#like jesus can you take one moment to Think Critically instead of going to great lengths to defend someone u don’t even know??

[p3arlsandcoff3]

Frog and Toad; Tales of a simpler life

Hello. This is my first essay post - maybe I'll make a masterlist, maybe I won't.

''Frog and Toad'', a short book series written and illustrated by Arnold Lobel in the 1970s, is a collection of tales about two friends - Frog and Toad. They both live in the forest and go on many adventures together. Every time my mind reminds me of the existence of the duo, one word comes to my mind - Home. Frog and Toad is a cozy sort of series, and every tale has a comforting feeling attached to it. In this post, I'd like to address the philosophy of Frog and Toad - Simple living.

• Most Frog and Toad stories have a similar premise - one of our two protagonists has an everyday issue he has to face and the other helps him overcome this. When we think about everyday life, we think about moving forward - getting promoted, making more money, moving away, getting fitter - always an additive, and fast. A great example for this is hustle culture - the glamorization of putting all of your self into your line of work. I personally strongly dislike hustle culture - as a communist I believe that the improvement of the self should not be calculated with money, but with health and happiness, and that instead of success being isolated to an individual, if someone succeeds it should benefit their surroundings. "Frog and Toad" doesn't fit with those sort of ideals of hustle and constant improvement. The duo's problems are, well, very simple.

• Arnold Lobel describes himself as a domestic kind of person ;

"I'm really not much of a traveler or wanderer or adventurer and I think that feeling certainly comes into my books. I notice that all of my books are rather homebound"

He is certainly right. In his writing and illustrations, Lobel creates a very welcoming (ahem cottagecore ahem ahem) atmosphere - his language is simple and inviting and his coloring style consists of warm earth tones. Even the protagonist's houses have this feeling, consisting of wooden furniture and warm, fluffy pillows. (I'd like to add Frog and Toad are both very middle class, and these stories are affected by their privilege). Although they don't own many possessions - honestly, the most common item you'll see that costs any money in the Frog and Toad series is the protagonist's bed - Frog and Toad find their place in moments and people.

• Allow me to give an example (my favourite personally). The story "A list" follows Toad - a usually anxious and worried type. He wakes up and realizes he has many things to do, and so he writes a list of the things he wants to get done that day;

- wake up

- eat breakfast

- get dressed

- go to frog's house

- take (a) walk with frog

- eat lunch

- take (a) nap

- play games with Frog

- eat supper

- go to sleep

Before the story even starts, we can see Toad doesn't really have many things to do that day, and yet he puts heavy emphasis on what he does have. That is one of the building stones of simple living - the silent agreement to enjoy every minute you get out of your life.

As the day progresses, Toad crosses out what he accomplished, until he takes a walk with Frog. As they are walking, a gust of wind blows over his list, and he is frozen in place. Frog starts running towards the list, while Toad stays back, claiming that running after his list is not on his list, and thus not something that he should engage in.

• Frog didn't manage to catch Toad's list. Toad claims "I cannot remember any of the things I wrote on my list of things to do. I will just have to sit here and do nothing." In this instance, Label criticizes the close minded way people who are only interested in 'the grind' (Jesus Christ I can't believe I just wrote that) think - they only see the things they want to achieve as goals worthy of energy, and nothing else. Toad may have wanted to play games with Frog to strengthen their bond, but the intention or the way didn't matter - it was the goal that did.

• Frog and Toad sit around all day. After a lot of nothing, Frog says "Toad, it is getting dark, we should be going to sleep now". Suddenly, frog realizes that was the last thing on his list, to sleep, and they both slip into unconsciousness. I think this ending really clears out they way Label thinks about always moving forward - sure, maybe they weren't on Toad's list, but there were many activities he and Frog could have partook in he skipped out on out of sheer stubbornness. Instead of trying to make the most out of his day, he wallowed in his own sadness over not achieving every goal he had, and let a whole afternoon slip by.

• to summarize, Frog and Toad are friends. They are friends and they enjoy each other's company. They prefer to have a cup of tea instead of building a bigger house, and they'd never call each other on the telephone, if they want to talk to each other, they simply walk over to their friend's house. I personally have started to pick up some of their habits - I now drink my morning Tea or coffe without any distractions, I spend more time outside, and I try to not get hung up on every little detail. As a perfectionist this is a... Hard task, at the least, but it's worth it. I have calmed down. I have become more at peace with less.

Thank you for reading - Stay yourself, stay curious.

#frog and toad #arnold lobel #literature #lit #light academia #dark academia #literature analysis #literature aesthetics #literature academia #literature and art #1970s #children's books #books #book analysis #books and reading #vintage books

[eternal-echoes]

Today we are celebrating the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary to her kinswoman Elizabeth. I would like to meditate with you on this mystery which shows how Mary faced her life’s journey with great realism, humanity and practicality.

Three words sum up Mary’s attitude: listening, decision, action. They are words that point out a way for us too as we face what the Lord asks of us in life. Listening, decision, action.

1. Listening. What gave rise to Mary’s act of going to visit her relative Elizabeth? A word of God’s Angel. “Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son…” (Lk 1:36). Mary knew how to listen to God. Be careful: it was not merely “hearing”, a superficial word, but it was “listening”, that consists of attention, acceptance and availability to God. It was not in the distracted way with which we sometimes face the Lord or others: we hear their words, but we do not really listen. Mary is attentive to God. She listens to God.

However Mary also listens to the events, that is, she interprets the events of her life, she is attentive to reality itself and does not stop on the surface but goes to the depths to grasp its meaning. Her kinswoman Elizabeth, who is already elderly, is expecting a child: this is the event. But Mary is attentive to the meaning. She can understand it: “with God nothing will be impossible” (Lk 1:37).

This is also true in our life: listening to God who speaks to us, and listening also to daily reality, paying attention to people, to events, because the Lord is at the door of our life and knocks in many ways, he puts signs on our path; he gives us the ability to see them. Mary is the mother of listening, of attentive listening to God and of equally attentive listening to the events of life.

2. The second word: decision. Mary did not live “with haste”, with breathlessness, but, as St Luke emphasizes, she “kept all these things, pondering them in her heart” (cf. Lk 2:19, 51). Moreover, at the crucial moment of the Angel’s Annunciation, she also asks: “how shall this be?” (Lk 1:34). Yet she does not stop at the moment of reflection either. She goes a step further: she decides. She does not live in haste but “goes with haste” only when necessary. Mary does not let herself be dragged along by events; she does not avoid the effort of taking a decision. And this happens both in the fundamental decision that was to change her life: “I am the handmaid of the Lord…” (cf. Lk 1:38), and in her daily decisions, routine but also full of meaning. The episode of the wedding of Cana springs to my mind (cf. Jn 2:1-11): here too one sees the realism, humanity and practicality of Mary who is attentive to events, to problems.

She sees and understands the difficulty of the young married couple at whose wedding feast the wine runs out; she thinks about it, she knows that Jesus can do something and decides to address her Son so that he may intervene: “they have no more wine” (cf. v. 3). She decides.

It is difficult in life to take decisions. We often tend to put them off, to let others decide instead, we frequently prefer to let ourselves be dragged along by events, to follow the current fashion; at times we know what we ought to do, but we do not have the courage to do it or it seems to us too difficult because it means swimming against the tide. In the Annunciation, in the Visitation and at the wedding of Cana Mary goes against the tide. Mary goes against the tide; she listens to God, she reflects and seeks to understand reality and decides to entrust herself totally to God. Although she is with child, she decides to visit her elderly relative and she decides to entrust herself to her Son with insistence so as to preserve the joy of the wedding feast.

3. The third word: action. Mary set out on a journey and “went with haste” (cf. Lk 1:39). Last Sunday I underlined Mary’s way of acting: in spite of the difficulties, the criticism she would have met with because of her decision to go, nothing could stop her. And here she leaves “with haste”. In prayer, before God who speaks, in thinking and meditating on the facts of her life, Mary is not in a hurry, she does not let herself be swept away by the moment, she does not let herself be dragged along by events. However, when she has clearly understood what God is asking of her, what she has to do, she does not loiter, she does not delay, but goes “with haste”. St Ambrose commented: “There is nothing slow about the Holy Spirit” (Expos. Evang. sec. Lucam, II, 19: PL 15,1560). Mary’s action was a consequence of her obedience to the Angel’s words but was combined with charity: she went to Elizabeth to make herself useful; and in going out of her home, of herself, for love, she takes with her the most precious thing she has: Jesus. She takes her Son.

We likewise sometimes stop at listening, at thinking about what we must do, we may even be clear about the decision we have to make, but we do not move on to action. And above all we do not put ourselves at stake by moving towards others “with haste” so as to bring them our help, our understanding, our love; to bring them, like Mary, the most precious thing we have received, Jesus and his Gospel, with words and above all with the tangible witness of what we do.

Mary, the woman of listening, of decision, of action.

- Pope Francis, 31 May 2013

#Catholic #Christianity #quotes #Pope Francis #Blessed Virgin Mother Mary

[z3norear]

Monthly Message from Our Loving Mother to All of Her Children

June 13, 2006

“My little creatures, your Loving Mother feels so much delight when you pray these Mysteries of the Rosary with so much pleasure, where your Mother glorifies the Well Beloved.

“The servant of the Lord thinks that she can direct the Messages of the Virgin when she says that she will receive these Messages by locution. I have played a trick of love on her so she will receive them without noticing that We are truly here. She [Rosa] thinks, ‘She will speak to me, I will hear, I will understand what is said,’ but she [Rosa] doesn’t know that the Celestial Father is the One Who directs her soul, her mind and her vocal cords so that she doesn't know what's happening and so it is only your Mother Who speaks to you today and gives you the Message that I want you to hear today.

“Your mother tells you through the Well Beloved that in Baptism, He gives you the Divine Spirit of God so you will be full of that Spirit, which guards against any danger that threatens you when you walk in the Light.

“Today, God says that you must walk in the Light during these critical days for humanity, you must disguise yourselves with the Armor of the Holy Spirit so you can protect yourselves from all the traps of the enemy, who is also loose in humanity, trying to take the souls of the creatures that God has chosen to walk at all the apparitions of Mary. Your Mother visits you frequently in all parts of the world to bring you His love, that agape of love that He gave you as a gift on the Cross.

“He gave it as an agape, as a gift, to each of you in your hearts, like when the Holy Spirit flowed over the apostles. He also gave them the power of imposing their hands so that men will receive the blessings and healings that I bring to you.

“They [the priests] hide their hands in the pockets of their cassocks instead of imposing them on the sick in the hospitals or in the houses. Wherever there is an apparition there must be a priest, a pastor to guide the flock and to impose his hands, but because they are not there, I have to choose little creatures who don’t know anything so they can do what the priests are supposed to do.

“Today, the Church, My children, is doing the same things that it did years ago: they are persecuting the true priests that I left to guide the flock, because they are Oblates of your Loving Mother. They persecute those who give the Messages of love, who impose their hands, who have the stigmata, the real stigmata that burst out of the body, and the invisible stigmata that are from your Loving Mother, those that are not seen, but which hurt the same as those that are outside of the body. They hide those priests; they persecute them and mistreat them so they will not follow the true Path that Jesus left.

“Your Mother will continue to tell you in time and out of time that you must pray the Rosary and meditate on it. Meditate on each Mystery and live each moment of that Mystery so the Holy Spirit, as It is doing at this moment, will flow over each one of your homes and your families.

“Remember that while you walk in the Light, your Mother will continue with you in the world. But when man approaches the darkness, the great moment will come when Jesus will have to return to put all of His house in order – all of His sanctuaries and all of the churches that He left so you could take refuge in them, but instead they keep them closed all the time and only open them when they’re going to give the Gospels, which they have changed.

“Today I come very happy, although My Heart burns with sadness to see so many abused children who are exploited, violated, murdered and taken as hostages in all places to satisfy the bestial appetites of men who walk in the darkness, in drugs and in the vice of alcohol.

“Your Mother doesn’t suffer in Heaven; She suffers when She comes to earth and sees in the hearts of Her children how many of them come [to the apparition], some out of rebelliousness and others to investigate whether it is true or false. For those who come under these conditions, I tell you that you will receive what you came looking for.

“But I am happy. My Heart is bursting with happiness because the little creature had to leave like the apostles, to preach in another area, in another place where the Divine Spirit is truly felt. The glory of your Celestial Father was manifested in each of My little creatures whom she visited there. [ Rosa recently returned from visiting Ecuador .]

“My Heart is happy, even though it’s full of pain, because I planted love in the hearts of the people of the country that I visited and I returned with their hearts full of love towards the Virgin Mary, with love towards the Beloved, with love towards the Church and towards the true priests who truly fulfill the mystery of love in each Mass, in each Sacred Eucharist, but who also hurt My Heart, because there is a place where they also profane the Sacred Body of the Well Beloved. But when they sin out of ignorance, they don’t sin; when they know the truth and still sin, they sin seventy times more.

[It began to rain.] “Remember, don’t be afraid, sit quietly, be calm. When I finish giving you the Message, I will impose My Hands upon those who are very sick, and it will not be a blessing but an imposition, so they can awaken to the love of Jesus.

“Remember that great events are coming close to humanity. There will be many disasters; many lives will be taken away and lost. But the ones who are saved will be saved for the glory and honor of the Well Beloved. Don’t be afraid and pray for the victims of the entire world, for the hungry, for the miserable ones, for the orphans of war, for the kidnapped, both women and children, for peace, not only for peace in the world, but for peace in the homes of each human being and in each family.

[At this moment, a strong rain began to fall.] “The Holy Spirit will flow over each one of you. We will finish now. Enter the house, where I will impose My Hands upon the sick.

“In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

[lovecinnatwist]

How do you feel about omega Jason Todd/ alpha Dick Grayson? Maybe Dick didn’t know Jason was an omega until Jason got hit with some of Ivy’s pollen...

GasP Anon what a great idea! I adore JayDick-  Alpha!Dick and Omega!Jason is a bop even if I don’t write it often.

I hope you don’t chaotic mess which is pining!Dick!

Sexuality Crisis Adverted

Tags: Omegaverse, Heat/Mating Cycles, omega!Jason, alpha!Dick 

The moment the dust settles around them Jason knows that he’s fucked. The groan that creaks from his chest is heavy and tight. A side effect- he’s sure- from all the Goddamn pollen. Why couldn’t Poison Ivy chill with it already? It hasn’t worked before and it isn’t going to work now. There’s a series of loud beeps in his ear, signalling the filtration system in his helmet shutting down. Not that it matters when the equipment hasn’t done its job in the first place. He undoes the latches with quick fingers all while Ivy heads out through the giant hole she’s made in the ceiling. 

Not like he’ll let that stop him. The cool air prickles against his face in a refreshing way. It feels wonderful against his quickly warming skin. He tosses his helmet to the side to deal with later. For now he’s got to get that bitch back in jail before she spreads more of the new strain about Gotham. 

He hunts her for what feels like hours. By the time he tracks her back to Robinson Park he’s low on ammo and his heat has finally begun to set in. The familiar cramps and aches make his joints squeak. It’s something he feels more than hears over the sound of whatever Ivy’s latest plan is. He shoots right through another blossom and more dust goes flying. Not that it matters. Even if his heat turns critical he knows exactly how much time he has and it’s more than enough to get her in Arkham. 

A flash of blue and black blurs in the background. His eyes can barely follow the movements between staying focused on Ivy. He dodges two of her attacks and fires. He nearly grazes her but a wall of vines take the hit. He curses and charges forward.

Sharp. It’s one of the benefits of heat. The starling clarity when your instincts are at a fine point does wonders for things like this. Well until the actual fever crashes down and you’re too sluggish and horny to do anything but sleep or get fucked. Jason doesn’t mind either, though with Roy and Kori off-world he’s sure he’s going to be doing more of the former this time around. 

Nightwing makes himself useful and the next time Jason shoots he hits his target. It’s only rubber bullets but her hiss of pain is satisfying. 

The two of them work seamlessly. Which is a feat in itself with the ugly filtration system Dick has on. He looks ridiculous and Jason makes sure to tell him that as soon as he gets a chance. The sound of alpha’s laughter follows him through the air as he performs an effortless flip out of the way. Jason can’t help the quirk of his lips and soon they are putting Ivy away together. 

Not bad for an impromptu team up.

Nightwing hands her off to the police while Jason lays on top of a nearby roof. He’s catching his breath as the fire within him cools a bit. The exercise made him tired but it's a good kind of ache. One that distracts him from the way his lower abdomen curls and unfurls repeatedly. Once he’s no longer struggling to catch his breath he starts thinking it’s time to head back home. 

Soft footfalls land behind him. He scoffs. 

“ What none of the pretty officers down there ask for an autograph? “

He’s teasing mostly but nothing but silence greets him. He pauses and cranes his neck awkwardly to catch the other man’s expression. The wonderment and awe there are foreign.

Dick opens his mouth to speak before closing it. He isn’t wearing that ugly mask anymore so now Jason can easily read his expression. It’s odd considering what a steel trap he usually is. Despite his body's protest he sits up and faces the alpha. 

“ You good? “

He can read the anxiousness in his body language. It’s helpful considering the fact that Dick is absolutely drenched in scent blockers. Jason usually is too but without hood and the impending heat- well he wouldn’t be surprised to be told he stinks. The idea of showering and curling up in his bed with a good book almost makes him purr. Dick says nothing again. He just stands there looking stupid and Jason- well Jason doesn’t really have time for it. 

His bones scream as he stands. The ache is setting in fast but he’ll be good to get home. He’s definitely traveled home in worse states and thanks to Dick he didn’t take too many hits. He stretches and twists, the soft pop in his lower back is gratifying. There’s a slight uneasiness in the air. The longer the silence goes on the more tension starts to form between them. Jason can’t be bothered with it so as casually as he can manage he starts shifting towards the edge of the roof. 

“ So- this has been fun but I gotta go. Need to shower this shit off before the fever sets in. Thanks for the assist. I’ll send my report so tell the old man he doesn’t need to bother- “

“ You’re an omega! “

Jason blinks. It’s probably the worst cut off he’s ever gotten. The lack of tact is new for Goldie and Jason for the life of him can’t shake off his discomfort. If it were another time he would laugh. The stupid way Dick is gawking his hilarious. The alpha smacks a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to keep from saying anything more.

Jason’s eyebrows fly up.

“ Uhhh yea? “

They don’t really talk about secondary genders. Not often or ever really. Sure technically Jason should have a bunch of pack jobs to do but since Bruce hasn’t formally asked him back he doesn’t bother. Cass is pretty good at nest building and caring for the others so there’s never been any need. 

If anything it’s been more of a relief. He’s always been pretty weird about his dynamic. Not because he thought it made him weaker or something. It’s more because the second anyone found out that all 6”2 and 215lbs of him is omega? Well they got this intense kind of look on their face. Kind of like they weren’t looking at a person anymore, more like a piece of meat.

Kinda like- Kinda like- how Dick is staring at... him... now.

The puzzle pieces click together all too slow. 

Dick removes  his hands like he can’t quite help it. His eyes wide in amazement and- huh is it the light or are his pupils dilated? The alpha starts to speak and the words start coming out in a rush.

“ I had no idea that you were an omega- I mean it makes sense- because you’re gorgeous and at first- at first I thought I was gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that- but like i’ve never been gay- like i’m into omegas always have been but then there was you and you just made me think all these things and feel all this new stuff and gosh I was so confused. Now everything makes sense though because now I’m not gay and you’re an omega and you smell good and fuck do you always smell like this? You smell amazing little wing. I hope our pups smell like you. It’s kinda sweet but spicy, like in a good way. Kinda like warm sheets out of the laundry and chai tea- I just wanna roll around in it and get it all over me- I know that’s kind of weird but like I’m a weird kind of alpha sometimes i’m sure it won’t really bother you too much through like I swear I’ll be a good mate and take good care of you and- God is it weird i’m taking so much when I should probably be taking you to nest? I should totally be taking you to nest. God I can’t believe i’m talking so much when you probably just wanna rest. Or well fuck? We could do that too I don’t mind you probably look so gorgeous all fucked and pupped up- I hope it sticks. I know I’m kind old to not have any pups yet but like I feel like I must have been waiting for you and now- “

Jason’s eyes have been growing widder by the minute. Dick’s mouth is still going and his heart is racing with every word. He’s practically babbling to himself. While Jason- Well Jason  is feeling a little frightened. He isn’t even sure how to stop the alpha either but then Dick is walking towards him taking about mating, sex and pups and well- well Jason has to put a stop to it there. 

He takes out his gun and shoots right past the alpha’s face. Dick had been so lost in his words he didn’t even notice Jason take the weapon out. Jesus just where is the alpha’s head at? Actually he knew where the alpha’s head’s at. It’s why he’s currently got his M1911 pistol between them.

Dick shuts up and Jason welcomes the silence with a silent prayer. Moments pass and when he sees the alpha doesn’t move, he lowers the gun a fraction.

He takes a deep breath. 

“ 1. What ever you’re talking about right now?  Isn’t happening. You’re saying a whole bunch I don’t get- but let me be clear. You are not getting anywhere near me, my nest or my vagina. “

Dick flushes at the word. He opens his mouth and there’s a quick ‘ but Jay’ on his lips. It’s kinda admirable but Jason doesn’t have the time. Heat fatigue is on him and the last thing he wants is Dick Graysosn trying to take care of him or- or doing whatever the hell he’s talking about. 

He fires another bullet this time close enough to graze the kevlar. 

“ 2. I don’t know how you apparently missed that i’m an omega but just because I am doesn’t mean we’re suddenly going to ride off into the sunset with me birthing barefoot however many pups you want. That isn’t happening this- “

He waves the gun back and forth between them. 

“ This isn’t happening. “

Dick looks determined and his mouth is in a tight little line. He opens his mouth to speak and Jason raises the gun again. The furrow of those perfect eyebrows is kind of adorable but mostly annoying. 

“ 3. If you even try to come within the radius of my den while i’m in heat i’m going to shoot you, Not in your leg, not in your arm, but right between your pretty pretty eyes. You got that? “

Jason prefers people to pale when he’s threatening them but instead the alpha lights up. 

“ You think my eyes are pretty? “

Jason groans. Alpha’s were such a pain. He never really took Dick to be like a typical one either. He kind of wants to put more thought to it but he can’t when his skin is starting to crawl and itch in a way that’s numbing. 

“ I think you’re pretty irritating, that's what I think. “

The alpha frowns and Jason takes a step back. 

“ Remember the rules Goldie or you might get yourself in trouble. “

He gets a solemn nod. Dick looks troubled as much as he looks confused. The alpha is standing there nodding to himself as if he’s gluing together an invisible puzzle. 

“ Yea- Yea that makes sense. “

Tension eases from Jason’s shoulders but then Dick starts talking again.

“ God I haven’t even courted you and here I am talking about pups and sex like a total knot head. I haven’t given you any gifts or even won any challenges- God talk about stupid. I’ll totally make it up to you Jason you’ll see I’m a good alpha I swear I just need a chance and then I’ll for sure convince you- “

Jason Todd is sure Dick’s lips are moving a mile per minute. There’s also a frantic quality to his movements that look- off but he’s in no shape to be the judge of anyone's state of mind. Maybe he had gotten dosed by something earlier in the night? 

Oh well- that’s a problem for the bats. Jason isn’t having any part of it. 

He hops off of the roof leaving Goldie talking to himself.

Getting back to his nest turns out to be easy which he’s grateful for because the moment he inches through the window is the moment he realizes how tired he is. He practically crawls into the shower. The only reason why he doesn’t skip it all together is because the idea of bringing dirt, grime and pollen into his nest sets his instincts on fire. He bathes thoroughly despite how sluggish and tired his movements are. After all, it's probably the only bath he’s going to be having over the next few days. Besides answering the delivery guy and bathroom breaks he doesn’t plan to do much else. 

Clean and cool he slinks his way to his bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower. He doesn’t have much of a nest going on but the half constructed walls from the other day are at least a base. He pads over to the closet and drags out the rest of his material. His body thrumming with fatigue and need. He knows from experience however that if he tries to sleep in a half done nest he’s just going to be fitful all night and have to do it anyway. 

Better to get it over now. 

He crafts everything together with slow, drowsy movements. One of the edges is a little lopsided but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s got a few things from Kori and a few things from Roy and as usual it all goes seamlessly with the rest of bedding that he kept around the house. He’s got a small pack but it’s his. The soft smell of milk and pup from Lian’s little yellow shirt makes him smile. It’s mute and a little dull but it does the trick. Especially when he keeps everything in the air tight containers Roy made him. 

Nest finished and body clean he crawls into the mess of blankets. It’s soft and soothing against his feverish skin. The contact calms some of the aching that’s been echoing in his bones. He sighs and melts, curling into his pillows as his eyes fall shut. It’s cozy and his and for now that’s enough. He passes out before he can have another thought. 

In the artificial heat, Jason sleeps like the dead. A good nest has always done wonders at keeping him pliant. Something he plans to reap all the benefits of as he takes some time off the streets. He rolls over and stretches, soft fabric wrapping around his ankles. He purrs and nuzzles deeper, a content thrum of safe, warm and happy running through his system. Heat sleep is always some of the most restful.

He basks in the warmth coming from the window, ready to roll over and go back to dreamland. At least he would be if some ass hole didn’t decide to start doing home renovations. 

The pounding sound is annoying. Almost like someone has decided to build an entire Goddamn shelf at whatever time of the afternoon it is. He hisses and buries his head under his pillow. It helps a little until he realizes that what he’s hearing is knocking and it’s coming from his front doors. He groans.

Maybe if he doesn’t answer the person will give up?

They do not give up. 

Jason drags himself out of his nest fully ready to shoot the person on the other side of the door. No one knows about his apartment. He’s always made sure not to give the bats the slightest idea where it is. After all they were too noisy and the idea of any of them being able to show up whenever they wanted gave him anxiety.

He wipes his face and it does nothing to wake him up. When he shouts out a gruff I'm coming the knocking stops. He groans his legs like led as he drags himself to the door. It only takes one peek through the spy hole to see who it is. 

His head falls back and he curses the day the universe decided to tredge his sorry ass back to life. 

“ A bullet between the eyes Goldie. “

He means it to sound more rough and threatening. For the most part though he just sounds tired. He’s gotten enough sleep of course but the demanding furnace of heat is only just starting to burn through his energy reserves. Something about the bodies need to redirect all energy toward reproduction or some shit. Jason always assumed its alpha propaganda but you know what? He welcomes the break because sometimes the only care he gets is from himself. 

“ I brought breakfast? “

Jason winces at the awkward tone of voice. He doesn’t move to open the door and Dick stays quiet for a tense moment.

“ I wanted to apologize for last night and figured maybe we could talk? I got your favourite. Baleadas from that place you like. Add Avocado and Bacon. “

The omega curses. At the mention of food his mouth immediately starts to salivate. With how quickly his heat came on he hadn’t really gotten a chance to prepare. Usually he likes to prep some meals and in the interim order take out. He has to admit that Dick knows him pretty well if the alpha is showing up with food. 

