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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

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Legacy - a Malevolent Fic

The change was there. It didn’t excuse anything that had happened before, but it was there.

And if there could be no hope of moving forward, no hope of change because of past sins, then none of them deserved anything—and John deserved that hope. So. That meant Hastur did, too.

Part of the Surrogate series.

AO3

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“Your son?” said Arthur.

Hastur was silent, lightly holding Carrot’s reins.

Arthur knew he’d had children. Hastur had said so in the same way one might say I had warts and burned them off with acid—but that wasn’t the way Hastur said son now. “John?” Arthur tried.

No, said John. I won’t talk about this.

Shit. “Hastur. What is this about? Son? You said offspring stayed away from you.”

“I also said this was not my first attempt at parenting,” said Hastur. “I have raised several of my spawn in person. At least, until they grew to the point it was unsafe for us both.”

“Spawn? For fuck’s sake… how was it unsafe?”

“It is not our nature to be near one another. We need to rule; we are gods, Arthur, not mortals reliant on a family structure for survival. It is in our nature to conquer, and at some point, there will always be an attempt at rebellion.”

He doesn’t mean a fucking tantrum. He means deicide. A coup.

This was a lot. “Fuck,” whispered Arthur. “So is that who this son was? Someone who tried to take over?”

Hastur’s hesitation was heavy. “He was the son I loved. The one I chose as my nearest reflection.”

Arthur tried to parse that. “What?”

“I did not throw him out when he came into maturity. He had my skill, my brilliance, my talent. I kept him. How could I not? I shared my glory with him. I treasured him. And still, he betrayed me.”

None of this was actual detail. Athur tried not to jump to conclusions. “But what happened?”

Hastur skipped ahead. “I could have killed him. I had that right.”

Arthur felt like cold water spilled down his spine.

But we didn’t.

“No. I didn’t. I chose mercy. But he…”

He didn’t take it that way. I remember.

“Oh, now you remember?” Hastur said.

Shut up. I remember.Enough.

“Well,” says Hastur in a fond tone Arthur suspected covered many of this guy’s absolutely horrible sins. “Then you will remember that I spoiled him.”

“Spoiled,” Arthur repeated as if the word had no meaning.

“Spoiled. I never told him ‘no.’ I gave him whatever he wished. I shared my honor with him, Arthur, at the head of every gala. He’d even had songs at my jubilees written for him, specifically—not that Karloff’s music was as uplifting as yours. He was celebrated throughout the Dreamlands! That abandoned temple you found, before I threw you into the prison pits, years ago?”

“Yes?” said Arthur through clenched teeth.

“The image on the wall there was not me. I am still worshiped. That, my Composer, was him.”

“Holy fuck.” Arthur needed a moment.

The cart rattled on, wheels crunching, bed squeaking. Carrot shook out her ears to combat a fly, enjoying the mild weather.

Arthur had to know. ��You still haven’t told me what happened.”

“He took a city under my gaze without permission, claiming it for his own, as an attempted foothold for dislodging me and taking my place. He led a rebellion—stealing some of my people, contorting their thoughts, confusing them with lies.”

“After all you supposedly did for him?” whispers Arthur.

It wasn’t supposedly. You don’t understand, Arthur. Taking the city was bad enough. Taking so many minds for his own on top of that was a direct challenge. He stole worshipers, says John in a hollow tone. By doing that, he said Hastur was no longer worthy of being worshiped.

Hastur gripped the reins tightly. “He led his army of stolen soldiers right into my court, attempting direct takeover. He marched on me, on Carcosa, on my throne—declaring my weakness and slaughtering my people. I had to kill so many; their minds were broken, and they hurled themselves against me like waves upon a rock.”

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur whispered again.

“But I didn’t kill him. I didn’t want to. Are you going to tell me I have no right to do as I wish in my own kingdom?”

He’d shouted that.

Carrot trotted on, unconcerned.

Arthur swallowed. “What did you do?”

“I had mercy on him. I still had to make an example, but I was careful not to do permanent damage.”

We ripped out his throat and clawed his face, said John.

“What the fuck?” said Arthur.

“All perfectly healable. There won’t even be a scar,” said Hastur. “This was nothing.”

“But you ripped out his throat?” Arthur repeated.

“It wasn’t as dramatic as you’re making it out to be,” said Hastur.

We humiliated him. Humbled him. Made him kneel. He’d never knelt in his life. John’s voice was thick. We did… that. Then we threw him the fuck out of the kingdom.

“I told him to come back when he understood,” said Hastur. “And I know he understood.”

Sure he did. That’s why he never fucking came back.

“I gave him mercy. He was and is highly intelligent. He understood.”

He didn’t see it as mercy. He thought you were saying he was so far beneath you that he wasn’t worth killing.

Hastur hesitated.

That. That hesitation, right there—Arthur jumped on it. “You know you fucked up.”

“My only mistake was being too permissive.”

Arthur breathed rapidly, his teeth clenched. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s what all you fucked-up deities do to their kids,” he said, low. “You did that to your son! He trusted you, and you did that to him!”

He’d shouted that.

Carrot trotted on, unconcerned.

“I had every right to do much more!” Hastur growled back. “He knew that! Everyone knew that! I had mercy!”

Arthur was like a dog with a bone. “But now that you have Faroe, you get it, don’t you? You feel it. You fucked that relationship, and you’re doing everything you can not to fuck this one!”

Easy, Arthur, said John, unexpectedly. He really believed Gokar'luh would come back. I believed that. None of… us… have ever loved a kid the way Hastur does Faroe. It’s completely new territory. It’s why everyone’s so fucking confused about her place. After a moment: I understand it better now than I ever did then.

“You understand nothing,” Hastur snapped.

Arthur exhaled slowly. This wasn’t like with Larson. It wasn’t. This was no innocent little girl, begging her father for help as he slew her. This was complicated. “How long ago was this?”

Hastur didn’t answer.

“Hastur?”

“He will come back.”

I don’t think so. Especially now that he has to have heard about Faroe.

Hastur scoffed. “If he was truly on the verge of returning after six thousand years, I doubt the news of a human child would have stopped him.”

“Six thousand…” Arthur breathed.

To… us… that isn’t that long. But it’s long enough. He’s not coming back.

“Of course he is. Are you going to tell me he wasn’t brilliant? That he did not know my heart? Of course he’ll come back.”

John fell silent.

So did Arthur. He wondered if Hastur’s chest felt as heavy as his. “You lost your son,” he said, low.

Arthur, be careful.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“I did not lose my son.”

“Sounds to me like you did.”

“He will come back.”

“No, he won’t. You lost your son.”

Hastur suddenly turned on him, robe distended with surging shapes as if he’d lost control of his form. “Certainlynot the way you lost your—”

Arthur’s left hand shot out and gripped Hastur’s wrist. Listen!said John. Listen to me right now! This is fucked up. Everybody’s hurt. Don’t go there!

A long, terrible moment later, Hastur settled back in his seat and in his human form and in his denial and said, “He will come back.”

Arthur said nothing.

“I didn’t want to kill him!” Hastur abruptly argued with no one. “It was my choice. I still don’t want to kill him.” A pause. “Maybe after this, I will approach him. Maybe I will bring him home. Perhaps he fears my wrath if he returns. Perhaps that is the reason. Perhaps I should gift him Yhtill, as a sign of peace.”

Arthur clutched his chest. It hurt. It all hurt. The error of a father, losing his child—it didn’t matter how different the circumstances were. This hurt. He turned his face away, wiping his eyes. “I’ve never seen you treat Faroe that way, at least.”

“Why would I ever treat Faroe that way?” said Hastur in genuine confusion.

Arthur was beginning to understand Hastur too well. He wanted to jump on that, too, to go down the road of how unselfaware ARE you? He didn’t.

The Hastur of six years ago wouldn’t even have understood this much about himself, about relationships, about parent and child. There had been change, and it was because of Faroe. Arthur swallowed and went quiet.

So, said John, trying to redirect. So. What’s up with this “Oracle” shit?

Hastur snorted. “Gokar'luh has set himself up as some sort of… seer for hire. Utterly beneath him.”

But he has no ability to see the future.

“Correct. That isn’t how he does it.”

Ah, said John, low. I get it. He’s running mini-mind-takeovers every damn visit.

“A genius for breaking minds—damn near equal to mine—and a talent for altering emotions so subtly it’s close to swaying, even without a mark. Yes. Though I’m sure he often gives actual answers, too, he ensures those who leave without them still believe they received.”

“What?” whispered Arthur, sitting up.

What’s he doing for payment?

“He has a reputation for being particularly cruel in what he wants in return,” said Hastur as though it meant nothing, but his human hands tightened on the reins so hard that the leather creaked. “I suspect the desperation of his clients brings him pleasure.”

“He’s offering answers?” said Arthur, feeling chilled.

“Yes.”

“The very thing Faroe is looking for?”

Hastur went still again.

It didn’t sound like Faroe went that way.

“No.” Hastur didn’t sound sure. “No. There is no reason to assume that she did.”

Arthur shifted. “You’re worried.”

“No.” The reins creaked. “She would be in no danger from him, anyway. He isn’t a fool. He wouldn’t dare harm her. My son shares my intelligence. My skills.” He sighed. “And my singing voice. And my beauty.”

Arthur snorted.

“You are a plebian, and your taste does not count,” Hastur informed him lightly.

I don’t think he’s coming back, Hastur, said John very quietly.

“Of course he is. Once his tantrum has run its course.”

“He got all those things from you, did he?” said Arthur quietly. “Did he get your pride, too?”

Silence.

John gripped Arthur’s hand.

Arthur let it go.

Arthur lay in the cart under stars he could not see.

He’d learned by now that if he spoke up when he was “supposed” to be sleeping, Hastur would put him to sleep—a thing Arthur hated, though he understood why Hastur felt it necessary.

Hastur needed Arthur functional and in top form in order to find Faroe. Ensuring he slept was a purely practical means to that end. And Arthur loathed that loss of control—but he could see it came from the good desire to find Faroe safe and sound.

Fuck, that was complicated.

Except… it wasn’t. He understood more about Hastur these days, and it was a deeply uncomfortable understanding. Hastur was John with different stimuli and fewer limitations.

John, when they’d first met, would absolutely have shaken him until he bit his tongue to bleeding. John, when they’d first met, had murdered Parker for no reason other than he was there.

Hastur had not hurt him since that sort-of-kind-of apology before the Games. Arthur remembered. He’d waited. He’d watched. Hastur had nothurt him again.

The change was there. It didn’t excuse anything that had happened before, but it was there.

And if there could be no hope of moving forward, no hope of change because of past sins, then none of them deserved anything—and John deserved that hope. So. That meant Hastur did, too.

This was ugly, but it wasn’t complicated. It was simple—and the more Arthur thought how Faroe was affecting Hastur, the worse he felt about how he’d treated Yellow.

Gods, he’d fucked that up. Really and truly provided the worst possible stimuli to that slice of a deity.

I’m sorry, Yellow, he thought, and hoped that wherever Yellow was now, he had someone better to learn from.

He had to wonder how things would go when John rejoined Hastur again someday. When all of John’s changes were merged into Hastur. What would that be like?

Arthur couldn’t look forward to it with anything but heartache, but at least he could hope for a good outcome for them.

“You aren’t sleeping,” said Hastur from the front.

“Don’t put me under,” said Arthur quickly.

Hastur sighed. “Why must you always be so obstinate?”

Arthur could narrow that answer down: “Because I’m not done thinking for the night.”

Hastur didn’t immediately knock him out, so that was progress, anyway.

John’s hand slid across and touched Arthur’s, gently. Arthur gripped it.

“What are you thinking about?” said Hastur, to Arthur’s surprise.

“Legacy,” said Arthur with no forethought.

“Legacy?” repeated Hastur as if offended.

“How we become what we’ve been given, and then we pass that on, unless something happens to change it,” said Arthur. “Or unless we choose something else.”

“This seems an odd thought to have,” said Hastur, who was so clearly missing the point he might as well have torn out its throat and banished it from his kingdom.

“Not really,” said Arthur, softly. “I was thinking about my grandparents.”

Your grandparents? said John. You’ve never mentioned them before.

“I knew my grandmother,” he said. “A little. I mean, my parents died when I was six. My grandmother died… I thinkthe year before that? I met her once, when she came to visit us. It was a big trip, and really wore her out.”

What was she like? said John as if in awe.

