#watch me look back at this gifset sometime in the future and be like what in the world happened LOL

[ravensmadreads]

Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys

Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom

JAVIER PEÑA

Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.

Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)

That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)

BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.

JAVIER GUTIERREZ

Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.

JOEL MILLER

(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠

DIETER BRAVO

Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.

MAX PHILLIPS

Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p

MARCUS PIKE

Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me

MARCUS MORENO

Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~

DAVE YORK

Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.

FRANKIE MORALES

Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~

JACK DANIELS

BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:

Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"

PERO TOVAR

Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."

DIN DJARIN

Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.

*****

TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)

@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)

[gillianthecat]

i think i was indeed asking for advice so thank you for getting it despite my confusing way of asking! i believe i'm in a situation where i want to share my thoughts but 1. i can't seem to put them in order or make them make sense 2. english is not my first language and even though i can understand it and i usually use it online rather easily i struggle with translating the more analytical thoughts from my head to english, if that makes any sense. sometimes i get very overwhelmed too because of all the shows i'm watching (i'm really gonna have to put some of them on hold), not even commenting, just watching, so i can only imagine how overwhelmed i'll be if i decided to actually post about them

the thing you said about choosing one or two shows to talk about is pretty interesting and i think it is a good idea, i'll probably do that in the future if i can even choose the ones i wanna dissect publicly

tbh i have to think about if i really wanna do it because like i say i'm pretty happy just reading all your thoughts, so well put, and reblogging some pretty gifsets. it's just that sometimes i feel like there's so much in my head -too much- and i need to write it down or it'll explode, the thoughts pile up and it gets busy, am i making any sense?

the notes app is my best friend, not just for this but in life in general

thank you for listening to me and giving me such a thoughtful answer, you were never meant to be a lurker this is your element

you're welcome! thanks for writing back. I'm glad the advice was wanted.

I would say to your first point, tumblr is probably one of the safest places to let go of the need to make sense. people ramble inchoherently on here all the time. and you can always edit things later, or delete them later, and make them unrebloggable so they don't escape your control. so, no pressure to try, but if you did want to, this is pretty good place to experiment with it.

As to the second point, I am mono-lingual so I have no direct experience with it myself, but I know there are many people on here writing about BL in English as a second/third/etc language. Perhaps one of them will see this and chime in with any thoughts?

Mine are mostly an echo of the first point - this is not a place where you need to make perfect sense. And, although English dominates BL tumblr (at least from what I have seen from my English speaking corner), you can always choose to write in your first language, just to get the thoughts out of your head and out there. there may even be other speakers of it who are interested in reading your thoughts on BL. I have google translated posts in other languages before, I'm sure other people have as well.

And of course, reading and reblogging gifsets is always a wonderful use of tumblr.

But yes, there is something about writing it all down that clears up space, like releasing a pressure valve. So I can certainly see the appeal.

thank you 😊

edit: anon - look at the comments for some great advice from other people. (thanks you all!)

[pepsi-maxwell]

so i had to go back and check which gifset and.

HELP

which inspired me to write a prequel of sorts to the cmjf phone sex fic

cut for length, rated e for max playing a game of five on one, no other warnings

-

It’s not unusual for him to rewatch his matches sometimes. Part of it is appreciation for his own flawless physique, but part of it is to look at what hits he took, how best to avoid them, what he could have done differently or better in the future. And then, at the end, the beauty of pinning his opponent, knowing that he’s better than them.

It’s only after he gets Tony’s voicemail, begging and pleading for him to call him, to come back, that he revisits the Punk matches.

Not that he’s been avoiding them or anything.

But still. There’s going to be a unification of the titles, and it’s gonna be Moxley or it’s gonna be Punk, and he has a plan to handle either outcome, sure, but... best to know thy enemy.

Like he’s not intimately aware of his enemy’s entire catalogue of work.

So. Chicago. Their first one-on-one encounter.

The tape garotte is just as inspired and hilarious as it had been the first time, and he’s filled with a renewed dislike for Bryce Remsburg for insisting his first victory be disallowed.

And the fact that Punk had pulled out the Pepsi Plunge, just for him... it makes him feel some kind of special. That Punk was willing to fucking destroy himself for Max, in a way that he hadn’t winning the title off of Hangman, like Max was more deserving of that...

He ignores the fact that he’s rocking a semi. Carries on watching the match, even though he’s a little distracted thinking about what he’s going to get off to after he finishes it

Speaking of finishes.

When he gets to the second pin, the Chicago smarks losing their fucking feeble minds with rage, he notices something he hadn’t the first time around.

Which is that back then, as he’d rolled his weight on top of Punk’s torso, held him down for the one-two-three, Punk had been rocking a semi. Maybe more. Barely catches a glimpse as the camera pans over his crotch, but...

He rewinds it back ten seconds. Plays it again, to make sure. Watches the camera pan over them both, his weight half-over Punk, and he tries to ignore how clingy he looks in favour of the noticeable bulge in those camo print trunks, and...

Well. All thoughts of porn are out of the window.

He knows it happens. It’s happened to him, it’s happened to others, it’s a natural physical response to adrenaline and close proximity, skin touching skin, but...

The fact that it had happened to Punk.

The fact that it had happened to Punk, when he’d just taken his first L in eight fucking years, from the best of the best...

Would it be egotistical of him to get off on that? Probably, but the question implies that he gives a shit. Punk lost to him and got hard over it, and if anyone thinks he’s just going to let that one go unappreciated—

He pushes the shorts he’s wearing down to his thighs. Watches his own cock bounce up against his stomach, and in a moment of inspiration, cues up another video featuring Punk. Not one from a match. Spits on his palm as Punk, covered in his own blood, pushes aside the medical staff attending to him.

Wraps a hand around himself, grip almost punishingly tight. Strokes himself as Punk claps his hands, looking straight into the camera, addressing him directly, telling him that he deserves to be walked like a dog, beaten until his own mother wouldn’t recognise him, and fuck him, he doesn’t know shit about what Max deserves, but the fact is, he does deserve Punk’s undivided attention, and given his reaction here to what Max had done to him, job well fucking done—

Punk winks at the camera. Says his favourite little catchphrase like if he says it enough it might be true again, and Max comes with a choked cry, coating his hand and his chest. Lays on his couch, half stunned by his own orgasm, chest heaving.

Thinks a little bit more on that little hint he’d seen of the Punk of old, for long enough that he feels his cock twitch again. Strokes his fingers along the shaft again, and he’s still painfully sensitive, but… why not? He’s just got a pay increase, Tony’s given him assurances of a title shot, which means there’s yet another loss forecast on Punk’s horizon.

He’s going to have a fun night.

[effervescentdragon]

something about Arthur and glasses 🤓 with whoever you want, I have no moral compunctions here 😏

hello anon! did you see that gifset of arthur with the glasses and prompt me, because if you did, thats the most valid thing ever 😘 you get arthur x oscar future!fic, because that prema video is living in my mind rent free ever since i watched it and silly season gives me hopes and delusions :) hope you like it!

Arthur is nervous as fuck.

"Calm down, petit, you'll do wonderfully," Charles says for the thousandth time, then leaves to talk to his race engineer. Enzo takes one look at him, rolls his eyes, and sends him outside behind the garage to calm himself down. He thrusts the headphones at Arthur and pushes him towards the back, and Arthur flees.

It's not that Arthur doesn't believe Charles and Enzo when they tell him he'll do well. He has racing in his blood, and Ferrari wouldn't have signed him if they didn't think he could deliver, no matter that his brother is their current champion. It's just that, well, fuck.

It's Ferrari. He can't be chill about driving for Ferrari, for fuck's sake. Only a psycopath could, and Arthur is pretty sure that while he may have some pathology about his relationship with his car (all the drivers do, really, just look at his brother touching the car and that should be clear), he isn't a psychopath. It's just. Ferrari.

He plays the psytrance playlist to calm himself down. It works, it's always worked for him, and the adrenaline pumps in his veins but his mind is starting to calm down, when he notices a shadow in his periphery.

A hand falls on his knee. He can barely feel it through the fireproofs, but when he opens his eyes and sees who is touching him, his skin seems to burn. Brains are funny like that.

"Well, if it isn't Mister Ferrari himself," Oscar says with that smirk of his, and Arthur rolls his eyes automatically.

"That is Charles, actually," he quips back, "he is the champion after all."

Oscar inclines his head. "Fair," he says. Arthur has always liked his accent. "What are you doing here?" He doesn't make any move to remove his hand from Arthur's knee.

"Calming myself down before the race." Arthur shrugs. There is no point lying to Oscar. They know each other too well, ever since their Prema days, and Oscar may even remember how Arthur was before every first race of the season. Only the stakes are now higher for both of them, except Oscar already has some experience, amd Arthur really doesn't.

Oscar hums, tilting his head and not looking away from Arthur. "Why are you nervous?"

Arthur scoffs incredulously.

"Mate," he says. "I'm supposed to drive for fucking Ferrari."

"And I'm driving for fucking McLaren," Oscar replies, then frowns. "It's - yeah, no, you're right, actually. It's fucking scary and - and daunting."

"You're absolutely no help at all," Arthur deadpans, but he can feel himself starting to smile. "Yeah, but you're smiling," Oscar calls him out. Arthur would punch him, but that would mean dislodging Oscar's hand from his knee, and Oscar moving away, and Arthur doesn't really want that.

Arthur doesn't think a lot, or that's what Lorenzo tells him at least. He acts first, letting his brain catch up, if it ever does. It makes him an extremely good racing driver. It also makes him a bit of a disaster of a human being.

The one thing he never let himself act on was whatever was going on between him and Oscar back in 2021. He's not sure if that was the very smart, or the very stupid thing to do.

(Lorenzo would say it was smart, but Lorenzo was a realist and a bore without any sense foe romance, in Arthur's opinion.

Charles would say it was stupid, but Charles was an incurable romantic and in love with his best friend for decades.

Arthur himself just thinks it is what it is, and sometimes, when he lets himself think about it, he regrets.)

"You'll do good," Oscar says suddenly. Arthur raises his head from where he's hunching over to look into his eyes a bit better. "I'll deny this if you ever repeat it, but you were always the best of us."

He presses on Arthur's knee, and Arthur's breathing stutters. There is something in Oscar's eyes that makes him think he's thinking about 2021 too, and he swallows heavily. Oscar's hand doesn't let off.

You're a Ferrari driver now, he thinks. You drive for the best team on the grid.

Cowards don't drive for Ferrari.

"If I score," Arthur says, and Oscar's eyes flash. "If I get points in this race, you owe me dinner."

Oscar just looks at him.

"A dinner," Arthur says, and pushes on, because he always did. "Or a kiss."

Oscar's eyes widen. He tightens his hold on Arthur's knee, and licks his lips.

"Or a good luck kiss now," Arthur says with a smirk, because he has never not known how to push. "Whichever you prefer."

He keeps eye contact with Oscar, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"And if I score?" Oscar asks, and his eyes flit to Arthur's lips for a bare second. It's quite enough for Arthur to feel a profound sense of relief, because he did not read this wrong. "What do I get?"

"What do you want?"

Oscar seems to be battling with himself about something, but then he gets a determined look on his face, the look Arthur thinks got him his first GP win in his rookie F1 season, and steps closer, in between Arthur's legs. His other hand grasps Arthur's other knee, and he's suddenly so fucking glad for the space in his fireproofs.

"A dinner," Oscar says in a low voice. His eyes fall back on Arthur's lips. "And a kiss."

"Greedy," Arthur breathes out, and he knows they shouldn't be doing this here and now, with only some hour before the race and more or less in a very exposed space. "But so am I."

"Oh, I know." Oscar laughs, and Arthur laighs with him, because he does know, doesn't he? They've known each other for so long, but it was never the right time. "I'm counting on it."

Something clangs behind them then, and Italian cursing fills the air. Oscar doesn't jump away; he moves slowly, dragging his hands until they aren't touching Arthur anymore. Arthur feels their absence keenly.

"Good luck, Arthur," he says, a beaming smile on his face.

"You too," Arthur replies. "See you after the race."

"You will," Oscar nods, and turns, and Arthur definitely checks out his ass in those white and orange fireproofs as he's walking away.

Lorenzo appears not a minute later.

"You calm?" He asks, and Arthur is, and isn't. He laughs, and Enzo stares at him.

"I'm good." He jumps down. "Let's do this."

*

"Charles Leclerc wins the first race of the season, a good start to defending his title! Gasly in second, Schumacher in third, and that rounds out our podium, with the second Mercedes of George Russel just missing out in P4! What a wonderful Sillver Arrow battle, we haven't seen those since the days of Rosberg and Hamilton!"

"Yes, Martin, indeed, what a race! And so clean, a true masterclass in sporting conduct, and such smart driving from our young Arthur Leclerc, who scores his first points for Ferrari and in F1 in his maiden race! P7, I believe?"

"Indeed, Crofty! Both McLarens follow the two Mercedes, with Piastri in P5 and Norris in P6, Arthur Leclerc for Ferrari in P7, Tsunoda in P8, Zhou P9, and Gasly's teammate Ocon coming home in tenth to score last points available in Bahrain!"

"A joy of a race to watch, Martin, now let's go back to Ted..."

*

so where do u want that dinner? :)

oh idk arthur. your room or mine?

urs. mine has enzo

good choice.

544.

i know ;)

i'll be there after i shower

or you come here before.

no sense wasting water ;)

i AM very environmentally conscius

you spelled conscious wrong

ur aussie, you dont know this

just come here :)

coming :)

bring your glasses btw.

i know your eyes hurt if you sleep w contacts

<3

will do

[wildcard-rumi]

Thoughts on Sonic Prime, the Netflix series? ^^

I binged it yesterday bc I got curious from seeing from the gifsets you were reblogging (oh, messed up alternate timelines my beloveds) and I really enjoyed it! :D

So, any notes? Anything in particular that caught your eye or that you'd like to see in future episodes? 👀

Well, I mean, I haven't really thought about it too much since we've only got eight episodes so far so I'm gonna wait till we've got the whole thing before I judge the series. But from what we've got so far:

I really like it.

It's not my favourite Sonic series, that's still Sonic X but nostalgia and the fact that it has a lot more episodes probably plays a big part in that so I'm not gonna hold that against Prime.

This personality for Sonic is a little bit different than what I'm used to but I still think it works really well and he manages to carry the show with his little comments.

I adore the alternate universe versions of the characters and how they take one aspect of them and change it, i.e Tails is a genius but if he never met Sonic and learned to have confidence in what makes him different so he becomes Nine, Amy is extremely kind and empathetic but if she couldn't talk about her feelings they go out of control and she becomes Thorn, etc. It's a simple concept but it works so well and they do it in a way where you don't need prior knowledge about the characters but if you do, you get some more enjoyment from it.

The worlds are all really interesting, my personal favourite so far is the pirate one, probably because there's no "We can't trust you!" Kinda thing going on like the other worlds 'cause that kinda conflict just irritates me after a while. And also just... Pirates are fun and the voices they have in that world are fun.

Speaking of voices, the voice acting is really, really good. I was a little nervous when they said the cast was gonna be different from the games because like... The voices have changed so many times... And it always starts arguments... But I really like this cast, especially Devan Mack as Sonic. Like he's not copying anyone, it's his own version of the character and he's got the cockiness, the cheekiness, the awkwardness, everything works perfectly. Not to mention, he nails the more serious scenes too like when Nine shows him the Grim and he has to turn him down. Apparently a lot of the cast were in MLP but I never saw that series, it wasn't on any channels I had growing up so I can't really comment, but they sound great in this series!

Another thing I love is the animation. I love the sheer amount of squash and stretch they use, it really gives Sonic's speed this zippy quality and just gives off this really fun vibe. And the fight coordination is really good, like that fight between Sonic and Shadow in Green Hill was great to watch. Not to mention, the effects they use for the prism powers look great. And my absolute favourite thing: They animate Sonic's ears to convey emotion. Instantly won me over with that.

Although, the thing I'm most looking forward to seeing more of has to be Shadow. Ngl it's been quite a while since he was written this well. I like the IDW comic version but even that has its problems sometimes. But I like how he is working towards what's best, he just sucks at communication and butts heads with Sonic because they both think they're doing the right thing. And while I don't like the characterisation of Shadow fighting Sonic on sight every time he sees him that most modern Sonic stuff does, I will say in Prime it's completely justified. I still find it funny that the first thing Shadow does when Sonic joins him in the void is punch him in the face.

Honestly, the only thing I'm not enjoying about Prime at the moment is the Chaos Council. I just don't find them funny or threatening. It's literally "oh here's five weird versions of Eggman with their own gimmick" like... Cool. Can we have just plain Eggman back please? The only thing I like about the Chaos Council is Rusty Rose. They might get better in the new episodes but I'm not holding my breath. They just really don't appeal to me.

But honestly on the whole, I'm really enjoying the series so far and I love all the small details they put into it like the aforementioned ear movements, how Rouge sleeps upside down, how Tails' tails are a lot thicker than Nine's tails because he actually uses them, the fact that the story ties back to the original Sonic game's themes of anti-industrialism in different ways, etc. Not to mention the little easter eggs like Tails' passcode being 1992, the year he debuted in Sonic 2, and Big's New Yoke identification code being 1998, the year he debuted in Sonic Adventure. I hope we get to see more things like that because they put a smile on my face.

Honestly, I hope the new episodes put more focus on Shadow now that he's finally got Sonic to come pick him up but I think he really has a lot of potential. And I'm really, really curious to see what Rouge's world is gonna be like. A lot of people are saying they'd like to see a Western style place which I agree would be pretty cool. And I hope more of the alternate universe characters interact with each other like how Rusty Rose and Black Rose did because that could lead to some interesting dialogue.

I didn't mean for this to become an entire goddamn essay but apparently I had some Opinions. Also none of my mutuals are really into Sonic so I don't get to talk it often so I guess it all just kinda exploded here.

[psychewritesbs]

It's the JJK writing ask one here! I really like reading your thoughts on the matter and truly give me a lot of great insight. I did want a little more of hakari during his fight when i saw your hakari panel insert (hehe i love him) but he's very entertaining. I honestly believe I will always adore the story despite my own personal issues with it because although I want to see its ending, I have enjoyed reading it when I started it. I really like what you said about failing and I agreed immensely with that. This is more personal, but I do believe that failure leads to growth and I'm curious to see what he can do in the future. I can try and imagine his reasoning for going the way he did with cg but spending that time doing that just seems kind of pointless when the manga is still ongoing. I do try to balance my negatives with my positives and take the story as it is. After all, we won't be certain if the cg was more than he could chew or not until the story is probably done. But, yes, wanting the destination has been a thought I like to selfishly indulge in and I'm terribly impatient I must say haha! Despite my own personal frustrations, I can't say I like having too many expectations, especially regarding jjk. Whether it's intentional or not, gege kind of keeps me on my toes and it can be pretty fun after a while whether I end up liking it or not Authors can be really spontaneous when it comes to their stories and we don't really know what changes they undergo especially as people or in a mangakas case how harsh they take the industry in general and how it affects their choices when it comes to their story. My optimism is not always up to 100%, but i do believe that while criticism is natural and i encourage it to have really rich dicsussions, a constant state of negativity for any series isn't all that beneficial. Anyway, I still love thinking about JJK and thank you for reading all my word vomits, I really appreciate it and you. If it's no trouble I might have another ask in regards to hana/yuji/megumi.