On one hand letting a viable alpha into his home is probably a bad idea. On the other hand he could most definitely take Dick if it came down to it. Decision made he reluctantly starts to disarm the security system. 

“ You try some shit- “

Dick’s worn face appears, take out held up like a peace offering. 

“ And between the eyes I know. “

Jason fixes him with a look and when the alpha doesn’t move he steps to the side to let him in. They head to his little kitchen after Jason shuts the door. The apartment is small enough that they didn’t even go far. He glares at the alphas shoes and Dick is quick to take them off. While he does Jason helps himself to the bags. 

When Dick had said breakfast he had been modest. There are at least three bags. Some with fresh fruits, some with expensive bougie chocolates you can only get up town, Baliedas of course, fresh made guava juice, heat pads, electrolyte drinks and a variety of cramp medicine. He rolls his eyes and digs through a little box that Dick pushes onto the table as he fidgets next to an open chair. 

Jason raises an eyebrow before grabbing the box and flipping it open. A happy trill leaves his lips before he can stop it. He pulls out a semita the smell of sweetness and cinnamon filling the kitchen. Roughly pulling out a chair he takes a seat, his mouth watering before he even takes a bite. When he does he moans happy and light as flaky pastry melts on his tongue. 

God had to be from Aliana’s. Shit was perfect. 

He scarves down one quickly, licking his fingers before reaching into the other bag to pull out a warm balieda in aluminum foil. The food is so good he completely forgets Dick is even there. For the most part his mute alpha scent is blocked away which makes it easy to ignore him. Well except for the soft smiles and what the man must think are sneaky looks thrown his way. 

He gets half way through his second semeta when he finally looks at the alpha who is sitting in the furthest possible chair. 

“ So- we gonna talk about last night? “

Dick has the decency to flush. His color darkens in an interesting way. Jason doesn’t ever think he’s ever seen him like that before. He chews slowly and the alpha groans covering his face in his hands. 

“ Was testing a serum with Alfred before we got the call about Ivy. It’s a new formula and didn’t seem to be working, didn’t kick in until we were half way done. “

Jason makes an understanding noise. It’s a good thing they got things done quickly but still Dick probably shouldn’t have been out compromised like that. He takes a straw and pops it into one of the juices. At the first sip his entire body flutters with alertness. There’s just something about sugar during his heat that could raise him from the dead. 

“ What the hell were you doing out with that stuff in your system? What if you got caught or something. “

The way Dick looks down and his blush travels to his ears is very telling. Suddenly the words from last night return to him. 

‘ at first I thought I was gay ‘

He blinks. Oh my God. Dick actually had a thing for him. Even when he for some unexplainable reason thought he had been an alpha. A part of him is actually flattered that the bone head would jump into the fray to give Jason back up. Not that he needed it but still the gesture had been nice. 

Now here he is, at Jason’s apartment, bringing him breakfast and things to help him with his heat. The scent of insecurity leaks through what must be industrial scent blockers because Jason can barely get a whiff of anything else. He hums low in his throat and blue eyes flicker up to his. Jason tries to read what he see’s there but Dick’s gaze drop down again. 

“ Thought you could use the help. “

‘ More like you wanted an excuse to see me ��� Jason thinks.

He leaves the alpha to stew instead tucking away the new information he has. Now that he’s full and rested he can actually think a bit clearly. Dick isn’t a bad looking alpha. His skin is a gorgeous gold color that blurs the line between ethnicities. The contrast of his vivid blue eyes almost makes him look like they are glowing. His teeth are straight and he’s got a great smile with plump lips that will probably be nice to kiss-

Jason’s also seen enough of Dick coming in and out of the showers to know how crazy the alpha’s body is. All hard lines with battle scars and marks that make his inner omega sing. Something dark and dangerous wants to push and see how his marks would look amongst the collection. He sips his juice in silence, mulling over the possibility. 

Warmth pools in his stomach, waking up the first tendrils of arousal for his heat. Dick’s eyes look up and he swears he can see the alpha’s nostrils flare. He smirks and then laughs when Dick looks mortified to have been caught blatantly scenting him. 

“ Well this has been nice. Thanks for breakfast Dickie but you should probably get going before my fever flares up. “

When the man stands Jason’s eyes trail down his figure. The alpha jumps under his attention, skittish and shy. 

Not bad, not bad at all. The hunter in him purrs. 

“ Yea- sure totally glad I could help. I’ll just be going. “

The stuttering of his words is cute. Unlike the night before when Dick had basically been vomiting words, now he’s shut like a clam. The difference is endearing. Jason stands and Dick stumbles back. 

“ I uh… hope your heat goes well. If you need help, just call and i’ll do my best to get here. “

Jason fixes him with a look and the expression of sheer horror that crosses the alpha’s face is worth the drama. 

“ Not like that- just like food or whatever? Like if you have cravings or something. “

Dick stumbles over his words but the recovery is smooth. Jason watches Dick putting on his shoes. He heads back over to the plastic bag on the table.

“ Uh huh. “ 

He makes a show of stealing one of the wrapped candies and twisting it out of the foil. Dick’s eyes stare and his fingers. The blue follows, follows, follows until he brings it to his lips. Jason grins as he sinks his teeth in. 

The helpless way the alpha swallows him gives him a thrill.

“ Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. “

Because now that he’s looking- what an it is.

Dick gives him a terse nod before turning and twisting the knob. He tilts his head as the alpha leaves. When the door click shuts he gives a sound of appraisal.

Yea, Jason wouldn’t mind hittin that. 

After the impromptu visit he starts scheming. 

First, he finds out the ingredients of the serum. It turns out to be a pesky little thing that blurs the line between a person and their instincts. An attempt to make their truth serum recipe stronger. Some shady shit Bruce probably shouldn’t even be dabbling in. But then again it seems like it's okay for the line to blur as long as no one dies. 

He scoffs, tossing his tablet down. 

Focus- no wasting his heat thinking about Bruce. Not when Dick is clearly a better subject matter. He purrs low as warmth pools in his belly.  Reading the report made one thing clear. As frantic as the alpha had been, he had also been genuine. 

Luckily Jason doesn’t even have to do much to get the man to visit again.

His heat fucking drags.

Sure he’s usually quite long but this- this is just too much. Enough that Dick goes out of his way to drop food outside and leave it for him to find. The first time it’s a surprise but by the third- well Jason is opening the door before the alpha can run away.

He looks decadent in his Richard Wayne civies, smelling like expensive cologne and wearing something soft. The dark blue of the scarf brings out the lightness in Dick’s eyes. While the dark grey sweater hugs the man’s muscles in all the right ways. It’s nice to see all of his face too. The way the alpha’s features stand out in the plain hallway is almost overwhelming. Or at least it would be if Jason hasn’t been spending the last 5 days obsessing over him.

He decides to press his luck. Technically he could get away with at least this much, he is in heat after all. He smiles as he accepts the bags, making sure to brush against Dick enough to scent him. The quick little intake the alpha does is precious. It’s subtle of course but with how Jason’s heat stink is practically visible in the air Dick looks like he’s been smite. 

For seven entire minutes the man is stun stationary at the front entrance. It’s almost comical how long it takes him to recover. Jason’s already eaten an entire carton of nasi goreng and an egg roll.

Dick excuses himself under the guise of being late, his cheeks pink. The alpha nearly goes head first into the door frame in his embarrassment. Jason has to bite back his laugh. He busies himself with licking sweet and sour sauce off of his lips as the man retreats. The thought of ‘how cute’ doesn’t leave even when the food is done. 

It shouldn’t be this easy to fall for him. The clumsy way Dick goes about things is so different than anything he’s ever had before. Bless his sweet shy heart but the alpha is anything but assertive. 

In fact it reminds Jason of a romcom. When the male lead is obviously in love with the protagonist and everyone can see it except for him. It sort of feels like that. Though the more Dick tries to cover his tracks the more Jason finds neon signs of tender affection and desire. 

It’s courtship. 

He doesn’t know if Dick realizes it yet, but Jason’s sure as hell accepting it. The thickly drawn line he put down in the beginning is starting to edge away. Every little gift, every text message, every fleeting glance is chipping away at it until it disappears.

When leaves his curtains open a sliver at night, he can catch the alpha guarding his apartment. 

Now logically it could be seen as platonic. After all, Pack mates were meant to watch each other’s backs- especially during heat and rut. Jason hasn’t been there for any of his pack members' cycles, and in turn he never takes it personal when they haven’t been there for him. 

Now that he has it though he never wants it to stop. 

The next day when Dick stops by, Jason spills something on the alpha’s shirt. It’s an excuse. Something that a league alpha would see through. Dick however is absolutely oblivious and Jason takes great pride in making Dick leave in one of his. Stinking like possessive dangerous omega and in exchange he adds the alpha’s shirt to his nest. He also adjusts it to make it big enough for two.

It smells amazing and he sleeps with his face in it. 

Jason enjoys every moment of his heat. He soaks up the attention the alpha lavishes on him earnestly. On day 10 he actually finds himself saying a little thank you to Ivy. His heat isn’t nearly as strong as a usual one but the symptoms are still obvious enough that he has to stay shut in. It gives him more time to iron out his plan of action. Well it’s less of a plan and more like throwing himself at the alpha and taking and having until he’s full.

He purrs thick and heavily. The rumble is so dark it’s almost like a growl but Dick looks completely unbothered by it. He doesn’t mind most things Jason has been learning. The alpha doesn’t shame him for being taller and wider than him. He doesn’t make Jason feel like less than himself, or less than others in his caste. He’s just nice, oblivious but nice and Jason- well Jason has never had that before.

He licks cannoli filling off of his fingers while sneaking a peek at Dick. 

Jason has to hand it to him. He’s doing a pretty good job and pretending to pay attention to the movie. There’s no way he is though. Not with how Jason’s apartment smells like safe, happy, wanting omega. Not with the way Jason is making sure Dick knows just how comfortable he is with him in the room. 

Dick’s scent is mute because of the blockers but that doesn’t mean much against enhanced senses. He can still smell the brief wisp of indulgent pride at providing for him.

The delicious italian food is spread out of the low coffee table like a feast.

One thing Jason could say for certain, the alpha knew how to eat. The baliada’s had only been the beginning. Dick’s brought him some of the best goddamn food he’s had in a while. There’s been slow cooked ribs with all the fixings. A 4 cheese pizza with truffle oil, spinach and grilled chicken with fresh gelato for dessert. Then of course the handmade pasta they’re having now. 

Absolutely perfect and only a fraction of how the alpha has been spoiling him. 

He even made it a point of giving Dick a few challenges of his own. Simple things that he slowly increased the difficulty on. The first day he had asked for something elementary. A blue blanket. Nothing too hard because he just wanted to see if the alpha would. Then- 2 hours later he had the biggest, softed blue blanket that he’s ever seen. Adding it to his nest had been soothing to his instincts. 

Next he asked Dick to take over a case of his. Nothing with a time limit of course but the alpha took it anyway. He used all the information Jason gave up and two days later the bastards dealing to the middle school up north were in black gate where they belonged. That alone had been good- but Jason… Well Jason wanted the best. 

That’s what led him to this little idea. He’s got the most recently released rom com on screen, Dick’s soft blanket over them while he lounges on the couch with nothing but a thin white t-shirt and a pair of sweats that fit him in all the right way. Before Dick had come over he made sure that the place had been absolutely coated in his scent. Which had been kind of easy with how much his heat tends to stink up places. 

He leans against the alpha and feels him stiffen up against him. It’s minute but the man quickly relaxes when Jason purrs soft and sweet. A gentle sound made to relax alpha’s whether they wanted to or not. He shifts and feels Dick’s eyes drop to his chest. He feels hot knowing that the alpha can clearly see his nipples through his top. 

The movie drags on and Jason enjoys torturing the alpha. 

It’s dainty touches at first, just to test the man’s reactions. Simple and frequent enough that he’s sure the alpha knows he’s doing it on purpose. 

So what if he wants to cop a feel off of the alpha who’s courting him? It’s his right. 

He curls into Dick’s side, surprised how his body fits in the curve of the alpha’s arms. His breast presses against a bicep. A purr starts to build in his throat.

“ Movie’s good. “ He lies. 

The alpha grunts the affirmative. It’s obvious that he isn’t able to pay attention. To be truthful Jason would be insulted if he could. After all he’s purposely pumping out a perfume of sweet, wanting, waiting omega that must have Dick dizzy. 

Still the man doesn’t push and Jason’s heart pounds in his chest. 

They reach the end of the movie and Dick seems too quick to get off the couch. Jason stretches and lays down his entire body relaxed and warm. The last bits of heat are whispering out of him which he’s glad for. It means he has more energy and more than that- that he can’t be accused of being compromised. 

He hums as Dick straightens up the leftovers on the coffee table. He’s so diligently good that Jason just needs to reward him. He bites his bottom lip peering up at the alpha through his lashes. Slow and purposely he runs a clothed sock up the inseam of Dick’s black slacks. The way the alpha tenses and stumbles is equal part adorable as arousing. 

Blown blue eyes look at him and Jason’s purr grows. 

“ C’mere. “

Jason is pretty sure he didn’t let any sort of command slip into his voice. It had been nothing but a soft honest call but the way Dick just- lets everything fall to get back to him did things to his ego. Dick stares at him helplessly. Eyes struggling to stay on his face, but darting down to his lips, chest, thighs then back up in rapid succession. Jason sinks into the couch, the soft rumble in his chest merging with the credits on screen. 

“ ‘m feeling a little restless. Would you scent me before you go? “

Jason tilts his neck up, demour and willing. When he cuts his eyes at the alpha he’s sure there’s mirth in his gaze. He can’t help it however. Not when Dick looks like he’s about to short circuit. Almost like the only gravity in the room is Jason and if the alpha takes his gaze away from him for a moment he’ll be floating towards the sun. 

Huh, his heat must be cooling off if he could think up that metaphor. 

The alpha swallows not moving. Jason watches his hestitance gleefully. He knows what he looks like. The hard lines of his body posing in an open and friendly gesture. A wanting gesture that would have a weaker alpha already on their knees. 

Jason smirks, He can practically hear Dick’s heartbeat pounding in his chest. 

“ Sure Little Wing, yea I can do that. “

He can but he still hasn't moved. Jason would snort but he doesn’t want to give away the game too quickly. He wants Dick to move on his own. To see how the alpha will genuinely act if Jason leaves himself open and vulnerable. 

Instead of his neck, Dick lifts his wrist and uses it to drag up and down the smooth expanse of Jason’s throat. Jason’s purr crescendos to the point where it almost hurts. His vocal cords vibrate as his chosen alpha rubs his scent all over him. It’s mute because of the patches- but still undeniably Dick. 

Jason’s eyelashes droop. His entire body is warm content and happy. Dick stares and him and the omega stares back. 

“ I should probably go…. The movie was good, thanks for suggesting it. “

Jason didn’t watch a goddamn thing and he’s pretty sure Dick didn’t either. 

“ Anytime Goldie. “

He means it. The two of them bask in silence, the title screen flicking back up as the credits roll to a close. No one says anything so Jason is content to leave things where they are. He has all the answers he needs. 

“ See you around. “ 

Sooner rather than later? He wants to quip. He holds his tongue however. Patience. Tip your intentions too early and your prey will get away. League lessons ring true even now. He feigned nonchalance while nodding at the alpha.

“ Sounds good. Bring Sushi next time “

There’s nothing left for Dick to prove. Jason has already made his decision.

The alpha smiles soft and sweet. His entire face lightening up at the promise of another meeting.

“ Sure Little Wing. “

Jason grins. 

How clueless and naive. The poor thing had no clue that next time actually meant eternity. 

#Ficlets #Prompts #Requests #JayDick #Omegaverse #omega!jason #Alpha!Dick #Dick thinks Jason is Pretty #Jason wants to tap that

[cerise-angel]

Rumor - Na Jaemin

College!Jaemin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, a little smutty, Coffee, Shower stuff, Bad roommates, cliché as hell.

Word count: 2060

Hi everyone!! Believe it or not I've been wanting to post this ever since Hot Souce, and finally I'm doing it! Let me know what you guys think, and yes I'm currently in NCT Dream hell.

Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

Constructive criticism is always apprecciated!

Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors, english is not my first language.

Thanks for reading!

The photo is from his IG, the editing is mine.

--------------------------------------------

Working on Saturday mornings really did piss you off. First you had to wake up at 7am, walk for about 10 quarters, change into that stupid skirt and apron and deal with your not so happy boss. You held back the urge of rolling your eyes when said boss came to talk to you.

“Table 04 is full. Is the kids from your college I guess?”

You looked into Table 04 direction. Oh God.

“Can’t someone else go? I’m kind of busy with the dishes.”

It wasn’t a lie. You really were cleaning the dishes. Ok you were almost finishing but there were other employees who were free and could have already went to Table 04. Your boss gave you a bored look.

“They asked for you.”

Shit. Feeling anxious you finished the dishes, trying to take the longest time. It took quite probably only 03 minutes though. You dried your hands on a cloth and tried to control your nerves before leaving the kitchen and heading for Table 04.

“Welcome to Cactus Coffee. How can I help you today?”

You voice sounded anxious and meek, and you hated yourself for that. You looked to the floor not being able to look at him in the yes.

“Good morning, Y/N. You should really wear skirts more often.”

You looked at Donghyuck and gave him a sarcastic smile. You really hated these uniforms, and you had asked multiple times to wear pants instead of the skirt, but your boss wouldn’t let you, because “it was against the franchise rules”.

“Yeah, you should too Donghyuck. Ready to order?”

He laughed at you, clearly enjoying.

“I want a medium latte.”

“Cool. You guys?”

Slowly all the boys ordered. A milky green tea for Mark, a cinnamon cappuccino for Jisung, a vanilla cold brew for Renjun, a strawberry Frappuccino for Jeno and a flat white for Chenle. You were almost leaving, relieved that he hadn’t talk to you, when Na Jaemin, oh so softly, tugged at your skirt.

“I want a white mocha please.”

You felt all the boys’ eyes glue to your face, waiting for your reaction. Your cheeks started to warm up and your palms and armpits to get sweaty. Jesus Christ. You answered back.

“Cool. Please don’t touch the skirt.”

You left as fast as you could, hearing Chenle’s and Donghyuck’s laugh at your antics.

Is not like you had a major crush on Jaemin. Is not that you hated him, or that you two had an unresolved romance. It would be a lot easier if you two already had a romance to start with. The thing is, you two had someone in common. Your roommate who was hooking up with Jaemin.

She never really tried to have a friendship or just a nice convivence with you. Since you moved to her apartment, she basically only talks to you to ask about the bills, or to ask you for help in Math. You cared a lot about it in the beginning, having tried multiple times to show her that you were open to her, initiating talks, baking cakes and all. She never really seemed to give a shit, so you stopped trying.

Things got even weirder between you two, on Thursday, while you were having a shower, Jaemin, thinking you were your roommate walked in. And you two had a shower together. And your roommate arrived and basically saw Jaemin drying your hair in the living room. And then she accused you of being a whore and three minutes later the whole campus thought that you had fucked Na Jaemin on the shower.

“Shit.” You muttered when you realized that you had done Jisung’s order wrong, for the third time. Thinking about what happened and trying to make a coffee clearly didn’t match. One of your coworkers, Ami, who knew about the whole story, came, like an angel, to help you.

“Y/n, I got this. You can stay at the dishes today if you want?”

You nodded smiling. Ami was really great at reading people, and since the whole bath situation she was helping you every time Jaemin, or one of his friends, or even your roommate came to the coffee. You stared at the clock in the wall, there were only more 2 hours to go. You could handle that.

-----------------------------------

When the clock hit 1 pm you were free. Staying at the dishes meant closing the coffee, so you took your time while checking the cashier, taking the trash, turning the lights off and making sure no one had puked in the bathroom. Slowly you took off your skirt, putting on some jeans and a sweatshirt. You sighed.

You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, to see your roommate who would so nicely, call you a bitch and leave. You two weren’t close before that, but this was even worse. You also didn’t want to stay at the park, since the last time it happened Jaemin appeared out of nowhere and you had to leave, simply because you didn’t know what to do.

Finally closing the door of the coffee you cursed at him.

“Fuck you Na Jaemin.”

Different of what your roommate thought, and what the whole campus thought, you and Jaemin did nothing but to actually share a shower. You kept thinking why in the world you didn’t kick him out when he got in. But he looked so soft and nice and he said you smelled like strawberries and washed your hair and you really couldn’t argue. It was a very nice shower.

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a small shriek when you heard his voice. Your brain was screaming “GO HOME” and that’s what you planned on doing. Except he tugged at your blouse, and you froze on place.

“I really should not have invaded your shower that day. And I should also have told your roommate that we didn’t do it, and the whole campus.”

It was true. The minute your roommate called you a whore, Jaemin stood up and left, leaving you alone with her screaming at you. You felt angry and ashamed.

“Yeah, you should have.”

Jaemin sighed.

“Can you please look at me? I’ve seen you naked already there nothing to be embarrassed of.”

That’s when you snap. You turn to him, anger filling your lungs and veins before you speak.

“I can’t look at you and there’s nothing to do with me being embarrassed or whatever. You literally went to my apartment every week to hookup with her, and then out of nowhere, for your fucking mistake of not asking who was in the shower, she hates me, to the point she told to fucking move out! Plus, the whole fucking college thinks I’ve slept with you and did that like a bad person, since you were sleeping with my roommate. I’m not embarrassed I’m fucking mad.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened after your sudden rant. The moment his mouth opened the talk back, started to rain. You didn’t move tho. He was complaining you didn’t look at him, well now you were. And now he was the one looking at his feet, embarrassed.

“I didn’t hook up with her every week. It was one time, and then in the morning you helped me to use the airfryer and, God, that’s literally the only reason I kept going back. I wanted to see you. I wanted to touch you. It was heaven to me every time you were around, and she wasn’t there to try to kiss me. I gave you all the possible hints, how the fuck can you be so oblivious?”

Now your eyes widened. You had notice that lots of times Jaemin would come before her. You two would watch some TV and eat nuggets. Sometimes he would flirt with you, or softly touch your knee, or play with your hair. But that was just the way he was to everyone, wasn’t? You looked at him, and now he was pissed. You looked at your shoes, rain starting to pour heavily now.

“Fuck, lets go to my place.”

“What? No. You go to your place, and I go to mine, goodbye.”

Jaemin grunted, pulling you closer to him.

“Your place is 10 blocks away, mine is 2. Stop being so fucking stubborn before you get hypothermia.”

You held back your words. He had a point.

------------------------------

His place was quite neat. You took your soaked shoes and he gave you a pair of slippers to walk around. Jeno was in the living room. You blushed.

“Jeno, I’m going to shower. Y/N too.”

Jeno only nodded, too fixated on the videogame to even listen properly.

You followed Jemin into his room, and after you close the door you spat.

“Im not going to shower with you again Na Jaemin. Don’t even think…”

He kissed you. His warm, soft lips were begging for your response, and after some moments you gave in. He sighed relieved while his hands descended to your waist pulling you closer against him. God if he could merge your body with his he would.

You put your hands on his chest, trying to get some distance so you could think, process and perhaps talk, but Jaemin wasn’t interested in that, pushing you against the door, pressing his warm body against yours.

You couldn’t resist anymore, so you finally put your hands on his shoulders, softly bringing them to his neck, then tugging at his hair. Jaemin moaned, pleased.

“Shower.”

You said softly, when his lips left yours. He nodded, hugging you and walking sloppily to the bathroom. His bathroom smelled like fennel soap, which you weren’t expecting. Jaemin slowed down, turning the shower on, and helping you get undressed. You felt your whole body getting hotter when his hands traced your spine.

“I’ve seen you like this before but is such a blessing that I can see it again.”

You had sure your legs had turned into slime at the very moment, but somehow you managed to keep yourself straight. Jaemin smiled at your flushed face and gestured towards the shower.

“Let me turn it on, it has a little secret to get warm water.”

You giggled. Jaemin turned on the shower and pulled you closer to him, below the hot water. His skin was a little cold, and in a bold moment, you decided to hug his back. You pressed yourself against his skin, feeling a little feverish. Jaemin felt goosebumps run through his body, and turned in your embrace, facing your glossy and now wet face.

Jaemin kissed you, softly and slowly, as if he were testing the waters. You put your hands on his neck, pulling him even closer, and he did the same, wrapping his arms on your waist. You started to feel dazed, the heat of the water and Jaemin working on you. His hands were everywhere, on your breasts, your waist, your back, your ass. Slowly, you started to do the same, touching him, gluing your lips to his neck, moaning his name.

You touched his member earning a low grunt in response. His hands went back to your ass, rubbing and squeezing it.

“Do you want to fuck me in the shower?”

Jaemin smiled, nodding eagerly. His hands, oh so slowly, made their way to your thighs, picking you up. You two were so close to actually doing it, then he slipped.

“Oh shit, shit.”

Jaemin dropped you, in a desperate attempt to not fall on his ass. You started laughing, and helped him to steady in place, admiring how adorable he looked frustrated, with his ears becoming hot red, and his face in a shy smile. He hugged you close, laughing with you.

“I think, we could just have a shower first.”

You agreed still smiling.

--------------------------------

“GODDAMN IT JAEMIN!!”

You felt Jaemin smiling before even looking at him. So, after you failed attempt of shower sex, you both had a slow hot shower. And the hot water kinda ran out. Jeno had finally discovered, which made him curse Jaemin.

“Should we do something about it?”

You asked turning on the bed to face him.

“Not really on my plans.”

“What is on your plans?”

Jaemin gave you the most satisfied look, his hands finding the way to the hem of your newly put on shirt.

“You.”

----

Thanks for reading!!

#nct #nct dream #nct jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin x y/n #jaemin x you #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream college au #nct dream fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin boyfriend #nct fanfic

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Stop Running (Cordelia x Wilhemina x fem!reader x Ally)

idk what we got here, but its reeeeeeally long and made with google translate..so excuse me

summary: you have to meet the son of your girlfriends and he reminds you of ur dead brother and all the memories of ur childhood come back

warnings: suicide, depression, scars, child abuse..

Being in a relationship with 3 women at the same time was probably something like the jackpot. Before, you didn't even think you'd get one and now you had 3.

You still remembered the night these three women came into the club where you worked as a waitress. In the beginning it was just little things like saying 'please' and 'thank you' when you brought them something. Most of the people who came to this club got drunk too quickly to be polite.

Then they started asking you questions.

“What's your name?”

“How is it possible that a pretty girl like you works in a club like this?” (a question that made you blush)

“How can we get your attention?”

And at one point you gave a shit about your work and sat with them for the rest of the night. And at dawn they took you to their bed with them. You were the only sober person that evening, but the next morning none of the 3 were surprised or angry about your presence.

