#reached that phase again where everything I draw feels like it sucks (and I had less time these days too)

[o0kawaii0o]

and they were rivals 🙄

[hazelnut-u-out]

okayyyy, so... i actually skipped ahead on a couple of requests because i was kind of desperate to play around with this dynamic?? i'm still not really comfortable with writing them, but i think that this turned out okay, lol. i hope you like it!!!

request for @thesoftboiledegg based on the dynamic in this drawing by @joycew-art

-obviously, tw for basically everything (blood, violence, nsfw-ish??, etc.)

-edit: (i also went a bit more disturbing with this one, so if that’s something you’re not cool with, i’ll catch you in a different fic <3)

-3024 words

-----

Rick risked a quick glance to where Morty’s limp body lay in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room. There was no other indication that the boy was even alive aside from the deep, slow breaths that pushed and pulled on his tiny ribcage- lightly swooning his unnaturally positioned limbs.

Rick winced at the sound of his breathing. Morty’s nose and mouth had been so bloodied when the other Rick had thrown him through the portal that it didn’t surprise his grandfather that his inhales clattered like bags of broken glass rattling together.

He fought against the instinct to move towards his grandson with every passing moment. Instead, he dug his knees harder into the cold concrete beneath them. He let it leech his warmth, sucking out the last bit of hope for preserving his dignity as he kept his hands clenched tightly behind his back as he’d been told.

“Eyes up here, baby,” the impossibly younger version of himself crooned, venom dripping off of his tongue as the words slipped into the unsettlingly still atmosphere blanketing everything in the garage.

Everywhere this… version of himself went, an eerie sort of calm followed. It was that kind of calm before a storm. That honeymoon phase before the abuser exploded again.

The way he spoke, the way he smiled and fawned over Rick, he could have believed that he was actually kind and misunderstood- that he would let them go and that this was all some sort of odd misunderstanding.

But, no.

This was a sickly-sweet sort of kindness. Like how sugar goes down easily but disintegrates your teeth. Like how rotting meat smells of freshly cut fruit before the stench hits you.

Rick succumbed to the man’s request, lifting his stare up to look at him through his lashes. The other man’s grin was wide and toothy, slithering its way from one ear to the other. Rick felt his gut roil with an odd mixture of bubbling rage and fear.

“Goooood boy,” the younger Rick cooed, using the barrel of the gun he clasped in his right hand to tilt Rick’s chin up even further.

Rick couldn’t help the low growl that rumbled its way through his teeth, lip curling up in a snarl. His fingers twitched, and he cursed the fact that this motherfucker had disabled his tech.

Then, suddenly, the cold metal of the gun was hauled out from under his chin and his head reeled to the side with a brunt smacking force. His temple throbbed and he struggled to re-establish his previous posture, sucking a harsh hiss of air in from his clenched jaw.

He blinked a few times before looking up at the other man. Rick could feel a hot sticky substance running down the side of his face. He could only assume it was the same thick red liquid the other Rick was wiping from the butt of the gun and onto the fabric of his jacket.

His eyes were lasers as they bore into Rick’s own, but his gaze looked… empathetic. Soft, even.

He still smiled, but in a gentle sort of closed-lipped smirk, his brow furrowed in a way that showed concern. Rick would have believed it, too, if he hadn’t known better.

The younger of the two crouched, reaching out his hand to wipe a small trickle of blood off of Rick’s cheekbone gently. The silky caress of his thumb over Rick’s skin was acid, and Rick could have sworn the stench of his skin burning writhed around his nose. Rick winced, but otherwise forced everything about his expression into neutrality.

“Oh, you poor thing…” the other man tutted quietly, shaking his head. He retracted his thumb, looking at the blood smeared across the pad and turning it, as if he was admiring the way the dim overhead light of the garage danced along the surface. “Now, look at what a mess you’ve made. Let’s clean this up, hmm?”

His smile broadened again, still warm but with a new kind of dark energy flickering over his features. Rick fought the urge to pull his head back as the younger man pressed his bloody thumb against his lips.

The elder clenched his jaw even tighter, pressing his mouth into a tight line as the cooling blood was coated along his lips.

“Open up,” the other Rick sang, pressing his thumb with more force, pushing Rick’s lips painfully against his teeth. Rick only pressed them together more tightly.

An exasperated sigh from the man in front of him warmed the air between the two, ghosting over Rick’s face. It smelled syrupy, the essence of him dripping with sugar.

“You know better than that,” he breathed out, shaking his head lightly before placing the gun back into the holster on his hip with a light ‘click.’ Bringing his other hand around, he harshly gripped the older man’s nose, squeezing it shut between his thumb and forefinger.

It was a long moment. Rick went rigid, stilled by his determination not to breathe. The other man looked deep into his eyes, smile growing impossibly wider by the minute.

Rick’s lungs were burning, fiery fists on the inside of his chest pummeling him from the inside out to breathe.

Finally, against his own volition, Rick’s mouth shot open in a desperate gasp, and the other man’s thumb wrenched past his teeth immediately.

Rick nearly bit down, but, almost as if he’d sensed it, the younger’s hand retracted from his nose and instead brought the cold barrel of the gun back up to kiss Rick’s unmarred temple.

“Be gentle, now,” he whispered. “Use your tongue. Let’s get it all off.” His eyes were focused on Rick’s mouth, entranced. Rick wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started drooling. It made his gut twist, bile threatening to crawl its way out before he tamped down the sensation.  

Begrudgingly, Rick darted his tongue in quick circles around the salty digit, the metallic twang of his own blood coating the inside of his throat as he swallowed.

The other man let out a hushed moan, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Rick’s.

The skin of the younger’s temple was soft against his own, and Rick hoped that he wouldn’t make him lick off the blood that was no doubt being transferred in the process.

Abruptly, the other man yanked his thumb from Rick’s mouth with a distinct ‘pop’ and stood. Rick had been right. Blood now sullied the opposite side of his face- Rick’s younger, more sinister, mirror image.

He looked down at his thumb, wrinkling his nose and bringing up one side of his mouth in dramatically feigned revulsion. “Disgusting,” he spat. “It reeks of booze.” He wiped his thumb on the front of his jacket in a languid caress, returning his gaze back to Rick and circling him slowly.

The clunk of his boots reverberated through the garage as he orbited the old man- a wounded prey animal lost and confused.

Rick fixed his own stare onto the floor, watching the blood drip down from his forehead into a little puddle in front of his knees, splashing up to spatter his khakis.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped behind him, and he could feel the other man looming overhead.

“Let’s take off the coat,” the younger drawled, a gruff fleece caressing Rick’s ears.

“N-No,” Rick spit out, remaining otherwise unmoving.

The energy around them grew cold, and Rick snuck another glance at Morty.

“Hmmm?” the younger voiced, low and sinister. Rick shook his head. “Well… let me put this a different way, then…”

There was a click, the sound of a gun cocking, and then a lithe set of fingers wrenched Rick’s jaw back, pushing his head to one side- to where Morty lay, incapacitated.

The man’s other arm was extended in a leisurely aim at the little boy, his free hand now drawing lazy circles over Rick’s jawline with his thumb.

“It’s not your life on the line,” The younger looked down at Rick, offering up a soft smile. “It’s his.” Rick gulped, fighting against the urge to lunge upward and throw himself at this version of himself. “So… a couple of rules. I’m nice, you see? I only have two, and they’re reeeaal easy to follow- even for boneheads like you… Ready?”

Rick gritted his teeth but nodded curtly anyway. The younger’s smirk widened at his reaction.

“One: if you don’t listen, I shoot him. Two: if you speak, I shoot him. Understand?” He spoke slowly, as if explaining how to make an arts and crafts project to a child. Rick compelled himself not to spit in the other man’s face. He felt tears prick his eyes- just desperate to get Morty out of this situation; to not have to do whatever it was he was about to have to do. He nodded again, this time more slowly, blinking away the tears.

“Good boy,” the other man whispered, leaning down and planting a small peck of a kiss on the clean side of his forehead.

The other Rick let go of the elder’s jaw, stepping back and making his way over to Rick’s rolling chair sat at the work bench. Turning to face Rick and gesturing to the chair with the gun, he asked politely, “Mind if I take a seat?”

Rick didn’t answer, but the other man acted as if he had, planting himself in the seat in a low position. He pushed his hips forward, hands on his knees, gun resting comfortably over one, and slumped his shoulders forward slightly.

Raising an eyebrow, he spoke with a huff, “Well, why haven’t we lost the jacket yet?”

Rick narrowed his eyes, his throat burning with the effort it took to not disobey, and moved to take off his lab coat.

“No,” the other man sighed. “Are you really that stupid? Come over here- at my feet.”

Rick struggled against the fire coursing through him, pressing his tongue flush to the roof of his mouth so he wouldn’t speak. He went to shove himself up off of the ground when the younger spoke again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he let out a gruff chuckle and Rick froze, scared he’d done something wrong. “Crawl.”

Rick let loose a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, sinking to his hands and knees. His face burned with shame as he crawled, eyes glued to the floor, to where the other man sat. When the shiny leather of the combat boots were only inches from his fingers, he pushed himself back onto his knees, his back popping with the shift of movement. The other man’s hand reached out and brushed the fabric of his coat off each of his shoulders, one by one.

“Take it the rest of the way off for me, sweetheart,” the other cooed, and Rick obliged. He slipped his unsteady hands out of the sleeves and let the heap of fabric fall to the floor around him.

The younger let out a small noise of approval, pushing his hips out just a bit more. His willowy grasp found a gentle purchase in Rick’s hair, thumb lovingly stroking along his injured temple. Rick cringed at the pain, but didn’t dare protest.

“Look up at me and open your mouth.”

Rick didn’t move at first. Even his breathing paused. Then, he saw the other man’s hand tighten around the gun, and he raised his head. He stared up through his lashes and forced his jaw to unlock, lips falling open a tad.

“Wider,” the other man sang sweetly, and Rick did as he was told. “Tongue out… Good.”

Rick didn’t think shame could singe him anymore, but he could feel his ears growing hot. He struggled to keep his shoulders from caving in as he looked up at the younger, a Cheshire Cat with glowing red eyes.

Before Rick even had time to react, the other man leaned back slightly and spat, the warm substance landing on the flattened pad of his tongue. It was everything he could do to not reel back in disgust. Instead, he kept his tongue out, willing himself not to gag as the saliva cooled in the open air.

“Well?” an exasperated bite of a question rang out overhead. “Swallow, dipshit.”

When Rick didn’t move immediately, it was a quick measure to bring the gun up to his gaping mouth. The cold metal bit into his tongue and he gagged as the hand that rested on the side of his head shoved him down along the shaft. His jaw seared with pain as the square, rigid shape of the gun gave no leeway to the natural conformity of his throat.

Tutting, the younger held him there, gasping for air desperately through his nose and wringing his head this way and that to attempt to stop the uncomfortable retching. Rick dug his nails into the concrete until it hurt to avoid stupidly placing his hands against the other man’s knees to gain some leverage.

After a long moment, tears streaming down the elder’s face, the other Rick let up. He pulled the gun back, a string of saliva connecting Rick’s quivering lips to the barrel as he sputtered and choked. Rick fell forward, head coming to rest on the other’s knee as he tried desperately to catch his breath. The man’s other hand resumed its gentle stroking, and Rick hated the part of himself that careened upward into the comforting touch.

“You’re an ugly old fucker, but it’s just so damn cute when my pets cry for me,” he drawled from overhead, leaning down until his breath stroked the elder’s flushed face. Rick felt the hot moisture of the other man’s tongue lick a lethargic stroke up his cheek, lapping up his tears. He didn’t have the energy to flinch away. The old man, instead, lay there, slumped over and drooling onto his lap.

“Would you like to sit on my lap?” The other Rick murmured, warm lips brushing along the shell of Rick’s ear. Rick nodded, sensing ‘yes’ was the right answer, but the other man brought the damp weapon back up to tap his cheek curtly. “Use your words.”

Rick hesitated for a moment before mouthing a faint, “Yes.”

Then, the firearm was promptly pulled away from his cheek, the younger immediately retracting his face from his own and aiming. Rick started as the sound of the gun firing rang around the room- a bullet firing through Morty’s left foot. Blood sprayed along the concrete and Rick shot to his feet.

The small boy didn’t even stir.

Rick cried out in pain as the other man swept his leg out, crumpling him to the ground without having to so much as stand. “Don’t move.”

Rick froze, not knowing what to do- a stinging ache wisping along his knees.

“What did I say about speaking?” The other man said pleasantly, hand reaching back out to stroke the side of Rick’s face. Rick couldn’t pull his eyes away from Morty’s body- the blood seeping into the ground around him.

How the fuck had he gotten this poor kid into this? Morty was just a boy. He was born a saint- the only person Rick had met that wanted to forgive incessantly- and Rick had thought him a criminal by birthright. There was nothing- nothing- inherently evil about that boy that lay in front of him, life seeping out of his wilting form. Anything rotten or callous about him was there by Rick’s design. He had the chance to make something better for him and he’d instead decided to mold him into his image. He’d picked out all of the bad parts of himself, all the bits he hated and tried to throw away, and stitched them into his grandson. He told him these were the good parts, the parts of himself that he should have coveted and treasured- but they were the bits that would condemn him to hellfire. This is what he'd done.

He pulled that little one from his only chance at salvation and damned him to a life of self-hatred and darkness. The insults that were hurled from his whiskey-soaked tongue, the blood that washed over his smoke stained hands, that had all sullied that boy.

Rick had been insolent enough to think that he could learn to heal, that he could be better for him- somehow repay him for the life he’d ripped away from him.

But… no. Everything Rick had fought for had culminated into nothing but this. This. This was Morty’s destiny. This was his own.

Rick let out a shaky cry, and the younger made some sort of shushing sound, leaning forward and wiping tears from the elder’s cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay, honey. You didn’t know,” he clucked. “How could you? You’re so… dumb. Honestly, it’s my fault for expecting more from you… C’mere. Sit in my lap,” he patted his thigh with the gun, an odd sort of clacking sound emanating from the movement. “I’ll make it better.”

Rick nodded shakily, standing on trembling legs and moving towards the other. As he sat on the younger’s lap, sobs twisted through him and shook his aging form. He couldn’t control it anymore- something inside of him broke. He just wanted to crawl across the floor to Morty; to hold his little body in his arms and make sure he’d be okay. At any rate, he wanted to die letting the blood of a lamb wash away his sins.

There was some irony in it, he thought. The crimson that had painted the floor of his own garage all those years and dimensions ago, and then… now- that scarlet coiling around Morty’s delicate limbs, here.

A parallel. A mirror image of what he’d sworn he’d never let happen again.

The other man brought his arms up in a… warm embrace. Rick let himself cry into his shoulder, crumpling over him- truly no more than an extension of- a slave to- the man who had killed his wife and daughter.

He wouldn't move if it meant that there was even a sliver of a chance that he could get Morty out of this somehow.

There was nothing he could do.

[malfoysstilinski]

pretty sights | draco malfoy smut

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco walks in on you masturbating on his bed and talks you through it before finishing you off himself.

warnings: smut, female and male masturbation, fingering, eating out, praise kink but also some degradation, slight cum play, maybe more?

word count: 2.1k 

a/n: this was meant to be less than 500 words for a blurb but i got carried away--

Draco was late. The two of you had been hooking up for a few months now, right under the noses of all of your friends, and he was easily the best you’d ever had. He’d slipped you a note that morning, telling you to be in his prefect dorm by seven that night-- no excuses. 

Yet here you were, all alone, no Draco in sight at all. You sighed, shutting your eyes as you lay your body across his silk sheets. They were the same Slytherin green that he loved, making you smile a little as you skimmed your fingers across them. His scent surrounded you; the green apple of his shampoo, the expensive cologne you bought him every year for his birthday. 

It was hard not to get turned on when you thought about all of the things that had happened on this bed. All of the words he’d said to you, all of the things he’d done to you and promised to do to you again and again and again until you were sick of it. You were sure you would never get sick of Draco and his fingers or his tongue or his cock. 

Without thinking too much about it, you sighed and wriggled on his bed so your head was comforted by his pillow. Your hand snaked down past the waistband of your school skirt, past your panties, touching your cunt. Your hands were cold from the coolness of the Slytherin dungeons, making you gasp. 

“Fuck…” You whispered, arching your back slightly to get a better angle at your clit. 

Waves of arousal surged through you as you began to rub yourself, feeling it throb beneath you as wetness collected around your entrance, dampening your fingers slightly as you slid them down. Swallowing, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, small breathy whimpers leaving your lips as you thought about Draco. 

“Are you imagining those are my fingers, darling?”

You glanced up, barely phased by Draco’s silent entrance into his bedroom. He stood leaning against the door, his arms folded and his silver eyes dark. His jaw was slightly clenched as if he was restraining himself from marching over to the bed and finishing your job himself. 

“Mhm,” you gave a small hum and a nod, deciding to part your legs a little so that he could see what you were doing better. 

Draco nearly groaned at your words, his lips parting slightly as he strode over. He kneeled on the end of the large bed, grabbing your knees with his large hands and parting them even further. Your actions didn’t stop on your clit, your fingers drawing circles that he couldn’t see properly past the lacy panties that you were wearing. 

Hiking your skirt up, he then reached forward and pulled at your panties. You moved your hand so he could tug them all the way down, but quickly returned your hand. Draco’s tongue darted out and wetted his top lip, entranced by your movements. 

“Are they as good as my fingers?” Draco questioned, voice darker than usual.

“No,” you whispered, sliding your middle finger down to your entrance and thrusting it inside, curling it the best you could. “Yours are so much longer. Feel so much better inside me. Thicker and deeper.”

Draco nearly looked like he was drunk, sort of dazed as he focused on your pleasuring yourself. He’d never seen you do it before, he’d always been the one making you feel good. His cock felt hard in his trousers, throbbing as it begged to be inside of you. Draco refrained from palming himself, tracing circles on your knee as he studied you. 

“Add another finger, pretty girl,” Draco murmured, “Stretch yourself wider for me.”

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you did as you were told, sliding your ring finger inside as well. Draco’s mouth parted a little further, his hand now gripping your knee a little as you began to slide your fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. He watched the way you curled them upwards, but he could tell that your own fingers didn’t do it for you like his own did. 

“Go faster,” Draco ordered, “I want to hear how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched but nevertheless you obeyed. Thrusting in and out of your cunt, you threw your head back and allowed your thumb to simultaneously rub at your clit. You wished he would take over and fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted into his green, silky sheets, but this was also arousing-- the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten already.

“Does rubbing your clit feel good, princess?” Draco whispered. 

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Pull out your fingers,” he commanded, watching with a smirk as you followed everything he said. “Let me lick them clean for you. Don’t want a drop to go to waste.”

You sat up a little, Draco moving to hover over you, his hand hand supporting his weight. You guided your fingers towards his mouth, watching as he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out slightly. A gush of wetness dampened your cunt even further, a moan escaping your lips as he took your fingers into his mouth, sucking lightly whilst looking you in the eye. 

He smirked around your fingers, the tip of his tongue cleaning you before he pulled away with a small pop. Breathlessly, you reached for him and tugged his face close to yours, your lips smashing against his. Draco’s mouth worked against yours like magic, like you were made for one another, his other hand moving to grab the back of your neck and bring you even closer.

“So good for me,” Draco muttered as he pulled away, his forehead against yours. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You’d do anything I say…”

“Anything,” you promise with a nod.

Draco bit his lip and then grinned, grabbing you by the neck and forcing you down against his pillows. You gasped as you looked up at him, feeling his hand snake down between your legs. He swiped a finger through your folds without breaking eye contact, causing your back to arch a little, thrusting your hips as he cupped your cunt with his large, cool hand. 

“So fucking wet…” He muttered, “Did imagining that it was me make you wanna cum, darling?”

“So bad,” you whispered. 

You were nearly cut off by two of his fingers thrusting straight into your entrance. It was so abrupt that you cried out, your head snapping backwards. The sound vibrated through the hand that Draco had wrapped around your neck, his thumb rubbing over your pulse point as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. The sounds that were being made nearly made you blush, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he curled his fingers, hitting spots that you could never reach by yourself. 

“Good girl,” Draco growled, “Such a good fucking girl for me. You know that nobody can make you cum like I do, don’t you? Not even yourself anymore. I’ve ruined you for even yourself.”

You could barely nod against him, your head too fuzzy. You felt like you were on cloud nine, small screams ripping past your lips when his thumb found your clit. He rubbed at it harshly, feeling your legs tremble. 

Draco pulled his fingers out of your cunt and retracted his hand from your throat. You squirmed as he moved down your body, grabbing your hips and pinning you down against the mattress so you couldn’t move. Your entire body shook a little as you felt him spit on your cunt. 

He moved one arm away and swirled his spit around your pussy, mixing it with your arousal before diving down. He didn’t ease you into it like normal, didn’t lick a stripe through your folds and then kitten lick at your clit, but wrapped his entire mouth around your swollen bud and began to suck. 

“Draco!” You moaned, reaching down and grabbing at his platinum hair, tugging slightly. “Fuck! Fuck, just like that…”

Draco made slurping noises and moaned against your cunt, enjoying the waves of wetness that coated his tongue as he lifted from your clit to thrust slightly at your entrance. Squeezing your eyes shut, you threw your head back and whined, desperate for some sort of release.

His moans against you grew more frequent so you lifted your head slightly, finding Draco rolling his hips against the bed. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your entrance a few times before peering up at you, silver eyes dark and hazy. 

“Have I ever told you how much eating you out fucking turns me on?” Draco muttered, grabbing your knees and yanking your legs apart again from where you had begun to squeeze them together for some sort of pressure. 

He delivered a smack to your clit, causing you to whimper. “Do not shut your legs,” he hissed, “Or I’ll leave you here alone to get off by yourself again.”

“No, no-- please,” you begged him. 

Draco’s smirk widened as he palmed himself through his trousers, bending down to suck at your clit. You felt his teeth nibble slightly, your mouth shaking as it dropped open. His hand that wasn’t currently unbuttoning his trousers moved to thrust fingers inside of you, fucking in and out of you whilst his tongue lapped you up and swirled around your swollen bud. 

The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, your teeth clamping down on your lips. You peered down at him again, moaning even louder when you realised that Draco had his hand in his underwear and was pumping at his cock whilst he got you off. 

“Please let me cum,” you sobbed, “Please, Draco. I’m gonna cum!”

Draco thrusted his fingers in harsher, lapping you up quicker. His tongue was flat against your clit, his breath hitting you in the most delicious way. You felt him nod and knew that permission had been granted. It didn’t take long before you tumbled over the edge, cumming all over Draco’s tongue. Your walls squeezed at his fingers, Draco groaning into you, sending vibrations across your body. 

“So fucking hot…” He muttered as he pulled his finger out of you and kneeled between your legs.

He pushed his trousers down and pumped his cock, rubbing his hand up and down it. It looked like he was going to cum any moment, hard as ever and leaking precum. Then, Draco moved to hover over you, his hands either side of your head. You thought he was going to thrust himself inside of you and use your body until he came, but then one of his hands reached down to guide his cock through your folds. 

You whimpered, feeling his dick slide through your arousal and hit your clit. Draco thrusted his hips, rubbing his cock up and down your wet cunt, pressing into your clit every now and then. His mouth dropped open a little and then he swallowed thickly, glancing down between your bodies to watch his cock slide between your folds, hard and red and glistening with your cum. 

“Fuck, gonna cum all over your beautiful cunt,” Draco hissed, giving a few more thrusts before you felt his hot seed spill all over you. “Yeah, that’s it. Take my cum.”

Draco groaned loudly, burying his head in your neck, his lips nipping at you for a moment or two. Your hands moved to his pale back where you grazed your nails up and down his skin, thrusting your hips up to apply some more pressure to his cock. It jerked slightly when he was finished cumming and he pulled away, studying the mess that he had made all over you. 

“Fuck…” Draco muttered, “I’m not sure there’s a prettier sight than this… You covered in my cum.”

His fingers moved to swirl in his cum and he dipped them down to your entrance, thrusting it inside of you. He scooped more and did the same, painting you with it. Your body trembled and you swore, watching lazily as he rubbed your clit a few more times. You shuddered and came, this time less intense than the last, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

“Maybe I’ll turn up late again if I get to walk in on you getting off on my bed,” Draco muttered, leaning up and brushing your hair out of your face with his clean hand. He slipped his messy one into your mouth, letting you clean it for him. “Fancy a bath now?”

You chuckled breathlessly and nodded. “You read my mind.”

[bonkers-4-hatter]

!Yandere !Vampire Kisumi X Reader - Love Bites

♥ TW: This fanfic has mentions of kidnapping, violence, assault, biting and mentions of blood along with the biting, forced intimacies, forcing self onto the reader at certain points and yandere themes and actions. ♥ If any of the above does trigger you, please do not read. All characters are 18+ as college is mentioned in the past tense. 

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥                                                                                              ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥                                  You were never one to believe in such things as mythical creatures, it was just a bunch of nonsense. Of course, they’re wonderful tall tales to tell and talk about when you were younger, but you’re grown now; out of that phase you could say.

Tall tales, that’s all they were...at least you thought they were.

You could draw everything that you’ve experienced and seen as a lack of sleep, working too hard, or just needing a break to calm your mind, but with the most recent experiences you just couldn’t come up with an excuse for them and that very thought chilled you to your core. The dark figure standing in the corner of your room at night using the darkness as a veil, but the thing that stood out to you was the flickers of pink from the top of the figure's head from the small slivers of moonlight peeking through the closed curtains. 

Not only did the figure terrify you, but the touches were what set you over the edge. The soft touches that caressed your cheeks, head and the curves and contours of your body as the hands glided across your blanket covered body. You would always peek your eyes open only to see the same pink hair in your view.

The only person you knew with pink hair was Kisumi. 

He was your friend, a close friend at that. You guys did everything together, having been friends since College it just made sense for you guys to do things together. His behavior used to be carefree, fun and just free. Kisumi was a free spirit, but you noticed something change within him in the past few years; he was more possessive toward you. Always wanting to have your attention, scaring off potential significant others.

This wasn’t his usual behavior with you. Not only that, but his mannerisms have changed too. Not really eating in front of you, coming over at night only; claiming his new job had him working mornings many days and just being too exhausted to go anywhere with you during the day. Just weird things that have come up that rubbed you the wrong way. 

You hated that your mind went to these tall tales of Vampires, but you couldn’t come up with a normal answer. With his towering figure plaguing your mind, the touches that came in contact with your resting body and the constant fear and shiver of being watched by something unknown, hidden, just lurking in the shadows with their eyes fixated on you. 

Looking at how Kisumi was laughing and socializing with your guys’ group of friends, it’s as if nothing changed with him and he was the same ole Kisumi that everyone knew and had a great time with. He might have been able to fool the rest of your friends, but you knew something was up and tonight you were going to confront him even if you sounded like a lunatic. Taking a final drink of your (favorite drink), you placed some money on the table to cover your portion of the bill along with everyone else as everyone started to get up and say their goodbyes, making plans to meet up again next month as usual. 

Giving a final wave to your friends, you felt an arm snake around your shoulders and pulled you into a firm body. “(Y/N)-chan, let’s get you home.” Kisumi’s smooth voice filtered through your ears as you both made your way down the mostly empty sidewalk, the chatter and lively atmosphere of the restaurant dying away the further you walked away. The only noise that echoed around the silent street was both of your footsteps.

“You know I can get myself home, right Kisu?” He only shook his head and rubbed your shoulder, his cold skin giving you goosebumps as he brushed his fingers against the skin of your exposed upper arm. That was another weird thing with him, he was always cold now. He used to be warm, overly warm actually, always a human furnace. Now though, he was always cold to the touch and it always made you shiver no matter how many times it happened. 

“I know (Y/N), but I have to protect you from all the monsters out there, don’t I?” Another shiver ran down your spine at his question, you knew it was playful. It was Kisumi, he was always playful when it came to you, but this felt like it held an underlying meaning; like he was trying to tell you something. Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at his words. “Sure, the monsters Kisumi, whatever you say.” He laughed at your words as the both of you continued to walk down the street in silence. 

Clearing your throat, you decided to just ask him. “So, speaking of monsters, what do you think about vampires?” Kisumi stopped walking as he grasped your shoulder in a tight grip making you reel back as well. “What the hell Kisumi?!” Your shoulder burned a bit at how hard he dug his fingernails into your skin, but he still didn’t let go. Looking at his face he had a stoic look and his eyes were menacing in a way; narrowed and pointed right at you. “Vampires? Now, why would little (Y/N)-chan bring up such a thing as Vampires?” The malice that was laced in his voice was evident and downright terrifying especially in a situation where you were alone with him at night on an empty street. 