HOLA HOLA!

Yessssss for insights! 

Hiding the word vomit under the cut :)

So glad we both vomit words like there’s no tomorrow 🤮dfkjsd ;bgs.

“This is more personal, but I do believe that failure leads to growth”

Honestly? This is one of the things I struggle with the most. Sometimes I have such a hard time just allowing myself to not be perfect and giving myself the grace of being a flawed human.

GASP WHAT IF I FAIL AND OTHERS CAN SEE HOW HUMAN I AM?!

The irony is that I am such a romantic about fictional characters that are depicted as “flawed humans”.

Also. Don't let me fool you tho. I'm totally such a shit talker 😂.

I recently finished a Gundam Seed re-watch that left me perplexed. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that the writers were both REALLY GOOD because they wrote the kind of melodramatic masterpiece that only a melodramatic teenage girl would love, but also REALLY BAD because they wrote the kind of melodramatic masterpiece that only a melodramatic teenage girl would love.

But to go back to my point of “what is good enough for you?” and finding reasons to love a story... while I won’t be watching Gundam Seed any time soon (or quite possibly ever again unless it’s in fast forward or in gifsets), the re-watch was totally worth it because the show has one of my OG anime crushes and OG OTPs. 

In my opinion, both Athrun as an individual, Cagalli as an individual, and the pairing itself actually happen to have some of the best writing in the series--I seriously think these two carry the show on their shoulders in terms of writing ability.

Shameless Athrun and Cagalli plug because I have been looking for an excuse to use this gif because it’s one of my favorite scenes with them. Also, did I mention they make me fangirl like a melodramatic teenage girl?

Point being, I’ve been vocal about the writing being bad in Gundam Seed and I think all 15 people still engaging in the fandom have probably blocked me by now bahaha.

So... yeah: 

“I do believe that while criticism is natural and i encourage it to have really rich dicsussions, a constant state of negativity for any series isn't all that beneficial”

I totally agree with you and love how you put it :)

“Despite my own personal frustrations, I can't say I like having too many expectations, especially regarding jjk. Whether it's intentional or not, gege kind of keeps me on my toes and it can be pretty fun after a while whether I end up liking it or not”

Yessssss. This is what I’ve always loved about JJK.

Unpredictable story-telling my beloved. 

I think another thing that’s helped me stay with JJK a lot is that I can self-insert my psyche into Megumi’s character. I simply adore Megumi.

Have I mentioned that before? Yes? Ok. No worries I’ll probably say it again a bunch more times lol.

I simply adore Megumi and think he’s stupidly beautifully written.

“If it's no trouble I might have another ask in regards to hana/yuji/megumi.”

Awesome, I’ll do my best to answer if if you do get around to sending it!

Good talk good talk!

Thanks again for vomiting words with me, Recurring Anon :)

[javier-pena]

triumvirate

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Katie

Word Count: 13.7k (I know, I know ...)

Rating: Explicit (and I mean explicit, this is the most explicit thing I’ve ever written)

Summary: You and Javi have been talking about inviting someone into your bed, just to see what it would be like. But you had no idea he already has someone in mind.

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | some language | threesome (f/f/m) | thigh riding | fingering | oral (m and f receiving) | light choking | light dirty talk | unprotected (p in v) sex | praise kink if you squint | size kink if you squint | orgasm delay/denial | sub!Javi until he’s definitely not | multiple orgasms | creampie

Notes: This started as a brief conversation I had with Dani @javierpcna while making a gifset actually, and it turned into this huge fic involving a character that doesn’t even speak a single line of dialogue (yes, this is Katie, the woman from the elevator in s3e1, the one who looks at Javi ... respectfully). I actually don’t remember the last time I had this much fun writing anything, so I guess I will be writing more Javi fics in future ... also, as always, huge thanks to Dani for putting up with my crazy ideas for a week, for encouraging me, for sacrificing a Sunday evening to read this, and for kindling the flames that brought this on in the first place! Also I believe Javi doesn’t share but he can be a bit ooc - as a treat ...

***

Javi doesn’t like to talk about his work. He doesn’t like to “bring it home” with him, even though the word “home” is all relative to him. He keeps quiet about it when you’re at his flat, that’s sacred ground to him, but your flat is fine. So when he’s at your place, he sometimes talks about his colleagues, the paperwork he needs to finish, how his boss got on his nerves today. You know there is much he could tell you, a lot he doesn’t share on purpose, and some things he never mentions because he’s not proud of them.

At first, you are worried because he doesn’t let you in. You aren’t used to having someone in your life who keeps so much hidden from you, especially someone you slowly, over time, start to share everything with, from a cup of coffee over breakfast, over a cigarette during a hasty lunch break, to sighs and moans, joined hands and heartbeats under the cover of the night. Especially someone you slowly but surely find yourself falling in love with, someone you want to share your life with, but also someone who doesn’t seem to feel the same way, who keeps a part of himself hidden behind tailored suits and starched shirts. It makes you nervous and wary when he never answers your questions, it hurts you when he changes the subject, sometimes quite cruelly, but over time you begin to see this arrangement as something enjoyable.

In all your previous relationships, you’d mostly talked about work, discussed your day, asked boring questions to get boring answers from your partner. Maybe that is the reason why they never lasted – you were so preoccupied with involving each other in your professional lives that you never focused on the personal aspect of your relationships. But with Javi you’re forced to talk about something else, about anything else, books, movies, music, travels, that little dog you saw on the street today, how your mother is doing, the sock that has gotten lost in the dryer. And you love this about him, love how you’d gotten to know an entirely different version of him than most people know. Granted, he doesn’t watch a lot of movies and he doesn’t listen to a lot of music, he hardly ever has time to read, but he’s seen the world, he tells you stories you don’t bore of hearing repeatedly, while your fingers lay entwined on his broad chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into your body, his breath tickling your hand, while he talks, and you listen. Sometimes, on the rare occasion he cooks for you, he tells you about his childhood, about how his mother taught him to kill a chicken (“If you can eat it, you can kill it”), about how is father gave him his first beer to drink when he was eight (“It’ll make a man out of you”), about how his grandmother showed him which spices to use for what dish (“Never mix garlic and lemon juice, it’ll turn the garlic green”). It’s moments like these where you feel he trusts you. You don’t need him to give you a detailed rundown of his day, to tell you how badly his morning coffee tasted, how boring his meeting was, how much his colleagues annoyed him. Getting to know this personal side of him, the one you know he doesn’t usually share, that’s enough for you.

You trust him, and he trusts you.

His withdrawnness when it comes to his work is the reason you’re completely caught by surprise when you’re over at his place one cloudy Saturday afternoon for a late lunch and he mentions work. You’re the one cooking this time, a stew your grandmother taught you to make, and while you wait for it to finish simmering, you sit at his small kitchen table, lost in idle conversation. And no matter how idle those conversations get, talking to Javi is never boring, and that is one of the things you love about him. But when he does mention work – and nothing prompts it, no probing questions on your part about a torn shirt you find lying discarded on his couch, no need to share something with you out of weariness and frustration on his part – you are immediately snapping to attention. It’s infuriating how he does it, casually, while he fills a glass with tap water for you.

“There’s this girl at work,” he says, and your ears prick up at the word work, immediately on guard. He turns off the water but doesn’t turn to look at you when he continues. “I think … I think you would … like her.”

It’s so uncharacteristic of him to be this careful, almost flustered – is that a flush you see creeping up his neck? He’s usually very assured, he usually has no trouble making eye contact, he usually says what he needs to say with as little or as many words as he sees fit. So when he stammers and blushes like this, you can’t help but smile. You can guess, of course, what this is about. You’ve mentioned a few times that you miss your friends back home, that you sometimes feel lonely and wish you had more people to talk to. And he remembered, he listened to you and he remembered, which makes a warmth spread from your chest to your limbs, and the corners of your eyes crinkle with a soft smile.

“Is that so?” you ask teasingly.

He turns around and takes the two steps to close the distance between the sink and the table. You take the glass from him as soon as he stands in front of you.

“She’s … nice,” he tries to elaborate. He sits down next to you and takes your hand into his, his skin warm to the touch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he watches moisture gather on your glass. It is a hot day, and the windows of his small kitchen are open, allowing for the sounds of the city to drift in, to swirl around the two of you, to give you some background noise to the comfortable silence that sometimes settles between you. “She’s funny,” he continues finally. “Ambitious, too. Junior agent. You have a lot in common.”

That sounds more like the Javi you know; observant, good at reading people, good at making connections. He’s still not looking at you though; it feels like he’s asking you something big, something life-changing, not like he’s trying to help you find a friend.

“Yeah, she sounds nice,” you agree. You raise the glass with your free hand and take a sip of water. “I’d like to meet her.” And even if you shouldn’t get along, there is no harm done. But you feel like you will because Javi is very good at reading people and if he says that this woman is someone you would like to spend time with, you know you will.

“You would?” His head snaps up in surprise, and it makes you smile again. As if you could ever refuse him! And if he’d ask you to move to Antarctica with him, you wouldn’t hesitate. But you can understand his tentativeness because you haven’t technically told him that. Yes, Javi is easy to talk to, but not when it comes to feelings. Those conversations are reserved for the dead hours of the night, for when it feels like you two are the only people in the world, for when you both know you can open up to each other, be at your most vulnerable state without the other person taking advantage of it, of crushing it like a fallen leaf. And you haven’t had many of those conversations yet.

Still, your heart picks up speed at the thought of how he’s looking out for you, of how he met a woman at work and thought to himself that you maybe would like to be her friend, how he was nervous to bring it up because he thought he might have misread your needs. But if there is one thing Javi is brilliant at, the one thing no one else in your life has ever been able to do, it is reading your needs, interpreting them correctly, and then acting accordingly to them, doing everything he can to care for you and look out for you, sometimes even at the expense of his own needs. You wouldn’t be able to tell that about him by looking at him, by hearing how his acquaintances talk about him, but there is a soft side to this man, one you feel very protective of.

You nod with enthusiasm. “Sure, why not? If she’s as great as you say, then I don’t see why we wouldn’t be getting along.” You are very curious to meet this woman. He’s hardly given you any information about her, but still, she sparks your interest.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Good.” He also nods, but when he does it, there is an air of determination to it. It feels like you’ve just agreed to some big plan you don’t fully understand, not to having lunch with one of his colleagues. “Listen, there’s this work thing next Friday.” His voice gets lower with each word, so he pauses to clear his throat. “I think you should come along, meet everyone … officially. She’s also gonna be there, it’s a good opportunity …”

Now you can’t help but giggle. He squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. “You’re very eager to introduce me to her, aren’t you?” you tease, but there is no malice in your words. You’re actually flattered he’s talking about introducing you to his colleagues, about bridging that divide between private and professional.

Your fondness for him gets lost in translation, and your words fall on different ears than they are intended for. “I’ve been telling everyone at work a lot about you –”

You cut him off with a firm kiss that elicits a low growl from his chest. “Javi, I’m already convinced, okay? No need to lie to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hand brushing against his rough cheek. He has to understand that he doesn’t need to pretend with you, that he can be his true self around you.

He lifts your entwined hands from the tabletop and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. “I’m not lying.” You want to believe him, but there is a glint in his eyes when he looks up from your hand and locks his gaze to yours. It would be wise to be annoyed with him or tease him in turn, but you can’t help yourself. Every time those brown eyes land on you, you feel a pull towards him you cannot quite explain but also cannot ignore. You have to give in.

Still, you roll your eyes in a valiant attempt to keep up a semblance of dignity before pushing yourself off your chair and onto his lap. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck and you grip it and hold onto it as you carefully roll your hips under the pretense of finding a comfortable position. Both his hands immediately land on your sides and squeeze.

“Then let me give you something to tell them about,” you whisper, your lips right next to his ear, and nothing beats the feeling of pride rushing through you as he pushes his hips up, chasing a tiny bit of friction. You’re sure it’s basic instinct, something he can’t quite control, and you love nothing more than making him let go.

***

You thought you would be meeting Javi’s colleagues at a bar, but then you find yourself in front of a nice restaurant. It’s the only place in town that sells good burgers, or at least that’s what the man at your side tells you. You were planning on getting pleasantly drunk, not making conversation while trying to coordinate a knife and fork, but you think you’ll manage as long as you stick to your companion.  

But something about Javi feels off tonight. He nervously fixed his tie in your hallway mirror when he picked you up (usually he doesn’t care about the state of his tie’s knot), he didn’t talk to you much during the drive to the restaurant (usually he points out little details he notices about the city or takes this opportunity to compliment you), and now he keeps fiddling with the cuff of your blouse as he leads you up the stairs to the restaurant’s entrance.

You’re also nervous, mostly because you haven’t met any of the people you’re about to be introduced to, and you don’t know if you’ll have something in common with them or if you’ll spend your evening sitting alone in some dark corner nursing one fancy cocktail after the other. If there’s one thing you’re not good at, it’s going into a situation unprepared, and Javi did nothing to help you build up some expectations about what to expect from tonight. To be fair, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask about the colleagues you’re about to meet, you didn’t ask where you were going to meet them, and you didn’t ask about the woman he is planning on introducing to you. The reason for your silence? You didn’t want to annoy him, show him just how insecure you are.

But you feel oh so apprehensive about this evening. Your positions are reversed now – suddenly it is you who thinks it might not be such a good idea to mix personal and private. You have no answer as to why you feel like this. It is just a dull sensation in the pit of your stomach that makes your hands feel cold even though it’s a hot, humid evening. It makes you want to turn to the man at your side and ask him to go home. But you won’t. Because despite the dread you’re feeling you’re kind of excited at the prospect of meeting this new colleague he mentioned to you. There is an air of mystery around her that intrigues you because he hasn’t talked about her since that afternoon almost a week ago. And you appreciate the gesture of him biting the bullet and mixing the two sides of the coin that is Javier Peña so you can find a friend.

Once you make it inside, Javi leads you to a group of people who are already standing together in a cluster. The introductions are over way too fast, and you don’t remember a single name. Most of the men you meet look the same to you – they’re wearing suits in different shades of blue and grey and brown, broad, colorful ties, and big smiles. You’re smiling too as you shake their hands, while Javi introduces you to them as his girlfriend, and you know he would because he told you he would, but it still makes you feel warm and tingly, and it cements your right to be here by his side. You’re pretty sure you keep smiling at him like a lovesick teenager, but you don’t care. He’s smiling too, keeping close to you, a hand at the small of your back or on your elbow, his chest always right behind you for you to fall back into should you seek comfort.

Sometimes, you feel him stiffen behind you when a few of his colleagues crack jokes about how you were able to tie down the elusive Javier Peña. He rolls his eyes at their remarks, but you laugh along. You know about his reputation, you know about his past relations with other women, but you don’t mind. Why should you? You also don’t mind his colleagues’ reactions – all you care about is that this feels right at the moment and you wouldn’t change it for anything. But you do understand a bit better why Javi was wary of you meeting his colleagues.

To your relief, there is enough to drink, and soon you find yourself standing at Javi’s side, a bottle of beer in your hand, while you listen to him talk to a man about ten years his senior. You don’t understand much of what they are saying – they’re using so many abbreviations it sounds like code – but Javi stands with his hip cocked to one side so he’s leaning close to you, and you enjoy feeling the ghostly shadow of him by your side. Since he doesn’t like to talk about his job, you enjoy seeing this relatively unknown aspect of him, this other man who’s like a stranger to you, who talks with so much confidence and poise that you cannot help but listen to his every word. And you understand why he seems to be so admired among his colleagues, why they were eager to shake his hand when you arrived, why they seek out his company, why they wave at him from the other side of the room. He’s good at what he does, competent, capable, he knows how to be in charge of a situation without obtruding, and you feel such a strong pull towards this side of him you have to take a big swig from your beer bottle to hide how much this is affecting you. The last thing you need is him teasing you about it.

But before your behavior exposes your desires, he suddenly moves away, and you’re pulled after him, not so much in motion but in attention. He’s spotted someone, a woman, and he’s leaning down to press a light kiss to her right cheek before turning to you.

“This is Katie,” he introduces her, and there’s something in the way he says those three words that makes you pause. You smile at her as you shake her hand, but then your gaze flickers back to Javi who suddenly looks at you like he did in his kitchen six days ago, unsure yet with an edge of something more, something you can’t fully grasp, and then you know.

This is the woman. This is this girl at work that he thinks you’re going to like.

You turn your attention back to her to look at her, to see what he’s seeing. She’s shorter than both you, with long, brown hair that she wears in open waves. You think she has a winning smile and kind eyes, and you immediately want to get to know her better. She compliments your blouse, she makes a joke about something Javi did at work the other day, she’s even holding a bottle of your favorite beer. She seems to be all Javi promised her to be.

Then why is he looking at you so nervously, like a small boy bringing home a teacher’s note?

Javi introduces you as his girlfriend, and Katie doesn’t miss a beat before she says, “Oh, he’s told me a lot about you,” with one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen.

“He has?” you ask. You’re not fishing for compliments. You’re genuinely surprised, since you hadn’t expected him to be sharing his private life with his colleagues, much like he doesn’t share his professional one with you. The thought of him talking about you with this woman who is standing in front of you, makes you smile. You decide to tease him about it. “You two spend a lot of time together then?”

Katie’s smile flickers, if only for a short second. “No, it’s not –,” she starts, but Javi interrupts her before she can finish.

“Katie likes fishing,” he says.

It catches you completely off-guard, as does the look on his face. He raises a hand and lets his fingers run over his lips, something he always does when he’s nervous, while he waits for your answer.

“I do,” Katie says with an enthusiastic nod.

You have no idea what’s going on, but you decide to play along. “I go fishing with my dad whenever I’m in the States,” you tell them.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Katie exclaims, and it should, by all means, sound like something she’s only saying to be polite, but it doesn’t. Instead, it sounds like she means it. “Where are you from?”