It had developed into a frequency, every Friday night they'd come to the club only to leave with you at the end of the night. And at some point it became more.

The trio had piqued your interest since the first night, which was probably because there were three of them and later you wanted to know everything about them. You found out that Ally was widowed with a son, that Wilhemina had her cane with scoliosis and that she had a secret fetish for the Victorian era, and that Cordelia was the headmistress of a witch's school, they all lived in.

And at some point you had to find out that you were in love with all three at once.

You loved Mina's severity and how proud she walked despite her scoliosis. No one had ever walked so gracefully with a cane, you were sure of that.

You loved seeing how gentle and balanced Delia was with everyone.

And you loved Ally when she explained the world to you and was the smartest person in the room.

The problem was that you were too scared. These women had known each other for a number of years and you had only known them for a few weeks. How many times have you wondered if you were just a distraction for her bedroom?

You were ashamed of this question and started avoiding contact with them. But when they confronted you, you finally revealed your feelings to them.

They weren't angry, on the contrary, they started laughing.

———————————

"We thought you knew that we love you too and were now afraid that you would avoid us because of that .." said Delia.

"Oh .." you mumbled confused.

"We're sorry we never made it official .." Ally said, putting a hand on your knee. "We thought it was obvious .."

-----------------------

And now you've finally been living with them for a week. You almost lived with them anyway. You knew the big building of the academy almost by heart, Delia's girls knew and liked you, and most of the time you spent in the trio's rooms instead of your own little apartment.

There was a little problem though: Oz, Ally's son.

Ally had decided it would be better if you didn't meet him until you officially lived with them. It wasn't up to you, but the circumstances were very complicated. If one mother died and you had two new ones, you didn't need a third.

The night you found out about Oz's existence, Ally had also told you the story of the Cult and how she killed Ivy.

—

"I want there to be no secrets between us. And I'm not proud of what I did, but it's part of me now .." she had said.

"We have all done things that we are not proud of .." was your reply.

—

The three of them tried to prepare Oz for you as best they could, which wasn't difficult because Oz wasn't a complicated kid. And you had been confident, because actually you got on well with children.

"Oz is in his room .." Ally said as she walked into your living room. She grabbed your hands to pull you up from the sofa before kissing you on the cheek.

Both of you were at home alone at the moment, as Delia and Mina were working afterwards.

You gave her a warm smile and together you went to the boy's room. Ally knocked on the door briefly before opening it. Her hand never left yours. A blond boy was sitting on the bed reading a comic. "Oz, this is Y / N .. I told you about her .." Ally said. The boy, Oz, raised his head and looked straight at you. Your breath caught at the sight of him.

He looks like Leo, was your first thought.

This little boy looked just like your little brother had looked that age. You got dizzy. All that you repressed in the last few years suddenly all shot back into your memory. Your abusive father, who hobbled on a stick because of his broken leg and didn't fail to punish Leo or you for anything senseless. Your alcoholic mother who drowned her frustration in alcohol and was never there when you needed her. And Leo, your Leo that you loved so much. How many times did you want to run away and stay because of him? Then this picture shot in your head, you were 17 at the time and he was 15. One day you came home and his dead body had tumbled from the ceiling by his belt. He couldn't take it anymore and you hated yourself so much that you didn't notice.

"Honey?" Ally's voice brought you back to the present. You looked away from Oz, who was now looking at you in confusion, and fixed your gaze on Ally. "I thought it would be better if I gave you some time alone .." she whispered.

"Sure ..", you nodded slowly.

She smiled and squeezed your hand. "Good .." was the last thing she said before leaving the room.

You stood lost in the boy's room, who by now was fixated on his comic again, and didn't know what to do. You wanted to run after Ally, bury you in her arms and start crying. But you knew that it probably wouldn't go down too well with Oz, so you just paused.

"She's happy again .." Oz suddenly said without looking up from his comic.

"Excuse me, what?"

"I mean mom .. she laughs a lot more .."

"Didn't she do that before?", You were confused.

"Yea .. but it always seemed so forced .. When Delia and Mina started to meet her, she felt like shit and she had to get back to normal, she was somehow sick or something like that .. I think she is happy to have someone who didn't see her as this wreck and that's why she's happy .. "

You didn't answer what he said because you couldn't judge it.

So it takes three women to replace one .. you thought and immediately hated yourself for it.

"What are you reading?" You walked slowly to the bed and sat down next to Oz.

"Avengers .." he muttered.

Inside you were relieved, at least something you knew.

"And do you like it?", You looked into the book and began to read along. "It's cool .." he said curtly and read on.

"That's Civil War .." you stated after two minutes. Confused, he looked at you sideways. "You know it?" "Of course.." He nodded shortly before looking back into the book. "Are you Team Cap or Team Iron Man?" You asked. "Although I like Iron Man more, Team Cap .. The way Shield is fighting him here sucks," Oz said and you nodded. You noticed the Iron Man movie poster hanging on his closet. "Have you seen the films?" "Nope .." he shook his head. "Mom won't let me .." "How old are you?" "11 .." "Okay well .. maybe I can talk your mom and we can watch her together .." you said.

"Are you serious? ..", he looked at you skeptically. "Yes .." you nodded. "I mean it's her choice, but I don't think the films are that dangerous you can't watch them .." "That would be cool .." he muttered, staring at the Iron Man poster.

--------------------------

"How about Oz, Y / N?" Asked Mina, who was sitting across from you. You looked up from your meal.

"Good .." you mumbled briefly

"Good ..?" She repeated before taking another sip of her red wine. Her eyes were still attached to yours.

"Yes ... I think I'll be able to make friends with him .." you added when you noticed that your answer was a bit short.

It was 10 p.m. and the four of you hadn't eaten with the other girls and Oz as usual, but only did it now because Mina had come home so late. And you had been noticeably quiet, still thinking about your Leo.

Ally put a hand on your knee under the table as she always did to calm you down. "You seemed very ..", she searched for words. "impressed? I don't know .."

"Uhm yes .. I was a little bit overstrained ..", you tried to smile at her, but you could still feel Mina's penetrating look. Like she's trying to look inside your head.

Cordelia, realizing the tense mood, let out a laugh.

"Overstrained would also fit our attitude when we met him for the first time ..", she said and threw a loving look at Mina.

"yeah?" You asked confused, because Cordelia always got on well with everyone.

"Oh yes .." she continued. "Ally had also left us alone with him and we didn't even know what to do .. I think it is already difficult for a child to accept one new person in the mother's life and then two ... it was all a little bit complicated.."

"And what did you do then?"

"We ended up playing Monopoly .." she said with a grin. You started to laugh. "Monopoly?" "Yes and in the end Mina was angry because she had lost .." You looked at Mina, who blushed. "Those were the wrong rules we were playing with .." she muttered. "You're just a bad loser, honey .." Cordelia said, still grinning.

Smiling you looked back and forth between the women. "So are you all right?" Ally asked again, drawing your attention back to herself. You nodded quickly. "yes, it's all good. Oz is great .. so he told me that you wouldn't let him watch the Marvel films .. they really aren't that bad, I think it's okay .."

"You think so?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Jesus Ally, don't feel criticized right away..I just mean that I could imagine watching them with him..you know, then this thing with befriending him might work better ..", you said and started playing with your fingers

Her eyes relaxed at your words. "I think that's no problem .."

------------------------------------

The next day you lay on the sofa, tired, trying to get some sleep. At night it was impossible: every time you closed your eyes, you saw the picture of the dead Leo in front of your eyes.

Ally was sitting at the end of the sofa with your legs in her lap, her fingers running over them, while she was reading an article on her cell phone.

An approaching knock made you flinch and your body stiffened, which Ally didn't go unnoticed. This is your father, you startled for a moment.

"Don't worry, Princess .. outside of the bedroom, Mina's walking stick is no danger for you .." Ally said to you and laughed.

She might found it funny, but her words made you scared, not that you wouldn't be interested in this type of sex ... But the thought of Mina hitting you with her stick made you feel uncomfortable.

"Oz is looking for you Y / N ..", Mina said as she entered the room and saw Ally and you on the sofa. You nodded briefly and jumped up to go to the boy. "Thanks Mina .." was the last thing you muttered before you left the room.

Oz was in his room, as expected. You knocked just before you entered. He was sitting at his desk doing homework.

"Mina said you'd look for me .." you said and stepped up to him. "Are we watching Iron Man today?" He asked without looking up from his duties. "Today?", You were surprised. Ally had given Oz permission to watch the movies with you at breakfast, but you didn't expect to start today. "Yup.." "uhm...Sure" "Cool ..", he raised his head and grinned crookedly. Leo shot through your head. "See you later Y / N .." "See you then," you mumbled and left his room.

A few hours later you were sitting next to Ally's son on the sofa and tried to concentrate on the film. Oz sat next to you, focused on the film and just made a few comments.

The whole evening was relatively relaxed until Oz put his head on your shoulder and immediately you were a 13 year old girl again and next to you was not your lover's son, but your 10 year old brother Leo. You weren't in the living room either. You sat crouched at the end of your bed, Leo next to you, his head on your shoulder. The TV had turned into a door that you and Leo are now staring at, concentrating on the voices behind it. It was your father fighting with your mother. Your heartbeat quickened immediately. You could hear his footsteps as he hobbled his stick down the hall. It became harder to breathe when you saw the doorknob move down and-

"It works better than I expected.." Ally's voice whispered and you were immediately back in the living room.

"Is everything okay?" She asked confused when she saw your distraught look. You nodded slowly. "Yes-", you stuttered. "I'm just a little surprised, I thought it would be more complicated to make friends with Leo .." "Leo?", Ally sat down on the sofa and pulled her sleeping son into her lap. "Oz ..." you corrected yourself quickly. "I have no idea how I come up with Leo .. in the film someone was called that .." "You're shaking Y / N .." Ally remarked and saw you concerned at. "I'm sorry," you looked down at your trembling hands. "I'm just very nervous about Oz I think .."

Ally smiled. "You don't have to .. you're doing great .."

------------------- -----------

The next morning the 4 of you, Oz and the other girls were having breakfast together.

"That was cool last night, Y / N .." Oz said suddenly and your attention was on him.

"I think so too ..", you smiled gently at him.

"What I can think of .." Ally remarked. "I have a meeting tonight and Mina has to work late ... so you'll be alone with Oz ..." She looked back and forth between you and Cordelia. "I'm out .." Delia said and sipped her coffee. "Misty and I are going to the greenhouse tonight .." "Oz and I can come with you..I am sure that Oz-" "Misty and I want to be there alone, Y / N .." Cordelia shot you an apologetic look.

"Oh okay ..", you looked carefully at Oz, who was too busy with his food to catch anything in your conversation. "That's not a problem for you, is it?" Ally asked. You shook your head quickly. "No.."

So the subject was off the table and Mina's eyes stabbed your skin again. Although she hadn't said anything, she was probably the one who felt your discomfort the most.

In the evening you and Oz had dinner alone and at first everything went well, you talked about the movie from the previous evening over dinner and you didn't have to think about Leo at all.

"okay .." you started and stood up. "I'll tidy up the kitchen and that's when you finish your homework .." Oz grinned. "Whoever finishes first .." he said and ran out of the room. You had to smile when you started washing the dishes. 10 minutes later Oz walked slowly into the room and you immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"What's up?" You frowned. Oz without a word took out his soccer ball and a few broken pieces from behind his back. "What's that?" You asked calmly.

"I finished my homework and was playing with the ball in the living room. The ball hit Delia's vase and it fell from the cupboard .." he whispered and looked at the broken pieces in his hand.

You stared at him and saw Leo again and wondered what your dad would have done to him now. Tears stung your eyes. "I can't do this anymore .." you sobbed and buried your face in your hands.

Oz looked up at you with wide eyes. "I'm really sorry, Y / N! It wasn't on purpose ... I-"

"Oz no-" you said quickly and crouched down to look at him directly. "I'm not mad at you .. You know, I'm even glad that the thing is broken .. To be honest, I found the vase totally hideous .." "Really?" He asked skeptically. You nodded and tried to smile. "Are you hurt?" "No .." he shook his head.

"Well ... let's clean up the mess now and please don't play with the ball in the house anymore."

---------------------------

"Something is wrong with Y / N .." you heard Ally say to Cordelia the next evening.

You actually wanted to go to them in the living room, but when you heard your name, you couldn't help but stop to hear what they said about you.

"What do you mean?" You heard Delia ask. Ally seemed to think twice about what to say. "Oz told me last night that she started crying when he told her, the vase was broken .." she finally said.

Fuck. You closed your eyes

"I would probably have cried too, I liked the vase .." joked Cordelia. Ally groaned. "That's not funny Delia .. When I walked into the living room the day before, when Oz and Y / N were watching this movie, she also looked totally scared. She was shaking and looked like she was going to cry any moment .." she said.

Delia hummed thoughtfully. "Did you ask her about it?" "She said she was so nervous about Oz, but I don't believe her .. I guess-"

"What are you doing here in the dark, princess?" Mina's lips to your ear made you jump.

"Jesus, Mina .." you cursed and turned to your girlfriend. You could see her grinning in the moonlight that shone in through the hall window. "I didn't hear you coming .."

"If you can't even hear me coming, then you must have been really distracted .." she said, sounding somehow sad. "Let's go in. Unless you want to keep staring at the door here ..", she reached past you to open the door. You gave way and pointed into the room. "Age before beauty .." you just said and made her laugh before she entered the room in front of you.

The previous conversation between Ally and Delia never seemed to have taken place because they both just sat there, Delia read a book and Ally scrolled through her cell phone.

--------------------------

"Happy Birthday, Princess ..", Cordelia whispered in your ear in the morning and let you wake up. "How do you know that?", You grumbled tired and slowly opened your eyes. Delia sat next to you in the Scross-legged in bed. "I am the supreme, i know everything ..", she said smugly and let you snort in annoyance. "Of course you do .." you mumbled and sat up. "Where are Mina and Ally?"

"At work? Honey, it's 11 am .." Cordelia laughed. "And what are you still doing here?" You asked confused. "Can't I spend time with my girlfriend when it's her birthday?" She smiled sweetly at you.

"Do the others know ..?"

"Nope ..", she bit her lip. "I kind of felt like you wouldn't like it if we knew ..." "I don't either," you confirmed. "Still, you'll be sad when you find out .." she muttered.

For a moment it was quiet between the two of you and you just stared at each other. And just as you were wondering how Cordelia could look so good, even though she had just woken up too, she leaned over and kissed you.

"mh delia-" you protested against her lips.

"What?", She withdrew disappointed. "I actually wanted to give you your present now ..", she grinned and enjoyed how you blushed at her statement.

"At least let me brush my teeth beforehand .." you mumbled embarrassed and jumped off the bed.

"Hurry up, princess .."

---------------

In the late afternoon you sat across from Mina at the table. Ally was still working and Cordelia had arranged to meet Misty in the greenhouse. Mina was reading the paper in thought, a habit that you found incredibly cute. You yourself were playing some random game on your cell phone when the message tone on your cell phone beeped.

Message from Joanne: "Hello Y / N, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I'm going to your city next week because I have to go to the doctor and wanted to ask if you would like to meet me?

~ Joanne. "

Your heart quickened on the last sentence. Joanne was your mother and wrote you every year for your birthday, you had never even answered one of her messages and now she wanted to see you again after so many years. She would come here and there was nothing you could do against it.

"Y / N ..?"

You raised your eyes to Mina, who was frowning at you.

"You're hyperventilating .." she remarked emotionless.

"I'm just dizzy ...", you gasped and stood up to run into the bathroom, or rather to stumble into the bathroom. You could feel your stomach turn as you leaned over the toilet and vomited into the toilet bowl.

The world around you seemed to be spinning. The closed bathroom door became the door of your nursery, you could even hear the knock on your father's stick. And how he got closer and closer. You tried to scream, but your mouth was only a soft gasp. Tears stung your eyes. "Please .." you tried silently to get air. A hand put on your back and you instantly jumped away from the toilet. "Please don't hurt me ..", you whimpered and looked fearfully into the face of the person in front of you.

Mina stood in front of you in shock, she had never seen you like this before. And the look you gave her broke her heart. "Honey you need to calm down .." She sat carefully on the floor and grimaced as pain ran through her back. Slowly she reached out her hand to touch yours, which was a mistake. Your hand jerked back, you reached out and let your hand fall against her left cheek. "Don't touch me .." you growled. "What the hell Y / N .." Mina hissed, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at her. "It's me, princess, Mina ..", she whispered and felt her own eyes fill with tears. Your eyes widened when you recognized your girlfriend. And with that you finally broke, but Mina was there to pull you into her lap while you cried into her blouse. She held you as tightly as she could while trying to process the things that had just happened. The cheek your hand had marked on it burned like fire and yet it was impossible for her to realize that you had just hit her. It had never been you, she thought. And yet it was you who was lying in her arms right now.

"I'm so sorry .." you sniffed into her blouse when you had slowly calmed down. Mina gently put her hands around your cheeks and searched your face as if it contained any answers for what had just happened. She swallowed just before speaking. "Are you scared of me, Y / N?"

When her words reached your ear, you wrapped your arms around her torso and did your best not to hurt her. You felt so damn guilty.

"I would never hurt you .." she said softly against your ear, her voice thick with tears.

"I know Mina .." you whispered. "And I could never be afraid of you .."

You drew her back before your fingers slided down her right cheek where your hand marked it. "I'm so sorry .." you repeated your words from a few seconds ago.

"I'm fine Y / N", Mina assured us and took your hand. "I'm just worried about you .. I've been watching you for the last few days, you're acting totally strange .."

"I'm okay .." you mumbled and stood up with shaky legs.

"Don't damn me lie to Y / N! ...", she hissed and there she was again, the strict Mina you loved so much.

"Mina .. I'm really fine, you just shouldn't worry .. That's why I would prefer if Ally and Delia didn't find out about what just happened ... "you said as you leaned towards the mirror to fix your hair.

Mina shook her head blankly and propped herself up. "You are unbelievably Y / N .. two minutes ago you were lying here on the floor and now you're pretending nothing happened ... You won't be able to run away forever .. "she said, took her walking stick and walked past you to leave the bathroom.

You had never spoken to anyone about it, nobody knew about what had happened in your family and actually you had sworn to yourself that you would never tell anyone about it. Simply because you felt terrible about it, somewhere Leo's suicide was also your fault because you weren't strong enough to defend him.

You ran into the hallway and saw Mina sitting at the table again. Lost in thought, she looked out the window. "I think I'll go to sleep, I'm relatively tired ..." you said. Mina didn't move an inch. "You probably won't see me again today .." you muttered and went into your bedroom to actually get some sleep.

---------------

A few hours later you woke up from a bad dream.

It was dark and the first thing you noticed was Minas lavender perfume that surrounded you. Then you realized that, despite the events of the previous day, you 4 had taken your usual sleeping position: You and Ally were in the middle. Cordelia on the right edge, next to Ally and Mina on the left edge, next to you. Mina had her arms wrapped tightly around you and your head was on her chest. Like a few hours ago in the bathroom, you noticed.

Are you scared of me, Y/N?

Mina's words echoed in your head. The sad look she gave you made you feel infinite guilt.

"Mina?" You whispered softly against her neck.

"mhm ..". Mina hummed in her sleep.

"Are you awake..?" You knew how stupid and unnecessary that question was, but you couldn't help it.

She didn't answer at first, before moving after a few seconds.

"Now yeah .." she muttered as she pressed her nose against your hair.

"I just wanted to say, I love you .." you whispered and played with the purple fabric of Mina's pajamas.

"I love you too, princess ..". Was her answer and she kissed you on the forehead. Then it became quiet again and after a few minutes you could tell from her breath that she had fallen asleep again. Unfortunately, in contrast to her, you were wide awake and therefore decided to get up. Carefully you free yourself from her arms and sat up in bed. Confused, you noticed that the place next to Ally, who was sleeping sweetly, was empty. Where was Cordelia? You carefully climbed out of bed and went to look for the blonde, only to find her in the bathroom. You crept and stopped suddenly when you saw Cordelia lying in the bathtub.

Cordelia gave you a warm smile when she saw you and you couldn't help but laugh out loud. "What's so funny?" Cordelia grinned. "You .." you uttered, still laughing. "I?"

"Yes. You .. It's two o'clock in the morning and you sit here in the dark and bathe ...". You trotted to the sink. "It's not completely dark, I lit candles ..", Cordelia defended herself. You shook your head in amusement and washed your face.

"You're sweating .." Cordelia remarked, referring to the sweat stains on your shirt. "Didn't sleep so well .." you replied curtly. "I guess you don't want to sleep again either ..?" "Nope .." You turned back to her.

"Well ... then I would love it if you kept me company here," Delia said and smiled again. You shook your head again, just grinning, before you pulled your shirt over your head and went to the tub to get into the water. Cordelia sat down so that you were sitting in front of her and your body was leaning against her bare torso. She carefully put her arms around your torso and rested her chin on your head. You lay down for a few minutes Just there and you would probably have fallen asleep had she not spoken.

"Mina told us about your dropout this afternoon .."

Of course she did..

You closed your eyes "Why don't you just tell us what's going on Y / N?" She began softly. "We're really really worried." "I can't Delia .. I've never talked about it .." you whispered. "So do you admit something is wrong?" You snorted. "Of course something is wrong .. I hit Mina."

"You know that she's not angry with you, she's just worried as I said .. You know, no matter what is on your mind, we all suffer with you, no matter whether you tell us what's going on or not .. ", Delia said and ran her wet fingers through your hair. You just nodded at her words. "You could only tell one of us if that helps you.", She offered, although she knew that this would also bring new problems. "No, I trust you all .. It's just that, as I said, I've never told anyone about it. I am just afraid of your reaction .. "you said.

"Oh y / n ..", she sighed and turned your head so that she could look you in the eye. "No matter what happened, we love you so much and nothing could change that ..". Again you nodded.

Then suddenly she got up and grabbed a towel. "What are you doing?" You asked confused when you watched her get out of the tub and dry off. "You pull the plug and get dressed ... Meanwhile, I'll wake Ally and Mina, we'll finally talk to each other .." she said and put her nightgown back on before she ran out of the bathroom.

"You won't do that, it's the middle of the night .." you shouted after her.

"I know."

You climbed out of the bathtub, trembling, and drained the water. You dried yourself off quickly and got dressed. Before you left the room, you took a quick look in the mirror. You looked like you were going to cry any minute.

"We're in the living room, Y / N .." Cordelia suddenly called. For a moment you closed your eyes, then you slowly walked into your common living room. Your 3 friends sat on the sofa and stared at you expectantly. Cordelia sat with her legs crossed, her hair wet and her short nightgown on the right end. Ally was sitting cross-legged to her left. Clad in a T-shirt and shorts, she narrowed her eyes against the light. And at the other end sat Mina, in her purple pajamas, her long red hair curling on the fabric. Her left hand held her walking stick and, as always, her gaze seemed to shine through you.

You sat in the chair in front of them when Ally held out her hand to you. "This is not a fucking interrogation Y / N ..". You carefully took her hand and she pulled you between Delia and herself. You stared nervously into your lap and played with your fingers. You could still feel their expectant looks.

"Oz looks like my little brother ..." you suddenly let out. "Is that all?" Ally asked confused. "No .." you shook your head and waited a few seconds. "..my childhood wasn't that great ... my mom had a big drinking problem I guess..". "And your father?" Cordelia asked. "Uhm, well ... he hit us when we didn't do things the way he wanted ..."

Briefly there was silence in the room. "That's awful Y / N, but what does this have to do with my son ..?" Ally finally asked.

"My brother committed suicide when he was 15 because of my parents .." you said and heard Ally take a shaky breath. "And actually I had repressed all of that over the years and when I saw Oz ... I only saw Leo ...".

You got up and walked to an unpacked box with your things. You came back with a picture, which you put into Delia's hand. It was a family photo. Delia stared hard at the photo. "Your father had a walking stick .." she said suddenly and you instinctively looked at Mina, who was staring lost at the floor. Her grip on her own walking stick had tightened so much that you could be afraid it would be squeezed by her fingers. "His left leg wasn't healthy ... that's why he hobbled ...". Delia passed the photo on to Ally, who only had eyes for the blond boy next to you. "Well .. he actually looks a bit like Oz ..", Ally only mumbled and wanted to pass the picture on to Mina, but she just shook her head. "I do not want to see this..".

Again there was brief silence and again Ally was the one breaking it. "When I told you about Ivy and said I don't want any secrets between us, I actually assumed you'd think that way too..That's why I'm kind of angry Y / N..I mean, Do you don't trust us?"

You just wanted to speak, when Cordelia came before you. "She wasn't ready yet, Ally..She-" "Cordelia, I asked Y / N and not you .." Ally hissed.

"I've never told anyone about it ..." was all you said. "But we're not just anyone .." Ally sounded disappointed. "I didn't want you guys to think wrong of me .." you said softly. Cordelia leaned forward and grabbed your hand. "What happened is not your fault .. it was your brother's decision and your parents' fault .." "But maybe I could have done more .." you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. Cordelia just sighed and pulled you into her lap. You leaned your back against her chest and listened for her heartbeat.

"And what was yesterday?" Asked Ally. "Something must have triggered your strange behavior .." "My mother texted me .. she does that every year on my birthday .." you said.

"It was your birthday?" Ally looked at you with raised eyebrows.

You nodded briefly and made Ally moan in frustration. "If you don't even tell us that anymore, then-" "She said she would come here next week because she has to see a doctor .. She wants to meet with me .." you interrupted her. "But I don't want to see her ..", you felt tears running down your face.

Ally just shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You should have talked to us much earlier Y / N ..", Mina finally said. "Even if this is all new now, we are a family and it is our job to make sure that you are okay. We would never have left you alone with Oz, had we known about your brother .. Not just about you to protect, but also because of Oz's safety. It's important that we trust each other, we've all been through complicated things .. " You nodded guiltily again.

Cordelia cleared her throat. "The scars on your back, you told us they were from a car accident, is that true?" "No .." you said. Suddenly you felt Delia's cool fingers pulling up your shirt and exposing your scars. "Delia what-" "Shut up, Y / N .." They'd all seen your scars before, but knowing that those scars were someone's craft, made them look a lot more brutal when Delia gently ran her fingers over them. "Did he? ..- asked Mina. You nodded and tears fell into your lap as you let out a sob. "I'm sorry," you said, holding a hand over your mouth to stifle your sobs.

"Damn Y / N, stop apologizing ..". Ally jumped up, stood in front of Delia and you, pressed your head against her flat stomach and rubbed your upper back with her hand. Delia's fingers continued to slide to the scars on your side. "Was that him too?" She asked softly. "No .." you answered. "Then who was it? Your moth-" "It was her, Delia .." Mina interrupted her with closed eyes. How could they have been so blind? Such scars did not appear in car accidents.

