#the BUILDING anticipation of teammates setting this shit up and everyone coming the fuck together

[eclecticopposition]

someone's gotta make phrygian's triumphant musical theme that comes out in scenes like this and name it A Single Shot

#we wish we knew how to make music #hard mode is trying to convey the branched and Keith's description of the weird music that phrygian's true form is #but also we want a very very specific motif from the first A Single Shot thing in Partizan #like guys. guys. do you see this anime with us #can you hear it coming back whenever phrygian takes down something huge by themself in one hit #and the audience going nuts #it's not the main theme this is its own song and it's called a single shot and it is just for this beat #a rare beat but it IS recurring and it's SO cool #the BUILDING anticipation of teammates setting this shit up and everyone coming the fuck together #and then Phrygian giving it all they've got and hitting the final blow #and it's so cool #and then we are coasting on the comedown from that big BAM! climax in the song as Phrygian comes to talk to that prisoner #like this is just paperwork this is just closing it out this is just getting your reward #and then something goes wrong with the music and Phrygian's attempt fails and the guy doesn't leave #and the sound of the principality asserts itself and Phrygian gets hit with war-weary #please someone make this anime please #friends at the table #Palisade #Palisade spoilers #partizan spoilers #Partizan #first mate Phrygian our beloved

[shishu-writes]

hi! your inarizaki manager headcanons were super cute so i was wondering if I could request headcanons or a scenario idm! of inarizaki maybe accidentally making their smol manager cry? 🥺

𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐲

Warnings: Language, Atsumu being mean

WC: 1.5k

Genre: Angst if you squint, fluffy ending

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one! Thank you for the awesome req anon 💞

It had been a long day for everyone, the summer camp was grueling. The first two days of the week-long camp had been going alright, however the boys had lost a lot more games than they had originally anticipated. They just couldn’t seem to get into the groove of it, and it was putting everybody in a slump.

 The night of the second day of camp really put everyone on edge. Kita had called everyone, including you to the room they had been staying in to talk over why they have been in this slump and maybe find a solution. Opposing views on why the team was lacking during the past few days surfaced and Atsumus pessimistic attitude set something off in Suna, which resulted in the boys arguing.

Osamus bad habit of instigating emerged, which escalated the argument to a point where Kitas yelling would only fuel the argument more, which, in turn, made Aran try to calm Kita down, that then led to the two of them also arguing. Hitoshi had enough and left the room for a walk around the building, not even wanting to risk getting involved. Michinari and Ren sat with you in the corner, in silence, Michinari chose to stay purely for entertainment purposes, and Ren just wanted to sleep. 

As you turned to spark conversation with Ren a loud slap echoed through the room. Quickly your head snapped back to the group of boys. It took a couple of seconds to register what was happening. Everyone stood in silence and shock as Suna held his fist, Atsumu gripping his cheek. 

He glared at Suna before reeling back his arm to throw a punch towards him, Kita quickly grabbed his fist and shoved him against the wall, Aran dragged Suna outside, and Ren quickly scrambled up to follow the two boys. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you two think you’re doing but I will absolutely not hesitate to tell coach and get you both kicked off of this fucking team! We aren’t fucking middle schoolers Atsumu! When we have a problem we talk it out like adults we don’t start throwing fucking punches ESPECIALLY when you two are fucking teammates!” Kita yells, barely taking a breath between words. 

“If this shit continues the rest of camp you are both off the team. And you...we will have words.” Kita hisses, directing his final words at Osamu. Kita exits the room, leaving only The Miyas, you, and Michinari. 

Quietly, you shuffle towards Atsumu, who had slumped himself against the wall, sitting on the floor while cupping his cheek. “A-Atsumu…” you whisper, slowly sitting down in front of him while Osamu stands behind you. Slowly you reach your hand out, “Can I...take a look at your cheek for you..? I should bandage it before it starts bruising..” 

Gently you move to place your hand over his and right as the pads of your fingers touch his hand he slaps it away, scattering onto his feet. “Don’t fucking touch me. Get the fuck away from me..” He hisses at you, glaring down at you from above “I just-” “You just what? You’re only here because no other fucking club wanted you around! You thrive on the attention we give you in exchange for what? You nagging at us all hours of the fucking day? Give me a break, you have to be the most annoying girl I've ever met.” 

It takes him a couple seconds to realize what he said, both him and Osamu are silent. Michinar had been slowly making his way out of the room, the door slightly ajar, but he, too, was now frozen in shock. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes until they overflowed. 

Quickly you stood up, running out of the half open door to be faced with the rest of the team who seemingly heard the whole thing. Too ashamed to look up at them you ran past, leaving the building. “I'll get her.” Aran spoke up, running in the direction you left while the rest of the team filed back into the room. 

Atsumu stood, dejected, arms hanging by his sides with a look of regret on his face. “I didn't mean it..” He whispers. Kita sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We know that. She's the only person that could truly ever put up with you...but she doesn’t. And you know how she is. She's going to take it to heart, because it's coming from someone she looks up to.” he whispers.

 Atsumu runs his hands over his face, sitting back on the ground. “Let's give her time...Let Aran work his magic.” Hitoshi says lightheartedly, sitting back on his mat.

-

The next day the team gets a very harsh scolding from their coach, the majority were issued warnings and went on their way. During the first couple hours of practice you were nowhere to be seen. After lunch the coach had called the boys for another meeting back in their room. He sat on the floor, placing his hands on his lap. “Can someone explain to me why Y/n just let me know that after the camp ends she will be resigning from her position?”

Almost immediately everyones heart simultaneously dropped, pure shock riddled with everyone's features. “Sh-she what?” Kita stutters out. “She told me today at lunch that she didn’t feel as though she was the correct person for the job, and that the team needed someone better. She offered me a list of potential new managers, however I feel like this has something to do with the fight that happened last night..” 

The boys all looked at Atsumu and he quickly got up, exiting the room before running to the managers quarters. When he got there he knocked twice, opening it quickly to find you sitting alone on your mat, looking through a list of potential club options. “Y/n!” “A-ah...Atsumu, good afternoon..” you mutter, looking up at him then quickly looking back down. 

“Why are you leaving the club? You know we need you-w-we’d be a mess if you didn’t take care of us like you do..” he stutters. Walking towards you slowly and sitting in front of you on the mat “You guys will be alright, it's not like I do much anyways...I gave a list of some really talented first years to the coach that should be an even better replacement.” “We want you! Y/n I know I said some really...really terrible things but I promise you I didn’t mean a word of it. I was just angry and I had been bottling it all up since we got here and I took it out on you and it wasn't fair. You take such good care of us...You make us each feel cared for and you do everything we ask of you and go above and beyond..You hold us together and.. We will never have a manager that could even compare to you...you’re also...our friend...and i’d hate to see you leave because I was acting like a fucking idiot. Please forgive me.” 

Stifling a sob, you nod. Atsumu wasn't one to show vulnerability to people, you and Osamu were the exception. His words were genuine, and you knew it by the way he looked you in the eyes when he spoke. 

He pulls you in for a tight hug, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. “So you'll stay with the team?” he whispers. “I couldn't just leave my family like that..” you whisper. “If you say some stupid shit like that to Y/n again I wont hesitate to break your nose next time.” A voice speaks up that you immediately identified as Sunas. 

As you looked up, the team was standing at the door, half smiles resting on their lips. “Don't think about leaving us like that again..i'd hate to have those sleepovers at my place monthly if you weren't helping me keep an eye on these idiots.” Kita speaks up, earning a giggle from you. 

You wave the boys over and they all shuffle in, sitting with you. “Let's work really hard the rest of the camp okay? Afterwards I think we need some serious bonding time so I say...Weekend road trip to the beach?” “Fine by me if Kita and Samu drive!” “That was the plan Michinari, you'd kill us halfway there..” “We have to split the Miyas up-” “I call Y/n in my car!” “rock paper scissors over her!” “I'm going in Kita’s car-” “Can we please resume practice now?” the coaches voice calls out through the room, his tone light, a smile adorning his features as you all turn to look at him. 

The team nods, still holding their conversation about seating on the trip down to the beach, and over the next few days they were able to get it back together, surprising the other teams there with the sudden difference in skill. 

You really were the thing that held these boys together.

and they couldn’t ask for a better manager, or a more reliable friend.

#inarizaki x reader #inarizaki #inarizaki haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu insert #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #haikyuu imagines

[nightttdreamers]

Inhale, Exhale (IwaOi one-shot)

hi its been a rlly long time since i’ve written fics but its finals week and i need a distraction.

enjoy a cheesy, cute (maybe a pinch angsty) iwaoi one-shot involving late night first kisses and !!!DRUG USE!!! weed to be exact

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832924 check it out on ao3 if you wanna idk maybe

anyway

Inhale, Exhale | 1/1 | 3325 words

He’s becoming too acquainted with his ceiling.

It’s god-knows-what-o’clock, the last time he checked it was nearing midnight. The boy couldn’t bring himself to turn over and check again, partly for fear of the results, and partly for fear of losing the on-going staring contest he’s having. Oikawa blinks, and he swears the ceiling blinks back.

There’s an uneasy stillness around his room, he feels like he’s disrupting it. He should be sleeping, he’s never felt more exhausted, but some part of his brain just won’t shut off. He clenches his fists, then releases, flexes his toes and releases, pushes his shoulders back, then releases, trying to relieve some of the restlessness he feels. It doesn’t work, only furthers his urge to move, twist around, do anything but lie there and watch his ceiling.

He closes his eyes, too forcefully, trying to conjure up images of sheep or the ocean, something to lull him. All he sees is the ball, that flash of blue and yellow, dancing across his fingers, escaping his grip, plummeting to the floor, too close to the white line, it’s out of his control now it’s-

Out! Signals the whistle of the referee. Oikawa jolts upright. 

He has to move, every part of him is twitching. His hands are in his lap, clench, release, clench, release, grip the comforter until your knuckles turn white. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the game off of his mind. His teammates tried to encourage him, coach had to step in to talk to him because he probably doesn’t trust you anymore, his opponents had those smug looks, even Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say.

Iwaizumi. He didn’t speak to Oikawa after the game, he was too exhausted from picking up his slack. He didn’t even have his usual “you-fucked-up” scowl on, he just looked disappointed.