“Stiff. Formal. At the time, I thought she didn’t like me.” Arthur shrugged, his shoulders sliding against the wood of the cart. “Now… I think she was just sad. It was such a journey for an old woman to make—took nearly two weeks, you know? And I think she knew she wasn’t going to see any of us again.” He swallowed. “I don’t even know which side she was on. My mother’s or my father's. I’ll never know, now.”

Humans struggle so much to retain connection, said John. Being so limited because of location…

“I do remember something, though,” said Arthur. “I was supposed to be asleep, and I heard my mother and grandmother talking. They were talking about my grandfather. She asked my mother if she’d been hit.”

“Hit?” said Hastur. “Ah. Domestic abuse? Or some form of discipline?”

“Abuse, you fuck,” said Arthur. “There’s never an excuse to hit someone like that.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” said Hastur, being an ass. “What if they tried to kill you?”

Arthur sighed. “Please. You know what I mean. Don’t do this tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

“Very well.” And Hastur stopped needling—because that was what he’d been doing. Not defending abuse, but poking to get a response.

This weird understanding between them was beginning to get frightening. Arthur no longer knew how to judge this forced family—the King in Yellow, a god, and Arthur Lester, his fucked-up human, and John, who was something in-between. “Anyway,” he said. “I couldn’t tell if it was because my father had been hit a lot as a child, and my grandmother worried he’d do it, or if my mother had been hit as a child, and might allow it. I don’t know. But it stuck with me. It’s part of my legacy, either way.”

You don’t hit people who don’t deserve it, said John. Though, uh. You have gone too far, sometimes.

“Uncle. And others. I know. I wonder, sometimes, where that comes from, when I… when I go too far.”

You're afraid you inherited it.

“Didn’t I?”

“No,” said Hastur, simply.

“If I did, there’s a chance she did, too,” said Arthur, softly.

“My daughter is pristine. She has no flaws in her DNA.”

“I’m not sure it’s that simple,” said Arthur.

“She has never in her life behaved in a way that was unwontedly violent,” said Hastur.

Arthur thought back to punching out one of his only friends when Bella was going into labor, and swallowed hard. “I hope you’re right. I don’t ever want to see her pushed that far. And maybe, since she hasn’t known me as her father, and doesn’t know my history, maybe… whatever legacy I have, she won’t pick up.”

John’s thumb stroked the back of his wrist. If she’s anything like you, she might be worth a damn.

Arthur smiled weakly. “Agree to disagree on that one, friend.”

Fuck you, John said with great affection.

Arthur closed his eyes. “Fuck you, too,” he said warmly.

And then, out of nowhere, Hastur said, “I want her to take after me.”

So that was a hell of a sentence.

And in the past, Arthur would have taken full offense. Would have assumed evil, or cruel, or calculating. But he had a feeling that wasn’t what Hastur meant. “Do you?” said Arthur neutrally, gripping John’s wrist and hoping he’d stay quiet. “In what way?”

“Strength. Wisdom. Power. The ability to defend herself. I want her to be respected. Honored. Worshiped. Safe.”

“Those are mostly outside of her,” said Arthur. “What do you want her to be like? As a person?”

“Herself,” said Hastur. “She is magnificent. She hardly needs to make changes to that.”

Arthur really was beginning to understand Hastur. “I agree,” he said. “Gods, do I agree.”

They fell into silence.

John stroked Arthur’s wrist.

Somehow, Arthur found sleep.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent pod #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent #arthur lester #john malevolent #john doe malevolent #surrogate series

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rex101111 · 1 year

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Dunno why I haven't asked already (maybe I did and forgot) but if you had to pick which strive themes are your favorites and least favorites what would you go with? If you don't want to do the whole listing then maybe just a couple of standouts? I'd like to hear your opinion on stuff!

hey izzy i used this ask as an excuse to just listen to all the Strive themes for the first time in a while. So here's every character theme and my thoughts:

Find Your One Way: for the longest time I thought it was "own way" but whatever. Okay so this is where I put my cards on the table and say that Strive's overall kind of metal is kinda not my thing. Or at least it took a while for me to click with it since I still use the Rev2 soundtrack as a workout mix so I kinda have a bias. As such I think this song is fine but Give Me A Break is peak Sol so it just sounds to me like its trying to reach that same level and it. uh, doesn't for me. still cool though.

The Roar Of The Spark: and in a complete 180 from the previous song THIS ONE FUCKING ROCKS. Christian Hair Metal, fucking wonderful. From that keyboard intro, to that fucking sublime guitar solo, this one is so fucking good actually.

The Disaster Of Passion: In contrast to the metal (ironically enough) I adore Strive's "pop" themes. Every one of them makes me smile like a doopy dope. Seriously when May's trailer dropped I had "NONE. STOP. LOVE SONG!" on repeat in my head for like a month. So catchy. Really good drum work here also, underrated.

Out Of The Box: This song kinda passed me by honestly, so this was the first time I really sat down and listened to it all the way. Brit Rock can be hit or miss, but this is pretty fun! the Engrish is just bad enough that its really charming and the chill vibes fit Axl really well.

Play The Hero: You're saying this is the theme of a weeb? Never would have guessed. Okay real talk I fucking LOVE this one. Catchy, cheesy, uncomplicated Anime Butt Rock, if that doesn't describe Chipp Zanuff I don't know what does.

Armored-clad Faith: SOCIETY. YOUR SOCIETY. Okay meme-ing aside this one's great too. Gonna be honest though Bass Heavy Metal isn't really my cup of tea, but even despite that its still really catchy. Sometimes memes blind you to how good a song actually is. Chorus is the best part tho.

Alone Infection: To be honest this took a very long time to grow on me. Verging on Screamo didn't help it, and its honestly kinda weird. But hell, it did grow on me eventually. Not my favorite by any stretch but not bad.

Love the Subhuman Self: God what a banger and a half. If you don't sing along to the chorus there's something wrong with you. Also this is a song made in the current century that uses the phrase "bee's knees" in the wonderful way only people who don't speak English can manage. What a fucking miracle this song is, damn.

Let Me Carve Your Way: Bad news, horrible greasy shadow man has a pretty good theme he absolutely did not deserve. Tragic. Okay seriously this is pretty good, strong beat nice chorus and the end bit is nice contrast overall. Yeah its alright.

Necessary Discrepancy: Part of me still prefers Diva Of Despair, but this bangs so hard holy shit. From that weird ass electronic intro to the guitar and that climax, bro. Bro. Not my favorite but I'd say...third place.

Hellfire:

Ky:...Leo, I think you might be suffering with depression.

Leo: Depression!?!? What kind of nonsense are you spouting!?!? Can a guy with depression have a theme this rocking!?

Ky: Leo. Half of that song is you calling yourself a liar and hoping you die.

Seriously though another song I kinda slept on but its really good also can someone tie Leo to a chair and take him to a therapist? Thanks.

What do you fight for: Lesser than the sum of its parts. Like the chorus is good, the melody is nice, a few verses are cool. But its kind of a mess. There's a really nice solo, but it just kinda stuck a bit too early in the song for it to really built up to the climax properly. Crawl is better anyway.

Trigger: probably one of my least favorite, honestly. It just kinda meanders around without really coalesing into anything substantial and just like. refuses to pick up any momentum at all. it just changes itself up too often and its kinda tiring to listen to. Also the lyric "don't make a big deal out of me" is so ironic in hindsight when it turns out she contributed a big fat load of jack shit to the story mode of Strive. but that's a pile of meat that was once a horse I am kinda tired of beating so lets move on.

Rock Parade: MY FUCKING BOY IS DANCING AND IN LOVE. FUCKING LOOK AT HIM! God I love love love this one, so freaking good. It tells a story, its rocking, its catchy, and that that more gentle bit near the last third is so evocative. I always imagine him doing a fan dance during that part. Second favorite absolutely.

Requiem: Heavy Metal has always been I-No's signature sound and aesthetic, and mixing that with Alt Rock gives this one a pretty unique feel compared to her other themes. Midnight Carnival still stands on top as far as I-No themes go but this one ain't too shabby. Sick guitar solo, naturally.

Crawl: Intense, rocking, better than Nago's actual theme. Pretty gnarly boss theme.

The Kiss of Death: The only way to do good Industrial Metal is to go All In. And this song does that and then some. How the hell did this head banger get past me??? I'm genuinely baffled that a guy as big as Beef Dickinson managed to evade me for this long. Fuck yeah.

Perfection Can't Please Me: I really appreciate those call backs to Juno in this song since that one was one of my favorites in Xrd. Even with all my reservation with how the Aria plot got resolved I can't deny this song is a ton of fun. Though, hear me out, how fucking funny would it have been if they took Meet Again and remixed it into something this poppy?

Drift: My thoughts about this song are about the same as the thoughts I have about Happy Clappy himself. There are certainly things to like about this song, there are some really cool bits and riffs and the lyrics are cool, but it switches around so much its hard to really get attached to any one aspect of it. Like sometimes its really fun and bouncy, sometimes its rocking out, sometimes its pretentious because Chaos can't fucking help himself. I like it better than I did when it first came out, but still just kinda meh. The "Disney" bit still funny as all hell though.

Mirror of the World: Best song in the game. No. Zip! It is, no arguments will be accepted are entertained here. This song rocks, this song slaps, this song tells a story, not just the story Baiken is going through in Strive but her whole journey up till now. This song is soulful and harsh and beautiful and fucking everything. This isn't my Baiken Bias talking its just true don't argue with me just sit with me as we listen to Mirror of the World on loop for two hours and then You Will Understand.

Like a Weed, Naturally, as a Matter of Course: This song is just vibes honestly. A cool and smooth song about how just living for the sake of it is good enough, because if a weed can be why can't we? Also the pronouns getting changed every few words is like two steps away from screaming "THEY'RE NON-BINARY NOW PRETTY NEAT RIGHT?" and you know what that is neat.

The Town Inside Me: The most Song of all Trans. Seriously though this song is so much fucking fun. Probably my favorite "pop" theme of the three we have so far. Honestly it just feels like a complete, full song. Like you can just take this out of the game and play it on the radio it just feels like there's nothing missing here its awesome. Personally though, the thing I like the most in this song is how triumphant it is by the end. Bridget is out of the box and she ain't going back in, and she is glowing.

The Hourglass: His Xrd theme was honestly just okay so I was more open to give this one a fair shake. And honestly? Pretty fun! Nothing really major to say here except that it's peppy, positive, energetic, and has a nice strong sound to it. So, Sin, basically.

The Circle: I really, really wanted to like this song. I listened to it a few more times and I just. Can't connect with it. It's like Drift in that there's a lot of different things going on and also like Drift nothing really comes together here. I saw a post mocking people who don't like this song as people who only like music with wide appeal and to that person firstly fuck off with the gatekeeping and secondly just because a song has complex things going on or messes with the time signature doesn't automatically make it good and I just don't like this song because its a damn mess that barely coheres into something a bit more solid by the end but only just barely. Delilah deserves to be her own character if only so she can get a proper fucking song out of it.

#answers #Broken-clover #Guilty Gear #aaaah this was so fun!#thank you izzy for the fun ask this was great #i got to listen to really great music and also Drift and Circle

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sorikkung · 2 years

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you ever have like three major inconveniences all in a row and then have google maps draw a dick on your way home alone at night just to spite you because it knows you're lost anyways and

#i made it home safe somehow eventually but fuck man #so much for being able to write tonight 🙄🙄🙄🙄#literally spent all day at work like cant wait to get home and write!#fuck my life it is two hours past my bedtime imma be a zombie tomorrow #at least i wasnt jumped going thru some sketchy ass places on tbe way back!#tho i kinda wish i was so id have an excuse to not go to work tomorrow and could prolly call the piggies for a drive home #after fighting off my attacker w my umbrella #thatd be kinda badass #i know i shouldnt but ive always wanted to get in a fight #just to see how id do yk #not for like masochistic reasons but more like sadistic reasons #i want an excuse to absolutely rock someones shit and have them deserve it #put a mf in their PLACE #i know this may seem shocking if youve read wgoin 2 but my disclaimer is that its absolutely for masochistic reasons if its seo changbin #have you Seen those arms????#im far from the initial frustration and anger at forgetting to press start on my laundry then having my kfc order disappear for 35min #and missing the bus home and calling an uber and having the uber delayed and starting to walk and then getting lost #i have now reached hysteria where everything is actually quite comedic #and i do not want to sleep bc the effects of staying up this late on a work night Will bite me in the ass as soon as my alarm goes off #delaying the inevitable you know how it be #cant believe i waited like 40min for my kfc only to eat barely half of it #how deep in the trenches am i if i put it in the fridge to microwave tomorrow #yeah thats objectively like. disgusting #im gonna do it #mischiefing time

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth.