"Is that true Y / N?", Cordelia's voice trembled when she asked. "I'm so sorry .." you sniffed at Ally's shirt. "Back then I didn't know how to deal with everything .." "Shhh princess .." Ally cooed. "Please finally stop apologizing for something you can't do anything about .."

"Honey, do you still hurt yourself sometimes?" Asked Mina, who had slipped up to you and put her hand on yours.

"I've stopped doing that since Leo's death .. I think he saw me with a knife sometimes ..". The thought of it brought new tears to your eyes and made you sob one more time.

Cordelia pulled the fabric of your shirt back down before leaning her head on your back and wrapping your arms around your waist. Mina, who was sitting next to Delia, was the only one who could see her tears as she reached out her hand to gently run through Delia's hair. "Some things are going to change now, Y / N .." she said firmly. "We'll be more careful about some things and we'll also have to see how we deal with Oz without it being uncomfortable for him or you. I'll contact your mother and make it clear to her that you don't want any more contact. We can't stop Oz looking the way he looks, but we'll help you deal with it because that's what we're here for .. ". Her thumb brushed the back of your hand, which was in her lap. That was the last thing that was said that night, but you stayed in that position for a long time. You in the midst of your worried lover

#cordelia goode x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #ally mayfair richards x reader #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode #wilhemina venable #ally mayfair richards #american horror story #cordelia goode x reader x wilhemina venable #cordelia goode x wilhemina venable x reader x ally mayfair richards

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.5 | Brittana

A/N - Big shoutout to those who donated a coffee to me through ko-fi last week! It was a really nice treat that helped me stay somewhat sane during this lockdown (which hopefully only last a few more days). 

Anyway, a longer chapter this week thanks to all the free time I have lol. Enjoy! 💙

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

When Santana awakes the next morning, it’s to the sound of distant laughter. It takes her a second to decided whether or not she’s actually awake, because that laughter? She’s pretty sure she knows who it belongs too and if that’s the case: What the fuck?          

The last thing she’d expect is for Brittany to go rogue, but as she pushes herself to sit up she notices that the blanket Brittany stole from her last night has made its way back onto the bed.

Her pillow too!

In fact, with a glance around no one would be able to tell that they slept separately last night.

Santana hates to say it, but she’s just a little impressed.

When she finally makes her way downstairs, Santana finds that the record player has been broken out and the sounds of Donna Summer fills the air. As Santana gets closer to the source, she finds Brittany and Maribel standing around the kitchen counter dressed in aprons.

They don’t notice Santana at first, too busy concentrating on whatever pastries they’re working on. Brittany has her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun while Maribel wears her reading glasses, and together they knead small mounds of dough with their hands as they chat.

Santana watches with curious interest; she’s never seen her mom cook with anyone else Santana’s brought home. Usually her guests are a little hesitant to leave her side let alone abandon her altogether in favor of hanging out with her mom.

Suddenly her eavesdropping is interrupted by a swift poke to her ribs.

“Jesus!” Santana shrieks which instantly earns her another poke and a scowl. She rubs at her side as Abuela brushes past her. “You trying to give someone a heart attack?”

Upon Santana’s interruption, Maribel and Brittany look up to find her standing in the doorway. It only takes a moment before the blonde is slipping into her role of girlfriend again and making her way over while Abuela joins Maribel.

“Mornin’, Sleepyhead!” Brittany greets happily before a quick kiss is pressed to Santana’s cheek. “I thought you weren’t getting up until noon.”

“We’re not far from it,” Maribel notes with a nod to the clock.

Santana smiles apologetically as all eyes are on her, “Sorry. It must be the jetlag.”

Brittany chuckles, “There isn’t a time difference though.”

Santana doesn’t answer, just follows Brittany over to the counter where Abuela stands eyeing their handywork. She makes a few pinches to the dough here and another adjustment there, always ever so critical of the cooking being done.

“What’s going on here?” Santana asks.

“Just getting ready for tonight,” Maribel replies. “Lots to do, but Brittany offered to help us.”

“Oh really?” Santana glances to Brittany.

The blonde just shrugs, “I’m an early riser. I figured I’d make myself useful.”

“Unlike Santana,” Maribel smirks.

Brittany chuckles, “Yeah. It’s a struggle to get that one out of bed.”

While the pair laugh together, Santana wishes she could roll her eyes. After how they ended the night before, she wasn’t sure if Brittany was going to stay on top of her game but it seems like she’s more determined that ever. Santana didn’t think it would be at her expense though.

“Well that was nice of you to help out,” Santana compliments in favor of being snarky.  

Brittany shrugs, “I just hope that mine don’t stick out like sore thumbs compared to Maribel’s.”

Santana glances to the counter and nods, “I’m sure they’ll turn out great.”

“They will,” Maribel assures. “You know Abuela watches everything that comes out of this kitchen like a hawk.”

There’s a small smile on Abuela’s lips before she goes back to stirring a pot of something on the stove. Santana notes the silence and wonders if Abuela has still yet to say a word to Brittany, but there’s no time to ask as Maribel tosses her an apron.

“You know the drill, Santana. If you’re going to be in here you better start working,” Maribel instructs with a sudden sternness.

“Mami,” Santana pouts. “Can’t I at least have a coffee first? I just woke up…”

Maribel tuts, “You and your father are so similar. Always needing coffee before doing anything. Why couldn’t you have taken after me instead?”

“Yes, an age old question,” Santana sighs as she looks to Brittany. “Have you eaten or did they just put you straight to work?”

Maribel cuts Santana with a glare while Brittany only chuckles to lighten to mood.

“I ate but I could go for a coffee.”  

“Awesome,” Santana then tosses the apron aside and takes Brittany by the hand. “I’m stealing her and your car now. Be back later!”

Santana assumed Brittany would’ve willingly followed, but surprisingly Brittany looks back at her work with a look of hesitance. Would she really rather stay behind? Santana figured she’d be dying to break away for a little while, but apparently not?  

“Will that be okay?” Brittany ends up asking. “I can continue helping when we come back?”

Santana’s eyes widen. What is she doing? Gunning for the perfect daughter award now too?

Maribel and Abuela share an unreadable look before nodding to Brittany.

“That’s okay, Brittany,” Maribel replies. “There’s more than enough left to be done.”

“Awesome,” Brittany bounces a little on her toes before leaving the kitchen.

Santana turns to follow after her when Maribel calls out to her. The sound of her being beckoned in that tone already has the hairs on the back of Santana’s neck standing on end.

“Yes?”

“You could learn a thing or two from her,” Maribel scolds. “When’s the last time you’ve offered to help around here before running off?”

Santana doesn’t have a response, just nods before she follows Brittany outside.

\\

Once they’re in the car, Santana feels like a weight has been lifted. Even behind closed doors, they still have to maintain the act because walls are thin and you never know who might be walking by. However, being trapped alone together in the car is like the first real break since they got off the plane.

Despite the break though, the silence between them is heavy.

Santana’s gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it with her eyes focused hard on the road while Brittany only stares out the window. The tension reminds Santana of last night and once again, the annoyance is back in full force.

They’re only in the car for five more minutes before Brittany speaks.

“Have I done something wrong?” She asks.

Santana blinks, breaking her staring contest with the road in favor of glancing to Brittany. The blonde has her brows furrowed and there’s a look of confusion on her face. It makes Santana feel ridiculous for being annoyed in the first place which annoys her even more.

“I don’t know,” Santana grumbles.

She can still feel Brittany’s eyes on her, burning holes into the side of her face but she can’t look at her anymore. Looking at her makes Santana feel irrational and she hates it because she doesn’t understand why that is.

“Is this about what Maribel said before?”

Santana clenches her jaw, but doesn’t answer. She didn’t think Brittany heard her, but apparently she did. Knowing that only makes Santana feel worse, but Brittany frowns and tries again.

“Is this about last night?”

“I said I don’t know,” Santana suddenly snaps.

Brittany purses her lips in thought as they fall even deeper into awkward tension. In reality, Santana really doesn’t know what she feels. She was never great at navigating her feelings let alone talking about them so Brittany’s badgering just puts her on edge.

“Well figure it out,” Brittany finally replies after a long pause. “I’m laying down some pretty solid ground work and I don’t want you messing it up with a mood swing or whatever is going on with you.”

Santana laughs bitterly, “Oh, that’s right! I forgot you’re apparently the World’s Greatest Girlfriend who can do no wrong.”

“What?” Brittany frowns. “Where is this coming from?”

Santana grits her teeth, “I have to deal with everyone thinking you’re so perfect on campus and now I have to deal with in here.”

“Isn’t that why you asked me to do this?” Brittany argues. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly giving me shit.”

Santana shakes her head, “Because I don’t understand why you always have to go above and beyond! You just kiss everyone’s ass and it’s so annoying!”

“You literally asked me to play this role, Santana. You asked me to be here,” Brittany replies. “You wanted this to be convincing so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah well, you don’t have to make me look like shit in the process.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Santana doesn’t answer, just focuses on the road.

“Here’s a thought, maybe you wouldn’t look so shit if you gave just an ounce of effort,” Brittany tells her. There’s a firmness to her tone that makes something within Santana rattle. “So what if I’m trying to bond with your family? You told me that’s what needed to be done! Don’t get mad at me because I’m actually trying. You want different results? Put in the work.”

“Okay fine, whatever,” Santana huffs as she pulls into the Starbucks drive-thru.

Brittany huffs to and crosses her arms. She’s a little red in the face – surely Santana’s doing – and it seems so out of place on the blonde. Santana’s been able to wind her up in the past, but she’s never seen Brittany look this visibly pissed. At least that’s one thing Santana doesn’t have a problem doing.

But the longer they sit in silence, Santana begins to reflect on her words.

It really wasn’t her best work, but she’s been known to struggle with shutting the hell up. Once she’s on a roll, it’s like she can’t back down. Whether she’s right or wrong, she’s got to have the last word.

Even now, she knows she was out of line coming at Brittany after she’s been nothing but great but there’s this little voice in her head – let’s call her Snixx – and Snixx likes to stir the pot. Snixx likes to encourage the anger and frustration inside Santana and Snixx doesn’t care how it effects anyone.

\\

As they get closer to order, the guilt really starts to set in next.

That coupled with the heavy silence has Santana feeling like such an ass. Of course she can’t admit that she was an ass because like…pride but they can’t go back to the house with this weighing on them either.

There has to be something she can do, something she can say to ease the tension? Something that can break the ice?

“Did you want anything?” Santana asks in a meek voice.

Brittany’s a little hesitant to answer and at first Santana thinks she might be getting the silent treatment now, but then there’s a quiet sigh.

“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry for being a jerk?”

Santana rolls her eyes although she feels a blush setting in. Brittany looks at her like she’s completely transparent and it makes Santana want to run and hide. It’s like Brittany knows that Santana knows she messed up, so why be a dick about it?

Karma, Santana guesses.

“Do you want a drink or not?” Santana asks but her tone lacks the usual sass.

Brittany seems to notice, but she stares back challengingly anyway.

“Peppermint Mocha,” She finally answers.

“Okay.”

“With whipped cream.”

“Okay.”

“And peppermint sprinkles, not the chocolate shavings.”

Santana sighs, “Okay. Anything else?”

“And maybe one of those cake pop things.”

Santana can tell Brittany’s just messing with her now. If this is her way of apologizing then it’s only fair that Brittany orders whatever she wants.

“Is that all?” Santana asks.

Brittany ponders for a moment before nodding, “That’s all.”

“Okay,” Santana answers and goes on to relay their order to the cashier.

\\

Once they’ve got their drinks and snacks, Santana parks the car in a spot that overlooks the busy road. They mostly sit in silence; Santana nibbles on her panini while Brittany sips on her drink. The radio is on so there’s at least something to fill the void, but Santana doesn’t really find much joy in repetitive Christmas music.

As she changes the station, Brittany frowns.

“I was listening to that,” She says as she changes it back.

Santana matches her expression, “You like this?”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s depressing.”

Brittany gives her a look, “How?”

“Bells will be ringin' the sad, sad news,” Santana belts out suddenly.

Brittany starts to smile, “Okay of all the Christmas songs –“

Santana sings over her, “Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues.”

“I don’t think this is the best representation of – “

“My baby's gone. I have no friends. To wish me greetings once again!”  

This time Brittany doesn’t interject; she can’t because Santana’s singing overpowers her. There’s a little smug grin beginning to form on Santana’s face as she finishes on the last note though.

“See?” She says in a normal voice. “Depressing as hell.”

Brittany chuckles, “Okay. That one was depressing, but can we talk about the elf in the room?”

“That I’ve got a killer voice?”

“Not that,” Brittany waves her off.

“Uh rude.”

“I mean, it’s alright,” Brittany smirks, “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you knew the lyrics to that song by heart?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “My dad travelled for work a lot when I was younger. He was almost never home for Christmas so take a lucky guess which two songs my mom constantly had on repeat.”

“Rough,” Brittany replies.

“Yeah,” Santana nods. “The holidays are overrated.”

“Okay Scrooge,” Brittany jokes.

“It’s true! It’s just party after party and everyone’s suddenly all about joy and world peace or whatever. Don’t even get me started on the headache that is Christmas shopping. It’s all a nightmare because the Lopez clan is huge and they all need gifts.”

While Santana rambles Brittany only stares down at her coffee in thought, her finger tracing the lid in slow circles.

“But hanging out with your family,” Brittany mentions. “Having them all in one place every year, that’s kind of nice?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t remember the last time mine were together like that. I’m not really that close with my family.”

“Lucky you,” Santana jokes.

“Yeah,” Brittany says quietly which causes Santana’s smile to drop.

She remembers how she spent this year’s Christmas – alone at home with a bottle of wine and Netflix – and how much of a welcomed break it was from the usual festivities. Santana loved the alone time, but Brittany? She remembers her saying she’d still be on campus and it makes her wonder how she spent the day too or more importantly, why she didn’t return home like everyone else?

Santana doesn’t ask though, unsure if that’s a line she’s willing to cross.

“Well, you’ll get your fix tonight,” Santana tries joking again. “Like I said, the Lopez clan is huge. They’ll be changing your tune, just give them an hour.”

Brittany smiles but it isn’t as bright as it usually is.

\\

Once they get back to Maribel’s, Brittany joins Maribel and Abuela in cooking once again. Santana’s a little reluctant but she tags along too, remembering what Brittany said before about effort and Maribel’s final words about learning something from the girl.

Santana already has to deal with Brittany always one-upping her on campus – she doesn’t need it at home too. So although there are other things she’d much rather be doing, she sits alongside the three of them. They talk about Santana and Brittany’s studies, the assignment they’re working on together while throwing in little details about how their relationship progressed.

“Don’t you all need to get ready?” Eddie interrupts the chatter with a confused look on his face.

Neither of them realize it, but they’ve ended up spending the entire afternoon chatting. It’s not something Santana usually does, but it surprisingly wasn’t all that painful since conversation didn’t solely consist of dissecting her love life. Maybe having a fake girlfriend by her side is something she should’ve done a long time ago?

“Oh! You’re right. We better get ready,” Maribel mentions once she sees the time. “Everyone should be arriving within the next hour or so.”

“As if anyone shows up on time,” Santana jokes.

Maribel gives her a look before turning to Eddie, “Do you mind bringing out the extra chairs?”

“Already done,” He grins. “I can finish up here. You all go.”

Santana doesn’t have to be told twice before she and Brittany head upstairs.

\\

Similar to last night, Santana and Brittany move quietly around each other like a well-rehearsed dance. Brittany parks herself in front of Santana’s bedroom mirror with her makeup bag while Santana heads to the bathroom to get changed into something a little more formal.

Once Santana finishes up awhile later, she rejoins Brittany in her room where she finds her lounging on the bed scrolling through her phone.

“Finally,” Brittany comments while Santana closes the door behind her.

“Perfection takes time,” Santana quips. “I see you packed a New Year’s Eve sweater. Didn’t know those were a thing.”

Brittany snorts as she prepares to dish out a comeback, but Santana’s surprised that it never comes. Instead, the annoyance shifts as Brittany looks at her for the first time.

“Oh, you’re dressed so...”

Santana frowns at the possible implications before checking herself out in the stand up mirror. It’s her usual attire for these kind of events – long sleeves to counter the short hem that someone’s bound to scold her about, knit for the cold because it’s ballsy to have her legs on display in this temperature, and deep red because she looks best in that color.  

When Santana turns back to Brittany to ask what the problem is, the blonde is tugging at her sweater and glancing at her skirt.

“Should I change?” Brittany asks shyly. “I feel kind of underdressed compared to you.”

Santana softens upon hearing the unexpected tone. It’s not like Brittany’s showing up in ripped jeans and a hoodie, so Santana’s not sure where the concern is coming from.

“No you’re fine,” Santana ends up assuring her with a shake of her head, “I like your boots.”

“Oh,” Brittany sticks out her boot to show it off a little more. “I have them in black too, they were on sale.”

“Love me a good deal,” Santana jokes.

“Me too.”

Brittany then goes to stand, eyeing Santana’s dress before looking down at her sweater again.

“You sure this is okay though?” Brittany asks. “I don’t want your entire family thinking I don’t clean up well.”

Santana sighs, “As much as I’d love to lie to you so that I can listen to everyone bag on your fashion choices, that wouldn’t really benefit me. When you look good, I look good.”

Brittany’s brows furrow with confusion, “You’re not really good at giving fashion advice.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “I’m not used to someone asking, that’s why.”

Brittany frowns and it has Santana softening again.

“You look good,” Santana tells her. “I’m sure someone’s going to think you look very cute in your sweater. It’s bound to get loads of compliments tonight.”

Brittany mulls over Santana’s words for a moment before nodding.

“Was that better?”

Brittany nods again, “Yup.”

“Okay great,” Santana looks back at herself in the mirror and tussles her hair. “Are you ready to get down there now?”

Brittany sucks in a deep breath, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

\\

As soon as the new couple makes their appearance, they’re bombarded by several family members. There are compliments all around, cheek-pinches, tight hugs and lots of congratulating. If Santana didn’t know any better, she’d think that someone told them that she and Brittany are newly engaged judging by the swarm.

Then again, Maribel’s probably told them that Brittany and Santana have been dating for weeks now which is way longer than any other relationship Santana’s had. Gossip in her family travels very fast, especially when it’s about her.

Any other girl Santana has brought home would’ve caved under the attention Santana’s aunts and cousins are giving them, but Brittany surprisingly does well. She remains kind and polite as introductions are reeled off and once again Santana finds herself being a little impressed.

\\

Awhile later, Brittany’s seated in an arm chair surrounded by some of Santana’s aunts while Santana watches from afar as she gets them both a drink. She can hear Brittany’s laughter, much like she did that morning, and wonders what’s so funny. The aunts that she’s with are some of the older, more gossipy ones so they can’t be that hilarious.

“I see Brittany’s getting along well with everyone,” Maribel notes as she comes up beside Santana.

“I told you she’s pretty charismatic,” Santana answers.

“Uh-huh,” Maribel hums and turns to Santana. “There’s something different about her.”

Santana attempts to keep her cool, not wanting to give away how Maribel’s comment makes her feel uneasy.

“I know,” She replies before it because suspicious. “I think that’s why we work so well together.”

Maribel nods, “Opposites attract.”

“That’s what they tell me,” Santana answers.

“Hmm,” Maribel turns to start pouring herself a drink. “You know Maria’s here.”

“Who’s Maria?”

Maribel frowns, “My friend? I set you up with her daughter?”

Santana instantly cringes, “Oh please don’t tell me Francesca is here too? I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.”

Maribel chuckles, “She’s not here.”

“Thank God.”

“Does Brittany know about that?”

Santana quirks a brow, “Does she know about you setting me up on blind dates against my will?”

Maribel’s expression hardens.

“No,” Santana answers. “That’s not something I wanted to explain to her considering it was super embarrassing. Our relationship was new anyway, I didn’t want to scare her off.”

“I see,” Maribel replies. “I guess it ended up working out anyway.”

“It did,” Santana says as she looks back to Brittany who’s admiring one of the aunt’s wedding ring. “See what happens when you don’t meddle in my love life?”

Maribel just swats at Santana’s shoulder. “I didn’t meddle. It was just a little guidance.”

“Okay Mami,” Santana laughs before heading over to Brittany.

Blue eyes flicker to meet hers once Santana gets close enough. They’re unreadable as Santana perches on the arm of Brittany’s chair. She leans down, her lips close to Brittany’s cheek.

“Let me know when you want a break,” Santana discreetly whispers before handing her a glass of wine.

Brittany smiles in thanks, “It’s not so bad. They’re way more interesting than my family and the food’s a whole lot better too. And you’re right, everyone loves my sweater!”

Santana chuckles and goes to sip her drink while Brittany jumps back into the conversation happening around them. The more she drinks, the less concerned about every little movement they make, the less worry she feels about what everyone’s thinking and if they’re believing this act.

\\

As they get closer to midnight, Santana loosens up more.

When Brittany leans back a little and slides an arm around Santana’s hips, she barely flinches. She actually leans into it, moving to play with the tips of Brittany’s softly tussled hair while the blonde tells the aunts about some reality show they all watch.

Santana’s not really listening, all the voices in the room and everything happening is all a blur. Not because she has a slight buzz going, but because this is what happens every family gathering. The aunts gather and gossip, the uncles drink and talk about business, the younger cousins run around, the older ones seclude themselves to one room where they sit on their phones and Maribel and Alma pump out dish after dish making sure everyone’s fed.

Usually Santana would’ve snuck out to the garage with her date by now for a quickie or at the very least a steamy make out session, but she finds herself in a very different position this time. She has to pretend like she knows anything about a long lasting relationship or any relationship really that doesn’t revolve around sex which is a new concept for her.

“Well look who it is!”

Suddenly another one of Santana’s cousins makes their presence known in a flashy wave of their arms. Santana knows the voice before she sees who it is, but Brittany’s looking up at her in confusion.

“Who’s she?”

“My super spoiled cousin,” Santana quips as the girl steps closer.

“I’m one of many, but the only one that matters the most.”

Santana rolls her eyes and glances to Brittany, “See what I mean?”

“Hi,” She greets with her hand out. “Sugar.”

“Hey,” Brittany replies as she takes the girl’s hand. “Sweetheart?”

Sugar’s eyes narrow while Brittany looks back innocently.

“Sugar’s her name,” Santana supplies.

Brittany blushes, “Oh!”

“It’s actually a nickname,” Sugar corrects.

“It’s not,” Santana laughs and turns to Brittany. “My uncle was totally high when he thought of it.”

“He was not!” Sugar huffs. “That’s just a rumor which he put to rest years ago.”

“Not a rumor,” Santana whispers to Brittany.

“Anyway,” Sugar rolls her eyes in a similar fashion as Santana before looking to the blonde. “You must be Brittany. The serious girlfriend everyone won’t stop talking about.”

Brittany glances up at Santana then back to Sugar, “That’s me. Hope it’s all good things you’ve been hearing or this would be super awkward.”

“Oh they’re super good things!” Sugar replies enthusiastically before moving to sit across from them. The aunts that were there have moved on to the kitchen, but Santana’s sure it’s because they can’t stand Sugar either.

“Of course they’re good,” Santana says as she drapes her arm around Brittany’s shoulders for a cuddle.

“I kind of find it suspicious,” Sugar tells them simply.

“What?” Brittany and Santana say in unison.

“You seem nice,” Sugar says to Brittany. “Relatively normal and a lot less trashy than the usual Santana brings around.”

“Nice Sugar,” Santana scoffs. “Talk to my current girlfriend about my past relationships.”

Sugar waves her off, “I’d hardly call them that.”

Brittany catches Sugar’s hand and gasps, “Wow, that’s a nice ring!”

Santana looks to her, amazed by the smooth distraction.

“Isn’t it?” Sugar beams at the engagement ring on her finger. “It weighs a ton!”

“Looks like it,” Brittany smiles before sitting back. “Is your fiancé here?””

“Yeah. Where is Mr. Moneybags?” Santana wonders as she eyes the room.

“Don’t call him that and he’s working.”

“Oh, what does he do?” Brittany asks in attempt to keep the spotlight off of them and on Sugar instead.  

Santana scoffs, “I don’t know if I’d consider getting high on your own supply working.”

Brittany looks to Santana curiously.

“Brett’s a stoner,” Santana tells her.

Sugar swats at her cousin’s arm, “He’s not! He’s actually the nation’s leading cannabis connoisseur and he takes his work very seriously.”

“Of course he does,” Santana winks before mouthing to Brittany. “He’s a stoner.”

“I saw that,” Sugar frowns before turning to Brittany. “There’s a lot more to the job than you’d think. You know he’s recently signed a deal with Bobby Flay to collaborate on a new cookbook? He’s basically a ginger Snoop Dog.”

“So he raps too?” Brittany asks innocently.

“Well, no,” Sugar replies. “But that might come later down the line.”

“God, I don’t think anyone needs to hear that man rap,” Santana laughs. “And Bobby Flay? Is he still relevant?”

Sugar rolls her eyes and goes to admire her ring, “I don’t ask questions. I just cash checks.”

“Wow,” Brittany says. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”

Sugar smiles appreciatively.

“I still can’t believe your dad is okay with you marrying this guy,” Santana jokes. “My mom would lose it.”

Sugar shrugs, “You know daddy, everything’s a future business venture. Anything to boost the Motta name.”

A realization hits Brittany, “Wait…Motta? As in the infamous Motta Pianos drug scandal?“  

“Different Motta,” Sugar abruptly says. “At least that’s what daddy told me.”

Brittany looks to Santana skeptically but Santana just shrugs.

“Well,” Santana glances at the time. “Hopefully he turns up soon.”

Sugar rolls her eyes, “He promised he’d be here in time for midnight and he never breaks his promise.”

“So, so romantic,” Santana teases.

Sugar waves her off again, “You wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

“I don’t know,” Brittany pipes in. “Santana’s pretty romantic when she puts her mind to it.”

Santana’s brows rise, same as Sugar’s.

“Really?” Sugar questions.

Brittany nods, “Believe me, it caught me by surprise too but she’s got a sweet side to her. It’s one of the many things I like about her.”

Santana finds her ego getting a good boost even if the compliment is made up.

“Santana’s a total teddy bear underneath her hard exterior,” Brittany adds as she smiles adoringly.

Sugar doesn’t look too convinced though, “Why can’t I picture that?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Probably because no one has ever made me feel the way Brittany has. She makes me want to do things different, things I wouldn’t do with anyone else. She makes me want to slow down.”

That seemed to resonate a little more with Sugar while Brittany squeezes at Santana’s thigh and coos.

“Oh honeybunch,” Brittany goes to pinch her cheek. “You know, just the other week Santana surprised me with a candle-lit dinner.”

“I did?” Santana accidentally blurts. Brittany gives her a pointed look and Santana quickly changes her tone, “That’s right, I did.”