“North Carolina,” you answer. It’s something you don’t talk about often because it’s not interesting. If you were from California or New York, people would follow up this revelation with questions and stories of their own. But North Carolina? You always feel a bit embarrassed about mentioning it.

But Katie’s reply is something you haven’t heard before. “You don’t sound like you’re from North Carolina.”

Maybe you should be offended – you don’t know what she’s implying with this – but for some reason it just makes you laugh. “Thanks,” you say.

“No, oh my God,” she backtracks immediately, “I didn’t mean to offend you …”

“You didn’t,” you assure her with a dismissive wave of your hand. You glance at Javi then, and he’s following your conversation like a cop watching his partner interrogate a suspect, like he’s afraid of missing just one syllable of what you are saying. His whole body is rigid, his hands are balled into fists at his side, and his face is a mask of pure concentration. “So,” you start again, turning back to Katie, “what has he been telling you about me?”

Several tables have been put together to stand along three walls of one of the biggest rooms in the restaurant. As you sit down and skim the menu, Katie answers your question. Javi speaks of you differently than most of their colleagues speak about their wives or girlfriends. When he talks about you, it doesn’t feel like he would rather do anything else than spend time with you. Quite the opposite, in fact. It makes your face grow hot. You try to distract yourself by ordering your meal, by changing the subject (“So, tell me, Katie, where are you from?”), by watching Javi talk to a middle-aged woman next to him, by watching Javi make her smile.

Katie tells you everything you want to know, answers all your questions in great detail, but always turns the attention back to you. When you ask her about her favorite music, she asks you about yours. When you ask her about her family, she asks you about yours. When you ask her what made her take a job in Colombia, she asks you about how you came to be here. It is a dialogue, not a monologue. She tells you about her brothers back home, about how one is a bank manager while the other went into environmentalism. She tells you she’s always wanted to go to Europe, and she hopes her next DEA assignment will finally get her there. She also tells you about her work for the DEA, about how she spends most of her days in the office, but also about how Javi took her along on a raid recently.

And you realize Javi was right. You do like her. She’s pleasant company, she’s educated but not in that stuck-up way most of Javi’s colleagues are. When you admit that you have no idea who the current Attorney General is, she doesn’t look at you like you just said you enjoy drowning kittens. She just brushes it off and changes the subject. When you tell her about a book you’ve been reading, she takes a small notepad from her bag and jots down the title and author, telling you she’ll check it out. And you truly believe she will.

When you’ve finished most of the food on your plate, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. You check your watch, surprised that it’s already this late. Your gaze wanders over to where Javi is now talking to two young men who hang on his every word. But he’s glancing at you, a question on his face. You mouth, “What?” but he just shrugs. If he’s still worried you won’t like Katie, he has no reason to. You’re having a very pleasant evening.

When Katie gets back, Javi glances between the two of you, running his finger over his lips again. You just smile at him and, with ease, pick up the conversation with Katie once more. Maybe you should talk to someone else for a change, but Katie doesn’t seem to be bored by your company either, so you have no desire to change anything about your current situation.

Towards the end of the night, you too find yourself in the bathroom. You’re tired, but pleasantly sated, yawning while you wash your hands. You can’t wait to curl up next to Javi tonight and tell him about how much you loved talking to Katie. But you’re also not quite ready for this night to be over yet.

When you step out of the bathroom, Javi is there, waiting for you in the cramped space of the dimly lit hallway. You jump, caught off-guard, but when he shoots you an awkward glance, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” he asks. He’s curling the fingers of his right hand into a tight fist and releases them again, over and over. It’s another one of his nervous ticks, one he does when he’s trying to relieve tension.

“Sure, what’s up?” you reply, trying to sound casual.

Javi looks nervous, so maybe you’ve fucked up. Maybe you did something or said something, and one of his colleagues saw or heard and complained to Javi about you. You swallow hard, trying to keep the smile on your face.

“Are you having fun?” he asks next.

“Yes, of course.”

“And the food?”

“Am I enjoying the food?” you try to clarify. “Sure.”

“And Katie? You like her?”

This makes you laugh. “Yes, I like her. What’s this about, Javi?”

He doesn’t reply, just shoots you a look, pregnant with meaning.

“What?” you ask, and finally stop smiling. “Do you want me to say I don’t like her?”

“No, no,” he says, too quickly. “I’m just –”

You interrupt him. “I know you’re nervous about me liking her, but you don’t have to be. She’s really nice.” He still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m gonna ask her if she wants to meet up for coffee.”

“There’s something …,” he starts before clearing his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” you tease him.

“It’s about Katie,” he answers.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath and then breaks eye contact with you, focusing his attention on the wall behind you. “I would like to ask her to join us …,” he says very slowly, making sure you catch every word, “… in bed … tonight.”

Still, you’re not sure you’ve understood him correctly. “What?”

“Just if you want to,” he clarifies.

That doesn’t really answer your question, or any of the other, and there are a lot, but you don’t know where to begin. “Katie?” you say, trying to encompass everything you’re feeling with this single question.

You look past Javi to where she’s sitting, watching the people around her with interest. And then something drops – you’re not sure you’d call it a penny because it feels smaller than that, but you suddenly remember having talked about inviting someone into your bed to see what it would be like. The conversation happened a few weeks ago, after Javi had fucked you for what felt like hours. You had lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve had, but still he didn’t seem to be satisfied. You hadn’t thought much of it then. All you remember is agreeing to give it a try; your fucked-out brain would have agreed to anything. But you had no idea Javi already had someone in mind, you had no idea he’d brought it up thinking of Katie. And suddenly the tone he had used to talk about her in his kitchen a week ago sounds a lot different to you.

Javi’s silent, staring at you with his big, brown eyes, patiently waiting for an answer, while you’re trying to wrap your head around this proposition.

And your mind is racing. You did say yes to the idea of it when he asked you about it, but he just sprung this on you, and it’s so much more than an idea now, it’s a plan, one he’s fully prepared to set in motion. He’s talking about tonight, he’s talking about leaving here and taking her home with you and doing this … tonight. You haven’t been given a chance to prepare for this, you don’t know how you feel about it, how you’re supposed to feel, so you decide to try something.

“Would you like that?” you ask him.

He nods.

“Why her?” you want to know.

“I think she’s nice, pretty, …,” he answers with a non-committal shrug.

“I thought you wanted her to be my friend,” you remind him.

“Of course, I want that,” he’s quick to assure you. “I want you two to get along.”

You reach up to grab his tie then. “Javier, are you sure about this?” you ask with emphasis.

His eyes open wide at this. “Yes.”

You feel a familiar tingling between your legs at hearing his breath hitch. Before you let this go too far, you look over at Katie again and try to imagine her in bed between the two of you, but you can’t. You have no idea how you would even start thinking about this, so you focus on something else, something you’re familiar with, something steady: Javi.

“All right,” you agree. “But there’s some rules I want us to follow.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks and it sounds so incredulous you almost smile.

“Yes, just –”

But he crowds you against the wall, pushes you back against the bricks before you can finish the sentence.

“What –,” you start.

Then he kisses you in a way that’s meant for the privacy of your bedroom, not a public restaurant. You kiss him back tentatively because you don’t want to encourage him too much. He comes even closer, and you feel something brush against your leg.

A smirk spreads across your face. “Why didn’t you say something?” you ask between kisses.

“I am saying something,” he points out.

“Yeah, but sooner.”

He shrugs again, then goes in for another kiss. You hold him back.

“Javi, stop,” you say in a firm voice. “Just listen to me for a minute, okay?”

He nods.

“You have to ask her,” you insist. “I’m not doing it, all right?”

He nods.

“And I don’t …,” you lower your voice, “want you inside of her. Is that clear?”

He nods.

“I’ll be in charge,” you go on. “I’ll decide what we’re doing.”

The “fine” he gives you as an answer is accompanied by a deep rumbling in his chest.

“And she’s not staying over. I don’t care how late it gets, she’s leaving afterwards.” You feel like you need to set these boundaries if you want this to work.

“Can I take her home?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer.

He licks his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

***

You’re in the car. Javi is driving, you’re next to him, watching the lights of the city drift by. Your heartbeat is louder than the sound of the engine, you expect Katie to remark on it any second now, to ask if everything’s okay. But she doesn’t. She’s talking about a book she’s reading, one you’ve also read (and loved) but you can’t bring yourself to hold a conversation. Katie doesn’t pick up on the shift in atmosphere, and if she does, she doesn’t comment on it. But you feel like there’s a deadly snake resting between your feet, one that will bite if you make a single wrong move.

There is a difference between talking about inviting Katie home with you in a room full of people where it’s just a theoretical concept and actually doing it.

Javi agreed to be the one to ask her. But he’s kept quiet so far. All he did was offer Katie a ride home, which she accepted with a big smile on her face. You glance over at Javi as he’s driving, his face alternating between being aflame in golden lighting and hidden in complete darkness. You can see the tension in his facial expression by the way he furrows his brow, but when he glances over at you there is something in his gaze – reassurance, yes, but also an edge of something you can’t quite put your finger on. You tell yourself his eyes are only this dark because your environment is. And suddenly you don’t feel like you’re in danger anymore; suddenly you want to exploit this situation, exploit the power it gives you over him.

You turn around to look at Katie, who’s sitting in the seat behind Javi. She just ended a long explanation about a character’s motivation by saying, “… you know,” and you nod to signal you’ve been listening, even though you haven’t.

If Javi doesn’t want to bring it up, you have to. Because the more you think about it, the more you want to do this, and you don’t want to rely on a man who can’t make the first move.

“Katie, I was wondering …,” you start, and immediately Javi’s right hand leaves the wheel, and his fingers dig into your thigh. You inhale sharply at the sensation but continue, “… are you seeing anyone?” Javi loosens his hold on you but doesn’t let go completely.

Katie shakes her head, then bites her lip bottom lip. “You know,” she says then lowers her voice, “I actually had my eyes on …,” she nods at Javi, “but please don’t think –”

You interrupt her. “No, please, Katie, it’s fine.” You smile at the man next to you, who shakes his head ever so slightly. “I completely understand.”

“Yeah,” Katie sighs and shakes her head so her hair tumbles down over one shoulder. “There are actually a few broken hearts at the office.”

That makes you laugh, if only because Javi looks utterly miserable. “I think he’s secretly enjoying that,” you whisper in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

Javi makes a sound of warning, one that tells you to shut up.

“Javi, I’m kidding,” you say with a light laugh. It’s only half the truth. You know him. You know he enjoys the attention.

Katie, too, starts to apologize, but you interrupt her again.

“Please, you have nothing to apologize for, he can take it.” You wonder if you should press your luck, if you should rile him up a bit more, and you decide it’s the right thing to do. “Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy the attention, Javi. Broken hearts … women pining for you …”

Javi makes another sound of warning. “It’s not like that,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What’s it like then?” you challenge.

Katie interrupts your stand-off before Javi can reply. “You guys, this is me, actually,” she says, pointing at the dark shape of an apartment building at the end of the block.

You turn around to face her again. “Katie, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee? Javi lives just down the street.”

“You sure?” Katie looks at Javi when she asks.

The knuckles on Javi’s hands are white from clutching the steering wheel.

“Of course,” you say, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, all right,” Katie agrees.

You’re all quiet until you reach Javi’s apartment building. He gets out to open the garage door, then drives the car inside. You can’t help but notice that he still hasn’t asked, and you feel yourself getting nervous and antsy. If he doesn’t do it soon, you’ll definitely be the one to bring it up.

As soon as the car is parked, Katie gets out and shuts the door behind her with a dull bang.

Javi turns in his seat so he’s facing you. “What was that?” he asks.

“Ask her,” you tell him. “Now. Or I’m gonna do it.”

“What?” he snaps.

“I was trying to give you an opening,” you explain, as calmly as possible. Why does this have to be so complicated? “Like a scene partner, you know? Set up everything, so you can ask her.”

“Well, you weren’t doing a good job.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I’m gonna do it,” Javi tells you, his voice much softer now, “just give me time.”

“How much longer do you need?” you want to know. “She almost had us drop her off at her flat.”

“I’m doing it,” Javi sighs, “just … go away.”

All the tension in you leaves your body in one big wave and you smile softly at him. “Javi, are you nervous?”

He shoots you a stern look.

You raise your hands defensively. “All right, I’m going.”

You both get out of the car, and while you walk towards the exit to the stairwell, your steps echoing through the underground parking lot, you hear Javi say, “Katie, do you have a minute?”

You stop once you reach the door, lingering in the shadows, your eyes on Javi and Katie. You watch them talk, but you cannot hear what they’re saying; they’re too far away and standing too closely together for the sound to carry all the way to you. All you can tell is that he’s explaining something to her, and when he grows quiet, he cocks his hip, arms akimbo. Then he nods at you.

You have to admit you’re more nervous than you want Javi to know. So much could go wrong. What if she starts shouting at you? What if she storms off? She’s still Javi’s colleague, he would still have to work with her. What were you thinking? Why did you agree to this? Why didn’t you ask a complete stranger? It would certainly have made things a lot less awkward.

Katie is also looking at you, just for a moment, but it’s enough time for her to take you in, from head to toe, and then she looks back at Javi. She says something, something you can’t hear, and he nods. Then she nods, too.

***

You’re on Javi’s couch, Katie is sitting next to you, another bottle of beer in her hand, while Javi has made himself comfortable in an old leather armchair. You’ve been sipping on a glass of water for the past 15 minutes while you’ve been listening to them talk about work. Neither of you has mentioned anything about the proposition, and you have no idea how to bring it up again. Yes, you want to be in charge, but you had hoped Javi would do more than just ask. You had hoped he would initiate something … anything.

But instead, they’re both relaxed and at ease, talking about some new regulations that have been introduced recently, while you try to find a way into the conversation, while you try to find something more elegant than, “Well, anyway, do you guys wanna take this to the bedroom?”

Luckily, there’s only so much time you can spend discussing regulations on car safety, and soon a tense silence settles over the room, settles between you, waiting to be cut, to be torn apart, and you know that this is your chance.

“So,” you start, and immediately both Javi and Katie turn their heads to look at you. You take a sip from your water before continuing. “Katie, there’s some things –”

She interrupts you immediately. “I know, Javi told me. I’m fine with it.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I just want us to go over it one more time, to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

God, why do you sound so awkward? This isn’t supposed to be a business negotiation and yet it feels like one. You don’t want to alienate Katie by insisting on those rules, but you need something to hold on to once you get started.

“I’m gonna be in charge,” you say quickly. “I hope Javi mentioned that.”

“He did,” Katie confirms with a nod.

“And I want you to leave once this is over.” It sounds mean, but it’s too late to phrase it nicer now.

“Yeah, sure,” Katie says, her expression neutral. “No problem.”

“I’m open to trying anything,” you go on. “But the minute someone feels uncomfortable with something, we stop. All right?” You look at both of them for confirmation. They both nod. “I need a verbal confirmation, please.”

“Yes,” Javi says, “we stop.”

“Of course,” Katie agrees.

“And there’s one more thing,” you say, trying to work up the courage to address it. You know it’s silly to be nervous about it, especially since you all just agreed to be open with one another, and since Javi already knows about it, but you still feel apprehension at the thought of bringing it up.

“Yeah, I know,” Katie says before you can continue. “No penetration.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, in the same tone of voice she used to talk about the new regulations that suddenly you feel like there won’t be any problems at all.

“I’m fine with fingers,” you say quickly, “just not …”

“Yes, and I’m completely fine with that,” Katie assures you.

You have no idea how she does it, how she can sit there and talk about this without flinching. Maybe you’re the problem; maybe you need to relax more. You enjoyed your evening talking to Katie, you enjoyed getting to know here, so there is nothing to indicate you’re not going to enjoy this. Katie is certainly set on enjoying herself, judging by the way her eyes roam over Javi, practically undressing him with her gaze.

And suddenly, you don’t feel shy at all. You feel brave and bold, and entirely not yourself as you lean closer to Katie and, before you can change your mind, capture her bottom lip between your lips. Katie makes a surprised sound, but then her hand is at the nape of your neck as she pulls you close. You can taste the beer lingering on her lips as you pry them open with your tongue, and you feel her gasp softly against your skin, and you just know that this won’t be a problem at all. You feel bolder with each passing second, not breaking the kiss when you rest your hand against her thigh, and she’s not breaking the kiss when you move it higher up to cup one of her breasts. All that catches your attention is a sharp intake of breath somewhere behind you. Katie hears it, too, and it makes her break the kiss.

“So, where’s the bedroom?” she asks, putting down her beer.

***

Javi’s bedroom is dark, except for the occasional flicker of light from a passing car that illuminates the walls and the bed for a few short moments. Neither of you switches on the light as you enter. It is a quiet procession, slightly awkward, as if you all don’t quite know how to approach this. You still feel apprehensive, but this feeling is slowly being replaced by giddy excitement, by adrenaline and arousal mixing together to form a dangerous, explosive cocktail you long to control but you also want to see ignited. You try to breathe in deeply, slowly, but your throat feels tight as your heart beats loudly against your ribcage.

You want this, you have to remind yourself, and it’s not the act itself you’re thinking about, but what you discussed just a few minutes ago. You wanted to be in charge, you tell yourself as both Javi and Katie look at you, their faces hidden behind thick shadows.

Katie looks as nervous as you feel. You’re all new to this, but she’s not as used to hiding her emotions behind a solid mask as Javi is. She glances at you, then back at him, waiting for you to say something. Or for him to do something. You were so brave and determined in the other room, as if you knew exactly what you were doing. You were another person. But now this feels solid and real, not something you just talk about with Javi to see the heat in his gaze. They actually expect you to do something, to guide them, and you’re not sure you can do it.

Javi, ever observant, ever determined to look out for you, senses your insecurity. Of course he does, how could he not? He is focused on you, it feels like you’re the only person here who matters to him, like this is about you and no one else. He takes a step forward until he’s a hand's width away from you, then pulls you close into a deep kiss, one that leaves you breathless within seconds. His tongue is everywhere, and his teeth nip and bite at your lip and neck until all you can do is cling to the collar of his shirt to help you ground yourself. He pushes you up against the nearest wall until you’re trapped between two solid entities. You’ve never felt safer and more sheltered. Your initial insecurity blows off as you lose yourself in the attention he’s paying you. His hands are eager to explore, roaming across your chest, pulling open your blouse with so much force you hear one of the buttons hitting the floor somewhere. You don’t mind; all you want is for him to keep going.