You tried to yank yourself away from his strong hold, but he didn’t let up. “It was a joke Kisumi, what’s wrong with you?” He only smirked at your words, before pushing against your shoulder until you hit the brick wall of one of the buildings. “A joke huh?” Placing his other hand on your free shoulder, he pinned you in place, the brick rubbing against your exposed skin in a way that it surely would leave marks. Before you could protest, Kisumi leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Do you think it’s a joke as you watch me in the corner of your room, or when I touch your delicious body in bed?” Your breath caught in your throat at his words. 

Your hands pushed hard against his chest, fear crawling up your body at his words. “That’s not fucking funny Kisu, I’m leaving.” Without waiting for him to respond, you shoved your way past him, resuming the trek to your house. Even the thought of your house wasn’t safe, it made you even more fearful, but you didn’t have much of a choice at this point. You felt like the darkness was suffocating you at this point and without a second thought, you ran the remainder of the few blocks, your front door in your view making you somewhat relieved. 

Deadbolting the door, your body slid down, settling at the floor. You felt exhausted, fearful and not to mention paranoid. Heavy eyes scanned the living room and what you could see of your hallway and everything seemed clear. Getting up with weak legs, you turned on every light in the house paying no mind to the thought of your electric bill nor how silly it seemed. This was what made you feel safe and at this point you were going to do anything to feel that way. 

After changing into some pajamas and trying to relax from the encounter with Kisumi, you found yourself wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, television playing a cliche horror movie. Wanting something to take your mind off what happened, you got sucked into the black and white film.

Your mind was completely preoccupied with the slasher film, blanket clutched in your hands, hiding your face behind the fuzzy comfort item as specific gory and violent scenes would pop on the screen. Usually you would watch these movies, any movie really with Kisumi...your mind went to your friend for a moment, not of the creepy things that have arisen recently, but of the memories of you both together. He would be here right now poking fun at you for being scared of these scenes, but also ‘protecting’ you from whatever was going on.

As your mind was wandering, you didn’t notice the presence next to you, not until a hand was on your thigh, fingers tapping against the supple flesh that was exposed from your pajamas. A scream erupted from your throat, but a hand clasped over your mouth, muffled cries were the only thing in the room, the noises on the television being drowned out by the thumping of your own heart. “Now (Y/N), this is the best part, hold in that scream for a minute, alright love?” His hand was still over your mouth and his free one was still trailing along your thigh. Side eyeing him, he sat there with a content smile on his face, eyes still glued on the screen. You stayed in that position for the next ten minutes until the credits were rolling.

“I loved watching these movies with you (Y/N), it was nice to be your savior when you got scared at certain scenes.” His hand uncovered your mouth, but started to stroke the soft skin down the slope of your neck getting dangerously close to the valley of your chest. “K-Kisu...how’d you get in?” Your body started to tremble as he just laughed at the fear pouring out of you at this moment. Gripping the back of your neck, Kisumi pulled you toward him, his face shoving itself into the crook of your neck as he started to place soft kisses along the slope of your neck and your collarbone. 

You felt his hot breath fan your skin as he answered your question. “Oh (Y/N), I think you already know the answer...I always tell you to lock your window.” The color drained from your face. Your window. The window that was always unlocked. It was something you didn’t think about because it was on the second floor. A place no human can reach because there were no trees, ledges, anything to help with climbing up. 

“Am I right Kisu?” A single question you needed answered. A heavy silence hung in the air as the man in question even stopped his kisses on your skin. “You’re always right (Y/N), I knew you would piece everything together, my (Y/N) is smart after all.” You could feel the sharpness of teeth scrape against the tender flesh of your neck, your breath hitching at the sensation. 

“I’ve always wanted to taste you, to know how sweet your blood is, I might get addicted to it (Y/N), but I don’t want to drain you dry...I want you around forever with me.” He laughed at the flinch in your body as he pressed his fangs a bit deeper into your neck. “You’re not ready to be changed yet either.” Sitting back up, he effortlessly pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist and anchoring you to him. “I think I’ll keep you as my personal toy until you’re ready to be changed, doesn’t my (Y/N) like the sound of that?” Fully grinning at the petrified look on your face, he showed you his sharp fangs, tongue sliding over them to add emphasis on what would happen if you disobeyed him.

--

You didn’t know what month it was, let alone the day. You just knew it’s been so long since Kisumi took you that night at your former house. After he had you in his arms, he told you what was going to happen. You got to pack what you could that night and he took you away. His home was your home now, or as he puts it, our home. 

He didn’t let you out, the house was your own personal prison and you...you were Kisumi’s personal blood bag. He didn’t want to kill you, nor turn you yet, but he had to have a taste of your blood, he tasted every other aspect of you and he knew he’d be addicted to your blood and it turns out he was.

Your skin was littered in bite marks. He would pierce your skin and take a drink from you, enough to make you dizzy before he stopped himself. He couldn’t wait for the wound to heal which is why he bites you in any available skin no matter where it is. 

He just wanted your sweet blood. Sometimes he would go overboard and will only stop if you pass out. Due to him feeding on you, you were exhausted. You turned into a shell of your former self with his constant feeding. Dark bags were under your eyes, droopy lids accompany them as well. All you wanted was rest, proper rest, but you knew you’d never get that again. 

You wouldn’t get anything you wanted again.

“(Y/N), my love, there you are.” Your head lolled to the side, Kisumi standing there with his usual smile on his face. The bed dipped down as his hands smoothed over your body, caressing any part of you he could get. He kissed your lips and made his way down to your neck. Before he could do anything, you whined out, hands weakly trying to stop him. 

“Please, not today Kisumi, I don’t think I can do it. I hurt so much, you drank too much yesterday, please give me a day to recover.” Kisumi cupped your face, thumb stroking the dark bags that decorated under your eyes. “Rest? (Y/N), we’ve been over this already sweetheart, I need to taste you everyday otherwise I might snap and we wouldn’t want that, right?” His hand clutched your face, squishing your cheeks together as you frantically shook your head not wanting to have him hurt you again.

“Good, that’s my good girl.” Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he let your face go, a breath of relief escaped you as he bared his fangs and traced them over the scarred skin before sinking into the skin of your neck, a place he hasn’t touched in a week which was plenty of time to heal in his opinion.

“Ahh, Kisu...hurts, Kisu, it hurts..” Your weak voice flooded his ears, but he paid you no mind, you always struggled when he did this, but you were his to use and abuse to his desire. You were his little toy, his precious (Y/N).

The feeling of your blood sliding down his throat was beautiful. It was like a drug to him, he couldn’t get enough of it and he knew he was breaking you, but he didn’t care. He will turn you soon and you’ll be fine, but for now he needs you to keep hanging on. The quiet moans of pain only turned him on as he sunk his fangs deeper in your soft skin. “Kisu..too much, stop, please.” Soft pounding of your hands on his back snapped him out of his trance, Unlatching himself from your neck, your head fell to the side, eyes half lidded and skin heated after the ordeal. 

Licking a stray drop of blood from his lips and the puncture wounds on your neck, he was satisfied for now. Even though he was addicted to your blood, he was excited to turn you. You would finally be his forever, just as it should’ve been. Smirking at your worn out body, he gave you one last kiss before throwing a blanket over you and stalking off to finish your turning ceremony.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 03

(Masterpost)(Previous Episode) 

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

 Wei Wuxian demonstrates the purple nurple technique of the Jiang Clan

Should’ve Used Trivago

The Jiang Clan’s reservation got cancelled while they were on the road, so they are going to wander around this small inn for hours being fussed about it, rather than trying another inn. Yes they say the other inns are all full but…so is this one, now. 

The Jin Clan sends an advance party to fancy up the inn for them.

Fuckboi Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian decides to use his considerable powers of prettiness to get them a room.  He drops some poetry on Mianmian and brazenly flirts with her before shifting to properly introducing himself and asking for a room. 

This actually works.

...until her boss shows up.

(Much much more after the cut!)

Worst Person // Best Jin

Jin ZIxuan is an ass and a snob. 

I guess we have to give him credit for having a beautiful sidekick and never hitting on her, given that his dad is a rapist and one of his half-brothers is (reputedly) a sex pest and the other half brother is (definitely) an incest perp. But I feel like it doesn’t take much to be the best Jin of his or his father’s generation.

The Jin folks are snobs and talk about how great their fancy and expensive stuff is. It’s an interesting contrast with true connoisseur Nie Huaisang, who loves everything that is fine and beautiful and can quote stacks of poetry off the top of his head, but is not even a little bit of a snob. 

This Tea Smells Like Farts

Ok, let’s talk about generation names in the Jin clan. Ru is the name for Jin Ling’s generation, hence his courtesy name Rulan. The name for the current generation is apparently Zi (子), because both Zixuan and his jerk cousin Zixun have that as their name.  Sect Leader Jin Guangshan would seem to be using the generation name Guang, but then names his son Jin Guangyao so…the whole system breaks down. 

Anyway, my point here is that even considering generation names, if I had a baby and named it Zixuan, and my sister-in-law promptly had a baby and named it Zixun, I would slap her. 

Find you a lover who does not make you feel like this 

Jin Zixuan is mildly intrigued by his betrothed, and expresses it by being rude to her in front of Wei Wuxian, starting a chain of events that will culminate with Wen Ning’s fist going all the way through Jin Zixuan’s chest.

Side Note: Look at these young Jiang Brothers and their casual shoulder hugs. Sigh.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat PlayBook

When Wei Wuxian wants to throw down, he starts with smack talk, moves along to boundary crossing, then to direct threats, and then brings out a weapon if he hasn’t won already. 

Here he starts shit with Jin Zixuan by complaining at him for taking up too much space and having too many sycophants.  Then he goes for the unwelcome shoulder touch. 

Having been sufficiently provocative to get someone to draw a sword and threaten him with physical violence, he shifts to formal verbal sparring. 

This gets the other guy to back down, because even at this age no-one actually wants to tangle with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian gets to claim the moral advantage, although he still doesn’t get to keep his hotel room. 

Actually Not A Fan of My Sister’s Betrothal

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli have the first of many, many moments of heterosexual ineptitude together. Wei Wuxian quickly rescues them.

Hi, I’m Young Master Cockblock.

Neither of the boys understands what Yanli sees in Zixuan and neither do I, at this juncture. He does improve later after multiple beatings from Wei Wuxian.

This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change

Yanli’s encounter in the Inn is the first step toward the inexorable end of the three of them as a unit, although it’s still a long ways off. They are all growing up and she and Wei Wuxian are both going to fall in love at summer camp, like in a 1980s teen movie but without the virginity betting (presumably). 

Meanwhile poor Jiang Cheng is going to be swept along just trying to keep up with events, which becomes the story of his life for the next two decades.

Welcome to Transylvania

We meet Wen Ruohan. He is boring and he sucks. Also I’m summarizing the Transylvania parts out of order because they break up the rhythm of the story. And are boring and suck.

We meet Xue Yang. He seems nice.

Wen Ruohan’s living room is like a shitty nightclub where everyone is too drunk to dance except Xue Yang.

Dee Jay: Undead undead undead, Bela Lugosi’s dead

[OP can’t get a video to embed in this post with looping enabled, so the alternate version of this joke has its own post right here. That will teach OP to get fancy.]

Anyhoo

We meet Wen Qing. She is the bestest most wonderful girl in the world but this isn’t actually when we find that out. 

Right now we just find out that she is absurdly pretty, that she loves her brother deeply, and that she is helping Wen Ruohan with his “take over the world by murdering cultivators” project. OKAY, PROBLEMATIC, BUT SHE IS THE BESTEST GIRL OKAY? 

Gatekeeping

The Jiang Clan don’t get another inn but they do manage to change into immaculate white robes while they’re out on the street, so - nice work, Jiang Clan. Be free!

They get stuck outside the gate because they don’t know that the secret to getting into Cloud Recesses is to set the gate guard on fire. 

Walking Thirst Trap Hanguang-Jun

Lan Wangji shows up and everyone except Yanli, who is already in love with Sir Golden Pants, makes thirst faces at him. Including Jiang Cheng tho he will never admit it. One girl in the background is actually biting her knuckle. 

Note: Lan Wangji knows exactly how fine he is. Look at his fucking hairstyle. 

He is sixteen years old. The only person in the entire cultivation world with fancier hair is Nie Mingjue, and that’s because he indulges his dìdi’s braiding hobby. 

Wei Wuxian loudly stage whispers that LWJ is their key to getting in and LWJ is is like, not fucking likely, person I didn’t glance at yet. 

But then Wei Wuxian says a smart cultivator thing about the puppet dude, and Lan Wangji turns around and has the first of many long mutual staring sessions with this boy he totally isn’t going to like at all.

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about the future: a 2-frame gif

Unrelated gardening note: the red-crack puppet is more commonly grown in Gusu and Dafan, while the black-line puppet is native to Yiling

I Must Arrange a Date with this Uninteresting Boy

The rest of the evening is a series of tests that Lan Wangji puts Wei Wuxian through. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this and Lan Wangji probably doesn’t exactly know it either. 

First he sends WWX back to town to get the invitation. Yes, go get it. Not your entourage; YOU, talky person who thinks he can manipulate me and is smart and looks...intriguing. Go find it and come back. 

When Wei Wuxian complains, Lan Wangji silences him, which is literally the most boss move he could have used on smooth talking Wei Wuxian. 

You tried, Fuckboi.

Would you like to try some more because I think I would like you to try some more

Jiang Cheng is the Better Baby Brother

Sorry, he just is. Wei Wuxian is all about being taken care of and adoring Yanli without actually doing much for her. Jiang Cheng is the one who thinks about her feelings and giving her what she needs, even to the point of arranging that wedding rehearsal dinner so she can be with her favorite brother again -- the favorite who isn’t him, much as she also loves him. 

Date Test 1: Can You Get In.

Once Wei Wuxian is definitely gone, Lan Wangji shows up again and collects the entire retinue, guaranteeing that Wei Wuxian will be stranded outside the gate when he gets back.  LWJ doesn’t wait by the gate; he goes and waits up on the roof instead of going to bed or whatever else he’s supposed to be doing. Because he already knows the route Wei Wuxian will be taking. 

Wei Wuxian passes the “get in through the wards” test with no problem besides a minor headache and bent fingers. 

Is that Xiao Zhan’s hand or did they use a double-jointed hand model?

Date Test 2: Fight Me (Lan Wangji’s Combat Playbook)

As soon as Wei Wuxian shows up on the roof, Lan Wangji picks a fight with him. 

LWJ fights all the time; he’s perfectly comfortable when he’s fighting and it’s a good venue for him to express himself. His style is graceful and aggressive. 

Attack attack attack strike a pose, vogue, you know it.  

He starts by going all in on swordplay, but that doesn’t gain him the advantage; Wei Wuxian fends him off without ever drawing his sword. Which is probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Lan Wangji in his young life.

Do you like me better when I’m horizontal? 

Next Lan Wangji deploys the pettiness by breaking WWX’s wine. Then when Wei Wuxian starts insulting him he upgrades to next level pettiness by dropping another silence spell, this time with the added bonus of preventing WWX from drinking. 

Wei Wuxian’s Combat Playbook, Redux

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is running his own fight routine, starting with a charm attack, which doesn’t work at all. 

Are you admiring the moon? 

He keeps trying to de-escalate for the first phase of their fight, until they reach a pause and he reflects that Lan Wangji has real skills. As soon as he makes that determination he goes on the offensive - with words. 

He very formally says he’s too busy to continue fighting, and turns away, which is a pretty solid roast when you say it to someone who’s been trying really hard to kick your ass. Then he continues defending easily until Lan Wangji uses the wine against him. 

At this point the gloves come off, with Lan Wangji lecturing Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian making ad hominem attacks, Lan Wangji forcibly shutting him up... 

...and then throwing him on the floor in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen. 

Sincere Grief for the Death of our Colleague

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen feel really bad for their disciple who has been horribly turned into an undead creature. Ha ha j/k

Date Test 3: Face the Authorities

Lan Wangji gets to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment.  This probably won’t awaken anything in him. 

Surprise surprise, Wei Wuxian actually passes the Authority test with flying colors. Lan Qiren doesn’t like him, but listens respectfully to his thoughts about the undead cultivator. And Lan Xichen clearly does like him.

When Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji was nice to his sister, his entire demeanor changes, to such an enormous degree that Lan Wangji starts to run away.

He’s not going to let this boy (who has passed all the tests oh no he passed all the tests) make out with him in front of his family like he is obviously planning. 

But once again, Wei Wuxian’s cultivation knowledge captures Lan Wangji’s attention and breaks through his reserve. 

This Hardy Boys moment is the beginning of their cultivation partnership.

Lan Wangji is brave but is extremely constrained: by the authorities in his life and by his own rigid reserve. Wei Wuxian is brave and is also free. His companionship gives Lan Wangji an opportunity to engage with a much broader range of the things that interest him than he’s ever had before. 

After Wei Wuxian has been sent to bed, Lan Wangji stands outside and -- just as WWX had suggested at the beginning of their date/fight -- admires the moon, with an expression that’s anything but upset. 

Sure, sex is cool (probably), but have you ever analyzed a walking corpse with a beautiful boy in the moonlight?

If you’ve got your true honey Life can be pretty funny If you've got money, money to burn Rooty toot toot for the moon It's the biggest star I've ever seen

The Fine-as-Hell Brothers

Alone together, Lans Xichen and Wangji talk over the various things on their minds. 

Xichen: What the fuck is up with you? ...Rooftop fights and dropping spells on boys?

Wangji: You and uncle were ignoring me so I was making my own fun

Xichen: Yeah, we are dealing with this zombie situation; shit’s going to hit the fan

Wangji: what are you going to do about it?

Xichen: fuck-all

Wangji: Well, you can rely on me

Xichen: I totally do. So how about you get to know this Wei kid, he seems like a fun ride.

Wangji: *death glare*

Xichen: You know, since Dad died you’ve become even more uptight. I wonder if I’ve been too strict with you?

Wangji: Um, you think? 3000 fucking rules, dude. Fortunately I’m not going to go off the rails and fall in love with my polar opposite and cause havoc in the cultivation world or anything like that.

Xichen: good, me neither

Outtro

Writing prompt: Lan Xichen’s secret nightly letter to his Mom’s memory or spirit (your choice), in which he confides in her about his day. May be written in flute solo form. 

(As always if you use this prompt feel free to post a link to your fic in comments!)

Soundtrack: 1. This Is The Day by The The  2.  Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Bauhaus 3. Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon, Greg Brown version 4. Madonna, Vogue

Bonus: FineAsHell-Jun

Episode 04 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

[pascalscenarios]

YOU & I (Frankie Morales x Reader)

YOU & I (Prequel to The One)

High School/Military! Frankie Morales x High School/College! Reader

Summary:  In 1996, your a Freshman in high school. It’s your first day and a long time friend, Frankie helps you throughout your day. 

Warning: 3 year age gap **Frankie and Reader do not date in high school** swearing 

Words: 3,318

Author Note: A prequel for The One! I thought it would be cute to write what Frankie and Reader relationship was like when they were younger, how they started developing feelings for each other and the young stupid drama they got themselves into. I hope you like it. Enjoy - K

CHAPTER ONE

HIGH SCHOOL 1997

“Alright, say ‘cheese’!” Your mother says holding up a camera, snapping photos of you. It was your first day of high school. You were already mortified as it was. You had no intention of looking back at this moment later in life.

“Mom, enough already!” you groaned standing in front of the front door, covering your face.

“Sweetheart, it’s your first day of high school! You’ll only have this moment once! And you look so cute!” She says admiring your outfit. You wore a white shirt and a floral slip dress over top and converse, a scrunchie in your hair securing your half up half down hairstyle.

“It’s not something I'm gonna want to remember!” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that! Just one more!” she says looking in the viewfinder.

“Mom” you groaned.

Before she could take one last photo, a car pulled up in front of your house, honking its horn.

“Come on freshie, we’re gonna be late!” Your cousin Santiago says standing up out of his blue Jeep Wrangler. You were saved.

“Gotta go, Mom, bye!” You said quickly rushing towards the Jeep.

“You guys be careful and have a nice first day!” She called from the porch.

“We will Auntie!” Santiago says plopping himself back down in his seat.

You open the door hoping inside, placing your Jansport's backpack down by your feet.

“Wait! Let me take a picture!” She shouts.

“Oh my god, please go! Driveaway! She's been taking pictures all morning!” You tell him and you sink in the passenger seat in embarrassment.

“Mom, please! We gotta go! I’ll see you later!” You shouted as Santi pulled out of there.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he drove down the street.

“She’s so embarrassing!” You groan.

“Come on, she means well and besides this is a big day for you, you're starting high school!” He nudges you.

“You’re the one to talk to, it’s your senior year!”

“Nothing I haven't done before, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t know...a little nervous I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it, High school is just like middle school except it's bigger, everyone's older and things are harder.”

“Gee, that sure washes my anxiety away.” you roll your eyes.

“Seriously, you’ll be fine and beside you’ll have me and Frankie around”

Franciso Morales was your cousin's best friend since elementary school. They’re three years older than you. You had first met Frankie when you were seven. Santiago hated when you tagged along with him and Frankie, but Frankie never seemed to mind. He always made sure to include and invite you in everything they did. The three of you have always been close, but the bond between you and Frankie was different. Frankie has always had a soft spot for you.

Santiago and Frankie still hung out with you when they were in middle school, but once they started high school and you entered middle school, you hardly saw them. They were too cool to hang out with you, who was stuck in the awkward phase of still being a kid and but on the verge of being a teenager.

For the first time in what seems like forever, your guys' lives will align once again. You weren’t gonna lie, it kinda hurt that they stopped hanging out with you all the time, but maybe since you’re starting high school, they’ll no longer treat you as a kid and they’ll start seeing you as mature.

You had no idea when the last time you saw Frankie. You hadn’t seen him all summer since he was working a summer job lifeguarding at a pool.

“Alright, Welcome Navarro...Here’s to the next 4 years in hell” Santiago laughs and he turns into school.

You noticed everyone was hanging outside in front of the school. Students sat or stood in the walkway, the font steps, or on the lawn.

Santiago weaved his way through the parking lot, waving and greeting people he drove by. He parked his car into his Senior parking stall and hopped out. You grabbed your schedule out of your bag and out of the car.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. You walked towards the back of his car staring at your school. The nerves were kicking in. You just wanted today to be easy sailing.

You looked down at your schedule.

First Period | McIntyre, Molly | Ceramics | Building G RM: 209

“Hey Santiago, can you show me where the G building is?” You say as you scan over your schedule.

“Santi?” You look beside you. He was gone. You glance towards the school, noticing he had already made his way through the parking lot, and over to a group of guys hanging around by the entrance, and they head inside. Most likely his friends and teammates from the swim team.

You sigh and roll your eyes. Guess you’ll be figuring things out on your own. You trek through the parking lot and make your way down the walkway leading to the entrance of your school.

As you walk down the hallway you notice the hustle and bustle. Santiago wasn’t lying when he said high school was bigger. Students standing around by their lockers catching up with friends jocks loudly parading around, asserting their dominance in the halls, and students trying to get where they needed to be like you.

The bell rings, and the hall quickly floods with students headed in every direction. You had people bumping into your shoulders and pushing from behind to move. You had no idea where you were supposed to go, and you only had 5 minutes to get there.

The hallway slowly started to clear up as everyone went into the classroom. You needed someone to give you directions and spotted the Janitor pushing his cart.

“Excuse me!” you said to walk up to him. “Hi sorry to bother you, but I’m lost. Could you tell me where the G building is?”

“Yeah, you go down this hall, take a left. It will lead you outside of the main building. When you get outside there should be a very colorful building with a bunch of art displays, that's where you're headed.”

“Thank you!” The bell rang. Oh, shoot.

“Yeah, no problem! You better get going now!”

You give the janitor another thank you and wave, and quickly speed walk in the path he gave you.

When you make it outside, you spot the colorful building with the art displays and fixtures outside. You made your way inside and headed to the second floor.

“207...208...209,” you said as you reached your room.

You open the door walking inside. Students were all seated at one of the five long rectangular tables in the middle of the classroom, everyone was staring at you, even the teacher. You wish the floor would swallow you up.

“And you are?” Mrs. McIntyre asked.

You give her your full name.

“Well...I don’t like tardiness, so next time get to class on time yeah? I’ll let you off with a warning. You can take a seat.”

You heard some snickering in class as you made your way over to an empty spot at one of the tables.

“Alright Class, I want you to find a partner from another table, and I want you to discuss what you did over the summer and create a drawing using the paper and material in front of you. You have the entire class period.” Mrs. McIntyre instructs.

With that, everyone got up and moved around, gravitating towards the people they already knew or people they have never met. Everyone from your table had left. You grabbed the poster paper, and a pencil. You frowned as you noticed everyone had already gotten their partners.

“Come on, where is the gorgeous smile I love so much?” You look over to someone walking toward you. They wore white shirts, jeans, sneakers, and their navy blue letterman jacket, a bag slung over their shoulder. Their hair was short but shaggy and they had a giddy smile plastered on their face.

Your face lit up seeing him. “Frankie!”

“Hey Smiles”. Smiles was his nickname for you when you were kids because you always managed to have a smile on your face even through tough times. Only he and Santiago were allowed to call you that.

“Do you have a partner? He asked.  

“No”

“Okay good” he tosses his bag on the ground, pulls out the chair, and turns slightly toward you as he sits beside you. He pulls you into a hug. You loved Frankies hugs. They were always so warm and loving.

“Ugh, look at you, a Freshie now” he was pulling away, rustling your hair.

“Hey, quit it!” You say swatting away his hand.

“How’ve you been Smiles? Excited, you're starting high school?”

“Been good. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know anyone though. All my friends went to Western, which sucks”

“I’m sure you’ll make new friends fast. You’re a likable person...” He smiles.

“How was your summer?” you ask to pick up the pencil and begin doodling on the poster paper.

He picks up a pencil and starts to draw as well. “Busy. I spent the whole summer yelling at kids and saving them from drowning in the deep end. They all think they can survive the diving board.”

“Must have been stressful.”

“Yeah it was, how about you? How was your summer?” He grabbed some colored pencils, adding color to his drawing.

“It was okay. I didn’t do anything exciting. I hung out with my friends and third wheeled with Santiago and his summer fling” you rolled his eyes.

“Oh god,” he started to laugh.

“Yeah...They made out the whole time no matter where we went. The only reason why I tagged along was because my aunt forced him to invite me to places and you know how he gets when I bud along on things…”

“I’m sorry. If I wasn’t so busy with work, I would have come along to keep you company.”

“It’s whatever. I ended up leaving them to doing my own thing while they...did whatever”

“Santiago man..” he shakes his head

“Tell me about it” you laugh

…

Frankie and you continued to draw and catch up the whole class period. You hadn’t realized how fast time went by until the bell rang.

“Alright, class write your names on the back of your paper and turn in whatever you have”

Frankie started collecting the materials, putting them back in their designated area on the table while you quickly wrote your names on the back.

You pick up your bag off the floor and slip your arms through the strap. You walk up to the front, handing in your poster Frankie follows you out into the hallways.

“Alright, what class do you have now?” He says. He takes your schedule from your hands and looks it over.

The two of you begin through the hallway and down the stairs.

“English with Mr. Hastings is the main building, A, second floor. He’s an ass and his class is pretty hard. You have to read a whole bunch of novels and write papers...” He continues to look over your schedule.

You both made it outside of G building. “Okay, you got Ms. Omura for science in C in the building right here. She’s cool. If you really wanna be her favorite, bring her chocolate...Coach Davis for PE, his class is in the gym. Mentally prepare yourself because you’re gonna be doing a lot of running. Mr. Fox for History in the main building. His class is super boring but easy. You just watch old films and documentaries and he sleeps through the whole class. Oh, and you’re taking French with Madame Keller. She’s in the N building, but I don't know what she's like. I'm in my fourth year Spanish.”

“You‘ve been taking Spanish for the last four years? You already speak Spanish. You’re bilingual.”

“Yeah, it’s an easy class for me then. Straight A’s baby” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for your help Frankie”

“Yeah don’t sweat it. Alright, I gotta head across campus, I’ll catch you later alright!”

“Bye” you give him a small smile and wave.

…

It was lunchtime. You were holding the tray in your hand, looking around in the loud and crowded lunchroom. You had no idea where to sit. Everyone had their clique. You noticed Santiago and Frankie were sitting with their friends.

You and Frankie make eye contact. He smiles at you, motioning with his head for you to come and sit with them. Your eyes widen, shaking your head no.

Frankie furrows his eyebrows, and tilts his head again, motioning for you to come. You sigh walking over.

“H-Hi '' you said standing in front of their table. All their eyes were on you. Some of the guys had confused or surprised looks. They were wondering who you were and why a freshman was at their table. Your heart pounded against your chest. This was a bad idea.

“Smiles, come sit by me-“ Frankie sat at the edge, but slid over on the bench so you had a place to sit.

“Frankie” Santiago says sounding annoyed, looking at him like he was crazy. You know he didn’t want you sitting with him and the guys.

