holding on, “What’s this for?”

“I was going to tease the hell out of you but I’m just so proud,” Quinn replies, “You’ve really come such a long way. It’s about goddamn time!”

“Thanks,” Santana replies and for some odd reason she actually feels a little choked up as Quinn pulls away. She swallows back whatever that is and adds, “I didn’t even plan on telling her until I was saying it. It just felt right though, I said it and then wondered why it took me so long to tell her in the first place.”

“You’re always a little late to the party,” Quinn teases and Santana swats her arm for that. Quinn only laughs, “What? It’s true!”

Santana snorts, “Well, my dad’s probably losing his shit right about now.”

“That would explain why he’s not with your mom,” Quinn comments with a nod over Santana’s shoulder.

They both look over to where Santana’s mom is speaking with Whitney and Pete. From where Santana’s standing, the conversation between the families looks like it’s going pretty well. She wouldn’t expect anything less, especially if her dad isn’t involved. She knows after the stunt she pulled, he’ll have something to say which is why he probably left – so they can deal with this privately.  

“Great,” Santana grumbles, “Just what I need.”

“Your mom’s still here so that’s a plus. Right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Quinn lets out a tired sigh and Santana does the same.

Instead of making a move, Santana glances back over to Brittany. She can see the blonde talking excitedly with the recruiter from Ohio State and Santana swells with pride. After a great game like that, she’s hoping that guy is offering Brittany everything she wants and then some.

If anyone deserves it, it’s Brittany.

“You want me to go with you?” Quinn offers and nods in the direction of Santana and Brittany’s families, “They’re calling you over.”

Santana takes a deep breath, “That’s okay. I’ll go.”

“Okay,” Quinn gives her an encouraging smile, “I’ll see you at Puck’s?”

“Hopefully,” Santana nods before slinging on her duffle and joining her mom.

\\

“Hi Mrs. Pierce,” Santana greets politely before smiling down at Brittany’s brother, “Hey Petey

“What an amazing performance,” Whitney compliments her.

Santana smiles bashfully, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize this school had so many talented teams!” Whitney says.

“Oh no, it’s just been the Cheerios for years,” Santana replies with a chuckle, “The Titans actually being good is all thanks to Brittany.”

Whitney gives her a knowing smile before Pete excitedly interrupts.

“Santana!” He shrieks, “I didn’t know you could fly! It was so cool!”

Santana gives him a curious look before he goes on and on about how awesome Santana was during the Cheerios half time performance.

“Oh, you mean when they threw me in the air?” Santana clarifies. Pete nods with a toothy grin and it makes Santana laugh, “That was more like falling with style.”

Pete’s draw drops, “Like Buzz Lightyear?”

Santana smirks, “Exactly.”

Pete matches her expression, “Super cool.”

She knows he’s only a kid but the praise makes her feel pretty good about herself and the proud smiles Whitney and Maribel wear only add to that feeling.

If only her dad was there to offer some type of praise of his own.

“So where’s Papi?” Santana asks Maribel.

She instantly feels the vibe change at his mention. Whitney must feel it too and starts to look for an out of the conversation.

“Well, we better go see Brittany,” She says, “I think she might be finished with that recruiter now.”

“Let’s go!” Pete tugs on Whitney’s sleeve, “Bye Santana! Bye Miss Maribel!”

Maribel chuckles as she joins Santana in waving goodbye to them. Her expression falters just a little as she turns back to Santana, “Your dad had to leave right away. There was some paperwork that he needed to – “

“It’s okay,” Santana interrupts, “You don’t need to make up an excuse for him. I know he’s angry with me for causing another scene or whatever.”

Maribel sighs, “It’s not that, mija.”

“No? Then what is it?”

Maribel gives her daughter that look that says watch that attitude. Santana softens but still crosses her arms over her chest. Honestly, she doesn’t know why she expected anything different from her dad. Of course he’d react so dramatically and of course she’d be left in the wake of it all feeling like absolute shit.

“How many times did I say talk to him?” Maribel asks, “How many times did I say the sooner the better? How do you think he’d react when he found out you have been keeping things from him? You’ve harbored them until they’ve built up and now there’s a mountain where there used to be a molehill.”

Santana scuffs her tennis shoe at the turf. She can feel that empowered feeling from earlier fleeting but instead of feeling sorry for herself, she laughs bitterly.

“What?” She huffs, “He’s mad because I didn’t tell him about me and Brittany?”

“No mija,” Maribel sighs, “He’s hurt.”

Santana’s eyes widen at that, “He’s… How? He hasn’t exactly been too keen to know about my love life so why would I bother now?”

“Santana, it’s more than that. Like I have been telling you all this time,” Maribel replies, “You need to talk to him.”

Santana sucks in an aggravated deep breath, “Why does this fall on me?”

Maribel softens, “This is your life, mija, what you have to say needs to come from you if you want things to change.”

Santana frowns at that, but Maribel continues.

“He’s still your dad and you might not think so but he wants to be included in your life. He just doesn’t know how to do that anymore,” Maribel adds, “You’ve both been butting heads for so long that neither of you know how to act around each other.”

Santana grits her teeth and looks away, but Maribel reaches for her.

“At some point, a parent realizes that they might not know all the answers. You have to teach him, Santana,” Maribel explains, “You have to give him a chance to get to know the real you and not the person you think he wants you to be. You have to give him the same opportunity that you’ve given me otherwise this is what your relationship will be: you both hurting each other without ever speaking about it.”

Santana relaxes because her mom makes a good point. There’s just so much to work through and Santana’s scared that if she does give him a chance then he’ll only hurt her all over again. But a little part of her thinks about Brittany and what wise words she’d have for her.

“You have to at least try, right?”

Santana sighs because even when she isn’t there, Brittany’s always like her guiding light, her beacon of hope, her rock.

“Okay,” Santana finally says, “I’ll talk to him.”

Maribel smiles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders and kisses her temple, “It’ll be fine.”

Santana only nods, hoping that she’s right.

\\

When Santana and Maribel return home, Santana skips changing out of her uniform in favor of going straight to her dad. She figures her uniform has always felt like armor so it only makes sense that she continues to wear it now when she feels the most vulnerable.

As she knocks at Hector’s office door and is called in, she feels like she’s about to see Principal Figgins – except this is much worse. Hector is at his desk and his brows are pushed together in hard concentration as reads the computer screen in front of him.

That stops when Santana takes a seat in the arm chair by the book shelf. It’s the farthest she can be from her dad and it’s also the closest seat to the door incase she needs to make a run for it.

Ridiculous, but necessary – maybe. She has hope, but it has been misplaced before.

Hector turns off the computer screen but is slow to make eye contact with Santana. It’s nothing new to her though and they plummet into a heavy silence. She tries to put on a brave face like always, but she doesn’t think this time will be like the others.

It can’t be like the others. Something has to give.

She sits there in the leather arm chair feeling the smallest she’s ever felt because above her are framed diplomas from Harvard in these ornate frames and they stare down at her like they know every one of her dirty little secrets.

It makes her want to run and hide.

It makes her want to abandon this whole idea, but the beginning of the truth has reared its ugly head and there’s no turning back now – she can do nothing but face the inevitable.

In a sudden burst of confidence or courage or stupidity, Santana finally rips the band aid off and says what comes to mind first, addressing the biggest elephant in the room.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

The words leave her lips for a second time and it’s a relief to say them again – especially to her dad – but now she feels suspended in midair like she’s waiting to either be caught or slam to the ground.

When Hector doesn’t say anything it makes the wait feel even worse.

He just sits there with his eyes focused on his desk, unmoving and unreadable. It’s like Santana’s looking in a mirror and it’s enough to push her to be different, to be better, to learn from his missteps so she doesn’t fall into the same cycle. She feels the familiar need to apologize worming its way up, but she swallows it back because what does she have to be sorry for? She’s finally being honest for once, why would she try to hide that?

Hector shifts in his seat and utters his first words, “Since when?”

Santana threads her fingers together in her lap and shrugs, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go there.”

“But, we’ve talked about this for so long?” Hector replies looking shocked, “Harvard is your dream school.”

Santana shakes her head, “We’ve never talked about it. You and Abuelo just assumed that’s where I would go and you planned accordingly. I guess it’s also on me though, because I didn’t want to let either of you down. I didn’t want to be the one to break tradition, but Harvard…it isn’t my dream school.”

“Oh,” Hector breathes out and it’s the most dejected sound Santana’s ever heard.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” Santana mumbles.

Hector continues to try and piece things together, “Can I ask what changed?”

Santana has thought about the answer to this particular question for so long and she has yet to come up with anything straight forward. It’s more like a feeling that she can’t really explain and she doubts her dad would understand that.

Her dad is someone who doesn’t deviate from tradition, like ever. Hector does what is expected of him and follows every social cue on the planet, never being one to rock the boat. For awhile, Santana was like that too but then everything with Bree and Dani happened – she couldn’t really follow the status quo anymore.

As much as she hated that time of her life, if it didn’t happen where would she be today? Still in the closet? Still trying to pretend to be someone she isn’t? She can’t keep living her life by trying to please everyone else, it just makes her feel miserable.

“I just…I don’t think it’s the place for me,” Santana answers instead.

“But you,” Hector pauses to knead his forehead, “This doesn’t make any sense. Do you even want to be a doctor anymore?”

Santana sighs, “Of course I do. I still want to help people, I just don’t want to follow your exact footsteps. I want to go my own way.”

Hector nods like everything’s starting to sink in, “You’ve never been interested in going anywhere else. You can understand why this is a shock to me.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I had a choice,” Santana replies, “Especially after everything that happened last year. I just wanted to make you proud of me again, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. I might as well do things for me now.”

“Wait,” Hector finally looks to Santana, “You don’t think I’m proud of you?”

Santana shrugs, but she finally sees the hurt look in his eyes and it confuses her.

“Santana, that’s…,” Hector shakes his head, “That’s not true.”

Santana lets out a dry chuckle, “Let’s be honest, you haven’t been proud of me since Bree and JBI posted that stupid video. Since then, you can barely be in the same room as me.”

Hector doesn’t say a word, just listens.