Sugar looks between the two suspiciously.

“You should’ve seen it, Sugar,” Brittany says. “It was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, a little cliché but I loved it. There were rose petals and jazz and Santana cooked this beautiful meal. It was totally unexpected.”

Sugar blinks and looks to Santana, “You did that?”

Santana masks her slight surprise and sells it, “Anything for my girl.”

“I don’t know,” Sugar looks at them skeptically. “You don’t do romance. You hate it.”

“I-I don’t hate it…”

“You do, you’ve specifically told me on numerous occasions that romance is for suckers.”

Santana smiles nervously at Brittany, but the blonde is quick to dispute Santana’s previous stance.

“Well, she’s definitely changed her stance,” Brittany says lovingly. “Show her the pictures.”

Santana looks back at her wondering if she forgot that they just made up this entire romantic moment on the spot and they’re aren’t any pictures. She of course can’t ask her so she has to be crafty.

“I don’t have any,” Santana thinks on her feet too. “I mean, I don’t have any that I could show her. Those pictures are for us.”

“Oh! That’s right,” Brittany goes along with it. “We just couldn’t help ourselves. We didn’t even eat until hours later.”

“Oh no, we ate.”

“Gross,” Sugar scrunches her nose. “Nevermind, this sounds accurate now.”

Santana laughs, “You should’ve been there. Actually, maybe not because there was a lot going on.”

Sugar starts to grimace again, “Please stop.”

“Brittany practically jumped me.”

“Did I?” Brittany challenges. “I recall you were the one doing the – “

“Okay, way too much info!” Sugar quickly interrupts.

“Sorry. Anyway, it was very pretty,” Brittany says.

“Probably some of my best work,” Santana adds.

Brittany agrees and goes to kiss Santana on the cheek, “You’re the sweetest.”

“You hear that?” Santana quips at Sugar. “I’m the sweetest.”

Sugar eyes the both of them as she sits back. “Shit. I guess this really is serious.”

\\

After their talk with Sugar, Santana and Brittany move about the other guests and mingle. By now, Brittany’s met most of Santana’s family and so far everyone seems to like her. Santana  knows from past experience that it’s still too soon to tell though, but Brittany seems to be holding up a lot better than she expected.

“For the lovebirds,” Sugar says as she waltzes over with a couple party crowns and hands them off.

“Nice!” Brittany grins happily and puts on the crown with ease.

Santana sighs, “These are so lame.”

“I’ll tell your mom you said that,” Sugar quips.

“Snitch.”

“Grump.”

“I like them,” Brittany interrupts with a flick at the crown, the new year in bulky, sparkly numbers. “I feel very festive.”

“Aren’t they? And they match your sweater which is super cute by the way,” Sugar compliments before looking to Santana. “I still don’t understand she’s with you.”

“You don’t need to,” Santana tells her before sliding her out the way in favor of standing closer to Brittany. “We should get our bubbles now. I see Abuela walking around with them.”

“There’s bubbles here too?” Brittany asks in surprise. “You guys really go all out!”

“I’m talking about champagne,” Santana replies with a smirk. “Come on.”

They leave Sugar once again and make their way over. Abuela’s returned to a small table lined with champagne flutes and holds a bottle of something expensive in her hands.

“Need a hand?” Brittany asks, ever so helpful.

Abuela looks between them and shakes her head before speaking to Santana, once again in Spanish only. Santana finds herself feeling a little annoyed by Abuela’s behavior, but she only listens and nods. She’s not trying to pick a fight and Abuela knows how to cause a scene.

Meanwhile Brittany looks away, attempting to mask the dejection.

“I said I understand,” Santana suddenly says. She softens when she realizes her tone and quietly takes the two flutes Abuela holds out for her and Brittany.

“Thanks,” Brittany says softly as Santana leads the way elsewhere. It takes her a moment before she asks, “What was that about?”

Santana shakes her head, “She’s just being petty.”

“Oh,” Brittany goes to take a sip of her champagne. “Is it me?”

“It’s not.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been trying to bond with her but the language barrier makes it a little hard. I didn’t know that she doesn’t speak English.”

Santana shakes her head, “Oh no, she does. She’s just fucking with you.”

“Wait what?” Brittany looks to Abuela in disbelief. “Why would she do that?”

“Like I said, she’s petty.”

Brittany looks back at her, wanting more information.

“She doesn’t think you’ll last,” Santana clarifies. “She’s tired of spending the time to learn someone new just to never see them again so…she’s just not going to do it this time. She’s not going to try.”

Brittany frowns and Santana actually feels a little bad about being so truthful. Her abuela is as stubborn as they come, so Brittany shouldn’t really take it that personally but the look on her face tells Santana she’s a little too late.

“Look, who cares what she thinks,” Santana reasons. “The person we really need to focus on convincing is my mom.”

Brittany nods, “Okay. Right.”

“Yeah, so don’t mind her,” Santana says and clinks Brittany’s flute with her own. “Drink up, I’m winning.”

“It’s always a competition with you,” Brittany smirks before taking another sip.

\\

For the next hour, they snack on all the various dishes and continue drinking until Eddie announces that they’re fifteen minutes away from ringing in the new year. Most of the guests have on some type of party hat or party glasses and Eddie goes to turn on the live stream of Times Square Ball Drop while flutes are topped up.

Santana and Brittany join the others as everyone migrates to the living room, everyone awaiting the screen to fill with the countdown.

“Do you have a resolution in mind?” Brittany asks.

Santana glances to her at the unexpected question, but Brittany’s eyes are focused on the screen before them.

Santana’s never been one to make a resolution because she doubts she’d ever commit to actually keeping it. However, for the sake of answering Brittany she thinks about it. Most resolutions are about losing weight or getting fit which doesn’t apply to her because she’s already got a smoking hot bod. Other popular resolutions relate to a career – which she doesn’t have yet – or her love life – which is set since she already has a fake girlfriend.

At a loss for an answer, Santana shrugs.

“I don’t think so,” She says. “How about you?”

Brittany shrugs too, “I don’t think I know yet either. Maybe travel more or learn a language? Something like that.”

Santana nods, “Well I can definitely help with the travelling one. Thank God I’ve got access to my dad’s frequent flyer miles.”

Brittany chuckles before they’re interrupted by Santana’s family beginning to count down the last minute before the new year. Santana laughs at their enthusiasm while Brittany joins in, shouting just as loud as everyone else. The walls are practically rattling as everyone counts down together.

“5…4…3…2…1!”

“Happy New Year,” Brittany tells Santana in a much calmer voice.

Santana replies, “Happy New Year.”

There’s suddenly an awkward tension between them because couples around are kissing each other, family members hug, meanwhile they just stand there not moving a muscle. Santana tries to relieve the tension before anyone notices and quickly kisses Brittany’s cheek.

“The cheek?” Sugar points out.

She’s hanging off her fiancé Brett – who really did turn up in time – and there’s a look of pure judgement on her face. She’s also drunk as hell, but Santana tenses at being called out anyway.

“Woah. Chill babe,” Brett tells her coolly.  

“You saw that right?” Sugar asks him.

“See what?”

“Honestly, Brett!”

The louder she gets, the more attention is pointed their way and it makes Santana feel even more antsy. Maybe this is it? Maybe this where they get found out? Santana can’t say they’re not into PDA because that’s so not her so what other excuse could there be?

“Just do it,” Brittany whispers suddenly.

Santana looks at her in surprise while Sugar’s wrapped up Brett trying to feed her a glass of water. She can’t have a whole debate with Brittany right now, she can’t point out that they’ve yet to kiss each other anywhere else besides the cheek, she can’t opt for a different way out because the blonde is already pulling her in.

Brittany’s hand cradles Santana’s cheek while the other falls to her waist. It’s hard for Santana to stay in character because she really didn’t anticipate having to do something like this in front of everyone – which is pretty silly considering it’s New Year’s Eve and people usually kiss their partners.

God, why didn’t she think of this?!

There’s no time to beat herself up about it though. She braces herself, giving Brittany total control for the first time.

The last thing she sees is piercing blue eyes flickering between hers before they flutter shut.

The next thing she feels are the soft lips pressing into hers with a kind of gentleness that she isn’t used to. What Santana’s used to is hard and fast, all teeth and an insatiable need – not this…tenderness.

Then just as fast as it happened, it’s over.

Brittany pulls away, blinking slowly while Santana does the same. There’s a split second where those around them cheer – even Sugar – but Santana doesn’t really hear it. She’s too busy staring at Brittany, still in complete disbelief that she just did that.

She just kissed her.

Once the novelty wears off, everyone goes back to mingling with each other around the house while Santana and Brittany stay put.

“I’m surprised I didn’t throw up,” Brittany comments lowly.

Santana’s taken aback by the comment and snorts, “I’m a little nauseous if I’m being honest.”

“Oh really?”

“It was a real struggle for me.”

Brittany snorts this time, “How do you think I feel? I thought you were meant to be the experienced one, but kissing you was like kissing a wall – you didn’t even move!”

“I was clearly taken by surprise…”

“Bullshit. I gave you a signal.”

“What?” Santana laughs, “What signal?”

“The look,” Brittany recreates a stare that doesn’t really give Santana much.

“Was that it?”

“Yes!”

“It’s not a very good signal.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Seriously though…that was a close one.”

“Very,” Santana agrees.

\\

Santana and Brittany hang around downstairs awhile longer before guests begin to head home for the night. With a late morning flight the next day, Santana and Brittany retreat to Santana’s room too to get ready for bed.

Again, they do their familiar dance of taking turns in the bathroom and getting changed into their pajamas in private until they find themselves standing in front of the bed. Santana glances to Brittany, seeing if she’ll be setting up the makeshift bed again.

She gets her answer when Brittany reaches for a couple pillows and starts pulling off the comforter.

“Really?” Santana jokes as she plops down on the bed. “Can I at least get another pillow?”

Brittany shakes her head as she builds her nest of cushions and blankets.

“You’re up there and I’m down here on the floor,” Brittany replies. “Who needs more pillows?”

“You chose to be down there.”

“Because I’m not getting in a bed with you.”

“So you’ve said a million times,” Santana replies as she gets comfortable under the covers.

“Well get used to it because it’s not happening,” Brittany tells her. “Ever.”

“You know, you’re probably the first person that has said that to me?”

Brittany snorts, “With your reputation, I believe it.”

Santana’s jaw drops a little, “Ouch.”

Brittany pokes her head up from the end of the bed, “Don’t act like your feelings are hurt.”

Santana raises her chin, “They’re not.”

Brittany eyes her before sinking back down. Once she’s out of sight, Santana slumps wondering why the brunt of how everyone views her actually relies on other people. Her mom and Abuela, even Brittany, don’t see her for her but instead the people she surrounds herself with.

It starts to really set in that her accomplishments, her fantastic grades, her near perfect GPA don’t seem to mean much when she has the kind of reputation she does. Does no one see how ridiculous that is? It’s her personal life, so what if she doesn’t want to be tied down?

She can understand her mom and abuela taking that stance, because they’re old school but Brittany too? Not that she cares about her opinion, but she figured she’d have a different point of view considering she wasn’t raised in the dark ages.  

Apparently though, it doesn’t matter and the frustration she feels upon the realization keeps her up for another hour or so before she finally tires herself out.

\\

Despite the late night, Santana awakes earlier than usual. She finds that even Brittany’s still asleep before she quietly sneaks out of the room and heads downstairs. She can hear Maribel in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee fills the air.

“This is a sight,” Maribel notes from her spot at the counter.

Santana just grunts and scuffles her way over to the coffee pot where a mug awaits her.

“Hungry? I’ll make some breakfast soon.”

Santana shakes her head, “This will be okay for now.”

Maribel hums and together they sit at the counter and sip their coffees in silence. Santana’s slowly starting to feel like a person again as the brew goes down, but Maribel doesn’t let the silence stick around.

“So Brittany,” She says.

Santana’s brows rise as she glances to her mom. She couldn’t even last five minutes without bringing up her relationship.

“I think she’s really lovely,” Maribel admits. “Not the usual kind of girl you bring home, but it’s a nice change. A welcomed change.”

Santana nods, biting her cheek in the process because those feelings she fell asleep to are still strong. The last thing she wants to talk or even think about is how happy Maribel is with Santana solely because she with Brittany now. Yes, that’s the point but it still.

“I just hope that she’ll stick around a little longer,” Maribel adds.

“She will,” Santana answers resolutely.

Maribel only sips from her mug slowly.

\\

A few hours later, Santana and Brittany are on their flight back to campus.

Like the first flight over, Brittany’s tense until they get to cruising altitude and she can busy herself with homework.

Santana on the other hand keeps her earbuds in and tries tuning out the world. Unlike before, Santana doesn’t have any interest in helping Brittany cope with her dislike for flying. She just wants to listen to her music and disappear in a bag of gummy bears after an exhausting past couple of days.

Not that they were physically exhausting, but try pretending to be into someone as annoying as Brittany. It’s a lot of work, especially for Santana, and she’s just about hit her breaking point.

She does pretty well in holding everything inside until Brittany leans over the arm rest that separates them, breaching her personal bubble. Her hand is going for Santana’s bag of gummies and like a spoiled toddler Santana jolts the bag away before Brittany can reach it.

“Can I help you?” Santana snaps.  

Brittany frowns, “Are you really not going to share?”

“These aren’t for you.”

“What happened to what’s mine is yours?”

Santana gives her a look, “We’re not married. We’re barely even dating.”

Brittany’s frown deepens and the way she stares makes Santana focus hard on the bag in her hands. But even when she avoids eye contact, Santana can still feel the judgmental glare.

“Can you stop staring at me?”

Brittany huffs, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s your problem with me?”

Santana scoffs, “That’s a pretty loaded question.”

“Well, answer it because I’m sick of the attitude.”

For Santana, those words are like lighting a firecracker within her.

“You wanna know what my problem is?” She snaps. “Ever since you transferred to Columbia you have been nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“It’s like you’ve made it your mission in life to one up me every chance you get,” Santana tells her. “I used to have the highest GPA and I was on track to be valedictorian until you came along. You know how it feels to work your ass off to get to where I am only for it to be taken away? A second time? I bet you don’t.”

Brittany slumps in her seat, “I-I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Santana doesn’t hear her reasoning. The floodgates within her have been blown wide open.

“Not to mention your head is so far up Professor Martinez’s ass you might as well wear it as a hat!”

Brittany stiffens, “You don’t know a thing about me, Santana.”

“Please,” Santana scoffs. “I know your type. Pretty, blonde and smart? You’re the epitome of privilege.”

Brittany’s jaw drops but she quickly grits her teeth, “And what about you? Hot-headed Latina with a chip on her shoulder because she was probably burned by someone like me in the past?”

Santana’s taken aback, but there’s no way she’s going to waver in front of Brittany. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Brittany sees the crack in Santana’s façade.

“See? I can stereotype too,” Brittany tells her upon the silence.

Santana shakes her head, “I don’t need this.”

“There you go quitting again,” Brittany points out. “Probably a result of this girl. God, she really must’ve done a number on you. Makes sense why you can’t commit to anything.”

“Why are you so sure there’s a girl?”

“There’s always a girl.”

Santana feels like she’s beneath a microscope, but she looks back at Brittany challengingly.

“Well congrats, Brittany. You’ve got me all figured out. Great job,” Santana replies, her words full of sarcasm.

Brittany shakes her head, “You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re afraid,” Brittany tells her simply. “And it’s so obvious. You’re afraid of commitment. You’re afraid of opening up. You’re afraid of your own mother because if you weren’t we wouldn’t be in this mess. You wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Santana bites her cheek even though Brittany’s words really struck a nerve within her. She can’t react though, she can’t let Brittany know that she has successfully landed a blow. So Santana does what she does best and retreats.

“You’re lucky we’re stuck on this stupid plane together because the moment it lands, that’s it,” Santana tells her. “This is over. I’m done. I don’t care about the job or what my mother thinks. It’s not worth the headache of being stuck with you in this stupid relationship!”

“Good!”

“Fine!”

“Great!”

The two of them practically huff and cross their arms, turning away from each other since they can’t stomp off for dramatic effect. The silence is heavy and thick though and it only intensifies the longer it weighs down on them.

Santana knows she might blowing things out of proportion, they both might be guilty of that, but how else was she meant to react? In reality, she knows she can’t give up this easily. They’ve already laid down the ground work, she can’t let it be for nothing.

Swallowing pride has never been something Santana’s particularly good at doing, but she needs to figure it out before their plane touches down. She just hopes that whatever the reason might be that Brittany’s doing this is enough for her to give this a second try.

“Look,” Santana says timidly a long while later. “I’m sorry for how I acted.”

Brittany glances to her but doesn’t say a word.

“I know I can be a bitch sometimes and it’s something that I struggle with,” Santana admits. “But from now on, I can try to be less of a bitch to you. That is if you want to keep doing this, because as much as I hate to admit it – I can’t do this without you.”

Brittany mulls it over before nodding, “That was a much better apology.”

Santana’s smiles back in relief. There’s a somewhat more relaxed quiet, but it doesn’t last very long.

“I’m sorry for what I said before,” She says. “About you being afraid. That wasn’t very nice.”

Santana smirks, “Honestly, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah,” Brittany sighs. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t even know if there is a girl. I guess I was on a roll, being around you really brings it out of me I think.”

Santana chuckles lightly, “Well…there was a girl so you weren’t entirely wrong.”

Brittany turns to her with brows raised, but Santana keeps her eyes averted elsewhere.

“Well, while we’re on the topic of not being wrong,” Brittany pauses. “I am a little bit of a kiss-ass in Professor Martinez’s class.”

“I knew it.”

“I just never had a teacher like him, okay? I might’ve gotten a little excited about it.”

“A little?”

“What?” Brittany replies timidly. “It’s nice to be praised for thinking outside of the box rather than being punished for not staying in it.”

Santana quirks her brow at that.

“For once, being different is seen as something good,” Brittany continues. “You have no idea what it’s like to be belittled, to be seen as this dumb blonde for so long just because my brain worked differently, to be pushed aside because no one thought I’d amount to anything.”

“But you said you went to MIT,” Santana replies. “Unless you were just saying that to impress my mom?”

“No, that was true,” Brittany nods. “MIT was where I realized I was gifted. It was like I went from one extreme to another. I went from no one caring to suddenly everyone caring. They didn’t care about me though, they cared about what I could do for them.”

Santana stays quiet and listens. She’s not familiar with this side of Brittany and if she’s being honest it’s kind of eye-opening.

“I didn’t know,” Santana replies softly.

“Most people don’t. I’ve had a lot of people just…give up on me,” Brittany tells her in a sigh. “You have no idea what that feels like, to be left behind.”

“Yeah,” Santana frowns as Brittany’s words strike a chord, “I kind of do.”

That takes Brittany by surprise, “Really?”

“Maybe not the same context but I definitely know the feeling,” Santana replies then holds out her bag of gummies to share. There’s a kind smile on her face for once as she says, “It sucks.”

Brittany looks down at the bag and smirks before she takes a couple pieces and pops them into her mouth.

“You know,” She says as she chews. “I kind of hate that we have this much in common.”

Santana chuckles, “Me too.”

#Hate to date #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #Fake Dating AU

[ackerslut]

we're living in a powder keg (and giving off sparks)

Fandom: Star Trek Lower Decks

Rating: M

AO3

Beckett Elizabeth Mariner wakes up with the absolute unshakable knowledge that she has done something unspeakable.

“Oh my fucking god.”

On the pillow across from hers, Brad opens his eyes. He blinks once or twice, squinting at the obnoxious sunlight streaming through the blinds. It creates bars of light slanting across the bed and floor. There’s a brief moment of confusion where he stares up at her owlishly before he groans and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. Clearly not shaken at all by the unspeakable horror coursing through Beckett’s veins.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God .”

“Please lower your voice,” he mutters, voice muffled almost beyond comprehension. Almost. “I think I have a migraine. Or a hangover.” A pause. “Or both .”

“Oh god oh god oh god-”

Beckett’s comm begins chirping on the nightstand, derailing her mental breakdown. She lunges for it, flips the device open and answers the call. “Yeah?”

“Beckett Mariner, where in god’s name are you?” her mother’s voice shrills across the tiny speaker. Not exactly the distraction she was looking for, but she’ll take it. “I’ve been calling you for hours. I swear to god if you’re in prison again-”

“I’m not in prison!” she hisses. “And that was one time!”

“Six times. In the last month.”

“I- mom -”

“We’re in Wvaxuv,” Brad snaps, snatching the comm out of her hand. “We’ll be there in fifteen. Over.” He snaps the comm shut, throws it at the nightstand on her side, and flops facedown into his pillow again. Beckett, both impressed by Brad hanging up on his captain and horrified by him hanging up on her mom , stares at him, mouth agape.

“You just hung up on my mom.”

“Mffffmmn.”

“My mom , Bradward.”

“Mm.”

“Your Captain .”

This does get a reaction out of Brad, but not quite the one she expected? He peeks one eye out of where he’s currently trying to become one with the bedding. It’s cute, in like a cat-like way. Which is exactly where Beckett is trying to keep her thoughts from going. There is nothing cute or nice about waking up in the same bed as Brad. There’s not.

“I think I’ll care about that when I’m sober,” he says, at last.

“You don’t care that you just hung up on my mom, but you know what city we’re in?” Beckett raises an eyebrow, both impressed and unimpressed. She contains multitudes.

“I always know where I am,” he mumbles, turning his face back into the pillow. “Also, it literally says in the tourist brochure on your nightstand.”

Beckett grins and then stops herself. “Okay, Mister ‘I always know where I am,’ how long will it actually take us to get back to the Cerritos ?”

“ Ten minutes if we get dressed like right now.”

She stops, face heating at the reminder that oh yeah they’re both fucking naked under the duvet. Beckett carefully inches away, toward her end of the bed, just in case. She casts a quick look around the room and locates her clothes on the floor, near the bathroom.

“Don’t look,” she warns. Threatens?

Brad gives her a thumbs up, seemingly content in continuing his faceplant. Beckett decides that she can trust him not to sneak a peak--not that it mattered at this point but she was not thinking about that --and hurriedly dives toward them and gathers them up. She throws them on the bathroom floor and slams the door shut.

“Oh my god.” Beckett stares at the yellowing tiled floor. “Oh my god .” She turns on the sink, cupping the freezing water in her hands and splashing it onto her face. It does little to clear her mind, but it does help with the hangover nausea. She grips the sides of the sink, breathing in and out slowly. After a few moments of this, Beckett finally dares to look in the mirror.

She’s looked worse. Especially after a night of getting blackout drunk. Her hair is down, out of its usual high ponytail. It’s also completely wrecked, she notes, running her fingers through it to pull out the tangles. She looks a little sweaty and her eyes are bloodshot with dark circles rimming them, but nothing about her appearance suggests that she did anything stupid or dangerous last night. All of her limbs and toes are accounted for. All things considered, it’s not that bad.

Well, except for the trail of hickeys going down her neck. Jesus , she thinks, straining her head around to see how far they go. Nevermind, she doesn’t really want to know. That’s definitely going to be a problem to examine later. Much, much later.

She quickly pulls her pants on, studiously ignoring her sore muscles and the purple bruises in other places besides her neck and shoulder. Fuck . She can hear her comm chirping again through the bathroom door, but doesn’t make any attempts to hurry and answer it. From the sound of things--or lack thereof--Brad isn’t making an effort either. He probably decided, as she has, that they can get reemed out when they actually get back on the ship.

Beckett pulls her tank top over her head, frowning when she realizes that it does absolutely nothing to hide the bruises on her neck. Where the fuck is her jacket? She pops back into the bedroom.

“Where’s my jacket?”

“You threw it in the Gezorvazors’ fountain.”

“And you didn’t stop me? Dude, that was my favorite jacket.”

He makes a vague hand gesture, still face down on the bed. “You can borrow mine.”

“Yours isn’t nice like mine is,” she snaps, picking his weird hoodie/jean jacket hybrid. “Mine is leather, and badass, and-” She slips his jacket on, pulling the collar up to hide the hickeys. “-And. Oh shit this is comfortable.” The fabric is soft in the way that clothes only get after you’ve owned them for years and years and ruined the fabric with too much fabric softener and shit. Also, it’s a little big around her shoulders, and Beckett’s kind of a slut for comfy clothes that are too big for her. “You’re not getting this back,” she realizes out loud.

Brad finally lifts his head off the pillow, eyes zeroing in on her. His face is unreadable. “Huh.”

“What?”

Her comm chirps again. Brad picks it up and throws it to her. “Call your mom.” He jerks his head toward the balcony on the other side of the suite. “Or don’t. Either way, we’re gonna be late.” He makes to get out of bed, which is Beckett’s cue to get the fuck out of there . She escapes onto the balcony which is less of a balcony and more of a ledge.

She flips the comm open and answers it.

“ Your mom is flipping out,” D’Vana says. “She thinks you went AWOL and kidnapped Boimler again.”

“Her thinking that is a thousand times better than what actually happened,” Beckett replies, relieved. “She’s not leaving, is she?”

“ Without you? Fat chance.” There’s a pause. “So are you gonna tell me what did happen-”

“Just a long night of drinking and bad decisions. I’ll see you back on the Cerritos, ” she swiftly interrupts. “If my mom asks, everything is fine. Don’t worry.” She hangs up over D’Vana’s sputtering protests. “Shit.” What was she going to tell D’Vana. What was she going to tell her mom?

A gust of cool wind blows through the street, cutting straight through her. She wraps the jacket tightly around her. It smells like Brad. “ Shit. ”

_____

Beckett sits in her mom’s ready room with a paper cup of coffee heating her hands. The smell isn’t doing great things to her nauseous stomach, but the warmth radiating through her fingers is soothing and the caffeine is knocking out most of her headache. Turn of the century and there still isn’t a definitive hangover cure for humans. Go figure.

Her mother’s slightly raised eyebrow is both a question and a criticism. She has too much tact to say that Beckett looks like shit, but they both know Beckett looks like shit. Damnit.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Freeman says at last, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Just please stop violating regulations while on shore leave.”

Beckett wants to ask if this means she can violate regulations while off shore leave, but feels too shitty to get into that argument. “You got it, Cap’n,” she says, instead of emoting. She gives her mom a lazy, two fingered salute.

“Also, please remember to keep up with your birth control, I don’t really need any Beckett/Boimler hybrids running around on this ship-”

“Literally what the fuck -” Beckett all but shrieks, voice way to loud for the hangover she’s sporting. “ Why would you even say-”

Her mom looks pointedly at Beckett’s bruised neck. “I’m not a complete idiot, kiddo.”

“Oh my god,” Beckett buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god .”

Freeman rolls her eyes, flicking her fingers at her daughter. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s my job to embarrass you. Now get out of my sight. And ask T’Ana for a hangover cure.”

This has Beckett sitting up. “Wha- T’Ana said there wasn’t a hangover cure .”