“Come on, Santi it's their first day-”

“No” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s okay!” You quickly said. “I just wanted to say hi, I’ll see you guys later”. You rush away embarrassed and walk away to a nearby empty table.

You heard a bit of a commotion and protest from the guys. You look up to see leaving the table and walking towards you. Frankie sets his lunch tray down on the table, dropping his bag on the ground, and sits across from you. He picks up his sandwich to eat the rest.

“What are you doing?” You asked. You weren’t expecting me to come to sit with you.

He was just about to take a bite, his mouth gaped open “Uh... I’m about to eat my lunch” he says before chomping down into his food.

“I mean like... why are you sitting with me?”

“Am I not allowed to sit with you?” His mouth was full.

“No it’s just- shouldn’t you be sitting with Santiago and your friends?”

He swallows the bits he was chewing and sets his half-eaten sandwich down on his plate, picking up his milk “What? Are you embarrassed by being seen with me or something?” he says teasingly.

“The other way around actually. Shouldn’t you be embarrassed?”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because you're a Senior eating lunch with a Freshman? Santiago clearly didn’t want me to sit with you guys. Look around, everyone’s staring”

He looks around the cafeteria. You were right, people were staring, even some of the swim team guys. He rolled his eyes. He could care less what people thought.

“Let them stare. I don’t care and besides, you're my friend. I’ve known you since we were kids. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Never have, never will be. Santiago is a dick though. I’m sorry he’s being an asshat”

“You and Santi got your own thing going on and I get that-”

“But it doesn't make it right he did that” Frankie rolls his eyes. “He’s always excluded you from everything”

“I know he loves me though, even if he leaves me in the dust. Seriously I’m used to it, it's fine” you chuckle showing Frankie that you weren’t mad. It was just the way Santiago was with you. He did love you and was protective over you, but he needed his space at times. Your relationship with him, was more like your older brother than he is your cousin.

“...Thanks for sitting with me”

“Well the least you can do is give me your cookie” he took the cookie off your plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Hey! I was going to eat that you jerk!”

…

“I can’t take you home,” Santi tells you as the two of you stood outside of school, students weave their way around you as they headed off-campus.

“You're kidding…” you looked at him annoyed. You knew Santi needed space, you understood that, but this has gone too far.

“Look I know I promised I’d take you to and from school this whole year, but I got a date with Jennifer Ortega-” He motions to the girl standing a few feet away, she waves a Santiago, and he waves back.

“Santi, it's the first day of school, how the hell do you already have a date?”

“Worked her with my game... charm and charisma…” he smirks

“Gag me... so you're going to ditch me, and take her out”

“Well, you put it like that-”

“I seriously hate you”

“Thank you! I love you! I'll make it up to you, I promise” he grabs Jennifer's hand, rushing towards his jeep. You rolled your eyes. He could have just dropped you off at home, then went out with Jeniffer.

You headed off-campus and walked on the sidewalk, taking the path that was in the direction of your house.

You walked for a good 10 minutes. You were hating Santiago right now. Your blood was boiling. You were plotting your revenge on him when a shiny red pickup truck pulled over.

“Smiles!”

“Frankie!” You signed in relief, walking over to the window.

“Get in!”

You opened the truck door, sliding onto the truth bench. You were dripping wet.

“You’ve been a lifesaver all day, I swear” you whimper.

“Where the hell is Santi? Wasn’t he supposed to take you home?”

“Asshole fucking ditched me! He had a date! How the hell gets a date on the first day of school?!” you snapped.

Frankie veres back onto the street heading down the road.

“If he does that again, or whenever you need a ride, I’ll take you home”

“Thanks” you slump in the

“I’ll talk to him”

“Frankie, you’ve been doing that for years,-”

“Just let me deal with him okay”

“Okay, if that makes you feel better, then go right ahead”

Frankie pulls in your neighborhood. He drove several roads and made a few turns, then pulled into the driveway of your house.

“I hope your first day wasn’t too bad,” he says, parking the car.

“It wasn’t and I have you to thank for that...You helped me out a lot today. I'm glad I know I can always count on you.” you give him a small smile. “I’ll see you later Frankie”

“Bye Smiles”

With that you hop out of his truck, shutting the door. He backs out of the driveway, honking before leaving.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. You turned around, finding her standing in the doorway.

“Frankie Morales...Santiago had something to do, he gave me a ride home”

“My gosh, he’s so cute don’t you think?”

“Mom” you groaned.

“I always liked him. He’s such a sweet boy and always sweet with you...” She smiled. “And I know you’ve always had a little crush on him”

“No! I’ve never had a crush like Frankie Morales!”

“Why are you being so defensive about it?” She cocked her eyebrows at you. “Honey there’s no shame-”

“Mom, just let it go! I don’t like him”

“You may think you don’t like him, but deep down you know you do sweetheart.” She leaves you standing outside alone, heading back into the house.

You watch Frankie's car drive down the road until he disappears around the corner.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your mother was right. You did have a crush on Frankie. You started developing a crush on him in middle school. It was a little harmless crush and it didn’t mean anything… or so you thought.

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso@greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301​  @alberta-sunrise@spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.17|Brittana

A/N - And that's a wrap! Thank you for being patient and loving this story enough to leave reviews and even create awesome artwork and gifsets. It's been quite the journey (and ngl I'm kinda glad it's over). I know many of you would love to see this continue, but I've struggled massively just trying to find a satisfying conclusion. I hope this chapter did just that. Maybe I'll do random one-shots in the future, who knows. 

Thanks for sticking with me & I'll see you around!💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

By the time Santana returns to the sidelines where the rest of the Cheerios are gathered, she finds Quinn waiting for her there with this proud look on her face. Knowing Quinn and how long she has been rooting for her and Brittany to finally get together, Santana already has an idea of what she’s about to say.

“I saw that,” Quinn comments slyly.

Santana fights the blush blooming, but it’s hard when she feels like everyone in the entire stadium is looking at her – especially after that kiss.

She really couldn’t help it though.

Similarly to the way she reacted when Brittany suffered that serious hit, Santana was drawn to the girl. Her feet were moving well before her head registered where she was going and this time was no different, but a flash of a camera brings her back down to Earth.

“Yeah, you aren’t the only one,” Santana quips in attempt to mask that uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It’s an unnerving feeling, but there’s no way she’d ever want to take back her actions. Hell, she should’ve kissed Brittany when she asked her to but she was still trying to appease everyone for some reason – she was still trying to play by their rules.

But there’s this odd feeling beneath the surface – a feeling of empowerment, like the bonds have broken and she’s finally been set free.

That was the last time she’ll be playing by their rules, because now she has seen what a kiss like that can do. It doesn’t matter who is watching because the way Brittany lit up, the way it made Santana feel to be just like everyone else celebrating on that field, to share a kiss with someone she loves – she loves – for once: it was magic.

She won’t take it back and she isn’t going to apologize for doing it either.

At some point she has to get used to the idea that people will stare and sometimes they won’t, she just can’t let it phase her because there’s no way she can regress from this. She has to be unapologetically herself and that’s hard, but it’s better than trying to be someone else. She owes it to herself to keep pushing her own boundaries and she owes to Brittany to be brave.

“Way to rock the boat,” Quinn jokes as she gathers her things and stuffs it into her duffle bag, “I’ve never seen someone look so happy. I couldn’t tell if she was more excited about the win or you.”  

Santana relaxes a little and says, “I told her.”

“Told her what?” Quinn quirks a brow but then she connects the dots on her own and her eyes widen, “Wait, you told her? Like you – “

Suddenly Santana can’t stop the smile from forming at the memory, “Yes.”

Apparently, neither can Quinn. She just pulls Santana in for a hug.

Santana laughs at how tightly Quinn’s holding on, “What’s this for?”

“I was going to tease the hell out of you but I’m just so proud,” Quinn replies, “You’ve really come such a long way. It’s about goddamn time!”

“Thanks,” Santana replies and for some odd reason she actually feels a little choked up as Quinn pulls away. She swallows back whatever that is and adds, “I didn’t even plan on telling her until I was saying it. It just felt right though, I said it and then wondered why it took me so long to tell her in the first place.”

“You’re always a little late to the party,” Quinn teases and Santana swats her arm for that. Quinn only laughs, “What? It’s true!”

Santana snorts, “Well, my dad’s probably losing his shit right about now.”

“That would explain why he’s not with your mom,” Quinn comments with a nod over Santana’s shoulder.

They both look over to where Santana’s mom is speaking with Whitney and Pete. From where Santana’s standing, the conversation between the families looks like it’s going pretty well. She wouldn’t expect anything less, especially if her dad isn’t involved. She knows after the stunt she pulled, he’ll have something to say which is why he probably left – so they can deal with this privately.  

“Great,” Santana grumbles, “Just what I need.”

“Your mom’s still here so that’s a plus. Right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Quinn lets out a tired sigh and Santana does the same.

Instead of making a move, Santana glances back over to Brittany. She can see the blonde talking excitedly with the recruiter from Ohio State and Santana swells with pride. After a great game like that, she’s hoping that guy is offering Brittany everything she wants and then some.

If anyone deserves it, it’s Brittany.

“You want me to go with you?” Quinn offers and nods in the direction of Santana and Brittany’s families, “They’re calling you over.”

Santana takes a deep breath, “That’s okay. I’ll go.”

“Okay,” Quinn gives her an encouraging smile, “I’ll see you at Puck’s?”

“Hopefully,” Santana nods before slinging on her duffle and joining her mom.

\\

“Hi Mrs. Pierce,” Santana greets politely before smiling down at Brittany’s brother, “Hey Petey

“What an amazing performance,” Whitney compliments her.

Santana smiles bashfully, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize this school had so many talented teams!” Whitney says.

“Oh no, it’s just been the Cheerios for years,” Santana replies with a chuckle, “The Titans actually being good is all thanks to Brittany.”

Whitney gives her a knowing smile before Pete excitedly interrupts.

“Santana!” He shrieks, “I didn’t know you could fly! It was so cool!”

Santana gives him a curious look before he goes on and on about how awesome Santana was during the Cheerios half time performance.

“Oh, you mean when they threw me in the air?” Santana clarifies. Pete nods with a toothy grin and it makes Santana laugh, “That was more like falling with style.”

Pete’s draw drops, “Like Buzz Lightyear?”

Santana smirks, “Exactly.”

Pete matches her expression, “Super cool.”

She knows he’s only a kid but the praise makes her feel pretty good about herself and the proud smiles Whitney and Maribel wear only add to that feeling.

If only her dad was there to offer some type of praise of his own.

“So where’s Papi?” Santana asks Maribel.

She instantly feels the vibe change at his mention. Whitney must feel it too and starts to look for an out of the conversation.

“Well, we better go see Brittany,” She says, “I think she might be finished with that recruiter now.”

“Let’s go!” Pete tugs on Whitney’s sleeve, “Bye Santana! Bye Miss Maribel!”

Maribel chuckles as she joins Santana in waving goodbye to them. Her expression falters just a little as she turns back to Santana, “Your dad had to leave right away. There was some paperwork that he needed to – “

“It’s okay,” Santana interrupts, “You don’t need to make up an excuse for him. I know he’s angry with me for causing another scene or whatever.”

Maribel sighs, “It’s not that, mija.”

“No? Then what is it?”

Maribel gives her daughter that look that says watch that attitude. Santana softens but still crosses her arms over her chest. Honestly, she doesn’t know why she expected anything different from her dad. Of course he’d react so dramatically and of course she’d be left in the wake of it all feeling like absolute shit.

“How many times did I say talk to him?” Maribel asks, “How many times did I say the sooner the better? How do you think he’d react when he found out you have been keeping things from him? You’ve harbored them until they’ve built up and now there’s a mountain where there used to be a molehill.”

Santana scuffs her tennis shoe at the turf. She can feel that empowered feeling from earlier fleeting but instead of feeling sorry for herself, she laughs bitterly.

“What?” She huffs, “He’s mad because I didn’t tell him about me and Brittany?”

“No mija,” Maribel sighs, “He’s hurt.”

Santana’s eyes widen at that, “He’s… How? He hasn’t exactly been too keen to know about my love life so why would I bother now?”

“Santana, it’s more than that. Like I have been telling you all this time,” Maribel replies, “You need to talk to him.”

Santana sucks in an aggravated deep breath, “Why does this fall on me?”

Maribel softens, “This is your life, mija, what you have to say needs to come from you if you want things to change.”

Santana frowns at that, but Maribel continues.

“He’s still your dad and you might not think so but he wants to be included in your life. He just doesn’t know how to do that anymore,” Maribel adds, “You’ve both been butting heads for so long that neither of you know how to act around each other.”

Santana grits her teeth and looks away, but Maribel reaches for her.

“At some point, a parent realizes that they might not know all the answers. You have to teach him, Santana,” Maribel explains, “You have to give him a chance to get to know the real you and not the person you think he wants you to be. You have to give him the same opportunity that you’ve given me otherwise this is what your relationship will be: you both hurting each other without ever speaking about it.”

Santana relaxes because her mom makes a good point. There’s just so much to work through and Santana’s scared that if she does give him a chance then he’ll only hurt her all over again. But a little part of her thinks about Brittany and what wise words she’d have for her.

“You have to at least try, right?”

Santana sighs because even when she isn’t there, Brittany’s always like her guiding light, her beacon of hope, her rock.

“Okay,” Santana finally says, “I’ll talk to him.”

Maribel smiles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders and kisses her temple, “It’ll be fine.”

Santana only nods, hoping that she’s right.

\\

When Santana and Maribel return home, Santana skips changing out of her uniform in favor of going straight to her dad. She figures her uniform has always felt like armor so it only makes sense that she continues to wear it now when she feels the most vulnerable.

As she knocks at Hector’s office door and is called in, she feels like she’s about to see Principal Figgins – except this is much worse. Hector is at his desk and his brows are pushed together in hard concentration as reads the computer screen in front of him.

That stops when Santana takes a seat in the arm chair by the book shelf. It’s the farthest she can be from her dad and it’s also the closest seat to the door incase she needs to make a run for it.

Ridiculous, but necessary – maybe. She has hope, but it has been misplaced before.

Hector turns off the computer screen but is slow to make eye contact with Santana. It’s nothing new to her though and they plummet into a heavy silence. She tries to put on a brave face like always, but she doesn’t think this time will be like the others.

It can’t be like the others. Something has to give.

She sits there in the leather arm chair feeling the smallest she’s ever felt because above her are framed diplomas from Harvard in these ornate frames and they stare down at her like they know every one of her dirty little secrets.

It makes her want to run and hide.

It makes her want to abandon this whole idea, but the beginning of the truth has reared its ugly head and there’s no turning back now – she can do nothing but face the inevitable.

In a sudden burst of confidence or courage or stupidity, Santana finally rips the band aid off and says what comes to mind first, addressing the biggest elephant in the room.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

The words leave her lips for a second time and it’s a relief to say them again – especially to her dad – but now she feels suspended in midair like she’s waiting to either be caught or slam to the ground.

When Hector doesn’t say anything it makes the wait feel even worse.

He just sits there with his eyes focused on his desk, unmoving and unreadable. It’s like Santana’s looking in a mirror and it’s enough to push her to be different, to be better, to learn from his missteps so she doesn’t fall into the same cycle. She feels the familiar need to apologize worming its way up, but she swallows it back because what does she have to be sorry for? She’s finally being honest for once, why would she try to hide that?

Hector shifts in his seat and utters his first words, “Since when?”

Santana threads her fingers together in her lap and shrugs, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go there.”

“But, we’ve talked about this for so long?” Hector replies looking shocked, “Harvard is your dream school.”

Santana shakes her head, “We’ve never talked about it. You and Abuelo just assumed that’s where I would go and you planned accordingly. I guess it’s also on me though, because I didn’t want to let either of you down. I didn’t want to be the one to break tradition, but Harvard…it isn’t my dream school.”

“Oh,” Hector breathes out and it’s the most dejected sound Santana’s ever heard.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” Santana mumbles.

Hector continues to try and piece things together, “Can I ask what changed?”

Santana has thought about the answer to this particular question for so long and she has yet to come up with anything straight forward. It’s more like a feeling that she can’t really explain and she doubts her dad would understand that.

Her dad is someone who doesn’t deviate from tradition, like ever. Hector does what is expected of him and follows every social cue on the planet, never being one to rock the boat. For awhile, Santana was like that too but then everything with Bree and Dani happened – she couldn’t really follow the status quo anymore.

As much as she hated that time of her life, if it didn’t happen where would she be today? Still in the closet? Still trying to pretend to be someone she isn’t? She can’t keep living her life by trying to please everyone else, it just makes her feel miserable.

“I just…I don’t think it’s the place for me,” Santana answers instead.

“But you,” Hector pauses to knead his forehead, “This doesn’t make any sense. Do you even want to be a doctor anymore?”

Santana sighs, “Of course I do. I still want to help people, I just don’t want to follow your exact footsteps. I want to go my own way.”

Hector nods like everything’s starting to sink in, “You’ve never been interested in going anywhere else. You can understand why this is a shock to me.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I had a choice,” Santana replies, “Especially after everything that happened last year. I just wanted to make you proud of me again, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. I might as well do things for me now.”

“Wait,” Hector finally looks to Santana, “You don’t think I’m proud of you?”

Santana shrugs, but she finally sees the hurt look in his eyes and it confuses her.

“Santana, that’s…,” Hector shakes his head, “That’s not true.”

Santana lets out a dry chuckle, “Let’s be honest, you haven’t been proud of me since Bree and JBI posted that stupid video. Since then, you can barely be in the same room as me.”

Hector doesn’t say a word, just listens.

“It was never my intention to ruin everything,” Santana admits and she starts to feel that familiar lump form in her throat but there’s no stopping the truth from escaping now, “I’ve tried so hard for so long to be the perfect daughter, but I’m tired of spinning my wheels for nothing. I make good grades, I’m Co-Captain of the Cheerios and I stay out of trouble…most of the time. I think that’s pretty good considering I was outed to the whole damn town. Everywhere I went, there was always someone commenting on my life. There was also someone staring at me, someone whispering about how sinful my behavior was. Aside from Quinn, I was completely alone for so long. I could’ve gone batshit crazy but I didn’t. I put my head down and tried to do everything I could to be someone you were proud of, to get back into your good graces.”

Hector continues to listen silently, but his lack of response puts Santana on edge.

“Clearly, I haven’t been done a very good job,” Santana huffs in attempt to mask her hurt, “I’ve hated how we’ve grown apart this past year, but I shouldn’t be the only one trying to fix things. Especially since I’ve been bending over backwards to redeem myself for what happened. You shunned me and yet I was still trying to please you. I’m not doing that anymore – I can’t go back to the way things were before, I just can’t.”

Hector clears his throat and asks, “Before what?”

“God, before I told you that I’m gay!” Santana responds. She surprises herself by how confidently she said those words so much so that she says them again, “I’m gay, Papi, and I’m tired of it being another thing that we don’t talk about. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. I’m tired of trying to make all this progress then come home to you taking it all away. I’m tired of you making me feel so inadequate.”

Hector’s shoulder drop as he slumps back in his chair like Santana just dealt him the hardest hit.

“I don’t expect you to go waving around a rainbow flag or offer to take me to my first Pride festival but you’re going to have to acknowledge it because that’s a part of who I am,” Santana continues, “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep doing things to please everyone else. This is me and I’m not going to apologize for it.”

She doesn’t realize she has said nearly the exact same words she once did to her Abuela before she was shut out and it makes her heart clench painfully. She had felt so small in her Abuela’s kitchen when she uttered those words last time, but now? This is her standing up for herself, this is her taking back her life and her dad can either support her or step aside.

“I’m gay, Papi,” Santana says with a sort of finality, “And I have this amazing girlfriend that I love who just wants me to be me. You know how long I’ve waited for someone like that, someone who just…accepts me?” Santana bats away her tears, “I thought I’d have to leave this shitty town just to finally feel like myself but Brittany made me realize that I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to bend for anyone.”

Santana she feels like a bottle rocket about to set flight after finally laying it all out there like that, but she takes a calming breath and speaks directly from her heart.

“I’m gay and I’m not going to Harvard,” Santana says with confidence, “You either learn to accept that so we can all move on or you stay stuck like this – like Abuela – and we just won’t have a relationship anymore.”

Hector tenses his jaw at that and he actually looks a little hurt, but Santana has been hurt too by his words and lack thereof. She’s not going to tip toe anymore, she’s going to say how she feels when she feels it starting right now.

“Is that what you want?” Santana presses with tears streaming down her face, “Because I don’t. I don’t want to lose my dad because of a stupid legacy or something beyond my control. You think I wanted to be gay? You think I wanted to make my life harder than it already has been?”

“Santana stop,” Hector finally speaks, his voice soft yet unwavering. Santana’s chest heaves and her eyes blur with more tears as Hectors adds, “That’s not my intention either. You aren’t going to lose me and I don’t want lose you.”

Santana tries to calm herself down by taking slow inhales and it makes Hector look to his daughter guiltily. Her thoughts are a scattered mess but despite being scared as hell it feels pretty good to get these things off of her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” He says. His lips part but the words struggle to form. It almost looks like he’s tearing up too which Santana has rarely seen.

“I’m trying – I’m trying to find the right words to say,” He admits, “I grew up very differently than you so these kind of conversations don’t come easy for me. Your Abuelo and Abuela weren’t easy to talk to as you can imagine. We didn’t speak about our feelings or what hurts us. We just put our heads down and ignored them until we thought they went away.”

“Well my feelings aren’t going to be ignored,” Santana says firmly.

“I know,” Hector reasons, “I know. I just want you to know where I’m coming from too. I would never go against your Abuela or Abuelo like this. I’d fall in line because that’s what I’ve always known, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never disagreed with them. I have, but I’m not brave like you – I never spoke up.”

Santana nods as she bats away her tears.

“You know I’m old school. The importance of family and reputation were ingrained in me a long time ago – same as keeping your opinions and feelings to yourself – and I’ve continued that with you when I shouldn’t have. I could see that it was wrong but I did nothing to stop it because of that I have rarely done things for me,” Hector adds, “But you aren’t like that. You have your own voice and – unlike me – you actually use it.”

Not as often as I’d like to, Santana thinks.

“To be honest,” Hector says, “That’s something I admire the most about you.”

Santana looks confused, “Really?”

“Of course,” Hector nods, “You’re doing something I’ve never had the courage to do growing up. I should’ve done a better job encouraging it, even if we don’t always agree.”

Santana blinks away her tears, “That’s just…not the impression I’ve gotten. You’ve been so distant and pushing Harvard on me for so long and then what you said to Brittany about having options? That has never been a thing for me, my future has always felt like it has been planned without my input.”

“Because I thought Harvard was what you wanted,” Hector replies, “You never said anything otherwise so I just assumed you had your heart set on that school. I love you, Santana, and I’ve always wanted what was best for you. If you wanted Harvard, I’d do everything I can to get you there – even if that means giving you some tough love.”

Santana just shakes her head, “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been approachable,” Hector responds earnestly, “I’m sorry for making you think that I’m not proud of you or that I don’t support you because I do. I’m just not very good at showing it. You being gay, sure it caught me by surprise but I’m not like your Abuela. It’s new to me and I don’t know the right things to say most of the time but I do want to learn. I would never love you any less because of it.”

Tears stream freely down Santana’s cheeks and Hector quickly closes the distance between them. He wipes away Santana’s tears with his thumbs and holds her face gently in his hands as he continues to speak.

“You are still my girl, Santana, no matter who you love or what college you want to go to,” Hector says through a smile, “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

Santana can’t help but throw herself into her dad’s arms. She’s tried to be tough, tried to have this hard exterior and pretend that their rocky relationship didn’t phase her too much, but it did. To finally be able to hug him again, to have this kind of reassurance means everything to her.

Hector holds her tightly; it’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly a year.  

“I want to be included in your life. To see you out there after the game tonight with Brittany, you both looking so happy, it made me feel like I was missing something. You know?” Hector sighs as he pulls away. He sits back on his knees and stares at the young woman Santana’s becoming, “I’ve never seen you that happy with any of the boys you’ve brought home and I started to understand a little more but it hurt at the same time. It hurt because I had to learn of your relationship rather than you feeling comfortable enough to tell me on your own. I don’t want it to be like that, I don’t want to miss anything.”

Santana nods, feeling similarly. She just wants their relationship to be as close as it was before. Actually, no. She wants it to be better and she thinks after a conversation like this that maybe that’s a possibility. Maybe they can actually grow from this?

“I don’t want our relationship to be like mine and your Abuelo’s was. I want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s on your mind,” Hector says softly as he brushes through Santana’s hair with his hand, “You and I…we’re a lot alike when it comes to this talking stuff. You’re a lot better at it than I am, so I’m going to need your help.”

“Okay,” Santana mumbles through her smile. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Hector agrees before going to take a steadying breath. He chuckles to himself as he rises from the hardwood floors and takes a seat on the foot rest next to Santana.

There’s a change in the air and Santana’s so grateful for it. There’s a familiar warmth again that has been missing and suddenly the walls don’t feel like they’re closing in on her. The office doesn’t feel so cold and uninviting, because Hector is there softly smiling at her.

“What?” Santana wonders with a nervous laugh.

Hectors shakes his head and shrugs, “I want to know so much but I don’t know where to begin. I have a lot to catch up on I think.”

Santana nods. She can faintly hear her mom’s voice in her head reminding her to give Hector the same opportunities she gave Maribel in regards to inviting him in to get to know the real her.

So she tries it out and asks, “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Hector scratches at his stubbled chin in thought, “I guess if Harvard’s out, where are you thinking now? College is still a must in this family after all.”

Santana catches him wink and she knows that this is meant to be a less serious conversation than the one before. It’s a good feeling to know that she and Hector are on the same page now and that she doesn’t have to harbor this secret any longer – the weight has been lifted.

“I’ve been working on that,” Santana tells him, “Miss Pillsbury says I could go anywhere I want but I’m keeping my options open for now. I just want to be certain before I make my decision.”

“Smart,” Hector replies, “And I’m assuming you won’t want to follow me into dermatology?”

“Definitely not,” Santana scrunches her nose and it makes Hector laugh, “I’ve actually been doing some research on Sports Medicine programs. With my background with the Cheerios and being so close to all kinds of games, I kind of like still being apart of the action on the sidelines…just in a different uniform.”

“As long as you’re sticking to medical I’m happy,” Hector jokes before asking, “And what about Brittany? Has she decided where she will go yet?”

Santana relaxes more, loving how easily they’re able to talk now, “She was speaking to a recruiter from Ohio State after the game tonight, but with her talent she could go anywhere too.”

“That sounds promising,” Hector replies, “She is very talented and what a great game! I’m sure that recruiter was very impressed with her.”

“Yeah,” Santana swells with pride, “She was amazing out there.”

“Speaking of,” Hector starts to smirk, “You said love before, that’s pretty big.”

Santana feels her heart skip a beat as she looks up at her dad, “It’s a relatively new thing.”

“Is it?” Hector asks, “I could sort of suspect something was going on with how protective you were being when she had lunch with us awhile back, but I wasn’t certain. You sometimes act the same way with Quinn so I didn’t want to assume.”

Santana blushes, “I didn’t realize I did that.”

“You’re a Lopez,” Hector says proudly, “We’re protective of who we love.”

“Oh,” Santana starts to blush, “I’ve never met anyone like her before. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. When I’m with Brittany I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I just hope she feels the same way.”

“You’re not sure?” Hector asks.

Santana pauses to wonder: Is she really unsure?

She has often heard the saying actions speak louder than words and if that’s true then Brittany’s speak loud and clear. She’s been patient with Santana’s journey even if she took the long way around, she challenges her when necessary but she’s never forceful. She checks Santana when she needs to be checked, but she also cares for her like no one else has.

She’s no expert, but that sounds a lot like love to her.

“I mean, think I might have an idea,” Santana says, “But it’d be nice to hear it from her.”

Hector smiles, “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

“That’s part of the reason why I want to keep my options open for now,” Santana explains, “Maybe that’s a little crazy since we haven’t been together for long, but I don’t know. I want to at least stay close. We haven’t actually talked too much about what we’ll do after graduation.”

Hector hums through his knowing smile, “You’ll figure it out together. I hear Ohio State has a pretty good Sports Medicine program. One of the best in the country, actually.”

Santana gives him a grin, “I know.”

\\

When Santana leaves Hector’s office a moment later, she’s never felt so light. It actually feels like a weight has been lifted and she’s so happy that the conversation turned out a whole lot better than the one she had with her Abuela. There’s still a lot to repair, but at least they’re on the right track now. At least there’s hope of turning the relationship around, because Santana hated the idea of going on about life without having her dad around.

After everything that happened tonight, after everyone saw her and Brittany together, at least she has one more person in her corner to support her.