“It was never my intention to ruin everything,” Santana admits and she starts to feel that familiar lump form in her throat but there’s no stopping the truth from escaping now, “I’ve tried so hard for so long to be the perfect daughter, but I’m tired of spinning my wheels for nothing. I make good grades, I’m Co-Captain of the Cheerios and I stay out of trouble…most of the time. I think that’s pretty good considering I was outed to the whole damn town. Everywhere I went, there was always someone commenting on my life. There was also someone staring at me, someone whispering about how sinful my behavior was. Aside from Quinn, I was completely alone for so long. I could’ve gone batshit crazy but I didn’t. I put my head down and tried to do everything I could to be someone you were proud of, to get back into your good graces.”

Hector continues to listen silently, but his lack of response puts Santana on edge.

“Clearly, I haven’t been done a very good job,” Santana huffs in attempt to mask her hurt, “I’ve hated how we’ve grown apart this past year, but I shouldn’t be the only one trying to fix things. Especially since I’ve been bending over backwards to redeem myself for what happened. You shunned me and yet I was still trying to please you. I’m not doing that anymore – I can’t go back to the way things were before, I just can’t.”

Hector clears his throat and asks, “Before what?”

“God, before I told you that I’m gay!” Santana responds. She surprises herself by how confidently she said those words so much so that she says them again, “I’m gay, Papi, and I’m tired of it being another thing that we don’t talk about. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. I’m tired of trying to make all this progress then come home to you taking it all away. I’m tired of you making me feel so inadequate.”

Hector’s shoulder drop as he slumps back in his chair like Santana just dealt him the hardest hit.

“I don’t expect you to go waving around a rainbow flag or offer to take me to my first Pride festival but you’re going to have to acknowledge it because that’s a part of who I am,” Santana continues, “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep doing things to please everyone else. This is me and I’m not going to apologize for it.”

She doesn’t realize she has said nearly the exact same words she once did to her Abuela before she was shut out and it makes her heart clench painfully. She had felt so small in her Abuela’s kitchen when she uttered those words last time, but now? This is her standing up for herself, this is her taking back her life and her dad can either support her or step aside.

“I’m gay, Papi,” Santana says with a sort of finality, “And I have this amazing girlfriend that I love who just wants me to be me. You know how long I’ve waited for someone like that, someone who just…accepts me?” Santana bats away her tears, “I thought I’d have to leave this shitty town just to finally feel like myself but Brittany made me realize that I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to bend for anyone.”

Santana she feels like a bottle rocket about to set flight after finally laying it all out there like that, but she takes a calming breath and speaks directly from her heart.

“I’m gay and I’m not going to Harvard,” Santana says with confidence, “You either learn to accept that so we can all move on or you stay stuck like this – like Abuela – and we just won’t have a relationship anymore.”

Hector tenses his jaw at that and he actually looks a little hurt, but Santana has been hurt too by his words and lack thereof. She’s not going to tip toe anymore, she’s going to say how she feels when she feels it starting right now.

“Is that what you want?” Santana presses with tears streaming down her face, “Because I don’t. I don’t want to lose my dad because of a stupid legacy or something beyond my control. You think I wanted to be gay? You think I wanted to make my life harder than it already has been?”

“Santana stop,” Hector finally speaks, his voice soft yet unwavering. Santana’s chest heaves and her eyes blur with more tears as Hectors adds, “That’s not my intention either. You aren’t going to lose me and I don’t want lose you.”

Santana tries to calm herself down by taking slow inhales and it makes Hector look to his daughter guiltily. Her thoughts are a scattered mess but despite being scared as hell it feels pretty good to get these things off of her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” He says. His lips part but the words struggle to form. It almost looks like he’s tearing up too which Santana has rarely seen.

“I’m trying – I’m trying to find the right words to say,” He admits, “I grew up very differently than you so these kind of conversations don’t come easy for me. Your Abuelo and Abuela weren’t easy to talk to as you can imagine. We didn’t speak about our feelings or what hurts us. We just put our heads down and ignored them until we thought they went away.”

“Well my feelings aren’t going to be ignored,” Santana says firmly.

“I know,” Hector reasons, “I know. I just want you to know where I’m coming from too. I would never go against your Abuela or Abuelo like this. I’d fall in line because that’s what I’ve always known, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never disagreed with them. I have, but I’m not brave like you – I never spoke up.”

Santana nods as she bats away her tears.

“You know I’m old school. The importance of family and reputation were ingrained in me a long time ago – same as keeping your opinions and feelings to yourself – and I’ve continued that with you when I shouldn’t have. I could see that it was wrong but I did nothing to stop it because of that I have rarely done things for me,” Hector adds, “But you aren’t like that. You have your own voice and – unlike me – you actually use it.”

Not as often as I’d like to, Santana thinks.

“To be honest,” Hector says, “That’s something I admire the most about you.”

Santana looks confused, “Really?”

“Of course,” Hector nods, “You’re doing something I’ve never had the courage to do growing up. I should’ve done a better job encouraging it, even if we don’t always agree.”

Santana blinks away her tears, “That’s just…not the impression I’ve gotten. You’ve been so distant and pushing Harvard on me for so long and then what you said to Brittany about having options? That has never been a thing for me, my future has always felt like it has been planned without my input.”

“Because I thought Harvard was what you wanted,” Hector replies, “You never said anything otherwise so I just assumed you had your heart set on that school. I love you, Santana, and I’ve always wanted what was best for you. If you wanted Harvard, I’d do everything I can to get you there – even if that means giving you some tough love.”

Santana just shakes her head, “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been approachable,” Hector responds earnestly, “I’m sorry for making you think that I’m not proud of you or that I don’t support you because I do. I’m just not very good at showing it. You being gay, sure it caught me by surprise but I’m not like your Abuela. It’s new to me and I don’t know the right things to say most of the time but I do want to learn. I would never love you any less because of it.”

Tears stream freely down Santana’s cheeks and Hector quickly closes the distance between them. He wipes away Santana’s tears with his thumbs and holds her face gently in his hands as he continues to speak.

“You are still my girl, Santana, no matter who you love or what college you want to go to,” Hector says through a smile, “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

Santana can’t help but throw herself into her dad’s arms. She’s tried to be tough, tried to have this hard exterior and pretend that their rocky relationship didn’t phase her too much, but it did. To finally be able to hug him again, to have this kind of reassurance means everything to her.

Hector holds her tightly; it’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly a year.  

“I want to be included in your life. To see you out there after the game tonight with Brittany, you both looking so happy, it made me feel like I was missing something. You know?” Hector sighs as he pulls away. He sits back on his knees and stares at the young woman Santana’s becoming, “I’ve never seen you that happy with any of the boys you’ve brought home and I started to understand a little more but it hurt at the same time. It hurt because I had to learn of your relationship rather than you feeling comfortable enough to tell me on your own. I don’t want it to be like that, I don’t want to miss anything.”

Santana nods, feeling similarly. She just wants their relationship to be as close as it was before. Actually, no. She wants it to be better and she thinks after a conversation like this that maybe that’s a possibility. Maybe they can actually grow from this?

“I don’t want our relationship to be like mine and your Abuelo’s was. I want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s on your mind,” Hector says softly as he brushes through Santana’s hair with his hand, “You and I…we’re a lot alike when it comes to this talking stuff. You’re a lot better at it than I am, so I’m going to need your help.”

“Okay,” Santana mumbles through her smile. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Hector agrees before going to take a steadying breath. He chuckles to himself as he rises from the hardwood floors and takes a seat on the foot rest next to Santana.

There’s a change in the air and Santana’s so grateful for it. There’s a familiar warmth again that has been missing and suddenly the walls don’t feel like they’re closing in on her. The office doesn’t feel so cold and uninviting, because Hector is there softly smiling at her.

“What?” Santana wonders with a nervous laugh.

Hectors shakes his head and shrugs, “I want to know so much but I don’t know where to begin. I have a lot to catch up on I think.”

Santana nods. She can faintly hear her mom’s voice in her head reminding her to give Hector the same opportunities she gave Maribel in regards to inviting him in to get to know the real her.

So she tries it out and asks, “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Hector scratches at his stubbled chin in thought, “I guess if Harvard’s out, where are you thinking now? College is still a must in this family after all.”

Santana catches him wink and she knows that this is meant to be a less serious conversation than the one before. It’s a good feeling to know that she and Hector are on the same page now and that she doesn’t have to harbor this secret any longer – the weight has been lifted.

“I’ve been working on that,” Santana tells him, “Miss Pillsbury says I could go anywhere I want but I’m keeping my options open for now. I just want to be certain before I make my decision.”

“Smart,” Hector replies, “And I’m assuming you won’t want to follow me into dermatology?”

“Definitely not,” Santana scrunches her nose and it makes Hector laugh, “I’ve actually been doing some research on Sports Medicine programs. With my background with the Cheerios and being so close to all kinds of games, I kind of like still being apart of the action on the sidelines…just in a different uniform.”

“As long as you’re sticking to medical I’m happy,” Hector jokes before asking, “And what about Brittany? Has she decided where she will go yet?”

Santana relaxes more, loving how easily they’re able to talk now, “She was speaking to a recruiter from Ohio State after the game tonight, but with her talent she could go anywhere too.”

“That sounds promising,” Hector replies, “She is very talented and what a great game! I’m sure that recruiter was very impressed with her.”

“Yeah,” Santana swells with pride, “She was amazing out there.”

“Speaking of,” Hector starts to smirk, “You said love before, that’s pretty big.”

Santana feels her heart skip a beat as she looks up at her dad, “It’s a relatively new thing.”

“Is it?” Hector asks, “I could sort of suspect something was going on with how protective you were being when she had lunch with us awhile back, but I wasn’t certain. You sometimes act the same way with Quinn so I didn’t want to assume.”

Santana blushes, “I didn’t realize I did that.”

“You’re a Lopez,” Hector says proudly, “We’re protective of who we love.”

“Oh,” Santana starts to blush, “I’ve never met anyone like her before. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. When I’m with Brittany I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I just hope she feels the same way.”

“You’re not sure?” Hector asks.

Santana pauses to wonder: Is she really unsure?

She has often heard the saying actions speak louder than words and if that’s true then Brittany’s speak loud and clear. She’s been patient with Santana’s journey even if she took the long way around, she challenges her when necessary but she’s never forceful. She checks Santana when she needs to be checked, but she also cares for her like no one else has.

She’s no expert, but that sounds a lot like love to her.