Flat look. “Beckett. What century is this?”

Beckett scowls at the desk. “Ripped off for five years and counting,” she mumbles.

_____

Avoiding Brad was harder than she thought it was going to be.

(Not that she’s avoiding him. She’s not.)

(She totally is. )

When he first came back to the Cerritos --almost two years ago now?--it had been easy. He’d been in a state of remorse/guilt, and had basically allowed Beckett to call the shots. This was generally considered a bad idea by absolutely everyone, because it meant that Beckett swung dangerously between watching his every move like a crazed stalker to having nothing to do with him. It had accumulated in Sam and D’Vana going the old-fashioned route by locking them in a storage closet.

Things had eventually ironed out after that. Nothing was ever quite the same--it couldn’t be with Brad’s newfound confidence and Beckett’s decision to see him as an equal rather than someone to mentor--but it was better that way. They worked better that way. At least until Beckett had fucked everything up by having drunk sex with her best friend of four years.

So here Beckett was, hiding in medbay because she thought she might have seen Brad walk by.

“You gotta admit, this is weird, even for you,” D’Vana says.

Beckett peaks over the biobed. “He’s gone, right?”

“Honey, what’s going on between you two? Do I need to fight him? I can totally fight him.”

“What?”

“I mean, the last time you were this mad at him was because--”

“I’m not mad at him,” Beckett waves her off, not too keen on dredging up ancient history. Shitty ancient history at that. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine,” D’Vana repeats dubiously. “Which is why you’ve been hiding in medbay--your least favorite place--all day. Instead of doing fun things, like moving everything in Ransom’s cabin a little to the left or putting extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

Beckett grins. “We should put extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.”

“ So are.”

Beckett scowls. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I am, as in I will help you bury the body if need be, but as it stands there isn’t a body to bury and you’re in my way.”

“Rude!”

“Coward.”

“Killjoy.”

“ Both of you, out,” T’Ana snaps, from like 20 feet away. She’s not even looking at them, but one of her ears is swiveled in their direction.

D’Vana gives Beckett a dirty look, turning on her heel and marching out of the medbay. Beckett follows, more subdued.

“Seriously, you need to get your shit together,” D’Vana says, once she’s caught up to her. “I promise whatever happened between you and Brad isn’t as terrible as you’re thinking. It’s probably even fixable.”

“Real encouraging, bestie.”

“I try.” D’Vana gives her a friendly punch on the arm that’s probably going to bruise. “Now go find your man.”

_____

Becket does not, in fact, “go find her man.” First of all, because she doesn’t have one, but also because the idea of facing Brad right now is so mortifying--seriously what is she supposed to say? --that the thought makes her break out in hives.

(Not literally, but still.)

A couple more days of this has Sam and D’Vana returning to the tried and true method of locking Beckett and Brad in a storage closet to sort out their shit.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” D’Vana shouts through the door.

Beckett flips her the bird, even though she can see, scowling at the door. “Fuck you, D’Vana Tendi!”

There is no response, meaning that her ex-friends have left her alone with her thoughts, Brad, and Brad’s very loud thoughts. Goddammit.

“Look, just say it,” Brad suddenly snaps after the longest, most awkward pause Beckett has ever had the misfortune to be a part of. His entire body is tenser than Beckett has seen in a hot minute. Probably since before he transferred back to the Cerritos.

“Say what?” she says back hotly, now not really sure if they’re about to argue about something, but also not one to back down from a fight.

“I don’t know-just. Whatever it is- just please. I’m tired, D’Vana’s tired--hell the whole ship is tired of this. So just.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it was bad, I know that you regretted it.”

“I. What.”

“But, you’re also my best friend and I don’t want things to go back to how they were when. When I came back and you hated me and I was shitty to you and-” Brad stops messing up his hair. “Just say it was awful and we can forget it ever happened.”

Beckett steels herself as she finally admits: “I don’t remember it.”

It was Brad’s turn to go still and quiet.

“Brad--I. You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Beckett has never felt embarrassed by her drinking habits, but now she wonders if she should. Okay, she’s not, not really. But she was at least regretful that she had done something so stupid as fucking up one of her best relationships while intoxicated. Literally. “I don’t remember anything after the sixth drink,” she groans. “I think I was messing with your hair?”

“You said it was the color of jellyfish.”

She manages a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“And then I said jellyfish were translucent and have been extinct for over a thousand years on Earth so your point was redundant and that’s when you kissed me.”

“Oh.” Beckett wracks her memory. Nothing comes up. She doesn’t know if she feels proud or scared by the fact that she was the one to initiate whatever happened between them. “Was it. Good?”

“For me.” Brad shrugs, nonchalant in a way she wishes he weren’t. “Can’t really say if you liked it or not. Rest of the night is.” He makes a gesture with one hand. “Fuzzy.”

“But you remember more details than I do.” Beckett takes a step toward him.

He takes a step back as she crowds his space. Swallows. “Guess I do.”

“Was that good? What came after?” she asks, steadily, taking another step toward him.

His back hits the wall. He makes a little oof sound, maybe at the impact, but more likely at her question. “I-it was fuzzy ,” he reiterates, voice pitching up.

“Just answer the question, Bradward. I thought this was honesty hour for-”

“Yes it was good!” he snaps. “It was awesome, and earth-shattering, and all the stupid fucking cliches we both make fun of and mock together, and-and you didn’t care the next morning! Actually, no, you were fucking horrified-- so I panicked and--”

Beckett kisses him. It’s a short peck, hardly a brush of lips really, but enough to leave him gaping like a fish after. Kind of shocked, like a computer bluescreening. Goddamnit, he is cute.

“I. I- what .”

Beckett carefully leans in, brushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand--giving him time to opt out or push her away if he wants-- and kisses him again. This time she goes a bit more slowly, somehow coaxing his panicked mind into letting him kiss her back. Only for a moment, sadly. As soon as he begins softening against her, mouth opening slightly to kiss her back, he draws away, face disturbed. “Beck, what are you doing?” His voice is weak.

“Experimenting,” she replies, eyes quickly darting back and forth between his.

“ Experi -”

“I mean, there must be a reason I jumped straight from drunken makeout to lets fuck on our last night of shore leave. I’m just trying to find the missing puzzle piece.” She leans back in. Kisses him again. Pulls back almost immediately. “That means kiss me back, dumba-”

Brad cups her face and kisses her back. Like really kisses her back. Like tilts her face to the side until the angle is just right and slips his tongue in to slide against hers-

“Fuck,” Beckett says, when they draw back for air. “ Fuck.”

Brad drops his hands, but makes no move to pull out of her space. “Got enough data?” he asks sarcastically.

“I might need a larger sample size,” she says breathlessly, eyes darting back down to his lips.

“Well, feel free to go makeout with whomever-”

“Not that kind of sample size, dummy. I'm working with just one test subject, you see.” Her hand fingers the top button of his shirt almost thoughtfully. “My sample size needs to be bigger in quantity, not diversity.”

“ Beck- ” he whines.

“What, so you get to remember this awesome, showstopping one-night stand while I wonder forever if you're actually as good as my sore everything implies?”

Brad’s face visibly heats up. “Well, it's not a one-night stand if we do it again, is it?” he mutters.

“No,” Beckett replies curtly, making her eye contact as direct as possible. “It's not.”

“And you really want to fuck in a storage closet.”

“It can't be much worse than on a planet of jellybean aliens.”

“Gezorvazorians,” he corrects. Pauses, considering. “It might not be that good sober.”

“Are you seriously trying to talk me out of having sex with you?” Beckett groans again in exasperation. “This is literally a one time, limited offer, Bradward.”

“I have anxiety, Beckett! It was fine when I was on drink number eight, but I'm going to freak out if I do this without-”

“Oh my god, just stop thinking-” she shoves him back into the wall, hands fisting his stupid Starfleet shirt, “-just do what feels good.”

Apparently what feels good is letting Beckett once again call the shots on this one, like she does on everything. He lets her crowd him back against the wall, pop each of his shirt buttons and makeout as aggressively as they can while still standing upright.

“For the record,” she says, in between kisses, “if you don't want to have sex with me, that's a hundred percent fine, I don't want to pressure you-”

Brad rolls his eyes. “You really gotta-” kisses her again, “make up your mind-” her hand pulls at the short hair on the nape of his neck, eliciting a high pitched noise “- getting mixed signals-”

“My mind is made up, it's just that I realized that I maaay have been a bit pushy-”

Brad pulls away to give her a deadpan expression. “Yeah, if there's one thing I do remember about you in bed, it's that you're kind of pushy. Actually, scratch that, you’re relentless.”

Beckett flushes. “I-”

“I don't mind. Just as long as you're sure.”

“I am,” she meets his gaze challengingly, fighting her blush down.

“Cool.” He nods once, curtly. The image doesn’t exactly mesh right with his disheveled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “Cool, cool, cool. I'm probably going to freak out in the middle of this, fyi.”

“Don't say ‘fyi,’ it's lame.” She glances around the room. “So. Floor or wall?”

_____

They don't actually fuck in the storage closet, much to Beckett's disappointment and everyone else's general embarrassment. D’Vana in particular is going back and forth between remorse and spastic giggling. It’s just as well. Brad really couldn’t stop laughing at her after her “floor or wall” comment which made getting laid kind of hard. No pun intended.

_____

The next few days are kind of a living hell for the Cerritos. Which is unbelievable, considering how weird Beckett and Brad had made it for everyone before their conversation in the storage closet.

It really really doesn’t help that Brad’s bunk is like. Right over hers. Goddamnnit.

“Good news is we have shore leave again in three weeks,” Jennifer says, handing her a wrench.

Beckett, who’s holding a screwdriver in her mouth, makes whahed? noise, eyes glued to the charred remains of the food replicator. Jen leans back against the counter casually, flipping her silver hair over her shoulder. She’s not really helping Beckett, just watching while she takes advantage of her own buffer time. Beckett doesn’t mind because a) everyone’s entitled to their own buffer time and b) Jen isn’t bad company. At least when she isn’t involving herself in the soap opera worthy drama that is Beckett’s life. Like right now.

Jen gives her a bemused look. “You don’t have to tell me what happened last time,” she says, which is great because Beckett has no intention of bringing up the events of their last shore leave, “But you want my advice? Fix it this time. For everyone’s sake.”

Beckett takes the screwdriver out of her mouth and places it on the counter. “I literally have no idea what you are talking about,” she says in lieu of feeling an emotion.

“Me neither,” Jen admits, sighing. “Look, I don’t put much stock in the rumor mill, but even I know there’s something going on between you and Boimler.”

Oh. Shit.

“Oh, shit,” Beckett says.

Jen grins. “Yeah, shit Mariner. Who’d have thought: you and Brad Boimler. Six years ago, I’d have laughed in your face.”

Beckett makes a face. It’s not a laughing one. More of a grimace, really. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“With you it rarely is.” Jen looks wary, but the corners of her eyes still crinkle with amusement. “I’m just saying, I know something’s up. Don’t really care, but it’s making this ship socially awkward. I refuse to work somewhere socially awkward, Mariner.”

“Oh, we are in agreement,” Beckett quickly defends, holding her hands up.

“Good, then fix whatever the fuck’s going on. I can’t take much more of this.”

Beckett doesn’t have much to say to that. Mostly because she’s in total agreement, but also because that’s the moment D’Vana comes around the corner and she’d rather not get Into It with the perky Orion today.

_____

It’s Sam who brings it up. “So, shore leave on Earth,” he says. “Who’s down?”

The four of them are sitting at the bar, pretending like nothing weird is going on between two of their members. It helps that Sam is sitting between her and Brad, but it also doesn’t because he keeps catching them staring at each other. It’s super fucking awkward, so Beckett takes the opportunity to direct their attentions elsewhere.

She groans loudly, dropping her face onto her folded arms. “If I wanted to be on Earth I wouldn’t have joined Starfleet,” she grumbles. “This fucking sucks.”

D’Vana perks up immediately, like Beckett knew she would. “I love Earth!” she says, enthusiastically gesturing with her martini glass. “So many different cultures and languages and religions on one planet. If I wasn’t stationed in deep space, I’d have asked for a position there.”

“All those religions and cultures and shit is why Earth has a reputation of not getting along with itself,” Beckett mumbles into her arm.

“That’s not specific to Earth though,” Brad points out, pretty much speaking for the first time that night. He looks a bit surprised, like he hadn’t meant to talk to her at all or make eye contact. Which was most likely the case, considering. Still, he pushes on. “I mean, how many interplanetary disputes have we broken up in the last year alone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t come from those planets so I don’t have to feel bad about it,” Beckett mutters.

Sam snorts. “So is that a no?”

Beckett shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Will there be alcohol?”

“There can be.”

She flutters her eyelashes at Sam. “Well, if you insist then.”

Brad and D’Vana exchange a look.

_____

Earth isn’t too bad.

Beckett should know, she was born there.

The distinct lack of shenanigans she can get up to are fairly disappointing, however. And the distinct presence of cops is still as annoying as ever. But Sam drags the four through downtown San Francisco, intent on making the most of it.

He is determined to teach D’Vana how to surf, so they find themselves at one of those swim stores--the ones that smell like chlorine and weed and have like a display of goggles that takes up two entire ailes and the walls are covered in surf boards and body boards, and there’s little naked mermaid figurines everywhere. It’s one of those out-of-this-world vibes that has Beckett remembering the little things about earth she misses.

Sam somehow cuts a deal on four surf boards and some swim trunks for him and Brad. Beckett, who had the foresight to bring her own swimwear, doesn’t spend a dime on anything but the salt water taffy up at the front counter. D’Vana, who showed up for shore leave already in a bikini and has chronic steal Beckett’s food syndrome, walks out of there the least broke.

“So we want to start in the whitewater,” Sam says, rubbing copious amounts of sunscreen on D’Vana’s back. It’s a wise move, considering the last time they spent free time on a sunny planet, D’Vana walked away with the worst sunburns. “That way we can work on your stance without any pressure.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Beckett flips her shades down. “I’m heading out for the Big Bois. The Chungos, if you will.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Have you ever surfed before?”

“Does doing handstands on a floatie in my pool count?”

“No.”

“Then listen to the expert. We also probably don’t want to go way out until we get wetsuits. Trust me on that one,” Sam says, grimacing. “I mean, I’ve gone without, but it’s cold as shit out there.”

Beckett snatches the sunscreen from Sam’s hand and squirts a glob on her calf. “Fine, defeat me with your logic. You want some of this, white bread?” she asks Brad, who very much lives up to said nickname. He sighs, accepting the bottle from her.

All sunscreen up, Sam stands, picking up his surfboard. “I’ll take D’Vana out first,” he says in a blatant show of favoritism.

Brad and Beckett roll their eyes in tandem. “Whatever,” Beckett says, shooing them off with one hand. “I’m taking a nap.” She flops down on a towel under the giant umbrella that D’Vana got from god knows where . Brad looks from her to Sam and D’Vana unsurely before deciding that he’ll strike out on his own for a bit.

“Don’t drown,” Beckett says, already half asleep.

“Duh.” She can practically hear his eye roll. “Remember to wake up in two hours and apply more sunscreen,” he shoots back.

She gives him the o-k hand signal, not opening up her eyes. “You got it, Mom.”

_____

A few hours later--way past when Beckett was supposed to dump more chemicals on her skin (and yes she’s going to be feeling that later)--Beckett wakes up to Sam and D’Vana’s dulcet tones. By dulcet tones she actually means they’re belting out I’ve Had the Time of My Life in tandem with the music booming on the speaker Sam brought because they are those annoying beach people .

D’Vana must’ve gone to one of the street vendors on the boardwalk, because she has a tray of tiny sandwiches and a paper bag of popcorn that she’s sharing with Sam. Beckett tries to get in on that action, but because D’Vana is the biggest hypocrite Beckett knows, she finds herself banned from the snacks.

“You and Brad can get your own,” D’Vana says stubbornly.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “Where is he, anyway?”

D’Vana points vaguely off in the direction of the water. Brad is sitting on his surfboard, looking more relaxed than Beckett’s seen him in a while.

She stands up, stretching out the kinks and stiffness in her joints, grinning when Sam winces at the cracking of her spine. Shaking the fogginess away, Beckett makes her way out into the waves, shivering at their chill. In a stroke of genius, or maybe just chaotic evillness, Beckett ducks under the water, swimming beneath where Brad is peacefully sitting.

“Nice view,” Beckett says, bursting out of the water. Brad flails, arms pinwheeling. He does fall off his perch on the surfboard, but Beckett catches it before the waves can take it away. She heaves herself gracefully over the side, sitting with her legs in the water. After a moment she offers a hand to a very sulky looking Brad, who’s usually coiffed hair is plastered to his skull by the water.

He takes her proffered hand and sits beside her.

After a moments pause, where they sit bobbing in the waves and watching the sunset, Brad says, “I would like to say that not even the holodeck can recreate colors like that buuut-”

“We do have top-of-the-line technology,” Beckett agrees. “It’s still nice knowing it’s real, though,” she adds.

“How sentimental of you,” he says, almost teasingly. It does wonders for the tension Beckett’s holding.

“Shut up,” she gets out, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly. It’s not hard enough to push him back in the water, but it’s enough that he swats her off. “I’m just saying .”

“So Earth isn’t so bad, after all?” he asks, smug.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “I guess ,” she allows, grudgingly. “But don’t go telling anyone.”

Brad just grins, turning back to the sunset. They don’t say much more after that.

_____

Beckett is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the hotel they’re staying at overnight, when she comes to a decision. “I’m going to have sex with Brad.”

D’Vana, who Beckett had been pretty sure was sleeping, chokes in the dark. “Beckett what the fuuu -”

Beckett sits up. “I’m going to have sex with Brad,” she reiterates, throwing the covers off.

The bedside lamp clicks on, washing the room in a pale, yellow light. D’Vana’s expression is somewhere between I’m too sleep-deprived to deal with this shit and a murder is happening tonight .

“Like, right now?” she asks, finally.

“No time like the present,” Beckett says, already halfway out the door. Whatever protests D’Vana has is cut off when the door slides shut behind her. Sam and Brad are staying just across the hall, so it takes no time to get there and knock on the door.

“So are we gonna fuck or what?” Beckett asks the minute Brad shows his face. Sam makes a choked, gagging noise from somewhere behind him. Brad makes an equally despairing sound.

“Sam, could you-?”

“Gone! I'm gone.” Sam pushes past them, heading for the other suite. “I'll just sleep with D’Vana-- in D’Vana’s room!” He hurriedly course corrects, “In her room. I'm--I'll. Bye.” He ducks behind the door, slamming it.

“Yeesh, my girl ain't getting any tonight.”

“But we are apparently,” Brad dryly remarks. Or tries to dryly remark. It comes out strangled. “I thought that was a limited offer.”

“Yeah well, maybe I changed my mind. Are you gonna invite me in or what?”

Brad opens the door wider. “I didn't know you needed a literal invitation like some sort of vampire.”

“I was being polite.” She brushes past him. “I am capable of that on occasion.” She flops on the bed with forced bravado. Brad starts doing that thing where he avoids eye contact but realizes it's awkward so he then makes too much eye contact. Beckett resists the urge to tease him about it, if only because she's starting to feel weird about everything too.

“I’m not saying no-”

“Jesus, okay, rejection time-”

“But right now might not be the best time,” he finishes, face crimson.

“What?” She glances around the room. “Master suite in a five star hotel in San Francisco is a worse time for you than a storage closet? I didn't know you had an exhibition thing-”

“ I don't.” Brad scowls. “I'm just not in the mood.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she says, leaning back with her hands supporting her behind her. She kind of feels like an asshole for just assuming he’d be down anytime. There’s another moment of silence. Awkward.

Then, “I have some old timey soap-opera that Jen gave me, on my padd. You down?”

_____

“I don’t think this is a soap opera,” Brad says, ten minutes into their third episode.

They’re both lying on top of the covers, padd propped on a pillow, watching a collection of random episodes Beckett seemingly has. There’s about four feet of yawning distance between them, four impossible feet that’s frankly starting to piss Beckett off for reasons she’s trying not to examine.

“He’s married to his best friends’ daughter which means his mother-in-law made out with him,” Beckett replies, rolling her eyes. “His wife and her parents are pretty much the same age. He gets assassinated by his wife who was trained by a cultist group to take him down. How is that not a soap opera?”

Brad shrugs. “It just seems to be more action based.”

“Give it time, you’ll get it.”

Silence as they watch the main characters get chased by dinosaurs. Brad, surprisingly, does not offer up why it’s unrealistic--(she can totally hear him lecturing on about how dinosaurs actually had feathers, Beckett, and that one was definitely bipedal why is it on all fours?)-- instead tapping his fingers against the mattress and occasionally spacing out.

Whatever. Beckett’s perfectly comfortable reclining on the other side of the bed and ignoring him.

“It’s not me, right?” she blurts out. “I didn’t like, push you too much and now you want nothing to do with me?”

Way to sound insecure, Mariner.

Brad startles in surprise. “What? No!” He sits up. “Why would-”

“I don’t know, it’s just weird! And we’re not weird like this--we watch shit all the time together and make fun of it and it’s not socially awkward!”

“I’m not trying to be socially awkward! I just-”

“Well you are -”

“I thought you were mad at me ?” He tries, looking askance.

Beckett blinks across the bed at him. “You thought-- what --that I was mad at you for not being up for-”

“If you make that pun, I swear to god-”

“Not a pun, I’m being literal-you thought -”

“Beck-”

“You thought I was upset that you aren’t in the mood for-for my weird need to-to-” She can’t even finish it.

“Ughrhrh.” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “It sounds bad when you say it out loud.”

“Yeah no shit, Bradward.” She huffs loudly, turning back to the episode only to find that it’s over.

“Sorry,” he says at last, still into his hands. “I’m having a weird night.”

Aaaand now Beckett feels like shit. Because of course she was making everything about her when there were other people emotionally involved. God she needed to talk to her therapist.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks, nervously tapping her foot at the air.

Brad drops his hands, staring at her flatly. “Do you really want to hear my weird TMI relationship hangups?”

Oh fuck, it’s gonna be that kind of talk.

“Uh, yes? I tell you my weird shit all the time-”

“ Unsolicited -”

“And you don’t give a shit. Why would I be upset about you telling me your weird shit? Is it a kink thing? I bet it’s a kink thing.”

“It’s not a-! Just-just let me talk!”

Beckett makes a phhhft- ing noise, but relents. She twiddles her thumbs for a moment, a mannerism she picked up from D’Vana over the years. Brad’s eyes zero in on the motion for a moment, as he nervously begins tapping his fingers against the mattress again and then stopping to clasp his hands tightly.

“You know how I don’t really. Date people?” he tries, wincing slightly.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugs.

“Have you ever wondered why-”

“Because our friend group is so batshit fucking certifiable that any potential boyfriends or girlfriends get scared off. It’s why Amina and I were never gonna get back together.” Beckett doesn’t say duh , but it lingers in the air.

Brad rolls his eyes. “ Yes that, but also I don’t date people for the same reason it took D’Vana six years to figure out she and Sam were dating.”

Oh.

“Oh. Oh .” Beckett blinks for a moment, world realigning. “Wait, how did I not know that about you? I know everything about you.” Which is entirely the wrong response to your best friend sharing something that personal, but Brad doesn’t seem to pick up on it so Beckett thinks it’s okay. Hopefully.

“Apparently, not,” he replies, amused.

“But, you’re like. Okay hooking up every once in a while.” God, she hopes so. If she pressured her best friend into having drunk sex with her-

“Yeah, I’m in the mood every once in a while. Like, once a year kind of once in a while,” Brad says casually, alleviating her worries. “Just not right now.”

“Oh okay, cool.” A pause. “Thank you for telling me.”

He rolls his eyes again like she knows she’s going over every social media post and session with her therapist concerning how to handle your best friend coming out to you in her head and settles down next to her. “Whatever. What’s happening?” he asks, turning back to the padd.

Beckett apparently has episodes out of order because the main characters are hijacking the 1969 Earth space missions. “An alien race that controls humans through post-hypnotic suggestions is giving them the technology to land on their own moon.”

Brad huffs, amused. “Naturally.”

_____

Everything kind of goes back to normal after that.

Well, as normal as things get on the Cerritos .

Beckett takes her conversation with Brad to mean that he’s not interested in le sex with her (at the moment anyway) and backing off is in their best interests.

Whatever, she didn’t really know what she was going on about anyway. It’s not as if she was using not remembering their one-night stand as an excuse to hook up with Brad because she’s suffering from unacknowledged requited feelings.

(She’s not. She’s not . Goddamnit.)

The ship seems to give a collective sigh of relief, now that Beckett and Brad aren’t doing...whatever it was they were. Beckett is back to annoying the shit out of her best friend and Brad is back to pretending like he hates everything she stands for. It’s a comfortable equilibrium that Beckett’s glad to be back to.

Even if she still ponders all of the what ifs .

_____

If Beckett’s life is a movie--which is a metaphor she hasn’t used yet, but now’s probably the best time to start because the drama of hooking up with her best friend is totally some awkward comedy shit--then the Halloween party Sam and Jen throw is the punch line. Or the climax--whatever, no pun intended.

Beckett didn’t even know Halloween was like still a Thing until she and her friend group came across a Halloween themed shop during shore leave.

“Isn’t it July?” Beckett had pondered. “I’m pretty sure this holiday is supposed to be in October?”

“It’s one of those “Holiday in July” shops,” Brad said, rolling his eyes at D’Vana who’d donned a witches hat on and was cackling appropriately. “They were totally a thing when I was a kid.”

Sam pulled out his comm. “You know how Jen wanted to throw a party for the end of our assignment in the Neutral Zone? I think I know what theme we should go with.”

Beckett had laughed, delighted at the idea of them throwing a Halloween Bash on the Cerritos , but hadn’t taken it seriously until she walked into her favorite bar on the ship, which was now decked out in the most ridiculous decorations she’s ever seen.

“This is amazing,” Beckett says.

D’Vana grins. “Right? I think I’m going to marry Jen.”

“If I don’t get there first,” Sam retorts, darting off in Jen’s direction. D’Vana shouts after him, breaking out into a run. Beckett shakes her head and heads off to find a corner to enjoy her alcohol in peace.

She finds one, and gets through one red, plastic cup of cheap beer before Brad is at her shoulder.

“So, we’re done being weird, right?” Brad confirms. Surprised that he actually has the backbone to bring The Incident up, Beckett shrugs, eyes still on a dancing D’Vana. She’s somehow roped to humans into a weird-threeway dance that is honestly making Beckett wish she had a recorder device on her.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says. “Sorry for. You know.”

“It’s cool,” Brad replies, giving her a thumbs up. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually?”

This gives Beckett pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, someone in our friend group was eventually going to hook up and make everything awkward,” Brad rubs the back of his neck, laughing, well, awkwardly . “Sucks that it was us but,” he shrugs in a what can you do way.