\\\\\

Brittany stands in Puck’s kitchen with her back against the wall and a red solo cup in her hand. Mike and Sam talk excitedly about highlights of the game for the hundredth time, but Brittany can’t seem to focus long enough to be apart of the conversation. She just nods mindlessly and laughs when they do, but her head is elsewhere.

Anytime the front door opens, her eyes dart to it hoping that it’s Santana but it never is.

As Sam goes on to re-tell the final play of the game, Brittany fishes out her phone to check if she has any new messages. She frowns when all she sees is the time and the lock screen background of her and Santana from the Homecoming dance.

No new messages. No missed calls.

As the minutes tick by and the house gets more and more crowded, Brittany’s desire to be there dwindles. She can’t celebrate yet, not without her girl, it just doesn’t feel quite right. She recalls Santana mentioning being grounded forever when they spoke at the game and Brittany hopes that isn’t the case – especially with how they ended things.

There’s still so much she wants to say and the longer she holds it in, the more she feels like she’s going to pop like a balloon. She should’ve just said it then and there. Who cares if she makes Beiste and Cooter wait? Making sure that Santana knows she’s loved is important too.

She lets out a heavy sigh before taking a sip of her drink, but the sound grabs Mike’s attention.

He looks curiously at her and asks, “Have you tried calling?”

Brittany blinks out of her thoughts, “Huh?”

“Santana,” He clarifies knowingly, “I know that’s why you’re looking so grumpy. Have you tried calling her?”

“Oh,” Brittany stares into her cup, “No, I haven’t. She said she had something to deal with after the game so I don’t want to interrupt. I just hope she isn’t in trouble or anything.”

“Why would she be in trouble?” He asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess?”

Mike nods, “Well Quinn isn’t here yet either and they’re meant to be getting ready together. Maybe they’re just taking longer than usual?”

Brittany takes a calming breath, “Yeah, maybe.”

\\

Brittany tries to enjoy herself, or at least look a little more interested in the conversation taking place around her. If she spends the time trying to guess what’s happening with Santana, she’ll only ruin everyone else’s time with her worrying. Mike’s probably right anyway about Santana and Quinn taking a long time so there’s no use in getting worked up over it.

However, it doesn’t help that five minutes later Quinn breezes in through the door alone.

Brittany watches as the Co-Captain makes her way through the living room crowded with dancing partygoers, waving at fellow Cheerios as she goes. Her eyes dart back to the door, wondering if Santana is only a few steps behind but it remains closed.

Once Quinn makes her way over to where Brittany, Mike and Sam have been talking, she looks around confusedly.

“Is Santana here?” Quinn asks Brittany.

Brittany frowns, “No, I thought she was with you?”

Quinn shakes her head, “She wasn’t answering my texts so I got ready on my own. I thought you two might be together already.”

Brittany bites her lip, trying to keep that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at bay. She doesn’t want to read too much into everything, but she remembers the look on Hector’s face after Santana kissed her on the field. Brittany knows their history and it puts her on edge. She tries valiantly to keep the pestering questions stacking up in her head at bay but it’s hard when Santana isn’t around to explain.

“I’m sure she’s not too far behind,” Quinn adds reassuringly, “She probably has her phone on silent still. Coach makes us do that during games so no one is distracted by a notification.”

Brittany nods, but she’s still not convinced.

\\

Brittany lasts another ten minutes before she’s had enough of the waiting game. She’s putting down her cup on the counter and grabbing her discarded letterman jacket.

“Where you off to?” Mike asks.

“I’m going to check on her,” Brittany states to her friends as she shrugs it on, “Something feels off.”

“Britt, you’ve been drinking,” Sam points out.

“I’ll walk,” Brittany replies quickly, “I don’t have my car here anyway.”

“Do you want us to come?” Mike asks and Quinn nods too.  

“Let me try her again?” Quinn offers as she gets out her phone, “She does take forever to get ready though so I wouldn’t be too worried, Britt.”

Brittany nods, but she’s passed thinking this is only about how long it takes Santana to get ready. She keeps thinking back to Santana’s cryptic words at the game and it makes her feel uneasy.

If Santana’s being punished for that kiss or something ridiculous then Brittany wants to know for sure and she wants to be the one to give Santana’s dad a piece of her mind. Out of everything Santana’s gone through, he can’t take this away from her too – no one can.

“I’m just going to go to her house,” Brittany tells them, “I’ll let you know when I see her.”

She doesn’t give them much room to argue, just leaves the kitchen and heads for the front door. The living room is packed with the usual crowd and once Brittany starts to weave through them, they try pulling her onto the makeshift dancefloor. Familiar voices call out her name and Puck’s in the center of it all pumping his fist to the beat, but stops when he finds Brittany.

“Bout time, Pierce! I was wondering when you were going to tear up the dancefloor,” Puck cheers, “Where’s your drink?”

Brittany nods to the door, “I’ve got to go.”

Puck frowns, “Leaving? Already? The party’s just getting started!”

“I’ll be back,” Brittany assures him, “I’m only getting Santana.”

“Ah right,” Puck smirks before patting Brittany on the shoulder, “I mean, seeing you two after the game…if you guys ever need a third, I’m – ”

“Not interested,” Brittany says before narrowing her eyes at him.

“Woah!” Puck laughs, not really seeing that he’s crossed a line, “I didn’t even say what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Brittany states, “Don’t make a comment like that about us to me or Santana again. Next time, I won’t be so polite.”

Puck instantly backs off, “Yo, chill! I thought it was a compliment?”

“Really?” Brittany grits her teeth, “You douse yourself in cologne after practice rather than taking an actual shower. So on personal hygiene alone, I don’t think any girl would think your offer was a compliment.”

“Damn, okay! My bad!” Puck says with his pride hurt, “Don’t gotta be so mean.”

Suddenly Kurt appears next to her with Tina and Mercedes flanking him. She’s surprised to see them there, she must’ve been so caught up in worrying over Santana that she didn’t see them there on the dancefloor.

“You okay, Britt?” Kurt asks, looking between the too curiously.

Brittany only glares at Puck one last time before shifting to Kurt, “I’m good. Glad to see you guys here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kurt assures her then glances to Puck, “Especially since Puck graciously opened up the invite to everyone not just the high society.”

“So kind of him,” Mercedes comments sarcastically.

“See, Puckerman? Being a decent guy isn’t so hard,” Brittany adds and waits expectantly for a smart ass comment from Puck.

Surprisingly, Puck looks between everyone and decides he’s outnumbered. With a sigh he waves them all off, “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy yourselves.”

As he disappears back into the sea of dancers, Kurt turns to Brittany and quirks his brow.

“Surely you aren’t leaving already?” He asks, “The night is young.”

“Yeah Britt,” Tina adds, “You’ll have to dance with us!”

“At least one song,” Mercedes says.

“I will,” Brittany assures them, “I just – I’ll be right back. I need to take care of something first.”

Kurt looks a little unsure but it isn’t his place to meddle, so he just shrugs and bids Brittany a goodbye for now. Brittany gives her friends a last reassuring smile before returning to her mission of finding Santana.

\\

The mission ends up being short lived because as soon as Brittany swings open the front door she finds exactly who she’s been missing: Santana. It looks like Brittany caught her in mid-pace and there’s this surprised look on Santana’s face, but it softens when she sees who is staring back.

“Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hey Britt,” Santana replies meekly, “Sorry I’m so late.”

Although there’s a small smile playing on Santana’s lips, something feels a little off. There’s a strange heaviness in the air and Brittany isn’t sure if it’s because she has spent the last hour wondering where Santana was and now all of a sudden she’s standing in front of her. She should feel relieved, except instead it feels like she’s holding her breath – but why?

“That’s alright,” Brittany responds with a shrug, “I was only getting a tiny bit worried, but you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Santana starts to play with her fingers and that’s all the confirmation Brittany needs.

Something’s definitely up.

She closes the door behind her in hopes that it’ll muffle the loud music playing inside and give them some privacy before returning to the party. It’s such a contrast from once being surrounded by friends and music with a drink in her hand just a few minutes ago to now being alone with Santana in the eerie quiet. The only sounds are the muffled bass and the pounding of Brittany’s heart in her ears.

She doesn’t know why she feels suddenly nervous standing there, or why her palms are beginning to sweat, but she tries to shake it off. It’s only Santana, there’s nothing to be nervous about.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Brittany asks, filling the silence, “The party’s inside.”

“I know,” Santana says shyly.

Brittany takes a step closer, “Is everything okay?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. I was just trying to find the courage, I guess, to go in on my own.”

“The courage?”

Santana squeezes her hands together, “Things are changing. Well, thing’s have been changing for awhile now.”

Brittany tilts her head to the side, unsure of where this is going.

Santana softens, “You know, on my way over here JBI sent me a link of his latest episode?”

Brittany bites her lip, “He did?”

“Yeah,” Santana shifts from side to side, “I didn’t watch it, obviously, but I can probably guess what it’s about.”

Brittany looks down at the space between them. Of course someone would find a way to ruin this moment for them, of course they couldn’t just be like everyone else. She’s trying to find the right words to say or some type of solution to all of this, but Santana only lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m guessing everyone knows about us now, even if they weren’t at the game,” Santana continues, “And I’m sure there will be talks and looks because you know this damn town loves to gossip.”  

Brittany nods. Even if she wasn’t here for everything that happened to Santana last year, she feels like maybe this is history repeating itself.

“But you know what?” Santana asks.

“What?”

“I don’t think I care about what they’ll have to say,” Santana says confidently, “Actually, I know I won’t because once I go through that door it’ll mark the beginning of something new.”

“Oh,” Brittany gives Santana a hopeful smile because she wasn’t expecting that kind of answer, “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course,” Santana answers, “I know that once I go in there I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I don’t have anything to hide. I couldn’t care less about what’ll happen to my reputation because I don’t really give a damn about what these people think of me. I can’t believe how long it has taken me to realize that, but I just want to be myself for a change and have a good time with my girlfriend.”

Brittany’s breath hitches at the sound of Santana being so sure of herself. She really has come such a long way and Brittany feels so grateful to have witnessed her journey.

“But I’m still standing out here because I feel like this is a moment,” Santana adds, “I feel like it’s a big moment before everything changes and I wanted to make sure I was ready.”

Brittany silently reaches for Santana’s hand to hold as if to say I’m here for you too.

“And as much of a relief it is to be able to do that now, to be open and sure of who I am, I’m still working on it. It still takes me a second to muster the courage first,” Santana explains.

Brittany nods in understanding, still quietly listening to every word.

“Maybe in the future it won’t take as long,” Santana says, “Maybe I won’t even have to pause, it’ll just come second nature? But right here, right now, I’m not quite there yet. I still have to take a moment because…this is big.”

Brittany stares back adoringly before she’s taking a step closer until she can pull Santana in for a kiss. It’s their first one since being on the field and it’s like coming home.

“You’re so brave, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “One of the bravest I’ve ever met.”

Santana blushes, “Says you.”

“No seriously. I’ve got nothing on you,” Brittany teases before tugging Santana in for a hug. She kisses the top of Santana’s head and inhales the sweet smelling shampoo as smiles, “I’m so proud of you. It might be a big moment, but we can do this together. You and I, we’re in this together. We can stay out here for as long as you like. Whatever you want to do.”

“Thanks,” Santana grins up at her before leaning back, “How's the elbow? I see they didn’t put you in a sling.”

Brittany only shrugs as she glances to it, “It’s a little bruised but it doesn't hurt that bad. I actually forgot all about it.”

“Oh really?” Santana pokes at it lightly, “No tenderness?”

Brittany tries to stifle her groan, “Mm-mm.”

Santana smirks, “Not sure if I believe you.”

Brittany chuckles and tries to flirt, “Feel free to examine me yourself, Doc,”

“Maybe later,” Santana winks before nodding over to the bench off to the side, “Can we sit?”

Brittany nods and lets Santana lead the way. It’s only a few steps away, but once they sit they sink into each other’s sides so comfortably. Brittany doesn’t even mind the cold, not when Santana’s pressed against her – it’s like the warmest she’s ever been.

“I spoke to my dad,” Santana mentions after a pause.

“Oh?” Brittany’s brows rise, “Is that what you were talking about at the game?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. That’s why I was so late and couldn’t return your texts.”

“So,” Brittany presses, “How’d it go? I’m guessing you aren’t grounded for the rest of your life if you’re here or did you sneak out?”

Santana chuckles, “I’m not grounded, no. It went surprisingly well, I think. I finally told him about not wanting to go to Harvard.”

“And how’d he take that?”

“Fine. It was mostly all just a big miscommunication, but once we got to talking about it everything was fine,” Santana answers, “It’s kind of silly how long I put it off because I was so afraid of letting him down. I probably should've said something a lot sooner.”

Brittany nods as she cuddles Santana closer, “But its okay because you got there in the end.”

“True,” Santana smiles up at her, “We actually talked about you too.”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” Santana hums.

“What’d you say?”

Santana shrugs coyly, “Just stuff.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and it makes Santana giggle.

“Nothing bad,” Santana amends, “I promise.”

Brittany pretends to look unconvinced but she soon relents after Santana presses a kiss to her cheek. Who could stand their ground after that, especially when Santana’s cheeks are cutely bunched as she bats her long lashes.

“Alright,” Brittany laughs, “Well…I’m glad everything worked out between you and your dad. I’m sure you feel way better after telling him the truth about Harvard too.”

“Yeah,” Santana replies, “There’s still some work to be done, but we’re in a lot better place now. I think things are looking up for us now.”

“That’s so good!” Brittany beams, “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Santana sighs as she looks up at Brittany affectionately, “I don't know what I would've done without you.”

“I am pretty awesome, huh?” Brittany jokes despite her cheeks flushing from the compliment.

“Don't make me take it back,” Santana chuckles, “But seriously, I don’t see this year turning out the same way it did if you hadn’t moved here.”

“Hey, I needed you just as much as you needed me,” Brittany assures her, “This year wouldn’t have been the same without you either. With everything that happened at the beginning of the year: losing my dad, moving away from the place I’ve lived all my life, feeling like I had to start over. I needed you too. You’re something else, Santana.”

Santana only blushes before the front door is suddenly swung open and their peaceful little bubble is popped.

“There you two are!” Quinn sighs as Mike pokes his head out behind her, “So much for letting us know you found her, Britt.”

Brittany gives her an apologetic look, “Sorry. We started talking.”

Quinn looks between the two and it’s like she’s seeing something there that doesn’t need to be said. She smiles and relaxes upon what she finds.

“Well, you guys coming in or what?” She asks.

“The beer pong table is calling you, Cap,” Mike adds while Quinn rolls her eyes.

“Sam’s apparently started taking bets for this rematch between you and I,” Quinn explains and looks to Santana, “Your girl here thinks she’s the reigning Champ, Lopez, but as I recall she was dethroned last time by me.”

Santana laughs at that and looks to Brittany, “Oh really now?”

Brittany recalls how distracted she was last time – mostly Santana’s fault – and shakes her head, “The last game was a stroke of luck on your part, Fabray. It won’t be happening again.”

Quinn grins at that, “Well let’s see it then.”

Santana looks back at Brittany and whispers to her, “Is it bad that I’m weirdly turned on right now?”

Brittany’s eyes go wide at that, “Okay that isn’t going to help me stay focused, babe.”

“Did you guys find them?” Sam can be heard asking before he appears in the doorway, “Britt! You’ve got to play, the pot is huge!”

“Yo, what the hell’s going on out there?” Puck is heard next, “Why’s everyone crowding the door?”

Everyone starts to talk amongst themselves and the sound of the music is much louder now that the barrier is gone. Brittany only looks to Santana and smiles.

“I guess it’s time to join the party, huh?” Santana asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Only if you’re ready?”

There’s a short pause as they stare at each other because Brittany’s words carry a heavier meaning than the others realize. That first step into Santana’s new chapter is here and Brittany just wants to be sure that Santana has had all the time she needs to reflect.

With the way Santana starts back at Brittany, a look of resolution on her face, Brittany thinks the answer is clear.

“I am,” Santana rises and extends a hand for Brittany to take. The smile on her face starts to grow, “Let’s go in together.”

“Okay,” Brittany beams as she takes Santana’s hand.

“Alright,” Santana clears her throat as she turns to their friends, “Move it, Fabray! Puck, get me and Brittz a drink! Mike, Sam get the table ready. We’ve got a bet to settle!”

As everyone scrambles, Brittany just grins and trails after her always in awe of how Santana can command a room.

\\

The moment is short lived though once they make their way through the kitchen where several Titans have gathered to top up their cups. As if they could sense their quarterback’s presence, they all stop and turn to her.

For a second, she feels Santana tense beside her. Brittany only holds her hand tighter.

“G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T!” They begin to cheer, their collective voices are so loud it feels like it shakes the walls. They barely even notice Brittany and Santana holding hands as they keep chanting happily.

Brittany laughs while trying to quiet them down, but no one seems to listen. She’s all for celebrating, but the attention makes her feel shy – especially now that the alcohol in her systems is long gone.

“Okay guys,” Brittany tries with a chuckle, “We get it. Thank you.”

The Titans settle and give their congratulations again with pats on the shoulder and fist bumps as they disperse from the kitchen. While Sam, Mike and Quinn make their way into the other room where the beer pong tables are set up, Puck heads to the island counter where the drinks are kept.

Brittany and Santana follow, but the blonde can feel Santana’s eyes on her, curious and impressed.

“Were they calling you a goat?” Santana asks around a laugh.

“It's a compliment,” Brittany explains as Puck comes around them to pour their drinks.

“Greatest of all time,” Puck says proudly, “That’s your girl, Lopez. She’s got big things coming up in her future. Another chance at being the hot shot on campus!”

“I mean, obviously,” She quips as Puck hands them their drinks, “She’s hot no matter the campus.”

“Yeah, but not just any campus…” Puck smirks.

Santana glances between them looking slightly confused, “What’s he talking about?”

It isn’t until then that Brittany realizes she’s been so caught up in finding Santana and their conversation on porch that she hasn’t told Santana about the OSU recruiter yet.

“So that recruiter Coach wanted me to meet after the game?” Brittany tells Santana, “He wants to schedule a meeting with me after Christmas break, maybe have me come up to tour the facilities.”

Santana’s eyes widen as she turns to her, “Really? Oh my God! B, that's huge!”

“I know,” Brittany replies, “He said he was impressed. Apparently, I’ve got one heck of an arm and that my accuracy is like crazy good. All things I already knew, but it was really cool to hear it from someone like him. Ohio State is one of the top schools in the football world so if he’s complimenting me then…it’s something to be proud of. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but it looks promising for me.”

“That’s amazing,” Santana replies as she glides her hand up Brittany’s arm lovingly, “He’d be crazy not to take you on. You’re like a football goddess.”

Brittany blushes, “I don’t know about all that...”

“It’s true, Pierce, and you know it!” Puck smirks, “Now can we see what that arm can do at pong? I’ve got big money on this game!”

Santana rolls her eyes at him, but instead of cursing him out she just looks to Brittany and holds her hand tighter.

“I’m proud of you, babe,” She says softly, “Really. If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

Brittany can only smile fondly in response as they make their way to the other room.

\\

Just like their first showdown, the match between Brittany and Quinn is a nail biter.

The audience is even bigger than before, but Brittany isn’t phased too much by them – she’s more focused on impressing Santana with her mad skills. Unlike the last time, Santana lingers by her side whispering sweet words of encouragement mixed in with flirty compliments that makes Brittany’s face feel flush.

Thankfully she’s able to blame it on the alcohol and no one else seems to notice.

So far, she’s ahead of Quinn by three cups but Brittany knows she can’t get cocky just yet – even if Santana’s doing all the shit-talking for her.

“Where the hell were you aiming, Fabray?” Santana jokes as the ball bounces off the edge of the table and into the crowd of bystanders, “I thought you were good at this game? Britt’s working with a sore elbow, step your game up!”

“Will you pipe down over there?” Quinn grumbles before Brittany sinks another cup.

“Drink up,” Brittany smirks while Santana cheers.

Quinn just rolls her eyes as she goes for the cup, “I play better when I’m drunk anyway.”

“Excuses,” Santana laughs before leaning in to kiss Brittany’s cheek, “You’re doing great, B.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” Brittany giggles.

“Whatever it is, keep doing it,” Santana grins and fires down another insult in Quinn’s direction.

Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s being so carefree but she’s sure it’s also the alcohol taking effect. Either way, she curls her arm around Santana’s waist and gives her a kiss back loving how comfortable they are about doing this in public. As she takes a look around them, she notices no one stares – no one even looks their way.

Maybe Santana’s right about this being the beginning of something new? Maybe the hype of something they’ve all deemed so scandalous has died down? Maybe they can finally be like any other couple out there?

Brittany’s train of thought is broken by the sound of a pong ball plopping into one of her cups though. Quinn and Mike cheer from the other end while Santana waves them off.

“Whatever! You’re still losing,” Santana tells them but they don’t hear her – Mike and Quinn are too busy sharing a celebratory kiss.

“Quinn’s about to redeem herself, Britt!” Sam warns, “Watch out.”

Quinn just smirks as she takes a big gulp of her drink.

\\

Although Quinn’s able to tie the score, her redemption tour doesn’t end up working in her favor. With just one cup left on each side, it felt reminiscent of their last match. Only this time, Santana’s there to whisper into Brittany’s ear a very promising reward should she win this game.

That was all the incentive Brittany needed to set the record straight on who the real champ of beer pong was. On her next go, she sinks her ball into Quinn’s last cup with one swift motion.

“Yeah! Take that, Fabray!” Santana quips.

The room erupts in cheers along with Santana while Sam moves around to collect the winnings.

“Well earned, Cap,” He says as he hands over a wad of cash to Brittany.

Brittany chuckles as she takes the stack. She flips through it before handing him a twenty, “For your support.”

Sam bows his head before tucking the bill away in his pocket, “Thanks!”

As Brittany does the same, Santana comes up from behind and slides her arms around Brittany’s waist.

“What about me?” Santana husks against the back of her neck, “What do I get?”

The sound tugs at something deep within Brittany – something that makes her want take Santana to a dark empty room where they can be alone – but she just bites her lip as she turns in Santana’s arms. There’s this familiar glimmer in her pretty brown eyes that seem to darken as they lower to Brittany’s lips.

Santana’s not being subtle and Brittany revels in it.  

“Baby, you can have whatever you like,” Brittany flirts lowly.

Santana lets out a raspy chuckle, but soon they’re interrupted by Quinn and Mike joining them from their side of the table.

“Well played,” Quinn points out around a smirk, “Even with your elbow.”

Brittany chuckles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders, “Had my good luck charm with me this time.”

Santana snorts at Brittany’s corniness as she pinches lightly at her side. They all fall into casual conversation as they watch the next round of beer pong, sipping their drinks and laughing along with whatever impression Sam tries.

“So what's the plan now that the season's over?” Mike asks before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in, “There's still that spot on my team for synchronized swimming?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I think I'll pass.”

“I'm sure Coach Sylvester wouldn't say no to you joining the squad?” Quinn offers.

Santana scoffs, “Sure she would. She's not going to extend the offer twice. Think about her pride.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Sorry babe,” Santana nudges Brittany as she begins to smirk, “You'll have to do a little begging if you really want it.”

Quinn practically facepalms at Santana’s lack of subtilty while the guys playfully catcall the couple. Santana’s looks quite pleased with herself for that innuendo too and it makes Brittany laugh, trying to mask being so flustered by the comment.

“Oh, I'm sure I could get myself on the team,” Brittany says, “I can be pretty convincing.”

“Ooooh,” Mike and Sam tease in unison.

Santana rolls her eyes at their commentary, “Shut up.”

Brittany chuckles, “But on a serious note, I don't think I'll try joining the Cheerios either.”

“What then?” Quinn wonders.

“Going to whip the Puck Heads into shape next?” Mike jokes.

“They need it!” Sam laughs, “Wait can you play hockey too?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’m not very good.”

“So there is something you can't do?” Santana teases quietly.

Brittany bumps her girlfriend with her hip before replying, “I think I’ll keep up my training instead and just focus on my studies for the most part. You know, spend more time with my family and my girl.”

“My girl,” Mike parrots to Sam before they start giggling like a couple of school girls.

“Q, do something about him,” Santana groans.

Quinn smirks, “No way. You too are cute. Mike and I might actually have some real competition when Prom season comes around.”

“Please,” Santana holds up her hand, “Brittz and I totally have that in the bag.”

Brittany nods, “It's true. We're awesome.”

“That’s right,” Santana lifts her chin proudly.

“We’ll see,” Quinn waves off although there’s a proud smile on her face, “If you change your mind about the Cheerios, Britt, let me know.”

“Sure,” Brittany nods, “I think I’ll be set on just training though.”

“Especially if you’re headed to OSU,” Sam cheers before he and Mike high five.

Brittany smiles at their enthusiasm but then she catches a glimpse of Santana’s look of somberness. She’s not really sure how to interpret it, but the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach makes her want to explain further.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” Brittany clarifies, “I still want to weight up all my options when they come.”

She makes a point to glance in Santana’s direction as she speaks, wanting to give her this reassurance that she hasn’t made a decision yet. Santana seems to catch on and smiles in return.

“That’ll take you forever,” Santana jokes, “There’s bound to be a lot of them.”

Brittany just smiles. She hopes Santana’s right, but even if she isn’t she’s happy with her current outlook.

\\

The rest of Brittany’s night is spent mostly on the dancefloor with her friends, a cold drink in her hand and her super hot girlfriend grinding against her. It’s the most fun she has had in awhile and it feels even more relaxed than usual now that she has another Championship win beneath her belt.

Actually, there’s so much to celebrate tonight so it seems that everyone is in high spirits. Crowds of people that wouldn’t usually mingle are mingling, the drinks are flowing, the dancefloor is packed – even if Finn looks like he’s sleepwalking and Sugar’s taken over the DJ booth again.

There’s this satisfying buzz in the air, this comforting feeling that everything will somehow be alright from now on. When Brittany looks to her side, she finds Santana watching her with this knowing grin.

“What?” Brittany starts to smile too.

Santana only shrugs, “You wanna go outside with me? I need some air.”

“Sure,” Brittany says and as she starts to lead the way to the back door she’s hit with a strange sense of déjà vu. She wonders what it could be as she swipes a water bottle from the cooler and slides open the back door.

They continue to out onto the back porch and head to the pool chairs across the way. There’s a few others standing around the fire pit but they’re too far away for them to notice Santana and Brittany taking a seat. The two cuddle up together for warmth, but the fresh air feels nice on their flushed faces.

“You having a good time?” Brittany wonders as she twists off the cap of the water bottle and hands it to Santana first.

“With you? Always,” Santana winks before taking a sip. Once she finishes she passes it back to Brittany, “You?”

“Duh.”

There’s a comfortable pause where they just stare in the direction of the house, watching the shadows of partygoers cross the windows. While they pass the water bottle they share back and forth, something still feels oddly reminiscent but Brittany can’t quite put her finger on it. She has a pretty strong buzz going on so it’s no wonder she can’t think straight, but it still makes her ponder.

“So Ohio State, huh?” Santana says after a moment and it sounds like there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice. Maybe it’s only the cold though as she adds, “Keeping it close to home?”

''I don't want to get my hopes up just yet, but it would be pretty cool,” Brittany explains.

“They'd be crazy not to have you.”

“So you’ve said,” Brittany smirks.

Santana laughs but becomes a little shy as she averts her eyes to the bottle in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a moment as she picks at the label. When she does, it makes Brittany’s heart race.

“Maybe I'll see you there?”

Brittany thinks her ears have deceived her once again. She blinks and asks, “Wait, where? OSU?”

“Yeah,” Santana says hesitantly.

Brittany can’t help but smile in disbelief, “You applied?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve applied to a lot of places,” Santana responds. There’s still a little hesitance but it slowly fades as she takes in Brittany’s initial reaction, “But Ohio State is at the top of my list if it’s at the top of yours.”

Brittany’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s hearing Santana suggesting the idea of them potentially going to college together. She thought it might’ve been a pipe dream, a silly wish that would never be fulfilled, but hearing Santana’s offer makes her feel like she’s on top of the world.  

“It has a pretty good Sports Medicine program,” Santana continues upon Brittany’s silence, “And I kind of also like the idea that I wouldn't be too far from you if that’s where you decide to go. I know you’ll be super busy with practice and training. I’ll probably be super busy too but – all the more reason to stay close by?”

There’s a momentary lapse of judgment on Santana’s end though because Brittany still hasn’t said anything so she quickly begins to ramble on.

“Unless you don’t want to do that. That’s cool too because maybe it’s weird to think that far ahead. Is it weird?” Santana questions, “A lot can change in the next six months. Like what if we break up or end up hating each other?”

Brittany softens, “I could never hate you. That’s silly.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Santana shakes away the idea, “I know we've only been dating for a little while and we’ve never really talked about what we want to do in the future – like after we graduate – but I don’t know. Staying close to you felt right so I just…I wanted to put it out there.”