He does, forcing you to spread your legs so he can push one of his strong thighs between them, and you obey willingly, while you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against the hot skin of his neck, against the bulging vein that protrudes when you let your fingers brush against his chest and stomach, trailing lower and lower, eager to reach their goal. Before they can, he pushes up his thigh and you grind down onto it, both of you moaning from the strain and the tension of it. You can feel your slick coating your underwear, you’re sure he can feel the heat through the fabric of both your trousers, and it only spurs him on – he takes a hold of your hips and urges you to keep moving. You do, your eyes fluttering shut, as your entire world is reduced to that sweet friction as you chase your pleasure, completely lost in the moment.

But then his mouth is right next to your ear and he whispers something, his voice raspy and raw, and your whole body trembles.

“Look at you,” he says, and you feel the words reverberating in his chest. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out in a whispered pant. “God, yes.”

He pushes up his thigh again and you let out a moan that fills the entire room.

His lips are still right next to your ear, you can feel his breath tickle your sensitive skin. “Can I kiss her?” he asks. “Will you let me?”

You can’t tell if it’s that he’s so close to you, so overwhelmingly close and solid and present, or if it’s the pleading edge to his voice when he asks you, but something makes you vibrate with desire and all you can do is nod quickly, your head connecting to the wall with a dull thud. You don’t even feel it.

He pulls you in for another kiss, taking his time with you, and you taste him, inhale his scent, drink him down, before you pull back with a soft chuckle. “Go,” you whisper, “she might get bored.”

“Yes,” he agrees, and presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I want you to take off your clothes, all right?” His thumb brushes over your cheek when he quickly cups your face. “Get comfortable …,” he hesitates, “… and if you want us to stop …”

“No!” you interrupt him. “No, please.”

The smirk spreading across his face is too cocksure for your taste, and while he’s turning away from you, you’re already trying to come up with a plan to get back at him.

Your skin still burns, it feels like your whole body, every cell, is on fire, your lungs struggle to draw in air to keep you alive. You’re sure you look like a mess, your fingers tingle and your legs shake, and you just can’t explain it, why he suddenly has this effect on you. You’re attracted to him, more than you’ve ever been to another man before, and he makes you feel so good whenever he touches you and fucks you, but this is new.

Your eyes never leave his back as he steps over to where Katie is standing completely still, as he pulls her close by her wrist, cups her cheek, his fingers tangling in her long hair, and then his lips are on hers, and she melts against him. You listen to her soft moans and his rough pants as they explore each other, and suddenly your body burns up with longing again, longing to be touched and kissed, longing to pull out those same sounds from someone else. You watch as he undresses her with adept hands, as he roughly cups one of her breasts and she mewls, satisfaction flashing across his face, as he shoves one hand between her legs, then turns to you with a satisfied grin.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know.

You hurry to get out of your clothes while Javi does the same. Katie is leaning against the wall, her body trembling, and you know how she feels, you know about the burning between her legs, about the heartbeat pounding in her ears. You’re all too familiar with the effects of his touch, his kisses, his filthy words whispered against sweat-slicked skin. But she’s been hit by it without a chance to prepare herself. When another car drives past, you get a glimpse of her flushed skin and the glimmer in her unfocused eyes, and yours flutter shut for a second in response as your hands curl into fists.

If this is what Javi gets to see when he touches you it’s not surprising he does it so often.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, helps you settle down comfortably. Katie follows, her gaze fixed on Javi’s hard cock, eyes wide.

“No,” he says, as if he can read her mind. “She’s first.”

It’s against your deal, against the rules you set for this to work. He shouldn’t be in charge, you should be, you should tell them what comes next, how to approach this. But when one of his hands grips your thigh and pulls so your legs spread and you hear a hissed breath as he looks at the evidence of your arousal slick and glistening between your legs, you lose all will to take charge. Instead, you let your head fall back and wait, wait for him.

And then there’s something else, too; Katie, on your other side, much smaller, less imposing, but there, smelling sweet and clean where Javi’s scent is heavy and choking. She settles down comfortably next to you, her body pressed against yours, and before you can get used to the feeling of her own arousal against your leg, she softly moves your head, so you look at her, and then she’s kissing you hungrily. Suddenly, her sweet scent is all you breathe and taste, her soft lips against your own ignite something deep within you, something you already felt back in the living room but which you pushed down for the time being because it wasn’t the right place. Now it is, and you pull back and push one of your legs between hers, watching how her jaw tightens, how her eyes open wide, and then she starts rolling her hips, coating your skin with her slick. You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and force her to look down, to watch herself, and when she does, you’re suddenly filled with two of Javi’s fingers, stretching you open.

A hoarse moan escapes your throat as he pulls them out again but immediately replaces them with three. You’re used to it, used to his thick, strong fingers stretching you, but you’re so wound up and on edge that it almost feels overwhelming. There are tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but then you feel Katie’s lips against your neck, and it brings you back down.  

Somewhere above you, Javi huffs. “You’re so wet,” he says, his voice unbelievably deep and rough and it makes a shudder run through you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You want to come up with a witty retort, but you can’t, not when you hear what he says next. “Do you want to feel her, Katie?”

“Can I?” Katie whispers against your neck, but before the question has left her mouth in its entirety, you’re already replying.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan, trying to push up your hips to take Javi’s fingers in deeper.

He grips you with his free hand and pushes you back into the mattress. And then you feel the much softer touch of Katie’s fingers against your stomach, stroking you soothingly. She even whispers a soft, “Shh,” against the shell of your ear, and you squirm in reply, but then she finds your clit and softly circles it, once, twice, and you go limp at the same time as she bites down on your neck to muffle a breathless, “Fuck.”

You share that sentiment. Her fingers feel nothing like Javi’s. They’re softer both in touch and pressure but combined with his three still buried deep inside of you, still fucking into you with wet, obscene noises, you feel like you’ve found Heaven on Earth. You’re close, every muscle in your body tenses, and you close your eyes with a deep groan.

Suddenly, Javi’s hand closes around your jaw and he pulls. “Look at me,” he demands. “I want to see you.”

Reluctantly, you open your eyes, but then you see it. Javi is looking at you like he usually does, with amazement and want, but there is also a different edge to it, something between unrestrained lust and uninhibited pride, and something like adoration too, and he’s never looked at you like that before. It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come with a hoarse cry, tightening around his fingers, pushing him even deeper into you, and this time Katie has to hold you in place with a firm grip as he continues to fuck you with three wet fingers, fuck you through your orgasm, the muscles on his arm taut with the effort.  

Only when you hiss and try to move away does he stop. He leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple as you shudder and try to catch your breath. Katie’s hand moves up to stroke across your stomach in lazy circles, while she presses small kisses along the underside of your jaw. You swallow hard and close your eyes – you have never, never, felt like this after an orgasm; you feel so open and vulnerable with both of them doting on you like this, but you also feel safe and secure. The only thing that’s missing is a feeling of deep satisfaction, and you might have an idea how to achieve that.

“You all right?”

It takes you a moment to realize Javi has addressed you, but once this information registers with you, you nod slowly. “Just give me a second,” you answer, your voice raw. You clear your throat and the movement stings.

Did you scream? You probably did but you don’t remember.

Javi relaxes, sits up, and carefully pulls out his fingers. You hadn’t even realized they were still inside of you, and you hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He only smirks at you, a lopsided grin that ignites another spark of desire deep in your belly.

“Lie down,” you tell him, your voice still hoarse and dry.

He looks at you, a question on his face.

“Come on,” you urge him, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you’re closer to him. “Lie down on your back.”

He does as he’s told, lying down on your right side next to Katie who’s still cuddled up to you, still trying to kiss your neck, your shoulders, anywhere she can reach. But your eyes are on Javi, and on the unreadable expression on his face. There is definitely some curiosity there, some inquisitiveness, and you haven’t forgotten – you haven’t forgotten about wanting to get back at him.

With a finger under Katie’s chin, you tilt her head up to kiss her, a slow kiss that quickly turns into something more. She grips your arm and holds on as you take your time with her, exploring her mouth, exploring all the ways you can make her sigh and whimper. By the time you pull away, she’s a quivering mess and you can’t blame her, especially not once you realize why her moans have grown louder and more desperate during the last few minutes.

Javi’s hand is between her thighs, and you see him move two fingers in and out of her at a leisurely pace. This sight – his thick fingers, the same ones that were buried so deep inside of you only minutes ago, now coated in her slick – makes you bite back a moan that’s trying to force its way out of your chest. You lock eyes with Javi as he pushes a third finger into her and she drops her head onto your shoulder with a strangled sigh; there’s a challenge in his gaze, one you’re ready to accept.

You run your fingers through Katie’s hair and watch Javi continue what he’s doing, listen to the obscenely wet sounds his movements make, and whisper soothing words to the woman by your side, whisper to her how good she is for you, how well she’s taking it, how pretty she looks on display for you like that. You know Javi can hear you, you see his cock twitch when you ask, “Would you like him to taste you?” and her breathlessly replying, “Yes.”

Javi moves to get up, but you quickly put a stop to this by shaking your head. “No,” you say, “we’re doing this my way.”

Yes, there’s definitely curiosity in his gaze, but you also don’t think his eyes have ever been this dark before.

You softly kiss Katie again, then say, “Hey,” in the quietest voice you can muster, giving the circumstances. “Look at me.”

Katie opens her eyes and gazes at you, her brow knit tightly, her eyes glazed over with lust. The sight makes you bite your lip, and her gaze immediately flickers down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh.

“Are you all right?” you ask her.

She nods slowly.

“If there’s something you don’t feel comfortable with, just tell me.”

She swallows and nods again. You have a feeling she wants to say something but doesn’t trust her voice.

You nod too. “Get up,” you say, giving the softness in your voice an edge to show her this isn’t up for debate.

Javi slowly pulls his fingers out of her and you see her thighs quiver at the loss. You help her into a kneeling position.

“He’s gonna taste you now, all right?” you ask, making sure everyone is on board with what’s going to happen next. “I’m going to take care of him, so I don’t want you to worry about that. But you’re going to look at me the whole time.”

Her eyes widen as she realizes what you mean, and you hear Javi inhale sharply behind her. You let them find a position that is comfortable for them while you move to settle between Javi’s legs. His cock is an angry, red color and you cannot wait to feel the weight of it in your hand, to give him some of the relief he’s craving. He’s been so good for you – for the both of you –, he deserves to be taken care of. You let your eyes wander to the tip, to the drop of pre-cum that is inviting you to lean down and taste him, when you hear a deep groan vibrate through his entire body, so depraved and unrestrained it makes you look up.

Katie’s thighs are planted to the left and right of Javi’s head, his hands are digging into her soft flesh to spread them even further. Her head is thrown back in pure bliss as he licks up into her, holding her down so he can reach as much of her as possible. You’re completely mesmerized by the sight in front of you, by Javi’s face buried between another woman’s legs, by her arousal coating his chin, and it makes your own cunt clench with need. For a moment, just one brief moment, you consider abandoning your plan, taking him inside of you until you’re joined, connected, until nothing could pull you apart, and then fucking him until he spills inside you, moaning your name into Katie’s cunt.

But you don’t.

You take a deep breath, then wrap your hand around the base of Javi’s cock.

His moan of strained relief sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

You run your fingers up his length and swipe your thumb across the tip, collecting some of the pre-cum. As a response, he digs his nails deeper into Katie’s thighs and she cries out, a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“He likes it rough, you know,” you say, circling the tip of his cock with your thumb lightly, casually, as if you were doodling a circle while talking to someone on the phone.

Katie’s eyes snap open and she looks at you, but you’re not sure she sees you. You don’t blame her. You’re well aware of what Javi can do with his tongue. You know what it feels like when he moans against your wet cunt, your swollen clit. In fact, you’re surprised Katie hasn’t come all over his face yet.

“Grab his neck,” you say, and cannot help but laugh lewdly when she immediately complies, her slender fingers closing around his strong, muscular throat. You watch as a vein at the base of his neck bulges, straining with effort, while he never once falters, while he continues to lick through Katie’s wet folds like she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. “Go on then,” you say, your hand closing around the base of his cock again and squeezing, “don’t be shy – fuck his face.”

The way Katie follows your orders immediately, without hesitation, without the flicker of a doubt on her face, makes pleasure shoot through your veins. You swallow hard at the sight of her rolling her hips almost leisurely, her fingers still wrapped around his throat for purchase, while he drinks her down without complaint, a dark flush creeping up his chest and neck.

You’ve teased him enough.

You pump his cock once, twice, before settling yourself so you can wrap an arm around his leg, running your fingers through his coarse, dark hair, and then you finally allow yourself to taste him. You suck the tip of him into your mouth, letting his taste burst on your tongue, appreciating it like you would appreciate expensive wine. You take him in deeper, his heaviness familiar against your tongue, his taste sharp and strong, and he rewards you with a deep, dark growl, with low moans, with clipped sighs. One of his hands find its way to the nape of your neck to push you down further, and you let him. He’s been patient enough – he’s allowed to take for a while.

But there’s something else, too, another noise, one you usually don’t hear when you do this: the wet sound of his tongue against Katie’s center, her quiet gasps mixed with his strained huffs. You can feel yourself get impossibly wet at hearing them, at hearing this ambient noise all around you, and you let out a moan of your own before hollowing your cheeks to take even more of him in your mouth until his tip brushes against the back of your throat and you feel tears sting at the corner of your eyes.

Javi lets out a low growl and pushes his hips up. You hold him down, try to restrain him, but his muscles tense, his breathing gets ragged and then ….

You hear it, a quiet gasp, and look up. Katie’s eyes are on you, her face is flushed, she looks like she’s burning up, and it takes you a moment to realize what is happening until you notice she’s stilled completely, and her hands have left Javi’s neck and are braced against his broad chest, her nails digging into his flesh, leaving angry marks. She’s coming, she’s coming all over his face, while he continues to lick her with the most obscenely wet sounds you’ve ever heard. She doesn’t even have time to call out or shout his name because she’s so overwhelmed, taken completely by surprise, and you are, too. All you can do is sit up and watch her, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face, as she comes completely undone without a single sound.

You don’t give her much time to catch her breath, neither of you do. With a firm grip, Javi pushes her off him and you immediately set the next step of your plan in motion.

“Do you want to return the favor?” you ask her.

Her eyes grow wide, and it feels like she’s unable to speak, but she nods eagerly. You can see her heartbeat, a quick pulsing in her neck, tempting you, and you lean forward to kiss it.

“Go on then,” you whisper against her skin.

You swap places; she settles herself between Javi’s legs and you lie down next to him. He looks like a mess. His chest is rising and falling rapidly like he’s just finished running a marathon. There are marks all over the skin, and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes are glazed over, and his curls are damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. You run your fingers through them, trying to smooth them back. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, drawing your eyes lower to his mustache that’s impossibly darker.

The urge to kiss him becomes unbearable.

When you do, he doesn’t taste like himself. There is another taste mixed in there, one that is foreign to you, and you bite down on his lip possessively when you taste it. He lets out a low growl and bucks his hips, drawing your attention downwards.

Katie looks up at the both of you, tears in her eyes. She’s doing her best, but you know how it is, you know that Javi’s size can be overwhelming at first. You decide to help her, to make this as enjoyable as possible for both of them.

“He likes a firm hold at the base,” you say.

Katie’s fingers close around his cock in a firm grip and Javi hisses, his breath fanning across your neck.

“Good girl,” you praise. You don’t know where this is coming from, but Katie’s eyes flutter shut and Javi’s chest rumbles with a desperate purr and you know you’ve said the right thing. “Use your tongue more,” you continue, “and try to get out of your head … he likes it sloppy.”

Katie’s tongue darts out to lick along the underside of Javi’s cock, from base to tip, before she takes him in her mouth again, doing her best to hold him steady. She doesn’t break eye contact with you and it’s only when you nod encouragingly that she lets him fall from her mouth with a wet plop, a trail of spit connecting her to his tip.

“Yeah, that’s better,” you tell her. “Keep that up and he won’t last long.”

You turn your attention back to Javi who looks at you with eyes impossibly dark. If there was a source of light in the room, you’re sure you’d be able to see your reflection in them. You grip a tuft of hair at the top of his head and hold him in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask him, whispering the words into his ear, against his hot, flushed, sweat-slicked skin.

He nods, nothing more.

“I want to hear you say it,” you urge him on.

When he answers you with words, you hear why he was trying to communicate non-verbally. The “yes” he gives you is a hoarse, deep, desperate sound. You had no idea his voice could sound like this, could sound so wrecked, so taut, so pleading. You kiss him, and he kisses you back with such urgency, like a drowning man coming up for air.

You’re drunk, drunk on this power you have over him, drunk on being in charge of his pleasure while not even touching him, and you feel the desire to exploit this, to push him as far as he’ll let you without breaking him. You kiss him back, holding him in place with the fingers in his hair, while you listen to Katie moan around his cock. He moans, too, and his hips twitch, and you know he’s close, one fist tangled in the bedsheets, the other holding on to your arm.

“Katie, stop,” you say.

She does immediately, thinking there’s something wrong. Javi groans in frustration, his hips jerking upwards to chase that bit of friction from Katie’s hand still wrapped around him.

“Change of plans,” you tell them.

“No, please.”

You don’t recognize Javi’s voice. If you wouldn’t have seen his mouth move, you wouldn’t have known it was him who had just spoken.

“Please, querida.” He’s trying to convince you, he really is, knowing you usually can’t resist him when he calls you that, but you can, you have to this time.

“There’s something I want to try,” you tell him, letting your fingers run down his chest. “You said I could decide what we’re doing.”

“Yes, you can, but please …”

“If you do as I say …,” you say slowly, swallowing hard, “you can fuck me as hard as you want.”

He thinks this is hard for him, but it’s nothing compared to how hard this is for you. You’re sure you could come from hearing him say two more words in that voice of his. Luckily, he shuts his mouth and nods, determination on his face.

You sit up. “Katie, come here.” You beckon her close with a wave of your hand. “Lie down next to him.” Katie does as she’s told, glancing at Javi whose eyes are fixed on you. “Make sure his hands stay where you can see them. He’s not allowed to touch himself.”

“Yes,” Katie says, her voice hoarse.

You allow yourself to give her one kiss, just one, before you frame her chin with your thumb and index finger and turn her face so she’s looking at Javi. Where Javi’s skin is burning, Katie’s is cool to the touch when you let your hands run down her sides and over the taut plane of her stomach. She sucks in a quiet breath as you brush your fingers over her thighs, over the mound of hair between them, and then you touch her.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, at feeling her soft, warm, wet center. You run your fingers through her drenched folds, you listen to her gasps and whimpers, you hear Javi’s voice, too, but you can’t understand what he’s saying. And then, with a shallow breath, you push one finger into Katie. You feel her clench around you, you hear her whisper your name in surprise, but you’re too mesmerized by the sight of your digit vanishing between her folds to look at her.