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all.

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier.

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can.

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips.

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you.

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him.

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work.

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did.

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide?

Shit.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became.

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy.

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen.

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped.

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian.

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan.

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose.

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care.

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something.

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping.

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position.

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily.

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind.

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key.

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself.

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down. You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued.

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round.

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm.

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly.

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up.

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest.

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned.

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other.

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else.

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do.

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way.

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.”

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate.

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock.

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on.

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off.

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves.

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes.

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips.

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle.

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust.

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful.

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days.

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh.

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you.

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him.

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back.

"Yes, pretty girl?"

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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quindolyn · 4 years

Text

General Relationship Headcanons || James Potter

Request: “Please can you do a general relationship for james potter? xx” -anon

Word Count: 5,835

Notes: This is kinda slow burn, I’m a little sorry. The ones I did for Remus and Sirius were not canon so this won’t be either which is a little easier because no Jily. These keep on getting longer and longer, but part of that is because Jamie is definitely my favorite marauder.

Warnings: Smut, angst, lots of fluff, dom and sub James, momma’s boy Jamie

Masterlist

You were something special

James had known that since he was 4 years old

It just took him a long time to realize exactly how special you really were

James Potter was an idiot

That would become increasingly apparent to him as he grew up

Your family and the Potters were great friends for as long as any of you could remember, meaning that you and James were practically attached at the hip

And who could blame you? He has such nice hips

The both of you are heart broken when he leaves for Hogwarts leaving you behind because you wouldn’t start until the following year.

All throughout his first year you guys write back and forth sharing every single detail of your respective days, down to the color of the plate you ate your lunch on

You can’t help but feel envious

There’s your best friend in the entire world, in fucking Scotland

Making new best friends

When the next year rolls around and you get to finally join James on the Hogwarts Express you want to hate Sirius and Remus

You really do

But how can you? They’re Remus and Sirius

You guys spend the entirety of the train ride laughing and talking and the other two boys tell you embarrassing stories from the year prior about James

When they hear your nicknames for him (Jamsie, Jamie, J), they make fun of him relentlessly

He calls you an assortment of cheesy nicknames too but his favorites, before you guys get together, are “Sweetheart”, “Sunshine”, and “love”

If you get sorted into Gryffindor James screams his head off for you, making room for you to sit next to him at the table in the Great Hall, opposite Sirius and Remus.

If you’re in a different house then James gets sad, really sad, like that night he cries into his pillow and Sirius has to climb into bed with him to give him hugs and tell him that its okay even if the two of you are in different houses. That doesn’t have to affect your friendship if you don’t let it.

The next day James would find you before you got to the Great Hall and engulf you in a hug in the middle of the corridor, not caring that there were people streaming past the two of you in either direction.

“We’re gonna be friends forever right (Y/N/N)?”

“I hope so Jamie.”

Even though you’re in different classes and potentially different houses you guys are around each other all of the time

You sit with him and the other boys at their place at the Gryffindor table

They sit with you in the library

And by the end of your first year you’re having sleepovers in their dorm

You sleep in James’ bed of course and Remus and Sirius do. Not. hesitate. To mock you relentlessly

“You and your girlfriend getting comfy over there Jamie?”

“Go to hell Siri, let me cuddle James in peace!”

These jokes continue through your years at Hogwarts and you and James take them in jest

As you guys get older the physical affection you share never dwindles

After someone made a crude comment in the hallway about the two of you he talked to you making sure that you were okay with the arms he would throw over your shoulders, the arms wrapped around you waist, the kisses to your forehead before he left the Great Hall for class, holding you in his arms in the Gryffindor common room as the two of you drifted to sleep.

You assure him that its okay, that its not weird because you guys have been best friends since forever and that you love how affectionate you are with each other

You don’t start to realize you feelings for James until he starts pining after Lily, you don’t know what you have until its gone, right?

Watching him stare at her in the Great Hall

Writing her little notes that even though he’ll go up and ask her out in front of everyone, which you’re not too fond of either, he’s too shy to actually give her

Listening to him go on and on about her, her hair, the cadence of her voice, the beautiful color of her eyes, how intelligent she is, and on and on

Sirius picks up on this instantly

And he does not hesitate to make fun of you for it all the time, obviously not enough for James to pick up on it because he’s a prick not a complete asshole, but still enough to make you blush uncontrollably

You can’t say anything to him though because he’s your James and there’s absolutely no way that he returns your feelings, you’re like a little sister to him

So, much to Sirius’ chagrin, you swallow your feelings and sit there by James, trying to listen to Remus as he tries to explain to you your Charms homework while James watches Lily on the other side of the Common Room laughing with Dorcas and Marlene

And a little piece of your soul dies

The summer between your third and fourth year, his fourth and fifth, you were excited to finally have your Jamsie back to yourself again.

It went without saying that the two of you would alternate between each other’s houses over the summer

There would be no Lily Evans to distract him

No exams to stress over

Just you and James at the Potter estate, exploring the woods that, in all honesty, didn’t change all that much from summer to summer, and swimming in the bioluminescent pond on the edge of the Potter property, simply floating next to each other on your backs, one of his hands grasping your forearm, making sure you didn’t float too far away from him

But apparently this year it didn’t go without saying.

Instead, a mere month before the end of the term, James regretfully tells you that he and his family are going to Spain for the summer to be with his aunt who lives there and he really wants to take you but its the entire summer and his parents nixed it

“I’m so sorry sunshine, I really want to take you but-”

“It’s okay Jamie, I get it if you could you’d take me, but you can’t so its fine. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

And you can tell that he’s genuinely upset about it but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt any less when you hug him goodbye at King’s Cross knowing that unlike years prior you weren’t going to see him in a few days.

You spend a good chunk of the summer wallowing, not necessarily because your crush isn’t there with you but because your best friend isn’t

James writes you every day just like he did during his first year at Hogwarts but its not the same because you can’t see him

You can’t hold onto his arm when you’re tired and set your head on his shoulder

So when September 1st rolls around and you finally get to see him again you’re down right giddy

But on Platform 9 ¾ you’re looking for a wiry, lanky boy, with a nose a little too big for his face, and a squeaky little voice

Not the 6 foot man who approaches you, with broad shoulders and budding facial hair along his jawline.

“Sunshine!”

Oh holy shit

His voice

He no longer sounds like a dog toy, a very cute dog toy but still

You must admit that you’re a fan of the change, as the word leaves his lips you imagine resting your head on his chest and feeling the vibrations as he spoke with whomever

Its not a single day that you’re back at Hogwarts before James is fawning all over Lily again and you’ve had enough of it

You’re not going to let yourself to keep on pining after a boy who doesn’t love you

Not even doesn’t love you

But loves someone else

Sirius finds you a couple weeks into the school year, sitting with your back against a wall in an empty corridor trying to hold in your tears.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I-I can’t believe I let myself fall for him. I’m an idiot Si!”

Sirius holds you in that hallway, rocking you back and forth while he murmurs to you that James is the idiot, not you, and that you deserve so much more than him

He helps you concoct a plan to get over James, he pitches to you going out on a date with someone else

Doesn’t have to be anything all that serious, just something to get your mind off James and remind you how hot you are, and how many people are lining up for you to give them so much as a moment of your time.

It doesn’t take too much on Sirius’ part to get you to agree to let him set you up

His name was Sullivan, he was in your year, a year younger than Sirius, with sandy blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes

Sully, as he insisted you call him, took you for a butter beer at the Three Broomsticks

You had a good time, Sully was smart, and attractive, and you and he shared similar interests

And all though he was lovely, and he insisted you were too, the both of you agreed that you would be better off as friends

You spent more time with him in the following weeks and less with James, Sirius, and Remus

The latter two were very happy that you were trying to move on because watching you stare at James was a little sad

James is confused, and hurt, and jealous

Though he adamantly refuses to admit that last one

Instead he just watches you. All. Of. The. Time.

To the point where if it wasn’t James it would be disturbing

And even though it is him it gets touch concerning

Sometimes before you go and sit with the Marauders at their spot in the Great Hall you’ll stop by where Sullivan sits with his friends and give him a smile, talk for a few minutes before hugging each other and walking away

It made James’ blood boil

Who did this kid think he was, you were his best friend he didn’t get to just waltz in and take you, or Godric forbid date you

One day you’re sitting outside with the boys when you see Sullivan on the other side of the court yard, excusing yourself you walk up to him and chat for a couple minutes before Sullivan’s face goes pale and there’s a shadow looming over you.

James throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side while extending his hand to Sully

“Hi, I’m James, (Y/N/N)’s best friend.”

James is standing there with you guys maybe 2 minutes, being the most passive aggressive petty person he could possibly be, dropping not so subtle hints about his distaste for Sully before he’s tugging you back to the tree where Siri and Remmy still are, their hands resting dangerously close to each other’s

“What the fuck James!”

He plays dumb because if there’s one thing James Potter is good at its being an idiot, but eventually he relents

“I just don’t like the way he looks at you, it's like he’s trying to get into your pants!”

You start cackling

Borderline manically

“You’ve got to be kidding me James we’re just friends!”

Sirius being the eternally helpful human being he was added in his two cents, “Maybe you’re projecting Potter!”

And the laughing stops

James goes beet red, you feel all the blood drain from your face before collecting yourself and murmuring a quick apology before racing off for the castle

You and James don’t talk for 2 days

It's the longest either of you have gone without some form of communication

You’re both so embarrased and you don’t want to hear James tell you that he doesn’t actually like you and that it was just Sirius being an asshole

Of course he would say this to make you comfortable but that’s not what it would do

It would crush you

You don’t have classes together so it's easy to ignore him there, and if you’re in separate houses it's even easier

Meals

Now that’s a different story

You can’t just eat somewhere else and the prospect of facing James after what Sirius said has you running for the nearest toilet

So you scrounge up what you can in the kitchen after meals

It kills James that he’s only seen you on the other side of the courtyard or disappearing behind corridors

You’re supposed to be his Sunshine, he can’t stand that you’re hiding from him, he misses you so much

And at first he’s a little angry when you don’t sit with them at meals, but after scanning the Great Hall, he realizes you’re not there

His stomach drops, have you not been eating?

So dinner the second night he collects a plate for you with all of your favorite things and determinedly sets off for your dorm, balancing a plate in one hand and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other

He has to knock on your door with his foot

“Jamie, what’re you doing here.”

He gently pushes past you letting himself into your room to set the plate and glass on your desk

“You haven’t been eating.”

And despite yourself your heart flutters, because he’s right you haven’t been eating as much as you should’ve not wanting to get caught in the kitchens you only swiped what you could easily get your hands on

But then you have to remember, it's because you’re basically his little sister, not because he reciprocates your feelings

“I’ve missed you Sunshine.”

And you lose it

“Stop! Stop it Jamie I can’t take it anymore, you can’t keep calling me Sunshine and Sweetheart and Love and cuddle with me on the couch and then turn around and declare your undying love for Lily fucking Evans. I can’t do it anymore! I like you, differently than you like me and I can’t do this anymore!”

Poor Jamsie has never felt like more of an absolute asshole

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t revel just a little bit in the look on his face, didn’t feel a little triumph that maybe he felt even a fraction as bad as you did.

He’s an idiot and he realizes it

You’re both very quiet for a minute before he walks up to you so that you’re a mere inch from him before he gulps and leans down to press his lips to yours

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

“Always Jamsie.”

It's not as though much changes between the two of you on the surface once you’re together

You’re a bit more touchy feely with each other, kisses usually pressed to foreheads or temples often find themselves brushing at the other’s lips

He holds your hand a lot more freely now and more often than not it will end up clasping your thigh under the table in the Great Hall, or after having pushed your chairs together in the library so they touched

When you curl up together in the Gryffindor common room his hands find their way under your shirt, lightly tracing the skin of your stomach, pressing kisses to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder

His arsenal of nicknames expands impressively

Angel, darling, beautiful, gorgeous, poppet, pretty girl, mine

And he’ll add the occasional my before the word “love”

You already slept over in their dorm room every other night before you and James got together but now it's more of a nightly occurrence

Especially the day before a Quidditch match, James insists that he sleeps with his lucky charm, says you keep him calm

You cheer the hardest for James at his matches, bar maybe Sirius

Even if you’re in a different house you sit with Siri and Remus in the Gryffindor stands and get all decked out in red and gold

Now that you’re his he has no problem with Sullivan, he trusts you and by extension he trusts the people you trust

You’re touched one day, early on into your relationship, when Lily comes up to you in the Great Hall and tells you that you didn’t have to tell James to tell her that he was sorry for being a prick and not taking no for an answer.