“I mean, think I might have an idea,” Santana says, “But it’d be nice to hear it from her.”

Hector smiles, “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

“That’s part of the reason why I want to keep my options open for now,” Santana explains, “Maybe that’s a little crazy since we haven’t been together for long, but I don’t know. I want to at least stay close. We haven’t actually talked too much about what we’ll do after graduation.”

Hector hums through his knowing smile, “You’ll figure it out together. I hear Ohio State has a pretty good Sports Medicine program. One of the best in the country, actually.”

Santana gives him a grin, “I know.”

\\

When Santana leaves Hector’s office a moment later, she’s never felt so light. It actually feels like a weight has been lifted and she’s so happy that the conversation turned out a whole lot better than the one she had with her Abuela. There’s still a lot to repair, but at least they’re on the right track now. At least there’s hope of turning the relationship around, because Santana hated the idea of going on about life without having her dad around.

After everything that happened tonight, after everyone saw her and Brittany together, at least she has one more person in her corner to support her.

\\\\\

Brittany stands in Puck’s kitchen with her back against the wall and a red solo cup in her hand. Mike and Sam talk excitedly about highlights of the game for the hundredth time, but Brittany can’t seem to focus long enough to be apart of the conversation. She just nods mindlessly and laughs when they do, but her head is elsewhere.

Anytime the front door opens, her eyes dart to it hoping that it’s Santana but it never is.

As Sam goes on to re-tell the final play of the game, Brittany fishes out her phone to check if she has any new messages. She frowns when all she sees is the time and the lock screen background of her and Santana from the Homecoming dance.

No new messages. No missed calls.

As the minutes tick by and the house gets more and more crowded, Brittany’s desire to be there dwindles. She can’t celebrate yet, not without her girl, it just doesn’t feel quite right. She recalls Santana mentioning being grounded forever when they spoke at the game and Brittany hopes that isn’t the case – especially with how they ended things.

There’s still so much she wants to say and the longer she holds it in, the more she feels like she’s going to pop like a balloon. She should’ve just said it then and there. Who cares if she makes Beiste and Cooter wait? Making sure that Santana knows she’s loved is important too.

She lets out a heavy sigh before taking a sip of her drink, but the sound grabs Mike’s attention.

He looks curiously at her and asks, “Have you tried calling?”

Brittany blinks out of her thoughts, “Huh?”

“Santana,” He clarifies knowingly, “I know that’s why you’re looking so grumpy. Have you tried calling her?”

“Oh,” Brittany stares into her cup, “No, I haven’t. She said she had something to deal with after the game so I don’t want to interrupt. I just hope she isn’t in trouble or anything.”

“Why would she be in trouble?” He asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess?”

Mike nods, “Well Quinn isn’t here yet either and they’re meant to be getting ready together. Maybe they’re just taking longer than usual?”

Brittany takes a calming breath, “Yeah, maybe.”

\\

Brittany tries to enjoy herself, or at least look a little more interested in the conversation taking place around her. If she spends the time trying to guess what’s happening with Santana, she’ll only ruin everyone else’s time with her worrying. Mike’s probably right anyway about Santana and Quinn taking a long time so there’s no use in getting worked up over it.

However, it doesn’t help that five minutes later Quinn breezes in through the door alone.

Brittany watches as the Co-Captain makes her way through the living room crowded with dancing partygoers, waving at fellow Cheerios as she goes. Her eyes dart back to the door, wondering if Santana is only a few steps behind but it remains closed.

Once Quinn makes her way over to where Brittany, Mike and Sam have been talking, she looks around confusedly.

“Is Santana here?” Quinn asks Brittany.

Brittany frowns, “No, I thought she was with you?”

Quinn shakes her head, “She wasn’t answering my texts so I got ready on my own. I thought you two might be together already.”

Brittany bites her lip, trying to keep that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at bay. She doesn’t want to read too much into everything, but she remembers the look on Hector’s face after Santana kissed her on the field. Brittany knows their history and it puts her on edge. She tries valiantly to keep the pestering questions stacking up in her head at bay but it’s hard when Santana isn’t around to explain.

“I’m sure she’s not too far behind,” Quinn adds reassuringly, “She probably has her phone on silent still. Coach makes us do that during games so no one is distracted by a notification.”

Brittany nods, but she’s still not convinced.

\\

Brittany lasts another ten minutes before she’s had enough of the waiting game. She’s putting down her cup on the counter and grabbing her discarded letterman jacket.

“Where you off to?” Mike asks.

“I’m going to check on her,” Brittany states to her friends as she shrugs it on, “Something feels off.”

“Britt, you’ve been drinking,” Sam points out.

“I’ll walk,” Brittany replies quickly, “I don’t have my car here anyway.”

“Do you want us to come?” Mike asks and Quinn nods too.  

“Let me try her again?” Quinn offers as she gets out her phone, “She does take forever to get ready though so I wouldn’t be too worried, Britt.”

Brittany nods, but she’s passed thinking this is only about how long it takes Santana to get ready. She keeps thinking back to Santana’s cryptic words at the game and it makes her feel uneasy.

If Santana’s being punished for that kiss or something ridiculous then Brittany wants to know for sure and she wants to be the one to give Santana’s dad a piece of her mind. Out of everything Santana’s gone through, he can’t take this away from her too – no one can.

“I’m just going to go to her house,” Brittany tells them, “I’ll let you know when I see her.”

She doesn’t give them much room to argue, just leaves the kitchen and heads for the front door. The living room is packed with the usual crowd and once Brittany starts to weave through them, they try pulling her onto the makeshift dancefloor. Familiar voices call out her name and Puck’s in the center of it all pumping his fist to the beat, but stops when he finds Brittany.

“Bout time, Pierce! I was wondering when you were going to tear up the dancefloor,” Puck cheers, “Where’s your drink?”

Brittany nods to the door, “I’ve got to go.”

Puck frowns, “Leaving? Already? The party’s just getting started!”

“I’ll be back,” Brittany assures him, “I’m only getting Santana.”

“Ah right,” Puck smirks before patting Brittany on the shoulder, “I mean, seeing you two after the game…if you guys ever need a third, I’m – ”

“Not interested,” Brittany says before narrowing her eyes at him.

“Woah!” Puck laughs, not really seeing that he’s crossed a line, “I didn’t even say what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Brittany states, “Don’t make a comment like that about us to me or Santana again. Next time, I won’t be so polite.”

Puck instantly backs off, “Yo, chill! I thought it was a compliment?”

“Really?” Brittany grits her teeth, “You douse yourself in cologne after practice rather than taking an actual shower. So on personal hygiene alone, I don’t think any girl would think your offer was a compliment.”

“Damn, okay! My bad!” Puck says with his pride hurt, “Don’t gotta be so mean.”

Suddenly Kurt appears next to her with Tina and Mercedes flanking him. She’s surprised to see them there, she must’ve been so caught up in worrying over Santana that she didn’t see them there on the dancefloor.

“You okay, Britt?” Kurt asks, looking between the too curiously.

Brittany only glares at Puck one last time before shifting to Kurt, “I’m good. Glad to see you guys here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kurt assures her then glances to Puck, “Especially since Puck graciously opened up the invite to everyone not just the high society.”

“So kind of him,” Mercedes comments sarcastically.

“See, Puckerman? Being a decent guy isn’t so hard,” Brittany adds and waits expectantly for a smart ass comment from Puck.

Surprisingly, Puck looks between everyone and decides he’s outnumbered. With a sigh he waves them all off, “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy yourselves.”

As he disappears back into the sea of dancers, Kurt turns to Brittany and quirks his brow.

“Surely you aren’t leaving already?” He asks, “The night is young.”

“Yeah Britt,” Tina adds, “You’ll have to dance with us!”

“At least one song,” Mercedes says.

“I will,” Brittany assures them, “I just – I’ll be right back. I need to take care of something first.”

Kurt looks a little unsure but it isn’t his place to meddle, so he just shrugs and bids Brittany a goodbye for now. Brittany gives her friends a last reassuring smile before returning to her mission of finding Santana.

\\

The mission ends up being short lived because as soon as Brittany swings open the front door she finds exactly who she’s been missing: Santana. It looks like Brittany caught her in mid-pace and there’s this surprised look on Santana’s face, but it softens when she sees who is staring back.

“Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hey Britt,” Santana replies meekly, “Sorry I’m so late.”

Although there’s a small smile playing on Santana’s lips, something feels a little off. There’s a strange heaviness in the air and Brittany isn’t sure if it’s because she has spent the last hour wondering where Santana was and now all of a sudden she’s standing in front of her. She should feel relieved, except instead it feels like she’s holding her breath – but why?

“That’s alright,” Brittany responds with a shrug, “I was only getting a tiny bit worried, but you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Santana starts to play with her fingers and that’s all the confirmation Brittany needs.

Something’s definitely up.

She closes the door behind her in hopes that it’ll muffle the loud music playing inside and give them some privacy before returning to the party. It’s such a contrast from once being surrounded by friends and music with a drink in her hand just a few minutes ago to now being alone with Santana in the eerie quiet. The only sounds are the muffled bass and the pounding of Brittany’s heart in her ears.

She doesn’t know why she feels suddenly nervous standing there, or why her palms are beginning to sweat, but she tries to shake it off. It’s only Santana, there’s nothing to be nervous about.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Brittany asks, filling the silence, “The party’s inside.”

“I know,” Santana says shyly.

Brittany takes a step closer, “Is everything okay?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. I was just trying to find the courage, I guess, to go in on my own.”

“The courage?”

Santana squeezes her hands together, “Things are changing. Well, thing’s have been changing for awhile now.”

Brittany tilts her head to the side, unsure of where this is going.

Santana softens, “You know, on my way over here JBI sent me a link of his latest episode?”

Brittany bites her lip, “He did?”

“Yeah,” Santana shifts from side to side, “I didn’t watch it, obviously, but I can probably guess what it’s about.”

Brittany looks down at the space between them. Of course someone would find a way to ruin this moment for them, of course they couldn’t just be like everyone else. She’s trying to find the right words to say or some type of solution to all of this, but Santana only lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m guessing everyone knows about us now, even if they weren’t at the game,” Santana continues, “And I’m sure there will be talks and looks because you know this damn town loves to gossip.”  