Oikawa gets out of bed, fumbling a bit as he slides on his pajama pants, grabs a t-shirt. He has to know where he went wrong, what he needs to do, how he can never make those mistakes again. He uses the back door, having gone through this routine enough times to know his parents wouldn’t hear him. It’s cold, but Oikawa is so wired the chill barely affects him. Every set, every call, every spike is running over and over again in his mind as he hurries down the street, route memorized.

Iwaizumi’s window is already open.

Oikawa barely has a moment to question that before he’s knocking against the open glass, poking his head inside. “Iwa?”

The boy in question jumps like he’s going for a spike, nearly falling out of his desk chair. “Fuck, Oikawa, you scared the shit out of me.” That permanent scowl is back, but not as strong, he looks tired.

“Good, you’re awake,” Oikawa replies as he climbs into the other’s room. “It smells in here,” he remarks, mostly to himself.

“It's probably just you stinking it up, does your phone not work or something?” Iwaizumi asks, closing out of whatever he was watching on his computer before fully turning to the other.

“I knocked. How long have I known you? You should be used to this,” Oikawa remarks, rushing through his words a bit.

Iwaizumi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky no one’s home, what do you want?”

“I, um, couldn’t sleep,” Oikawa says, taking a seat on the other's bed. “Okay, it’s not me, it seriously smells in here, what-”

The two boys lock eyes, exchanging bewildered expressions. Then, realization.

“Were you-?”

“Oikawa, wait-”

“Oh my god, you were!”

“No ones home-”

“And you tried to blame it on me?”

“It’s a friday night-”

“Iwa, you were smoking.”

Even in the dim light of the room, Oikawa can see the red flush to his friend’s cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to cover it. It’s quiet for some time, enough for Oikawa to piece together everything, his panic, the window open, that dazed look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi finally concedes, exhaling the word. “Today was stressful, okay? I just wanted to take a break.”

Oikawa tenses. He was the reason today was stressful, him and his performance during their game. “I’m sorry-”

“Do you-” Iwaizumi starts at the same time as him. The two share a little laugh, breaking down the strange tension that was building up. “Um, do you… want some?”

Every anti-drug assembly and health class he’s ever seen play through his head. Weed makes you lethargic, slows you down, makes you lazy, everything Oikawa didn’t want to be. But, Iwa’s using it. Responsible Iwa who hits the back of his head every time Oikawa’s not taking care of himself properly. Iwa who’s avoiding his gaze awkwardly, like he’s guilty of something. Today was stressful, he had said. Without a word, Oikawa nods.

Iwaizumi reaches into a drawer in his desk, pulling out a lighter, a small brown piece of paper, and some cylindrical device. “Gimme a sec,” he says, getting to work.

Oikawa remains on the bed, legs crossed under him, fingers drumming on his knee. There’s still tension in his chest, he hasn’t forgotten why he’s awake right now in the first place. But, he keeps his focus on Iwaizumi’s hands, noticing the slight hesitancy in his movements. He can read the other’s body language like a book at this point. “How many times have you done this?”

“Just a few,” Iwaizumi responds, beginning to pack the fragrant bud into the center of the paper. “Mattsun showed me how,” he says, anticipating Oikawa’s next question.

Oikawa nods, a small smile crossing his lips at the image of Mattsun showing Iwaizumi how to roll, probably all proud of himself for knowing more than the other for once. The smile fades as he recalls Mattsun’s words from earlier, “What is wrong with you today?” He probably didn’t mean it like that, but it stung.

“You’ve never before, right?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing up at his friend, breaking his train of thought.

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you if I did?” Oikawa replies, only realizing the irony in his lighthearted response afterward. It’s not lost on Iwaizumi, who only replies with a short nod. His attention is turned back to the slowly forming joint. He holds it up, tongue dashing over the edge of the paper before he continues to roll. Oikawa feels like he should’ve looked away for that part.

“Okay, window,” Iwaizumi finally announces, crossing the room. Oikawa follows behind him, hands still fidgeting. The sight of Iwaizumi holding the joint to his lips, brows knit slightly, eyes cast downward as he sparks up his lighter, it’s captivating. He turns towards the window, exhaling a puff of smoke with a light sigh. Then, he holds it out to Oikawa.

Gingerly, the setter takes it, just staring for a second, then looking back up at Iwaizumi.

The other understands his silent plea for help, leaning forward a bit as he speaks. “Take a breath before, relax, just inhale, hold it, exhale. Not too much, okay?”

Oikawa’s still hesitant, taking a deep breath in. Why was his heart pounding so much? What if he didn’t like the effects? What is he even doing here? And why is Iwaizumi staring at him like that?

“Hey,” Iwa’s hand comes to rest on his wrist, keeping him steady as he relights the joint. He must have been staring at it long enough for it to go out. “You don’t have to, Oikawa. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I want to,” Oikawa says. He holds the joint to his lips, he wants to relax, get his mind off of today, he wants to know how Iwaizumi feels right now, to be in the same space as him.

For some reason.

On his exhale, Oikawa coughs, feeling a sting in the back of his throat, a new pit forming in his chest. Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh, handing him a bottle of water he’d already had by the window. “Not so deep, breath with your chest, slowly.” It reminds him of how Iwaizumi would help him calm down before a game, though much less demanding now.

After drinking some water, he tries again, taking his friend’s advice. It’s better this time, he still coughs, just not as much. Iwaizumi takes it back for a drag and Oikawa feels a pang when he sees how easy it is for him. The two sit like that in silence for some time, passing it back and forth with unspoken rhythm.

“I think that’s enough for you,” Iwaizumi says, leaving the joint to sit on his windowsill, still about half left. He gets up with a little stretch, going back to sit on his bed, lean against the wall. Oikawa, who was just starting to get comfortable with the joint, follows suit. He sits at the foot of the bed, trying to relax. He’s waiting for it, whatever “it” is supposed to feel like, he just knows he’s waiting.

“You wanna tell me why you really came over?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking a strange, heavy silence in the room.

“I couldn’t-”

“I know you couldn’t sleep. Now tell me why,” he demands now, head tilted to the side expectantly.

Oikawa takes a breath, still feeling that sting from coughing so much. “We almost lost today.”

“I know, I was there.”

Oikawa shoots him a little glare before continuing. “It’s my fault.” He waits again, waits for Iwaizumi to tell him he’s wrong, that everyone has bad days, that he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, like he always does. Instead, he’s met with those piercing eyes again, he’s never felt so looked at before. “I don’t know what went wrong. I was feeling weird going into it, I messed up my first serve, it threw me off. And the other team knew it, I can tell what they’re thinking. ‘The great king’s off his game, this is our chance!’ It’s so smug I can’t stand it. It just felt like nothing was working, I was moving too slow, I couldn’t even control it. And everyone knew. They knew something was wrong with me and I was just messing the game up for everyone. Mattsun asked what was wrong with me, I couldn’t even respond.”

Oikawa stops, un-clenches his fists, looks back to Iwaizumi. It’s different now, he can’t put his finger on it. He just feels lighter, the room feels light, everything’s twisting but still at the same time. “How long was I just talking for?” He asks, the weight of his words still present. His mouth is dry.

Iwaizumi can’t help but crack a smile, lifting a hand up to cover his mouth. “Not as long as you think,” is his reply. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa says, shifting to face the other now and wow his bed is soft. Iwaizumi notices his reaction, handing him a pillow to lean on. “Fuzzy.”

Iwaizumi chuckles this time, Oikawa smiles and he doesn’t know why. “I mean, now that you got all that off your chest.”

“Oh,” Oikawa hums. Everything before this exact moment feels like it was so long ago, his vent, laying in his bed. He’s here right now, with Iwa, that’s all he needs to be. “Better, I think.”

“Good, because I never wanna hear some bullshit like that again,” Iwaizumi responds, going back to his usual tone. Oikawa quirks a brow, didn’t he just ask him to talk about how he felt? “You had a shitty game. Sure, it was a really shitty game-”

“That’s hurtful-”

“But it’s over now. We won, you’re not always going to be the reason why. Everyone on our team trusts you for a reason. We’ve seen you play like it’s a death match, one bad game isn’t going to ruin everyone’s faith in you. I’ve seen you at your worst and your best, and I admire both of those.”

Oikawa sits up a bit, propped up on his arm. “Why would you admire my worst?”

“I dunno, that’s when you’re the most driven.”

Of course, Iwaizumi likes watching him push himself. Oikawa wonders if he knows that he’s the reason why. “Why did you say anything to me after the game today?” He asks, once more sitting upright. The question just spills out of him, he didn’t even realize it was bothering him that much. Even Iwaizumi looks startled by it, leaning back as Oikawa draws near.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” he mumbles, looking off at nothing in particular. “When you beat yourself up. I knew you were angrier at yourself than anyone in that gym, nothing I could’ve said would’ve helped.”

Oikawa snorts back a laugh, pressing the back of his hand to his lips. “Iwa, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared about me.”

This earns him a punch on the arm. “Oh shut up, Shittykawa, I just don’t want you moping around on the court.”

Oikawa rubs his arm, laughing. Then, he whispers, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, leaning forward a bit with an expression of concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “I just feel it.”

There’s that infectious laugh again, how long has it been since they goofed like this? How long have they been goofing off for? The boys laugh until they forget what was so funny, then crack up all over again the moment they make eye contact once more.

“Hang on, hang on,” Iwaizumi grabs his phone off his nightstand, flipping through his music. Oikawa looks on, his head pressing against the top of the other’s as he scrolls. Finally, music fills the room, playing from Iwaizumi’s speaker. It’s something Oikawa doesn’t recognize, Western maybe, that acoustic type of rock that Iwa’s always listening to. Normally, he’d complain about the choice, he’s always hated on Iwa’s music just to piss him off. But, it sounds different now.

“Make it louder,” he asks, finally pulling away from his friend. Iwaizumi complies and Oikawa leans back against the wall, taking a breath. The bass is vibrating through the whole room, through him, and Oikawa thinks this might be the prettiest song he’s ever heard, despite the slight grit to it.

“No complaints?” Iwaizumi asks, the question genuine.

“You speaking is ruining it,” Oikawa says, shooting him a playful glare. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes in response. “Is this just what you do? Smoke and listen to music?”