You don’t tell her this but you didn’t ask him to do anything

James is just a good person

He also has an abundance of money and little impulse control

He’ll buy you literally anything he sees that reminds him of you, or if he remembers you bringing up that you wanted or needed it

He likes buying you jewelry because you can wear it more often than you could say the same dress or blouse

That’s not to say that he doesn’t buy you clothes too, he has all of your sizes memorized and knows whether you wear normal/petite/tall

James Potter will buy you pads/tampons/whatever product you use

He’s a man not a little boy and he doesn’t give a flying fuck if someone makes fun of him for it

One day Lucius calls him out for it and Jamie is just not having it

“You have no clue where the clit is or what to do with it do you Malfoy?”

He’s always helped you through your periods so now that you’re together he’s just more liberal with his touch because he knows how much you love it

He knows how to do basic hairstyles and such because he watched his mom when he was a little boy and watch your mom do your hair too

If your hair requires special treatments and hairstyles he will write to your mom, asking for her to teach you because he loves your hair and wants to be able to help you, like imagine sitting in his bed while he puts braids in your hair following the instructions your mom sent him

Speaking of families when he tells Euphemia you two are together (which he does as soon as he leaves your dorm that night) she literally screams

Fleamont was worried that she was being attacked

But the next day at breakfast you get a letter from Euphemia stained with dried tear drops as she poured her heart out to you, telling you how much she loved you and that if her son ever broke your heart you were to go to her immediately and she would deal with him for you

The year you finally become boyfriend and girlfriend is the year you all become animaguses

James tries to argue with you, insisting that you shouldn’t do it because it's dangerous and he doesn’t want you getting hurt

Your rebuttal is that isn’t it just as dangerous for him? And if you’re not doing it neither is he and that leaves Sirius which just wouldn’t end well

He’s so proud of you when you transform for the first time, he gets so distracted watching you that he forgets where he is for a moment

That summer, unlike the one previous, you and James spend all of your time together

You spend the entirety of the holiday at the Potter estate doing all the things that you and Jamie used to do when you were younger, only this time its better

Instead of being childhood friends you’re each other’s

You can kiss him, and hold his hand, and he can lift up your hair to kiss the back of your neck

Euphemia lets you guys sleep in the same bed but before that she sits the two of you down and gives you the talk

“Now (Y/N), I don’t know if your parents have ever discussed this with you but if you two are going to be sharing a bed I think it's important we go over it.”

There’s so much blushing and whining from James

“Muuuummmm.”

One night you guys are lying on the floor of his bedroom wearing the absolute bare minimum because it was so hot and humid out when you pitched the idea of going skinny dipping

James is hesitant at first because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

But you insist that you’re fine and point out to him that it was you idea not his

Being the gentleman he is when you strip by the lake he looks away making you laugh

When you turn him to look at you his jaw drops

You’re even more gorgeous than he could’ve ever imagined

It's dark out but the light from the lake allows you to drink in your figure

He blushes so much you’d think that he was the one naked

When he does strip too he grabs you and jumps into the water, you guys are all over each other, running your hands up and down his chest, his hands are supporting your bum while your legs wrap around his waist

You have sex that night, for the first time, he was very gentle with you and holds your hand when he breaks you hymen and if you cry he kisses away your tears

“Do you wanna stop baby? Does it hurt too much? We can stop.”

James is one of two things depending on your preference

We have soft dom!James and sub!James

I personally appreciate a healthy mix of both

Starting with soft dom!James, he would be so gentle with you

Also very firm though, if you broke any of his rules he would not hesitate to punish you

He’s a thigh man through and through

Doesn’t matter if we’re talking dom or sub, the man lives for your thighs

Which makes his favorite form of punishment laying you across his lap to spank you, but most of the time his blows land on more of your thighs than they do your bum

He makes you count as he spanks you too and after every blow you have to thank him

“One! Thank you Daddy!”

And if you ever call him James instead of Daddy during sex he’ll stick his fingers in your mouth and make you choke on them, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes, “S’okay baby, you’re okay. Can you do this for me? Can you take my fingers like the good girl I know you are?”

He loves taking you up against a wall, especially in the locker rooms after a Quidditch match

Shower sex is one of his favorites, thinks you look absolutely gorgeous, soaking wet and moaning for him, not to mention he get’s to fuck you up against the wall

This is the point in the headcanon where I urge you all to go read the blurbs by @randomoutsiders where Remus and Sirius teach James how to brat tame you, she captures his essence perfectly

He loves to blindfold you, he likes the little jump he gets out of you when he touches you

He gives you the most condescending mocking smiles

What comes to mind is the first time he makes you squirt, he’s so proud of both himself and you

“Good girl, look at that, look at how much of a mess you made for me angel. So pretty, good job.”

He then proceeds to lick the mess you just made off of you

He loves buying you lingerie

He likes it in a deep red and black

Loves ripping it off of you, absolutely adores it

After care with him would be so soft and sweet, he loves taking baths with you so he can clean you up and kiss all the places he left bruises while he murmurs to you about what a good girl you were and how proud he is of you

One night he tells you that if Godric forbid the two of you ever split up and you’re with someone else that after care is necessary and that you’re precious and deserved to be treated as such

He treats you like a goddess

Sub!James is just as precious

He’s also my current obsession so stick with me here

He’s just so eager to please, always wanting to make you feel good and not even caring all that much if he gets off himself

Just so centered around making you feel good

He calls you “Mommy” and I will not be accepting criticism

I feel like “Mistress” is too impersonal if that makes much sense

The former is just so intimate and James wears his heart out on his sleeve

James is rarely if ever a brat, usually when he’s disappointed in himself and he takes it out on you and you have to remind him how to be a good boy

And the rest of the time when he breaks a rule it's completely on accident and he’ll come to you and tell you about it to apologize

He feels so guilty, like he’s failed you

Especially if he touches himself without your permission, it's almost enough to keep him from doing it but he’s still a horny teenaged boy and can’t help himself sometimes

Most of the time though you’ll end up with a horny James knocking on your dorm door begging you to help him

He prefers giving you head than you giving him head

That’s not to say that the visual of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth isn’t appealing, it most certainly is

He just loves that he can make you feel that good with just his tongue

James also loves how you taste, tells you it’s better than candy

Which makes you smile like an idiot

Will finger you under the table in the library if you ask him to, it's not like he was paying that much attention to his homework in the first place, and even if he had been you are without a doubt more important

Loves it when you ride him

Absolutely adores it, he loves the way your tits bounce which is why he prefers cowgirl to reverse cowgirl because he can keep his hands on your tits and on your thighs

He asks you for a cock ring, loves that you get to decide when he gets to cum

Extra points if its a vibrating one

With his consent of course, you tie him up and make him watch while Sirius and Remus fuck the living day lights out of you, barely paying him any mind while you scream for the cocks of his two best friends

He likes being tied up in general allowed to look and only look

The first time you peg him he almost cries it feels so good

And you take his sniffling as a sign he doesn’t like it and that he’s hurt, he has to explain to you that that is not it and “You make me feel so good Mommy.”

His whimpers and moans are the most precious things and he’s very vocal

Screaming your name and begging you to cum

He is not shy to beg you

To cum

To make you cum

To get to so much as look at you

Baby boy has absolutely no shame

I especially like sub!James because he’s such a cocky asshole 90% of the time but he’s also the kindest, most considerate soul and he spends so much of his life helping others that sometimes he just wants you to be in control

Regardless of sub or dom James you were making out on his couch that summer, your hands in his hair, his fumbling with the clasp on your bra when there was a pounding at his front door

He makes you stay where you are because he doesn’t want you to get hurt but its just Sirius

Well not just Sirius

He was bloodied and broken and looked like he’d been to hell and back

When he told the two of you what happened, how he’d been disowned and had nowhere else to go, while Euphemia tended to his wounds James engulfed him into the biggest hug and they just sit there, Sirius crying into James’ chest while James ran his hands up and down Sirius’ back whispering to him about how it was going to be alright that he was safe, that no one was ever going to hurt him again.

About 2 or so hours after you’d all retired for the night, you and James snuggled together in his bed you awoke when the door to his room creaked open

There was Sirius, with tears streaming down his face, his bottom lip wobbling

After untangling yourself from James you walked over to him, taking his hand in yours and leading him over to the bed

“James, scooch over.”

“Huh?”

“Scooch!”

When he opens his eyes and sees his Sirius standing there, bashfully ducking his head he quickly moves over and you and Sirius settle into the bed with him in the middle

You and James pet his hair hold his hands while you tell him how much the both of you love him and how you’re never going to let anything bad happen to him again

You fall asleep that night with James spooning Sirius from the back and you with your body curled into Sirius’s front, his head resting on your chest

When you go back to Hogwarts you often end up in this position in their dorm room only add Remus into the mix

You’re a year behind all of them at school meaning that when they graduate you’re still stuck their for a whole nother year without any of them

And it nearly kills all of you

You and James most, though you write to each other every day it's still not the same as him actually being there with you

When you get particularly desperate to see him he apparates to Hogsmeade where he becomes Prongs and meets you in the Forbidden Forest where you basically just spend the entire time holding each other and telling the other how much you love them

He cries at your graduation, full on blubbers

“That’s my girl!”

Insists that you look better in your graduation cap than anyone else

Doesn’t relent when you tell him how ridiculous that is

You guys move in together as soon as you graduate, it’s barely even a discussion because you guys can always tell what the other is thinking

“Hey babe, do you wanna-”

“Yeah Jamie, when you wanna go look at apartments?”

He loves going shopping for your apartment, he has so much fun looking at color swatches and different fabrics

He insists that you guys decorate at least part of the apartment in Gryffindor colors

Wolfstar lives down the street from you guys and you have biweekly coffee dates together at a little coffee shop in between your two houses.

After a year or so you realise that you and James still aren’t married, and you get very self conscious

Does he not want to spend the rest of his life with you?

Does he not love you as much as you love him?

It completely eats you up

And James can tell that something’s up

When he asks you you confess your worries to him and his heart breaks

He never wanted to make you feel like he didn’t love you

Because of course he loved you

You were his everything, you were his Sunshine

After telling you all of this he goes rummaging through his drawers looking for something

That’s how you find him when you wake up to him accidentally dropping something results in a loud bang

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

When you find him he’s standing bashfully, blushing with his head down, his hands holding something behind his back

“James?”

And that’s when he gets down on one knee and pulls the small velvet box from behind his back

“This isn’t how I wanted to do it darling, but I spend every single day thinking about you, you’re the first thing I think of in the morning and I fall asleep with you in my arms thinking about how much I love you and how I don’t know if I could live my life without you. I’m so sorry if I’ve ever made you feel differently, I can’t believe I was enough of an idiot to ever hurt you, in any way. Even though I most certainly don’t deserve you, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive and marrying me?”

Euphemia plans your wedding with the help of Sirius

They go all out

There may or may not be a life size ice sculpture of you and James per Sirius' request

Married life is absolute bliss for the two of you

You wake up every morning with that ring on your bedside table (do people sleep in their engagement rings and wedding bands? I’m a child of divorce whose parents are both children of divorce, true love is a foreign concept) to remind you of the beautiful man beside you

Both sub and dom James go absolutely wild on your wedding night, he can’t believe your Mrs. Potter, that your his

Its that night that you pregnant

Though you don’t know it for almost 2 months

James is the best husband

He carries you everywhere, even when you’re not showing

And he can because fuck that man is strong

He’ll carry you upstairs at night and down them in the morning and to the sofa

You can only move by yourself when he’s not looking

James is really good at puzzles and putting things together so it takes him less than 2 hours to put all the furniture together for the nursery

Which he insists you paint yellow, the color of sunshine

One of the first things he buys is a little Gryffindor onesie for your baby

When he comes James has him in it all of the time

When you go into labor he’s very calm and collected

Euphemia is there to help the both of you because that’s the person he first called when you had your first contraction

He holds your hand the entire time, kissing you, and coaching you along, telling you how good you’re doing, how proud he is of you

He cries when he first sees his son, he’s so beautiful

Even though he’s basically the spitting image of James, Jamie swears that he looks so much like you

Once the doctors and nurses leave the room he climbs into bed beside you, throwing and arm over your shoulder as you cradle your little boy in your arms

“He’s beautiful Jamie.”