Brittany nods. Even if she wasn’t here for everything that happened to Santana last year, she feels like maybe this is history repeating itself.

“But you know what?” Santana asks.

“What?”

“I don’t think I care about what they’ll have to say,” Santana says confidently, “Actually, I know I won’t because once I go through that door it’ll mark the beginning of something new.”

“Oh,” Brittany gives Santana a hopeful smile because she wasn’t expecting that kind of answer, “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course,” Santana answers, “I know that once I go in there I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I don’t have anything to hide. I couldn’t care less about what’ll happen to my reputation because I don’t really give a damn about what these people think of me. I can’t believe how long it has taken me to realize that, but I just want to be myself for a change and have a good time with my girlfriend.”

Brittany’s breath hitches at the sound of Santana being so sure of herself. She really has come such a long way and Brittany feels so grateful to have witnessed her journey.

“But I’m still standing out here because I feel like this is a moment,” Santana adds, “I feel like it’s a big moment before everything changes and I wanted to make sure I was ready.”

Brittany silently reaches for Santana’s hand to hold as if to say I’m here for you too.

“And as much of a relief it is to be able to do that now, to be open and sure of who I am, I’m still working on it. It still takes me a second to muster the courage first,” Santana explains.

Brittany nods in understanding, still quietly listening to every word.

“Maybe in the future it won’t take as long,” Santana says, “Maybe I won’t even have to pause, it’ll just come second nature? But right here, right now, I’m not quite there yet. I still have to take a moment because…this is big.”

Brittany stares back adoringly before she’s taking a step closer until she can pull Santana in for a kiss. It’s their first one since being on the field and it’s like coming home.

“You’re so brave, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “One of the bravest I’ve ever met.”

Santana blushes, “Says you.”

“No seriously. I’ve got nothing on you,” Brittany teases before tugging Santana in for a hug. She kisses the top of Santana’s head and inhales the sweet smelling shampoo as smiles, “I’m so proud of you. It might be a big moment, but we can do this together. You and I, we’re in this together. We can stay out here for as long as you like. Whatever you want to do.”

“Thanks,” Santana grins up at her before leaning back, “How's the elbow? I see they didn’t put you in a sling.”

Brittany only shrugs as she glances to it, “It’s a little bruised but it doesn't hurt that bad. I actually forgot all about it.”

“Oh really?” Santana pokes at it lightly, “No tenderness?”

Brittany tries to stifle her groan, “Mm-mm.”

Santana smirks, “Not sure if I believe you.”

Brittany chuckles and tries to flirt, “Feel free to examine me yourself, Doc,”

“Maybe later,” Santana winks before nodding over to the bench off to the side, “Can we sit?”

Brittany nods and lets Santana lead the way. It’s only a few steps away, but once they sit they sink into each other’s sides so comfortably. Brittany doesn’t even mind the cold, not when Santana’s pressed against her – it’s like the warmest she’s ever been.

“I spoke to my dad,” Santana mentions after a pause.

“Oh?” Brittany’s brows rise, “Is that what you were talking about at the game?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. That’s why I was so late and couldn’t return your texts.”

“So,” Brittany presses, “How’d it go? I’m guessing you aren’t grounded for the rest of your life if you’re here or did you sneak out?”

Santana chuckles, “I’m not grounded, no. It went surprisingly well, I think. I finally told him about not wanting to go to Harvard.”

“And how’d he take that?”

“Fine. It was mostly all just a big miscommunication, but once we got to talking about it everything was fine,” Santana answers, “It’s kind of silly how long I put it off because I was so afraid of letting him down. I probably should've said something a lot sooner.”

Brittany nods as she cuddles Santana closer, “But its okay because you got there in the end.”

“True,” Santana smiles up at her, “We actually talked about you too.”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” Santana hums.

“What’d you say?”

Santana shrugs coyly, “Just stuff.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and it makes Santana giggle.

“Nothing bad,” Santana amends, “I promise.”

Brittany pretends to look unconvinced but she soon relents after Santana presses a kiss to her cheek. Who could stand their ground after that, especially when Santana’s cheeks are cutely bunched as she bats her long lashes.

“Alright,” Brittany laughs, “Well…I’m glad everything worked out between you and your dad. I’m sure you feel way better after telling him the truth about Harvard too.”

“Yeah,” Santana replies, “There’s still some work to be done, but we’re in a lot better place now. I think things are looking up for us now.”

“That’s so good!” Brittany beams, “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Santana sighs as she looks up at Brittany affectionately, “I don't know what I would've done without you.”

“I am pretty awesome, huh?” Brittany jokes despite her cheeks flushing from the compliment.

“Don't make me take it back,” Santana chuckles, “But seriously, I don’t see this year turning out the same way it did if you hadn’t moved here.”

“Hey, I needed you just as much as you needed me,” Brittany assures her, “This year wouldn’t have been the same without you either. With everything that happened at the beginning of the year: losing my dad, moving away from the place I’ve lived all my life, feeling like I had to start over. I needed you too. You’re something else, Santana.”

Santana only blushes before the front door is suddenly swung open and their peaceful little bubble is popped.

“There you two are!” Quinn sighs as Mike pokes his head out behind her, “So much for letting us know you found her, Britt.”

Brittany gives her an apologetic look, “Sorry. We started talking.”

Quinn looks between the two and it’s like she’s seeing something there that doesn’t need to be said. She smiles and relaxes upon what she finds.

“Well, you guys coming in or what?” She asks.

“The beer pong table is calling you, Cap,” Mike adds while Quinn rolls her eyes.

“Sam’s apparently started taking bets for this rematch between you and I,” Quinn explains and looks to Santana, “Your girl here thinks she’s the reigning Champ, Lopez, but as I recall she was dethroned last time by me.”

Santana laughs at that and looks to Brittany, “Oh really now?”

Brittany recalls how distracted she was last time – mostly Santana’s fault – and shakes her head, “The last game was a stroke of luck on your part, Fabray. It won’t be happening again.”

Quinn grins at that, “Well let’s see it then.”

Santana looks back at Brittany and whispers to her, “Is it bad that I’m weirdly turned on right now?”

Brittany’s eyes go wide at that, “Okay that isn’t going to help me stay focused, babe.”

“Did you guys find them?” Sam can be heard asking before he appears in the doorway, “Britt! You’ve got to play, the pot is huge!”

“Yo, what the hell’s going on out there?” Puck is heard next, “Why’s everyone crowding the door?”

Everyone starts to talk amongst themselves and the sound of the music is much louder now that the barrier is gone. Brittany only looks to Santana and smiles.

“I guess it’s time to join the party, huh?” Santana asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Only if you’re ready?”

There’s a short pause as they stare at each other because Brittany’s words carry a heavier meaning than the others realize. That first step into Santana’s new chapter is here and Brittany just wants to be sure that Santana has had all the time she needs to reflect.

With the way Santana starts back at Brittany, a look of resolution on her face, Brittany thinks the answer is clear.

“I am,” Santana rises and extends a hand for Brittany to take. The smile on her face starts to grow, “Let’s go in together.”

“Okay,” Brittany beams as she takes Santana’s hand.

“Alright,” Santana clears her throat as she turns to their friends, “Move it, Fabray! Puck, get me and Brittz a drink! Mike, Sam get the table ready. We’ve got a bet to settle!”

As everyone scrambles, Brittany just grins and trails after her always in awe of how Santana can command a room.

\\

The moment is short lived though once they make their way through the kitchen where several Titans have gathered to top up their cups. As if they could sense their quarterback’s presence, they all stop and turn to her.

For a second, she feels Santana tense beside her. Brittany only holds her hand tighter.

“G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T!” They begin to cheer, their collective voices are so loud it feels like it shakes the walls. They barely even notice Brittany and Santana holding hands as they keep chanting happily.

Brittany laughs while trying to quiet them down, but no one seems to listen. She’s all for celebrating, but the attention makes her feel shy – especially now that the alcohol in her systems is long gone.

“Okay guys,” Brittany tries with a chuckle, “We get it. Thank you.”

The Titans settle and give their congratulations again with pats on the shoulder and fist bumps as they disperse from the kitchen. While Sam, Mike and Quinn make their way into the other room where the beer pong tables are set up, Puck heads to the island counter where the drinks are kept.

Brittany and Santana follow, but the blonde can feel Santana’s eyes on her, curious and impressed.

“Were they calling you a goat?” Santana asks around a laugh.

“It's a compliment,” Brittany explains as Puck comes around them to pour their drinks.

“Greatest of all time,” Puck says proudly, “That’s your girl, Lopez. She’s got big things coming up in her future. Another chance at being the hot shot on campus!”

“I mean, obviously,” She quips as Puck hands them their drinks, “She’s hot no matter the campus.”

“Yeah, but not just any campus…” Puck smirks.

Santana glances between them looking slightly confused, “What’s he talking about?”

It isn’t until then that Brittany realizes she’s been so caught up in finding Santana and their conversation on porch that she hasn’t told Santana about the OSU recruiter yet.

“So that recruiter Coach wanted me to meet after the game?” Brittany tells Santana, “He wants to schedule a meeting with me after Christmas break, maybe have me come up to tour the facilities.”

Santana’s eyes widen as she turns to her, “Really? Oh my God! B, that's huge!”

“I know,” Brittany replies, “He said he was impressed. Apparently, I’ve got one heck of an arm and that my accuracy is like crazy good. All things I already knew, but it was really cool to hear it from someone like him. Ohio State is one of the top schools in the football world so if he’s complimenting me then…it’s something to be proud of. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but it looks promising for me.”

“That’s amazing,” Santana replies as she glides her hand up Brittany’s arm lovingly, “He’d be crazy not to take you on. You’re like a football goddess.”

Brittany blushes, “I don’t know about all that...”

“It’s true, Pierce, and you know it!” Puck smirks, “Now can we see what that arm can do at pong? I’ve got big money on this game!”

Santana rolls her eyes at him, but instead of cursing him out she just looks to Brittany and holds her hand tighter.

“I’m proud of you, babe,” She says softly, “Really. If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

Brittany can only smile fondly in response as they make their way to the other room.

\\

Just like their first showdown, the match between Brittany and Quinn is a nail biter.