“I mean, for the few times I’ve smoked, yeah this is kind of it,” he replies, scrolling through his phone to queue up more songs. “Why? You bored?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “No, no, I’m just asking.”

With a light shrug, Iwaizumi gets off the bed, heading back to the window. Oikawa gives him a questioning gaze. “I just want a little more, had to make sure your ass was okay first.”

“I’ll have you know my ass isn’t okay, it’s perfect,” Oikawa says with a snarky grin. He joins his friend by the window, the two sitting on the floor, backs to the wall.

“That’s a load of crap,” Iwaizumi snorts, grabbing the joint and his lighter. Once again, Oikawa finds himself staring as his friend holds the joint between his lips, sparking up. The flame, as brief as it flashes, looks so pretty reflecting in his eyes. He takes a puff, leaning his head back as he exhales, closing his eyes. Oikawa smiles.

“You used to give me shit for staying out past curfew,” he says, turning slightly to face the other.

“And?” Iwaizumi replies, quirking a brow.

“And now you do this,” Oikawa says, gesturing to the fading cloud of smoke.

“I don’t ‘do’ anything, I’m just messing around. What, are you judging me?”

Oikawa shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I mean, I joined you. I’m just thinking about how weird it is that I’m here.”

“You break into my house at least once a week, it’s not that weird.”

Oikawa sighs, once more shaking his head. “No, I mean that I’m here with you.” The two look at each other, mutual expressions of surprise. “Not like that- shit, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just, I’ve known you forever and you still surprise me sometimes.”

Iwaizumi has a faint smile on his lips, eyes half-lidded as he raises his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Once again, the truth is just spilling out of him, he can’t even keep track of what he’s saying, he’s losing his own train of thought despite how it continues on. “I didn’t know you admire me.”

Iwaizumi’s smile fades, he looks off again, the same expression he had on earlier. “Of course I do, who wouldn’t?”

“A lot of people,” Oikawa scoffs. “You want me to list them?”

“They don’t see you like I do. If any of them knew you, really knew you, they’d feel the same way.” Iwaizumi has to light it again, the joint dancing between his fingers as he gesticulates.

“Iwa,” is all he can get out, not expecting a response like that. Say something back, say something now- “You know you’re one of the reasons why.”

“Why what?”

“Why I couldn’t fall asleep. You didn’t say anything to me after the game, I thought you were really pissed,” Oikawa shrinks, he didn’t mean to bring the game back up.

“That keeps you up at night?”

Wordlessly, he nods. There’s nothing else to be said about it, Iwaizumi seems to understand the feelings he can’t quite articulate. To stop himself from continuing on, Oikawa asks, “Can I get another hit?”

Iwaizumi just smirks, shaking his head. “I think you may have had enough.”

“Don’t be such a mom, come on,” Oikawa says, a slight whine to his voice.

“Don’t call me that,” Iwa replies, letting out a breath. “Open your mouth, inhale in a second.”

Oikawa’s expression questions him enough. Iwaizumi takes another hit, bigger this time, then leans in close. His senses are flooded, the heat of the other’s face so close, warming up his cheeks, warming up his face, he smells smoke and body wash, today’s leftover cologne. Iwaizumi’s eyes are focused again, looking down to Oikawa’s lips, parted open. He blows smoke inside. “Inhale.”

Oikawa does, sucking in the smoke like it’ll somehow keep Iwaizumi this close to him. He holds it, watching as the other pulls back tentatively. Then, he exhales, letting the cloud lazily drift between them. 

Iwaizumi’s lips curve into a smile, and then they’re pressed against Oikawa’s.

The kiss feels right in every sense of the word. Like two puzzle pieces finally snapping into place. The two can listen to each other without speaking, the same silent communication they have during a game. Oikawa parts his lips, Iwaizumi tilts his head, Oikawa turns his body, Iwaizumi presses a hand on either side of him. They kiss like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other, like they’re putting everything on the line, like they’ve been waiting for this their whole lives. Oikawa releases every little piece of built-up tension in his body, it feels like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding his whole life. Iwaizumi, Iwaziumi who is all sharp edges and quick retorts, feels like a breath of fresh air. They’ve spent enough time together to read every movement, Oikawa knows exactly how he’s checking is this okay and more, just with his lips. He can tell when Iwaizumi is ready to stop, the two boys pulling back in unison.

They share the same face, cheeks flushed, blinking rapidly, unable to break eye contact. Oikawa feels fuzzy and tingly and electric. Iwaizumi hovers over him, chest rising and falling quickly.

The boys laugh, falling into each other because how did this take so long?

When they kiss again, Oikawa makes sure to properly admire everything about his best friend.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi #oneshot #oikawa #toru oikawa #oikawa toru #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi #iwaoi fluff #iwaoi oneshot #oikawa x iwazumi #oikawa & iwazumi #tw drug #tw drugs #first kiss #someone please read this i need validation

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.2 | Brittana

Okay so I’m breaking routine here by posting another chapter so soon but I’m just blown away by the response so far and I got excited. LIKE WOAH, I really thought I wasn’t going to reach many people with this bc like...sports. Guess we all just really love Brittana, huh?

Also, 9-0 baby! 😘

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) 

No one is more surprised by the discovery of the Titans’ new quarterback than Santana. Actually, surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. Santana’s flat out dumbfounded by the news.

Is it the fact that they’ve never had a female Titan, let alone a female QB? Is it the fact that she’s actually really good? Is it the fact that it’s Brittany?

Santana’s at a loss.

The blonde just didn’t strike her as the type to play such a rough sport. She’s like this walking ray of sunshine that irks Santana to no end and she’s only had to deal with her for like a week! No one would’ve ever guessed that Brittany was the one to lead the Titans to their first win but maybe that’s because there’s apparently this side of her that Santana just hadn’t seen yet?

Judging by the way Brittany dominated on the field, Santana had her all wrong.

Santana spends her entire weekend trying to stay on top of her tan before the Autumn chill sets in, but in between sips of cold sweet tea and scrolling through her social media feeds there’s Brittany. Again, she doesn’t know why the quarterback keeps disrupting her thoughts, but it seems like she can’t outrun the girl.

At the moment, Brittany’s everywhere Santana looks! Mainly on social media; one minute Santana’s liking a picture Quinn posted of them before the game on Friday and the next she’s being bombarded by shots of Brittany posing with her teammates. Mike and Sam basically make the same exact post with the whole New Year New QB, but what surprises her is that even Puck is on her feed doing the same thing!

To think that the guys would even allow having a female quarterback is beyond her, because the last time she checked they were all a bunch of sexist pigs. Then again, maybe Coach Beiste has finally taught them all a thing or two about respecting women enough to be okay with playing alongside them?

Santana has no idea.

It’s just crazy how this girl seems to have popped up out of nowhere and now Santana can’t get away even when she’s not at school. The weekends are sacred to her, it’s her time to relax and reset before having to deal with all the McKinley High imbeciles but seeing so much of Brittany has her thoughts running nonstop.

What’s worse is that Santana can’t describe why she’s so annoyed by it all!

\\

It isn’t until Monday rolls around that things finally start to come to a head.

The Titans’ recent win still seems to be the only thing anyone at McKinley wants to talk about, but Santana manages to evade all those conversations. She doesn’t know anything about the game other than the Titans have sucked for most of her high school career but she’s still obligated to cheer for them.

It’s a small price to pay when you’re a real winner. The Cheerios have way more titles and that’s really the only thing Santana cares about.

It’s all apart of her master plan to get the hell out of Lima once she graduates. With several National Championship wins under her belt, along with being Co-Captain since Sophomore year, Santana’s hoping it’ll help to expand her university options.

Although, she knows her future is practically mapped out for her – deep down she still has hope for a miracle. Until then, she just wants to make sure she’s well-prepared for anything which means retaining her position on the squad and making good grades.  

\\

Santana goes through the motions of the school day as usual, and as usual she fights the inescapable feeling of giddiness as she makes her way towards her final class of the day. She doesn’t actually mind the class – Miss Holliday is secretly one of her favorite teachers at McKinley – but she’s not the blonde that’s making her stomach fill with fluttery things.

She’s barely taken two steps into the room when she spots Brittany already sitting at their shared desk. She had been resting her chin in her palm looking bored as ever until Santana walked in. That’s when Brittany perked up and turned on her signature mega-watt smile.

It was getting harder and harder for Santana to scowl at the sight of it.

“Hi!” Brittany greeted happily as Santana took a seat next to her, “How was your weekend?”

It was always the same with Brittany, no matter what kind of look Santana threw her way. Brittany never seemed to be fazed by her grumpiness. She just took it in stride and continued to try and make conversation even if Santana never gave her much to work with.

Maybe that’s why Santana’s drawn to the blonde? She doesn’t scare easily unlike most at the school who wouldn’t dare be so persistent.

“Fine,” Santana answered with a sigh of indifference while she got settled and took out her binder and pen.

“Awesome,” Brittany nodded and picked up her own pen to start doodling, “I had good weekend too. I went to the park, did some chores around the house, hung out with some guys from the team and – “

The team caused a crack in Santana’s façade.

She looked to Brittany, trying to figure out how the girl sitting next to her was the same fierce player she saw Friday night. With the confusion and curiosity that’s been building ever since, the words just came tumbling out of her before she could catch them.

“You’re our new QB,” Santana stated but it sounded more like an accusation than an observation.

Brittany’s brows rose and a coy smile began to spread across her lips, “So you can say more than two words?”

Santana rolled her eyes at the sarcasm but even more so at how that smile made her stomach flip. She really needed to get her shit together.

“But yeah,” Brittany added coolly, “Seems like I am.”

Santana looked down at her binder, “You didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask,” Brittany replied just as quickly.

Before Santana could get wrapped up in that giddy feeling again, she hardened herself. She was starting to see how Brittany could keep up with the guys on the team, the girl was quick and she had confidence.

Santana liked that…or whatever.

“Sup dudes!” Miss Holliday greeted the class as she strolled in just after the bell, “Is this Monday dragging or what?”

Some kids grunted in agreement. Brittany chuckled away and Miss Holliday smirked up at her.

“Awesome game, Chica!” Miss Holliday complimented as she walked down their row closest to Brittany. She held out her fist for Brittany to bump, “You kicked butt out there.”