“Just like his mother.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter headcanons #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #marauders headcanons #maruders smut #marauders fluff #marauders x reader #marauders angst #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter headcanon #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter smut

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makeste · 4 years

Text

“...and I bullied him.”

hello, hello, good afternoon or evening or whatever time it is. so by now we’ve all had some time to bask in those “Kacchan admitted he cares about Deku” feels (well, technically they were “All Might pointed out that Kacchan was worried about Deku and Kacchan didn’t deny it” feels, BUT THOSE MIGHT AS WELL BE THE SAME FEELS, YOU KNOW). and it’s been lovely. I’ve been having a time. it’s been nice.

but now I would like to talk a bit more about a part of this chapter which I think was even more important.

for me, this was the line of the chapter. this one panel may honestly be the biggest piece of Kacchan character development since all the way back in chapter 120. “I ended up bullying him.” okay but guys?? can we just talk?? about how absolutely extraordinary this one sentence is.

it’s self-aware.

introspection? from a kid who’s had to be dragged kicking and screaming to every character development milestone he’s ever experienced in his life? and on an emotional level that actually goes deeper, and doesn’t just stop at the surface-level anger that’s so often his instinctive reaction to everything? who are you and what have you done with Bakugou Katsuki lol.

but seriously, the level of self-analysis here almost stunned me, guys. not only does he demonstrate a very impressive level of insight into Deku (something I especially love because it mirrors the many analyses Deku has made of him, and shows that the understanding between them is actually mutual), but he also shows an unprecedented degree of insight into himself. like, historically speaking, Bakugou and Feelings have not always exactly been on the same page, you know? so for him to suddenly get so thoughtful now, and sincerely try to analyze these feelings which up until now he’s always ignored and avoided dealing with... that is such a huge step. also, bonus points: he recognizes it as a problem within himself, and doesn’t try to pin the blame on Deku in any way. he recognizes that he’s the one who reacted badly to Deku’s behavior. to be able to examine your own feelings like that and arrive at a conclusion that acknowledges that you’re not the good guy in this, that you’re the one who made the mistake -- that takes a level of accountability that not everyone possesses.

it’s self-prompted.

okay this one is a big deal honestly. no one put a gun to Katsuki’s head here and forced him to confess this. all All Might said was “you’re worried about him too” and that somehow prompted a level of emotional honesty that Katsuki has never before shown. now, based on the fact that the successors’ notebook is still fresh in Katsuki’s mind, and that All Might mentioned earlier that Aizawa couldn’t help because he was “busy at the moment”, this conversation likely took place shortly after the kids returned from their New Year’s break. meaning that this was basically right after the Endeavor internship arc, when thoughts about seeking atonement were still fresh on Katsuki’s mind. so this isn’t entirely out of the blue; it shows that Katsuki did, in fact, learn exactly what All Might was hoping he would learn from Endeavor.

but it’s one thing for this to be on his mind, and another thing entirely for him to actually confess it out loud. and I absolutely will give him full credit for that. he admits, without anyone forcing him to, that he bullied Deku. there’s no incentive for him to do this whatsoever. Deku isn’t there to hear it. he’s not admitting it for the purposes of seeking forgiveness. he’s simply just being honest, and owning up to what he did because he realizes it was wrong. and that takes a lot of inner strength, to do that. to not shy away from it and keep pretending like it never happened. this is a huge first step for him.

it’s a confession that leaves him emotionally vulnerable.

this is another big one. it’s not always evident because he makes a big effort to downplay it, but Katsuki looks up to All Might every bit as much as Deku does. he seeks his approval, he wants All Might to be proud of him, even though he very often puts on a big show of not caring about it at all. it means a lot to him. a lot.

and Katsuki knows how much All Might cares about Deku. and sure, All Might is already perfectly aware that Katsuki and Deku aren’t exactly on the best of terms, and he’s always been understanding about it; always gently compassionate and attempting to smooth things out between them without being judgmental.

but All Might also doesn’t know everything about the two of them. and even with Kacchan and Deku’s relationship never exactly being on the most rock solid of terms at U.A., there’s still a vast difference between the way they interact there, and the way that they interacted back in middle school. when Katsuki was not only hostile, but occasionally downright cruel. and when Deku was still quirkless, and very much not on equal footing with Kacchan in terms of power, and yet Kacchan bullied him anyway.

what Katsuki is confessing here puts him at risk of rejection from one of the people whose opinion of him matters the most. he’s opening himself up to the possibility that All Might might not, for once, react with his trademark understanding. he’s admitting to All Might, I did something unherolike, and I hurt someone you care about, and I didn’t have a good reason for doing it. All Might, in the moment immediately following this statement, has an incredible amount of power over Katsuki. he has the ability to withdraw his support, to condemn him, to pull away and decide that Katsuki is not someone worthy of becoming a hero after all. he has all the power in the world over Katsuki in this one moment; a rejection from him would be a blow he’d never recover from.

and Katsuki, knowing this, tells him anyway. willingly opens himself up to that possibility of being hurt, of being rejected and shunned by the person who inspired his dream. because the alternative is being dishonest with him. this is, in short, a decision made because he believes All Might deserves to know this, and deserves to hear the truth from him. he wants his approval so badly, but he can’t live with the knowledge that he’s “tricked” him into giving it. so he tells him the truth, ready to face whatever consequences might arise from that. and I think that might be one of the bravest things he’s ever done.

it’s not attempting to shirk responsibility.

this, right here, is why Katsuki is my favorite character. because even though he’s flawed, even though he’s made a lot of mistakes, when he realizes that and is confronted by it, he never tries to hide from them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: to me, the essence of Katsuki is that he is someone who is always trying to be better. he wants to be a good hero; he wants to be a good person. when people point out to him that he’s done something wrong, he listens. it doesn’t always sink in right away, sure, and sometimes he gets stubborn and it can be hard to hammer that truth in. but once he gets it, he always makes the change. he never tries to make excuses. he owns up to his shit and does his best to course correct.

with this acknowledgement here, that he bullied Deku, there’s no attempt on his part to say that it was Deku’s fault, that Deku shouldn’t have done this or that. he doesn’t blame his parents or his teachers or try to act like he didn’t know any better. he makes no attempt whatsoever to justify it. it’s just simple, honest truth. back then, I ignored my own weakness, so I ended up bullying him. it’s a plea of guilt. no attempt to mitigate it or downplay it. the verb he uses, “ijimeta”, doesn’t water it down.

“to ill-treat; to torment; to be cruel to.” there’s no attempt here to paint this in a flattering light at all. which is good. because in order for him to really atone for it, to really go the distance in his redemption arc which we’re all rooting for him to do, the most important step is for him to take responsibility. he can’t learn from it if he’s trying to hide from it or make excuses for what he did wrong. he has to fully acknowledge his mistakes. and that’s exactly what this is.

it shows remorse.

that’s right y’all. they sent my boy out to do an internship with Endeavor over the holidays, and he came back having learned the true meaning of Christmas. his heart really did grow three sizes. honey badger does care.

there is genuine, sincere remorse for his actions here. he’s sorry for what he did. he regrets what he did. there’s real contrition there. it’s not forced or insincere. again, nobody made him say this! nobody pressured him, nobody led him on. these are his own feelings. I bullied Deku. I shouldn’t have done that to him. I want to atone for it.

I know some people in fandom don’t think this is enough. the same thing happened with Endeavor as well. people aren’t always satisfied with restorative justice; they want retribution. they want punishment for his actions. and that’s a natural feeling; it stems back to that instinct of wanting everything to be fair, which I mentioned in another meta not too long ago.

but the thing is, retributive, punitive justice doesn’t actually help anyone. it doesn’t restore what was lost. Katsuki being punished doesn’t do anything to undo what was done to Deku. it doesn’t do anything to heal the harm that was dealt. it doesn’t do anything to make things better for either of them moving forward.

but do you know what does? restorative justice. making amends. which is exactly what this is building up to now.

it shows an understanding that remorse is not enough, and that in order to move forward he has to take action to be a better person.

Katsuki understands that simply being sorry for what he did is not enough. I suspect that’s one reason why he hasn’t attempted to apologize to Deku yet; because he recognizes that after years of tormenting him for stupid and self-centered reasons, a simple apology might seem meaningless at best and self-serving at worst. it puts pressure on Deku to make a decision to either accept or not accept it. Katsuki saw the Todoroki siblings struggling with a similar conflict not too long ago. and he knows better than anyone else how selfless Deku can be. “deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?” and so if Katsuki simply apologizes, Deku might end up offering forgiveness that he doesn’t actually deserve, just because Deku is that kind of person who puts others above himself.

and so rather, what Katsuki has opted to do for now is to put all his efforts into helping Deku. he knows Deku is in a considerable amount of danger. he knows how much Deku has on his plate with the SIXQUIRKS and trying to handle all of that. and he knows there are other potential dangers looming which they don’t even know about yet. he’s been alert and anxious about this -- you saw how quickly his mind leaped to worst-case scenarios about the past OFA users; how he was sure that All Might was hiding something from them, and how agitated and apprehensive he got thinking about what that might be.

“I’m worried for him. you are, too,” All Might said. and Katsuki didn’t deny it. didn’t even try. he is worried about Deku. he’s worried about what he has to face. he’s worried about him getting in over his head and something happening to him. and so the way that he has chosen to try and atone is to help him. with his training, with his quirks; whatever he can do. if he needs to push him he’ll push him. whatever he can do to help make him stronger. and if he needs to protect him, he’ll do that too.

atonement is not the same thing as forgiveness. atonement is about trying to make up for what you did, to try and correct your mistakes however you can. it doesn’t mean you’re pardoned from them. all it means is that you’ve acknowledged them, and are doing your best -- doing whatever you can -- to repair the harm done, and to be a better person going forward. and sometimes there is no way to ever completely make up for it. sometimes you can’t undo the harm, because you can’t go back and change the past. the only thing you can change is the now, and the future.

and so Katsuki is trying to atone. he’s trying to be the friend Deku deserves now, since he wasn’t before. he’s trying his best to make things right, and it all starts with this one sentence. that acknowledgement of what he did, of what can’t be changed. acknowledgement of the mistake, so that he can learn from it, so that it never happens again.

so yeah. BnHA Redemption Arcs strike again. Horikoshi you smooth son of a bitch.