The audience is even bigger than before, but Brittany isn’t phased too much by them – she’s more focused on impressing Santana with her mad skills. Unlike the last time, Santana lingers by her side whispering sweet words of encouragement mixed in with flirty compliments that makes Brittany’s face feel flush.

Thankfully she’s able to blame it on the alcohol and no one else seems to notice.

So far, she’s ahead of Quinn by three cups but Brittany knows she can’t get cocky just yet – even if Santana’s doing all the shit-talking for her.

“Where the hell were you aiming, Fabray?” Santana jokes as the ball bounces off the edge of the table and into the crowd of bystanders, “I thought you were good at this game? Britt’s working with a sore elbow, step your game up!”

“Will you pipe down over there?” Quinn grumbles before Brittany sinks another cup.

“Drink up,” Brittany smirks while Santana cheers.

Quinn just rolls her eyes as she goes for the cup, “I play better when I’m drunk anyway.”

“Excuses,” Santana laughs before leaning in to kiss Brittany’s cheek, “You’re doing great, B.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” Brittany giggles.

“Whatever it is, keep doing it,” Santana grins and fires down another insult in Quinn’s direction.

Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s being so carefree but she’s sure it’s also the alcohol taking effect. Either way, she curls her arm around Santana’s waist and gives her a kiss back loving how comfortable they are about doing this in public. As she takes a look around them, she notices no one stares – no one even looks their way.

Maybe Santana’s right about this being the beginning of something new? Maybe the hype of something they’ve all deemed so scandalous has died down? Maybe they can finally be like any other couple out there?

Brittany’s train of thought is broken by the sound of a pong ball plopping into one of her cups though. Quinn and Mike cheer from the other end while Santana waves them off.

“Whatever! You’re still losing,” Santana tells them but they don’t hear her – Mike and Quinn are too busy sharing a celebratory kiss.

“Quinn’s about to redeem herself, Britt!” Sam warns, “Watch out.”

Quinn just smirks as she takes a big gulp of her drink.

\\

Although Quinn’s able to tie the score, her redemption tour doesn’t end up working in her favor. With just one cup left on each side, it felt reminiscent of their last match. Only this time, Santana’s there to whisper into Brittany’s ear a very promising reward should she win this game.

That was all the incentive Brittany needed to set the record straight on who the real champ of beer pong was. On her next go, she sinks her ball into Quinn’s last cup with one swift motion.

“Yeah! Take that, Fabray!” Santana quips.

The room erupts in cheers along with Santana while Sam moves around to collect the winnings.

“Well earned, Cap,” He says as he hands over a wad of cash to Brittany.

Brittany chuckles as she takes the stack. She flips through it before handing him a twenty, “For your support.”

Sam bows his head before tucking the bill away in his pocket, “Thanks!”

As Brittany does the same, Santana comes up from behind and slides her arms around Brittany’s waist.

“What about me?” Santana husks against the back of her neck, “What do I get?”

The sound tugs at something deep within Brittany – something that makes her want take Santana to a dark empty room where they can be alone – but she just bites her lip as she turns in Santana’s arms. There’s this familiar glimmer in her pretty brown eyes that seem to darken as they lower to Brittany’s lips.

Santana’s not being subtle and Brittany revels in it.  

“Baby, you can have whatever you like,” Brittany flirts lowly.

Santana lets out a raspy chuckle, but soon they’re interrupted by Quinn and Mike joining them from their side of the table.

“Well played,” Quinn points out around a smirk, “Even with your elbow.”

Brittany chuckles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders, “Had my good luck charm with me this time.”

Santana snorts at Brittany’s corniness as she pinches lightly at her side. They all fall into casual conversation as they watch the next round of beer pong, sipping their drinks and laughing along with whatever impression Sam tries.

“So what's the plan now that the season's over?” Mike asks before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in, “There's still that spot on my team for synchronized swimming?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I think I'll pass.”

“I'm sure Coach Sylvester wouldn't say no to you joining the squad?” Quinn offers.

Santana scoffs, “Sure she would. She's not going to extend the offer twice. Think about her pride.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Sorry babe,” Santana nudges Brittany as she begins to smirk, “You'll have to do a little begging if you really want it.”

Quinn practically facepalms at Santana’s lack of subtilty while the guys playfully catcall the couple. Santana’s looks quite pleased with herself for that innuendo too and it makes Brittany laugh, trying to mask being so flustered by the comment.

“Oh, I'm sure I could get myself on the team,” Brittany says, “I can be pretty convincing.”

“Ooooh,” Mike and Sam tease in unison.

Santana rolls her eyes at their commentary, “Shut up.”

Brittany chuckles, “But on a serious note, I don't think I'll try joining the Cheerios either.”

“What then?” Quinn wonders.

“Going to whip the Puck Heads into shape next?” Mike jokes.

“They need it!” Sam laughs, “Wait can you play hockey too?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’m not very good.”

“So there is something you can't do?” Santana teases quietly.

Brittany bumps her girlfriend with her hip before replying, “I think I’ll keep up my training instead and just focus on my studies for the most part. You know, spend more time with my family and my girl.”

“My girl,” Mike parrots to Sam before they start giggling like a couple of school girls.

“Q, do something about him,” Santana groans.

Quinn smirks, “No way. You too are cute. Mike and I might actually have some real competition when Prom season comes around.”

“Please,” Santana holds up her hand, “Brittz and I totally have that in the bag.”

Brittany nods, “It's true. We're awesome.”

“That’s right,” Santana lifts her chin proudly.

“We’ll see,” Quinn waves off although there’s a proud smile on her face, “If you change your mind about the Cheerios, Britt, let me know.”

“Sure,” Brittany nods, “I think I’ll be set on just training though.”

“Especially if you’re headed to OSU,” Sam cheers before he and Mike high five.

Brittany smiles at their enthusiasm but then she catches a glimpse of Santana’s look of somberness. She’s not really sure how to interpret it, but the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach makes her want to explain further.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” Brittany clarifies, “I still want to weight up all my options when they come.”

She makes a point to glance in Santana’s direction as she speaks, wanting to give her this reassurance that she hasn’t made a decision yet. Santana seems to catch on and smiles in return.

“That’ll take you forever,” Santana jokes, “There’s bound to be a lot of them.”

Brittany just smiles. She hopes Santana’s right, but even if she isn’t she’s happy with her current outlook.

\\

The rest of Brittany’s night is spent mostly on the dancefloor with her friends, a cold drink in her hand and her super hot girlfriend grinding against her. It’s the most fun she has had in awhile and it feels even more relaxed than usual now that she has another Championship win beneath her belt.

Actually, there’s so much to celebrate tonight so it seems that everyone is in high spirits. Crowds of people that wouldn’t usually mingle are mingling, the drinks are flowing, the dancefloor is packed – even if Finn looks like he’s sleepwalking and Sugar’s taken over the DJ booth again.

There’s this satisfying buzz in the air, this comforting feeling that everything will somehow be alright from now on. When Brittany looks to her side, she finds Santana watching her with this knowing grin.

“What?” Brittany starts to smile too.

Santana only shrugs, “You wanna go outside with me? I need some air.”

“Sure,” Brittany says and as she starts to lead the way to the back door she’s hit with a strange sense of déjà vu. She wonders what it could be as she swipes a water bottle from the cooler and slides open the back door.

They continue to out onto the back porch and head to the pool chairs across the way. There’s a few others standing around the fire pit but they’re too far away for them to notice Santana and Brittany taking a seat. The two cuddle up together for warmth, but the fresh air feels nice on their flushed faces.

“You having a good time?” Brittany wonders as she twists off the cap of the water bottle and hands it to Santana first.

“With you? Always,” Santana winks before taking a sip. Once she finishes she passes it back to Brittany, “You?”

“Duh.”

There’s a comfortable pause where they just stare in the direction of the house, watching the shadows of partygoers cross the windows. While they pass the water bottle they share back and forth, something still feels oddly reminiscent but Brittany can’t quite put her finger on it. She has a pretty strong buzz going on so it’s no wonder she can’t think straight, but it still makes her ponder.

“So Ohio State, huh?” Santana says after a moment and it sounds like there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice. Maybe it’s only the cold though as she adds, “Keeping it close to home?”

''I don't want to get my hopes up just yet, but it would be pretty cool,” Brittany explains.

“They'd be crazy not to have you.”

“So you’ve said,” Brittany smirks.

Santana laughs but becomes a little shy as she averts her eyes to the bottle in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a moment as she picks at the label. When she does, it makes Brittany’s heart race.

“Maybe I'll see you there?”

Brittany thinks her ears have deceived her once again. She blinks and asks, “Wait, where? OSU?”

“Yeah,” Santana says hesitantly.

Brittany can’t help but smile in disbelief, “You applied?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve applied to a lot of places,” Santana responds. There’s still a little hesitance but it slowly fades as she takes in Brittany’s initial reaction, “But Ohio State is at the top of my list if it’s at the top of yours.”

Brittany’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s hearing Santana suggesting the idea of them potentially going to college together. She thought it might’ve been a pipe dream, a silly wish that would never be fulfilled, but hearing Santana’s offer makes her feel like she’s on top of the world.  

“It has a pretty good Sports Medicine program,” Santana continues upon Brittany’s silence, “And I kind of also like the idea that I wouldn't be too far from you if that’s where you decide to go. I know you’ll be super busy with practice and training. I’ll probably be super busy too but – all the more reason to stay close by?”

There’s a momentary lapse of judgment on Santana’s end though because Brittany still hasn’t said anything so she quickly begins to ramble on.

“Unless you don’t want to do that. That’s cool too because maybe it’s weird to think that far ahead. Is it weird?” Santana questions, “A lot can change in the next six months. Like what if we break up or end up hating each other?”

Brittany softens, “I could never hate you. That’s silly.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Santana shakes away the idea, “I know we've only been dating for a little while and we’ve never really talked about what we want to do in the future – like after we graduate – but I don’t know. Staying close to you felt right so I just…I wanted to put it out there.”

Brittany finally finds her voice and replies, “That sounds like an awesome idea.”

Santana looks hopeful, “Really?”

“As long as this is what you want to do too,” Brittany clarifies, “I don't want to be the one to keep you here just because we're together. I want you to follow your dreams too, even if that means being apart for a little bit. It might be hard, but we could find a way. I just – I want to make sure that you’re not doing this because of me.”