“Thanks,” Brittany replied sweetly as their fists connected, “It was a team effort.”

“Spoken like a true leader. About time we got a little girl power in this school,” Miss Holliday nodded approvingly before moving down the row.

Santana watched Brittany giggle then get swept up in listening to Miss Holliday’s instructions for the warm-up activity. Again, Santana found herself in awe of how Brittany was the same girl who could break tackles and fire a football downfield. Brittany was friendly and soft and diplomatic, nothing like any of the guys on the team.

“You’re staring,” Brittany pointed out although her gaze remained on Miss Holliday now standing at the front of the class setting up the projector.

Santana doesn’t know why, but Brittany’s comment makes her cheeks burn.

She was glad when one of the kids closest to the door was asked to turn off the lights. In the darkness, she found some comfort and a little confidence. She was able to get a grip and act like a normal person.

“We’ve never had a female QB before,” Santana whispered. She had her pen in hand, trying to follow along with everyone else by doing the activity but her focus was elsewhere.

“So I’ve heard,” Brittany replied just as softly.

Santana didn’t know what to say next; this was the most they’ve spoken to each other thus far and she really didn’t know where the conversation was going.

What she didn’t anticipate though was fucking it all up with one sentence.

“Girls,” Santana breathed out and for some reason the word made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn’t realize she hadn’t said it in awhile, maybe not since seeing…  

Santana swallows hard at the memory trying to worm its way in. She pushes it to the back of her mind; now isn’t the time for it.  

“Girls,” She repeats herself with a steadier voice, “They aren’t supposed to play football.”

When Brittany looks at her, the friendly smile is gone and her pretty blue eyes are darker and fill with disbelief.

Santana knows she said the wrong thing the second the words leave her lips. It’s not exactly what she meant, but it’s too late to take it back now. Her words have already done the damage.  

“Huh,” Brittany scoffs and averts her eyes back to her work, “Didn’t expect to hear that coming from you.”

Santana frowns – mostly out of guilt – but her instincts have her on the defense, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

She watches Brittany’s jaw tighten before she’s turning to look at Santana again. Her brows knit together, “It means I didn’t think you were the small-minded type.”

Santana feels winded.

She’s been called many things in her life and has heard some creative insults aimed at her, but never has she ever been called small-minded. She’s surprised by how much that one actually hurts. After everything she went through last year, after all the backlash, after having to deal with real small-minded people she feels a little offended. She can’t be lumped in with them. It’s not possible, because she’s…

The word gets trapped her throat and Santana has to swallow hard again to steady herself.

She isn’t like everyone else.

On second thought, maybe she is if she’s still saying something like that?

“I’ve always been told that those who can play the game well should,” Brittany tells her firmly, “I think I’m someone that can and judging by your team’s standings for the past three years, you could use someone like me on that field.”

Santana gulps. She can’t remember the last time someone at this school spoke to her the way Brittany is. It’s not a tone she’s familiar with, but she knows she deserves it.

“I don’t know you very well, but I thought – I don’t know – I thought you’d at least be a little more accepting than the hicks I’ve come across in this town,” Brittany continues, “I guess I was wrong.”

Santana’s lips part to defend herself, but nothing comes out.

Brittany doesn’t notice, “It shouldn’t matter if I’m a girl or a boy or a damn alien from outer space. If you can play – if you want to play – then you should, no matter what the sport is. Anyone that thinks otherwise is just…well, they’re stupid.”

The last word has Brittany’s voice cracking and the sound finally has Santana sputtering for an explanations, “I – I didn’t mean to – “

“You should probably just pay attention to the board, Santana.”

Santana bites her lip at Brittany’s clipped tone – that might’ve been the first time she’s ever heard Brittany say her name. She does as she’s told though. It’s best if she doesn’t dig herself a deeper hole.

\\

Santana spends the rest of the day mulling over Brittany's words. Even through Cheerios practice after school, Santana can’t seem to get her head on right.

Maybe she really has become a product of her environment? Maybe all the small-minded people she's surrounded by have somehow managed to rub off on her after all of these years?

That can’t be the case, can it?

She hates that she has to ask herself that. Usually, Santana’s not one to have any regrets or remorse once she spits out her vicious words but this time she finds herself backpedaling when it comes to Brittany. She wasn’t trying to be a bitch, it just sort of happened and for once in her life she feels kind of horrible about it.

\\

“You okay?” Quinn asks hesitantly after she dismissed the squad for a water break. Santana was meant to lead warm-ups today but Quinn seemed more eager to take over and Santana didn’t mind considering she’s so distracted.

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “I’m fine.”

“You’re quiet today,” Quinn notes, “You didn’t even laugh when Bec accidentally called Coach Sylvester sir.”

Santana tries to mask her worries and shrugs again, “She’s not that far off, have you seen Coach lately? Very mannish.”

Quinn smirks, pleased to seemingly have her best friend back, “So true.”

Just then Coach Sylvester blows her whistle and barks orders at the squad. Santana’s reluctant to move, but she pushes herself up anyway.

“God,” She groans as they walk over to the others, “I’m over this year and it hasn’t even started.”

“Same,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go make fun of the JV squad later? I hear they need a ton of work and their practices runs longer than ours because they suck so much.”

If it were any other day, that suggestion would have Santana eager to get a front row seat but even that doesn’t help. Still, she has to retain some sort of normalcy even if thoughts of Brittany are trying their hardest to disrupt that.

“I can’t wait to see that train wreck,” Santana quips and together, she and her best friend fall in line with the rest of the squad.

\\

The remainder of the week is more of the same: class, Cheerios practice, homework then repeat. The only thing that’s out of the ordinary for Santana is the icy, cold shoulder Brittany’s giving her now.

Or maybe Santana’s the one avoiding her?

It’s all minor details. What’s important is that they aren’t speaking to each other anymore and Santana’s starting to miss Brittany’s usual cheerful greetings.

She knows what she needs to do to fix this. It doesn’t make it any easier for her to actually do it though. To admit that she was wrong, to apologize for her words, to accept responsibility for her actions? Santana’s not use to most of that!

It’s a weird kind of tension though between her and Brittany, so Santana’s not sure how much more she can take. Instead, she steals sideways glances in the dark and hopes Brittany takes pity on her and makes the first move.

Brittany doesn’t and soon one week’s worth of silence ends up turning into two.

\\

Santana had every intention of making amends by last Friday’s game, but things just kept coming up. There’s class and Cheerios practice, but now she actually has to study for upcoming quizzes and assignments. She can’t fall behind again so once practice ends, Santana usually gets changed right away and heads straight for her car without even glancing in the Titans’ direction.

Is she using schoolwork as a lame excuse to avoid dealing with her shit? Of course, she’s a teenager. Procrastination comes naturally to her!

\\

Later that night, Santana sits with both of her parents at the table for dinner. It’s a rare occasion to have Maribel and Hector home at the same time, but that quickly loses its novelty when Hector starts to grill Santana on her studies.

“Papi, it’s only the third week,” Santana gently reasons.

“And?” Hector gives her a stern look, “You need to stay on top of things, Santana.”

It’s a simple sentence, but Santana feels like there’s way more beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s hard being the daughter of a successful doctor whose father was also a doctor and his father before him. There is a long line of them in the Lopez legacy and that looms over Santana like a dark cloud, especially now that she’s in her Senior year.

It’s gone without saying whose footsteps Santana will follow, but it’s still a lot of pressure for her. It’s only a matter of time before her dad begins to lecture her again about college and the importance of good grades and extracurriculars while her mom tries to elevate some of that stress.

She’s never met two people who show their love for someone so differently.

“Don’t put too much pressure on her,” Maribel says and squeezes Santana’s hand from across the table lovingly, “You’re doing fine, mija.”

Hector frowns at his wife, “Fine isn’t enough. You think any of these Ivy League schools care about fine? Of course not. They’re going through thousands of applicants a year and fine doesn’t stand out. Fine doesn’t get into Harvard.”

Maribel narrows her eyes at his rambling.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hector huffs but his voice softens as he looks to Santana, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Santana can already guess what he’s about to say. She’s heard it so many times before.

“You can’t get complacent, Santana. You have a lot to make up for,” Hector adds just as Santana knew he would, “Especially after the year you’ve had.”

“That’s an understatement,” Santana mumbles as she pushes food around on her plate.

“What was that?” Hector raises a challenging brow.

“It’s nothing,” Santana dismisses and smiles reassuringly at her dad, “I’m on top of everything this year, Papi. I promise, you don’t have to worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

When Hector matches her smile, Santana feels a little relief even if it only lasts for a moment.

\\

It isn’t until they’re nearing the end of the third week of school when things on the Brittany-front begin to shift for Santana. They still aren’t speaking to each other, but the blonde practically pops up everywhere she goes – if not physically, then someone’s bound to be talking about her.

After securing a second win for the Titans, Brittany has quickly climbed the ranks on the popularity ladder. The buzz around her grows, but what’s odd is that despite her obvious talents and annoyingly charming smile the students of McKinley have mixed feelings about her.

More importantly, about having a female quarterback.

On her walks to class, Santana has overheard the murmurs of doubt in Brittany’s abilities. Some are frustrated at how a new kid was able to dethrone Finn Hudson who has been leading the team all of her high school career. Some think Coach Beiste is getting soft. Some think it’s all a hoax, but Santana doesn’t really understand that one.

Regardless of how they feel about her though, Brittany’s still able to part crowds any time she walks down the hall. It doesn’t look like she pays them any mind, but Santana’s been wrong about her before.

But with popularity comes the irritating gossip mongers and Santana happens to overhear Brittany’s first encounter with McKinley’s most annoying: Jacob Ben Israel.

\\\\\

Between her morning runs, class, football practice, weight training, homework and helping out with Pete, Brittany’s having a hard time finding a moment to relax. She should be use to the hectic schedule by now, but making the change from her old school’s system to Lima’s is throwing her off a little. The school days start earlier, football practices run later and the work is a little harder than she use to.

Then there’s everything going on with Santana and that might be the most frustrating.

For nearly two weeks, they’ve kept this thing between them going. Did Brittany overreact by saying what she said? She doesn’t think so. Maybe Santana didn’t think what she said to her was a big deal, but to Brittany it was. The things people say to her in Lima aren’t anything knew, but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to their sting.