#bnha 284 #bakugou katsuki #all might #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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siriusmydeer · 4 years

Note

🌗congrats on 800 followers!! could I have a blurb -angst prompt 24 please?

her maroon lipstick

sirius black x fem!reader

summary: sirius looked at everyone but you

word count: 1.1k

warnings: cheating, hinted wolfstar, blackinnon bc that deserves a warning, unrequited love, kissing, swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, angst, self doubt, insecurity, mentions of sex

a/n: if u couldnt tell inwas feeling mean today and isa told me to break her heart so: *que jazz hands*

you loved sirius black— maybe even adored the boy, but you knew you probably loved him a little bit too much. he loved you as well, he at-least told you he loved you, and you didn’t want to presume he was a liar. he had always looked at you, your looks, your body, your face but he never had truly seen you; your soul, your essence, you’re entire being.

he was always gazing at someone else entirely, you didn’t wanna know it, or see it, but you did. it didn’t matter who he was looking at but it definitely wasn’t you. wether it was his lycanthrope of a bestfriend, or the local gryffindor beater marlene fucking mckinnon, they weren’t you.

throughly the same frequent sentences were pushed into the back of your mind with the same coherent words, ‘it’s fine, they’re just hanging out.’ or ‘it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.’ but those were simply just your excuses for him.

that night before a quidditch game you had been blown off, yet a-fucking-gain. you truly weren’t surprised, you expected his neglect. but the feeling of dejection truly lingered through every nerve in your bloodstream. you weren’t the number one in his life; you were a backup, a second option, or your personal least favourite.... just not enough.

because marlene, was more important. he had to go study with her— i mean since when does sirius fucking study? he simply doesn’t, he doesn’t study, and he doesn’t fucking care. but still reminding yourself, ‘it’s fine, they’re just going over stuff.’ i mean even james and peter had perceived something you were unaware of.

a day later, a gryffindor win— against slytherins of course, a significant calling for celebration. unconcerned you threw on a simple outfit, nothing too fancy, school was overrated as it is and a mini-league quidditch game certainly didn’t deserve a special outfit no matter how many times your friends detested to your statements. as soon as the game had ended, the raven-haired males eyes didn’t search for you rather a tall brunette with pearly white teeth and dark maroon lipstick.

sirius of course had his troublesome past, you knew of his family, and his sexual-run arounds that went to hogwarts. it wasn’t a shock to you, you had just denied yourself to be one of his easy people. but to your pure-promised heart, you didn’t just become one of them you became the one. not to love, but simply to fuck.

you were just company when nobody else could be, and even though you swore not too; you let yourself because you fell for him, or maybe it was his mask of flirty gestures and lingering kisses.

you made your way to the gryffindor tower, the hallways dead silent to the point where you could hear the drop of a pin or the swish of someone’s hair. the seventh years succeeding in performing a muffling charm that barred any supervisor from suspicion of a party.

as soon as the portrait whole swung at your mumble of the password you were met with immense clamour and uproar from all the celebrating students. the potent smell of marijuana and fire whisky hitting your nose, immediately scowling at the first whiff of the aroma.

couples had been scattered and sprawled across the deep-vermillion coloured couches. all noise drowned out by the deafening amount of rock music, picked by sirius no doubt.

you knew in the nook and crannies of your mind you should’ve scrabbled this together, it should of been suspected, or rather even bound to occur. but nobody should ever expect to see their boyfriend drunkenly making out with another woman, ever.

you didn’t want to cry, or look weak, i mean you felt ashamed. we’re you not good enough? we’re you had to him? did you not check up on him enough? but maybe it wasn’t on you— maybe it was on him.

maybe he was the one who fucked up— he didn’t treat you good enough. he didn’t spend enough time with you. all in that moment you felt— was the burning bitch of an emotion, rage. pure and simple rage.

you felt the thump and click in your feet as you belligerently marched over to the kissing bunch, his arms taking a harsh grip at her waist and the aroma of alcohol abundantly clear as you got closer.

you jabbed a few times on his shoulder, the rustled leather familiar underneath the pad of your pointer finger. the boy pulled away with a drunken-grimace, prepared to shout at anyone who had interrupted him until he saw it; your face filled with abundant anger.

oh shit— you had caught him right in the act.

“y/n, listen—“ the boy started before your eyebrows had creased in immense frustration and anger of his foolish excuses. choosing to ultimately speak first and think later.

“no, you listen sirius! you’ve treated me like absolute shit, like i’m the last fucking option in your palm— like i’m not your girlfriend that you have confided in, and kissed, and fucking slept with! i really don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t walk around acting like you own the place when you can’t get one damn thought straight. so you can’t come to me as a last option anymore, you can go stick your player bullshit right your own damn arse!” your voice was heaving in such anger of him, finally opting to pick yourself— not to be a second choice, not anymore.

after your monologue built over months and months of culpability for feeling like you couldn’t never be enough for him, and irritability that he had never truly cared was full forced in one speech cutting him off for good.

you quickly spun around the mahogany floor, striding directly out of the red and gold common room; you heard the quick pad of footsteps behind you whilst walking in the hallway, swivelling around again seeing your befuddled and tipsy ex-boyfriend try and catch up with your exasperated steps.

a deep shade of maroon smudged down the curvature of his lips and the planes of his olive-toned chin, yeah, fuck you sirius.

“now what the absolute fuck do you want now?” you whisper-shouted in the midst of the hallway, trying not to alert the attention of filch or professor mcgonagall.

“i love you, y/n, please—“ the boy attempted to plead in the midst of his sentence and deeply failing whilst slurring his words, the alcohol abstinently pining through his nervous system showcasing his bleary vision through his viewpoint; venturing for your forgiveness, but your decision had been made the moment he was caught locking lips with the gryffindor beater.

“tell me that when you’re sober.”

taglist: @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @dear-luna @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness

#sirius black x you #sirius black x daughter!reader #sirius black x gryffindor!reader #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #sirius black x slytherin reader #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black x oc #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

bullying megumi

This is for ms @shojotsude , she requested bullying + degrading megumi into an orgasm. Femme reader, everyone aged up third year & 18+, 1.4k words

Content warnings: degradation, bully reader

“You’re fucking pitiful.” Was this the first time you’d caught Megumi jerking off with your panties? No, sadly it wasn’t. Was this the first time you caught him doing it in your room? Yes.

“(Y/N), I- I- can explain-”

“Save it, pervert.” Slamming your door closed, your lip curled further in disgust at coming face to face with what was before you. Sat the edge of your bed with your panties wrapped tightly around his fist and cock and pants down around his ankles was Megumi Fushiguro. Someone you were supposed to look up to, come to for guidance.

Licking his lips nervously, Megumi kept fierce track of every movement you made. The slight drag of your feet as you got closer, the way your breathing was shallow, and especially the look of almost anguish on your face.

“Jeez, you act so high and mighty sometimes but look at the size of your cock. Absolutely tragic.” Your eyes had dropped down to between his legs and Megumi rushed to cover himself.

“I- I-”

“What’re you even trying to cover? Tell me, are you a fucking eunich or something?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you peered down your nose at him. Megumi’s face was flushed red and so was the rest of his body, even his cock looked like it was blushing.

Giving him a scathing once over, you shifted your weight on one foot and lifted the other, pressing it against the hands covering his crotch. Megumi hesitated for a moment, unsure of your intentions, but he let you press your shoe clad foot on his cock and he’s ashamed to admit he liked the way it made him shiver.

“Your cock’s so tiny it’s pathetic, my shoe covers it entirely.” Could the look on your face be anymore disdainful? You looked as if you might vomit any moment, yet Megumi ate it up willingly, spreading his legs a bit more and letting you rest more of your weight on him to help balance.

The tip of your shoe pressed against the tip of his cock and it had Megumi lurching forward, a shocked and pleased ripple going up his spine and making him scramble for purchase on your leg.

“Gross, don’t fucking touch me.” Shaking him off just as quickly as he’d touched you, you set your focus back on grinding your shoe on him. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this, it’s not like you deserve it.”

“Wait!” Your foot had started to slip, the pressure you put on him letting up, and Megumi couldn’t have that. Grabbing onto your ankle, he licked his lips again. “(Y/N) please- wait just- just give me this, please.” It was a rare sight to see the usually so composed Megumi speaking like this, pleading with you in a way that would make anyone chuckle a bit behind their hand at how desperate he sounded.

“What do I get out of this? Hm? Tell me, quickly.” You were stuck in limbo, weight shifting from leaning on Megumi to fully standing on your own.

“You get- uhm-” He was scrambling. Megumi was going to lose possibly the one and only opportunity he had to get you to touch him in any type of sexual way. He didn’t have anything to give you, he knew if he offered money you would scoff, and nothing else would suffice.

“Well? I’m waiting.” Yanking your foot from his hold, you peered down at Megumi.

“I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you ask whenever you ask it. Without question. I’ll- I’ll become your slave if that’s what you want. Just please-” Megumi grabbed your foot, forcing it against his aching cock, “please keep touching me.”

You took far too long to answer, in Megumi’s opinion. What at most was thirty seconds felt like an eternity of waiting, of holding his breath and watching as you thought his proposal over. The muscles in your leg relaxed slowly, willingly putting your weight on him this time.

“You better keep your fucking promise.” Grabbing your phone, you took a quick picture of Megumi before he could even process it. “Or I’m telling everyone. Spreading these pictures online and-”

“I swear! I swear I’ll keep it!” Megumi’s eyes became glossy as he pleaded with you. He didn’t care about that picture or the couple others you took right after. He didn’t care about what happened after this moment, all he wanted was right here and right now.

Huffing, you started to grind your foot against his cock again. Megumi let out a stilted moan, half of it catching in his throat. He knew he looked like a fucking idiot with his mouth hung open and head tilted back as you did this to him but he couldn’t be damned to change it.

He was already halfway to an orgasm before you came in, so the stimulation directly on his cockhead had Megumi’s mind going fuzzy. He was swimming, unable to focus properly on anything except for the way you felt touching him.

“Admit you’re fucking disgusting.” Your voice barely cut through the fuzz in his mind and Megumi fought to focus his eyes on you again. He must have let out an unintelligible noise because you rolled your eyes. “Admit you’re a disgusting little pervert.”

“I’m-” Bucking his hips up unexpectedly, Megumi swallowed thickly, “I’m fuck- fucking disgusting. A little pervert.”

“You also have a poor excuse for a dick.”

“I do, I do.” Megumi nodded with no hesitation. “It’s pathetic.”

“At least you know that.” Slipping your shoe down to his balls, you pressed lightly on them. “Jerk yourself off.”

Megumi didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping his hand tightly around his cock, Megumi fucked up into his hand. Your panties were wrapped perfectly around his shaft and fingers like he’d left them, adding the perfect amount of friction alongside the pleasurable squeeze of his balls beneath your foot.

“Shit-” He panted, bucking up and grinding against you. Every muscle in his body was beginning to tighten up, threatening to cramp. He was close, so painfully close and if you could just-

“Gross, are you going to cum? I bet nothing will even come out.” The sound of your mocking voice was doing it, spurring him on to the edge. “How long have you even been doing this? Two minutes and you’re already going to cum?”

“(Y/N)-”

“Shut up, don’t say my name. You’re so miserable, jerking off to a girl's panties in her room.” Megumi could hear your voice, he could hear the things you were saying but he could only respond with short, choking gasps. “You’ll never get a girlfriend, you’re too much of a wimp.”

You were saying other things, something about how he’ll have to be a worthless panty stealer forever, but Megumi couldn’t hear anymore over the rush in his ears as he came. All he could even fathom in this moment was the hot ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and coating his hand.

Your foot retracted the moment you saw the first bead of white and Megumi was left to stroke his cock to completion. His upper body rocked back and forth, unable to decide on whether to crumple forwards in on himself or fall backwards onto your bed.

You stayed silent as he came and continued to stroke himself well after the fact. Turning your foot over side to side, you were happy not to get any of Megumi’s cum on you. As soon as his hand stopped moving, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, not letting him bask in the afterglow at all.

“Get the fuck out.” Dragging him off the bed, you didn’t care about hurting him. Dragging him to the door, you threw it open. “Get out, out, out.”

“Okay!” Hastily pulling his pants up and fixing his shirt, Megumi grimaced at his clothes sticking to his cum covered skin.

“If I see you in my room again I’m beating the shit out of you.” Those were the last words out of your mouth before you slammed the door closed, and Megumi had to admit that hearing you threaten him like that had his cock already twitching back to life.

#jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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wizkiddx · 4 years

Text

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent.

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work.

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word.

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life.

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable.

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face.

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even.

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit.

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single.

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh.

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to.

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind.

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms.

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with.

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag.

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe.

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both.

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in.

You were going to be sick.

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out.

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe.

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs.

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled.

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening.

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now.

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh.

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state. “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist.

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since? You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up.

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence.

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his.

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right.

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle.

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it. Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest.

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in.

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it.

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line.

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you.

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks.

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence.

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead.

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too.

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain.

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying.

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over.

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again.

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally.

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment.

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders.

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice.

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips.

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you.

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x famous!reader

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softkuna · 4 years

Text

Sukuna || Interview || Fic

Part 1

Content ║ Punk!Sukuna x reader. There is an oc version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Swearing. Female Pronouns (she/her).

Creator ║ This is the reader version. I took the name of the oc out. Hopefully the double post isn’t too weird? I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!! Also, Sorry for changing from ‘you’ to she/her ;v; it’s a lot easier for me to write/edit this way.

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

“-didn’t you say the band?”

“Yeah, but this is better.”

“Sure… but what happens if-“

Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

The blogger whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

“Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

“I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. She held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

The interview process began.

She sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “With me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

“After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

Much of his dissertation, she hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

“There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

She leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but she found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and she would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

“You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Her head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as her pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

“Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.

“Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

“Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. She scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

“Let me check the tag.”

“What?”

The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also, sorry.”

Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

“I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

“While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

While the editor and videographer chatted together, She leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘She would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, if his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

“Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

Tags: @lovesakusa

#⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic #⛩.punk #🍺.jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.17|Brittana

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

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

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

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

“I saw that,” Quinn comments slyly.