“It's what I want,” Santana says confidently, “I'm sure of it. I’m only doing things for me now. I’ve actually been thinking about it for awhile now, I was just a little nervous about saying something out loud too soon. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it a few times too,” Brittany chuckles as she drapes her arm around Santana, “You and I in college together sounds so cool.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Santana smirks.

Brittany nods, “So Sports Medicine, huh? You really want to be a doctor after all.”

Santana blushes, “You know, I could never see myself being the kind of doctor my dad is because it's super boring and I couldn't justify going through all that schooling to be bored for the rest of my life. No offense to him, but no way.”

Brittany giggles at Santana’s reasoning and the way she crinkles her nose cutely.

“I figure it’s time to have something of my own. I can continue the Lopez legacy in a roundabout way, I’m just adding my own touch.”

“Makes sense,” Brittany shrugs.

“So, I’ve done my research though and I think Sports Medicine might just be my thing,” Santana adds, “I'm apart of the action without actually being in it. It’s exciting and just my speed and who knows, maybe I’ll come across people like you?”

“Like me?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “You know – people who strive to make a difference in a sport that they love. People who do the work to leave a positive impression behind. People who can influence entire teams for the better – like you.”

Brittany’s a little in awe of Santana, “You really think that about me?”

“Of course I do,” Santana replies easily, “You’re smart, you’re talented, and you’re a good person. You know how hard it is to be all three? You do it with such ease. You've inspired me, Britt, and I’m sure I’m not the only one out there. I’m just the lucky one that gets to date you too.”

Brittany chuckles at that as she starts to blush. Santana grins and leans in a little closer.

“In a way, you’ve made me remember why I ever wanted to be a doctor in the first place.”

“Really?”

Santana hums, “You’ve taught me so much without realizing it. You’ve taught me how to go after the things that I want, no matter what the obstacles may be, because what awaits at the end is so worth it. I know it’s true because here I am sitting with you.”

Brittany’s so taken aback by Santana’s words that she can only say three in response. It’s the only three words that have been repeating over and over again in her head since they were back on the field together. At first it was a quiet whisper, but after everything Santana just said – Brittany can’t hold back any longer.

“I love you.”

She says it simply around a look of pure adoration because that’s exactly what she feels at this very moment for Santana – complete adoration.

Santana sputters out a disbelieving laugh, “You do?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Brittany giggles, “I meant to tell you earlier at the game but I guess I was just stunned more than anything. I didn’t expect you to be the one to say it first.”

“You and me both.”

“Yeah,” Brittany says shyly, “Actually, I've been meaning to tell you for awhile now. There's been so many times that I felt like I was just going to blurt it out, but I didn't know if you'd feel the same way and l was nervous that – I don’t know. I was nervous that maybe I was moving too fast. I didn’t want to scare you off either.”

Santana smiles at that and it eases Brittany’s nerves a little as they settle into another comfortable silence.

After all the loss she has endured this year and all the obstacles she has faced since moving to Lima, she’s never felt so wholly content than she does at this very moment. There’s been times when everything has felt too serious, too hopeless even, so to be where she is now is something really special.

Brittany always felt like she was a great playmaker, not just on the field, but in life too. She always felt like she could make the best out of any situation, but this year really tested her. The hurt she felt after losing her dad was something she didn’t think she’d ever recover from and she didn’t think it was possible to pull herself out of that dark place she’d sometimes find herself in.

But here, in Lima of all places, it was like the sun began to shine on her once again.

She met Santana and found herself on a brand new football team and everything else started to fall into place – she began to thrive once more. That unbearable pain from before still lingers but it’s only a dull ache now compared to what it once was. When she thinks about how much she has grown in such a short amount of time, she’s reminded of where it all started – and that’s when it hits her.

That feeling of déjà vu that has resided in the back of her mind starts to make sense!

As Brittany glances over to the clear glass of the sliding door they exited from earlier, she remembers what it was like being on the other side of it months ago. She remembers the similar thrum of dance music, the faceless bodies swaying about to the beat, the cold beer in her hand. She was starting to get used to the idea of spending her senior year in Lima.

She remembers thinking that maybe this place won’t be so bad after all, maybe it won’t be so lonely? She was already off to a great start by finding herself a place with the Titans and there was also her budding friendship with Mike and Sam. She even had a place to sit at lunch so she didn’t have to do the new kid walk of shame into the cafeteria.

Brittany felt hopeful and then she remembers seeing her for the first time.

Santana, in her tight skirt and low-cut top. Santana, with her hair and make up perfectly styled. Santana, looking like she belonged on a cover of a magazine with how gorgeous she was just sitting poolside.

At the memory, Brittany glances from the door to her side where Santana watches quietly. She finds herself smiling at how it’s nearly the exact same spot as the first time she ever saw her.

“What?” Santana wonders, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking,” Brittany answers, “This spot is pretty special.”

Santana quirks a brow as she looks around, “Is it?”

“Totally,” Brittany replies before pointing over to the edge of the pool, “The first time I ever saw you, you were sitting right over there.”

Santana chuckles, “Was I?”

“Yup!” Brittany grins, “You were sitting by the pool with Quinn and I remember thinking how I’ve never seen a girl looking so sad at a party before.”

“Oh,” Santana blushes, “I used to hate coming to these things. You know, I nearly didn’t go to that one?”

“Really?”

“I just didn’t have the energy for it,” Santana shrugs, “But I showed up because I thought I had to – for appearances sake. Also because Quinn wanted to see Mike and she didn’t want to go alone.”

Brittany chuckles, “Well I’m glad you came anyway. Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself by being the sad girl…”

Brittany gives her a amused look, “I also remember thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

Santana smirks, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany starts to smirk too, “This spot is even more special now because this is where you kissed me for the first time.”

Santana softens, “It is, isn’t it?”

They keep trading these smitten grins as they sink into each other’s sides. It feels like it has been the longest day ever, but she’s so happy that she’s ending it like this – with Santana by her side in there little bubble of happiness and…so in love.

So in love, that gets Brittany thinking.

She contemplates if she really wants to be this truthful but she figures the alcohol is making her speak more freely than usual, so why not? Honesty has always been the best policy anyway, so Petey says.

“You want to hear something funny?” Brittany quietly asks a moment later.

“What?”

She inhales a shaky breath before saying, “I've never said that to anyone – I love you. I mean, I've had love for people and I've said I love you to people in like a friendly way and I of course tell my mom and Pete that I love them too but I've never meant it like this before.”

Santana stares back with this adorably confused look on her face and it makes Brittany blush. It all makes sense in her head, but she isn’t sure if it’s translating the right way out loud.

“I've never meant it like,” Brittany pauses for a moment before she smiles, “Like I’m in love with you.”

Santana turns to her with this awed expression on her face. It’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing or that Brittany’s speaking in gibberish. Dark brown eyes shift back and forth as if she’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t going to come. When Brittany only continues to stare back – sure and unwavering – Santana lets out a shy giggle.

“You're in love with me?” She asks breathlessly.

Brittany nods, “I am.”

“Wow,” Santana blushes. Her lips part and press after that but the words don’t form. It isn’t until Santana let’s out another shy giggle before staring back at Brittany and softening, “Well, don't I feel special.”

“So you should,” Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s trying so hard to be cool about it although she can tell that Santana’s anything but cool on the inside.

Santana gives her one last look of disbelief before leaning in like she’s about to tell her a deep dark secret, “You know what?”

“What?”

Santana bites her lip before saying, “I've never told anyone that I love them before. You’re the first.”

“Really?” Brittany feels like she’s floating again, “Now I feel special too.”

“So you should,” Santana teases.

Brittany giggles at her response before settling into her side.

What a whirlwind of a year it has been! Never would she have thought that this is how she’d be ending it, with an amazing girlfriend by her side and another championship title in her possession. It makes her wonder what the rest of the school year has in store for her, it makes her wonder what obstacles she’s bound to face.

She knows they’re inevitable, because nothing comes easy. If anything, this past year has taught her that much. But this time she has something she didn’t have before – she has someone she loves and who loves her back.

She has Santana.

With her, Brittany thinks anything is possible.

#Posting this final chapter is so satisfying lol #Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #QB!Britt

[golden-barnes]

Divinità

Prologue: Salvezza

Bucky Barnes X F! Reader

Description of the series: Au! Divinità. A deity. A goddess. One that Bucky has only seen 3 times before and now he can’t get Y/N out of his head. So he decided to put an idealized version of Y/N in his books. But what will happen when he gets to meet the real Y/N? Will you still be his deity?

Summary: (Salvation) The three times Bucky has seen Y/N and how his life changed because of that.

Warning: Curse words, grumpy Bucky, ptsd attacks and war mentions

Word count:1.5k words (I think that’s a lot for a prologue but I got carried away) 

A/N: I (loosely) based this off the Dante Alighieri and Beatrice Portinari story but with a modern twist. This is my first series in years, so I am a little rusty but I am very excited about it.

Past:

The first time he saw her: 

James Buchanan Barnes hated the center. And he made it goddamn clear that it was the worst and that he rather be anywhere else than there. After coming home from his last tour, with one less hand, Sam and Steve decided it would be for the best that he went to the Military Rehabilitation Center. He understood why they wanted him to get help and it wasn’t like they forced him, he truly wanted to get better. He was grateful that they cared about him so much to help him. And the center helped him a lot. He was getting fewer nightmares. The nurses were nice. He likes his physical therapist, even though he thinks that she underestimates him. But he is making some progress, more than anyone in the center. The food is decent, a lot better than what he ate when he was stationed. He liked going to the small library that they had in the center. There was a little park next to the center that he likes to go for a run in the mornings. He was finally starting to feel normal, or rather as normal as he could possibly get. 

His psychologist, on the other hand, is a nuisance. It wasn’t that he is a bad guy, it’s just that Bucky hates talking about himself and he swears the psychologist is out to get him.Sam thinks that he is just being dramatic but he still claims that he hates him. He recommended (even though Bucky says that he ordered him) to keep a journal. To fuck with him, Bucky decided to write some random things. They were borderline poems but Bucky would never admit that. In one of his journal entries, he wrote  about some french fries he ate in Belgium. One time he just rambled about a blue bird. Doc wasn’t pleased with that one in particular.

“You have to write about your feelings, Mr Barnes. That is what the journal is for.” He reprimanded  him in one of his sessions. But Bucky wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That is until today.