You get it. You get it now. You know, you understand why Javi loves doing this to you.

When you add a second finger and pick up the pace, Katie moans loudly, but still not loud enough to drown out Javi’s aroused grunt. You finally lift your head to look at them both, at Javi, whose mouth hangs open, who has a look on his face like he’s trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle, and at Katie, who’s doing her best to keep her gaze on Javi, but whose eyelids flutter dangerously.

You shift positions and then your face is level with Katie’s weeping cunt. You pull out your fingers, grab her thighs in a tight grip, and give her one experimental lick, just a taste, just a sample. It’s so different from what Javi tastes like, it’s less heavy, less prominent. You try it again. And again.

Katie is a whimpering mess by now; one of her hands is resting against the top of your head; what the other one is doing, you don’t know. All you can focus on is the feeling of her against your tongue as you suck on her clit. That makes her scream, and you do it again, until her voice is hoarse.

Then you hear Javi. “You like that?” he asks, and you think he’s talking to you, but when you lift your eyes, you see he has Katie’s face in a tight grip, forcing her to look at you.

Katie nods.

“Tell her,” Javi demands, tightening his grip.

“Fuck,” Katie moans, and for you, this would have been enough, but not for Javi.

“You can do better than that,” he coos.

“It – you feel so good,” Katie tries. “God, I … more, please.”

“What do you need?” Javi asks. “Tell her.”

“Can I have … I just need … a finger,” Katie answers, her face and chest impossibly red, her expression open and vulnerable, her eyes glazed over. “I just want something to come on.”

You pull away for a second, a smirk on your face. “You can have two,” you say, before shoving two fingers inside her. You feel her tense around you, pulling you in deeper, and when you put your tongue back on her clit, she lets out the filthiest, most desperate moan you’ve heard her make all evening.

She didn’t moan like that when Javi was between her legs.

“Do you want to come?” you hear Javi ask her, and a strangled sound is the reply. “That good enough for you?” he asks you.

“No,” you say between licks.

“You heard her,” Javi goes on. “Try again.”

“Please …,” Katie whimpers. “I need to …”

You push your fingers impossibly deeper into her and she tightens around them with a hoarse scream, over and over, while you suck her clit into your mouth again with a filthy sound. She tries to pull away then, but you hold her in place with your free hand.

“No,” you say, your voice breathy. “Another one.”

Javi lets go of Katie’s face and shifts on the bed. Your eyes flicker to him, but he’s keeping his promise so far.

“Think you can do it?” he asks Katie.

“I don’t know,” she answers.

“You can,” you tell her. “Just keep an eye on him.”

You’re on thin ice, you know that. There’s only so far Javi will allow you to push him. But you feel drunk on the power you hold not only over him, but also over Katie. Her legs tremble when you drag your tongue through her wet folds again, her muscles twitch, and her hips push upwards. You hold her down, then repeat the movement with your tongue before pushing the tip of it into her. Katie’s head falls back with another loud moan, and this time you let her roll her hips against your mouth before pulling away.

The desperate whimper she makes cloaks your mind in a hazy, filthy mist of lust.

“Tell me, Katie,” you start, lazily pushing the tip of your finger into her, “who’s better? Me or him?”

You don’t look at her as you say it, you look at Javi. He holds your gaze, his expression unreadable, but there is something in his eyes, something that reminds you of a gathering storm.

“You,” Katie breathes out. “You, fuck!”

And then the storm breaks loose in Javi’s eyes. You see the lightning, hear the thunder, you feel the electricity prick at the back of your neck. You shouldn’t have asked Katie this question, you shouldn’t have provoked him like this, but here you are. There no taking it back now.

Even as you turn your attention back to Katie, even as you taste her cunt once more, you know he’s watching you. You feel his heated gaze, you feel something simmer just beneath the surface. As long has Katie moans and writhes beneath you, you’re safe. Javi won’t make his move. But as soon as Katie comes, you will have to pay.

And she does, eventually. She pushes her hips up, pressing your face against her with a firm grip at the back of your head, and you feel her come all over your tongue and chin with quiet shouts of pleasure.

Before you have time to collect yourself, before you have time to sit up or catch your breath, Javi is behind you. You don’t even see him move, you only realize he’s changed position when you feel the heat of his body against your back, when you feel his fingers on your sides, when you feel him slam into you. The sheer force of it pushes you up the bed until you’re right above Katie’s dazed face. You hold on for dear life, your fingers gripping the bedsheets, as Javi fucks you with so much force you can feel him everywhere. You don’t even have enough air left in your lungs to cry out, all you can hear is his skin against yours and his low grunts as he’s finally taking what you’ve denied him for so long. There is nothing you can do but let him.

You know you won’t last long, neither of you will. But when you feel Katie’s fingers against your clit, when you look into her eyes and see her bite her lip in concentration, it’s too much. The contrast between Javi fucking you at a punishing pace and Katie’s soft touch, almost like a caress, loosens something within you before your entire body tenses up. Something is happening to you that you cannot quite explain. You feel yourself grow unbelievably wet, so wet Javi slips out of you completely for a second but pulls you back onto him with a rough tug, and then you hear Katie moan out a low, “Shit”. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, feeling wrung out yet taut at the same time. It’s so overwhelming you feel like you’re about to explode, like you cannot keep going, but they don’t stop. Javi has an arm slung around your stomach as he holds you in place, Katie has your hip in a firm grip while she circles your clit with a movement that’s enough to keep you on edge but not push you over it. Javi has grown completely quiet, and you know exactly why; you know what his face looks like even though you can’t see him, you know he’s about to come from the way his muscles twitch against your back. But you don’t know if you can give him what he wants, if you can come on his cock buried deep inside you, his cock that sends jolt after jolt of rough pleasure through you. You’re too overwhelmed, you won’t be able to let go.

But then, your face still buried in Katie’s neck, you hear her say, “Come for us,” and that’s all it takes. You do, your muscles closing around Javi’s cock like a vise, while you bite down on the soft skin of Katie’s shoulder, trying to muffle the scream that tears itself from an undiscovered place within you, so well hidden, so deeply buried you had no idea it existed. And while you feel wave over wave of pleasure rush through you, you also feel Javi flood you in wave over wave of hot release, his body completely still, holding you in place until he’s done.

He pulls out of you with a wet sound, and you immediately sink down next to Katie, spent and exhausted and more tired than you’ve ever felt in your life. Katie kisses your cheek, your temple, your lips, anywhere she can reach, while Javi gets a wet cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. The second to last thing you remember is Javi joining you on the bed again, his strong arms wrapping around you, whispering soothing words.

The last thing you remember is taking Katie’s hand into yours and saying, “Stay.”

***

It’s early morning, the street outside Javi’s flat is still quiet, and you yawn as you lean against his arm, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast?” you ask Katie as you watch her put on her shoes.

“Thank you, but I have a lot of work to catch up on,” she rejects your offer again with a smile. “Another time maybe?”

“Do you want to grab coffee sometime?” you ask her.

“Sure!” she exclaims excitedly. “Anytime.”

“I’ll give you a call, okay?”

She nods, then pulls you away from Javi and into a tight hug. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says, her arms still slung around you. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” you say, before pulling away.

Katie turns her attention to Javi. “Thank you,” she says. For what exactly, she doesn’t reveal.

Javi, his hair still messy from sleep, wearing nothing but an old pair of boxers, looking exhausted and tired, still manages to smile at her. He leans down and presses a kiss against her cheek. She presses a kiss against his lips.

“See you,” she says, meaning both of you. 

taglist (mostly people who showed interest in this fic): @acdeaky | @ah-soka | @chasingdreamer | @codenamewife | @darksber | @deliriouslybewitching | @dindja | @doin-stuff | @filthybookworm | @for-my-satisfaction | @frannyzooey​ | @itssmashedavo​ | @kesskirata​ | @leannawithacapitala​ | @murbeft | @omgreally​ | @pedropascaldice​ | @phoenixhalliwell​ | @phrog-seeds | @pilothusband​ | @queenofthefaceless-main | @reluctantlyresponsibleadult​ | @skyshipper​ | @softpedropascal​ | @speakerforthedead0​ | @starrdvstkenobi​ | @sunnydunnydays​ | @tacticalsparkles​ | @theorganasolo​ | @walt-breslin​ (if your url is crossed through it means I couldn’t tag you for some reason, I’m sorry!)

[novelconcepts]

I love your filling in of the moonflower scene. Just the tenderness of it all 🥺

Do you think you might write a short piece about Dani finding the first grey in Jamie‘s hair in the future? Every time I see the gifsets of Jamie‘s (very sexy) grey strands I have to think about Dani‘s possible reaction

Jamie doesn’t tend to notice these things--little changes in her own appearance, little alterations made by the simple passage of time. Her attention, she scoffs when Dani laughs over her failing to pick up on a burr caught in her hair after a trip to the park, is better suited to other things. “World’s big,” she says, tilting her head to allow Dani to comb the remnants of whatever tree she’d walked beneath from her curls. “Why should I go wasting time starin’ at my own damn face?”

“Because it’s a good face,” Dani tells her. She doesn’t add that Jamie’s face, like everything about her, makes more sense than the rest of the world. That nothing about Jamie seems to come out of nowhere--every scrape and scar is accounted for with a story, every wrinkle turned out from the edge of her lips or around her eyes sparked by the familiarity of her frown, the inevitability of her smile. Everything about Jamie can be traced back to the honesty of time spent in the sun, or injuries incurred at work, or letting another year stroke its fingers across her skin. 

She notices the first gray hair maybe five years in. They’re on a camping trip, small tent pitched just upshore of a gently lapping brook; Jamie, crouched beside the water to inspect a turtle, looks up with a grin, and Dani notes a flash of silver at the crown of her head.

She doesn’t point it out. It’s too easy to anticipate Jamie’s amused drawl: “Got a gorgeous beast right here, and you’re worried about my hair?” She tucks the knowledge safely away, entertained by the idea that Jamie is carrying a secret upon her own head and has no idea.

She says nothing, but her fingers seek out the unexpected silver the next time Jamie comes close enough. She trails her hand through rumpled hair, watching the familiar warmth of brown cascade across her skin, pleased to find several more bursts of light wound in among the dark.

“What?” Jamie asks, smile crooking the way it always does when she senses Dani is about to poke fun. “Bein’ a weirdo again.”

“Am not,” Dani replies, and kisses her. 

It becomes a bit of a private game, an amusing turn of events: Jamie, the most naturally-observant human being in the world, has absolutely no idea she’s shot through with unexpected arcs of silver. No idea at all. At first, Dani thinks she’s intentionally ignoring the color leaching out of her hair; a flash of memory spirals back, Judy plucking what she called my little secret out by the strand and holding a finger to her lips as she reached for a box of red dye. Heavy maintenance is very much not Jamie’s speed, but maybe turning her cheek and feigning ignorance achieves the same goal.

A month goes by. A year. They’re turning up on their own time, these pops of colorless strands standing stark against dark waves, and Dani takes it upon herself to brush her fingers across each one she finds. She likes very much the depth they bring to Jamie’s hair, the way the sun catches a little differently when she turns her head. Likes the knowledge that each strand is a stamp of memory--proof of time spent. 

Likes, most of all, that Jamie legitimately seems to have no idea. Jamie, who tugs a black elastic band off her wrist with her teeth, raking the messy tumble out of her eyes, perpetually annoyed with the curls that always seem to evade her hands. Jamie, who spends hours with a book in one hand and Dani’s hair sifting through her fingers, and still has absolutely no clue what’s happening on her own head.

“You’ve never cared, have you?” Dani asks one afternoon, watching Jamie sort through their spectacular collection of cassette tapes, little plastic cases clicking comfortably to break up the quiet. Jamie, cross-legged on the living room rug with Survivor’s Vital Signs in one hand and REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity in the other, raises her eyebrows.

“Seemed silly to go alphabetical while they were multiplying like fuckin’ bunnies, but now we’ve slowed down a little--”

“About looks,” Dani corrects. She’s hanging half off the couch, the tips of her fingers brushing Jamie’s knee. Life has been getting less predictable lately, messier around the edges; she looks into mirrors with breath held tight in her lungs, uncertain of what will look back. Touching Jamie has become less about habit and more a matter of lifeline. “You’ve never cared about how you look. Maybe the only woman I’ve ever known to say that.”

“I care,” Jamie says, with very little defensiveness. It is astonishing sometimes, looking back at the woman she’d met in that manor kitchen, how little defense Jamie seems to have for her these days. Questions are met in good faith, answered in kind, like Jamie knows there’s nothing Dani could ask that would intentionally bear teeth. “Care when I need to.”

“Like when?”

“At the shop,” Jamie says, tossing aside a Paul Simon cassette with a wrinkle of her nose. She finds Pat Benatar instead, sets it in the pile between The Beatles and Blondie. “Always look professional, don’t I?”

“But you don’t like--think about it? What you’ll look like in twenty years? Or fifty?”

“Fifty, Christ.” Jamie rolls back her head, grinning. “Be a hell of a thing, stacking fifty more years on. What d’you think you’ll look like in fifty years, mm?”

Dani doesn’t answer. It’s too early to tell what the smudged face in the mirror might mean--too early to panic--but the idea of fifty years more with Jamie seems terrifyingly unlikely. 

“Anyway.” Seeming to sense her unease, Jamie rocks up onto her knees, awkwardly shifting across the rug to lean against the couch. She braces a hand behind Dani’s head, her eyebrow arched. “You tryin’ to say I don’t pay enough attention to my looks? I don’t scrub up enough for you, is that it?”

Her fingers brush Dani’s ribs, digging in just hard enough to tickle. Dani squirms, laughter burbling out against Jamie’s neck. 

She doesn’t bring it up again, preferring the secret of Jamie’s slowly graying hair held within her own heart. The threads are becoming more insistent as the years drift by, joining tiny lines etched into Jamie’s skin. Her hands, put through so much work, are comfortably worn at knuckle and fingertip. Her smile pulls the skin around her eyes a little tighter as they celebrate eight years--nine--ten. 

She looks good with the extra age, Dani thinks. She wears it all so well, without pausing to prod at herself in the bathroom mirror; if she’s the least bit unnerved by the passage of time, she never lets it show. If Dani didn’t know better, she’d think Jamie never really looks at herself in the mirror at all. 

Too busy looking at me, she thinks, and tries not to ache at the idea that Jamie has forgotten herself beneath the need to keep her attention on what she considers more important things. Like watching for one of Dani’s moods to spike up in public. Like waiting for Dani’s shoulders to hunch against ghosts only she can see. 

Dani doesn’t look into mirrors herself much these days, either--though, every once in a while, a glimpse will sneak up. Just the barest flash of her own face in the passenger mirror of the car, or the idling bathwater. Sometimes--less and less often--the face waiting is even her own. 

It is so her own, those days, that Dani finds herself embracing a new concern. Something odd, something she’s only started to really see in recent memory. 

Jamie is starting to show her age, little by little. Not all at once, not in any way that is strange for a woman creeping into her forties--but the years are there, certainly, stamped gently into her skin. The years are threaded through her hair, these silver pops around which Dani’s hands seem to take on a mind of their own. There’s something wonderful, lively, even sexy about the way time is impacting Jamie--grounding her a little more every year, the natural wearing of all those hours hung like medals around her shoulders. 

Dani, catching sight of herself in the bathtub, can’t help but notice: no one could say the same for her. Not that time is beating away at her, not that time is turning her to stone before she’s ready--but that time appears to be doing nothing at all. Her eyes bear no extra marks, though she has spent just as much time as Jamie laughing, frowning, holding her breath as the world spins beneath her. Her hands look just the same as they had in 1987. 

Her hair is still stubbornly gold.

“Do you think it’s strange?” she whispers one night--not entirely sure if Jamie is even awake, not sure she can even bear the answer Jamie might give. 

“What is?”

She swallows hard, fingers carding gently through Jamie’s hair. The gray seems to gleam in the glow of the streetlamp through their window. 

“That I’m not...that I don’t look...”

Jamie pushes onto one elbow, peering at her in the dark. “You look like you,” she says, when Dani is unable to press on. “You look like Dani.”

She’s trying to answer the other question, Dani understands, the one being asked with greater frequency: am I here? am I me? what if I’m her, deep down, and have been all along? She shakes her head. 

“That’s not...I’m not...”

Jamie waits, brow knit the way it always has when she’s listening. Even when her expression smooths out into sleep, that small divot will remain, etched into her skin like a tattoo memorializing all these late-night conversations. Dani reaches up, presses her thumb gently to it now, her breath hitching when Jamie turns to kiss her palm. 

“It’s nothing,” she says. There’s no way to explain it without making Jamie worry more, worry again, lose yet more sleep watching for signs Dani is slipping away.

Jamie nods slowly, not quite believing, not quite daring to call out the lie. “All right,” she says, and the silver in her hair seems to burn, and Dani loves her enough to close her eyes and pretend everything is okay.

When morning comes, she wards off the thoughts. It’s easier, in daylight. Easier to turn her head, fix her eyes on Jamie, allow the familiarity of Jamie’s hands, smile, kiss sweep the fear back under the bed. The nights are long, the dark heavier than it has any right to be, but in sunlight, Jamie shines. The chain around her neck--the colors in her eyes--the silver shot through her hair. In sunshine, Jamie is the most alive any person can be.

And if she is, so must Dani be--because there is so much love in the way Jamie tips into her arms, so much affection in the sweep of her kiss, in the way she leads them around the kitchen in an impromptu waltz. Jamie, as always, burning away the shadows. 

Jamie, who dips her backward, drinking in her laughter with the biggest grin in the world. Who cuts her eyes to the right. Who tightens her mouth in surprise.

“Hang on,” she says, her hands still braced at Dani’s back and hip. “What the fuck is this?”

Dani’s heart gives a giant leap, her hands clutching at Jamie’s shirt for balance. This is it, she thinks. She can see her now. She can see her, not me, and it’s over, it’s all over, it’s--

“Dani.” Jamie is frowning, easing her back to her feet. She crouches down, gazing into the window of the oven. One hand rises to her head, her brow furrowed.

She sees her, Dani thinks, backing toward the sink. She sees her, and--

“Jesus, how long has my hair looked like that?” 

She blinks, shaking the panic away. “What?”

Jamie is looking at her, almost awestruck, her face clean and younger than usual with the last vestiges of sleep clinging to her eyes. “All that gray. Knew there were one or two, but--”

Dani is laughing. Leaning back against the counter, the mirth spilling out of her, she laughs. Jamie, straightening up with a low groan--her knees pop audibly, her head shaking--looks bewildered.