Brittany finally finds her voice and replies, “That sounds like an awesome idea.”

Santana looks hopeful, “Really?”

“As long as this is what you want to do too,” Brittany clarifies, “I don't want to be the one to keep you here just because we're together. I want you to follow your dreams too, even if that means being apart for a little bit. It might be hard, but we could find a way. I just – I want to make sure that you’re not doing this because of me.”

“It's what I want,” Santana says confidently, “I'm sure of it. I’m only doing things for me now. I’ve actually been thinking about it for awhile now, I was just a little nervous about saying something out loud too soon. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it a few times too,” Brittany chuckles as she drapes her arm around Santana, “You and I in college together sounds so cool.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Santana smirks.

Brittany nods, “So Sports Medicine, huh? You really want to be a doctor after all.”

Santana blushes, “You know, I could never see myself being the kind of doctor my dad is because it's super boring and I couldn't justify going through all that schooling to be bored for the rest of my life. No offense to him, but no way.”

Brittany giggles at Santana’s reasoning and the way she crinkles her nose cutely.

“I figure it’s time to have something of my own. I can continue the Lopez legacy in a roundabout way, I’m just adding my own touch.”

“Makes sense,” Brittany shrugs.

“So, I’ve done my research though and I think Sports Medicine might just be my thing,” Santana adds, “I'm apart of the action without actually being in it. It’s exciting and just my speed and who knows, maybe I’ll come across people like you?”

“Like me?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “You know – people who strive to make a difference in a sport that they love. People who do the work to leave a positive impression behind. People who can influence entire teams for the better – like you.”

Brittany’s a little in awe of Santana, “You really think that about me?”

“Of course I do,” Santana replies easily, “You’re smart, you’re talented, and you’re a good person. You know how hard it is to be all three? You do it with such ease. You've inspired me, Britt, and I’m sure I’m not the only one out there. I’m just the lucky one that gets to date you too.”

Brittany chuckles at that as she starts to blush. Santana grins and leans in a little closer.

“In a way, you’ve made me remember why I ever wanted to be a doctor in the first place.”

“Really?”

Santana hums, “You’ve taught me so much without realizing it. You’ve taught me how to go after the things that I want, no matter what the obstacles may be, because what awaits at the end is so worth it. I know it’s true because here I am sitting with you.”

Brittany’s so taken aback by Santana’s words that she can only say three in response. It’s the only three words that have been repeating over and over again in her head since they were back on the field together. At first it was a quiet whisper, but after everything Santana just said – Brittany can’t hold back any longer.

“I love you.”

She says it simply around a look of pure adoration because that’s exactly what she feels at this very moment for Santana – complete adoration.

Santana sputters out a disbelieving laugh, “You do?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Brittany giggles, “I meant to tell you earlier at the game but I guess I was just stunned more than anything. I didn’t expect you to be the one to say it first.”

“You and me both.”

“Yeah,” Brittany says shyly, “Actually, I've been meaning to tell you for awhile now. There's been so many times that I felt like I was just going to blurt it out, but I didn't know if you'd feel the same way and l was nervous that – I don’t know. I was nervous that maybe I was moving too fast. I didn’t want to scare you off either.”

Santana smiles at that and it eases Brittany’s nerves a little as they settle into another comfortable silence.

After all the loss she has endured this year and all the obstacles she has faced since moving to Lima, she’s never felt so wholly content than she does at this very moment. There’s been times when everything has felt too serious, too hopeless even, so to be where she is now is something really special.

Brittany always felt like she was a great playmaker, not just on the field, but in life too. She always felt like she could make the best out of any situation, but this year really tested her. The hurt she felt after losing her dad was something she didn’t think she’d ever recover from and she didn’t think it was possible to pull herself out of that dark place she’d sometimes find herself in.

But here, in Lima of all places, it was like the sun began to shine on her once again.

She met Santana and found herself on a brand new football team and everything else started to fall into place – she began to thrive once more. That unbearable pain from before still lingers but it’s only a dull ache now compared to what it once was. When she thinks about how much she has grown in such a short amount of time, she’s reminded of where it all started – and that’s when it hits her.

That feeling of déjà vu that has resided in the back of her mind starts to make sense!

As Brittany glances over to the clear glass of the sliding door they exited from earlier, she remembers what it was like being on the other side of it months ago. She remembers the similar thrum of dance music, the faceless bodies swaying about to the beat, the cold beer in her hand. She was starting to get used to the idea of spending her senior year in Lima.

She remembers thinking that maybe this place won’t be so bad after all, maybe it won’t be so lonely? She was already off to a great start by finding herself a place with the Titans and there was also her budding friendship with Mike and Sam. She even had a place to sit at lunch so she didn’t have to do the new kid walk of shame into the cafeteria.

Brittany felt hopeful and then she remembers seeing her for the first time.

Santana, in her tight skirt and low-cut top. Santana, with her hair and make up perfectly styled. Santana, looking like she belonged on a cover of a magazine with how gorgeous she was just sitting poolside.

At the memory, Brittany glances from the door to her side where Santana watches quietly. She finds herself smiling at how it’s nearly the exact same spot as the first time she ever saw her.

“What?” Santana wonders, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking,” Brittany answers, “This spot is pretty special.”

Santana quirks a brow as she looks around, “Is it?”

“Totally,” Brittany replies before pointing over to the edge of the pool, “The first time I ever saw you, you were sitting right over there.”

Santana chuckles, “Was I?”

“Yup!” Brittany grins, “You were sitting by the pool with Quinn and I remember thinking how I’ve never seen a girl looking so sad at a party before.”

“Oh,” Santana blushes, “I used to hate coming to these things. You know, I nearly didn’t go to that one?”

“Really?”

“I just didn’t have the energy for it,” Santana shrugs, “But I showed up because I thought I had to – for appearances sake. Also because Quinn wanted to see Mike and she didn’t want to go alone.”

Brittany chuckles, “Well I’m glad you came anyway. Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself by being the sad girl…”

Brittany gives her a amused look, “I also remember thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

Santana smirks, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany starts to smirk too, “This spot is even more special now because this is where you kissed me for the first time.”

Santana softens, “It is, isn’t it?”

They keep trading these smitten grins as they sink into each other’s sides. It feels like it has been the longest day ever, but she’s so happy that she’s ending it like this – with Santana by her side in there little bubble of happiness and…so in love.

So in love, that gets Brittany thinking.

She contemplates if she really wants to be this truthful but she figures the alcohol is making her speak more freely than usual, so why not? Honesty has always been the best policy anyway, so Petey says.

“You want to hear something funny?” Brittany quietly asks a moment later.

“What?”

She inhales a shaky breath before saying, “I've never said that to anyone – I love you. I mean, I've had love for people and I've said I love you to people in like a friendly way and I of course tell my mom and Pete that I love them too but I've never meant it like this before.”

Santana stares back with this adorably confused look on her face and it makes Brittany blush. It all makes sense in her head, but she isn’t sure if it’s translating the right way out loud.

“I've never meant it like,” Brittany pauses for a moment before she smiles, “Like I’m in love with you.”

Santana turns to her with this awed expression on her face. It’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing or that Brittany’s speaking in gibberish. Dark brown eyes shift back and forth as if she’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t going to come. When Brittany only continues to stare back – sure and unwavering – Santana lets out a shy giggle.

“You're in love with me?” She asks breathlessly.

Brittany nods, “I am.”

“Wow,” Santana blushes. Her lips part and press after that but the words don’t form. It isn’t until Santana let’s out another shy giggle before staring back at Brittany and softening, “Well, don't I feel special.”

“So you should,” Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s trying so hard to be cool about it although she can tell that Santana’s anything but cool on the inside.

Santana gives her one last look of disbelief before leaning in like she’s about to tell her a deep dark secret, “You know what?”

“What?”

Santana bites her lip before saying, “I've never told anyone that I love them before. You’re the first.”

“Really?” Brittany feels like she’s floating again, “Now I feel special too.”

“So you should,” Santana teases.

Brittany giggles at her response before settling into her side.

What a whirlwind of a year it has been! Never would she have thought that this is how she’d be ending it, with an amazing girlfriend by her side and another championship title in her possession. It makes her wonder what the rest of the school year has in store for her, it makes her wonder what obstacles she’s bound to face.

She knows they’re inevitable, because nothing comes easy. If anything, this past year has taught her that much. But this time she has something she didn’t have before – she has someone she loves and who loves her back.

She has Santana.

With her, Brittany thinks anything is possible.

[sleepawaywriting]

Mornings, Part II

[Piers x Reader, NSFW]

I was actually planning on finishing a chapter about Gordie before this one, but the surge of love for Piers from his 3 second twilight wings finale cameo inspired me to finish this first, so enjoy! (Sorry to whoever made that Gordie request, HE’S A-COMING DON’T YOU WORRY.)

NSFW (18+) UNDER THE CUT

A deep bass throbbed beneath your feet, thrumming up your legs, through your bones, and resonating within your chest. An indigo-tinged darkness bathed your surroundings, a forest of nondescript figures with blurred faces limiting your movement, and in front of you, raised on an invisible stage, was your boyfriend and his band, backlit by a constellation of stark white, neon violet, and hot pink—the colors undulating to and fro like luminescent inkblots. Everything felt too out of focus, your senses phasing in and out like a radio signal in a storm. You almost felt intoxicated, but surely you would have remembered drinking? The music sounded too warbled for your liking, so you closed your eyes, zeroing in on your boyfriend’s distinct voice, his siren song sweeping through your eardrums, swirling around your disoriented mind, suffusing your senses with warmth and familiarity.

Opening your eyes, you were suddenly being pressed against a brick wall. Where were you? A nearby alley? Wait, wasn’t there a concert going on? But your thoughts were put on hold, because Piers was right there, entire body flush against yours, face mere inches from your own. He was fully clothed, but the heat radiating from his body amorously dripped down onto your own, seeping into your skin, as if both of you were completely naked. His face moved down to your neck—arms caging you in—and you felt the tickle of his long, silky hair at your collar and across your shoulders. You wanted to say something like, “Piers, we can’t do this here,” but he was already kissing slowly down the smooth column of your throat, sucking sharply at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You exhaled in a shudder as he moved down to your collar, and your stomach flipped at the possibility of being caught like this, but your jaw was sealed shut by some magical force, your tongue caged hopelessly behind your teeth. Suddenly, the top half of your body was bare, exposed to the chilled nighttime air and dim light of the alleyway, but any confusion you felt was overrun by desire as the musician began to caress you chest.

The first inklings of heat pooled between your legs, which, like the rest of your body, was chained back against the wall by an unseen force. You were at the complete mercy of the singer working his tantalizing lips and searing tongue over your flushed skin, leaving a trail of faint, rosy marks in his wake, pulling you apart bit by agonizing bit. You couldn’t see much, not that you could move your head to begin with, but you felt his bangs brush across your sternum, hot breath tickling your goosebump-laden skin. You felt his tongue encircle one of your nipples, slow and teasing, before capturing it in his mouth and sucking salaciously. Your breath hitched, his mouth sending a pang of arousal deep into your lower belly, a sweet gush of warmth permeating your gradually soaking heat. You felt him smirk before continuing his ministrations, alternating between persistently sucking on one nipple, and gently playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. You couldn’t stand it, not being able to look at him, not being able to run your fingers through his thick, two-toned locks, not being able to tell him how good he was, how you so desperately needed more. You writhed slowly when he switched sides, an image painting itself in your mind—he was staring up at you, under long lashes and sharp eyebrows, his striking blue eyes—rimmed with faded charcoal—gleaming with lust and mischief. His mouth against your breasts, wet, hot, and so inviting, made your mind wander to other parts of your body, parts where the press of his lips and sweep of his tongue would work you over so sinfully, shattering any semblance of composure as you devolved into an absolute wanton mess. A gentle bite around your nipple drew you from your thoughts, gasping against the delicious sensation. Drawing away, he replaced his mouth with his other hand, squeezing your breasts together and playfully encircling each nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Always so sensitive here, love,” he purred, voice muffled and too far away, yet still dripping with unbridled arousal, “Wonder if I can make you come just by doin’ this,” he mused, pressing against your flushed nipples for emphasis.

If you had a voice you would keen, whimpering like the hopelessly needy thing you were, but instead you could only sigh, arching into his touch with what little strength you had. You gasped when he gave your nipples a loving pinch, chuckling lowly, the rich, melodious sound shooting straight to your dripping pussy, aching and clenching fruitlessly around, well, nothing. Gods, you suddenly felt so empty. Another image manifested itself in your haze, of him pressing you further against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, burying himself inside of you to the hilt with a husky groan, and pounding into you with wreckless abandon, not caring if anyone heard or saw the two of you in such a compromising position. Would he even stop, if you were caught? The thought made heat bloom in your cheeks and spread down your neck, imagining your chaotic, fearless rockstar making it clear to whomever stumbled upon you that only he could make you, the literal Champion, fall apart so beautifully. You were drawn from your fantasy by the feeling of Piers’ lips traveling down your stomach. He paused to nuzzle your soft belly, humming in appreciation as he squeezed your supple hips, the tender gesture making your heart melt. You deeply cherished the way he made every single part of you feel so attractive, so loved.

You sensed him kneel down, feeling your legs being shouldered further apart, and the rest of your clothing seemed to make itself scarce. You barely had time to dwell on how impossible that was, because the next thing you felt was your boyfriend’s breath tickling the course hair between your legs, the gentle suggestion of what was to come making your clit throb. Softly, so softly, he drew his thumb up the length of your heat, not nearly close enough to give you the sweet contact you needed.

“Hmm… so wet already, love,” he hummed, “Y’ such a good girl.”

You wanted to moan, but you could only exhale in a lustful huff. He chuckled again, his voice utterly intoxicating, and several moments passed thereafter—no sound or movement to ease the tension in your gut. You were holding your breath in anticipation, when finally, he moved, but instead of diving into your aching pussy, like you so desired, he moved back, clearly wishing to torture you just a bit more before indulging your wishes. Nuzzling into your plush inner thigh, he released an affectionate sigh, his breath fanning along your skin, igniting your nerves. Legs tensing around his shoulders, you felt his lashes graze flirtatiously against your thigh, before he moved upwards, kissing and nibbling on the delicate skin all while his hands roamed and massaged the outside of your thighs, reaching around and giving your ass a sultry squeeze. When he reached the space between your thigh and groin, he sucked harshly on the tender area, drawing out a breathless whine from your throat, and before he moved any further, any closer, he retreated again, repeating his smothering affections up your opposite thigh. You were panting by the time he reached your groin again, or whatever the approximation of panting was in your paralyzed state, and to your utter delight and horror, he denied you yet again, drawing back to tease both of your sensitive thighs once more. By now, you felt your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, despite the fact that he had barely given that area any attention. You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his thick, beautiful hair and shove his face into your eager cunt, and you knew for a fact that the handsome bastard would love nothing more. He enjoyed doing this sort of thing to you, drawing you to the absolute brink of neediness and desperation, always ever-so-patient and frustratingly thorough to the point where you were practically begging for release.

Your hips were trembling by the time he reached your upper thigh again, mere inches from where you needed him most. Something within you gave way then, allowing you to cut through the invisible strings that wired your jaw shut. It felt as though your body was working in slow-motion, every movement like wading through glue, but you managed to make a noise.

“Piers…” you breathed his name, just a hint of a syllable, tumbling from your lips in an amorous whimper.

The wanton sound seemed to destroy his resolve, as the next thing you felt was his long, smoldering tongue flush against your sensitive heat, parting your folds with a thick stripe up the length of your pussy. A surge of warmth shuddered up your spine, and the alleyway began to melt around you, brick and mortar giving way to pillows and wrinkled sheets, the darkness absorbed by the soft golden hues of morning’s light.

You awoke with a whine into the heated atmosphere of your shared bedroom, body melting against the mattress as you carded your fingers through your boyfriend’s tousled hair. Blinking the haze from your eyes, your lids felt heavy as you gazed down at him. His bangs were hooked behind his ears to gain uninterrupted access to your pussy, exposing both of his gorgeous, tired eyes, gleaming against his beautifully flushed cheeks as they regarded you lovingly from between your thighs. You had no idea how one person could look so adorable while ravishing you so fully, and from the look he was giving you, you could tell he would be smirking if his mouth wasn’t otherwise preoccupied. Your stomach erupted in butterflies as you watched him lick another languid stripe up your dripping cunt, your head falling back against the pillows as you tugged on his scalp. He groaned against you, the sound making you shudder, the vibrations of his husky voice drawing a sigh from your throat, and you practically keened when he twirled his tongue around your clit, ending in a gentle suck that sent sparks dancing down your legs and into the soles of your feet. Everything about him was overwhelming—his mouth insufferably warm, lips impossibly soft, and tongue absolutely ravenous as he tasted every inch of you, making your toes curl. It all felt so wonderfully slick, and at this point you couldn’t who was making more of a mess. His movements were somewhat sloppy due to what you assumed was sleepiness, but the unpredictability in his actions only added to the tightness building in your hips. The pressure in your abdomen built with ferocity as you squirmed, forcing him to hold your hips down with both hands, chuckling at your eagerness.

His tongue drew more lazy circles around your pulsing clit, before sliding down and diving deep into you aching entrance as far as he could go. Your walls fluttered, body desperate for something thicker, longer, and your grip on his scalp tightened as you dug your heels into his upper back.

“Please…” you whimpered, shocked at the desperation in your own voice.

He needed no further encouragement, sliding a hand down between your thighs, slowly pressing his middle and ring fingers into your welcoming heat while planting a heated kiss to your clit. You almost came from the sensation alone, his long, nimble fingers working you open so much more beautifully than yours ever could. Groaning into you, his movements became more insistent, purposeful, moving around your clit in feverish patterns, your body jolting whenever the flat of his tongue slid across the exposed bud. The noises emitting from the two of you were obscene—the wetness of your heat providing a filthy accompaniment to your pants and moans, as he pumped his fingers deep into your pussy and borderline slurped on your clit. You gasped as he curled his fingers inside of you, your back arching up off the mattress when he pressed against your sweet spot, rocking his hand against your entrance and creating a delicious pace of varying pressures against your inner walls, your pussy squeezing around him instinctively.

“Piers—!“ you cried, losing any semblance of self control and moaning shamelessly as a coil of pleasure tightened inside of you. It was white-hot and exquisite, magnifying every little movement the singer made against and inside of you, until it snapped and released, careening you over the edge as you gasped his name at the ceiling, eyes rolling back before shutting them tight. He groaned as you pushed his head against your quivering heat, grinding against his heavenly mouth and skilled fingers, prolonging your orgasm as your thighs tensed around him. Waves of warmth shuddered through your body, starting deep within your pelvis and working out to your fingers and toes, until finally, finally your body relaxed, whimpering as your boyfriend gave your oversensitive clit one last kiss, before slowly pulling his fingers from your heat. You fell limp against the mattress, your chest heaving as you steadied your breathing, head spinning as you descended from your magnificent peak.

You looked down just as he began to sit back up, his hair cascading in loosely-tangled waves down his pale shoulders, and watched, captivated, as he shamelessly licked your essence from his fingers, an impish gleam in his eyes. You squeaked and covered your face, cooling cheeks now reheating in embarrassment.

“Un-believable,” you groaned, voice muffled by the palms of your hands, “One of these days you’re going to kill me with something like that, I swear.”

He chuckled deeply, and it sounded like a song, sweet like a spoonful of honey and warm like cashmere. You felt a weight land carefully on top of you, followed by the faint whiff of spiced soap, and you lowered your hands to find your boyfriend nuzzling into your chest, gazing up at you with tired, lovestruck eyes and an adorable, lop-sided grin. Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved him.

You smiled, cradling either side of his face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss, humming affectionately when you tasted yourself on his lips, combing your fingers back through his hair. He moaned softly when you rubbed the sweet spot at the base of his skull, and you giggled as he nibbled lazily on your lower lip. The two of you lingered for a bit, simply enjoying the closeness, before Piers broke away, yawning and burying his face back into the swell of your breasts. You smiled, yawning yourself as you soothingly played with his hair, bringing a sigh from his throat.

“You tired, love?” you asked, pressing a tiny kiss to the crown of his head.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You felt his voice resonate against your chest.

“I can imagine…” you mused, pondering for a moment. You were still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm he had so generously gifted you, but something was bothering you—and that something was the long, firm erection pressing insistently against your upper thigh through the musician’s briefs. Going down on you had always managed to rile Piers up, which was something you found incredibly attractive about him, but he usually wasn’t one to ignore it completely, let alone fall asleep before resolving the issue. Although, this was the first time he had done it right after waking himself up, you assumed. Perhaps giving incredible head this early in the morning had knocked the wind out of his sails.

“Babe?” you started.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” you asked, a hint of flirtatiousness in your voice, shifting your leg ever-so-slightly to rub your thigh against him, his cock practically jumping in response to your gentle attention. Piers sighed heavily, turning his head up towards your face, not yet opening his eyes, and you smiled at the way his cheek smooshed against your skin.

“Yeah, but… ‘m real sleepy… kinda jus’ wanna nap,” he mumbled.

A soft laugh rolled through your chest, lightly jostling the musician’s head. He smiled into your skin, your joy soothing like a lullaby.

“Here,” you started, running your fingers across his scalp one last time before shifting beneath him, “Come and lie next to me, love.”

He mumbled something in response, before lazily crawling up the bed and plopping down beside you, wrapping a long arm around your waist and nuzzling into the small of your back. Biting your lip, you began slowly grinding against him, the soft curve of your ass making his cock twitch. He groaned, pulling you closer and grinding up into you in kind, the friction utterly delicious and tempting.

“We can do it like this, nice and slow, if you want” you hummed, your voice soft and sweet, turning to look back over your shoulder, batting your eyelashes for extra effect, “Please?” your voice lowered, dripping with desire, “I… I want you to come inside me, Piers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when he immediately shot his hand down to fish out his cock, grumbling into your skin as he did so. You arched your back slightly, lifting your leg to get into position, breath stuttering when you felt his hot member flush against your bare ass.

“It should be easy… since you did such a good job already,” you cooed, shifting against him as he guided his cock to your entrance. Piers shuddered as he dragged the entirety of his aching erection across your pussy, and you gasped when his tip grazed your clit, still sensitive from your previous climax. He helped hold your leg aloft as he began pressing into you, squeezing your inner thigh as he slowly, carefully sank into your folds, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. Flames began to lick at the edges of your mind, within your chest, and across your lower regions as he pressed further, and you gasped as his head gave way to his shaft, tensing as he stretched you further than his fingers had before. Piers immediately froze.

“You alright?” he asked, his smooth, silky voice against your ear, helping you relax.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured him, “It didn’t hurt, just caught me off-guard, is all.”

He hummed in response, and you smiled. Even in his sleep-addled state, he was still so attentive and careful with you, warmth blooming in your chest and traveling down between your legs as he continued to press inch by gentle inch, until he was finally sheathed inside of you.

The feeling of fullness sent a shudder clambering up your spine, your walls fluttering around him instinctively, feeling absolutely weak when he groaned in response, his tired voice rich and husky as his breath fanned across the shell of your ear. Gods, you were already so hot and bothered for the second time this morning. How the hell this musician always managed to turn you into a sopping wet mess was beyond you, but you were by no means about to complain.

There was something uniquely intimate about this position, despite not facing each other—his heated body pressed flush against your back, face buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he sighed fondly at the absolute perfect feeling of his cock enveloped in your snug, tight heat. You laid together for a moment, simply basking in the sleepy atmosphere of the room, the morning sunshine filtering through the blinds, bouncing off the ceiling and bathing the room in a soothing glow. Piers’ breathing deepened, relaxing even further into you, and you wondered if he had somehow managed to fall asleep while rock-hard and fully inside of you. You were about to turn and look over your shoulder, but you gasped when he suddenly moved, pulling your leg further upwards and bending it closer to your side, hooking the crook of his elbow into the inside of your knee. You barely had enough time to appreciate the new position, when his long, slender forearm managed to reach perfectly between your legs, his middle finger pressing against your swollen clit. You whined, arching your back as he began to toy with the sensitive nub, your hips beginning to rock of their own accord.

Piers didn’t move just yet, choosing only to swirl his agile fingers around your quickly-soaking heat, reveling in the way you ground back against his cock, squeezing his shaft so sinfully with every sweep of his fingers over your throbbing clit. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted more of his tantalizing fingers or more his wonderfully stiff cock as your hips swirled, your heated breathing turning into desperate panting, shuddering when he licked a hot stripe up the column of your neck.

“Piers…” you moaned, lifting your arm and drawing a hand back through his hair, your nails scratching along his scalp, causing the other to groan softly into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so good for me,” you praised, looking back over your shoulder, your beautifully debauched voice and heavily-lidded gaze tugging at his cock, as well as his heartstrings.

“I love you so mu-uch!“ you gasped as his hips jolted, thrust shallow, yet unexpected, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, the rouge in his cheeks deepening in hue. You couldn’t help but smile, grinning so wide that your eyes crinkled.

“Piers…” you breathed, asking for his attention. He opened his eyes, bright, crystalline, and glossed over with a combination of sleepiness and arousal.

“I love youuu,” you purred, giggling as he buried his warm face back into the crook of your neck.

“Stop…,” he groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you, transforming your laugh into a moan, “You’re gonna make me—ah—‘m not gonna last, if ya keep sayin’ that,” he breathed deeply, steadying himself. Your heart swelled within your chest. You truly loved your sweet, caring, sappy musician so, so much.

Piers reigned in his own pleasure, focusing all of his energy on the finger circling your clit. You felt that familiar coil tighten deep within your gut, your orgasm an inevitability, torn between wanting to savor this moment for as long as possible, and succumbing to sweet euphoria. The way your voice grew louder and more strained, the way your entire body began to writhe, and the way the fluttering pressure around his cock became more frequent, told Piers how close you were to coming undone. The movements around your clit increased in intensity, one finger turning to two, then three, as he massaged your heat at a scorching pace, sending shockwaves through your body and setting your nerves ablaze.

Feeling that something was missing, you drew your hand back, tugging on your boyfriend’s hair. He raised his head with a groan, and you twisted your upper body around, pressing your lips against his own. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but completely worth the effort once his tongue slipped past your lips. Everything built so nicely as you panted against his eager mouth, and when the pleasure boiled over, you were forced to break away as your entire body writhed in ecstasy. Piers watched, completely enraptured as your back lifted in a gorgeous arc, eyes screwed shut, face flushed, and head thrown back against the pillows, moaning his name like a prayer as pulses of warmth surged through your body. His breath hitched as you rode him through your climax, gasping as his hand returned to your thigh, gripping it for dear life as he began pounding into you. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, and powerful, fully indulging in the way you clenched so sweetly around him in your euphoria.

“Shit,” he groaned, voice hot and heavy against your ear, “Keep tight, just like that—good girl.”

You sighed at his praise, whimpering as the rhythm of his cock prolonged your orgasm.

“So fucking good—you feel so fucking good, I fucking love you so much,” he shuddered, voice ragged, practically babbling in his pleasure. You adored the way he came undone when he was close—praises, curses, and declarations of love tumbling freely from his lips as he completely lost himself in you. You rocked your hips back against him, matching his pace, biting your lip as you voluntarily clenched down around him to further draw out his orgasm.

“Shit! Ahh—you’re so good, love, fuck ‘m so close—!” he gasped in your ear, voice pitching in the most vulnerable, sexy way as he came, giving way to shameless groaning as he spilled inside of you. You shuddered at the feeling, almost embarrassed at how much you enjoyed being filled with his cum. It was a reminder of how good you were for him, and you couldn’t help but feel a special type of pride that you could make someone so beautiful, so kind, so talented, feel so good.

Piers panted for a few moments, before exhaling deeply, gently lowering your leg, moaning softly as he pulled out of you, making you shiver at the loss. You sighed as everything softened, muscles relaxing and body sinking into the mattress, the warm, hazy aura of the room tempting you into sleep. Despite your better judgement, you really didn’t want to move, let alone get out of bed, so you decided to save cleanup to future you, who would very much spend the entire time cursing present you. Piers seemed to agree, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in and spooning you as he buried his face into the nape of your neck, breathing softly, dreamily, as he mumbled against you.

“Seriously love you so much…” he confessed, placing a soft kiss to your cooling skin, “…’m so lucky to ‘ave you…” his voice grew softer, slower, as he was lulled into sleep, “…wanna spend the rest of m’ life with you…”

You hummed happily, relaxing against the sheets, breathing in the scent of cotton and the lingering amber of his cologne, until you fully registered what he had said. Your eyes snapped open, contemplating whether you should ask for further elaboration, but as you felt his body fall limp, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady against your back, you decided that conversation could wait for another day. For now, you chose to bask in the afterglow, allowing the warm, comforting presence of your blissfully snoozing boyfriend to pull you swiftly into dreamland.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, smiling to yourself, placing your hand over his.