Most times, she’s able to ignore them but it just hits differently when she hears the utter disbelief coming from a fellow female. It’s like, whatever happened to empowering and uplifting each other? Did Santana not grow up listening to the Spice Girls? Has she never watched She’s the Man? Bend it like Beckham? A League of their own?

It’s so irritating because she can’t even ask Santana, the girl avoids her like the plague! The only time they’re ever close enough is in English class and that’s only because they have to share a table.

\\

Brittany’s tired and achy and she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts as shuffles through her locker for her textbook for next class that she doesn’t notice she is no longer alone.

“Brittany Pierce!” Brittany hears someone say and the sound makes her flinch, “You’ve become quite the celebrity.”

She leans back slowly and peeks around her locker door to find a rather dorky looking guy with a huge cloud of hair. She notices the mic in his hand next and is instantly confused.

Is she on tv?

“Who are you?” She asks and glances around unsurely for a camera.

“Jacob Ben Israel,” He says and holds out his hand for her to shake, “Some call me JBI for short. I’m McKinley’s #1 source for news and the hottest gossip.”

Brittany shakes his hand; it’s grossly warm and sweaty as hell but she’s not surprised judging by the look of him. He certainty isn’t dressed like a journalist or one of those news reporters she has seen on tv.

She can hear her dad’s voice in her head chastising her for judging a book by its cover so she gives JBI a polite smile, “Oh okay. Nice to meet you.”

She goes to turn back to her locker, but JBI is quick to start the questions.

“So you’re the first female QB here at McKinley High. You’re new to the school and you’re the first to ever bench Finn Hudson and you’ve already led the Titans to their second victory this year. Hoping for a third this Friday?” JBI pauses and holds out the mic for Brittany.

She clears her throat, she’s not sure where the camera is so she just looks at him, “Of course. There are a lot of really great players on the team and I’m confident we can win a lot more games this season.”  

“Awesome,” JBI replies enthusiastically, “A winning streak isn’t something a lot of the students here have experienced. You’re off to a great start this year. You’re bound to be nominated for Homecoming Court!”

Brittany almost laughs at that.

She’s been nominated at her old school before – even won a couple times – but that’s because she was voted for by her peers, peers who have known her for years. She doesn’t expect any nomination this year, the only reason anyone knows her is because she plays football. If she were to be nominated, it wouldn’t be because she’s well-liked or something like that. It would be because she sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Sounds cool,” Brittany replies despite disagreeing with him.

“So tell us,” JBI’s voice takes a dip. It’s sneaky, almost mischievous, “Would you rather be crowned the King or the Queen?”

Brittany’s stomach flips. She doesn’t like this interview thing anymore.

“What?” She asks because the question confuses her but she finds him wearing this sly grin like he’s just found her weak spot.

He hasn’t, but Brittany’s guard instantly goes up.

“Don’t be shy,” He coaxes with the wag of his brow, “You know what I’m talking about. You’re a female QB, no way you’re strai – “

“Hey!” Suddenly Santana’s there, of all people, and there’s fury in her eyes as she shoves JBI’s mic to his chest, “Fuck off.”

Brittany blinks like she’s caught in a daydream. Her eyes shift from Santana to JBI whose grin widens upon seeing the Co-Captain.

“Now this is a pairing I’m sure everyone would love to see,” He says as he talks into the mic again like nothing’s happened, like Santana isn’t about to beat him over the head with it. He looks to the camera – the kid’s been lingering over Brittany’s right shoulder thus far – and says, “It’s the infamous Santana Lopez, gracing us with her presence.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “I’m not gracing you with shit. Your little show sucks.”

“That’s not what my viewer count says. I’m sure you remember,” JBI quips as he turns back to the pair, “So Brittany, you didn’t answer the question.”

Brittany feels like a deer caught in the headlights; she can’t even remember what the question was, but thankfully Santana interrupts again.

“I said beat it, loser, before I shove that camera so far up your dumb ass you’ll be spitting out polaroids,” Santana snaps.

To Brittany’s surprise though, JBI doesn’t move right away.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re not even using that kind of cam – “

Santana grits her jaw and takes a threatening step forward. Her voice dips low and gravely, “Try me, Jewfro. Please. I’ve been itching to kick you square in the nuts.”

That threat has JBI reaching to protect his crotch before he turns and runs down the hall with his camera-friend following him.  

Brittany watches Santana smirk like she’s so proud of herself for being able to instill the fear of God in someone before she’s averting her gaze. When her stormy brown eyes land on Brittany, the blonde feels a cold chill.

The smirk’s gone and in it’s place is a familiar scowl. Brick by brick, her wall goes up.

“I know you’re new here, Pierce, so a little word of advice,” Santana warns as she turns to the lockers, “Don’t talk to him. He’s a wannabe journalist that reports nothing but bullshit. He’ll twist your words if you let him, trust me. I’ve seen it happen many times and I don’t want you to get caught up in his shit.”

Brittany’s at a loss for words.

Santana hasn’t spoken to her all this time and now all of sudden this? Why would it matter to Santana what she did or said or who she spoke to? Why would she care, she doesn’t even know Brittany?

There’s so many questions beginning to swarm her, but none make it out of her head.

“Thanks,” Is the only word Brittany ends up saying around a shy grin.

There’s a hint of smile on Santana’s lips when their eyes catch for a quick second, but it disappears just as fast.

“It’s whatever,” She says and Brittany hears a locker door slam, “I’ll see you in class.”

It isn’t until Santana’s halfway down the hall that Brittany finally realizes that their lockers are right next to each other’s. She can do nothing but laugh at the small coincidence.

\\

The second time Santana speaks to her, it’s because Brittany accidentally scared the crap out of her.

It’s Thursday now – the last day of practice before the Week 3 game – so Brittany wants to get a jump on warm-ups. She knows there’s a thirty minute buffer between Cheerios and Titans practice, but she has to account for the extra time it takes to pick up her gear from Coach Beiste’s office first since everything’s stored in the boys’ locker room.

Usually, she gets the whole room to herself and plays a little music from her phone to get amped up. This time though, there’s one Cheerio that’s already there and this particular Cheerio surprisingly has a beautiful singing voice.

Brittany feels like she’s being lured in by one of those sirens she has read about in Greek mythology. She thinks she should probably make her presence known because creeping around a locker room is kind of weird, but she’s so in awe of the girl’s voice.

More importantly, the owner of that voice.

“Jesus!” Santana gasps when she rounds the corner to find Brittany lingering by the hampers. Her hand flies to chest to steady her beating heart, “What the hell are you doing, Pierce? Trying to give a girl a heart attack?”

Brittany thanks the heavens when she finds that Santana’s fully clothed already.

“I’m sorry!” Brittany blushes, “I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Santana just shakes her head before eyeing Brittany again. There’s a flash of concern when Santana says, “You look like shit, worse than yesterday when I saw you with JBI.”

Brittany’s not sure how to take that. She hasn’t been sleeping well, that’s for sure, but it worries her that her tiredness is beginning to show. At least, that’s what she hopes Santana is talking about.

“I’ve been super busy lately. Guess I’m just ready for the weekend,” She says instead as she fumbles with the shoulder pads in her hands, “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“Interrupting me?”

“Yeah, you were singing. It sounded really pretty.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Santana brushes off before crossing her arms over her chest, “Why are you in here so early? Doesn’t your practice start at 4?”

“Why are you in here so late?” Brittany challenges, “Didn’t your practice start at 3:30?”

Santana cocks her head to the side, “I had to talk to Ms. Pillsbury about something.”

“Who?”

“She’s the guidance counselor. You’ll probably meet her soon, she’s on all the Seniors about their college application due dates. Figures, she’d want to start off with me.”

Brittany wants to know more. Afterall, she’s naturally curious when it comes to getting to know new people so the questions build but she doesn’t voice any of them. Not that Santana would give her any answers anyway.

Santana’s looking at all the gear Brittany’s toting along with her duffle bag and her brows furrow, “Did you carry all of that here?”

Brittany looks down at her gear and nods.

“Why?” Santana scrunches her nose, “Don’t you have a locker or something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I was never given one. Coach Beiste said Coach Sylvester is meant to assign one to me, but I guess she’s been busy.”

“Doubt it. She hates Coach Beiste so in turn, she hates you.”

Brittany frowns; what’d she do?

“She’s probably just giving you a hard time because you’re a Titan instead of a Cheerio,” Santana answers then walks off. She goes to grab the clipboard that hangs above the hampers, dangling from it is a key, “I can assign you one, it’s part of my Co-Captain privileges. This side is reserved for the squad, obviously, but the set by the showers are all free. You can leave your football stuff there too, doubt anyone in here is going to want to steal it.”

Brittany’s taken aback by Santana’s random act of kindness for a second time that week. She let’s her smile shine, “Thanks. It really helps having everyting in one place. I don’t have to waste so much time walking back and forth.”

Santana nods and there’s that hint of a smile again before she’s leading the way over to the section of lockers that’s now become Brittany’s.

“Top or bottom?” Santana asks as she scans the list attached to the clipboard. Brittany smirks and notices the moment Santana realizes what she has said, “As in locker preference.”

“Duh,” Brittany jokes with a straight face, “What else would you mean?”

Santana’s face is flushed now and Brittany tries her hardest not to laugh. She’s kind of cute when she’s flustered like that.

“I’ll put you down for top,” Santana answers stiffly. Now her eyes are solely glued to the clipboard in her hands, “I guess I can unlock the bottom one too though so you can have the entire segment. You can – uh – decide which you want to use or whatever.”

“That works for me,” Brittany replies casually before she starts to undress.

Santana practically runs into a wall when she sees Brittany pull her top up over her head and let it drop onto her open duffle bag.

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” Santana calls over her shoulder as she scurries off.

Brittany watches the whole thing curiously. Has Santana never changed in front of other girls before or something? That’s the only explanation she comes to for how awkward she’s being.

Brittany doesn’t dwell on it, just continues getting dressed.

\\

By the time Brittany’s got her practice gear on, Santana appears again. She looks a little shier than before and she’s fiddling with her hands.

Brittany just smiles and reaches down for her helmet, “You going now?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers, “Just trying to enjoy the last bit of A.C.”