“Suppose you thought you’d just wait,” she says dryly, “and see if I ever noticed?”

Dani nods, cackling too hard to answer. It’s become so normal, counting the bright bursts amid Jaime’s natural hair color; she’s honestly forgotten Jamie ever didn’t have these silver sparks. Every inch of her, from the crow’s feet etched near her eyes to the tiny scars on her hands, is quite simply home. 

Jamie is plainly trying to look grumpy now, her hand tangling her hair. With Dani giggling like this, unable to catch her breath, she isn’t doing a very good job.

“Been this way a while?”

“Years,” Dani giggles. “Since I proposed. Before.”

Jamie rolls her eyes, slouching the two steps it takes to reach the counter and Dani’s shaking frame. “You,” she says in a mock-irritated tone, “are supposed to help with these things.”

“With what?” Dani brushes the hair back from her eyes. “You’re beautiful. And more than that, you’re...stately.”

“Stately,” Jamie repeats with a snort. “Haven’t heard that one. That’s a Hannah word, if ever there was one.”

They sober, just a little, the appropriate affection offered to memory. Jamie’s head bows against her own, her nose brushing Dani’s lightly. 

“I like it,” Dani says, her voice soft. “I like watching it happen. Like growing old...”

She trails off. She isn’t growing old, is the thing. Isn’t changing. Is as incontrovertible as a lake set into ancient grounds. She is not growing old at all.

Jamie’s fingers curl around her chin, tipping her head back. “Growing old together,” she says, firmly. Not denial, exactly--just certainty. Jamie, imposing her will on a world that tries so hard to have its own way with them both. 

“Growing old together,” Dani repeats, and even if it isn’t true in the strictest sense--even if it doesn’t look like it should--she knows Jamie believes it. Knows Jamie will fight tooth and nail to make the universe bend around her love. 

There are things, Jamie believes, that are natural. Organic. Exactly as they should be. There are things that can’t be changed by dreams, whims, magic spells. 

They will grow old together. That is, Jamie believes, the way the world works. The way it has always been and will always be. Jamie’s hair grows silver. Jamie’s skin etches with lines. Jamie’s hands are solid in her own, though she sometimes bends her fingers with a grimace, rubs her wrists when the weather angles toward snow. 

They will grow old together. For Jamie, there is simply no other consideration to be made.

“I like it,” Dani repeats, fingering the nearest strand of gray. “It’s distinguished.”

Jamie, shaking her head, is grinning as she leans in for a kiss.

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.17|Brittana

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

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

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

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

“I saw that,” Quinn comments slyly.

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

She really couldn’t help it though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I guess so.”

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

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

If anyone deserves it, it’s Brittany.

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

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

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

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

\\

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

“What an amazing performance,” Whitney compliments her.

Santana smiles bashfully, “Thank you.”

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

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

Whitney gives her a knowing smile before Pete excitedly interrupts.

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

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

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

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

Santana smirks, “Exactly.”

Pete matches her expression, “Super cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maribel sighs, “It’s not that, mija.”

“No? Then what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana frowns at that, but Maribel continues.

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

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

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

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

“You have to at least try, right?”

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

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

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

Santana only nods, hoping that she’s right.

\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes her want to run and hide.

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

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

“I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hector doesn’t say a word, just listens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana nods as she bats away her tears.

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

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

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

Santana looks confused, “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Santana wonders with a nervous laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not sure?” Hector asks.

Santana pauses to wonder: Is she really unsure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana gives him a grin, “I know.”

\\

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

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

\\\\\

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

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

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

No new messages. No missed calls.

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

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

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

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

Brittany blinks out of her thoughts, “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

\\

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

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

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

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

“Is Santana here?” Quinn asks Brittany.

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

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

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

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

Brittany nods, but she’s still not convinced.

\\

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

“Where you off to?” Mike asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So kind of him,” Mercedes comments sarcastically.

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

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

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

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

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

“At least one song,” Mercedes says.

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

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

\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something’s definitely up.

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

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

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

“I know,” Santana says shyly.

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

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

“The courage?”

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

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

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

Brittany bites her lip, “He did?”

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

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

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

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

“But you know what?” Santana asks.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana blushes, “Says you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how’d he take that?”

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

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

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

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” Santana hums.

“What’d you say?”

Santana shrugs coyly, “Just stuff.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and it makes Santana giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink up,” Brittany smirks while Santana cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True,” Quinn nods.

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

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

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

“Ooooh,” Mike and Sam tease in unison.

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

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

“What then?” Quinn wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

\\

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

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

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

“What?” Brittany starts to smile too.

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

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

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

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

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

“Duh.”

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

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

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

“They'd be crazy not to have you.”

“So you’ve said,” Brittany smirks.

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

“Maybe I'll see you there?”

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

“Yeah,” Santana says hesitantly.

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

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

Brittany’s speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santana looks hopeful, “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Makes sense,” Brittany shrugs.

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

“Like me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“You and me both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brittany felt hopeful and then she remembers seeing her for the first time.

Santana, in her tight skirt and low-cut top. Santana, with her hair and make up perfectly styled. Santana, looking like she belonged on a cover of a magazine with how gorgeous she was just sitting poolside.

At the memory, Brittany glances from the door to her side where Santana watches quietly. She finds herself smiling at how it’s nearly the exact same spot as the first time she ever saw her.

“What?” Santana wonders, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking,” Brittany answers, “This spot is pretty special.”

Santana quirks a brow as she looks around, “Is it?”

“Totally,” Brittany replies before pointing over to the edge of the pool, “The first time I ever saw you, you were sitting right over there.”

Santana chuckles, “Was I?”

“Yup!” Brittany grins, “You were sitting by the pool with Quinn and I remember thinking how I’ve never seen a girl looking so sad at a party before.”

“Oh,” Santana blushes, “I used to hate coming to these things. You know, I nearly didn’t go to that one?”

“Really?”

“I just didn’t have the energy for it,” Santana shrugs, “But I showed up because I thought I had to – for appearances sake. Also because Quinn wanted to see Mike and she didn’t want to go alone.”

Brittany chuckles, “Well I’m glad you came anyway. Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself by being the sad girl…”

Brittany gives her a amused look, “I also remember thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

Santana smirks, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany starts to smirk too, “This spot is even more special now because this is where you kissed me for the first time.”

Santana softens, “It is, isn’t it?”

They keep trading these smitten grins as they sink into each other’s sides. It feels like it has been the longest day ever, but she’s so happy that she’s ending it like this – with Santana by her side in there little bubble of happiness and…so in love.

So in love, that gets Brittany thinking.

She contemplates if she really wants to be this truthful but she figures the alcohol is making her speak more freely than usual, so why not? Honesty has always been the best policy anyway, so Petey says.

“You want to hear something funny?” Brittany quietly asks a moment later.

“What?”

She inhales a shaky breath before saying, “I've never said that to anyone – I love you. I mean, I've had love for people and I've said I love you to people in like a friendly way and I of course tell my mom and Pete that I love them too but I've never meant it like this before.”

Santana stares back with this adorably confused look on her face and it makes Brittany blush. It all makes sense in her head, but she isn’t sure if it’s translating the right way out loud.

“I've never meant it like,” Brittany pauses for a moment before she smiles, “Like I’m in love with you.”

Santana turns to her with this awed expression on her face. It’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing or that Brittany’s speaking in gibberish. Dark brown eyes shift back and forth as if she’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t going to come. When Brittany only continues to stare back – sure and unwavering – Santana lets out a shy giggle.

“You're in love with me?” She asks breathlessly.

Brittany nods, “I am.”

“Wow,” Santana blushes. Her lips part and press after that but the words don’t form. It isn’t until Santana let’s out another shy giggle before staring back at Brittany and softening, “Well, don't I feel special.”

“So you should,” Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s trying so hard to be cool about it although she can tell that Santana’s anything but cool on the inside.

Santana gives her one last look of disbelief before leaning in like she’s about to tell her a deep dark secret, “You know what?”

“What?”

Santana bites her lip before saying, “I've never told anyone that I love them before. You’re the first.”

“Really?” Brittany feels like she’s floating again, “Now I feel special too.”

“So you should,” Santana teases.

Brittany giggles at her response before settling into her side.

What a whirlwind of a year it has been! Never would she have thought that this is how she’d be ending it, with an amazing girlfriend by her side and another championship title in her possession. It makes her wonder what the rest of the school year has in store for her, it makes her wonder what obstacles she’s bound to face.

She knows they’re inevitable, because nothing comes easy. If anything, this past year has taught her that much. But this time she has something she didn’t have before – she has someone she loves and who loves her back.

She has Santana.

With her, Brittany thinks anything is possible.

[buildarocketboys]

8 and 12 for the autism asks?

Woops, sorry anon, you gave me the opportunity to infodump about autistic!Nathan and I'm afraid I took it lol

8. If you have any, what are your special interests?

Honestly at the moment it's probably mostly just Heroes (and specifically Nathan and Peter Petrelli lol). Like I usually say cooking/baking but somewhere in the past few months that's kind of faded out a bit and I don't love doing as much as I did, which is a shame. Apart from that I've kind of been having fairly short-lived hyperfixations (I'm currently watching season 4 of Glee after stopping at s3 last year, which was probably the wisest place to end but never mind).

12. Do you headcanon any characters as autistic? If you want, tell us why you headcanon them as autistic.

Aha...see my previous post. But I'm gonna give a rundown on why I headcanon Nathan as autistic, because I think it's a headcanon with a lot of evidence:

- Fake smile/exaggerated facial expressions

- makes weird/awkward comments/jokes (gifset)

- Stims (even though he masks a lot) (gifset)

- Scripting (gifset) - also his career/s as lawyer/politician are ones that involve a lot of talking/interacting with people but a. They're things that you can probably script/practice a lot of, go over every scenario etc and b. Nathan sucks as a politician lol. Like he can deliver a speech OK, but he was gonna lose (and knows he's going to lose) when he's running for Congress which is why Linderman has to kidnap Micah to fix the vote and also he literally only becomes Senator in s3 bc the Governor sees him having a mental breakdown on TV and obviously thinks 'this guy will be so easy to manipulate'

- Echolalia (there are several examples of Nathan repeating back something someone's already said to him, I think my favourite is in the s1 finale when Claire tells him that "the future isn't written in stone" and he repeats that back to her later when he flies in to have his Big Damn Moment

- Tripping over his words/words running into each other (gifset)

- Black and white thinking ie in Haiti when he's like ‘If I don’t save the world I’m basically evil’

- on the other hand, difficulty knowing what the right thing to do is, relying on other people to tell him - His whole ‘what is right/why can’t I tell the difference speech’/asking Peter what he should do

- in .07% - difficulty comprehending/empathising with a large amount of people/finds empathy difficult for people he doesn’t know/care about - I have a fairly developed headcanon that's pretty much canon about Nathan's Big Damn Moment saving Peter/New York really being entirely bc of Peter and his empathy for him (and knowing/being told by Claire how much it'll kill him to be responsible for the deaths of millions of people, since Peter has a hyperempathetic streak bigger than he is) - but yeah, that. (Actually I might make a post about this bc there's a fair amount of detail in it that's basically what I take from what we're actually given in canon and I think it would make a nice piece of meta. I talk about it with Anni all the time.

- despite not exactly being the most honest/moral person, Nathan's also really not that good at lying, especially when he has to do so spontaneously/improvise. Family brunch is probably the best example of this

- the people that Nathan most vibes with (as in, makes a real connection with that isn't shallow and based on him masking and trying so hard to fit in) in the show are characters that are either neurodivergent/mentally ill in canon or who I headcanon as neurodivergent/autistic: Nathan+Hiro (who I also headcanon as autistic), Nathan+Matt [who's canonically dyslexic], Nathan+Niki [DID(/multipersonality disorder lol, which is obviously poorly handled by the show but still, the mentally ill/ND vibes)], Nathan+Peter obvs. Claire's probably the only one who doesn't fit this but a. They don't vibe immediately, Claire takes a while to actually understand him and b. Claire's best friend is Zach and her S4 gf is Gretchen. Both of whom have incredibly autistic vibes. Claire is basically the ND equivalent of a fag hag (in the nicest possible way - I love her)

- kind of a sad/horrible one, but when Arthur says ‘I made you’ to Nathan in s3 it really gives me Lovaas being like with an autistic person you have to build the person from the ground up gross dehumanising vibes. Arthur is the worst lol

- Is actually extremely emotional (and a lot of his actions are extremely emotionally motivated - for better and for worse) e.g. Angela talking about him being ‘overly theatrical wrt Kelly’s death/calling him a sap, and him not even being able to look at the photo Meredith shows him of Claire (that whole scene really shows how hard he tries to mask his emotionality to his own detriment; he can barely look at the photo bc it's so much, and then he doesn't get Meredith to call Claire back - even though he basically came down to Texas to meet her - because he doesn't know how to handle his emotions about finally meeting the daughter he thought was dead without losing it)

- Obsessiveness (the hundreds of photos of Peter thing+him literally calling himself obsessive)

- Mostly blank/unemotional facial expression and relatively monotone voice even when talking about/in extremely emotional situations (e.g. I’m not leaving you Peter). His voice *does* show emotion sometimes but only in really intense situations and even then rarely (I think this is partly masking, partly his natural expression)

- Doesn’t like touch (apart from if it's Peter/someone else he feels safe with) especially when emotional (gifset) also his and Claire's hug in s1 is extremely awkward lol

- Burnout/losing control of his life (s2 and also kind of s3 - Nathan's a mess). Basically all the mentally ill Nathan stuff - side effects of autistic burnout/masking for basically all his life

[goatsandgangsters]

okay okay okay EPISODE 6. I’m still… out of fucking breath. from the last one.

I didn’t plan on live-blogging because then I’d have to keep pausing to type but actually I’m having too much fun, I guess I’m liveblogging now

my posts just keep getting longer and more and more incomprehensible 

I forgot to mention in my last one, but it was a really good call to include the whole “west ravka wants to secede” plot line. it adds a lot, politically, and also adds a sense of urgency. whereas the book is a little bit like, the darkling is kind of a dumbass if you think about it because ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS WAIT LIKE 50 MORE YEARS, WHICH IS NOTHING IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS, but now there’s definitely like. political urgency and necessity that the books don’t convey to the same degree.  

also adds a lot of dimension to What Happens At The End of The Book. which, I’m not there yet, episode-wise. but liiiiiiiiike.

BEN! BARNES! HAS! THE! RANGE! oh I love that they let him be lovesick and terrifying back-to-back like this, god he’s so fucking good. like, we all knew? we all knew this was a stroke of absolute casting genius? but god I don’t think we were actually capable of realizing To What Degree

oh god Inej looking at Alina I’m gonna CRY I actually got teary-eyed??

poor fedyor. he was planning so many double dates and then darklina had to go and breakup. (side note: I am SO INTRIGUED that the darkling thinks ivan is hilarious, so I just think the two “grumpy one/sunshine one” couples should go on a double date. get ravkan ice cream. why can’t this family ever have a funky fresh good time)

“I’ll never let go, helvar”

yo, real talk, why’s the darkling’s bed so short. dOES HE SLEEP WITH HIS LEGS DANGLING OFF THE END. this furniture is absolutely not proportionate to his height at all.

also it’s interesting how often he calls her “miss starkov” instead of alina, considering in the book he’s like “hello alina, how are you alina, alina how is alina today, alina I’ve seen what you truly are alina, FINE alina MAKE alina ME alina YOUR alina.” I’m pretty sure when I first read shadow and bone, literally the only reason I learned alina’s name is because he kept saying it

FASCINATING, CANON ZOYA/DARKLING???????????? honestly don’t know if I like that??? I prefer to think that he has not gotten laid in a couple hundred years because he’s just bad at being a person and isn’t actually as slick as he thinks he is. I cannot believe they un-canoned Zoya/Mal and canon’d this, UNEXPECTED. feels weird. 

on the plus side, I genuinely want a polycule of a solid half the trilogy characters and I guess it’s getting more canon by the minute! this is zoya and her girlfriend alina and alina’s three boyfriends mal, darkling comma the, and nikolai, who are also or have been zoya’s boyfriends at one point or another plus alina’s girlfriend genya who is also zoya’s girlfriend genya and genya’s boyfriend david” I’m allowed a seven-person polyship right?

fedyor and ivan go on double dates with the seven-person polycule. it’s a really tight booth in restaurants. 

also this is zoya’s ex-girlfriend nina who sometimes visits from ketterdam and brings her boyfriend and her girlfriend, and her girlfriend’s boyfriend, and his boyfriend, and his boyfriend.

AND THEN THEY ALL GET BRUNCH, THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT

baghra can come too but only because she likes getting day-drunk on mimosas with nikolai and bITCHING with him 

god I miss brunch. and friendship. and cocktails. and human contact. 

anyway back to actually watching this episode

I really like that Alina is about 10x more Actively Involved in everything that happens to her vs. in the first book where she’s more along for the ride

it is emotionally a weird experience to see Mal get pelted with a water bottle and go YEAAH followed by aw nah, he doesn’t deserve that. There is A Mal in another universe who deserves to get pelted by 15 water bottles but it is not this Mal. This Mal can stay. Book Mal is on thin fucking ice and will be pelted with water bottles. But Show Mal is Valid and Allowed. god Archie’s SO FUCKING good. I CANNOT BELIEVE I’M HAVING SOFT FEELINGS ABOUT THIS BUT HERE WE ARE, LIFE IS FULL OF SURPRISES, such is archie’s power and he deserves praise

“Your powers don’t scare me” OHHHHHHH SUCH AN IMPROVEMENT THANK GODDDDDDD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

WHAT the FUCK I am having EMOTIONS over malina scenes

I LOVE NINA SO FUCKING MUCH. I love her endlessly giving Matthias a hard time. he deserves it. god I love HER SHE’S SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

ohhhhhh the MLEMS are FIIIIIGHTING

OHHHHHHHH THE EMO BOYS ARE FIIIIIIIGHTING

oh. my god. they stole the fuckin. they. okay but like, his horsies tho :(((((

KHDFGKSJDFHGSKDFJHGKH DAVID!!!!!! hkdfjhgdfkjghsdfhg d a v id. fjkdhgsdkjfhgdfh dddddaaavviiiiiiidddd. DAVID.

I absolutely love the thought of the darkling, ivan, and david hanging out, because it’s like the three least social people in all of ravka. and they absolutely LOVE one another’s company because no one talks, there is no small talk, and they can just SIT in SILENCE and it’s nICE. sometimes they make brief eye contact and nod a couple times and then go back to politely sitting in silence. 

sdfjkghskhdf his disdainful little ~a d o r a b l e~ about mal and alina deeply resonates with my experiences of reading the books. though AGAIN, WEIRD TO BE HAVING FEELINGS NOW. 