His session with the irritating physiologist started normal. The whole "How do you feel Barnes?" and "did you have any nightmares last night or any anxiety attacks?"  Which the answer was yes. He didn't particularly wake up on the right side of the bed. Meaning that this session was getting on his nerves more than usual.

Then there was a knock on a door before he could answer the doctor's questions.

"Excuse me, doctor. The director told me to come get you. Apparently there's a situation in the lunchroom." From the door emerged the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. Her presence just filled the room, in a way he has never seen. It was as if she was radiating calmness. For a few minutes, all of his worries and his fears just vanished. His mind was only focused on her. On the way her eyes were warm and made him feel comfort. On the smile she was giving him. Oh that smile. He knew that he was now addicted to it and would do anything to see it again.

“Behold, a deity stronger than I; who coming, shall rule over me.”

 Was the first thing that came into his mind when she left the room with the psychologist. That night when he wrote in his journal, he wrote about her. 

A month later;

The second time he saw her

Veteran’s day in the center wasn’t as fun as a lot of people think it is. It would be crowded with family members. Kids would bring their toys to show them to their grandparents. There would be a cookout outside for all the vets and their families. Even fucking games, there were little challenges and shit for the families to have fun with. The ruckus was too much for Bucky. Bucky always made it a point not to celebrate this holiday.

 “First of all, it’s dumb. If you wanted to do something for the veterans, maybe you should give the centers more money to operate. And, I don’t know, make more fucking centers. Second of fucking all, why make so much noise? Seriously, can’t we have ONE silent holiday?” He once told Sam and Steve. To which Sam replied with a “stop being such a grumpy motherfucker”.

This year, he decided to hide in the library instead of his room. He wanted to finish this new book Steve brought him in peace and quiet. And since the library was on the other side of the rehabilitation center, he knew it was gonna be his little safe haven. What he didn’t expect was to see her there.

He stopped at the entrance, astonished and amazed. With a flowy flower dress and peonies in her hand. She was looking at the books that they had. Running her fingers over the spines of the books. Why would she have flowers? Why was she here? Was she staying?

She turned around to see him and gave him the same addicting smile that she gave him the other day.

“I thought I was going to be the only one here. I was just looking at the books. Don’t worry I’m going to leave.” Bucky swears her voice is like honey to his ears. His senses were overpowered by the smell of her perfume. Was that vainilla? Or was it cinnamon? He couldn't guess. He was stuck there. He couldn’t talk or move. She gave him another warm smile, one that made her eyes crinkle a bit. Bucky would bet anything to have her permanently smile like that.

“Oh before I leave, here’s a flower. Happy veteran’s day. Thank you for everything” She gave him one of her peonies. Their fingers slightly touched and Bucky felt a small shock. He probably looked super dumb to her. With widened eyes and his mouth slightly opened, he probably looked like an idiot. Damn it Bucky, she might think that you are a creep. 

She smiled again and pointed at the door. Fuck, I haven’t moved from the entrance. She can’t pass. Way to go Barnes! 

“Thank you soldier.”She winked at him. But little did she know that he wouldn’t stop thinking of her wink. 

Another one for the journal, I guess. He thought letting his mind run wild with the image of her.

Two months later; 

The third time he saw her

James Buchanan Barnes was consumed by two thoughts. Number one, he had finished all his physical therapy and his nightmares and panic attacks were less, but he was much better at dealing with it. So that means that it was his last week at the center. He was so happy. He has already said goodbye to all the nurses, his doctors and he even said a nice goodbye to his insufferable psychologist, who he in the end grew to like. He was packing all his things and was waiting in the reception area for Steve to pick him up.

His second thought was her. He hadn’t seen her since that Veteran’s day where he acted like an idiot in front of her. Fucking damn it. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Almost every night since then, he kept writing about her. It was like his brain was trapped in a box, captured until he wrote out everything he could about her. He never even formed a formal conversation with her, but he still couldn’t help but think about her. About how her presence soothes him. How her smile filled him with joy. How the flower she gave him was the most important thing he has ever received. Hell, he learned how to press flowers and made it into his bookmark. 

“These last entries were really good Mister Barnes. It is like something I would see in a poetry book.” His psychologist once noted. And he couldn't help to agree with him. She had become his muse. And I don’t even know her name.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. As if Bucky called her with his mind, she appeared. With the same heart melting smile and the brightest aura. The receptionist even smiled when she saw her. She walked in, and the room got lighter. Can a human glow? Because Bucky thinks that she is glowing, as if small specks of glitter were emanating from her body and reflecting back at him. Did it make sense? Not one bit, but Bucky couldn’t describe it any other way. 

“Good morning Y/N. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”  Y/N let out a soft chuckle at the receptionist’s words. She reached to sign in the sign in list. 

“Buck! Hey buddy, ready to go?” Steve had walked in and Bucky hadn’t even noticed

“Ye-yeah. Let’s go” Grabbing his bags, he started to walk out the center. But not without giving Y/N one last look.

If salvation had another name, Bucky would bet his life that it was Y/N.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #wintersoldier x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au

[nohomo-mrfrodo]

And now it's time to play: WHAT'S THAT NAME?

Gandalf: Hello! Hello! And welcome to "What's that name!" The rules are simple, we show you a person, and you tell us their name. Our contestants today are Legolas and Arwen.

Gandalf: And the first question goes to Legolas: Beren is one of the most important men in the history of Middle Earth, but his wife is a star in her own right. Legolas, what's that name?!

Legolas: Luthien!

Gandalf: That's right, five dollars to you. Now Arwen, although he was killed by a Balrog, we will never forget this master craftsman and king of Noldor. What's that name?

Arwen: I actually know this one: Fëanor.

Gandalf: That's right, five bucks to you.

Alright, now Legolas. For $250,000. What's that name!

*Gimli and Gloin walk out*

Gimli: Hi Legolas, it's me, your husband.

Legolas: Hey Gim!

Gloin: And I'm his father, what's my name?

Legolas: Hey ... great to see you!

Gloin: It's great to see you. We've gone out to dinner like 20 time, sat next to each other at multiple weddings. What's my name?

Legolas: uh ... it's uh ...

Gandalf: Doesn't seem like you don't know his name.

Legolas: Of course I do, of course I do. It's, uh, Dwalin.

Gandalf: Audience?

Audience: GLOIN!

*Gloin and Gimli walk off*

Legolas: Gimli, Gimli, I am so sorry.

Gandalf: Interesting choice to apologize to him instead of his dad. I guess you just don't consider dwarves as important as elves.

Legolas: ... What kind of horrible game show is this?

Gandalf: It's What's That Name. Arwen, you're up next, and we've got another walk on clue.

*Faramir and Eowyn walk out*

Faramir: Hey, it's Faramir, steward of Gondor, where you are the only female leader.

Eowyn: And I'm his wife. So, we met at your wedding celebration, and when I showed up, you gave me a big hug and said "Thank god I'm not the only woman here anymore!" And every time you see me, you say "Hey lady" or "Hey mamma!" What's my name?

Arwen: Mamma?

Gandalf: Oh, not gonna cut it, Mamma! Audience!

Audience: Eowyn!

Eowyn: But Fëanor you know.

*Faramir and Eowyn walk off*

Legolas: That's even worse than mine.

Gandalf: How is that worse. Get all the cameras on him. finish that thought. How is that worst than yours?

Legolas: Well ... uh, she's a woman, so at a party, you'd think she'd want to talk to the other wives?

Arwen: Other wives?

Gandalf: She's the goddamn Queen of Gondor, buddy. Unreal, unreal. Round two!

Legolas: Hey I wanna say something. I think you're kind of a jerk.

Gandalf: Well I think you're kind of a jerk.

Legolas: Yeah, well, let's see you name all of your friends wives.

Gandalf: Those guys? They don't have wives. I run with a crew of problematic bachelors, and we call ourselves "The Company."

Gandalf: It's time for our final clue, and this one is dealers choice.

*The four hobbits walk out*

Gandalf: Legolas, these are four members of the Fellowship of the Ring, and we know you don't know any of their names.

Legolas: You are correct.

Gandalf: So, here's the deal. You pick the one you think you've got the best shot at.

Legolas: Middle one.

Frodo: Aw, thanks.

Gandalf: And because you're such a dumb donkey, we're going to give you almost all the letters: _RODO

Legolas: Can I have the first letter?

Gandalf: No. That would be all of them.

Legolas: Do I have to look at him while I guess?

Gandalf: Right in the eyes. For ten million dollars, what's that name!

Legolas: I am so sorry. Brodo?! Drodo?! Frodo?! Shmodo?!

Gandalf: You think his name is Shmodo? No. Audience!

Audience: Frodo!

Legolas: I said Frodo!

Gandalf: Yeah, but you didn't know it.

Legolas: hey, Gandalf, why do you play this game? What's it all for? What do you want?

Gandalf: In a word? Chaos.

Gandalf: That's the game, but stick around, because Legolas is a guest on our next show: Does the King of Laketown have a son?

Legolas: No, he doesn't.

Gandalf: He's 13 years old. Good night!

#this is so stupid and it took me so long to write but i don't care #it was in my brain and now its out of my brain #legolas greenleaf #arwen undomiel #gandalf the grey #The Lord of the Rings #frodo baggins #lord of the rings incorrect quotes #source: snl #its also funny because gandalf canonically forgets his own name at one point #long post

[stark-tony]

most recent bookmarks (6/18/21)

mcu

you game? cake time? by iron_spider (3k, T, pepperony) Peter stares at him.“I’d like your help,” Tony says, gesturing towards the ton of cakes. “Your refined palette.”Peter snorts. He can’t lie, excitement is rising in his throat and in his stomach, and he barely ate at lunch today because he was trying to finish up the book report before sixth period. “Does Miss Potts know you picked me?”“You can call her Pepper.”Peter cocks his head. “Does Pepper know you picked me to help you?”