[because-of-a-friend]

Falling Flowers |Ending|

MASTERLIST

Preview | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Ending

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 825

Summary: Glimpses of each other’s lives, a goal to reach, someone to save, someone to find, and too many questions to accomplish any of it

Alrighty guys! It’s all done! I hope you like it @meloncandykatie​ ! Now that this series is over, I’ll be getting back to the requests that have been coming in so feel free to send some my way!

Jihoon feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. He feels it again, this odd sense that he’s missing something. But this time it can’t be fixed by staring at the portraits, he’s tried.

What is it?

He turns on his heel over and over and over again in the middle of his studio, hoping he’ll just randomly come across what is needed.

What’s missing?

Who’s missing something?

Is it all of them or one of them?

Jihoon feels dizzy after awhile and decides to sleep in his own room instead of the studio that night. As he trudges down the hall, the questions drift continuously through his mind.

Maybe, he thinks as he climbs under his covers, maybe it’s not about finding the right answer, but the right question.

What completes the picture?

His mind falls into darkness.

Except this time, it’s different.

His dream isn’t a mashed-up jumble of random images and sounds.

It’s dark and quiet. And his easel is in front of him.

What completes the picture?

What completes the picture?

What completes the picture?

He raises a paintbrush to the canvas resting on his easel many times but always puts his hand back down.

What if this is his only chance?

He has to do it right.

He mulls over the portraits in his studio, considering what might be wrong with them.

Which boy was it?

What had he missed?

One or all?

One or all?

One or all?

How was he supposed to know?

It could be any of them, he thinks exasperatedly, it would be a much safer bet to just draw them all-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Together.

Draw them all together.

He starts quickly, drawing the details of each boy that now come to him so easily.

And he does it right.

Joshua, Vernon, and Seungkwan are all standing together. Mingyu’s got an arm over Jeonghan shoulders. Soonyoung and Minghao are joking with Dokyeom. Chan is standing shyly next to Jun, who Jihoon has placed in the middle, his hand grasping Wonwoo’s tightly. He even adds himself in there, a distance from the rest. And then there’s Seungcheol, the only one who isn’t looking forward and is instead looking at the rest of the boys.

Jihoon works tirelessly until his work is done, a picture of all of them together, standing in a beautiful garden.

Yes, he thinks as he feels himself fading from his dream, this should be enough.

Wonwoo doesn’t even startle when Jun appears in front of him.

He’s back where he started, in a dark room, alone on his knees.

But this time the chains are gone.

Jun looks like an angel in front of him, the sweetest smile on his face.

“You ready?” he asks simply.

Wonwoo nods.

Of course he is.

Jun takes his hand, and they’re transported.

After the bright light fades, he can see that they’re in the garden.

All of the other boys are around him, making their way to the very center of it.

Wonwoo also begins to move towards the light emanating from the center.

The world feels light, as if the gravity has lessened as they all step over the flowers to reach their destination.

They all gather around in a circle.

Everything feels even lighter, as if they’ll be sucked up into the air at any moment. The flower petals around them have already begun to, fading into the bright light above them.

But they’re not worried or scared, they’re happy. The light is warm and welcoming.

And it’s time.

EPILOGUE

When Jihoon awakes from his dream, he rushes to his studio. He pauses for a second, realizing the memories from his dreams aren’t fading like they usually do. He remembers them all so vividly, their faces… their names.

When he finally does reach his studio, he’s not even phased to find someone already in there. It’s Seungcheol. He’s staring up at the giant faceless portrait. Jihoon knows instantly that it’s Seungcheol that he’s painted in it. In fact, Seungcheol is wearing the same shirt adorned on the shoulders of the person in the portrait.

“You never told us you can paint,” Seungcheol says simply. “These are beautiful.”

Jihoon wants to say thank you but the lump in his throat is stopping him.

When Seungcheol turns to face Jihoon, he’s an exact replica of the portrait behind him.

When their eyes meet, the whole façade finally crashes like a mirror into a thousand pieces.

When Jihoon wakes up, really wakes up, he’s crying.

Relief and happiness fill his bones as he scrambles out of bed and runs.

He’s not exactly sure where he’s going, but he knows he will not stop until he finds them.

It’s Minghao first. They meet under a street light illuminating the darkness, their bodies crashing together in excitement.

It doesn’t take long for the rest to follow.

Soon they’re all there, together again.

Thirteen boys.

Thirteen souls.

Finally free.  

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track one

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Six. There were six different lines, tiny plastic tubes that hung down from the side of the bed, making the shape of a U in the air. Too many, but still, one less than yesterday.

“Is it alive?”

“No.”

“Is it a vegetable?”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“But is it a vegetable though?”

“No.”

“Aw shit.”

Indiana looked up from her hands then, brows furrowing at the small figure who had huddled herself under the thin cotton covers. You’d think, with how expensive hospital bills were that they could at least afford a real fucking blanket for their patients. Especially the kids.  

“C’mon now, watch the language.” She said. It was a half-hearted reprimand at best.

“You told me I could curse!”

“I told you that you could curse about your meds, there’s a difference.”

“Bullshit. I should be able to curse about anything I want to.”

“Bekah.” It was her mom voice – an instinct.

“Indiana.” The younger girl mimicked the tone as best she could.

There was a beat of silence then – well, as silent as a hospital room ever could get, that is. The monotonous song of machinery beeps, the muffled car horns outside on the streets, and nurses footsteps outside never truly faded.

“If the nurses hear you cursing in here they’re gonna say I’m a bad influence.” It was almost time for rounds and meds, 7pm on the dot - they’d be there any minute.

“Speak of the devil,” Bekah grumbled, eyes flitting to the door that was swinging open, the nurse bumping against it, her cart hitting the walls right on schedule.

“Hi miss Bekah, how’re we feeling this evening?”

“Shi-“

Indiana threw her a look, the kind she imagined her mom would give if she were there. Bekah sunk back into the pillow, rolling her eyes.

“-very. Shivery. It’s cold in here.”

She earned a thumbs up for that one and a wink that made her smile.

The nurse – Jennifer, Indiana realized – was as sweet as ever. She was one of the nicer ones, always let things slide, always let her stay 30 minutes after visiting hours if she really wanted to.

“That’s probably just the meds from earlier darling, they always make you a bit chilly.”

“Can’t wait to take more.” Bekah sighed, wiggling up in the bed and moving her shirt down, her collarbone prominent under her dark skin. Next to it sat a small bulge, surrounded by medical tape, two small tubes peeking out from underneath. They’d done a good job at making it subtle, unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it – Indiana’s mom’s port had never looked like that. She wondered if it was because the technology had improved in four years, or if they were just more careful about it when the patient was young.

Because it’s okay for an adult to have cancer, but a kid? That’s where we draw the fuckin’ line.

“Is it food?”

“What?” Jennifer asked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued to hang the bags on the IV pole.

“None of your business. Indiana, is it a food?”

“Now now,” Jennifer tutted.

“No, it’s not a food.” Indiana sighed, knowing better than to try and keep Bekah’s attitude in check. That was a battle she’d lose before it began. “Keep trying.”

She paused while the nurse took her time in getting her meds set and ready, attaching them to her port. She didn’t even flinch at the needle, the brown skin of her forehead as smooth and perfect as ever, not a worry line in sight. The game picked up as soon as Jennifer walked back out of the room.

“Is it something you- something you wear?” That was always the first sign that the meds entered her system – the ‘brain fog’ as she called it. Bekah sucked in a deep breath, her seemingly tiny chest rising up as she tried to settle herself. 

Indiana’s eyes flickered over to the IV bag – the clear liquid looked harmless enough as it dripped down. She knew it was anything but – just Bekah’s hair was enough to attest to that. She wore it in a wrap mostly these days, but she’d seen what was underneath. Her beautiful curls had started to fall out only a few weeks prior, and it was only a matter of time before they were gone completely. If she had to guess from what she’d seen when she fixed the knot of her wrap, the last of it would be gone after today.

“Yes, it’s something you wear.”

“So it’s clothes.”

“Not necessarily. You wear other things,” she explained, scooting her chair a bit closer to the bedside, reaching a hand out.

In the three years that Indiana had known Bekah, she was always amazed at how strong she was. It had impressed her from the first time she’d mustered up the courage to sign up for the volunteer program at the hospital two blocks away from her college apartment. Bekah was twelve then, a spunky young girl with big headphones over her ears and thick rubber bracelets on her thin wrists.

“Stop looking at me like that,” was what she’d chosen as an introduction. She’d looked up at Indiana with accusatory eyes, wide and dark and annoyed in the middle of the overly colorful pediatric wing hallway.

“Like what?”

“Like I have cancer. Don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it. Capeesh?”

She’d only been able to swallow and nod, somewhat embarrassed but mostly just in awe.

So, when Indiana got matched with her as her ‘buddy’, she tried her hardest to do as she’d agreed to. Or at least, she did her best to be subtle about it. She could sneak in her moments of worry at times like this, when Bekah’s eyes were scrunched closed and she didn’t bat away the hand holding hers.

“Damn. The BBJ is not making me feel very BB esque today,” she grumbled, breathing deep in through her nose. Indiana’s other hand inched towards the bedpan resting on the table – the nausea usually kicked in right about now, and her deep breathing was always a tell that her stomach was churning. BBJ stood for ‘Bad Bitch Juice’ which was just the fun term for chemo that Bekah had come up with during one of her rotations a few years back. The nurses hated it, gave Indiana dirty looks when she let her say it around them.

“Bed pan at the ready,” Indiana reassured her, making sure it was in reach in case it got to be too much.

“Just keep playing the game, it’ll distract me. What do I know so far?”

“It’s not alive, it’s not a vegetable or a food, you can wear it but it’s not clothes.”

“Makeup?”

Indiana shook her head, doing everything to avoid reacting to the way Bekah was squeezing her hand. It was so tight that she felt her bones were probably touching each other in a way they weren’t meant to.

“Shoes?”

“No.”

“Do you wear it on your head?”

“I mean… technically?”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Don’t dwell on it, just keep going.”

She saw it coming before it happened – the turn of Bekah’s face, the way her body jolted just barely. It’s a good thing it wasn’t her first time, or she wouldn’t have gotten the bedpan under her fast enough to catch her vomit. She held her breath, tried not to listen to the sounds of retching so she didn’t get sick herself, holding steady until Bekah’s stomach was empty and she’s laid back against the pillows, exhausted. Indiana followed the motions, got up and walked to the bathroom, dumped the contents down the toilet and flushed it, left the plastic basin on the floor for the nurses to get later and washed her hands. By the time she made it back to the side of the bed, Bekah’s eyes were closed.

There were three marked stages of a chemo session with Bekah: the ‘this doesn’t affect me’ phase, the puke phase, and finally, the sleep phase, which seemed to be fast approaching. Even with her eyes closed she felt Indiana join her at her bedside, and she sighed in defeat.

“What was it? I don’t wanna ask more questions.”

“Earrings.”

“That’s two things, you cheated.”

She could have argued, but you just don’t argue with a kid with cancer if you don’t have to. It’s an unspoken rule.

“You’re right. You win.”

Bekah seemed content enough with that, but her eyebrows scrunched up again like they always did when she was focusing.

“Where do you get earrings in your teeth?”

“Huh?”

“Earrings in teeth… there was a guy… yesterday… earrings.”

Indiana just held her hand as she rambled, drifting off as she turned her head into her pillow. Not that she knew personally, but she’d never seen anyone be comfortable during a chemo treatment. But there was a peace that took over when their body decided that it was too much to handle in the realm of consciousness and they drifted off into their dreams.

So she was happy to look at the bed after she picked up her backpack and see that Bekah’s was asleep. She closed the door on her way out, moved to the nurse’s desk to sign out like she always did. The nurses always smiled at her, sitting back there in their colorful scrubs and big headbands. This time, it was Valentina who beamed up at her.

“Indiana, honey, how’s school going?”

“It’s going.” It’s killing me. “Just one semester left to go!”

“Don’t you overwork yourself now, we need you around here,” she threw a wink with her long lashes, opening her mouth to say something else before her phone rang. “You have a good one honey, we’ll see you next week.” Valentina picked it up, another call to another room for another sick kid.

 With as many times as Indiana had made the walk, she was pretty sure she could do it with her eyes closed. Straight, past the forest murals, press the button on the left to open the doors. Then it was the ocean hallway on the left- the blues were peaceful, little sea turtles and fish floating on the walls. At the end, by the jellyfish, was the last door of the pediatric wing. Somehow, it always felt colder past that point, inside the ‘real hospital’. The nurse’s scrubs were plain blue there, the walls taupe and bland with paintings of trees and lakes instead of Winnie the Pooh and Dory. Indiana’s shoes squeaked against the polished floor on her way to the elevator, picking up her pace. She didn’t like this part. It was too familiar, too many memories of walking down the same hallway for much different reasons. Past that it was down two floors, out and to the right to get to the front doors.

As soon as she walked out into the New York city street, it was a breath of fresh air; if you could ever consider city air fresh. Still, she always preferred the smell of exhaust and cigarettes over the bleach that stung her nose inside the hospital. And if she sniffed hard enough and the wind was right, she swore she could smell Jet’s Coffee all the way from the small store that resided three blocks down the road. 

Want anything from Jet’s? She texted Charlie, hoping for a quick response from her sister as she hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her shirt sleeves down over her hands in a bid to ward off the brisk late September air.

Nah, Devin’s making dinner. Should be done by the time you get here. 

Also, where tf is your strainer?

Bottom cabinet by the oven, she answered, shaking her head.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister. She did, with her whole heart. The same went for her sweet almost-brother-in-law Devin- they were both supportive pillars in her life, always there with a listening ear, a warm hug, or life advice.

But god damn did she miss having her apartment to herself sometimes. The peace that came over her when she walked into her cozy apartment, saw the rest of Chelsea through the high windows, her view over the river? Unmatched. It was still there - the fog over the river in the cool autumn mornings, the bustling streets of people wrapped up in their coats - but now, her sister was there too, catching her at the door with the latest story of the day before she could even let out a breath. Charlie could never understand how her younger sister wanted to live alone in college, wanted a place to herself ever since she even knew it was an option. Indiana was the opposite of her in a lot of ways- the older of the two was a social butterfly of sorts who always surrounded herself with people, with loud voices and louder personalities that could keep up with her. She was wild - dropped out of college after her first semester, spent her last dime on a camera so she could grow a photography business from the ground up.

Their mom always said that Indiana was the calm to Charlie’s storm, her little angel who hardly ever cried, who just fit into the family like a perfect final puzzle piece, completing the picture. The puzzle was long forgotten now, disassembled in a box in the attic somewhere collecting dust over the last five years. She didn’t have to wonder if it would make her mom sad - she knew that it would be devastating for her if she were still there to see what had become of the Cross clan.

“There she is, the myth, the legend, thee Indiana Jamie Cross!” 

Caught up in her mind, Indiana didn’t even realize that her autopilot route home had taken her all the way into the door of Jet’s, and she found herself in the familiar lobby when she came to. The walls were charcoal gray, with the delicate little single-line white flowers painted on them that she remembered them putting up a few years ago, back when she worked there. Her old manager, Patrick, beamed at her from behind the counter, wide smile framed out by his ever growing hair.

“What’s she gonna get today, wait don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Today is a… caramel macchiato with one less pump of vanilla? Hot?” He mused, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Oatmilk, then yes, you got it.”

“Of course I was gonna give you oatmilk, what do I look like, an amateur?” He scoffed, shaking his head as she went to reach for her wallet. “It’s on the house today.”

“You can’t give me my coffee on the house every time Patrick, it’s bad for business.” 

“It’s my business, so shush and go wait at the end of the bar like a good customer,” he rolled his eyes, sending the scribbled cup down the line. She rolled her eyes and dropped a few one’s in the tip jar before she went over to her favorite chair, the big blue one by the windows where she could people watch while she waited. She always wondered what people did in small towns while they waited for things, without the bustling streets outside full of people in their own little worlds. 

Her phone buzzed in her lap. Marty. 

Hey girlie, are you busy tomorrow? We’ve got a new orientee who needs the run down, and nobody does it better than you! 

Marty’s speciality was buttering people up. Which explained why Buddies had over 200 volunteers like Indiana - with Marty in charge, it was hard to say no, even if she had planned on spending a chilled out day tomorrow with her sister and Devin.

Fine by me, just let me know what time

Awesome. He didn’t give me a specific time so I’ll just give him your number if you’re good with that.

She sent back a thumbs up as her name was called at the counter, got her coffee and headed out the door.  It was another block to get to her apartment, and when she got there the elevator ride up to the 18th floor was almost as long as the walk. She didn’t mind though. It was her own little welcome home ritual that she’d grown fond of over the last few years of living there. 

As she predicted earlier, when she opened the door, her usually peaceful space was in a bit of chaos. There were four bowls out on the counter, measuring cups everywhere, two pans out in addition to whatever smelled so good in the oven.

“Don’t start Indy, I’m gonna clean it, I promise.” Charlie appeared around the corner, already on the defense of the look she knew she was going to get. It felt a lot like Indiana was the older sister despite the three years that Charlie had on her. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Indiana mumbled under her breath, clearing a small spot on the counter and hopping up.

“It’s all in your face,” Devin teased from in front of the oven. “Scootch, unless you want me to burn you with this casserole dish.” 

She grumbled and hopped down from her much too temporary spot so that he could open the oven, deciding it was probably best to leave the kitchen until everything was done. 

Her kitchen was the only ‘small’ part of her apartment. The rest was plenty big, and she was proud of all she had done over the years to make it her own. The living room was cozy, with a dark gray couch and a reasonable (Charlie would say excessive) amount of decorative pillows and blankets. The shelves on the wall had a few house plants - fake ones, of course, and picture frames that had moved with her each time she called a new place home. The white frame that contained an old picture of her and Charlie as babies, white-blonde hair wispy as they played on the swings in their backyard. The most recent addition was the rose gold frame, a picture of her, Devin and Charlie at their engagement last July in Zion National Park - she could practically feel the heat of the sun every time she looked at it. The last frame stood alone on the smaller shelf, a wooden frame with a small heart carved in the corner. Inside, a black and white picture of her and her mom. She was about one in it, in a little crewneck sweatshirt and tennis shoes, holding onto her mom’s hands as she walked, both of them beaming. She’d been told by so many people over the years that she had “Nicole’s smile”, and she tried her hardest to not cry nowadays if anyone ever mentioned it. 

“You know, our parents weren’t glassmakers, I can’t see through you,” Charlie grumbled from her spot on the couch, gesturing to the TV that her sister was blocking.

“You know, this is my house, you could just leave,” she countered, offering her fakest of smiles.

“You know, Dad pays the rent so it’s not technically yours.”

“Alright, dinner is ready, dinner is ready,” Devin called out, knowing that Charlie had already stepped one toe over the line, desperately trying to keep her from throwing herself fully over the edge.

Charlie popped up to her feet, unfazed by the glare that followed her all the way to the island as she went on to scoop out her pasta. 

Indiana didn’t have the energy to even think about her dad, much less talk about him. Kenneth Cross was a good father when she was little. He was attentive, taught her how to play basketball, how to ride her bike without training wheels. On a paper list, he checked off most of the dad boxes. And then his wife died, and he decided the time was nigh to abandon ship with very little regard for his 16 and 19 year old daughters. But if you asked him, he’d be sure to let you know that he took very good care of his kids, even put up his youngest in a nice New York apartment so she could go to school and not have to work a job. Taking care of things meant throwing money at them, whether it was at work or at home. His best, and only, sign of affection was the direct deposit that hit Indiana’s bank account on the 31st of every month. 

Needless to say, he was a sensitive subject.

She bit back the words she really wanted to spit out and made her way into the kitchen, grabbing her bowl a bit more aggressively than she needed to. As soon as she found her spot back on the counter she stabbed into the soft noodles and shoved them in her mouth, proceeding to burn the shit out of her tongue. 

Lovely.

Devin made small talk as best he could around the awkward tension - he was an only child, and anytime the two sisters fought he tried to fill in the void with anything he could. It always baffled him how the two of them could be pissed one moment, and then back to normal a few seconds later.

“Wanna go shopping tomorrow? And don’t say you have school shit, it’s a Sunday.” Charlie asked.

“A, I always have school shit, and B, I can’t anyways, I’ve got an orientation to do for Buddies.” 

“There’s no way you actually have that much school work to do, I think you’re just trying to avoid us,” she countered. 

“CJ she’s gonna be a doctor, that shit ain’t easy,” Devin piped up, eager to boost his almost sister-in-law up. Indy tried to ignore the little pang of jealousy she always felt when he called her sister that. Charlie Jo. CJ. She’d had her own fair share of nicknames over the years, shortened little versions of her name that everyone liked to use. But Devin was the only one who was allowed to call Charlie CJ, and there was something about the intimacy of it that had Indiana wishing someone was there to give her a cute nickname, just for them.

She held out until Charlie started in on the dishes that she promised to do and then she was headed to her room, social battery depleted. Despite her sister’s doubts, she did always have some form of school work that she could be working on, slowly chipping away at the constant stream of assignments and notes.  She liked to break it down into sections, tackling a certain class each night of the week. Saturdays were her ‘easy’ nights, reserved for reviewing her medical terminology notes and quizzing herself on new terms.

As nerdy as it seemed to anyone else, she actually found it fun. 10 year old her would have thought it was the coolest thing that she actually knew what choleodechojunostomy meant, though she was pretty sure she was never going to actually need to know. 

She was halfway through the abbreviations portion, stuck on the ‘G’ of esophagogastroduodenoscopy when her phone buzzed against her leg. She expected to see a text from Charlie asking her to join in on whatever movie they were watching in the living room, but instead she was met with a new number and an unfamiliar area code - 818. 

Probably spam. She left it alone, moving back to her cards, flipping between as she mumbled them quietly to herself.

“PRN. Pro re nata.”

Buzz

“EEG. Electroencephalography. TIA”

Buzz

“TIA. Transient-”

Buzz

“Jesus,” she huffed, grabbing her phone and swiping it open to her texts, all from that same 818 number.

Hey, Marty gave me your number, I’m your new orientee :)

My name is Grayson btw, probably should have started with that 

She told me to figure out a time with you but I’m p flexible so just let me know

And idk how to get to the pediatric part of the hosp so if you could meet me somewhere else and show me how to get there that would be awesome

Why he couldn’t have sent it all in one text she had no idea, but at least he was nice. She typed back quickly.

Hey! I’m Indiana. We can meet by the front doors if that’s easier, how about 9:30?

She didn’t even have time to pick up her next flashcard before the typing bubble popped back up.

Early riser, I like it. 9:30 is chill, I’ll see you then. Have a good night :)

You too :), she answered, quickly saving his contact as ‘Grayson’ before putting her phone back down on her comforter and diving back into her flashcards. She had 200 more to get through by the end of the night, and all she really wanted to do was get under her covers and go to sleep. By the time she reached the end of the stack, the definitions were just as hard to understand as their latin based counterparts. As soon as she flipped over arthralgia to reveal joint pain, she was moving the pile to her desk, pulling on a t-shirt and curling up in bed.

..............................................................................................................................

Indiana had never been a breakfast eater. She was always too eager to get to school, occasionally running out the door with a granola bar in hand at most at her mom’s request. The trend continued as she got older, though now she used her morning coffee as sustenance for the first few hours of the day. Which was why she found herself walking right back through the glass doors of Jet’s again, a mere 12 hours after her last visit. It smelled like fresh beans and vanilla soy as soon as she made in over the threshold - a comforting smell, familiar and warm. Patrick beamed at her from behind the espresso bar. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off.

“I’m paying today, no arguing,” she called out, giving him a serious look until he mouthed ‘fine’ at her over the bar. Satisfied, she pulled out her phone, surprised to see a text. Grayson.

I’m by the front doors on the left. I know im early so no rush :)

She checked the time at the top of her phone. 9:10.

I’m getting coffee and then I’ll be there

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, contemplating. Was it weird to buy coffee for someone you’d never met? She sent another text anyway.

Want anything?

The bubbles popped back up as she stepped up in line.

Biggest cup of the strongest stuff they’ve got please. I’ll shoot you a Venmo for it

She liked his response and slid her phone back in her pocket before she stepped up to the counter. The barista was a new face, someone that had been hired after she had left.

“What can I get started for you?”

“Can I do a 16 ounce vanilla oat milk latte and a 20 ounce dark roast please?”

“Absolutely, that’ll be-”

“Give her the drip for free,” Patrick interjected. “We don’t charge past employees for drip coffee.”

The barista looked a bit flustered but took the dark roast off anyways, quickly spouting off the total and taking the cash that Indiana handed her. She turned around and poured the dark roast, passing it over with a smile. An older man was sitting in the blue chair when Indiana made her way to the other end of the store, so she settled by the bar instead, watching Patrick pump syrup and steam milk in a bit of a sequenced dance. She missed being behind the bar sometimes, but not enough to justify going back and getting talked down to by shitty customers. 

He finished her latte in record time, only having a spare moment to blow her a kiss before he was right back to the next drink. She didn’t mind - the thought of Grayson waiting on her made her nervous. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t running late. It wasn’t her fault that he liked to show up twenty minutes early to things and she only liked to show up ten minutes early. Ten minutes was reasonable and showed dedication - twenty was a bit excessive. 

The cups kept her hands warm for the three blocks to the hospital, her pace a bit quicker than usual. She kept her eyes peeled for someone who looked like a Grayson once she made it. A tall, lanky man passed by her, headed towards the doors, but he didn’t seem like he was looking for anyone. She remembered the text. Front doors, to the left.

Sure enough, there was someone sitting alone.

He took up about half of the bench, his shoulders broad under a charcoal gray sweater that went well with the olive green of his pants. He looked well put together - a bit intimidating, but nice enough to send someone a have a good night text. He looked like he could be a Grayson. He must have felt her watching him, because he lifted his eyes from his phone and looked directly at her, taking in the two coffee cups in her hands with a smile.

“Indiana?”

His voice was deep, a bit commanding. It made her hesitate for some reason, panic just barely. “Uh yeah, that’s me.” Stupid.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Grayson.”

[sneyrwrites]

hi! can i request for a levi x reader scenario where the reader is a really powerful titan shifter and levi finds out about it. slight angst and fluff would be great. im apologize if this was confusing, this is my first time requesting anything.

Don’t worry! It’s perfectly fine, and this was so fun to write i went a little overboard and this ended much longer than what i intended.

Also, this has spoilers of the last chapters of season 1, specifically, when the female titan appears!  if you haven’t got there yet, feel free to send another ask letting me know and I’ll work on a spoiler free one.

Thank u for requesting! xx

|Wordcount: 3183 | |Warnings: Curse, spoilers.| 

“TRUST”  TITAN SHIFTER!READER X LEVI ACKERMAN

Well... things escalated quickly.

As if being a titan shifter yourself wasn’t enough, now you were in Levi’s squad and needed to protect Eren, another titan shifter like yourself. Being in the trial traumatized you, proving your fears were funded. They wanted to open him up like a fish. You wouldn’t expose your integrity like that.

Honesty was overrated.

How could you explain the fact that you couldn’t remember since when or how you got the power? You knew as much as they did about how the shift worked, being as lost as Eren was with that part of yourself. In fact, before Eren Showed up you’d thought you were one of a kind, an oddity meant to be feared, cursed to hide your real potential.

The fear of what they could do to you was enough to not share your abilities with Erwin, and when the new kid, came around you were too deep into the lie to just be like “Oh hey, by the way I’m also a titan shifter and I stood in the sidelines as hundreds of my comrades died without helping... I’m not selfish at all haha... Please don’t kill me.”

You feared what Levi would do if he found out, he’ll hate you for sure. The trust could never be earned again, he’ll be too hurt. The late night chess and tea encounters you had with him would be lost forever. You’ll be lucky if he didn’t decapitate you himself, titans had taken everything away from him after all.

The expedition was going like normal at first.

You were riding in between Nifa and Eren, wondering who would make it out alive. You trusted your squad, and you knew they were going to make it, but the people your were acquainted from other teams were in danger, and a flash of jealousy surprised you, Eren could shift if he wanted to, but you had to settle for just watching the massacre, trying to fight and save whoever you could with only those weak as fuck swords.

Your eyes went to Levi riding ahead of you, his back straight with a confidence only someone extremely strong and brave had. You admire him, and worked hard to improve inspiration by his example, your wounds heald so the only thing you had to fear was your secret being discovered.

But even so, the stench of fear was in the air, specially coming from the new recruits, the overall mood was thick and heavy, and there was also the fact that no one knew what was the mission in real life, the only thing we could do really was trust our superiors.