“It’s not that hot out,” Brittany chuckles and motions to her pads, “At least you don’t have to wear all this.”

“True,” Santana smirks, “Now that would suck.”

Brittany chuckles again. She likes this version of Santana, she hopes she can see her more often but there’s still a giant pink elephant in the room so Brittany doesn’t get too excited.

“I’ll see you out there I guess,” Brittany says.

Santana nods and turns to leave, but then stops and turns back to face Brittany again.

“Actually, I just wanted to say,” Santana starts.

Brittany wonders if this is it. If she’s finally going to get an apology after what Santana said to her the other week, or at least the start of a conversation about her opinion? Anything would suffice by this point.

Brittany waits.

“I just wanted to say,” Santana repeats and her voice is so shaky. It’s completely unlike the confidence she possessed when she told off JBI, “Have a good practice.”

It’s not what Brittany was anticipating her to say – and judging by the uncertainty on Santana’s face, it wasn’t what she was anticipating to say either – but she’ll take it.

“Thanks,” Brittany grins as she walks by her to leave, “You too.”

\\

By Friday night, Brittany’s feeling better than she has all week. Although they’ve yet to acknowledge Santana’s misjudgments, baby steps in the right direction have been taken.

Kind of.

First Santana defended her against JBI then on Thursday she assigned Brittany a locker and today? Today Santana brought her a drink from the Cheerios special lounge while Brittany was getting ready for the game.

“What is it?” Brittany asked hesitantly as she eyed the color of it. She’s sitting on the benches in the locker room completely dressed now in her uniform. All that’s left are the final touches like a quick dance party to get her pumped and applying a little Game Day eye make up.

“It’s a bunch of healthy stuff like fruits and veggies. All fresh so that explains the color, no preservatives. There’s some vitamin supplements in there too,” Santana explains like it’s all a bother.

Brittany’s beginning to see through that though.

“I don’t take drugs,” Brittany replies and tries to give the bottle back.

Santana rolls her eyes and there’s that hint of a smile again, “Does Vitamin D count as a drug? If so, then Puckerman is definitely on something stronger.”

Brittany frowns at the accusation, “Wait, seriously? The team can get in a lot of troub – “

“Easy, Pierce, I’m sure he’s just all-talk,” Santana amends, “I wouldn’t open an investigation on him or anything.” Then there’s a pause and for a second she looks a little shy as she motions to the bottle in Brittany’s hands. Her voice comes out softer, “Drink that. It’ll help with the tiredness and it’s good for your immune system too incase you’re about to come down with something.”

“You think I’m getting sick?” Brittany chuckles and turns back to apply thick black stripes to the apples of her cheeks.

Santana lifts a shoulder casually before standing, “You almost fell asleep in class today.”

Brittany blushes. Did she really? She’s so tired, she can’t even remember.

“What does that have to do with getting sick?” Brittany wonders.

“It’s almost that time of the year and bugs move quick,” Santana explains, “A lot quicker if you’re not taking care of yourself…for example, not getting enough sleep.”

That takes Brittany by surprise. Santana caring about her? Why? But despite the surprise, Brittany feels warm and fuzzy all over.

“Alright Doc, I’ll drink it,” Brittany jokes as she finishes up drawing on the left stripe. She turns to Santana as she twists off the lid and makes a show of taking a long drink.

Santana actually laughs this time before she shakes her head.

“I feel better already,” Brittany beams as she stands. They’re close now and it’s then that Brittany really notices the height difference, “Thanks for this. What do I owe you? Pressed juices like these probably cost an arm and a leg here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Santana dismisses and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “Just bring home another win.”

“You got it,” Brittany winks and goes to take another swig while she watches Santana leave the locker room.

\\

Unfortunately, it’s a rocky start this time for the Titans. It’s not that Brittany isn’t playing at her best because she always brings 110% to the field no matter how she’s feeling. It’s actually her teammates who aren’t as focused as she is for some reason. There’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to being a cohesive unit, but today they’ve really taken a step back.

They’re down by 17 points when the half is called.

\\

“Alright, what’s going on out there?” Coach Beiste questions. She’s fuming as she eyes everyone for an answer, “What I’m seeing is that Pierce is the only one here that’s come to play.”

Karofsky scoffs and folds up his arms, “I’m so over hearing about her!”

“Me too!” Azimio chimes in, “First we let in Hummel and now her? What’s next? She gonna join the Puck Heads in the off season and change the game for them too? The rest of us are chopped liver now. It’s not good for my reputation!”

“Your reputation? You were a loser just like the rest of us before Brittany came,” Mike replies but the two don’t take kindly to being called a loser and start shoving at him.

“Cut it out!” Sam tries to breaking it up.

Brittany looks over at them and grimaces. Dave and Azimio both have been a pain in her ass since she’s joined the team, but she thought they were past this by now? They’ve got a winning record, they’re actually improving on being a better team, so what’s the issue all of a sudden?

Coach Beiste shakes her head at them, “Give me a break! One person doesn’t win games. You don’t have to like Pierce but you’re going to give her your respect if you want to play on my field. It’s as simple as that. You work together, you listen and respect each other. That’s what it means to be a team, is it not?”

Brittany eyes her teammates. Aside from the select handful that actually like her, the guys look at her like she’s the enemy. It makes Brittany feel really unsettled.

“Is it not?” Coach Beiste presses.

There are mumbles amongst the squad but it’s not enough for Coach Beiste.

“Louder!”

“Yes, Coach!” They say in unison.

“Okay then, let’s starting acting like a team out there and win this game!” She says with the clap of her hands.

\\

They’re in the fourth quarter now and the Titans have managed to make it a close game despite their rough start. Coach Beiste’s pep talk must’ve worked because the team is playing harder than the first half, but Brittany still senses the undertones of resentment.

She packs it away for now and just focuses on making plays. Afterall, she’s meant to be winning this one for Santana. Well not for Santana; it’s more like paying her back for the drink earlier.

Brittany nods resolutely and looks to the sidelines to see the Co-Captain shaking her pompoms. She does a high kick and yells out a cheer in time with the others, but the smile she’s wearing is what catches Brittany’s eye.

She shakes her head and focuses on the snap.

“Down!” Brittany calls out. She catches the other team’s Line Backer’s movement from the corner of her eye. The defense looks hungry, but so are they. She smirks and braces herself, “Hut!”

The ball is snapped and Brittany quickly hands it off to Puckerman. So far their run game has been pretty weak tonight, but Puckerman surprises everyone and kicks into gear. He plows through the defense at full speed, breaking tackle after tackle, until he crosses over for a first down and steps out of bounds.

He spikes down the ball and makes a sawing motion with his arm while the crowd goes wild. Matt runs up to congratulate him with a hard pat on the back.

“Yes!” Brittany jumps up and down as she cheers.

Over on the sidelines, the Cheerios are just as excited as they chant:

“First and ten, first and ten! First and ten, let’s do it again!”

Brittany sees Santana watching her with a huge grin and it makes her feel warm all over again. She knows it’s silly to think that Santana’s cheers are just for her – same goes for that smile – but she can’t help but dream.  

Yeah, she’s decided. She’s really going to win this game just for her.

Brittany quickly runs up to their new line of scrimmage and everyone starts to take their position. She smacks Puckerman on the back when he jogs up next to her to get in formation.

“Nice carry, Puckerman!” She compliments.

“Sawed right through them!” Puckerman shouted excitedly back.

“Let’s keep up that energy,” Brittany praised and called out another play. They were in field goal range now, but like always – Brittany wasn’t here to play it safe especially with the new set of downs.

This time she wanted to try another play-action route since it worked pretty well in the pre-season game. Mike and Sam have proved to her that they have great hands, but they needed to work on their speed and timing. Now was a perfect time to test that. With Puckerman on a roll, the defense was sure to up their coverage on him rather than the receivers which would work perfectly in Brittany’s favor.

“Blue 82!” Brittany repeats and looks to her sides for confirmation that they’ve picked up the slight change.

Mike and Sam give her the barest nod before they’re glaring at their defenders. Brittany kicks up her foot and Mike quickly changes position so that he’s next to Sam now on the right side of the field.

“Blue 82!” Brittany calls out again and readies herself for the snap, “Down…Hut!”

The ball is hiked and she fakes the hand off to Puckerman so smoothly that the defense follows after him just as planned. While they chase him down to the left side of the field, Mike and Same cut up the right. Brittany holds onto the ball longer than she likes, making sure she gives her receivers enough time to breakaway from their defenders.

The other team’s Line Backer is trying his hardest to break through her O-Line though. Thankfully, Matt ends up making a key block for Mike and Brittany’s able to step up in the pocket and fire down a quick pass. It’s a little lower than Brittany wanted, but Mike makes the catch and pushes past a defender for another first down!  

Everyone went wild, but the play clock was still going since Mike hadn’t made it out of bounds.

Brittany motioned for everyone to hurry into position – this time she was going for a slant route with Matt being the intended receiver. She kept her eye on the seconds ticking away, but the team was able to make it in time to get set.

“OG 30!” She called out. She was really starting to feel that adrenaline kick in but she kept her cool and held out her hands, “Down…Hut!”

Again, Brittany caught the ball and dropped back as everyone began to move. Despite the grumpiness during half time, the guys that made up her O-Line – mostly Dave and Azimio – did their jobs correctly and held the line. Brittany looked to her right and faked a throw before turning to her left and firing at Matt.

He juggled the ball in the air, but ultimately was able to secure possession of it and ran up the side of the field for an easy touchdown!

“Let’s go!” Brittany pumped her fist in the air. That was their best drive all game and now with the new points on the board, they’re finally up by 6! With just a little over ten minutes left in the final quarter, Brittany’s feeling good about their odds in coming away with another win.

\\

She was right to feel confident; Titans end up winning the game 27 – 21. When the final whistle was blown, everyone was cheering and some of her teammates rushed to congratulate her efforts. She happily returned the sentiments, but she couldn’t help but glance over at the sidelines to see if Santana was watching her again too.

And she was, alongside Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios.

Brittany just grinned as she pulled off her helmet and let down her hair, happy that she was able to make good on her promise to Santana.

\\

Despite how great she felt after Friday’s win, Monday morning was a different story.