GOD SO NOW I HAVE TO DECIDE!!!!! IT’S SO FUCKING TEMPTING TO WATCH 7 AND 8 TOMORROW NIGHT. IT IS SO TEMPTING. THEN I CAN UNBLACKLIST IT AND REBLOG ALL THE GIFETS.

BUUUUUUUT I have a busy and hectic week and 7 and 8 would be a really nice treat to have waiting for me NEXT Friday as motivation to get through the week

But that also means I have to keep being vigilant about not looking at Content for another week AND IT’S REALLY HARD TO MAINTAIN THAT RESOLVE NOT TO LOOK

god I don’t know what to do. delayed gratification normally comes so naturally to me, this is an actual struggle. I thiiiiiink I’m gonna try and hold off because future!me will be grateful next friday. but mid-week me who wants to look at gifsets will be mad. 

[yossariandawn]

Tagged by @astarkey and @alwaysupatnight , thank you! I do love interesting questions! I’m combining these because it would take me days to think up 22 questions. Here are the rules:

Rule 1: post the rules Rule 2: answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write 11 new ones Rule 3: tag 11 people and link them to the post Rule 4: actually tell them you tagged them

Edit: I didn’t realize how long this got, so I’m fixing it so I can put some of it behind a cut. My questions first so people can decide if they want to play along!

My Questions:

1. Set two fictional couples you love on a double date, and tell me how would that play out? One word answers are acceptable if you prefer.

2. Do you like candles? If so, what’s your favorite candle scent?

3. What’s the perfect fic you’ve been craving that wish someone else would write already?

4. If you could have an 15 minute conversation with any fictional character, who would you choose?

5. Above question continued, what would you talk about?

6. What’s one weird thing you loved as a child?

7. Any songs that make you always think of a character?

8. How well can you swim, and do you enjoy swimming?

9. Recommend me a new show, movie, or song!

10. What’s your favorite food that you make?

11. Draft the perfect Zombie Apocalypse Survival Team, 5 characters from any show or movie.

and now I’m tagging @sandalaris, @fortysevenswrites, @starkidmack, @captain-k-jones, and if you follow me and want to be tagged in this kind of thing in the future, just tag yourself and I’ll know to send them your way! I never know who wants to play, and there’s never any pressure to do any I send, I promise! 💖

EDIT: adding @alwaysupatnight​ YOU ARE NOW OFFICIALLY TAGGED

and now for my answers behind the cut:

@astarkey’s questions:

1. Favorite fall activity? Anything outside, to be honest. It’s my favorite time of year! I do love reading in my hammock with a blanket before it gets too cold, though I’m not sure that counts as an activity.

2. Favorite song at the moment? Well, the one I’m most obsessing on is one I’m vidding right now, so I’m keeping that a secret. BUT, I’ve been listening to Setting Sun by Lord Huron a lot recently ever since @alwaysupatnight mentioned it in an ask about Culebra Seth. I hadn’t heard it before and I fell right in love with it. 

3. Last movie you saw in theaters? Oh, it has been awhile since I actually went to a theater. I wanna say it was the first IT movie, cause I remember taking my brothers to see that. If I went after that I guess it didn’t leave an impression on me.

4. Favorite emoji/smiley? I really like 🥳 cause look how excited it is! Close second is 😎 because it makes me think of the Geckos when I use it.

5. Cold weather or hot weather? Cold weather, as stated above!

6. Are you a past, present, or future person? Hmm, I’m going to say present. I am a bit of a worrier by nature, so I intentionally try and keep myself grounded by staying in the moment as much as possible, so I’m not obsessing over what I did or about what could happen next. I’m reasonably successful with it. 

7. From where you’re sitting, what’s the closest object on your right? Water bottle.

8. What’s something you’re weirdly afraid of? (For example, a hair dryer, airplanes, a microwave, etc.) Ok, so this going to sound very weird, but it’s grasshoppers.  don’t mind spiders, hornets, bees, any of the normal creepy crawlies, they don’t bother me at all, but I have such an intense irrational reaction to grasshoppers, like a real fight or flight thing kicks in for me. I understand they can’t hurt me, but I don’t trust those little sideways hoppers AT ALL. Also, I used to spend a lot time catching (and releasing) bugs when I was a small child, and one day one BIT ME, which I didn’t know they can do, and the betrayal was so great that I have never forgiven them. And then if you want to see something that’s even more untrustworthy, google the spider cricket sometime. I don’t see as many of those, but my friend had some living underneath her porch one year, and they are terrible. (also harmless)

9. Favorite snack food? Soft pretzels with cheese are always a good time. And now I want one, dang it.

10. Favorite color to wear? Blue! I love blue so much.

11. Stargazing in an open field, watching the ocean tides on a lonely beach, or late night drives on the highway while listening to good music?  I’m going to pick stargazing in an open field, because that sounds the most relaxing to me at the moment! But the other two also sound lovely.

@alwaysupatnight‘s asks:

1. Have you started any new hobbies this year? Vidding. if I’m allowed to stretch the definition of a year about 1 month past haha.  I’ve also done a ton more “creative" writing since joining tumblr, all these asks and tag games are the most I’ve ever organized my thoughts and put them out there for others to actually see (excluding non voluntary things like schoolwork and work) It’s been a lot of fun to do both, and really allowed me to push myself out of my comfort zone.

2. Read any good books lately? Not recently, I have several checked out I need to get to soon before I have to return them.

3. Favorite color of nail polish to wear? Or if you don’t wear nail polish, the color of the laces on your fave pair of sneakers? I don’t wear nail polish most of the time, though I will let children paint my nails when they want, since they seem to love doing that. And my favorite sneaker laces are just the standard white they came with. I’m pretty causal and laid back fashion wise.

4. Faerie, mermaid, angel, or vampire? This is so broad! Am I reading/watching something they’re in, fighting them, auditioning them as room mates?! I’m going to go with Vampire (Mermaid as a second choice)

5. What is your MBTI type?  INFJ

6. What does your phone case look like? (Describe or post a pic) It’s black, no design. I’m so boring an practical!!!! I picked it out based on reviews, I drop my phone way to much.

7. What is your dream vacation? Camping, with people I like. Maybe a road trip out west.

8. Would you tell us a little about your current WIP? (writing, art, gifset, whatever the project!!) Working on a new vid, I’d let myself get stuck finishing one up, and realized maybe I needed a break from that one. It’s a SethKate one I’ve wanted to do ever since I heard the song, and I’m just going to do it. It’s not AU? That’s all the spoilers for now.

9. What is the best movie you’ve seen this year? I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, BUT YES. Prospect was amazing, and does when that title! Runners up would be Priest, Crawl (I love disaster movies so much) and Knives Out.

10. What are your opinions on the child from The Mandalorian series? Really cute! I have only seen like 3 episodes, but I have seen all the gifs, (especially today 🤣) and look at the tiny adorable space baby with powers 🥰

11. What is your zodiac sign, and do you think it fits your personality? I am an Aquarius, I have no idea honestly. Maybe? Is there an official description I can read somewhere?

[remus-lupin-is-my-type]

Where have I been? (a post for anyone who might still care lol)

Anyone who knows me knows I’ve taken a looooong hiatus from cosplay, but I’ve also taken a general hiatus from this blog as well. I wanted to take the time to explain some of the reasons why. Explanation below the cut.

1. Toxicity

I’ve had this blog for many, many years. It’s always been My Thing to follow back everyone. But in doing so, I’ve accidentally created a pretty decently toxic environment for myself on my own dash? It seems that wherever I scroll, there are people arguing, constant reminders of how terrible the world and society are, and people shaming other people for things they like. My once-fun dashboard of fandom and all things queer, has just become not quite fun anymore? Social justice issues are really important to me, deeply important, but constant reminders about how terrible the world is can really bring me down (particularly in these already troubling times). I know that running from it is a particularly privileged thing to be able to do (I may be pan, but I’m still white and cis), but sometimes I just gotta put myself and my own mental health first. One day I’m hoping to try to take back control of my blog and do some much needed purging, but it’s going to be a monumental task after so many years. But I really do miss reblogging fandom things. I’ve made a completely separate blog for all things Aesthetic that do nothing but make me happy—essentially creating my own little safe space. It’s been a great non-pressure, anonymous way to just de-stress, but I do miss mucking around in fandom nonsense. BUT this also brings me to another reason...

2. Supernatural and The Destiel Debacle

*spoilers ahead for the final season of SPN* That final scene with Cas absolutely destroyed me. I’m a few seasons behind, but when I woke up one morning and Destiel was trending everywhere, of course I looked up and watched the video. And guys. I SOBBED. Not just a few tears, full on WEPT for at least an hour. I was so heartbroken, not just because a beloved character died, but of how he died. The fact that Cas told Dean everything I’ve always wanted him to, but in the WORST WAY POSSIBLE, only for him to promptly die without Dean even saying anything. I just couldn’t deal. I was Properly Depressed for several days after that, and I still sometimes think about it and get really sad. I could have forgiven this, had they put Cas in the finale, gave you hope that maybe he and Dean could be something in Heaven, together, but no. Of course not. The whole thing genuinely put such a bad taste in my mouth for all fandom and network television in general. Also, it hurt me to see people actually calling this a WIN. I’m not here to take away anything from anyone—if you loved it, that’s great and I’m happy for you. But GUYS. It was CRUMBS. Is it great that Cas is a confirmed queer character? Sure, but they killed him the second his confession was over. Rowan Ellis did a great YouTube video about the whole thing, and I highly suggest you watch it, it really put things in perspective for me. The fact is, they had TWELVE YEARS to give you this, and they didn’t. It’s like Marvel expecting us to be singing their praises cuz a Russo brother mentioned a boyfriend, a few minutes out of their ENTIRE MOVIE FRANCHISE. Anyway, I was so disheartened I didn’t want to participate in fandom whatsoever. (Luckily, I’ve recently fallen in love with Black Sails—also thanks to Rowan Ellis—and its amazing writing, characters, story, and queer representation helped give me hope again).

3. Self-image 

This more directly relates to cosplay. I gained weight again, and my motivation to cosplay dropped significantly. Suddenly there just didn’t seem a point to getting into all the makeup and putting in the effort if I wasn’t going to like what I saw on the webcam. Luckily, I’ve recently read a FANTASTIC book called “What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat” by Aubrey Gordon, and it was honestly life-changing. It forced me to completely reframe how I think about myself and society, and I’ve actively been making an effort to feel better and unashamed in my own skin, and it’s been going well! I’ve stopped planning my entire life and happiness and worth around whatever number I wanted the scales to reflect. But, that being said, cosplay is still a struggle for me. Though I’m generally more accepting of myself now, I still find it difficult to play my favourite characters, almost all of which are attractive males. I’m admittedly hard on myself about it, my subconscious constantly telling me that I’m not androgynous enough or sexy enough to play these characters. Of course you don’t have to be these things to cosplay, I’m a huge advocate that ANYONE can cosplay WHOEVER they want, but this is what I, personally, am going through. One step at a time, as they say!

And that’s about it. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, and I make no promises. But maybe I’ll pop in to post a gay gifset or two sometime :) I’ve also been pondering TikTok a lot, so who knows, maybe that’ll be a thing in the future. This explanation was as much for my benefit as to those reading—it feels good to get this stuff off my chest and I hope you understand. Love you all so, so much and I hope you’re all getting nothing but the best out of this hell site lol ❤️

Stay safe and stay happy, Nicki xo

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @queenemori (she/hers)

what are you working on right now? I recently started posting We Don’t Need To Say It, which is a multi-chap Memori actor AU. It’s a slow burn, don’t ask me how I looked at Murphy and Emori and decided to write a slow burn, but it’s what’s happening. I really do mean slow, the chapter I just finished writing is only the beginning of the angst, you’ve been warned. My beta tells me she hates me at least once a chapter if you want an idea of how angsty this is gonna get. I started out writing for Bellarke in this fandom, and I’ll be going back to that later this summer. Anyone who follows me knows I’m obsessed with Emma, and I have an Emma Bellarke AU that’s in the outlining stages currently. I’m hoping to work on it more once I get further into this Memori fic.

what’s something you’d like to write one day? The fic I’m working on now is actually the thing that I was like, “I want to write that one day”. I love actor AUs and I wanted to write one for some fandom at some point, and in January I got this idea, but I was working on other stuff, so I was like, well maybe I’ll write it this summer. And now I am! Though I would like to write something featuring dad!Murphy in the near future.

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? It’s actually one I haven’t published yet! I participated in Bellarke Big Bang this year, and I wrote a soulmates rom-com fic. I’m excited to share it soon once we get the go-ahead, and the artist I got to work with @clarkeindra has made some amazing art to go with it! For ones that you can actually go physically read, I will say You’re Already Breaking My Heart. It was my first fic I wrote for t100 fandom, and also the first thing I wrote after a really long time of just not writing anything, so I’m proud of it for getting me back into something I love and I’m glad that other people seemed to enjoy it. It’s what got me more into this fandom in the first place and how I made some of my first friends.

why did you first start writing fic? I got more into writing around the time I started college, though I always used to write little stories. There were a few times I almost wrote fanfic before then, like the time I almost wrote a Glee fic in ninth grade, or the time my junior year of high school where I almost wrote a Downton Abbey fic where Sybil and Branson were pen pals while Sybil was on her nurses course in season 2. But the summer before college, I wanted to write, and didn’t have any ideas for characters, but I had just read a really amazing next-gen Harry Potter fic called “Potters, Weasleys, and Misguided Snogging” which made me ship Scorpius Malfoy and Lily Luna Potter, or Scorily. So I started writing a couple stories specifically for that ship, back when I still used FF.net. It was just a one-shot and a multi-chap I never finished, but it was fun to interact with people and get to hear what they liked about the story and that they hoped I continued it, so I guess I caught the fic writing bug then.

what frustrates you most about fic writing? I wish people would leave more kudos. I’ve had this discussion with some friends before where they’re like, “What makes you leave kudos on a fic?” and I leave kudos on most fics I read, so it’s very interesting to hear people say they don’t do that as liberally as I do. If I made it to the end of the story, I’m probably going to leave kudos. The writer kept me engaged long enough to get to the end, which I think is worthy of showing some sort of support, even if I don’t leave a comment. Though I am trying to get better about leaving comments more often. Kudos are a very low stakes way to show you like a story that someone put out. Afraid to comment, but want to show the author you enjoyed reading? Leave kudos. A couple of stories I have out have gotten a fair amount of hits, but the amount of kudos in comparison to the amount of people who have probably opened it is a little disheartening. I’ve also heard people say they don’t want to leave kudos on stories that have been out for a while, but I love to get kudos on my old work! It’s fun to see that people are still reading things I put out in like 2017 or even just last year. Kudos brighten my day just as much as comments do sometimes, especially when I know not everyone feels comfortable leaving a comment!

what are your top five songs right now? The answer to this is 98% always related to what I’m listening to when I’m working on a certain writing project lol.

Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex Heartbreak Weather by Niall Horan I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie Bye-Bye Darling by Borns Fire for You by Cannons

what are your inspirations? Red, White & Royal Blue, since I read that recently. It honestly just made me want to write a movie, and I kind of hope that whatever TV or movie adaptation it ends up getting in the future I’m able to work on. I want to be a screenwriter, so I tend to get inspired by TV a lot. The Mindy Project, Insecure, and even Never Have I Ever are big inspirations for me. Or more like, anything that Issa Rae or Mindy Kaling are involved in, to be honest. I write a lot of modern AUs, so just anything that shows good relationship progression or has fun with mundane, everyday situations.

what first attracted you to Memori? what attracts you now? So fun fact, I stopped watching the show for a bit. I binged basically two seasons in a weekend while visiting a friend in like 2017, and I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t obsessed? Then I started s3 and a bunch of characters were getting on my nerves so I put it down for a while. Then I was on Tumblr at the beginning of 2019 and saw a gifset from 3x05 of Murphy and Emori kissing and I was kind of like, “That guy’s still alive? And he has a girlfriend?” So I started watching again, legit only because I was shook Murphy had survived lol. So the thing that first attracted me to them was just the fact that they were a couple at all, I guess. I’d say now that I’ve rewatched the show and seen their relationship develop, I love that these are two people who have always had to fend for themselves and kind of had that “me against the world” mentality. And then they find this other person that cares about them and wants to take care of them, and life becomes a lot less lonely. Also now we get to see their relationship after years together, so they’re very domestic, which adds this lovely sense of normalcy on this post-apocalyptic sci-fi show that I absolutely adore. Their interactions especially in s7 just read as a married couple who are very comfortable with each other, but still incredibly devoted to one another and in love.

Besides Memori, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? For ships, I also really like Bellarke. When I was more casually watching the first time around, I didn’t have much of an opinion on them/didn’t really ship it until season 4, but ever since then I’ve been on board. It’s very clear I’m a huge Memori person, but I do ship Murven, though mainly in AU settings. And Memoraven are my OT3!! My other fave character is Bellamy. And I feel like Gabriel has also quickly become a favorite for me. It’s definitely a mixture of his confused, but obsessed with science vibe on the show and the fact that he has been very fun to write in my actor AU when he makes appearances every so often.