An hour into the expedition launched a guy from another regiment came to give the reports. You were too busy looking at the green flares shooting up in the sky as to know what he said, and for Eren’s expression you didn’t want to know either. Petra went away to carry the message under Levi’s commands and as soon as she left black smoke rose to the clouds.

An eccentric.

Dread collied in your stomach as you reached for your gun to shoot a new signal and noticed a forest of giant trees up ahead. Was Erwin really going to make you go through that titan’s den? What was going on?

The sun was blocked by the high treetops, and you and your squad made your way through the somber trail- Your exact thoughts and confusion was clear in your teammates faces, as Eren complained to Levi about the whole situation.

The new kid looked towards you, fear pooling in his green eyes, and you tried to look as calm and composed as you could, but the sweat was pearling your forehead, so it wasn’t convincing. You didn’t like the situation one bit. Turning your head to the front, you called Levi’s attention.

“Captain Levi...” You started, he turned to you and his expression softened a little, but a few tense lines remained. “Wh...” Your question was cut short by the sound of a shot, a black trail ascending behind your back. You were in deep shit.

“Take out your swords. Whatever is coming will appear all of the sudden.” Eren’s fear was almost palpable now, and as you turned to observe the signal once more you saw it.

A female titan coming from the side.

“Captain! We need to switch!” Petra’s plea to leave the horses behind to have a better chance was full of terror, but Levi didn’t react, not a single muscle constricting.

The female titan broke through a bark and a piece scared your horse, almost hitting you.

“(Y/n)!” Levi shouted, turning to you.

Once you calmed your horse down enough to have control over it, you resumed your escape, a few feet behind. Encouraging the frightened animal you tried to smile at Levi, letting him know you were okay, but his eyes were back to the front, a scowl in his features.

Looking behind you, you could see the short distance you had between the female titan and yourself. If you kept that pace she was going to catch you. And she wasn’t just an eccentric. She was just like Eren and yourself. You could see it in her focused eyes as she grabbed cables, turning and squishing your partners' bodies as if they were made of nothing but clay. An urge to transform and rip the bitch’s head off was so strong it was almost hurting you, but you had to believe in the capability’s of your commander. He must have a plan, and you and your freak power wasn’t taking into consideration. It was better to stay out of it.

But she kicked your fucking horse.

Your body flew across the air, and you could hear Petra and Oolo screaming your name, but you collided against a tree and the sound of something breaking muffled their voices, the crack reverberating into your very soul. As you were Falling to the hard floor, the only thing that was on your mind was your squad, she was about to get them and for once you were sure it was worth the sacrifice if it meant they would survive.

Rolling to your side you saw Levi’s shot a flare and the sound of an explosion made your ears ring.

That was the plan all along? To catch the fucking titan!? And to think you almost blow your cover for nothing. Fucking Erwin and his secrecy.

You tried to get up, but pain shot through your arm. For sure it was broken, and to make it worse the bone was sticking out. It would be fine in a few moments, not being that serious of a wound, but you were dangerously close to the rest of the surveys. If they saw you like that it might raise suspicions.

Sucking in a breath, you grabbed your wrist and pulled to adjust the bone back in place. The crunch and the stabbing pain making you groan The steam started to raise from the wound and a sigh came out of your mouth, the skin in your arm starting to regenerate .

“(Y/n)...?” Levi’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and the fear nestled in your throat, constricting it. You hide your arm behind your back in a desperate and pathetic attempt to hide the truth.

You turned to him and wished you never saw him in that state. His eyes open and lost, confusion misting over his face. You looked at him fora couple of seconds, and you knew he had seen, the deep frown and his slack mouth were a clear indicative. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

“What the fuck!?” He said, drawing his blades out, the pain of betrayal flashing across his eyes. Shame rushed trough you, and your heart broke at the thought of him being disappointed. That was the last thing you wanted, but still managed to do it in your own incompetence. “You’re one of them?”

Levi took a step forward raising his sword, but you turned around and took off, incapable of stand for another moment the broken look he was giving you, his rushed footsteps followed after you. Tears slipped out of your eyes and without looking back you shot your Odm gear at the farther tree you could and allowed the pressure of the gas take you away from him and from the people you called home. Too afraid to explain yourself to them..

Levi didn’t follow after you.

You had screwed up, and badly. If only you had been honest from the beginning maybe this would’ve turned out better than it did.

Why were you even scared? Levi was trustworthy and a logical person, the fear wasn’t going to phase him enough to kill you without hearing an explanation.

Sitting on top of a branch high enough for no one to see you, you left the faucet open, and the tears fell free, sobs rocking your body. You had lost everything in only a second of careless behaviour, and now you couldn’t go back home. There was nothing left for you.

Time was lost to you, but it couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes, when your weeping session was interrupted by a terrified scream.

“Petra!” Oolo’s voice got to your ears, 

Gunther and Eld could no longer tease you about your crush on some mystery man

Everything was lost in such a short amount of time.

The Tree you were sitting on trembled, and absentmindedly you looked down to its base, the smiles of your squad still on your mind.

Eren’s half head had rolled to the base.

The sight detonated something within you, almost as if your soul had broken in half, and now someone was triturating it into a million more.

A scream that would put any Banshee to shame erupted from somewhere deep in your core. Your hands grasping your hair and pulling, trying to relief in someway the anguish you were feeling.

You were going to kill her, it was all her fault. You’ve lost everything because of her.

The sharp pain on your scalp was followed by a burning hot sensation washing over you. Only half conscious of what was happening, still too shocked to realize just how things got out of hand. You got up from the floor.

When did you fall? You couldn’t remember.

Steam rose from the severed head. A lingering touch of conciousness was still present, and you felt the failure, your teammates efforts had been in vain, and you couldn’t help them in time.

Your broken cry scared the birds away, and with a blood thirst you’ve never felt before you took off, in search of the female titan.

Zooming through trees, you ran in the direction the head came from. And soon you saw her trying to run away. Eren was nowhere to be found, and that only fuel you.

You didn’t stop once you reached her, instead deciding it was best to send both of your bodies to the floor in a mess of wrestling limbs. Managing to get her under you, your fist collided against her body. 

You were trying to feel anything, even if only a tingle of pain, to dissipate your frustration and grief, but the stupid titan’s body was like a protective shield.

You roared and in a desperate attempt you head-butted her, skulls cracking on impact.

The blonde titan looked at you with open and scared blue eyes, now sporting an evident bent in her forehead. If she was trying to get some kind of mercy, it was not going to happen, not after she obliterated your friends like they were just bugs, not even worthy of a second glance.

Twisting and turning behind your weight, she was desperately trying to get up, and twisting her hips she managed to throw your body away. But it was not the end. You were so lost to the pain than once you regained your balance you grabbed her once more. 

Standing behind her, your fingers grasped her jaw, and you pulled up, trying to return the favor of what she did to Eren. Muscles ripped because of the brute force, as she desperately tried to claw at your arms. As you had her mouth open, you were going to keep going until you rip her to shreds, put the sight of two horrified people stopped your movements. 

Your body locked up when you and Levi made eye contact, Mikasa by his side staring horrified at you. You were barely aware of the titan, still thrashing against your arms, but there was no use, you were too strong and you had the upper hand. 

In a flash Levi strapped one of his hooks into the tree next to your head and dived into the female titan’s mouth, retrieving Eren’s body covered in filthy saliva. He then went back to where Mikasa was, but his eyes never left your body. 

Your conciousness came back when his steel orbs caught your attention, and shame rushed through your body. There was no way you’ll confront Levi after he saw you as a titan. Mikasa grabbed Eren’s body in her arms, but you didn’t wait around to see how things would turn out. 

Turning around you sprinted to the exit of the woods, once you were out, there was no way for him to catch in the open field without his ODM.

“Wait!” Levi’s screamed, but that didn’t stop you at all.

You had almost made it, but suddenly the world titled and your titan form fell face first into the ground. In that moment whatever remainded of conciousness you had abbandoned you,  the las thing in your mind was Levi’s dissapointed look before everything dissapeard.

The light was annoyingly disrupting your slumber.

A groan left your lips, eyes still closed. Who opened your curtains? You always kept them close to prevent a thing like this from happening. As you tried to sit up on the bed, you couldn’t feel your forearms at all. That was weird.

“I see you woke up” Someone’s voice alerted you, and the sleepiness flew out the window.

Opening your eyes, you noticed Levi leaning against the wall in front of you. His face like stone, not a single emotion coming out of him. His storm grey eyes locked on yours, staring with an intensity that rose the hair in your neck.

Trying once more to get up you found yourself incapable. You looked at him in disbelief of his audacity.

“You fucking chopped my arms out!? What the actual fuck Levi!?” Indignation sparked in your chest, how dare he? You were planning on disappearing forever, finally letting the Survey Corps in peace.

“Was it all a lie?” The hurt in his voice stopped you mid-sentence, his words showed what his face didn’t, and it broke your soul a little bit more. 

You didn’t respond, your eyes downcast. He took a step towards you, leaving his spot at the wall. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you tensed up at his proximity.

“I asked you a question... Was it all a lie cadet?”  He used his authority, the threat implied in his sentence. "(Y/N)… why?” 

“It scared me… " You whispered, looking up at his impassive face. “I don’t know how I got it, and I thought… I don’t know.” You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but it was no use. The tears would fall soon if this conversation was to continue.

“So you don’t trust me?” He claimed, an eyebrow rising in questioning.

“Don’t be dumb.” You protested, there was no use in being formal and respectful with him at the moment. “I’ve followed your ass to death a thousand times. You know more about me than myself. I told you I was scared, you’re not in charge, if someone found out before Eren showed up I was going to be executed. Just look at what happened in the court room. ”

Exasperated, Levi uncrossed his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose, almost as if he was imploring for patience. His voice was clipped and harsh when he spoke again.

“You surely don’t trust me if you thought I would allow that dumbass. I would’ve ended whoever attempted to harm you.” 

 A breath hitching in your throat, surprise sucker punching you in the gut. But ten times more shocking than his confession was the fact of him circling you with his arms.

His hands found the back of your head, and he guided your head against his chest. The position was surely not comfortable for him, standing  next to the bed and leaning over, but still, he didn’t let go. His hand caressed your hair, and the tenderness of his touch made you cry again.  Levi’s grip on you tightened, and he stayed quiet, as you let all the stress and fear leave your body in the form of tears.

You wanted to hug him back so badly, but because of your lack of arms you couldn’t do it. Once the sobs stopped, he let go of your body. His eyes scanning your red eyes and wet cheeks. You wanted to wipe your tears, so he wouldn’t see them, but it was impossible at the moment, your hands still not regenerated.

“I’m sorry about your arms. But I couldn’t let you go away like that.” He sounded ashamed, which was a kind of out of character of him. Levi’s icy fingers caressed your cheeks, as he caught a stray droplet that was sliding down your face." Erwin wants to see you in his office, but I’ll take you there when your arms grow back… Would that make you feel safer?.”  He asked, concerned.

“Yeah… actually that would help.” Going face to face with the commander who you’ve been lying to for years, without a way of defending yourself was scary. 

“All right.” He conceded.

As if it was the most common thing in the world Levi moved the covers away and sat by my side. A blush crept up your neck at the close proximity.

“What are you doing!?”  You asked, flustered. Since when was the stoic captain so comfortable being in someone else’s personal space?

“Shut up. After everything that happened, the least you could do is let me rest. It’s been over 48 hours since I had a nap.” He laid down and pulled the covers up to our shoulders.  “I’ll be more at ease if I monitor you, just in case someone tries something funny… Unless you’re opposed to the idea?” His eyes bore into your own, making the temperature of the room rise a few degrees. What were you supposed to reply? Shaking your head no you settled next to him, looking at the roof as you tried to ignore Levi’s proximity, pleading your heart to slow down, afraid he might  hear it. 

“Good.” He answered, closing his eyes  “Oh, and (Y/n)… I’ll always have your back,  you can trust me so don’t lie to me again. Got it?” 

He turned around after that, his back now to you. 

Your heart sped up even more, and the feelings for Levi you tried to hide for such a long time resurfaced. And, no matter what his cold demanor was, at moments like this you could tell he cared for you too. 

You knew you’ll be all right if he was on your side. 

✘ Masterlist

[solynaceawrites]

The ABCs of Demonology [3]: Cum

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Tags: NSFW Alphabet, Drabble Collection, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship, Aftercare Chapters: 3/26 Summary: A series of drabbles based on the-coldest-goodbye’s NSFW Alphabet template. Each drabble has a different theme, but all of them star Dante Sparda.

WARNING: This chapter contains Dante in his SDT form. If that is something you are uncomfortable with, please skip this entry!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Holy shit.”

It’s all you can think to say, given your current situation. A job gone wrong has left Dante in a bit of a predicament, trapped in his Sin Devil Trigger with no way to phase back, and both of you had been searching through what little occult tomes you’d managed to procure over the years since he’d gotten back. Your body, however, had reminded you that the post hunt ritual of him tearing your clothes off in his haste to get his dick inside you had been interrupted, so, with a sheepish sort of wave, you’d gone to take a shower, where you’d gotten yourself off, hoping a small bit of release would make it easier to concentrate instead of focusing on all of the wrong things. Like how firm his ass is, or the fact that he towers over you more now than ever, or that rough, ridged tongue you’d caught glimpses of as he did his best to speak with a maw not made for doing it.

What you’d forgotten was that his sense of smell, already better than a human’s, was sharpened to an insane degree whenever he shifted forms. All of his senses were. Which meant, of course, that he’d been well aware of exactly what you’d been doing, and you’d returned to the shop to find him panting, the desk in splinters from his claws digging into it, his tongue all but lolling out of his mouth as if tasting the air. Holy shit, indeed, and more so when you caught sight of the massive cock jutting from between his legs, thick and ridged and glowing the same molten color of his eyes. You know it will not, in any circumstance, fit in you without a hell of a lot of prep and more than a few prayers.

That doesn’t stop your mouth from watering with anticipation.

His breath leaves him in a rasped purr as you step closer, a hand the size of your head reaching out for you. “Big boy,” you murmur, your gaze locked on the fluid streaming steadily from his length. It seems thicker than normal, and you want, in that moment, more than anything, to taste it, but that raises the question of how. On a good day, going down on Dante leaves your jaw aching. The size he is now, you doubt that more than the head will fit, though, with how tall he is now, at least you won’t have to kneel down to do it. 

He catches you by the waist, hoisting you up to eye-level and bending a knee for you to balance on as his tongue laves over your neck up to your cheek. The sensation is strange, but not unpleasant, and you’re already spinning into thoughts of what it would feel like between your legs, pressing to your clit, or running over your nipples. When it nudges your lips, you part them, and you can’t help but moan as the spiced flavor of him fills your mouth when you suck on it. Dante grunts, curling the muscle to lick over your teeth until you’re panting and squirming in his grip, your clothes suddenly too hot and too tight against your sensitive skin. Only then does he break the kiss to return to your throat, and the graze of his fangs makes you gasp. Sure, you and Dante have played around with his Devil Trigger before, but this? You don’t know that you’ve ever wanted him this badly.

“Dante,” you whine, jolting when his tongue wraps around your breast over your shirt. “Dante, let me down. I want to . . .”

A low rumble resonates from his chest, but he does as you’ve asked. The moment your feet touch the floor, you’re stripping, uncaring where your clothes wind up as long as they’re not on you, and his cock twitches with each inch of skin you reveal to him. You shuck your panties off your hips and step forward, pushing at his stomach. “Sit.”

Down he goes, until he’s on the ground, and you follow, crawling between thighs that could crush you without any trouble at all, groaning when his cock nudges your cheek. Dante’s eyes are white-hot as he watches you get settled; normally you’d dive right in, but you feel like getting acquainted with this new him first, so you take a few minutes to explore. Up close, you can see the slit in his plating where his length emerges and the way the tip flares out and down and the ridges that cover it and, down at the base, a faint protrusion that you’re pretty sure would press on your clit nicely if you could ever fit enough of him within you to get it there. He doesn’t rush you, though you can hear how ragged his breathing grows the longer you touch him, and, satisfied—for now—you lean up to press your lips to the weeping head.

The flavor that explodes across your tongue is unlike any other: rich and heady, with a faint something you can’t quite name. What surprises you more than how potent it is, however, is the slight tingling that spreads along your mouth and the utterly obscene amount of slick that slips over your thighs. Is he secreting a fucking aphrodisiac?

Whatever it is, it makes fitting the first few inches much easier. You’re pulling away to draw a deep breath, determined to get as much of him as you can, when Dante grabs you again, and you yelp as he manhandles you easily until he’s got your thighs wrapped around his head. The first pass of his tongue over your slit has you moaning, your hands scrabbling over his stomach. It’s everything you hoped for and more, the friction when he dips it between your folds to run over your clit delicious; he pauses there, his hips shifting so his cock nudges your lips, and you open eagerly to let him slide between, the strain easier to bear at this angle. 

You’re more than happy to let him take the lead. He fucks your mouth with his length and your sex with his tongue, and the more of his precum you swallow, the more relaxed and aroused you get, until you’re teetering on the brink of overstimulation. Every inch of you is sensitive, from your throbbing clit to your tender nipples, and your orgasm takes you utterly by surprise when it hits, tearing a cry from your throat that’s muffled by his flesh as it lashes over you in wave after wave of bliss. Dante growls, his claws digging into your backside, and his hips take on a desperate pace seconds before the first rush of his seed fills your mouth.

And, holy fuck, there’s so much.

It floods your throat, forcing you to draw back to swallow and breathe, and the rest coats your neck, your chest, his stomach, pooling and dripping in streams already going sticky in the chill air of the shop. It’s the most you’ve ever seen from him, even in his devil form, and you shift to sit on his chest and reach to take his cock in your hands, pumping as it continues to coat his abdomen, licking your lips when some of it splatters on your thighs. A full minute goes by with him twisting beneath you, and by the time he’s done, you’re certain you’re going to have to scrub the floors just to be safe, and you’re turning to make that quip when electricity crackles against your skin. Then the length in your grasp is flesh, the muscles beneath you firm but definitely human, and you laugh softly as Dante groans, swatting lightly at your rear.

“Jesus fuck,” he mumbles. “You alright, darlin’? I didn’t realize . . . Well, it’s, uh . . .”

“Good thing I got undressed,” you tease. “Have you done this before? Feel like I would have noticed that many towels getting dirty.”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Didn’t even know I could, if I’m honest. You sure you’re alright? I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

Grinning, you move so you’re facing him, your hands braced on either side of his head. His familiar baby blues trail over your face and down your chest, his pupils dilating at the sight of the mess he’s made of you. “Nope,” you declare. “In face, that was really, really hot. Can we do it again?”

He runs a finger through the fluid drying on your skin, his nostrils flaring with what you recognize as desire. “You want to?”

“Mm-hm.” You rock your hips, dragging your slit over his cock, which is still hard. “Right now, in fact.”

His eyes take on a red shine as he pushes up to his elbows. “Greedy,” he clicks his tongue, “but who am I to deny ya?”

Dante rolls you both, pinning you beneath him as his mouth claims yours, and you suck on his tongue eagerly, hoping no one decides to call for a few days.

[headfulloffantasy]

How to cure a soul

Disclaimer: heavy illness, near death experience, heavy angst Pairing: Reed900 Setting: Human!AU, Hospital!AU, sickfic

@definietlynotsatan inspired me with a headcanon about Doctor!Nines and Patient!Gavin a while back and I just had to write something for it. Thank you so much for the inspiration! This is just something like a draft, but I hope you all like it.

Nines is the best doctor in his hospital. His reputation is widely known, they say nobody has died under his care before. What they don't know is that it's because he is ruthless and only focused on his statistic. He seems really friendly on the outside, but he doesn't really care about his patients or their fates. When he notices that a case is hopeless, he will ditch it and let somebody else take over so that it doesn't show as a death on his record sheet.

Then one day, he gets a patient whose healing potential isn't that bad, but the idiot is really stubborn and uncooperative, a Detective injured on the job. Gavin looks right through Nines' facade and sees that he isn't really invested in Gavin aside from curing him. So he avoids some of the treatment and sabotages Nines along the way, refusing to eat or pulling out tubes because the beeping is getting on his nerves. His only agenda is to piss off Nines as much as possible. Gavin himself just wants to be left alone, he feels lonely and hopeless despite Tina visiting sometimes. Nines is furious of course, how does this jerk dare to act against the best doctor's advises?! It's almost like he doesn't want to get better!

Nines tries to ditch Gavin's case at some point, but he isn't allowed to.

"Jeffrey, how am I supposed to heal someone that doesn't want to be healed?! This is just pointless!"

"I don't know, come up with something for god’s sake! He is the Cyberlife CEO's brother, we are paid a shit ton of money, but for that I have to assign him my best doctor! That's you, Nines. I don't care how you do it, but do it. Heal his soul first, convince him. Make him want to get better."

"Heal his soul, are you kidding me, Jeffrey?!"

"Do I look like I am?"

Nines has to continue looking after Detective Reed. That asshole is really getting on his nerves, if he won’t get better soon, he will fuck up the doctor’s record.

One time, Gavin refuses to eat again and Nines yells at him to shove that food in his mouth already.

"What are you going to do, doctor? Force me to? That wouldn't be good for my healing process, would it?"

Nines desperately tries to calm down and not strangle the stubborn idiot with his stethoscope. When he is outside, he tries some of the hospital food and finds out that it tastes horrible. No wonder Gavin was refusing to eat that shit. When he sees Tina visit someday, he notices a special brand of chocolate bars she brings with her. So the following day, Nines buys one of them and gifts it to Gavin, who at first is really suspicious but then he accepts it.

As the time passes, Gavin manages to open Nines' eyes for the situation of his patients more while Gavin himself becomes calmer and more cooperative. They establish this habit of Nines smuggling in food from outside and he will spend his lunch break in Gavin's room, number 87. At first it is to monitor his patient's eating habit, but soon it becomes his favourite part of the day. They spend their lunch together, sometimes with sushi because Gavin loves it, sometimes with something else, trying out all food opportunities around the hospital. Gavin starts to get better, he eats and accepts treatment. One day, Nines is on his way to a meeting that could be important to him and his career. But as he walks down the hallway, he passes Gavin's room and sees that the man is crying. Silent and it's not obvious at first sight, yet Nines knows him by now. When he enters, Gavin quickly sniffles and wipes away the tears.

"I... have an allergy."

Nines just sits down on the edge of his bed.

"I know your clinical record, Gavin. You don't have any allergies."

That gets both of them smiling a bit.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" The doctor thinks about it, but then he surprises himself. "Nothing important. Now tell me what's up."

Gavin opens up to him and tells him that he feels lonely. He has a hard time falling asleep due to anxiety. Nines had noticed the dark circles under the man's eyes. Gavin just rambles on and Nines listens, but when the man tears up again, he can't help but reach out and pull Gavin into his arms. He probably shouldn't be doing this as the man is his patient, but fuck it. To distract him, Nines asks about Gavin's life and he gladly tells about his cat and life outside of the hospital and his past. After some time, the Detective gets tired and falls asleep under Nines’ watch. The medical leaves, but he comes back the next day. He works way over his shifts anyway, so he can spend the evening just as well in Gavin's room and it isn’t unusal anymore to find the doctor in room number 87. They will talk and Nines stays until his patient falls asleep, so he doesn’t have to be alone anymore. Every time Gavin wakes up, there is a chocolate bar or a note next to his bed.

Every now and then they will go on a walk outside, though never far as Gavin is still weak. Nines starts to worry, because yes, he accepts Nines' help now, but somehow he isn't really getting better. Losing weight instead of gaining. Gavin doesn't seem to mind, he's just happy to get out of his hospital bed from time to time. They get closer and closer until one day, Gavin decides to kiss Nines.

“Stop frowning and kiss me.”

The medical complies gladly and leans down for their lips to meet, clinging to Gavin with his dear life. He has fallen so hard for that stubborn idiot, the man is the first person he is genuinely worried about. Nines knows he has to find a way to heal Gavin, this time for him as a person and not as a number on Nines' record sheet. But he feels like his repertoire is at its end. Gavin tries to calm him of course and Nines wants to believe him, but there still is that feeling in his stomach. He feels so guilty because he knows that a few months back, he would have ditched Gavin's case now.

The next day Nines comes to work and wants to visit Gavin in his room to say good morning, though when he enters, he immediately sees the red alarm in one of the rooms. Number 87. The blood freezes in his veins.

Nines runs there as fast as he can and when he enters, the room is already full of medical staff trying to revive the man he grew to love. The doctor almost can't bear the sight of Gavin's limp body getting electroshocked and that horrible sound of a heart flatlining.

Nines rushes towards Gavin and pushes away the people standing around the bed. He takes over and while trying to revive Gavin, he screams at him that he isn't allowed to leave, that he can't leave Nines behind. Tears run down his face and cloud his vision.

“Open your eyes, Gavin, please! You- you can’t leave me like this! Come back to me, I beg you!”

And Gavin does. He comes back to life with a sharp inhale and coughs while the screen slowly goes back to steady beeps. Nines can't hold himself back from pulling the man into his arms and he weeps like a child. There are shaky arms wrapping around him, drawing soothing circles on his back. Of course Gavin would care for him, even though the Detective just barely escaped death.

At a control screening, they find out that Gavin has a tumour that had been unnoticed before. That's what impeded his healing process and ate away at him. The other doctors offer him a chemotherapy, but it's his decision to make. Gavin asks them to leave Nines and him alone, because he sees how stunned the other is looking. He knows the percentages for recovering from cancer. He has treated this condition all his life.

"Hey Nines, you okay?"

Nines can't suppress the small sad smile. Gavin is always caring for others first, although it should be Nines supporting the Detective now and not the other way around. He can’t help the panic creeping up in him though and his hands are shaking. Immense guilt rolls over him, mixed with overwhelming fear and sorrow. The medical knows he would have ditched Gavin's case here a few months back as he would see it hopeless. A hopeless case not worth looking into more. But now he wants to stay and fight and he begs Gavin to fight as well. The Detective hugs him tight when he starts crying again.

"Nines, I want to go home-"

"No, Gavin, no, please don't do that to me, I almost lost you once, I can't ... I just can't-" Gavin interrupts him with pressing his lips on Nines’. The contact immediately soothes the taller man and he melts into the kiss, salty from his own tears.

"I will fight, don't worry. I will do everything you say, no matter how much it sucks. But I want to get home, Nines. I am sick of hospitals."

That is something the doctor can accept. They decide that with Nines’ help, Gavin can get back home and come to the hospital to get his treatment. Nines stays with him and basically moves in to assist the Detective with his daily tasks. Gavin introduces him to his cat he had told him so much about. Nines takes time off to care for the Detective and help him at home and to get to where he has to be. As he never really took a vacation before, the doctor has a lot of days left and Fowler helps him get off from work for the duration of Gavin needing help.

So the treatment goes on and Nines stays.

They become a real couple, going through good phases and really shitty ones. But Gavin doesn't have to go through them alone anymore. Nines cooks for him, cares for the cat, they will watch movies all day snuggling in bed and of course Nines helps him when shit gets bad and Gavin gets sick. But they make it through it together. And slowly but steady, Gavin gets better, becoming stronger and gaining weight day by day. Despite puking and the side effects that freaking suck, Gavin is the happiest he has been in a long time. There is someone holding him at night, someone he wakes up to in the morning, snoring next to him. He is so in love that he feels like he can get through everything. Yes, the rest sucks and sometimes he doesn't stop cursing at how miserable he feels. But Nines is right there with him.

They are on a good way and Gavin gets better and better, beating the cancer. His hair is slowly growing back and Nines is really fascinated. Yes, he knew the man used to have a beard, but he never knew how HAIRY Gavin was. Scruff along his jaw and cheeks, soft fluff on chest, arms, legs, head and a bit on his stomach. Nines adores it, always letting his palm caress over the flimsy hair when they lie in bed. It makes Gavin laugh and he tilts his head to place a gentle kiss on Nines’ lips.

"Yes, I am prickly, not as baby butt smooth as you are." the Detective teases with a weird wink.

Nines has to admit that this was exactly the side of Gavin he fell so hard for. His rough but kind personality, the charm of all his sharp edges. With a swift move, the Detective turns them around, arms pulling Nines closer. He has regained a lot of strength over the last weeks and Nines feels himself blush at how easy the man shifts him around. He lets his fingers roam through the short strands of hair on Gavin's head and the Detective closes his eyes with a pleased hum.

"I know." Nines whispers as their hands lace together. "And I love it. I love you."

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter thirteen

Closing in on the end now!! I’m excited but nervous for this to end bc I honestly don’t know what I’ll do with my time next. Most of my free time has been dedicated to this fic so I’m going to be looking for new ideas here soon. Hope y’all enjoy and buckle up cause this chapter is a long one!

Watching Ainsley back on the newscast is a welcome normal to Jessica’s monotonous day. With Malcolm and Gil throwing themselves into investigating officers, she was put essentially on complete lockdown in Gil’s apartment. With Dani and JT cycling as her watchers, they feel more comfortable leaving. It’s irritating but the way Malcolm relaxes, knowing she’s safe. She does it for him.