Everything hurts and she was so exhausted that she didn’t even go for her usual morning run which is telling because she’s one of those rare people that actually works well with routine exercising. She guesses all those late nights studying combined with her patchy sleep schedule have finally taken its toll on her body.

She thinks back to what Santana said Friday about getting enough rest. God, she hopes she isn’t coming down with anything. Getting sick is just not what she needs right now.

“Hey mom?” Brittany taps on Whitney’s bedroom door. The curtains are already drawn and welcome in the morning sun so she knows her mom’s awake already. Whitney appears in the doorway of the master bath in her work uniform and instantly looks worried.

“You feeling okay, kiddo?” She asks as she crosses the room to press at Brittany’s forehead.

“I don’t think I’m sick, but I feel horrible,” Brittany explains.

“Yeah, you don’t have a fever. Have you been getting enough sleep?” Whitney asks.

Brittany shakes her head. Whitney eyes her with concern.

“It’s not the dreams again, is it?”

Brittany shakes her head again, “No. I haven’t had one since the last time I told you. I think I’m just worn out.”

“You’re a busy girl,” Whitney nods.

“Is it okay if I stay home today?” Brittany asks hesitantly, “It’s the only day of the week that I don’t really need to be at practice. I think I can access most of my schoolwork online so – “

“It’s okay, Britt. Just rest today,” Whitney says, “Missing a day isn’t going to break you and I know you’ll catch up when you’re feeling better.”

Brittany fills with relief and gives her mom a weak smile. She’s so happy that Whitney’s so understanding, but she guesses that’s come from experience with everything that happened at the beginning of the year with her dad’s passing. Many mental health days were taken, but Whitney never made her feel bad for it. If anything, she always encouraged them.

“Thanks mom,” Brittany says before taking herself back to bed. She’s able to fall asleep fast for once and she doesn’t wake again until she has to use the bathroom.

\\

When she wakes up the third time, it’s just after three. She sees a text from her mom saying that Gran has Pete and she’ll pick him up once she gets off of work so that Brittany can continue resting.

She smiles and sends a text back to thank her before getting up. After a quick snack and a big glass of OJ, Brittany heads to the couch for another nap.

This time, sleep doesn’t find her as easily as it did the other times so she turns on the tv and tries to find something to watch. She decides to put on something she considers boring in hopes that maybe it’ll bore her right to sleep.

Miraculously, her plan works and she settles in for another nap.

An hour or so goes by when Brittany begins to stir because Pete’s trying to squeeze onto the couch next to her. His cold feel touch her bare ankles beneath her blanket and she flinches at the feel.

“Honey, what did I say in the car?” Whitney whispers, “Let your sister rest.”

“I am,” Pete pouts, “I just wanted to sit with her.”

“How about you come help me with – “

“It’s okay, mom,” Brittany pushes to sit up. Pete instantly beams at her, “I’ve slept enough I think.”

“Feeling better?” Whitney asks and brushes her hand over Brittany’s wild hair.

She nods and does a little stretch, “Much better.”

“Good to hear,” Whitney says and bends down to press kisses to Brittany and Pete’s head, “I’m going to make dinner then. Just leftovers so it shouldn’t take long.”

When she heads off for the kitchen, Pete snuggles in closer to Brittany.

“Did you get to watch cartoons all day?” He asks curiously.

Brittany shakes her head, “Nope, but I did take many naps.”

“Nice!”

“Totally.”

\\

Brittany and Pete are watching tv together a moment later when Brittany hears a knock at the front door. Pete jumps up at the sound and rushes to see who it is.

“Don’t open that door, Peter!” Whitney calls out from the kitchen, “Let your sister get it.”

Pete pouts and hangs back as Brittany moves to get up. She chuckles and ruffles up his hair as she passes by. When Brittany takes a peek, she’s shocked by what she sees and quickly opens the door.

“Santana?” Brittany greets. She’s both confused and pleasantly surprised.

“Who are you?” Pete asks curiously with his head tilted up at the Co-Captain.

“Hi,” Santana smiles kind of nervously as she glances between the two. She’s dressed in her Cheerios warm-up gear – she must’ve just finished practice – and has her binder tucked under her arm.

“Uh…I’m Santana,” She answers softly, “And you are?”

“I’m Peter!” Brittany’s brother holds out his hand to shake, “Everyone calls me Pete though, so you can too if you want.”

Santana quirks a brow at him but smiles as she shakes his hand anyway, “Nice to meet you, Pete.”

“Pete, can you go help mom?” Brittany instructs. She waits until he’s run off then asks Santana out of disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t in class today,” She says.

“Yeah…I didn’t feel well.”

“Didn’t I say you were going to get sick?” Santana smirks.

“I’m not sick,” Brittany sighs, “I was just tired.”

“Right,” Santana keeps the smirk and motions to her binder, “Well, I brought you the work you missed. It’s kind of important for the paper due in a few weeks.”

Brittany just blinks. Maybe she’s still asleep and this is all a dream?

“Here,” Santana offers and goes to flip through her binder for a couple handouts to give to Brittany.

The blonde accepts them although she’s still trying to grasp the fact that Santana’s standing on her doorstep, “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Santana nods and it looks like she’s about to turn away.

“Wait. How’d you know where I lived?” Brittany quickly asks before she can run off.

“Mike told me,” Santana shrugs, “Actually, Mike told Quinn and Quinn told me. Apparently you two are neighbors?”

“Yeah, he likes to tell everyone that,” Brittany chuckles before she gets a sudden burst of confidence and asks, “Did you…want to come in?”

“Uhhh,” Santana looks unsure but then she gives Brittany a small smile, “Okay.”

Brittany opens the door a little wider and leads Santana into the living room. She pushes the blanket she brought down from her room to the side so they can both sit on the couch. Brittany starts to flip through the packet Santana gave her and she’s already dreading the assignment.

“Woah,” Brittany gasps, “This is a lot.”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “I can help you with it though if you want? Miss Holliday said we can work in groups if we wanted, but we’ll be graded individually.”

Brittany blinks blankly again, “Huh, that’s funny.”

“What?”

Brittany just shakes her head and shrugs, “Just the other week you were insulting me then you stopped talking to me for awhile and now you’re being super helpful. I just can’t get a read on you.”

Brittany wasn’t trying to make Santana feel cornered, she just wanted to open up the conversation. She was over ignoring the obvious, so she went straight for the kill and brought it up head on.

Santana’s shoulders dropped, “Look, I’m…I’m really sorry about that. I was so out of line.”

“Yeah, you really were,” Brittany replies but she isn’t trying to rile Santana up by being argumentative, “You know how many times I’ve heard something similar over the years? Ever since I started playing sports it’s always been: you run like a girl, you throw like a girl, you’re pretty good…for a girl.”

Santana looks apologetically at Brittany and goes to fiddle with her hands in her lap. Brittany notes the familiar motion and decides its something she does when she’s nervous.

Brittany adds, “Like being a girl that plays sports is somehow less than, like it’s a bad thing. I’ve never understood it. I’m just as good as they are.”

Santana shakes her head, “No. I’ve seen you play. You’re so much better.”

“Thanks,” Brittany chuckles weakly, “You know, when I first started I wasn't trying to make some big statement. I didn't want the pressure of being the first female whatever, I just wanted to play. And my family, they've always been super supportive no matter the sport, especially my dad.”

Brittany feels the lump in her throat slowly start to form at his mention and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“He use to come to every game. But people are so stuck on how I've disrupted their precious norms and it makes things harder than they need to be. No matter where I go, the people will either love me or hate me for this. It's crazy. I'm just a girl who loves playing football, why's that so odd?”

“It’s not,” Santana reasons, “You’re a good different, a kind of different a place like this needs.”

Brittany smiles fondly at Santana’s kind words, “Then why did you say what you did?”

Santana pauses for awhile trying to find the right words but in the end she just shakes her head and sighs, “Probably because I’m a bitch?”

Brittany flinches, she doesn’t think that’s the case.

“You’re just…you’re not what I imagined. I thought football players were rough and you’re not like that at all. You’re soft, delicate. You treat with kindness.”

“So does Kurt,” Brittany offers kindly, “And Mike, Sam too.”

“You know what I mean,” Santana replies.

“Yeah, I do. It’s called a stereotype,” Brittany smirks, “Football players happen to come in all shapes and sizes though. Some are soft and delicate like you say I am and some aren’t, but out on the field we’re all the same. We’re one team.”

Santana nods, “I’m sorry about what I said. You have every right to be on that field, same as the guys. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. I guess I’m still trying to adjust too. It’s not really something you see here…”

“I accept your apology,” Brittany grins.

Santana lets out a deep sigh, “This town can be so old school sometimes and it sucks how there are younger generations out here that don’t know any different. They don’t see how wrong it is to have such a shit mentality. I guess I forgot what progression looks like until you came.”

Brittany knows Santana’s being genuine now and it makes the wait for this conversation worth it. She goes to joke, “Well it’s a learning process. Now you know for the next time you come across someone who doesn’t fit the status quo.”

“Yeah,” Santana matches Brittany’s grin, “I really do.”

“Well hello,” Whitney greets as she enters the living room. She glances between Brittany and Santana as Santana rises to her feet. She stands up straight and proper, “You going to introduce me to your friend, Britt?”

Brittany gulps at the label. She doesn’t know if she’d call Santana a friend just yet.

“This is my mom Whitney. Mom, this is Santana,” Brittany says while Santana gives a polite smile, “We have class together. She was just bringing me some work I missed today.”

“That’s so kind of you,” Whitney compliments Santana.

“It was nothing,” Santana replied and glanced to Brittany, “I tried to warn her about the risks of over-doing it. I can’t imagine having a schedule like hers.”

Brittany’s brow rises at the overly polite tone. Who knew Santana was a little suck up when it came to parents. She smirks as she watches it unfold.

“Stubbornness, she gets that from her dad’s side,” Whitney jokes, “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re just having leftovers but there’s plenty to go around.”

“Lasagna!” Pete cheers as he runs in from the kitchen.

Santana chuckles but shakes her head, “Thank you, but I should probably get home before my mom starts to worry.”

Whitney nods, “Of course. Well, it was lovely meeting you. Come on Petey, let’s make our plates.”

When they both wander off, Brittany’s again standing alone with Santana in the living room.