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? Ever since I’ve been home due to the pandemic, writing has kind of been my escape. Weirdly enough, I’ve written so much (both fic and some real life stuff), even though I’m still working and everything like that. And when the BLM movement was getting a lot of traction specifically in our fandom spaces, I was immediately skeptical of people’s intentions because as a Black person in America specifically I’ve seen this happen before where all the attention is on this issue for a couple weeks and then everyone goes back to posting what they normally post about. And I guess this time things are a bit different, but the thing that began to frustrate me was seeing people shame others for saying they were going to watch the next episode of the show or for working on their fanfic. Fandom spaces have been my biggest escape from the news since March and while I was glad people were focusing on this sort of thing, I kind of hated the way people were making it out to be like this was a new issue when in reality it’s just my life. When I close my laptop and go out into the world, I’m still Black. I had considered opening my ask box up for prompts in exchange for someone donating to a bail fund or something like that, especially since I had just reached a follower milestone, but when I saw that Sam was organizing this and it was going to be an ongoing thing rather than just for a certain period of time, it was heartening to see someone realizing that this isn’t something we can just stop talking about even when the media moves on. The structure of these prompts makes it so that a person has to do a bit of research on BLM and educate themselves or confront the issue in a way they might not have had to before. And it gives me a chance to write things like my fluffy Memori wedding fic ! It’s a way to have my little fandom escape and also stay aware of what’s going on in the real world.

what’s your writing process like (esp for prompts, chopped!, etc)? I LOVE outlines! The Virgo in me loves to talk about my fic outlining process lol. With some short one-shots, I tend to just go in with a sentence or concept that I write at the top of the document and just write and see where that takes me. I also put at the top of the document all the things I want to tag it as when I go to post to AO3, so I don’t have to spend too much time thinking of those when it’s time to post. With multi-chap fics, I first make an ideas dump document which is just me typing out a bunch of thoughts, things like who’s in it, the premise, stuff like that. My actor AU has three preliminary documents: My ideas dump, the actual outline, and then the outline for what happens on each season of the TV show the characters are all on, since I reference those plot points a lot. For things like Chopped or prompts I receive, I do a mixture of the outline/ideas dump in one document. I put at the top all the information I received (so with prompts I tend to just copy/paste the ask from my inbox, and for Chopped the different tropes and theme), then think about what characters I want to use if it wasn’t specified, then kind of do bullet points on what happens in the story. These have all been really helpful in terms of keeping me on track, but I make sure to remind myself that things can change as I write and take a different direction than I expected. So my outlines are constantly changing, but the general idea is already written somewhere so I don’t get too stuck.

what are your thoughts on dad!murphy? The concept of dad!Murphy has really been living rent-free in my brain since before the beginning of season 7. I just kind of love the idea of Murphy (who is a character at first glance I feel like people don’t picture as much of a father figure) kind of falling into being a dad in an unexpected way, and then realizing how much he loves it. It’s just such a sweet thought, and I talked about it so much with some of my friends, that we started a Dad!Murphy Enthusiast Club server on discord (we’re always accepting members so DM me if you’d like to join us!). We just kind of talk about our dad!Murphy headcanons, share fics featuring dad!Murphy, and then get excited when people make new dad!Murphy content. It’s a fun time and though I am a very large Memori, I’m a multi-shipper at heart, and Murphy is one of those characters that I find easy to ship with a lot of people, so we love dad!Murphy in all forms!

what are some things you’d like to recommend?  This is a mix of Bellarke and Memori stuff, since that’s what I mainly read.

Literally everything @mobi-on-a-mission writes, but if I must get specific, then Revive and The Cockroach. 

Almost Paradise (We’re Knocking On Heaven’s Door)  by @nakey-cats-take-bathsss , 13 hours by Kats_watermelon, feat. by Debate, and of course, my comfort fic so i sing a song of love  by twilightstargazer.

The best place to find @queenemori is here on Tumblr. You can find her ao3 here. Request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm.

[swiftletinthecloud]

Currently Watching/Started [March 21 April 9 May 8, 2021]

Western Shows:

9-1-1 [2018, drama] (S4) - Weekly, Caught up  Haven’t started Episode 9 yet bc forgot when it came back from break

9-1-1: Lone Star [2020, drama] (S1) - Mostly in the background, only on Season 1 Episode 6

The Equalizer [2021, action/drama] (S1) - Weekly, Caught up   Haven’t started Episode 7

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier [2021, action/adventure] - Weekly, Episode 1/3 Finished

FBI [2018, crime/drama] (S3) - Weekly, Caught up

FBI: Most Wanted [2020, crime/drama] (S2) - Weekly, Caught up

MacGyver [2016, action/adventure] (S5) - Weekly, Caught up ENDED

Men in Kilts: A Roadtrip with Sam and Graham [2021, comedy/reality tv/documentary] - Weekly, Caught up   Finished

Nancy Drew [2019, mystery/drama] (S2) - Weekly, Caught up

New Amsterdam [2018, medical drama] (S3) - Weekly, not caught up. About 10 min into the newest episode for like the past week, but not feeling like watching it.

The Irregulars [2021, mystery/fantasy] (S1) - finished season

Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist [2020, musical/comedy] (S2) - Weekly, Caught up I don’t know, not feeling it lately. Might drop or put it on hiatus

Chinese Dramas:

The Blessed Girl [2021, fantasty/romance/adventure] - Watched first episode on 2/3/21, but idk if I want to continue it or not. Like some of the scenes I saw gifted but first episode was kind of boring and I fasted forward a lot. Dropped

The Blooms at the Ruyi Pavilion [2020, drama/romance] - Still on Episode 27. I don't know; I'm not really feeling it at the moment. ZZH and the secondary couple are probably my main motivations to finish this sometime in the future. I'm just kind of bored of it otherwise

General's Lady [2020, drama/romance] - Watched the first episode and started on the second, but idk if I want to continue.

Legend of Fei [2020, wuxia/action/adventure] - Watched the first episode back in January. Like the intro song, but idk if I want to continue it. The main FL's face is just bland and has 1 expression from all the other scenes I caught while my mom was watching. She also said it was just okay so idk if I want to invest time for 51 episodes of it. Dropped

Oh! My Sweet Liar! [2020, romance/comedy] - Watched Episode 1 December 2020, haven't continued beyond that. Kind of like the vibe and the scenes that I've seen in gifsets.

Painting Heart Expert [2017, wuxia/fantasy] - Started March 4, 2021. Yeah, Idk why I started a new drama. Watched 3 and half episodes, but idk. Don't really like the main ML character so could end up dropping or just leave until I feel like continuing again.

Under the Power [2019, mystery/investigation] - Started Feb. 4, 2021. Watched 3 episodes. Going to sound super superficial but main ML's not pretty enough to keep my attention/overlook his dick-ish behavior. Idk might come back later for main FL.

You Are My City and Fortress/You Are My Hero [2021, romance/drama] - saw a gifset and so started it 3/19/21. Watched first 2 episodes. Probably will continue. Finished 20 28/40 episode, Although now the lack of high risk that attracted me to the show is having the opposite effect bc I can feel myself becoming bored

Korean Dramas:

Man to Man [2017, action/comedy] - started 3/19/21 Watched first episode, interesting enough but don't really like the main FL enough. Probably will drop. Dropped

Must You Go? [2021, musical/fantasy] - started 3/11/21, watched first 2 episodes. idk again why I started it but it looks short and interesting enough. Only 8 30-minute episodes total so seemed like it's doable.

Queen: Love and War [2019, romance/drama] - watched Episode 1 on 3/16/21. Again Idk why I started a new drama but it looked interesting. But I can't have it on in the background bc can't read the subtitles that way and can't find the vietdub version of it.

Vincenzo [2021, action/crime/comedy] - Started 2/24. Finished first 2 episodes. 1st episode was hot 😆 Watching it on Netflix so with subs and can't have it in the background. --> Episode 3 4/20

Zombie Detective [2020, comedy/drama/fantasy] - watched Episode 1 on 10/17/2020 for Choi Jin Hyuk. Looking forward to it but just haven't around to continuing it yet

Currently watching/starting so many things but at the same time, don't know what to watch.

[ncisjes]

I’d find you in every lifetime

Based off this beautiful gifset by @everythingismadefromdreams and this drabble by @mcgeekle where Ziva is prosecuting a case the team worked. Kudos to them both for creating this amazing AU I am having so much fun writing in. Also a huge thank you to @mcgeekle for letting me continue this. 

@benditlikepress @rareshbones

Read on AO3//FF

Take Your Time

Sipping her second drink of the night, she sits at the bar alone watching what feels like the same old news on ZNN. Being stood up was a rare occurrence for her, but this time she really could not fault the man. In the past two weeks they had agreed to get drinks after work on three separate occasions, and all three times she had bailed to work late. 

The Simmons case was moving along on schedule, but it was still too early to tell how the jury was leaning. Her opening argument was flawless, but the expert witnesses had not fared as well as she had hoped under the scrutiny of the defendants defense team. Their one hundred thousand dollar an hour retainer was clearly paying off for their client. 

Regardless of whatever lead the defense had, she was still determined as ever to win this case. Being new to DC, she needed to establish herself as a capable prosecutor. Her track record here had a much slower start than in New York, but that was mostly suffering through learning the quirks of the system and the judges preferences. She always knew the legal field was cutthroat, but D.C. gave New York a run for its money. 

Luckily for her, the jury had yet to hear from the investigators whose findings built her entire case. She had planned to call Leroy Jethro Gibbs as her first witness, but as life would have it an emergency case had popped up keeping him and his team from attending the hearing. 

Though it had been a month since she had seen him, she had to admit she found herself thinking about Special Agent DiNozzo quite a lot lately.  While his delivery could have been better, his charm was what intrigued her to invite him back to her office to try his luck again at asking her out once the hearing had concluded. There was just something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Wondering what he would be doing on a Friday night like tonight, she imagined him sweet talking his way into some unsuspecting co-ed’s bed for the night.

Taking a long slow sip of her drink, she scans the room in hopes of finding someone to take home herself. Her eyes begin sizing up each prospect, noting their features and what she would like to do with them. Her gaze locks on a brunette that is all legs with grayish brown eyes which jogs her memory of a night a few months back. She cannot remember the woman’s name, but the curl of her tongue is still very vivid in Ziva’s mind. Seeing her arm wrapped around the blonde sitting next to her,  Ziva continues to scour the room in hopes of repeating the ecstasy her mind just recalled. 

Her search comes up empty as everyone in the bar has seemingly paired off. She’s about to signal for her tab and call it a night when she spots him out of the corner of her eye. He’s leaning over the bar talking to the blonde bartender who’s name always escapes Ziva. She laughs and leans over the counter, not only matching Tony’s stance but giving him a much better view down her shirt, Ziva is sure. Her fingers play with the condensation on her glass as she waits for him to notice her. He doesn’t disappoint, leaving the bartender without a second glance a few moments later and hastily making his way to her. 

“Ziva David. Fancy finding you here.” Tony leans on the stool next to her. 

“Hello Special Agent DiNozzo.”

“I see you’ve forgotten my name all ready.” He fakes offense.

“It is a lawyer thing. We have to be proper in court and it transcends into our personal lives.” 

“Deflecting really doesn’t help your case here counselor.” 

“I have not forgotten your name, Tony, and I see you have not forgotten your charm.”

“So you do find me charming.”

“I would not go that far.” She smirks.

“So what’s a girl like you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Who says I am alone?” 

“This seat is pushed too far in for someone to have just gone to the bathroom. Unless of course you’re waiting for someone, but judging by your empty drink and the condensation collecting on it you’ve been waiting for quite a while. Our hot shot lawyer from New York couldn’t have been stood up, now could she?” Returning the victorious smirk she had given him moments before. 

“Putting your investigative skills to use on your off time?”

“Only if it means I can sit down here.” 

“I do not think that is a good idea.” She cautions him, her eyes going from playful to serious. 

“Ah come on, who is going to see us? There’s none of you legal types in here. Plus I’m not your witness. Gibbs is.” 

“But you are still a part of his team which makes-”

He waves his hand to shush her, causing her to balk at him.

“One drink.” He holds up his pointer finger as if to make it concrete that they’re only going to have a single cocktail. Somehow she finds herself relenting. 

Taking his seat, Tony waves to the bartender he just abandoned to call her over. Arms crossed over her chest she stares back at him, not moving a muscle. He winks and makes the come hither motion with his finger,  hoping that all can be forgotten with a really good tip on his tab.  She scoffs, throwing the towel she is holding to the ground and walks through the swinging door to the back. 

“Guess we won’t be served by her any time soon.” Tony comments, shifting his body towards Ziva. Before she can respond the other bartender approaches. 

“Hey, sorry about that. Heidi can take things a little too personal sometimes. I’m Jack. What can I get you?” 

“Scotch on the rocks for me and for-”

“I will have another mojito, Jack, thank you.” Ziva answers, effectively cutting Tony off. 

“Sure thing.” Jack smiles and winks at her as he saunters off, causing Tony’s jealousy to spike for some unknown reason. 

“So, you come here often?” Tony asks, drawing Ziva’s attention back to him. 

“Is that what you really wanted to ask me? Generic pick up lines usually work to get girls to take you home with them?”

“I didn’t know that offer was on the table.” He leers at her, grabbing an ice cube from her drink and popping it into his mouth. 

“No I do not come here often, and no it is not on the table.” She glares at him. 

Jack arrives with their drinks, breaking the small amount of tension that had built up. Tony pays in cash and raises his glass to Ziva.

“To future offers. May they be successful and enjoyable for us both.” He gives her a big toothy grin before touching his glass to hers and taking a swig; his eyes never leaving hers. 

Ziva is the first one to break and look away, muttering something under her breath in Hebrew but still finding herself smiling before taking a long drink.

“So tell me, how does the rising star of Mossad find herself practicing law in America?”

“I see you have done your research.”

“It is what I do for a living.”

“Not well enough clearly or you would know the answer. How did one make the jump from Baltimore P.D. to N.C.I.S. with such subpar skills?”

“Answering my question with a question? Deflecting won’t work with me. I use  the same tactic all the time on the job. Nice to know you’re doing your own research on me too though.” He winks at her as he takes another sip of his drink. 

“For the case-”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now my question?”

Their gazes lock and the power struggle begins between them, sizing the the other up, their pupils dilating and contracting with each breath. Finally giving in, Ziva breaks away to look at the bar door closing before her eyes settle on the ice in her drink, her hand fidgeting with the straw. 

“After serving in the Israeli army I joined Mossad at my own volition. I advanced quickly through the ranks, earning awards for my exemplary skills and talents. I had just become a handler when I decided to leave and come to America.”

“What made you do that?”

“My brother.”

Tony stares at her intently but does not push the subject. He can sense she is having difficulty discussing this. She takes a long swig of her drink before continuing. 

“He cautioned me about promoting any higher, said I did not know what I was getting myself into or who I was really working for. As a handler, I was given more access and told more secrets, but I still had some plausible deniability in the big picture of how Mossad operates. It was not until he was killed three months later that I realized he was right.”

Tony’s eyes study her body language as she tells him the bits and pieces of what seems like a much longer and much more painful story than what she is letting on. He doesn’t push the subject, instead letting the silence fall comfortably between them. 

“You did not ask me.” She comments after a few moments pass and the drinks lessen in their glasses. 

“What's that?” 

“The one question everyone wants to know; how he died.” 

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he finishes his drink. 

“I figured if you wanted to share you would.” 

She twirls the last of her mojito in her glass, watching the clear liquid dance through the crystal ice cubes. Pausing as if she is really considering divulging the information. 

“He killed a member of the secret service, Special Agent Caitlyn Todd. He was killed shortly after by what was reported as a terrorist bombing but really was Mossad cleaning up their mess.” 

Tony’s whole body tenses, not only because he knew Special Agent Todd but because he remembered the bombing that occurred following her death. The reports played for days on ZNN of the horrific injuries people had suffered caused by excessive shrapnel intended to inflict the most pain. The death toll seemed to climb by the second. 

“After his death I was obsessed with getting revenge. I had already lost a sister to a Hamas bombing and to have my brother taken from me the same way… I was determined to bring whoever took him from me forward. When I found out it was ordered by my own director… I could no longer remain loyal to an organization that operated that way.” 

Grabbing her glass, she drains the last of her drink before slamming it back on the bar nearly causing it to shatter. 

“I decided to come to America to bring justice for those who could not get justice for themselves.”

Her eyes are downcast as her fingers play with the condensation on her glass once again. Tony takes a moment to collect himself before tentatively reaching to touch her shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad you’re here.” 

She gives him a shy smile, leaning into his touch. They stare at each other for a few moments before Tony breaks the contact. 

“Worked a case with Kate Todd. She was a good Agent.”

Ziva’s eyes widen in shock, not only because he knew her but that they both were affected by the same event. 

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“No, I’m sorry to end your night on such a downer. Didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.” 

“It is alright. I did not mind spending it with you.” 

The words fall out of her mouth before she realizes what she’s said. Luckily she is saved by a man interrupting them. 

“Hey, Tony, sorry to bother you.” He leans on the bar beside him. 

“No worries McInterruptus. Ziva David, this is Timothy McGee, the other and less attractive member of Team Gibbs.” 

Ziva smiles at the glare he gives Tony before extending her hand.

“It is nice to put a face to the name. I read your report in the Simmons case on how the device’s design was flawed and ultimately caused his death. I was amazed by the immense detail you used and then I found out you have a degree in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins and a degree in Computer Forensics from MIT. Very impressive.” 

“Oh, you’re the prosecutor Tony wouldn’t shut up about and the boss wished he would have sent me to check up on instead.” 

Ziva laughs as Tony strikes McGee across the chest.  

“Quiet McTattletale.” 

“One in the same.” Ziva adds, still laughing. 

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Ziva. Tony I hate to steal you away but Abby had too much to drink and is in the bathroom puking. Jardine is in there with her but she’s probably cleaning every surface. We’re probably going to have to carry her out.” 

“I told you to watch her Probie.” 

“Yeah, you try taking her drink away when she’s ranting about people who say they’re vegetarians but eat chicken.” 

“Good point.” 

Tony stands to leave, pushing in the chair as he does. He stops to turn to Ziva before walking away. 

“Don’t move, I’ll walk you out.” 

She doesn’t understand why she listens. 

A few moments later Tony and McGee emerge from the back of the bar with Abby between them, each of her arms slung over their shoulders. Ziva sees a woman exit quickly from behind them, clutching her bag tightly to her as if not to touch anything. The group stops in front of her as Abby begins to babble. 

“Who’s this? Tony, she's pretty. You’re very pretty.” 

“Not now, Abs.” 

Tony motions for Ziva to follow them and she grabs her briefcase from the bottom of the bar before walking behind them. 

There is a cab waiting outside and McGee drops Abby’s arm to open the door before getting in on the opposite side. Tony struggles to keep Abby upright as she goes limp in his arms. Ziva comes up from behind to grab her other side and help get her into the car. She settles in the backseat with her head in McGee’s lap. 

“Tony did you get her number? Get her number!” Abby calls out as Tony moves to close the door. 

“We have her number Abby.”  

“It was nice meeting you!” McGee yells out to Ziva. 

Tony finally shuts the door, letting out a loud breath, his hand wiping over his face. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“It is quite alright. It is nice to see people taking care of other people.” 

“Do you want to share a cab?” 

“No, I actually live right down there.” She points to a grey building a little ways down the street. 

“Oh so you do come here often.” 

They both laugh at the implication. 

“Well I guess this is goodnight then.”

“Yes, goodnight Tony.”

“Goodnight.” 

He extends his hand and she meets him in the middle. The touch lingers for a little while too long, sparking electricity in them both. After several moments, Ziva finally breaks away, turning on her heel to walk away. He watches her walk until she makes it to her building, his eyes enjoying the way her legs strut in her tight pencil skirt. She pauses to wave to him before unlocking the door and going in. Tony turns to heads home, feeling excited for the first time in his career to attend court.