The Dangers of Sleeping on the Upside of the Bed by Honorable_mention (1.1k, G, gen, quarantine) Midtown High School’s Academic Decathlon team had moved online. Once a week, even during the summer, everyone would log on and chat for a few minutes before trying to beat each other on Protobowl while hurling barely school appropriate threats at each other. It was really quite a lot of fun.Through these online meetings Cindy Moon had gotten the opportunity to intimately learn about her teammates in a way she hadn’t been able to when they were in-person. A person’s room and the way they talked to their family told you a lot about them.In which the members of the Academic Decathlon team get the chance to meet Peter's roommates

something bright coming his way by iron_spider (6.5k, T, gen, hurt peter) “Pete,” Tony’s voice says. “I’m heading to your location.”Peter narrows his eyes. Karen’s colors turn from dark red to a softer blue, which he takes as her celebrating Tony’s imminent arrival. How imminent? What?“What?” Peter says again. Like an idiot.“Your numbers aren’t what I like to see and you stopped moving and I was in the area, anyway. You know. Doing Iron Man things. You okay?”Peter blinks. He sees some more lights out ahead of him that he thinks are headlights, and he feels like Karen is trying to even out his vision by changing how things come across on the HUD. She’s failing, but he won’t say that. Can she read his brainwaves? No. Definitely not. Maybe. Either way he doesn’t wanna be mean to her, so he stops thinking.Ugh, his side hurts.

Of All the Nurses’ Offices in All the High Schools... by sahiya (7k, T, gen, outsiders pov, identity reveal, hurt peter) Peter Parker has his own gravitational orbit, and it tends to suck in the people around him. Including burned out school nurses who were just minding their own business.Or: Patrick Carmichael meets Spider-Man (and Tony Stark), adopts a cat, and gets just a little bit better.

a first time for everything by crowkag (7.7k, pepperony, sick peter)  “Why are you whispering?” Pepper was asking, and the other noises were receding away behind the creak of a door and click of a lock.“Because I’m hosting a vigilante super-teen with enhanced hearing this weekend.” He slumped back into the couch cushions. “Or did you forget?”There was a sharp intake of breath.“Peter? Oh god, what did you—”“Nothing,” Tony rushed out, scrambling. “He’s fine. The kid’s fine, honey.”A beat of silence.“Okay, well, he’s not fine, but—”“Tony Stark—”

Is he or Is he not? by Omenthia_Arc (43.2k, G, pepperony, 5 + 1, people think peter is tony’s kid) Five times someone thought that Peter was Tony's biological son and one time everyone thought it.

hp

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy (35.7k, M, drarry, post-hogwarts, domestic) When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too.

The Wrong Sort by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle (289.5k, T, drarry, romione, gryffindor draco, canon divergence, torture)  In which Draco Malfoy is sorted into Gryffindor and everything kind of goes to Hell from there… but hey. At least there’s a chance he won’t grow up to be an awful person. Alternatively titled ‘Draco Malfoy and the Worst Goddamn Seven Years of His Life’

The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (998.6k, E, drarry, wolfstar, romione, neville/ luna, grindeldore, lockhart/snape, time travel, fix it, abuse) All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter.Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

more than getting by by sarewolf (34.4k, M, wolfstar, wolfstar raises harry) “What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

How Like Home by waitingondaisies (63.5k, T, jily, dimension travel) When Sirius falls through the veil, Harry chases after him, determined to find him on the other side. Instead, he finds nothing at all. When he wakes up, he is informed by Unspeakables that he is from an alternate universe.Thanks to his uncanny resemblance to his counterpart, Harry is readily recognized as a duplicate of Harry Potter, a normal fifteen year old boy, and is entrusted to the care of Lily and James Potter. From them, Harry discovers that Voldemort is not, and never was, a threat in this universe.Now, Harry must adapt to life with loving parents in a peaceful world.

Professor Black by Haunted_Frost (29k, T, wolfstar, professor regulus black) Kreacher's unending loyalty has allowed Regulus to survive the Inferi. In order to destroy the horcrux and ensure Voldemort's death, he goes back to Hogwarts, this time as a Potions professor. Years at this position give him new insights, even as the papers rave about how both the Blacks were traitors to their sides.When Sirius gets loose from Azkaban, Regulus knows one thing: he is not going to let his lunatic brother hurt his students.Inspired entirely by this tumblr post.

atla

(let me be) there for you by lesmiserablol (8.5k, T, zukka, post-war, bodyguard sokka, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers) Sokka pulls out a clean piece of parchment and starts to write:Reasons Why Sokka Would Be A Great Bodyguard for Lord ZukoHe smiles in satisfaction at the title. Seeing it in writing only makes him feel more confident in this brilliant, two-minute-old idea of his. Zuko is one of his closest friends, and Sokka is a great fighter, he would be the perfect bodyguard! He has the entirety of his trip in the Fire Nation to prove it to Zuko. This is going to be a piece of cake.(or, Sokka mistakes his crush for just a strong desire to be a guard for Zuko, and Suki is amused)

boy problems by burnt_oranges (22.2k, zukka, mailee, friends to lover, post-war, arranged marriage) “I accidentally signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” Zuko says faintly. He sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed."In which Zuko suffers in a variety of ways, including but not limited to: close and constant proximity to the object of his affections, assassination attempts, and irreparable injuries to his dignity.

we really should google these things first by Bundibird (3k, G, gen, modern) Sokka's aloe vera plant is in need of a good pruning, and what's Sokka gonna do, just throw out all the pruned leaves? When instead he can make aloe vera juice? Come on. (Only - maybe he should have googled this beforehand. Because it turns out there's an edible kind of aloe, and a toxic kind. Guess what kind Sokka has. Go on, guess.)(Or: the modern AU based on the time I nearly poisoned myself with a non-edible succulent.)

spn

Checked Out by whelvenwings (27.1k, G, destiel, dreamhunter, library au, librarian castiel, writer dean, openly bi dean, misunderstandings)  Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

Aim and Ignite by wincechesters (10.3k, M, destiel, cas in the bunker)  After the angels fall and Cas loses his grace, and with Sam still recovering from the toll taken on his body by the trials, Dean starts a prank war as a way to lighten the mood in the bunker and alleviate his boredom. It might just have some unexpected consequences. --- A post-S8 canon AU.

bnha

Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains (among other things) by ADyingFlower (54.2k, T, gen, quirkless midoriya, villain deku) Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains, denies being a villain, has his beloved animal crossing file threatened, kicks ass with a shotgun, is proposed to, learns to deal with his depression, and accidentally kidnaps the son of the number two hero. In that order.Or: Five times Izuku played online with his friends, and one time he played with them in personThen Himiko screams.“CAPTAIN!” “Y-yeah?” Tomura asks almost hesitantly. “LOOK!!” All four of them spin around, right as a cannonball comes soaring inches from Izuku’s head from the Galleon less than a three feet away from them. They scream. “OH FUCK NO NO NO NO! NO!” Dabi yells, running to load the cannons. “DUDE WE HAVE SO MUCH SHIT! NO! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”“Hey guys, guys! Hey, chill!” Izuku shrieks frantically, right as one of the players boards their ship and starts shooting. “CHILL THE FUCK OUT!”

our trust shot full of holes by nolov (louscr) (25.9k, T, gen) When he's twelve, Izuku meets his best friend. Neither of them are especially good at having friends, but they make do.The other shoe drops less than a week into his first year at U.A.

Are You Valued? by cyber_phobia (9.2k, T, dad for one)  "What are you drawing, Izuku?" Hisashi asks with adoration dripping in his voice. "It's Uncle!" Izuku shouts, smacking his dad's arm for daring to ask once more. All the air leaves Hisashi's lungs in one fell swoop.

To Spark A Smile by awefull (1.1k, G, gen, dadzawa) A six-year-old. Aizawa was the guardian of a six-year-old. Aizawa, a pro-hero, who had poor eating habits, and no sleep schedule, was in charge of raising a little girl.He, reasonably, had some concerns.

Long Night in the Valley by Marsalias (53.7k, T, gen, suspected traitor, dad might, dad for one) On paper, the Hero Commission's plan to investigate Midoriya Izuku under the guise of a training course for combating mental quirks is solid, almost foolproof, even. If Midoriya turns out to be innocent, they can pass everything off as part of the training exercise, assuming he even remembered any of it. Otherwise, they could beg forgiveness after the traitor was securely imprisoned in Tartarus.The paper plan failed to take into account the feral ghosts living in Midoriya Izuku's head, or his equally feral living friends.Time to bring on the chaos.

i gave the voices in my head a megaphone by hannahbal (17.3k, todoroki/midoriya/shinsou) ...and they started singing Megan Thee Stallion.(Hitoshi, like any good friend, brainwashes Izuku’s anxiety away for a day so he can know some peace. The problem? Izuku has no fear of god or consequences.Izuku also has no goddamn filter.)

Nothing Could Be More Worthwhile by Krisington (3.5k, G, gen, dad might) Toshinori Yagi wouldn’t say he had let his guard down in retirement, not exactly. It was more accurate to say that he had let his guard down in his true form. He didn’t notice others, and others didn’t notice him. It had become a small pleasure, he realized, one he was reluctant to let go.He should have known better.The man managed to reach All Might’s forehead a split second before All Might grabbed the man’s arm. But a second was just enough.A villain showed All Might a vision of Izuku. Bloodied. Broken. Fading. Was that some future that would come to pass? Toshinori needed to do everything in his power to make sure it wasn't.

everything i wanted by raindrops_0 (9k, T, gen, 5 + 1) Izuku turns to face Hitoshi and flashes a bright smile, eyes folding into crescent moons.Bright like the afternoon sun swallowing Hitoshi whole, bright like All Might’s fucking perfect grin, bright like he’s already a hero.Bright like everything Hitoshi has ever wanted and then more.(Hitoshi can’t help it, but he hates. Of course Izuku can smile as if the whole world is in his hands. He’s never had to fight for every little thing and be hated for it.)Or 5 times Hitoshi misjudged the golden boy of UA, and 1 time he finally understood.

hp/bnha 

Bend Before You Break by orkestrations (16.2k, T, gen) When Izuku set out for his morning run, the last thing he was expecting was to be plucked from his own world by magic and thrown into another universe entirely.Removed from his own conflict and with no way back, he sets himself to figuring out this world and its own incipient war while searching for a way to possibly reverse the spell that brought him here.It's just his luck that the year he arrives is the same year the government decides it's a great idea to bring back the potentially-deadly tournament.

#my fics recs #most recent bookmarks #hp recs #atla recs #mcu recs #bnha recs #spn recs #abuse tw #torture tw