“So you’re a kiss-ass,” Brittany jokes, “Never would’ve guessed it.”

Santana rolls her eyes despite smiling, “I have a thing with parents. They love me, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Brittany giggles, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re secretly kind. Wouldn’t want to ruin your rep.”

“I appreciate it,” Santana quips playfully before gathering her things, “Well, I really should head off before my mom starts blowing up my phone.”

“Cool,” Brittany nods and leads the way over to the front door to walk Santana out, “Well. Thanks again for bringing over the work I missed.”

“No biggie,” Santana waved off as she turned to leave, “Glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Brittany waved and watched Santana make her way over to her little red Mazda with a pleased smile.

Maybe they weren’t exactly friends yet, but compared to the downward spiral they’ve been experiencing…they weren’t enemies either.

And in football terms, that’s called forward progress.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #QB!Britt

[flightofaqrow]

taking our licks

qrow x Libra Stirling ( @banded-muses​​ )

[ tw: past abuse mentions ]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“F-! Fuss-! I am not fussy!” 

qrow has never seen Libra that brand of flushed, and she’s adorable, “s’nothin’ wrong with it, sweetheart. kinda cute, honestly.”

She makes a very visible flinch when he touches her, but the white knuckled grip on her arm isn’t revulsion or pulling back, it’s one to keep her hands still and from again pushing or swatting him away.

“There is nothing cute about it!” Comes a snap, voice harder than intended, with the contrast of the flush her eyes stand out even brighter, “I am not fussy!”

many things felt familiar when around Libra, but he never thought that kind of burning body language would be one of them. he knows exactly how it overwhelms, and withdraws immediately.

“alright,” both hand and voice shrink low and open in surrender, “i take it back.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Why is everyone licking everything. Also why hasn’t anyone licked her yet?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

one great big wet lick for Libra from collarbone to hairline and maaaybe a couple kisses along the way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Augh gods- not the eye not the-“ hands manage to pry his face away with an exaggerated fuss as she screws one eye closed and puffs her cheeks at him

“I guess I did ask for that”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“hey!” he huffs without much actual irritation, even if he doesn’t appreciate being swatted away when he’s only trying to serve, “now i know where fussy horns gets it from.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“F-! Fuss-!” She puffs more dragging a hand down her slobbered face before reaching to smear it back over his face, “I am not fussy!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“sure, okay,” qrow laughs and doesn’t even try to stop her. in a way, he asked for it too. and, as usual, he just digs even deeper. “i don’t think ya get to return th’ claim by using my own spit against me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Well-“ her cheeks have turned red as have the tips of her pointed ears, “well maybe I don’t want to claim you after all.. keep calling me fussy- humph!” Shes crosses her arms now; maybe she’s being fussy now but if he’s going to call her that then she’ll act the part.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow has never seen her that brand of flushed, and she’s adorable.

he wipes away wet from his face now that she’s done with it for the time being. “s’nothin’ wrong with it, sweetheart.”

fingers trace skin instead of tongue now, if she allows it, following color along her face up to those little ear tips, “kinda cute, honestly.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She makes a very visible flinch when he touches her, but the white knuckled grip on her arm isn’t revulsion or pulling back, it’s one to keep her hands still and from again pushing or swatting him away.

“There is nothing cute about it!” Comes a snap, voice harder than intended, with the contrast of the flush her eyes stand out even brighter, “I am not fussy!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Libra’s acting out the very definition of it, but saying so wouldn’t amount to anything. and qrow’s intentions in this interaction do not lie in agitation or stubborn argument towards any particular point. to the contrary, he’s taken quite by surprise.

many things felt familiar when around Libra, but he never thought that kind of burning body language would be one of them. he knows exactly how it overwhelms, and withdraws immediately.

“alright,” both hand and voice shrink low and open in surrender, “i take it back.”

he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod, doesn’t ask about the sudden goliath in the room, but he leaves space for her to speak her mind if she feels like it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Angry red impressions stand out on her arms as fingers adjust, a different kind of tension- but claws still the same. “Good.” Is all she says, turning her side to him.

Her chest hurts, the angry beating of her ever failing heart only serves to deepen the ache already present within her ribs. Breaths come in short and shallow- anything else stings too much.

child It echoes in her skull like a cavernous theatre- childchildchildbetterbetteractbetteractbetter- gods it hurts! But what hurts more, her head buzzing and frothing with an angry fog and the ringing echoes, her chest where shame and rage war for what’s left of her heart, or is it her arms and legs, stiff and aching with tension as nails again bite against flesh.

Move

A single command, or perhaps instinct, sets in and as if with a mind of their own her legs get to work to carry her away and with any luck burn through the tension building.

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while his hands no longer touch, they yet hover at a distance, as if trying to shield something so very fragile, as if not wanting to fully let go. qrow’s tries not to think too much about the last time he held them like that, his own inner struggle erupting in the barest tremble of fingers; until Libra stands and he’s forced to pull them fully back and settle.

he causes everyone he knows pain, in one way or another; a fight, and then they leave. that’s how it always goes.

but she’s not gone just yet.

he glares at the ground and escapes into his own head. usually, in times like this, he files through the archives of his brain for things his teammates, his teachers, his idols have offered. what he hears right now is his own voice, and Libra’s, together - every time they’ve been in this same situation, but reversed:

“it’s not you.”

“let’s take a walk, then.”

crimson gaze lifts to watch her exit through the door, eyes wide with realization and new hope. not like she appeared in any mood to be alone anyway, but.

he lifts himself up, too, shoves his hands in his pockets, and follows her - within awareness, but giving space and silence; the shadow of a phantom.

(she did wish for any luck to be with her. he’ll have to do.)

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He’s there of course he is of course he is. Jaws clench shut so tightly her jaw quickly begins to ache, the snarl her lips have turned into isn’t helping matters.

Turn after turn he’s still there that pest following her and despite her quick pace his legs can match her stride and losing him won’t be an easy task. For as good as hiding as Libra was Qrow always seemed better at finding her than she ever cared for. Another turn, ducking down a side street as people quickly moved from her path despite the ever narrowing walk ways.

Keep walking, keep turning.

The sting burns across the whole side of her face, and she can feel a welling heat high on her cheekbone from the rings. ‘Control it!’ He barks at her again despite knowing full well he had pushed her past her limits. She snarls back and lunges at him, only to be seized by the throat and slammed to the rocks and earth. His arm glows gold, and by extension so does she as ice cold claws rake into her mind and heart, dragging deep gouges that bled the anger dry.

Even still she was a slave to it- after all the years and years of locking it away- she was the one still in a cage and screaming like a beast. It’s darker, more cramped in the back streets of the restaurant district, her snarl is gone and people have stopped diving from her path- but the pain still lingers all the same.

What a fucking joke she was.

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it’s easy to keep pace and anticipation with her, when he’s played both sides of the same game of chase so many times before. and in the silence of the concrete spaces between them he wonders what ever changed that convinced him he should be chasing her over something like this. qrow had never been one to so ardently seek out attentions or affections, or find someone worth dealing with this level of discomfort for.

people could sort their own shit, without his dark and broken pieces there to make it even more messy. and as Libra tries to shake him, it’s clear he’s as unwanted as ever. for the first time in his life, the thought of cutting his losses and moving on needles him, an unacceptable option, even if he must accept the truth of her behavior.

he’s also never seen her like this, and every instinct he has drags down the inside of his skin in chills of concern. wandering around the darker parts of mistral with heavy distractions dulling mind and instinct would never make the cut on a list of good ideas, no matter how much skill one possesses.

whether or not the right thing to do, or for better or worse, he compromises; lets her take the next turn and keeps forward to pass on by. but claiming the next dark alley down for himself, he hops up onto a dumpster and then leaps again, changing to leave a pile of feathers behind on its lid.

hops and trots around rooftops follow from more literal shadows and distance, hidden with less of a burdening presence, even if her instincts are likely honed enough to still feel eyes upon her. he only allows himself checks from the perch of corners now and again to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble or …change her mind, if he could admit he held such hope.

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Thunder rumbles through the distant sky, and those with keen enough noses can already smell the rain coming in for the late afternoon, though here it’s liable to get lost in all the motor oil, fried foods, and general smell of low-maintenance high-traffic areas. As Libra continues to wind her way through these narrow and often shady streets the sun continues to move, throwing shadows longer and longer like hands grasping for purchase.

What did she want? Was she trying to shake Qrow? Was she looking for some racist thugs drunk enough to fight her? An excuse to fight back? Was she trying to be alone or just throw a tantrum like he always said she did?

Fussy- the word hurts just hearing it in Qrow’s voice and the breath catches in her throat. Fuck, why did it hurt so much when he said it? Libra finally stops moving and idly grips the front of her shirt, head hung down to hide her face away.

“It hurts- stop.” Despite the warmth of the late spring rains it feels like Libra’s freezing inside and out, the smell of mud and grass are dizzying as she lies on her side under her teacher. He all but kicks her over onto her back to squint weakly up at the sky as the rain fell.

“You’re being a fussy brat. You survive this and you might be able to survive what mess you manage to make of your life.” She’s got nothing left, nothing but the cold cold darkness inside of her, no anger or drive, even the physical pains were starting to drain away into the cold. Was this dying? Even the sudden jolt of fear was swallowed away-

That’s what Phantoms did after all, they died.

Was it running away when everything came back to you? It was really just like stepping out for air more than anything, dealing with problems when she had a clearer head and all… Coward It was easier as an adult, she realized later why there was an age requirement for Phantom training, and she didn’t need that bastards help any more. A few breaths, closing her eyes, and fingers combing back through her hair is all it takes for the smells and sounds to start muting in her mind, to feel the chill spread out through her body like a stretching cat.

She moves again, this time to the nearest climbable object to take her up to the rooftops. Qrow, the fussy debacle, that would all wait until she came back, for now Libra needed to go home, she’d wandered far and she had work to prepare for tomorrow. Another low rumble of thunder now drawn closer as the first drops of the shower begin on the rooftops above.

#* warmth as vehemently inevitable as the pain = banded muses ** libra * #* we may not be the brightest in the galaxy but we're here and we matter = starry skies * #* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive * #* still got a long way to go = future volumes * #abuse mention tw