Beckett nods back, almost absentmindedly. “Yeah. I mean. Yeah,” she finishes off, lamely and god this is awkward. “Could have been worse,” she finally settles on.

“Could’ve been me and D’Vana,” Brad agrees, nose wrinkling at the thought. She’s pretty sure he had a crush when they first met, but it mellowed out over the years. Especially after D’Vana made it clear to a handsy ensign that she was only interested in girls .

(And being in a co-dependent/queerplatonic relationship with one Samantha Rutherford, but that was beside the point.)

Still, something about the suggestion of the two hooking up leaves a sour pit in Beckett’s stomach.

“It’s too bad though,” she blurts out, “that it happened like the way it did.”

Brad pauses, brow furrowed.

“I mean,” she bulldozes on when he doesn’t say anything. “If I’d have had a choice on how it would have happened...I would have done things differently.”

“Oh?” Brad angles his body toward hers. She leans back against the wall, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds far away.

“How would you have done things?”

“I-” She fists her palms and then forces herself to relax them. “Well, for starters I wouldn’t have been drunk .”

“Ah.” Brad winces, probably remembering the terrible hangovers they had the next day. “Yeah that probably wasn’t the best -”

“And it would have meant something.”

There. She said it.

It’s what her mom’s been hinting at for years now, what D’Vana had been getting at and Jen and Sam and even Brad himself; the one truth that Beckett had been shoving to the back of her mind, since even before that shared night with Brad.

Brad Boimler is her best friend and she’s in love with him.

The pause goes on for too long. Beckett doesn’t dare look at him, doesn’t dare breathe. She keeps her eyes firmly on D’Vana, who’s been joined by a slightly tipsy Sam. They dance around each other, ridiculous and fond.

“It did mean something.”

Beckett whips her head around, meeting Brad’s gaze disbelievingly. He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Of course it meant something,” he says. “It was with you.”

Beckett likes to think that she’s smarter than the average person. And if not smarter, witty enough to pass as smarter. She has an automated response for every situation, a retort for every comment, a comeback for every line. There isn’t much that phases her-at least not until she woke up in a hotel room, naked, with her best friend at her side. And just like then, Beckett finds herself speechless.

“Oh,” she says, dumbly, as if she just hadn’t shown her own hand less than a minute ago.

“Mmm,” Brad agrees, looking stressed out. He doesn’t take it back though. He doesn’t do much of anything, actually, beyond staring at her intensely. Then, “Oh god, I made it weird again.”

“No, no,” Beckett holds her hands up placatingly as Brad begins to freak out. “ I made it weird first, you don’t have to-”

“Well I made it weirder!”

“No,” Beckett grabs his collar, shaking him slightly, “-no you didn’t -”

“ Then why are you freaking out? ” He throws his hands up in the air, almost dislodging her grip on his shirt. She tightens it, bringing him down to her eye level.

“I’m not freaking out you’re freaking out -”

“Then why are you the one all up in my personal spa-”

“I’m not-”

“ Jesus Christ , WILL YOU TWO JUST KISS!” D’Vana shouts over the booming bass of Spooky Scary Skeletons Communist Remix.

Beckett freezes , as does Boimler. She’s suddenly aware that the two of them are standing, nose to nose, practically shouting at each other--even though the loud music drowns out what they’re saying to the people around them (thank god).

Beckett slowly lets go of Boimler’s shirt.

“Uhm.” She blinks up at him, every part of her completely aware that she left the ball in his court last time they had an opportunity to do anything.

Brad looks like he’s wrestling with himself--not an uncommon emotion when it comes to the uptight little dude--eyes darting from both of her eyes to her lips, to over her shoulder where D’Vana is probably being a little creep. Then, all of the tension bleeds out of his body, all at once and a determined look lights up in his eyes.

“ Fuck it,” he says, cupping her face and kissing her.

_____

The walk from the bar to Beckett’s room has never seemed longer, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Even with the buzz of alcohol in her system, Beckett feels entirely present for once in her life. She pushes Brad back against her door, pressing kisses into his lips and the length of his jawline. He gives a little huff when she nips at his skin, pushing her off enough to get a good look at her.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer,” she replies, already having a go at his buttons. She gets down to the final one, pleased to note that this time they aren’t interrupted. “Are you sure?” she blinks up at him. “You’re in the mood, right?”

“Yes, Beck, I’m in the mood.” Brad rolls her eyes. It looks fond. “Are you in the mood?”

“So so in the mood,” she agrees.

“Great, now that we’ve covered the consent end of this-”

Beckett interrupts, diving back in for more kisses, much to his bemusement.

A few minutes later finds the two of them on her bed, sans their clothes. Beckett wants to feel very very smug about the fact that it’s been a while since that first, mistaken one night stand and Brad still has bruises in places unmentionable, but she’s kind of in the same boat.

“Holy shit, watch it ,” she swats at his face as he kind of nips at a dark bruise on her thigh.

“Oh I am .”

“Stop, that’s not sexy,” she kicks his shoulder, scowling when he snorts.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, no it’s not .”

“Yeah, okay, I stopped doing it .” Brad stares up at her unblinkingly for a moment.

Beckett stares back, arms folded-which feels weird because she’s super naked right now, but she’s already started doing it and Beckett fucking commits to shit-scowl firmly in place. Their little stare off only lasts for a minute longer before Beckett groans, “ Ugh , do it again.”

Brad does not, in fact, do it again because he's laughing too hard at her.

Beckett raises an eyebrow, flipping them over. Brad does not look like he minds, though, blinking up at her with equal amounts bemusement and what Beckett is assuming is appreciation. Whatever, it’s not as if Beckett doesn’t know that she’s smoking hot. It’s nice to see that Brad can acknowledge it though.

“Sooo,” he says, hands on her hips, steadying her as she grabs a scrunchy off the nightstand to pull her wayward hair out of her eyes. “How do you want to do this?”

Beckett takes a moment to make herself comfortable in his lap. “How did we do this last time?”

Brad’s face turns red. “Uhm, I’m not sure if-”

Beckett grins, leaning in. “How’d we do it last time, Brad?”

“ Beckett ,” he whines. She flicks his nose, but then leans in to give him a quick peck. “That’s cheating,” he tells her.

She shrugs, unrepentant. “Well you have all the time in the world to make an honest woman out of m-”

“ Stoooop ,” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “I hate you. Maybe we should ’ve been drunk for this.”

“I have tequila under the bed.”

“Why do you-nevermind.” Brad sits up, jostling her slightly. “I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Too much talking, more kissing,” Beckett says, pressing a couple of featherlight kisses on his lips. She gets her way--as always--and there’s very little talking after that.

(That’s a lie, of course, because it’s BeckettandBrad, meaning that there’s a lot shit-talk and laughing and an embarrassing amount of awkward moments where Brad elbows her in the eye or Beckett makes a noise that’s distinctly not sexy, but honestly? Neither of them would have it any other way.)

_____

The next day goes like this:

Beckett shows up to her shift 40 minutes late, a string of freshly made hickeys on her neck and a shit-eating grin on her face. Freeman takes one look at her and reassigns her off the Bridge for the day, muttering something incomprehensible about grandbabies that Beckett’s forcibly not thinking too hard about.

She finds D’Vana just outside of medbay, who looks utterly delighted by Beckett’s disheveled appearance.

“So, everything’s fine between you two?” D’Vana is grinning a little evilly.

Beckett throws an arm over her shoulder, delighted as always over their height difference. “Oh so fine, mi amore.”

D’Vana shoves her off, but looks just as pleased as Beckett feels. “Thank god,” she says. “I couldn’t take much more of your sad, sad faces. It was embarrassing.”

This gives Beckett pause. “Hey, we weren’t that bad,” she protests.

“Oh, you definitely were,” D’Vana promises. “There’s only so many times Sam and I can lock you two in a storage closet before our quaple isn’t worth it anymore. We were like a minute away from throwing you out of the polycule.”

“I- polycule? Since when -”

“Oh Beckett,” D’Vana sighs. “I have some bad news for you.”

“Did you know that we were in a platonic quaple with Sam and D’Vana?” Beckett shrieks, practically flying out of the turbolift.

Brad stares at her. “...yes?”

No one tells Beckett anything.

#marinler #my fic #beckett mariner #brad boimler #d'vana tendi #sam rutherford #the warp core four #star trek lower decks #stld fanfic #star trek lower decks fanfic #star trek lower decks fanfiction

[calpalsworld]

Got A LOT of asks about Wu and Garmadon and their shapeshifting in Ninjago Respun so heres a BIG answer instead

[spoilers for canon Ninjago lore, and minor spoilers for Respun lore since I’ll gradually explain this all in canon anyway. Only read this if you are DYING to know I guess?] [Whenever I say “we’ll talk about that later” that basically means I won’t talk about that further even if you ask, sorry D: Gotta wait for the comic to address that.] CONTEXT: The First Spinjitzu Master was SOOO strong. He was NOT supposed to exist, not just because of the eternal war between Oni and Dragon, but because sex between the two does NOT usually yield any Baby?! (Plus some other reasons ill talk about later). So like. Woaaah wtf? So.... that one baby? The First Spinjitzu Master? Yeah, he is a god! All the powers that dragons and oni have? He has them, and more.

SOME FIRST SPINJITZU MASTER DETAILS:

Dragons usually only have titles for names, so “First Spinjitzu Master” is literally his name.

He is immortal.

Oni are shapeshifters with no defined form. Dragons are shapeshifters too, but to a lesser extent (we’ll talk about that later). So the First Spinjitzu Master is a shapeshifter too. And so, humans are literally the fursona of the FSM.

He can create shit like its no big deal. He made the land, the plants, the animals, the people, the elements -- he made *almost* EVERYTHING in the realm of Ninjago (we’ll talk about that later).

Some aspects of Ninjago’s many cultures came from the First Spinjitzu Master -- from Oni and Dragon -- but other parts developed independently. In the Oni-Dragon language, “he” is a pronoun referring to Oni, and “she” is a pronoun referring to Dragons. There are other things too but that would take A LONG TIME to talk about... moving on...

HISTORY OF WU AND GARMADON’S SHAPESHIFTING AND ONI-DRAGON HERITAGE BIRTH | YEAR 0: So, the immortal Oni-Dragon named the First Spinjitzu Master, aka: God, decided to create people for his cool awesome realm. He wanted humans to be different from himself, but he also wanted a couple people who were just like him that could continue his legacy. He wanted people who could forever defend what he created. So he just mpregged himself and made two kids! Lying: He summoned them into existence, no pregnancy involved, sorry. Cries. The first he created was named Garmadon (named by himself), and the second he created was named Wu (named by his dad like a loser HAHA). Garmadon was born (created) in late winter, and Wu was born (created) in early summer. Wu and Garmadon are biologically identical to their father, half Oni, half Dragon, and immortal. But they are not as powerful as him. Beings equally strong as himself would be impossible for the FSM to create. His sons don’t have the same creation powers as him, but they have the same Oni and Dragon abilities. When Wu was born (created), Garmadon instantly chose to look almost identical to Wu. He previously had a different form that the First Spinjitzu Master designed for him, but fuck that (we call this becoming the realm of Ninjago’s first transgender person). At birth they looked and acted like they were around 3 years old. CHILDHOOD | YEARS 0-30: Wu and Garmadon’s physical forms are a conscious decision, but are also affected by their subconscious mental states. This caused them to age like MOSTLY like a normal child would... just a BIT slower. They also interacted mostly with people the same age as them, and chose to age like they did (we’ll talk more about this later). Garmadon got bit by the Great Devourer when he was 7. His eyes would look like he is really high sometimes (glow red) because of the curse, unrelated to shapeshifting. He also has a scar on his arm from the bite and the venom. It is usually very hard to scar an Oni/Dragon, but it was a powerful, long-term, magical wound. The bite caused him to become soooooooo angry and evil that he made up a Oni-persona because Onis look evil and cool. The two of them were always distracted by exploring the world, rather than questioning who they were. They just knew their father was from “outside the realm” and “half oni, half dragon.” They knew he and they could live forever, while others couldn’t, and knew they could shapeshift, while others couldn’t. But they never questioned him further, like.... they didn’t really care lol. Around 30 they looked/acted like they were around 15 years old (around 30 is when they met Aspheera btw). TEENAGE YEARS/YOUNG ADULTHOOD | YEARS 30-70: More adventuring and not caring about who they are. On one adventure, Wu got “crucified” by a village of people, Breaking-Wheel-Style on a Dharmachakra, while Garmadon watched and laughed. Eventually Wu and Garmadon met this woman on their adventures. [[Ninjago spoilers, cough cough --mystaké, --cough cough]]. She cryptically explained a few things: Dragon and Oni were at war in the past, Dragons create, Oni destroy, and currently the two species are dispersed across the realms. Wu and Garmadon’s father got mad at this lady for spilling all these beans, so she shut up about the dragon and oni shit, but still guided them in other ways for many many many many many many many many years to come. Around age 60, Wu and Garmadon looked about 30 years old. Their father passed on when they were 60, and the brothers began to diverge in the way they physically looked. Prior to this, they were near identical and relatively normal looking. My dearest apologies to those of you who love sexy 30 year old sensei Wu, buuuttttttttt, over the next decade, Wu became eldercore and wisdompilled as fuck. Meanwhile, Garmadon became a ripped 7′0 hottie (smh), who SLOWLY got older over centuries, paralleling Misako’s age. We’ll talk about Misako later. CENTURIES GO BY | YEARS 70-450: Btw, despite being really hard to scar, Wu got scars on his arms from another “crucifixion” at some point. (we’ll talk more about this later). .......More stuff happens.... not related to onis or dragons shapeshifting...... At age 450: -- oh crap GARMADON YOURE EVIL AF *banishes him*. We’ll obviously talk a LOT more about the banishment event later, ofc. Garmadon gets #pissed and so #fuck #anger #kill that he turns into his four-armed oni-persona. Wu and Garmadon know dragons. Wu hid the four golden weapons so Garmadon could never get them, and had dragons guard them. He is actually pretty tight with these dragons. They’re his friends. They were friends with Garmadon too. In the “Pilot”, “Weapons of Destiny”, Wu could’ve stopped these dragons from fighting the Ninja, but he wanted to test his students lmao. As for Oni, Wu and Garmadon (believe they) have never met a full-Oni. UP TO THE CURRENT DAY | YEAR 610. Most of Ninjago’s people know nothing about Oni and Dragons. Oni and Dragons are just mythological, often dismissed as fake. They don’t know Wu, Garmadon, and the First Spinjitzu Master are related to Oni and Dragon at all. Their origin doesn’t need explanation to most citizens. People just think, “Oh, The FSM, Master Wu, and Lord Garmadon? You mean God, Jesus, and Evil Jesus?” (Of course, the “Jesus” part is COMPLETELY non-diegetic, and they don’t actually call them that. They don’t know wtf Jesus is). I could go off about religion in Ninjago, but don’t get me started lol XD So, in conclusion, we got two immortal half-dragon-half-oni idiots that are worshipped by the average citizen. Wu is purposefully eldercore, and Garmadon is purposefully a ripped 7′0 oni-persona hottie. Post that explains rules of oni-dragon shapeshifting. That’s the lore at the moment. Any thoughts? Criticisms? Any other questions?

#sorry for inconsistent capitalization #deleting all asks on this topic now #this is p much everything i am ok with revealing about wu and garm ooc #but if anything is confusing feel free to ask and i might clarify

[makeste]

literally just a giant post of Bakugou faces.

today, 4/20 (actually it is very much still only 4/19 over here, but to heck with it, we’re getting an early start dammit), is Bakugou Katsuki’s birthday. and as someone who loves Bakugou and who also hasn’t found much worth rejoicing about in April 2020 in general, it’s important to me to celebrate the shit out of this day. but these are strange times and I am le tired, and so what my tired brain ended up arriving at was “just do a post about how much you love his stupid face.”

so these are my favorite Bakugou faces. I stopped after Kacchan vs. Deku because this post was already like 100k words (slight exaggeration) with like 40,000 faces (slight), and because this already took forever and the next 130-something chapters were only going to have about one fifth as many good faces compared to the first 120, even though there are some good ones there still to be sure. but anyway, so there are no spoilers here. 

happy birthday Kacchan, and happy birthday to Kacchan’s angsty side profile with his hair covering his eyes.

why I like it: he scured.

lol but seriously. because up until this point he’s just been a complete asshole. even after he gets grabbed by sludgeman, he’s all “AS IF I’D LET THIS MUDMAN TAKE MY BODY FOR HIMSELF”, and he’s all feral-looking, and at first you’re like “eh he’ll be fine.” but then along comes this panel to serve as our narrator saying “he was not fine.” because he really is not. and on the page before this too, you can see how tired and desperate his struggles are starting to get. and absolutely no one is trying to help him. and he’s fighting, he’s straining, but he can’t. fucking. breathe.

and then this panel. and he’s just a kid. he looks so very, very young here, like this is the youngest he looks throughout the entire series except for in his flashbacks, and it’s because all the pride and bluster and anger are stripped away and he’s just a boy underneath it and he’s scared. “you looked like you needed saving.” exactly. exactly. and for Katsuki to actually ask for help is so rare. so you know that when he does ask (and he absolutely was begging for someone to come help him even though he couldn’t vocalize it. credit to Horikoshi for conveying all of that emotion in a single panel), he really, really needs it. thankfully there was one person watching who finally snapped himself out of that “a hero’s bound to come along soon” mindset that had everyone else gripped, and realized that he needed to be that hero.

why I like it: because he’s humiliated and fairly shaken up and also the most handsome he’s looked up until this point, but most of all he’s just chewing his lip and being all “god fucking dammit did fucking Deku really just save me, fuck my life, why is the universe fucking dumb.” like even after this hugely traumatizing experience, he’s incredibly resilient to the point where after he calms down, his lingering emotions are mainly just “smdh this is a new level of irritated even for me.” he is so brave and thickheaded and tough and absurdly, ridiculously petty jesus christ.

why I like it: like the old man said. his face just screams “I’m a rotten thief.”

there’s so much personality in this one expression. and then it’s juxtaposed against proto!Katsuki who I really desperately just want to punch in the face. just. my son my be a dick, but by god he’s an honest dick.

why I like it: baby?? cute baby??? mine?? my baby?!?

he’s just like. “I got it all figured out. gosh I’m so good at life.” that is the face of a child who has never encountered a single difficulty in his very young existence. everything is easy and he expects to be good at everything and he always is and he’s so, so pleased with himself. with a kid that little you really don’t want to go and shatter their dreams just yet, but maybe someone should have taken him down just a peg or two before it all got out of hand. alas. he was so cute that nobody wanted to and I can’t even blame them because he’s just that fucking cute, though.

why I like it: this is a very underrated panel which I think most people probably don’t even recall. it’s from chapter 11 just after he loses to Deku and Iida, and specifically right after Momo just completely lays into him and explains in vivid detail exactly how stupid every single one of his decisions was lmao. and it’s like he’s just had his eyes opened. he talks about her speech later, too, so it clearly had an impact.

there is no pride here at all. initially when I was reading this, I thought he was still shell-shocked. but looking back at it, and knowing what I do now about his unexpected willingness to accept criticism (something I certainly wouldn’t have expected during my first readthrough of this chapter), I think this is also a genuine “!” face as he realizes that she’s completely fucking right. YOU DONE GOOFED SON. but it’s okay because he learned from it!

also look how big his eyes are. when they get all wide like that. it’s so rare that I have to appreciate each and every time it happens. also he has no right to have such thick eyelashes. goddammit.

why I like it: because he’s strongest at his moment of weakness! because he’s upset but he learned from it! because he is such a strikingly human character with such complex emotions and there’s such a lovely mix of them on display here and that shit is my weakness! because this is when I signed the adoption papers (well, had them finalized after I initially obtained them after the “you looked like you needed saving” face in chapter 1, at least)!! because he always cries in front of Deku and doesn’t get embarrassed, but then he does get embarrassed if anyone else shows up! because his emotions around Deku are so raw and out of control! because the intensity of them is as compelling as it is confusing! but mostly because someone showing fierce determination while simultaneously showing intense vulnerability is basically the cheat code to unlocking my heart, and also the best thing anyone can ever draw in a shounen manga. thank you I’ll take infinity of them.

why I like it: because half of 1-A saw this face and instantly thought “fuck that’s hot” and then went “!! oh fuck me” but it was too late! that’s right kids. even knowing firsthand what a trashpile he can be, you’re still not immune to his charms. that confidence, though.

why I like it: the face of a boy who has just realized that holy shit, there are other people in his class. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast.

why I like it: the slow motion (this is such a cool moment even if it’s at his expense lol), and the fact that this is such a weird and totally unique expression, and yet he somehow almost manages to make it look good. actually he does make it look good, let’s be real. of course, this was back when Horikoshi had more time to roll up his sleeves and really get into the art. look at all that shading goddamn.

why I like it: he cares!! he has feelings!! he has concern about someone other than him omfg whaaaaaat.

he’s so unsettled by what he just heard about Todoroki. the guy who was so strong and cool turned out to have an absolutely horrifying shounen protagonist past that he never let on about. honestly this scene is one of the reasons why I’m so strongly in favor of not interpreting Katsuki’s parents as abusive; because I just really like the character arc of him actually having a pretty good childhood, all things considered, but still having all these problems. because sometimes people actually do have everything going for them and yet they still screw up, because people are only human and sometimes you can fuck up (or be fucked up) even on easy mode! and if that happens it doesn’t mean you’re any more to blame, or more worthy of derision or scorn, or that you already had your chance so screw you, or any of that! anyway so that’s just such an interesting and relatively rare thing to explore and so I like it.

anyway. so just, the idea of him thinking of Todoroki as someone who had it made all his life, only to realize that’s not actually the case at all and that he’s actually the privileged one in comparison, just makes for a really great character-building moment. it’s a really big wake up call for him, especially given that he’s so often just wrapped up in himself and his own concerns still at this stage of the game. and it’s a moment that has a lasting impact on him and that he doesn’t forget, and it helps contribute to him starting to learn more empathy.

why I like it: my child is rabid please help.

but he’s so happy to have Ochako prove to be such an unexpectedly worthwhile opponent. she was sneaky and she nearly got him and he only just made it out by the skin of his teeth and fuck yes, that was awesome. he was really ready to throw down some more with her and it was gonna be the highlight of his fucking day. I just love seeing him acknowledge other people’s strength, because we know the value he places on being strong. so that’s a ton of respect from him, and Ochako fucking earned it, and this is just a great moment.

why I like it: just casually spittin facts and launching ships. nothing to see here move along.

why I like it: for everyone reblogging that one scene of shoujou!Bakugou from the anime over and over again, I just want to remind you all that as great as that scene is, we shouldn’t forget that in the manga he can be effortlessly handsome without even trying.

why I like it: as I said above.

why I like it: another one of the infamous “haah!?” faces. whenever he does these that one raised-eyebrow eye always goes so wide, and even though he’s trying to look like a pissed off thug it always makes him look surprisingly young instead.

also I’m not crazy for seriously wondering if Horikoshi’s art peaked all the way back in the sports festival arc though, right?? you honestly can’t find a bad panel even if you specifically go out and look for them.

why I like it: babyyyy.