“The search for the Needle’s Eye continues,” Ainsley rattles off, eyes disconnected from the words. It’s a tactic Jessica admired and feared when she was able to talk about such horrific things when not letting them in at all. Once on camera her face would clear, a determined one carrying over. “The officers in charge of the case are investigating a possible lead into Beverly Construction, where a body has been discovered. Police believe the man, identified to be Jason Carter, is one of the killers.” Ainsley stops, suddenly getting a far off look. Jessica knows she’s listening to someone in her ear. From the emotions that flash over her face in that split second she already knows what comes next. First is the bitter anger, then curiosity that blossoms into interest, all before she schools her face again. “Hold on a second, we have Dr. Martin Whitly, otherwise known as the surgeon dialing in. Dr. Whitly has provided insight into multiple investigations so it will be interesting to see what he makes of this new killer on the scene.”

Jessica braces herself for the impact that his voice will bring. It doesn’t help. Not for what happens next.

“He’s coming.” The voice on the other end of the call sends ice down her spine. It’s gruff, far from the animated speech of Martin. Ainsley’s face pales on the screen. She knows just as well as Jessica who is on the other side of this call.

“Who is this?” She tries to ask in her best investigative tone but the tremor shakes. It’s the first time she’s even seen her phased. Jessica must have made some kind of noise, deep from the back of her throat because the door opens behind her.

“Mrs. Whitly?” Dani stops in the doorway, eyes falling on the television.

“You brood of vipers, how can you, being evil, speak what is good?”

“Is that?” A few more steps and Dani is beside the couch, her phone in her hand frantically texting.

“Who is this?” Ainsley asks again, firmer.

“Do you know where your son is?” Just like that the floor goes out from under her feet. The call ends abruptly with Ainsley staring at the camera in horror and fury. The blonde curls bounce when she snaps her head around to someone off screen and the channel cuts to commercials.

“Mrs. Whitly.” Dani whispers, like she’s ready approaching an active bomb. Jessica’s heart thuds too quickly in her chest and they both jump when her phone begins ringing.

Claremont Psychiatric, the screen reads. Before Dani can make a move for it Jessica answers. She swallows, ready to do anything the person on the other line tells her. Anything to protect her son. He doesn’t deserve to face what she had. He’d been through more than enough.

“Jessie.” Martin’s voice calls out from the line, tense and thin. He begins rattling but she can’t hear him over the static filling her mind. All the words he spits out at rapid speed don’t even reach her as she stares blankly at the TV. Only one thought comes to her, so lost among the white noise.

He sounds terrified.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dani clutches the wheel tight in her grip, eyes casting to Mrs. Whitly. The silence in the car is a far too familiar one. Picking up the Whitlys when something terrible happens to Malcolm seems like it’s a part of her job description. Normally it’s Ainsley who fills the quiet with the unending questions one would expect from a journalist.

This is heavy, oppressive. She can see Mrs. Whitly pulling the bag closer to her with every turn of the car.

She doesn’t blame the anxiety. They’re on their way to Claremont. The Surgeon made her own skin crawl the first time she met him. But Claremont employees were the last ones to see Malcolm, according to the calls. She needs to talk to Dr. Whitly, he could have seen something. If Malcolm was nervous before, had he known he was being followed, anything. She almost feels sorry for her watching dread turn her face pale.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Her suspicions are confirmed the second her ringtone blares again. To Mrs. Whitly’s credit, she doesn’t immediately reach for her phone to answer it again. Rather, she looks to Dani after she reads the number holding it to her.

It’s marked as unknown, but in their area. It could just be a spam caller, but something tells Dani the Whitly’s don’t really have that problem. When you have enough money you can make the small nuisances of life disappear.

“Put it on speaker.” She tells Jessica, only diverting her eyes from the road for a second to make sure she understands. “We’re tracking the calls on both your phone and Ainsley’s. Keep him talking. If we can get a location pinned on him, we’ll be able to find Malcolm.” She nods, swallowing. 

The line crackles to life with a monotonous threat. “8640 Westshire Avenue. Come alone.” The call ends and Dani can see Mrs. Whitly’s hands shaking. Her mind flashes to Malcolm and she switches lanes. Abandoning the path to Claremont she speeds up towards the address. Westshire Avenue is a line of mostly abandoned warehouses, they’ve gotten calls there more than a few times. It doesn’t make her feel good about Malcolm’s chances. It’s remote. Quiet.

And the way Mrs. Whitly holds herself sitting a little too straight, she knows exactly where they’re going too. Her eyes fall to her lap, her hands white knuckled on the bag again. She recognizes the grip, having seen it too many times in suspects weighing their chances.

“What’s in the purse?” Dani asks slowly. She dreads the question but the way that she guards it, being extra careful that it doesn’t tip or shuffle. She knows. Out the corner of her eye she watches her flinch. She feigns innocence, not well. “How’d you get it?” She thinks for a moment, and the realization settles. “Malcolm.” It makes sense. They know she has a registered firearm. Malcolm would have grabbed it the night he and Edrisa went to pack her things. Extra protection. He wouldn’t take the chance if something went wrong with her or JT. That’s why he was more willing to leave back to the precinct without taking her with them. Knowing that she can protect herself would put him at ease.

He should have told them.

She pulls the car over turning to her. “What are you doing?”

“Give me the gun.” Dani holds a hand out but Jessica’s cover her purse. She tilts her head with a sigh. “Please. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Doesn’t it.” She straightens, a furious look shining in the dim light. “He took my son. Malcolm had nothing to do with this.”

“Neither did you.”

“But it had all to do with Martin.” She shakes her head not meeting her gaze. Dani knows she’s blinking away the tears. “I should have gotten it over with when I had the chance.” Dani’s head tilts, eyes widening for a split second. It was a small confession but one that set off so many alarms in her head. She almost asks what she means by that when she remembers.

The surgeon had been stabbed, supposedly by the woman across from her to protect an innocent’s life.

Looking at her now, Dani knows that isn’t what happened.

“I could turn this car around. Take you back to the station.” She threatens.

“You won’t.” The woman’s voice wavers with uncertainty. “Malcolm, he’s your friend. You won’t take that risk.” Dani runs her tongue along the back of her teeth, setting her jaw with determination. They are running out of time. “If Gil hadn’t seen the news, if he didn’t know. You’re telling me you wouldn’t run in as soon as you got there to save my son?”

She can’t answer that. Not truthfully, at least. She has, a dozen times, run after Malcolm. Running the numbers in her head. Calculating every single risk to grab his ass after he’s rushed in. She’s seen his anger, his panic, the desperation unfurling at every scene.

A needle full of poison, his hands pressed on a landmine, an axe raised high above his head with a wild look. Ready to do whatever it took.

Staring at the woman across from her it pains Dani to know she ever thought he got that from his dad. Not when Jessica’s eyes shine with the same bitterness towards the world who has kicked them a few times too many. Her voice draws, a deep rumble in her chest. “I’ve been married to a serial killer, dated another who stabbed maybe the only person who gave a damn about my children, I’ve pushed my daughter into a window to stop her from being hit by an axe. I’ve done everything in my power to protect them.”

“Will this protect him?” She sucks in a breath. “His dad is already a killer, Ainsley’s self defense plea almost ripped him apart and this? He will blame himself.”

“He can’t.”

“But he will. He will think about every single thing he could’ve done differently. To stop you from losing a part of yourself. Gil too.” 

“He has Ainsley, Gil, Edrisa, his team. He will be fine.”

“But he needs you.” Dani’s throat constricts emotion threatening to betray her. “He needs his mom.” That must get to her because her face begins to twitch. Her anger falls away to what truly lies beneath the surface, fear and grief. She lets go of the bag and Dani reaches inside securing the firearm.

The silence lapses again as they start back down the road. It’s different, less foreboding and more solemn. It takes a few minutes before Jessica speaks. “How do you get past this?” She casts a quick look over but she’s staring out the window, eyes not seeing the scenery flying past them. “You’ve seen dozens of horrors. The gruesome things we do to each other. How do you do it?”

Her hands grip the wheel tighter. “You don’t. Every case takes something. Some take more than others but they all do. I’ve tried shutting it down, leaving everything at work. But it doesn’t help.”

“No kidding.” She laughs bitterly.

“You have people. They push you past it.” Jessica looks to her, eyebrows furrowed. “Going at it alone, it’s too much. When you have people that care for you,” She sighs. “Well, it’s easier to do it when you’re doing it for someone else.”

“I did.” Her voice is thick, Dani looks away pretending not to see the tear that slides down her cheek. “I got out for them.”

A few more beats pass. She taps an even rhythm as she realizes they’re creeping closer to their destination. She should text Gil. “Find something that grounds you.”

“What does that even mean?” She swipes at her face looking away again. She needs to calm her down before she makes the connection herself.

“You pick something that keeps you here. And when everything feels like too much you think of that.”

“Like what?”

“A person, a memory-”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, I guess that could work.” Her eyes focus on the street signs, watching carefully for her next turn. “You find what you’re looking for, it stops. It keeps you from falling into your emotions. It’s a lot harder to be angry when you’re thinking about it.”

“And this is a memory for you? Isn’t it a little counterintuitive to move forwards when looking back?”

“Aren’t we all looking back?”

“No.” Dani’s eyes jump to her, clearly having struck a nerve. She curses herself in realization. Her happiness was also her greatest downfall. The person she loved was her ruin. No wonder she doesn’t want to look back on that. “You said a dream, you mind if I ask?”

“The first night when I was taken. I dreamt of Christmas, this year. Having my family all together. No cases, no Martin lingering in our minds. Gil put on music and we danced.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Truth be told, I don’t remember the last time I danced. It felt…”

“Like healing.”

Her eyes shine with tears, her voice barely a whisper. “I suppose so.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The turn into the warehouse brings the foreboding feeling back tenfold. Jessica’s anxiety settles in her stomach because they have no idea what they will find inside. Honestly, they don’t even truly know if he’s the only one left. There could be another partner. Malcolm could be hurt, he might need an ambulance.

Dani’s face firms when she looks at her phone. She knows what that look means in a second.

She can’t call for backup. They’re alone on this.

She parks the car gathering all she needs. “Stay here.” It’s more of a command than anything as she steps out. “I’m going to look for a payphone. He had to have used one to call you.” She disappears in the other direction, only her shadow from the overhead lights showing where she went from Jessica’s limited view.

Her eyes fall back on the door. The metal looms before her and she knows in her gut that this isn’t a trick. Her son is inside, alone and scared. God, he could be hurt and bleeding for all she knows. She wishes for only a moment that she didn’t give the gun over, that she could just end this without feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

She could still end this.

Her head whips back to where Dani went. It wouldn’t take long for her to find something to call Gil. She had to move quickly and quietly. She climbs from the car, the detective’s voice still ringing in her mind. He needs you. She’s absolutely certain this isn’t what she meant but she’s right regardless.

The metal door slides noisily and she knows she’s lost. The second she steps in she could be killed. But she pictures her little boy, slumped from being stabbed with his hand held close to his chest having smashed it to save her and his sister. The smell of blood and dirt from the memory washes over her harshly.

She pushes herself inside.

[duker42]

If you're taking requests, can I make an nsfw request where y/n has Levi wear a remote control vibrator? He starts off acting like he's not that phased but ends up showing a more needy, submissive side the longer she teases him? I love your writing style.

*****WARNING*****NSFW

💜Change in Attitude💜

He fucking hated everything about this. His face was the picture of unhappiness as she brought out the toys. If he had known she was going to pull shit like this, there was no way in hell he would have coming up with this little game they played.

He didn’t realize she had it in her. To suggest that he wear something like this. His need to dominate and control her, tying her up to use how he wanted had led to him suggest they each get to try something to push the other’s boundaries.

Levi had gotten his way. The night of ropes and hoarse cries for more still tingled in the back of his mind, making him eager for another night spent taking her apart, touch by touch until she was a mass of need and want under him.

“Levi, you promised. Anything I want.” Y/N said as she opened the brand new package to take it to the sink to wash it.

“I didn’t expect that you wanted to stick something in my ass, Y/N.” Levi growled, distinctly uncomfortable with the idea.

“And wear it at work.” Y/N reminded him over the running water in the bathroom.

He scowled at her, really unhappy with that portion of her wish. “Fine. Whatever you have planned, isn’t going to work. I’m just going to feel like I have to shit all day.” He grumped at her.

Levi knew that she was enjoying it when she came out of their bathroom with that mischievous grin on her face. She thought she was going to make him squirm. She obviously had forgotten exactly who she was married to. Levi Ackerman wasn’t going to let something like discomfort stop him from winning this little skirmish between the two of them.

~~~~~

He looked cool on the surface, like he did every day as he sat in his office. Y/N grinned as she opened the door and brought him his tea. The dark blue suit he wore with the starched white button down and tasteful grey tie spoke of the power that his position held.

Running a company took determination and a sharp mind. Something Levi had in spades. She held the little remote in her hand. Pressing the button, the only way she knew it was working was a small flinch from him, his eyes darting up to hers as he glared.

It was a new device, a combination cock ring and internal vibrator. Connected to keep it from going too far inside him, both parts vibrated to give some pretty intense pleasure from the reviews. But what Y/N wanted was for him to beg. To need her to take care of him. She had extracted a promise from him that he wouldn’t take it off, nor would he take care of himself.

She left it on as she walked back out to her desk. Turning the intensity up as she sashayed out of his office, knowing his eyes were on her hips.

~~~~~

Levi was started to squirm. Not that he would ever let Y/N know that. When she walked back into his office he would sit straight up and school his expressions, not letting her know how the toys were starting to affect him.

The moment she had her back turned, he was palming his cock through his trousers, needing much more that the slight pressure of his own hand. He had been hard since she had slipped the ring on his cock, squeezing the base and cradling his balls. He hadn’t actually minded the small smooth cylinder being inserted in him, her teasing pumps of his cock distracting him as she pushed it inside him.

He knew he could make it through the day. He just needed to ignore the vibrations and concentrate on the the same email that he had been working on for the past hour.

~~~~~

He had given up working, just concentrating on keeping it together for a little bit longer. Under the suit jacket he was starting to sweat. His cock aching against the fly of his trousers, his tip leaking and creating a wet spot in his boxers.

He wanted Y/N, no NEEDED her to come in and do something, anything to help him. Her hands, her mouth, he would do anything if she would just touch him.

His brow was furrowed as he clenched his jaw, the intensity of the vibrator ramped up again. Damn her....

She opened the door, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. She grinned as she saw his frame. Rigid and tense as he clenched his fists and breathed in and out very slowly, trying to control his reactions.

She reached for the remote, hesitating on the off button before turning it all the way up. His body jerked in his chair, his eyes shot up and flew to were she was standing.

“Please.” It was low and pleading. A small whimper accompanying the sound of her strong husband being needy.

She had cleared the office floor, sending everyone home early for the day before coming into his office. Knowing that he wasn’t going to last much longer. His normally pale face beautifully flushed with embarrassment and excitement. As she walked closer, she could see the prominent tent in his slacks.

His hands curled around the arm of his chair as she knelt in front of him, his black hair hanging down in his eyes as he turned them on her. Placing her hands on his knees, she felt him tense and shudder and as she slid them up his thighs.

Levi broke, his need for her overriding his pride. “Y/N, please. I need you.”

“What do you need, my love?” She purred, her fingers rubbing circles on his pelvis on either side of his cock.

His hips thrusted up. “You. Fuck, anyway you want. Fuck me, jack me off, suck me, I don’t care just touch me.”

“I am touching you.” Y/N brushed a hand over the clothed tip of his cock as she reached for his belt. His loud curse filled the office as his body jerked.

It was beautiful. His cock, stiff and swollen, purple with the head leaking a steady stream of pre cum. She had never seen him this desperate for release, his hips thrusting up in the air, needing some sort of friction as he was pulled from his boxers.

She looked up to see him watching her, a pained expression on his face. His pupils full and dilated with lust. His hand was shaking as he stroked her jaw, his need heavy in the air.

He pulsed in her hand, his whimper delicious as she tightened her grip on him. She leaned forward and pressed her tongue against the tip of his cock, tasting the liquid gathered there. His hand pushed into her hair, his fingers fisting her locks as she grinned.

Y/N rolled her tongue around the tip, making his head fall back and his the back of his chair with a loud thud. Her name out of his mouth a breathy pant.

His submissive cry was loud when she finally pulled him into her mouth, sucking deeply. His stomach clenched under her hand, his thighs tightened around her body. She bobbed up and down, drawing him deeper into her mouth when every pass.

“G-gonna cu-um.” He breathed, his body bowing up as he gave into the sensations of her mouth around him, sucking his soul out while the vibration in his ass and around the base shot sensations all the way to his toes, making his feet stomp against the carpet of his office floor.

“F-Fu-UCK!” He cried out as he came. He pulsed in her mouth, the thick hot ropes of cum shooting out to coat the back of her throat in wave after wave as he pushed her head down a bit harder on him.

Her eyes were watching him, his face a perfect expression of bliss and his eyes rolling back as he slumped down in his chair. His hand stroking her hair idly as he breathed a sigh in relief when she shut the vibrator off.

Y/N swallowed every drop he had to give her, pulling off of him gently and tucking him away in his trousers lovingly. His change in attitude was a beautiful sight to see, but right now, she needed to get Levi home so her normally dominating husband can take care of a growing need she had of her own.

Mobile MasterList

[quickspinner]

Fear Itself

this is not any of the things I intended to write today but I’m just getting carried along by the tide at this point. This is part of my collection All in the Family.

Adrien sighed, looking at the blue-haired man slumped on the bar. 

“Marinette is going to kill you,” Adrien observed, leaning on the bar beside his friend. “And I don’t want to be anywhere near the blast radius.” 

“S’not a crime to get drunk,” Luka mumbled.

“Yeah, you can let me know how that argument works out for you.” Adrien rolled his eyes. “Can you walk or am I going to have to drag your ass all the way home?”

Luka’s response was worthy of Juleka as he  buried his face further in his arms, but Adrien assumed it was some version of “Fuck off, Agreste.” 

“No can do,” Adrien sighed, grabbing his arm and hauling him bodily off the stool. “You knew you were stuck with me when you married my favorite person.”

“I hate you so much,” Luka muttered as Adrien ducked under his arm. Adrien staggered as Luka let him take most of his weight, probably just to be petty. Adrien rolled his eyes, but steered them toward the door. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that he was using the limo that day. It was more conspicuous than was ideal, though at least it wasn’t the stretch, but it did mean Adrien didn’t have to drive. He dumped Luka in the backseat and made him buckle up before getting in the other side and signaling the driver to go.

“So you want to tell me why you felt the need to go get shitfaced in the middle of the week?” Adrien asked conversationally, only half expecting an answer. Luka could be awfully closed-mouthed when something was bothering him, even more so if the reason had something to do with Marinette. They both knew Adrien would be on Marinette’s side anyway.

Luka sighed, leaning his head to stare at the roof of the car. “M’nette’s pregnant.”

“Really?” Adrien lit up, and then frowned. “Wait, that’s a good thing right? You guys have been trying for a while.” 

“Eight months,” Luka agreed, closing his eyes. “We were ssssssso happy, and then M’nette went to work and it hit me that I’s gonna be a sad—dad—and I lost my fuckin’ mind.” His breath hitched. “Wha was I thinkin’, I can’t be a dad. My dad sucked, ‘drien.”

Adrien snorted. “Yeah, join the club,” he muttered bitterly.

“Been a member longer’n you, asshole.”

“I think supervillain trumps seniority,” Adrien snorted. Luka rolled his head to give Adrien a stare through red-rimmed eyes.

“Yeah, so how qualified d’you feel to be a dad, hmm? Not, like, theoretically, but if you knew it would happen ‘zactly thirty-four fuckin’ weeks from now.”

Adrien pondered that for a moment. “Shit,” he said, finally. 

Luka groaned and put his hands over his face. “Tell me there’s some scotch in this godawful monstrosity.” 

“Sorry,” Adrien said. “You’re cut off. Marinette will kill me if I let you die of alcohol poisoning.” He reached into the cooler set into the seat and pulled out a bottle of water. “Bottoms up,” he said, handing it to Luka. 

Luks snorted, fumbling with the cap. “Could drink you under the table, pretty boy.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Adrien retorted. “You know how easy it is to get wasted on champagne if you don’t work up a tolerance. Either way, I’m not giving you more booze.” He took the water back from Luka, twisted the cap off, and handed it back.

“Some friend,” Luka muttered, and then he drained half the bottle. He sighed. “How mad is she?”

“She was more worried than mad,” Adrien told him. 

“Shit.” Luka sighed. “That jus’ means she’ll be madder when she knows ‘m safe.”

“Probably,” Adrien agreed. “So you better sober up as much as you can before you get there.”

“Fuck, ‘m such a loser,” Luka groaned. “She’s gonna think I was lyin’ about bein’ happy.”

“You never lie to her,” Adrien said, feeling a bit more sympathy now that he knew what was going on. “And you weren’t, were you.”

“No,” Luka sighed, throwing his arm across his eyes. “No, I was happy, just…” he sighed, and Adrien suspected he was crying beneath his arm. “Jus’ don’t wanna screw up. Don’ wanna lose everything jus’ cause I got shit genes and a crappy example.”

“Well,” Adrien said, putting his hand on Luka’s shoulder. “Your dad was never there and my dad wouldn’t leave me alone, so hopefully between the two of us we can figure out the right thing to do. You’re not in this alone, man, you’ve got Marinette and me, and Tom.”

“Fuck, Tom’s gonna kill me if he finds out,” Luka breathed. 

“He won’t. It’s not like you make a habit of this kind of thing, and you’ve got good reason to be scared. Maybe find a better way to deal next time, though. If you run off on Marinette every time you get scared—”

“I do not run off on Marinette,” Luka said, lifting his face, moving his arm, and speaking much too crisply for as drunk as he was. “Never. All in until the end, I swore.” He leaned his head back again. “How do you think she knew where to tell you to find me?”  

Adrien smiled. “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about, Luka. Except, you know, what Marinette’s going to do to you.”

Adrien declined his driver’s offer to help get Luka in the building with some regret, but he knew both Luka and Marinette would be happier if he did it himself. Luka was steadier when they walked in the building, and he wasn’t slurring quite so much, but Adrien still had to duck under his arm to keep him walking mostly straight.

“Wuss,” Luka muttered as they waited for the elevator.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I’m not hauling your drunk ass up four flights of stairs.” He sighed. “Hey, Plagg, head on up and tell Marinette we’re on our way.” 

“No,” Luka moaned. “Sass, stop him, he’ll make it sound worse than it is.” There was no response from his pocket. Luka rolled his eyes. “He’s not speaking to me,” he grumbled. “Spilled beer on him.”

Adrien gave him a look. “You weren’t drinking beer, Luka.”

“The first one was a beer,” Luka sighed blearily. “Was just trying to relax a bit at first. Then I got scared and...and I didn’t want to be, so…” he shrugged. 

Adrien sighed. “You know beer makes you introspective. You should have expected that.”

“Yep.” Luka popped the p. “I’ve known I was gonna be a dad for less than twelve hours and I’ve already screwed up.”

“Dude,” Adrien sighed. “I’m making you an appointment with my therapist.”

Luka snorted. “Like I can afford your therapist. And don’t say dude, you sound ridiculous. You can barely pull off bro.”

“You won’t let me call you bro,” Adrien pointed out. “And shut up. I’m going to make you an appointment, and I’m going to pay for it, and you’re not going to give me any shit about it because this is too important to blow off. For the sake of Marinette and your baby.”

Luka drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay,” Adrien repeated grimly, muscling him into the elevator.

“Fuck, what am I going to say to her,” Luka muttered, breath hitching again. 

“The truth. You’re scared and you screwed up and you’re going to get help. She may take her pound of flesh first but you know she’ll forgive you.” He paused. “Didn’t you guys talk about any of this before you decided to have kids?”

“Course we did,” Luka muttered. “I was worried but I wanted Marinette to be happy. Thought I could handle it.” He sighed heavily. “God I love her so much.”

“Yeah, we all know that,” Adrien said. The elevator dinged.

Luka tried to straighten himself, pulling away from Adrien. He’d face his wife on his own two feet. He did let Adrien take his keys and unlock the door, swaying slightly as the hall tilted to the left. 

Marinette opened the door with the keys still in it. “You’re home,” she sighed, with all the fervency of a prayer. God, he was the worst.

“Hi, babe,” Luka sighed. “Sorry.” He walked into the room and collapsed face-first on the couch. He hated this stage of drunk, where he was sober enough to know what an idiot he was and not sober enough to stop the room from randomly spinning or to be entirely sure his head was connected to his body.

“Ugh, you reek,” Marinette covered her mouth, turning green. “Oh my—” She retreated across the room, and Luka understood but it still made him feel a little bit abandoned. She looked at Adrien and they had one of those conversations without words that he hated. 

“Sorry, Mari, I draw the line at helping him shower.” Adrien raised his hands. That was a lie, Luka knew. Adrien would do literally anything if Marinette asked him to. 

“It’s fine, I can manage him,” Marinette sighed.

“No,” Luka called, unsmushing his face from the couch enough to be heard. “I can handle it myself. You’re not supposed to be lifting.” To stall any further argument, he got to his feet and staggered towards the bedroom, weaving but staying on his feet. His head was starting to feel connected to his body again.

While he got undressed, he filled the sink with water and set a small sliver of soap next to it. Sass finally emerged from hiding and immediately plunged into the water and began scrubbing himself vigorously. Luka turned on the shower and stepped in before it got warm. The cold water helped steady him a bit, though he still had to lean on the wall. “You okay, Sass?” he called. 

“I am fine,” the kwami answered, curtly but at least he was speaking.

“I’m really sorry,” Luka sighed, sticking his head under the spray.

“I know,” Sass replied from outside the curtain, a little more gently.

Luka managed to scrub the alcohol and bar smell off himself. 

“Brush your teeth,” Sass advised. “Her sense of smell will be very sensitive for the next few months.” 

Luka grunted an acknowledgement and did as instructed. He managed to pick up his dirty clothes without falling over and drop them into the hamper, making a mental note to do the laundry himself tomorrow. Sass phased back out into the living room, where he could still hear Adrien and Marinette talking, but the thought of getting dressed and going out there was just too much. He crawled into bed, too exhausted both physically and emotionally to do anything else, and wriggled under the covers. 

Eventually he heard the front door close, and Marinette came in, approaching tentatively. She sniffed the air as she got close, and then relaxed, coming to sit on the bed next to him. Luka rolled to his back and prepared to face the music. 

“You could have talked to me,” Marinette said, stroking her fingertips lightly across her forehead.

Luka sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m happy, I swear I am, just...it’s a lot.” 

Marinette nodded. “Believe me, I know.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll be a terrible dad. I had kind of a horrible example.” 

“True, but,” Marinette shrugged. “We’re a progressive family. We can both be moms if you want. You had a good enough example for that.”

Luka chuckled weakly, reaching up to caress her cheek with his thumb.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. “I hope she has your eyes.”

Marinette smiled. “Or he.”

Luka shook his head and immediately regretted it as the room spun. “Gonna be a girl. That’s my lot in life. Constantly surrounded by strong, beautiful women who can kick my ass.” 

Marinette giggled. “At least you have Adrien.”

“He’s so pretty he might as well be one of you,” Luka sighed. “C’mere?” He flopped an arm out, and Marinette sighed, and then laid down and scooted over until she could lay her head on his chest. He curled his arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he said. “Sorry for being so stupid.”

“Yeah, well, if being surrounded by strong women is your lot in life, apparently being surrounded by stupid men is mine,” Marinette sighed. “You’re going to go to Adrien’s therapist?”

“Yeah,” Luka sighed, closing his eyes. “I guess I better.”

“Then it’s okay. You’re allowed this one.” She was silent for a moment. “Thanks for letting me know where you were. I would have been scared if you just hadn’t come home.”

“I would never do that to you,” Luka promised. “Never. I’m not going anywhere. I may be the worst dad in the history of dads but I can at least be better than mine. I can at least be here.” 

Marinette leaned up and kissed him, and he closed his eyes, savoring the familiar feel of her soft lips caressing his. “You’re not going to be anywhere near the worst dad in history. You have too much love in your heart to be anything less than mostly adequate.” 

Luka laughed. “Thanks, babe. You always know the right thing to say.” 

Marinette tucked the blankets around him. “I still have to go feed the kwamis and do a couple of other things. You sleep it off. Just remember, I have dibs on puking in the toilet in the morning. If you have to hurl, use the trash can.” 

“Yes’m,” Luka muttered, already drifting off. Marinette leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“I love you, stupid man.” 

“Love you too, strong woman. Women.” 

“It could still be a boy!”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.”