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

She really couldn’t help it though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I guess so.”

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

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

If anyone deserves it, it’s Brittany.

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

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

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

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

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

“What an amazing performance,” Whitney compliments her.

Santana smiles bashfully, “Thank you.”

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

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

Whitney gives her a knowing smile before Pete excitedly interrupts.

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

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

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

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

Santana smirks, “Exactly.”

Pete matches her expression, “Super cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maribel sighs, “It’s not that, mija.”

“No? Then what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana frowns at that, but Maribel continues.

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

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

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

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

“You have to at least try, right?”

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

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

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

Santana only nods, hoping that she’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes her want to run and hide.

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

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

“I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hector doesn’t say a word, just listens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana nods as she bats away her tears.

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

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

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

Santana looks confused, “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Santana wonders with a nervous laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not sure?” Hector asks.

Santana pauses to wonder: Is she really unsure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana gives him a grin, “I know.”

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

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

\\\\\

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

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

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

No new messages. No missed calls.

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

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

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

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

Brittany blinks out of her thoughts, “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is Santana here?” Quinn asks Brittany.

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

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

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

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

Brittany nods, but she’s still not convinced.

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

“Where you off to?” Mike asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So kind of him,” Mercedes comments sarcastically.

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

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

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

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

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

“At least one song,” Mercedes says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something’s definitely up.

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

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

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

“I know,” Santana says shyly.

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

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

“The courage?”

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

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

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

Brittany bites her lip, “He did?”

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

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

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

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

“But you know what?” Santana asks.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana blushes, “Says you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how’d he take that?”

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

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

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

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” Santana hums.

“What’d you say?”

Santana shrugs coyly, “Just stuff.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and it makes Santana giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink up,” Brittany smirks while Santana cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True,” Quinn nods.

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

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

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

“Ooooh,” Mike and Sam tease in unison.

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

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

“What then?” Quinn wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Brittany starts to smile too.

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

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

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

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

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

“Duh.”

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

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

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

“They'd be crazy not to have you.”

“So you’ve said,” Brittany smirks.

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

“Maybe I'll see you there?”

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

“Yeah,” Santana says hesitantly.

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

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

Brittany’s speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana looks hopeful, “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Makes sense,” Brittany shrugs.

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

“Like me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“You and me both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brittany felt hopeful and then she remembers seeing her for the first time.

Santana, in her tight skirt and low-cut top. Santana, with her hair and make up perfectly styled. Santana, looking like she belonged on a cover of a magazine with how gorgeous she was just sitting poolside.

At the memory, Brittany glances from the door to her side where Santana watches quietly. She finds herself smiling at how it’s nearly the exact same spot as the first time she ever saw her.

“What?” Santana wonders, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking,” Brittany answers, “This spot is pretty special.”

Santana quirks a brow as she looks around, “Is it?”

“Totally,” Brittany replies before pointing over to the edge of the pool, “The first time I ever saw you, you were sitting right over there.”

Santana chuckles, “Was I?”

“Yup!” Brittany grins, “You were sitting by the pool with Quinn and I remember thinking how I’ve never seen a girl looking so sad at a party before.”

“Oh,” Santana blushes, “I used to hate coming to these things. You know, I nearly didn’t go to that one?”

“Really?”

“I just didn’t have the energy for it,” Santana shrugs, “But I showed up because I thought I had to – for appearances sake. Also because Quinn wanted to see Mike and she didn’t want to go alone.”

Brittany chuckles, “Well I’m glad you came anyway. Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself by being the sad girl…”

Brittany gives her a amused look, “I also remember thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

Santana smirks, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany starts to smirk too, “This spot is even more special now because this is where you kissed me for the first time.”

Santana softens, “It is, isn’t it?”

They keep trading these smitten grins as they sink into each other’s sides. It feels like it has been the longest day ever, but she’s so happy that she’s ending it like this – with Santana by her side in there little bubble of happiness and…so in love.

So in love, that gets Brittany thinking.

She contemplates if she really wants to be this truthful but she figures the alcohol is making her speak more freely than usual, so why not? Honesty has always been the best policy anyway, so Petey says.

“You want to hear something funny?” Brittany quietly asks a moment later.

“What?”

She inhales a shaky breath before saying, “I've never said that to anyone – I love you. I mean, I've had love for people and I've said I love you to people in like a friendly way and I of course tell my mom and Pete that I love them too but I've never meant it like this before.”

Santana stares back with this adorably confused look on her face and it makes Brittany blush. It all makes sense in her head, but she isn’t sure if it’s translating the right way out loud.

“I've never meant it like,” Brittany pauses for a moment before she smiles, “Like I’m in love with you.”

Santana turns to her with this awed expression on her face. It’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing or that Brittany’s speaking in gibberish. Dark brown eyes shift back and forth as if she’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t going to come. When Brittany only continues to stare back – sure and unwavering – Santana lets out a shy giggle.

“You're in love with me?” She asks breathlessly.

Brittany nods, “I am.”

“Wow,” Santana blushes. Her lips part and press after that but the words don’t form. It isn’t until Santana let’s out another shy giggle before staring back at Brittany and softening, “Well, don't I feel special.”

“So you should,” Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s trying so hard to be cool about it although she can tell that Santana’s anything but cool on the inside.

Santana gives her one last look of disbelief before leaning in like she’s about to tell her a deep dark secret, “You know what?”

“What?”

Santana bites her lip before saying, “I've never told anyone that I love them before. You’re the first.”

“Really?” Brittany feels like she’s floating again, “Now I feel special too.”

“So you should,” Santana teases.

Brittany giggles at her response before settling into her side.

What a whirlwind of a year it has been! Never would she have thought that this is how she’d be ending it, with an amazing girlfriend by her side and another championship title in her possession. It makes her wonder what the rest of the school year has in store for her, it makes her wonder what obstacles she’s bound to face.

She knows they’re inevitable, because nothing comes easy. If anything, this past year has taught her that much. But this time she has something she didn’t have before – she has someone she loves and who loves her back.

She has Santana.

With her, Brittany thinks anything is possible.

#Posting this final chapter is so satisfying lol #Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #QB!Britt

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crimsonfluidessence · 3 years

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Prompt 21: Feckless

Content Warning: Torture, Intense Psychological Warfare, Body Harm, Physical and Emotional Abuse It was just supposed to be getting his money back. That was all he wanted out of the woman. But oh, how quickly it had turned to seeing some of the purest forms of red Esredes was capable of seeing. Being pickpocketed in Ul'dah was to be expected to happen eventually- inconvenient that it occurred while he was trying to get supplies for his family, but just a detour to follow the woman into a more secluded space and request his money back. No big deal. He had his ability to cloak himself with an illusion, and so she didn't see him following her down past that door behind the Miner's guild and into an alley. He watched her begin to count his money with a smile on her face and a whisper of "Oh, yes." Just a common pickpocket. No need to escalate anything. "All right, little lady." He began, the illusion still disguising him, causing the woman to freeze and look around trying to locate his voice. Just to make it worse, he began pacing all around to make it more confusing as he spoke next. "Cute. Real cute little move you pulled back there, but I have places to be and so do you, no? Just give it back without trying anything and I'll leave. I'd rather not have anything unpleasant happen today now." "Who are you and what little move?" The woman hissed and tightened her hold on his gil pouch. "Don't play dumb with me, ma'am. Give me my gil back, please. Just toss it out in front of you." "This? Mine from the start," she retorted as she closed it up and put it away, then dashed past him and tried to run away. Esredes raised his hand up and fired a pink beam at the retreating woman's head without a second thought. The woman cursed sharply and she doubled back as her balance faltered, sliding a dagger out of her pocket to slash at the air. "What the hell are you?" With ease, Esredes moved behind her and rammed his sword handle into her upper back. She grunted and stumbled forward, then fell to the ground, the dagger clattering on the stone a good two feet away. She didn't get much time to struggle to get up before he knelt down and pinned her body under his legs, his sword arm securing her at the back as well. "For fuck's sake, Priya." The woman muttered under her breath as she found herself trapped. "Someone who wanted to mind his own fucking business and ask you nicely not to waste our time." Esredes finally answered her question as he retrieved the gil pouch from her pocket. The woman tried to fight back under his weight, but she was getting nowhere. She lashed a hand out to bat him away from her pocket, but Esredes lengthened his hand to form claws and slashed at it, and she tucked it back inside herself as he pushed down more with his sword. "You know, is it not a rule of thievery to fold it when you've bitten off more than you could chew? You'd do best to learn it." "As if you'd know," she spat out. "Leave me alone; it isn't like you'd need any of it!" "I was completely content to leave you alone before you pickpocketed me, thank you very much. And you don't know anything about me, little lady, so fuck off with that. You're not giving me any incentive to not report you right about now- what did you call yourself? Priya? Pretty name for a vicious little rat," Esredes remarked. "If you've eyes, this city doesn' do handouts." Esredes paused, her reply passing him over. Priya... why did the woman's name sound faintly familiar? Enough to bug him even through his tendency to forget names? It had to mean something, be from somewhere, but he didn't know a lot of people from Ul'dah... But someone he had interacted with a lot recently did, and... Esredes' eyes widened. Yes, it had been Elouan who mentioned that name to him during their most recent therapy session. The name of an ex of his who had beaten him for not making her enough money. Just a common pickpocket. Now she was also the woman who hurt his sunflower. "...Say, you must do this a lot, hm? Trying to get your way into money by any scummy means possible? Do you remember Elouan?" Priya froze at Elouan's name, but soon shifted into a smile that did not ease Esredes in the slightest. "Elouan? Dumber than a rock? What, isn't he dead?" "My gods," Esredes said. So it was true. This was the same woman and not a coincidence. The black heart in his chest pulsed hard, and dark, inky matter quickly spread through his insides. He moved his sword hand up and hit her on the side of the head with its handle. "I thought you were a simple thief, but no, you truly are a disgusting little parasite under there, aren't you? Shut the fuck up about handouts, I know what this city is, but you don't deserve them even if they existed. I show no sympathy towards an exploitative and manipulative abusive little monster like you. Oh, today is not going to be your day, little monster lady." He never did change his other hand back down- in its full display of rough and leathery skin she couldn't see, he wrapped it around her throat and pressed lightly. "Have you any idea how much you have to answer for?" Priya let out a soft noise and struggled much more aggressively now, clawing at the leathery hand with her own. "Hh--Answer? I'm answering to nothing. Call me what you want, I don't care. If you're calling me a monster, what're you?" With no eyes to find, she couldn't make eye contact, but she still shot quite the devilish look. "So he isn't dead, is he? Such a shame; I thought the 'yotes outside of Ul'Dah got him! It wasn't like he was worth much with the bets..." The inky matter only kept spreading. "He's worth far more than your pathetic, greedy little ass will ever be. But you wouldn't know anything about the worth of people because all they are to you is an ends for money, hmm?" He drew a line of blood across her throat. "I should fucking kill you. No one would be around to even notice your corpse or look for you, would they, hmm?" The woman laughed, even despite the pain. "You should? What's stopping--? No, who's stopping you? Elouan? That dumbass? Have you ever seen him come back from a loss down there? Do you know what it's like to not have any gil? Anything?" She spat at him and continued trying to fight, but his grip remained iron. "Shut the fuck up." Esredes ran his blade lightly across her forehead. She moved her hands to the ground and tried propelling herself up, but she couldn't even upset his balance. "To answer your question? Yes, I do. That's no fucking excuse to beat a man up who is willing to mutilate himself and risk his life for a woman who doesn't even consider him above maggots. He loved you because he didn't know better, didn't want to accept the evils of people, and you felt nothing." Her body tensed up and her eyes became even more hostile. "You don't have anything, no, a heart or any redeeming qualities included. You're a street rat who deserves to writhe in filth, because no part of you deserves even a single piece of gil! And to answer your other question?" He decided now was time to flicker back into existence before her eyes, his pupils compressed to slivers and sharp teeth grinning as he leaned in close to her face. "Well, if no one will find the body, I suppose nothing at all is stopping me, hm?" "He wasn't worth it. You're all talk and you still hesitate," she snickered at him. "You're still hesitating because of him, aren't you? Because you're just as weak. He wasn't fit to live long, y'know. Probably still isn't, too." "Oh, I'm not hesitating because I'm weak," Esredes smiled and pressed back hard against her struggle attempt with his sword and body, leaning even further in. "I'm hesitating because you're not getting off that easy after all you've done." He pressed harder on her throat and dug his thumb claw into it harder. "We're only getting started here. No one has made you answer for what you've done to him, and I am so glad we could meet for the occasion, unexpected as it is. Tell me, do you think you look good in red?" There was barely the shape of a creature below him by this point, just red. He ran his claws down her face, he ran his blade down both of her arms, he slapped her, all while taunting her about what a pathetic creature she was. "Get OFF," she soon shouted. "Oh, I'm sorry, you want me off?" His eyes widened for her. "Did you listen when Elouan asked you that, hmm?! Did you stop hitting him for things that were your fucking fault?!" She bit her lip and clenched her fists, shaking. "My fault? Who was the one that lost bets? Who was the one that just had to stop because it was 'too much'? Me? No; it was him!" There was venom in her words, and a lot of it. "One hit wasn't enough for him and you know that, don't you? You have to keep drilling it into his fuckin' head. He couldn't even find his way to the aetheryte even if he was fifteen fulms from the thing!" Esredes almost couldn't believe the things coming out of this rodent's mouth. "You're fucking disgusting. And wrong, on top of that." He hit her with his sword handle again. "No, your problem is that you're an impatient, selfish little aggressive piece of shit. If you actually had an ounce of patience and kindness that wasn't faked to all hell, you'd know the man can listen and learn quite fine if you explain it to him well enough. But you're not capable of that because you're not smart enough for such things and you don't actually bother to learn a thing about how people actually work. Maybe if you had the consideration outside of yourself for it, you wouldn't be stuck here pickpocketing people like a street rat, hm? People don't bend over for vicious worthless scheming selfish lowlives like yourself. You will never get anywhere in life. You cry so fucking much about how you have nothing, but in all your years of exploiting and robbing people, you still have absolutely nothing. I don't think you have anyone to blame but yourself at that point. You will die filthy, worthless, and alone, and no one is going to miss the dirt on the side of the street. Now, how many hits will it take for you to get it into your head, hm?" He punched her once. Twice. Three times. Four times. The last punch managed to make her wheeze, and she shut her eyes. "When is ever enough for you?!" "...enough," she said at last. "Enough!" His fist was raised for another blow, but he grinned at hearing the word out of her. "Ah. She did it. She is capable of having enough." He laughed for a solid few seconds. "For the first time in your life, something is enough. How does it feel, hm?" She wrinkled her nose, and tried to muster one last kick, but couldn't even. She said nothing, reaching up to try and pull his hand off her with trembling hands. Esredes took her hand and held it up by the wrist, staring at it. "Look at it. So weak, so small, so pathetic. If you'd held on to someone like Elouan and actually loved him, he'd protect you from something like this, you know. As is, you're not strong enough to protect or help yourself alone. And you never will be. You're a cold, vulnerable little lady in a harsh world, and your only response is to make it so your own existence has no justification for itself."

He wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done yet. He kept on going, tearing into her with more wounds. He even took his little pair of scissors he used to cut his emergency supply of gauze and cut away at her hair. She kept helplessly trying to fight back, kept trying to scream at him to stop or go away. "I'm not going anywhere yet, little lady." He eventually said, grinning as he ran a clawed finger down her face. It was gentle enough not to draw blood, and she shivered under it. "Because I am your nightmare, I am the harbinger that comes for naughty little ladies who need to be a taught a lesson about the cruelty of their own heart." He then slapped her again, and continued cutting her hair. "You want to be a cruel and heartless beast to people who don't deserve it? Well, tell me, is it worth it? Is it worth it to sit here trapped in a reflection of your own cruelty and be content to bleed out in the darkness?" "Why should I talk about worth with you?" The venom and bite of her words had gone; she no longer had the energy for it, it seemed. It wasn’t long before she even started producing tears in her eyes. "Aww," Esredes said in a low, mocking voice. "Does the beast want to cry now? Cry like you made Elouan do countless times? It didn't mean a damn thing to you. Your tears are nothing to me." “I don’t care,” she said in a low and rough voice. "Don't care about you 'n what you say." "Then why are you crying?" "I'm not crying." Tears were treading down her cheeks. "Lady, look at your own goddamn face. You can't even hold it in. Is this too much for the poor little snake to handle, hmm? You're breaking this easily? And to think, Elouan survived multiple beatings from you, and you can't even handle this. Who's supposed to be the weak one again?" "Just shut up!" She croaked in a broken voice. "Shut up! This is pointless! Leave me alone. You've got what you wanted. You've gotten more than what you wanted already," even when she shut her eyes, the tears did not stop. "This is not enough." Venom dripped into his voice. "This is nothing to what you did to him. You can wish for it to stop all you want, but that never helped him, and it's not going to help you, either. Cry all you want, it only makes this all the sweeter. You get everything that you deserve." "He's just another pet of the sands, don't you see?“ The woman said through her shaky voice. "I thought I'd be better with more than what the trade offered. I couldn't start off without--without that." "And? And? That gives you free reign to crush his heart and body for not doing every little thing perfectly for you? When this man was willing to give you all of his love and torment himself far too much for you? You know, pickpocketing a man with a voice like mine? Fair enough, I know what city I walked into. But that? That as your excuse to be cruel in pursuit of money? No. No. Here, little lady. Answer me one little thing. Do you do all of this alone, in the true sense? Do you ever have a person to your name who isn't a tool you discard?" She finally opened her eyes again, staring at her hair on the ground. "Alone? Why'd I do it with anyone else? We're all just tools for anyone else to use--you either climb the ladder or get stuck in the lion's den. He was--he was too fuckin' much! His whining, his talking, his forgetfulness. All I wanted was gil for myself 'n business. Not the thing behind it." It wasn’t every day Esredes held true evil in his hands, trapped in his talons like a snake to an eagle. But hearing her twisted explanation only further caused his heart to rage in hatred. "Good. Fucking. Lord." He said. "People like you are the kind I despise the most. Your entire philosophy is so fucking stupid at its core, and all of you claim it's the most intelligent thing ever. I'll tell you a little story. I too have had absolutely nothing at multiple points in my life." On he went snipping her hair as he talked. "Do you know how you get away from having absolutely nothing? Yes, you have to have sharp skills of self reliance and the ability to climb out yourself, but you can only get so far on your own. You need, and I mean truly need, other people in order to truly build yourself up past a certain point. This is why types like you either never make it or end up dead eventually when someone else brings you down. You only make your own life harder by approaching people so selfishly without anything to add to it. People will see right through you, they'll tear you apart without sympathy or mercy, because you don't offer anything to last with people beyond the short term. If you don't blow everything in the short term with other people, and they aren't people like you, you get rewarded for being good to them. People are more willing to help you out of bad situations without you needing to do a thing because they remember when you were there for them, therefore becoming much more viable and sustainable than a one time deal you blow and suffer the consequences. You really think the world is going to bend to your greedy little will because you want money? No. It won't. It doesn't fucking care, and you know this. Lady, I don't know why I have to be the one telling you this with how smart you think you are, but here's a simple lesson on how people work. People talk. People complain. People forget things. People are not perfect little devices for you to drain gil out of, they are incomplete and flawed things trying their best. And people aren't very useful if you can't follow the basic law of economics and make a fair trade. You'd think growing up here, you'd understand this. Now, my point is, I was alone with nothing. And now? I have enough that you don't want to know the number of people who fear me, little lady. I didn't get this way by draining gil out of people like a vampire. I had to give something of myself, I had to sacrifice, I had to bleed for other people first, but people don't forget what you do for them, or to them. Each person you meet is a powerful weapon in their own right, a valuable resource beyond just money they make. And only a fool would discard such power. You're just a weak, stupid little thief who will never make it because you don't even understand what it takes to get out of your situation. You'll forever be in the den because you fall off the ladder every single time. There is a place to be vicious, there is a place to be kind. But you wouldn't know the difference if it held you down and punched you repeatedly in the face. I truly hope you never make it in life. The world doesn't need more people like you. Your kind can only drain the world of its resources and make it a worse place, all while declaring that the world is the evil one. Well have you ever fucking thought of being something that isn't so deserving of the world's evils? Because here you are now, bleeding out and crying, while Elouan is somewhere safe, having escaped, and is much happier because he's with people who appreciate his kindness for what it is. You have nothing for others to see. No one will ever lift you up off of here, because you'll never, ever deserve it." The woman laid there and absorbed his verbal blows, still too weak to fight back in any way. Tears still streamed down her face. "So what if I don't deserve it? I don't care. I don't care, I don't want to care, I just--" "You just what, lady? What is it? What is it you want to scream out right about now?" Priya gritted her teeth and out came a strangled cry. "--I don't want to be here. I don't want people around me or in m'life. I don't want anyone close to me! I don't want to be hurt like I've hurt them. I just want to be. Be dead? Fuckin' fine, do it already!“ "Is that seriously all you want from life? To be alone with money?" "What else? Money can't hurt me like they could." "Wow." Esredes said. "Just wow. You know, popular sayings exist for a reason. People who are alone with money are some of the people most likely to drink themselves or take drugs into dying. I grew up in Ishgard. Everyone in the noble circle has money and guess what? We're all still fucking miserable and want to die, broken empty shells of people. People still treat you like trash and shit no matter how nice you look and how perfectly polite your tone is. You still die empty and unfulfilled and ultimately meaningless. ...But you know this in some capacity, don't you?" He leaned down close to her face again, and she shut her eyes. "Is it not just because you want this to stop that you keep trying to taunt me into ending you, hmm? Are you sick enough of festering in your own shallow existence that you want to just spare the world the burden of you?" “You already know the answer, don’t you? I’ve got nothin’ to my name or kin! Why keep me around if that’s all I have, aye?” "Exactly. There's no reason at all." He smiled. "If I gave you your dagger back, would you be able to do it, hmm?" Priya kept sniffling. She opened her eyes and they landed on her dagger, past the scraps of her hair. "It'd be the one good thing you ever do in your life." He continued on. "You'd finally give back to the world, as your corpse decays and the nutrients can be absorbed to go to things more deserving of them..." “Stop talking,” she mumbled yet again. But Esredes only grinned. "Just think about it. No more waking up in pursuit of your empty desires. No more pickpocketing and feeding on scraps. Just the sweet embrace of nothing washing over you, finally an end to all the suffering. You won't be weak anymore. You won't have to feed for more, and more, and more... you will finally have enough." “I said stop.” "You'll never make it. So why keep trying? You're not smart enough to make it, you're not clever enough. You don't have what it takes. All you'll ever do is prolong your own agony, stuck in the same cycle, over and over and over... is that really a worthwhile existence?" “Stop it! Stop talking! I’ve enough of this and, gods, just stop.” The woman managed to shout, but it so quickly became shaky, weak, and small once more. "You keep telling me to stop because you know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it." He took the final strands of her hair and positioned the scissors around them. "One moment, you're here, writhing in your own filth, and the next..." Snip. She hissed. "Release. Catharsis. Nothing." He held the hair out to her to look at. "See, you have a golden opportunity. No one cares about you. No one will notice if you die. You have no burdens tying you down to this earthy plane, you can release yourself like a balloon and fly. Wouldn't that be so wonderful, to see the sky...?" “I won’t see shite,” she retorted with certainty, stretching her arm to try and reach the dagger, only for Esredes to move it further away with a rock. "Alas," he said. "If you do it later, I won't stop you- but for right now, it's not time yet.” He threw the hair to scatter about the tunnel. “All this talk for not yet? Bullshite!” "You're not deserving of a quick death, dearest. No one with a heart as cold and empty as yours is." It would still be some time before he finally let her go. Tied up and unable to escape the tunnel with that pouch of opioids on her- a perfect trapped creature for the local authorities of Ul’dah to pick up. It was not enough. He couldn’t make it enough no matter how little he held back, and he knew it. Nothing would make up for what she did to his beloved Elouan. He would never completely understand the local parasites of the world that pretended to be human like her. Why were they all so content to live a destructive life focused only on themselves? Were they so wrapped up in themselves they couldn’t notice how boring they were, how little and shallow of an existence it was? They would go on, intimidating or charming those around them to feed their selfish empire- but at their core, they were weak nothings, and Esredes saw them for what they were. “Sorry, it was very crowded at the market today. I couldn’t get everything.” Esredes said to his parents later. “I’ll get it all in the morning before I leave. It should be much easier to navigate…” ——— @shieldbcund Priya, Elouan

#writing #in action #villain aesthetic #elouan #ffxivwrite2021 #screenshots

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