I still don’t get how anyone could watch this scene and not get that he was way more upset than he was actually angry. he looks like he’s about to cry honestly.

why I like it: MY PRECIOUS SON’S ANGELIC SLEEPING FACE. all tuckered out. he’s had a hard day.

but seriously when you smooth out all of the >:O it is amazing how young he actually looks though. this one panel is shaded in such a way that you can see that he still has baby fat in his cheeks!! he’s just a little boy! HE IS A LITTLE CHILD LIKE THE REST OF THEM AND YOU MADE HIM PARTICIPATE IN THESE HUNGER GAMES AND HE KICKED ASS AND THEN GOT SAD AND YOU MADE HIM SLEEP AND CHAINED HIM TO A POST WHEN HE WOKE UP ANGRY AND TRYING TO BITE PEOPLE. anyways what a whirlwind of events huh.

why I like it: this child is literally trembling. he has been shaken to his very core. also for real though how did Jeanist even do that. anyways great internship or greatest internship.

why I like it: this is from chapter 60, right after he basically declares war on Deku and says he’ll crush him during final exams. then he turns around and is just like AND LET’S NOT FORGET THIS ASSHOLE HERE!!! and his eyes are practically bulging out and Todoroki just has his trademark “!!!” totally blank stare. this panel fully kills me guys.

why I like it: how was he THE CUTEST CHILD WHO EVER LIVED?? look at his little fists?! I can’t even deal with this???

why I like it: I actually like this one even more than the more iconic “the strongest heroes always win in the end” panel right below it, because in this panel you can more clearly see that he was crying quite a lot (he was only six!!), but it seems to me that it was more because of the unfairness of it than because he was hurt. even though he was hurt. but these jerks bumped into him and then acted like it was his fault, and it was two against one and he was much younger than them and IT’S JUST ROUGH YOU GUYS! LIFE IS HARD WHEN YOU’RE SIX! but he’s a little tough guy though so he scrubs the tears away in this very clumsy and boyish fashion because HE WON ANYWAY SO TAKE THAT! he is so little but already so determined.

why I like it: his eyes are just so intense all the time. even when it’s not an intense moment at all. also the dot shading here is so cool.

why I like it: okay so technically it’s the back of his head and not his face. but I feel like the fact that Kacchan was twitching and flinching and shaking too doesn’t get enough attention in this scene. he and Todo were both wigging out here and I love it. during the third light novel he also gets freaked out by the whole Disney Channel “we were telling a ghost story but now it seems like the story has come to life” plot that goes on at one point, just fyi. Kacchan is absolutely that kid who will refuse to watch scary movies just because “they’re dumb” and definitely NOT because he is scared, how fucking dare you sir.

why I like it: because this is the first of many scenes in this arc and the next arc in which he is freaking out but doing an excellent job of covering it up with his natural ferocity. he and Shouto have just come across one of their classmates’ arms lying in the middle of the path being chewed on by a villain in a straitjacket. his first reaction is to ask Shouto which of their classmates had been out on the path in front of them. he has immediately put two and two together, and he is immediately ready to throw hands with this dude, rules or no rules. but you can see the shading over his eyes though, and I think that -- along with the sweat visible on his face -- is a huge indicator of how horrifying this actually is to him.

why I like it: because this blank “processing...” expression that he sometimes gets when a lot of people are talking at once and he’s not really sure but he is pretty sure that he doesn’t like where this is heading, is my favorite.

why I like it: because even now it’s still ambiguous just what exactly was the prevailing emotion in these eyes and this expression, and the prevailing sentiment behind the “stay back.” I happen to think it was fear! not the same overwhelming, helpless fear as the 14-year-old who was caught up in the sludge, but a very on-edge, controlled-panic fear of a 16-year-old who’s trying to remain in control because he’s a hero in training now. and I think the “stay back” is the “stay back” of a boy who knows the look in that other boy’s eyes, and knows that it’s no use this time. it’s not protective, and it’s not hostile or defensive either. it’s just... resigned. don’t do it, Deku. that could have been the last thing he ever said to him, and it was measured and brave even through his fear and I love him so much.

why I like it: this is one which has to be viewed in juxtaposition with the panel immediately above it lol. Tomura looks like he could literally stare a man to death with those crazy eyes, and Kacchan is comparison just looks so ridiculously young and small and out of his league. but he doesn’t crack. but his eyes are super wide and even the shadows underneath them are stressed almost to their breaking point. like I’m screwed I’m screwed I’m so goddamn fucking screwed oh shit. my baby, guh. this was such a fucking scary experience though for real??

why I like it: same deal as above lol. this whole situation just keeps getting worse and worse, and here he’s just probing for more information while simultaneously trying to buy himself more time to think of a miracle plan. there really isn’t much chance of him getting out of here unscathed at this point (or at least there wouldn’t have been if the heroes hadn’t shown up), but I don’t think he’s letting himself think about that yet. but I’m sure it’s there at the back of his mind all the same.

why I like it: this is my favorite Bakugou face ever. SO MANY EMOTIONS. All Might came to save him! his hero!! he beat the bad guys (or so they think for that brief moment anyway) and it’s all okay now! he was alone but now he’s not anymore and All Might is there! and he is relieved, and he actually lets his guard down to show it for just a split second! his lip is trembling! I don’t think he even realizes for a moment, and then he does, and he immediately goes all tough guy again and the moment is gone! but while it’s there! it’s so much! I have never so badly wanted to hug a fictional character in my life.

why I like it: don’t you think this person could one day inspire thousands of others. do you see this courage in those eyes. the way he pushes past fear and panic and fatigue. don’t think, don’t doubt. just win.

why I like it: by now you have probably detected a pattern of me liking all of the Kamino faces because he was going through so many emotions that for once the walls just couldn’t keep up. he always looks so much younger when he’s not making >: faces. everything just smooths out. I also like that Horikoshi never makes his expressions symmetrical; he almost always has one eye wider than the other, eyebrows doing different things, stuff like that.

also this is when he sees All Might’s true form for the first time, and you can just see it hit him like a punch to the gut. All Might weakened; All Might weakened because of him; All Might might lose (!?!); All Might might die???? Katsuki’s entire world is falling apart in an instant, and in this moment he’s just a little boy.

why I like it: it beginsss. the angstening.

he’s not even resisting the hand guiding him. none of his usual unruliness or general aura of barely-checked rage. he just looks tired. and completely lost in his own thoughts. which as we now know were not good. I cannot fucking believe we had to wait another 25 chapters after this to finally get this kid a damn hug.

why I like it: because Bakugou Mitsuki is fulfilling my (and dating sim!Momo’s) lifelong dream of ruffling Bakugou Katsuki’s (spiky yet fluffy!!) hair. and all he can do is just chew his lip and halfheartedly glare at her all “mooooooOOOOmmm.” he doesn’t even really look pissed off here (because it’s hard to be mad when someone is talking about how worried they were about you and how relieved they are that you’re safe now, especially when that someone is your mom who isn’t normally the type to be so open about this kind of stuff at all), just begrudgingly grumpy. and I swear to god his bottom lip is made of fucking rubber the way he moves it around, just look at it.

why I like it: those eyelashes though!?!? [grabs Katsuki by the shoulders and shakes him roughly] WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO PRETTY.

why I like it: this is right after he found out he flunked the license exam, and you can see how upset he is. obviously we now know that shortly thereafter he went and had a complete meltdown. and buddy if you keep grinding your teeth like that, your dentist is also going to have a meltdown.

and yet again Horikoshi manages to strike this uncanny balance between making him look pissed off and making him look like he’s trying very, very hard not to cry. he just failed, again. it’s like the whole world is screaming at him over and over again that he’s not hero material at all.

why I like it: because he drags Deku out to the middle of nowhere and is all “I know you have All Might’s power and we’re gonna fight”, and Deku protests, and you expect Kacchan’s reaction to be just about anything other than what it actually is. this is as close to pleading as Katsuki is ever going to get. he may not be drowning in sludge but he is still desperate.

why I like it: this may be the best Katsuki that Horikoshi has ever drawn.

why I like it: super ultra mega unpopular opinion: I like this panel even more than THE PANEL!! that follows shortly after it. I am a sucker for when Horikoshi does this thing where he shows Katsuki’s face from a side profile, and his eyes are covered by his hair so you can’t see his full expression, but you know it is something vulnerable because he only ever does this when Katsuki is trying to hide his vulnerability. I could make a whole separate post just about these hair-covering-eyes faces lol. but out of all of them this is my absolute favorite. I can hear Okamoto’s voice acting in my head just looking at it.

why I like it: because it is THE PANEL. he finally broke completely; he let the walls fall away; he couldn’t hide it any longer. he’s so unbelievably torn up about this; he hates himself for it and feels like a failure; he’s lost and doesn’t have the faintest idea how to find his path again. he ended the Symbol of Peace. he was weak and wrong, and Deku was strong and right, and he can’t even hate Deku for it anymore, he just wants to understand what it is that he keeps doing wrong, why it is that he keeps failing.

why I like it: it’s, uuuuuh, angst.

lol it’s funny because at the beginning of the series, it was always Deku who was always crying at the drop of a hat. and to be fair this is still true. but Katsuki also cries way more than I would ever expect a rival character in a shounen manga to cry. and specifically he has cried every single time he’s had a dramatic and overly emotional altercation like this with Deku (and that’s three separate times now). is it because he’s always felt like he has less to hide around Deku? or because his Deku Emotions are so much more intense and volatile than his other emotions? at any rate, whatever it is, if this happens one more time (and I guarantee you it will too because A Certain Someone still hasn’t officially made an apology yet) he will officially lose all authority to ever call Deku out for being a crybaby again. meanwhile poor All Might will just be beside himself. I’m sorry dude, both of your children are just like this, you just gotta deal with it and accept their feelings.

why I like it: HE FINALLY GOT HIS HUG, BLESS.

and more hair covering his eyes! and chewing of the lip! and his head is bowed so much here, he fully allowed himself to be pulled into this hug and to accept this gesture of comfort for once in his life, just for a moment! after everything he was feeling, everything he was beating himself up over, All Might comes and tells him it’s not your fault. and there’s still so much guilt there, but he needs to hear this so badly that he accepts it all the same. meanwhile he is also CRYING AGAIN!? because this was the chapter where Horikoshi said “I am going to put all of the angst and cathartic conflict resolution into a single fight and it’s going to be the best thing ever” and it really was. do you even understand how much I love this. do you??

why I like it: OH GOSH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE KATSUKI HAIR-COVERING-EYES PANEL.

oh no. he’s ruffling his own spiky fluffy hair. he’s tired and he’s beat up (and whose fault is that lmao) and he’s learning all kinds of new things about himself today. he’s got basically nothing left in the tank, but for the first time in ages he has his path laid out in front of him again and he knows the way to start moving forward. he has been absolved of his guilt, the guilt which was eating a hole away inside of him. and all of a sudden he realizes -- it occurs to him -- hey, All Might finally admitted it, he really did give his power to Deku. but it’s still a secret though, isn’t it? it’s important, isn’t it? and so he tells them, hey, look, I get it, I won’t say anything, you don’t have to worry. it’s partially gratitude -- he owes so much to All Might and it’s ridiculous, that’s a fucking debt right there, and this is the least and only thing he can offer right now in return -- and it’s partially just... the right thing to do. like, common sense. honorable and shit. and it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. but just, let them know.

I love his side profile so much and I love his hair and his ear and the scuffs on his face and his beaten up hand and his hunched up shoulders and him being soft and trying not to show how soft he’s being and he is precious.

BONUS:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY HANDS IN POCKETS GRUMPY TRIANGLE EYES ROVING FERAL HOG SON, I LOVE YOU.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #makeste reads bnha #HEAVEN #MUST BE MISSIN' AN ANGEL #MISSIN' ONE ANGELLLL CHILDDDD #[camera pans over to the feral toddler digging through trash while I sigh in fondness] #bnha meta #bakugou meta

[thedramaclubs]

Changing lives (reprise)

Summery: Roman and Remus get the rest of the reviews and it was horrible that it closed their show. They soon meet one of their old friends and Remus’s husband meets them and soon they find something on Twitter to change their lives

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When their singing

Remus-green

Roman-red

Janus-orange

C!thomas-pink

All-purple

“The rest of the reviews are in! New York post, associated press, New York times” exclaimed Joan with ther phone in the air everyone started to get excited and looked on their phones as Roman and Remus are about to listen to how great their musical is........or so they thought.

Everyone’s faces changed to a sad and disappointed look and started leaving

“What? What’s happening?” said Roman as he watch everyone look at him and his brother in sadness.

“This is not a review anyone wants when you have shitty advance sales. This is gonna close us” said Joan

Roman gasp and Remus was shocked “What didn’t they like was it the hip hop?”

“Yeah but not that”

“For gods sake sakes Joan read it.” The twins sat down as Joan read the horrible reviews.

“Ok here’s the highlights, “Remus Allen’s FDR might just be the most insulting misguided, offensive, and laughable performance that this reviewer has ever had the squirming misfortune to endure. Emphasis on the insulting because he try to make him self look like that he was trying to give me intrusive thoughts about FDR.”

“That’s how I normally look what the hell?!?!”

“I mean it’s not so bad” said Roman as he played with his dress

“DO HIM ALREADY!!” “What I’m just saying.”

“Watching Romans Eleanor Roosevelt, corking out a heavy-handed message of activism, is like paying an aging drag queen to shove a syurp-soaked American flag down my throat. And also Eleanor should have been played by a women”

Roman was on the verge of tears “Thats not criticism that’s a personal attack.” His voice cracked and Remus hugged him as he shed a tear

“If your considering buying a ticket to the show do yourself a favor. By a few feet of good heavy rope instead and then go hang yourself”

“Holy fuck, oh god, poopy. Was the show that bad?”

“It’s not the show it’s you two. Your just not likeable.”

“What?” They said simultaneously

“Nobody likes a narcissist.” They sat in silence over what they just heard. “Leave it to me I’ll go and try to change the narrative once again” Joan then left the twins alone in the bullding

“I hate this world” “this just hurts my heart, Where did everybody go?”

They talked over each other as the walk to the bar to find a man in a pink suit. “What can I get ya?” said the man “Yola mezcal blackberry smash” said the twins at the same time. “My condolences Roman. But remember you do have friends” said the man making their drinks.”

“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Thomas Sanders.......we’ve done five shows together.”

“Ugh Thomas went to Juilliard and won’t shut up about.” Whispered Remus as he told Roman “Oh right Thomas. Thomas haha....... why are you dressed like waiter?” I’m in between gigs at the moment. Honestly Roman I feel adrift as i did in my days before Juilliard” Remus proceed to chug a drink that was on the table as Thomas continued to talk about Juilliard and the two were just over it.

“Still I have played hamlet and I’m still known as that guy from the beloved early aughts sitcom “Talk to the hand” I question everything about my existence” As he continues to rant about the past what they didn’t notice as a man in a golden sequiny dress with a black hat and a yellow ribbon tied on it with long golden brown hair walking their way

“Hey guys!”

Roman and Remus turned around to see Janus Allen, Remus’s husband

“Jannie!!!” Remus picked up Janus and spun him around and soon dipped him into a kiss which turn into a make out session. “Ahem I know you two lovebirds haven’t seen each other all day but can it wait we’re still here ya know.” They both looked at Roman and giggle a little from embarrassment “Sorry your show closed on opening night again. Welcome to the world of the unemployed,hit me up next.”

“I thought you were in Chicago?” asked Remus “I totally didn’t quit just now 20 years in the chorus and still wouldn’t let me play Roxie Hart and now their letting Tina Louise play her” “That bitch is still alive” said Remus as he chugs another drink

“We’re wasting our lives.” Said Roman as they are all slightly drunk “Ok I refuse to give up we’re still celebrities we still have power.” “Yeah well The Times casted you out” said Thomas as he poured another drink “Yep they wrote you off as aging narcissist and I’m only allowed to call Remus that.” “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with that.” Said Roman as he drinks even more. “You know what we will become celebrity arsonist.” “Babe it’s call celebrity activist we are not burning down another building like last time.” “Ok everyone think of causes.”

“Poverty”

“World hunger”

“Too big we need something we can handle”

“Let’s see whats trending” said Janus “Trump, trump, trump, ooo how about this boy he’s all over Twitter. His names Patton Heart. He’s from edgewater, Indiana. He’s gay. He wanted to take his boyfriend to the highschool prom and the pta went apeshit and canceled it.”

We are now in Edgewater, Indiana and Patton Heart is watching the head of the pta, Mrs Green being interviewed. “We have very strict rules for prom. Young ladies must wear non-revealing dresses. Young men must wear suits or tuxes. And if a student chooses to bring a date it must be of the opposite sex” “Can’t you just ban this student?” “Well we’ve been advised that there may be some legal repercussions if we prevent this boy from attending so although it breaks my heart we have no choice to cancel prom.” We move to Mr Virgil Hawkins the principal “The first thing I’m going to do is contact the state attourney this is not about school rules this is a civil right case.” “Wait seriously?” Said Patton. “Yes and if word gets out people will get mad and next thing you know some modern day Eleanor Roosevelt is gonna come and hell’s gonna break loose.”

We move back to New York “We got to go down their and raise holy hell” exclaimed Roman “We’ll be the biggest thing to happen to Indiana since........whatever’s happen in Indiana are you with me!?!” Said Remus as he and Roman start stand on top of a table they all cheered “We’ll get Joan to tag along to find us a venue” “I just book us a non-union tour of Godspell and I goes through Indiana we can ride on the bus.” Said Thomas “Can we do this guys” Said Janus “You bet your sweet MILF ass we can jannie”

🎶 We are gonna prove that in this day and age being gay isn’t a crime. This is out moment to change the world one homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶Homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶At a time🎶

🎶 we’re gonna help that little homo, whether he likes it or not, when your a legendary thespian 🎶

🎶First you help the distressed 🎶

🎶Then you help the distraught🎶

🎶We’re gonna go to where the necks are red and lack of dentistry thrives, Why sing and dance when you can take a stance🎶

🎶And know your truly changing lives. We’re gonna March until that town looks like the end of act one in les mis. You don’t gotta have a Ph.D in psych to know that people kowtow to the folks in the biz🎶

🎶We’re gonna teach’em to be more PC the minute or group arrives🎶

🎶That’s right🎶

🎶Those fist-pumping🎶

🎶Bible-thumping🎶

🎶Spam-eating🎶

🎶Cousin-humping🎶

🎶Cow-tipping🎶

🎶Shoulder-slumping🎶

🎶Tea-bagging🎶

🎶Jesus-jumping🎶

🎶Losers and their inbred wives. They’ll learn compassion🎶

🎶And better fashion🎶

🎶Once we at last start changing lives!!!!🎶

🎶Now let’s go help that dyke🎶

People to tag/ @artissijules

This took a long time to write

#sanders sides #logicality #thomas sanders #livy writes #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #c!thomas #demus #dukeceit #sanders sides the prom au #ts joan #prinxiety

[luca-moreno]

void

Luca word vomit idk

--

“You’re so fucking weird, Moreno,” one of the squad laughs as they haul on their packs.  

Earth isn’t at all what he expected.

Bootcamp isn’t either.

The hills in the distance look far away and the day is already hot. Luca feels sweat beading on the back of his neck, runs a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He used to be so pale, now his skin turns darker shades he never realized could belong to him. He hates this harsh sun, the way its rays bite into his skin like tiny needles. It’s burning him, he thinks. He’ll wake up tomorrow red and sore. How did humans survive this long, on a planet trying to kill them daily?

He flashes the others a tight grin and a shrug and tries not to show on his face how the words bother him. “Yeah, I know.”

--

The wards weren’t friendly but neither was Earth or the Alliance.

But Luca puts his head down and he works. He runs the tracks, he climbs the walls, he shoots and swears and rolls and he keeps his head down and he’s just another inductee that his barely sixteen sol years flies under the radar to their eighteen. He’s baby faced and green and alone.

Nobody notices.

--

Wide hands gripped his shoulders and a smile flashed. “It’s not that long, Luca. You just gotta survive two more years. You can do it, I know you can.”

It was hard to hear over the din of the departure lounge. Luca’s throat grew tight as something akin to panic crawled its way up his throat. “I don’t... I know if I can. Not without you.”

Kiosho grins, mismatched eyes under a messy mop of blue trimmed hair. “Sure you can. Just don’t let them give you any shit. And Luca… even if you don’t feel it, bluff. They can’t tell the fucking difference anyway.”

--

He didn’t make the two years. He barely made it to one.

Code skittered across the screen of the terminal. His heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his ears. He cracked the firewalls like they’re nothing, swooped in and manifested a whole new reality and hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

It was… and it wasn’t and it still didn’t get him what he wanted.

--

The other boy notices Luca long before Luca notices him.

And why would he? He was just another tenderfoot, another one of the crowd, another pair of boots falling into line and pounding the pavement, another body in the mess hall trying to dig their way through the slop that’s considered to be their meals. Luca listens with half an ear as the gaggle of recruits around him bitch and moan about the food, picking at it unhappily but Luca remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He never protests.

The boy slides into the seat opposite him but Luca doesn’t look up.

“It’s your accent, you know,” the other boy tells him conversationally.

It takes a long moment before Luca realizes he’s talking to him. He looks up. “What?”

“Your accent. You probably don’t even realize it, but you do this weird little burr thing with all your words. Like drell and turians do.”

Luca lowers his fork slowly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to say it now. “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I know,” the other boy smiles. He has blonde hair, and eyes the colour of earth’s skies when they’re running drills in the daylight. “Neither did I.”

It’s hardly unusual, lots of the recruits where from all over the terminus systems, most shuttled back to Earth for training. Luca holds himself short of leaning into a kindred spirit, if that’s what he even was. He takes a closer look at the boy in front of him - pale skin, long fingers, lean limbed.

His mouth clocks it before his mind does. “Spacer.”

“Yep. I’m Saxon, by the way.”

“Um. I’m… I’m Luca.”

Saxon picks something off his tray and eyes it critically. He glances around before he shrugs and pops it into his mouth. “Sure beats keleven nutripaste, huh?”

Some of the tension around his shoulders seems to ease. “Yeah, it does.”

--

There’s a lot Luca finds he likes about Saxon, and some he doesn’t.

But mostly it’s how he doesn’t feel so… alien… when he’s with him.

Music croons in the background, some old earth song Saxon had dug up from the archives and Luca strums along on the battered guitar he’d scraped all his meagre credits together to buy. Smoke curls around them, a dusty tobacco that makes Luca’s nose itch and his limbs feel weak. Don't you want to be free? Do you like girls or boys?

“So, do you?” Saxon asks one night, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. The clouds are rolling in, Luca can taste something in the air that leaves him shivering. The rooftop is his sanctuary.

“Uh, do I what?”

Saxon looms closer. “Do you like boys or girls, Luca?”

Luca’s skin prickles in awareness. In heat. “Boys,” he whispers.

Saxon’s teeth flash in the darkness, and he pulls Luca in.

--

Luca wakes up alone, head throbbing and thick with something that was once sweet now turned bitter. His body aches, sore in places that he didn’t want to acknowledge and marked with splotches that make him double take when he sees his refection in the mirror.

He runs a hand over the marks and smiles to himself.

The smile doesn’t last.

“Saxon, wait up!”

The gaggle of recruits don’t stop but Luca only focuses on one blonde head. He jogs to catch up, still calling out. “Saxon!”

Finally they stop and Luca can feel their eyes on him. “Uh. Wait, so. I just wanted to-“

“Hey, it’s the duct rat,” one of the men laugh. Barely a man, but solid enough to pass. “That’s what they call ‘em, isn’t it?”

Luca’s gaze swings to Saxon, willing him to look at him. He doesn’t.

“Sax-“

“Give it a rest, Luca,” Saxon shifts on his feet. A glance over his shoulder, a shared laugh and almost an apology but not directed at him. Luca isn’t always great with signals but he can feel the sudden unfriendly prickle in the air, the hostility.

You’re so fucking weird, Moreno.

He opens his mouth.

Saxon walk off.

--

It happens more than once.

--

It’s confusing, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through his fingers, up until it isn’t. He finds his space, amongst the twisted wires and loose threads, in the circuitry and flow of an electrical current. He always had an affinity for machines, for tech and code. There were no nuances to wade through. 

On or off, I or O. Luca always knew where he stood with his tech.

He chose a path and followed it to the end.

“Hey, Luca.”

Luca’s head snaps up. Saxon is a black shape blocking out the stars in his quiet place. He tenses as Saxon steps into the paltry ring of light thrown off his datapad and sits beside him on the threadbare rug.

“What do you want?” Luca asks flatly. His face still burns from being rebuffed. His ears still ring with the sound of their laughter.

Maybe the first time he might have been able to convince himself it didn’t mean much. A misunderstanding. A misstep. He’s had so many of those here. But by the second and the third it wasn’t possible to kid himself anymore. And Luca didn’t know what else to do, kept going back, pinging like a moth against the light. 

On or off. On. On. On.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Luc.” Saxon leans close. He smells like dried sweat and beer, smoky and apologetic as he nuzzles against Luca’s neck.

Luca tries to lean away. “What, so you suddenly remembered I exist?”

“Aw, like I could forget.”

“You tried pretty hard.” Luca tries to climb to his feet but Saxon’s hand snaps out to curl around his wrist. He grips tight.

“Luca, wait.”

“Let go, Saxon.”

“No, Luca. Come on, I’m… sorry, ok? Jesus, just… wait.”

The inside of Luca’s chest is desolate enough not to shove him away. Not yet. He hesitates, allows Saxon to draw him back down onto the rug. Stars slide overhead, a sparkle in the sky that leaves Luca homesick. He wants to curl into himself but he draws his knees up instead.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Saxon.”

“And you’re too much, Luca,” Saxon sighs. He slides closer, hands on Luca’s face. Heavy hands that Luca can’t twist away from. “You’re like a puppy trying to hump my leg whenever I turn around. You’re… loud.”

“I am not loud.”

“No, I mean,” Saxon rocks back and waves his hands over Luca, his face twisted into something pained. “This. You. Loud. You can be… suffocating.”

That stings. Luca scrambles back and Saxon lets him go. “You gotta give people a chance to breathe, Luca.”

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

Off.

--

His messages scattered to the four corners go unanswered for months. He doesn’t understand. He came all this way, sold his soul to get here and Kiosho was nowhere to be found.

Luca hunches over the terminal. Frustration squeezes his throat. He’s starting to unravel when he’s never been together in the first place.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

The sob gets stuck as he sucks in a breath. Blue eyes skim him, kind and warm and more than he probably deserves.

“Sure,” he forces out brightly. Happy face, he tells himself. Squeezes away the dampness. Don’t let them see. “Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

--

Tommorow.

[No new messages]

And so on, and so forth.

--

Sand shifts under his feet. It doesn’t do that on the Citadel. The walls might shift, but the ground was never knocked out from beneath him.

He wheezes painfully as the screams echo. Dust, that every present choking dust billows up around him and there’s pressure and pain and something wet at the back of his throat. He tries to sit up but his body won’t listen to the signals his brain sends. There’s another boom, another shower of debris and screams and Luca’s world goes dark.

--

When he wakes up, it’s to silence.

The nurses lean over him, lights shine into his eyes, their mouths move but there’s no sound. No hum of the recycled air, no rustle of leaves as the wind brushes them, no stomp of feet on the sealed paths.

Just horrifying, terrible silence and Luca’s own thoughts and the desperate, sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

He doesn’t realize he might be screaming until the prick of the needle slides through his skin.

Then he doesn’t feel much at all.

--

It takes him three months to heal his leg and adjust to his new ears. Some days are better than others and the headaches are somehow the worst part. He gets fast at signing to the OT’s and the doctor’s although they’re unimpressed at his mastery of signed curse words and not much else. For a while he’s angry but that takes too much energy and he can’t maintain it for long.

And stupidly, he waits.

The day they tell him they’re going to release him, he finally plucks up the courage to ask. “Did… did anyone visit?”

Where there any messages?

The nurse is sweet, green eyed, red hair and freckled all over her nose like stars in the black. She shakes her head, a smile that smacks too much of pity on her mouth. “No, I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh.” Luca sinks back against the pillows. “Okay.”

--

The Alliance took his hearing and replaced it with something half baked, but it’s better than the silence so he doesn’t fuss. They haul him in front of the brass where the truth comes out in incriminating shades of glowing orange and textured lines. A deep dive that wasn’t deep enough, or too deep, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your ID is fake,” they tell him and Luca wants to protest because no, not really. He’s still him. He’s still Luca, some kid from the wards, too loud, too much to hold everything that vibrates inside his bones. It had taken the ride to Earth to be noticed and then the spat in the medical wing to be diagnosed. The meds helped. For the first time Luca’s world evened out.

“Altered,” he’s brave enough to say. “Sir.”

There’s a snap of brows over the datapad. Another officer with a chest full of medals coughs nearby.

“He’s two years in on his training. He’s the legally the right age now.”

“There has to be a consequence. What he did-“

“We’re short on bodies as it is. And with what’s coming... Well, this kid was determined enough to get here all on his own. We should use that.”

All eyes turn on him. “Is that true?”

Luca swallows. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

“Why? Why not just wait until you were of age?”

“I was trying to find my brother, sir.” I was trying to find home.

“And did you? Find him?

“No, sir.” Not yet.

There’s a rolling beat of silence that has Luca’s throat feeling thick. His stomach churns.

“Verdict?”

If they send him away, he has nowhere to go. The Alliance wasn’t home, but it was a purpose.

“Let him stay, but hold back that promotion.”

--

They send him to the edges of Council space. Too human for the wards, too alien for earth. The things that made him stand out under Sol’s light become useful out here. Batarian, Turian, Drell, even Krogan, familiar to his tongue, to his hands.

He’d almost laugh about it, if it didn’t fucking hurt.

--

It’s not the glory the recruitment posters promise them. Its blood and guts and screaming and the desperate search for the quiet space in his mind to give himself a moment to just think-

But bullets spray, shields go down, the turret jams.

They die.

They save the colony, but they die.

“Did you see that?” Checo wheezes from beside him. In the distance there’s the booms of biotic explosions and the flash of figures in armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re not alliance, he knows that much. He presses down on the hole in his side and wonders why it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt, right? The bullet tore right through him and blood leaks through his fingers.

He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for this.

--

Funny how the fates shift. How time and circumstance and one insignificant little moment can set him onto a path he has no comprehension of where it will lead. One second of hesitation, one shred through his flimsy armor that knocks him down but doesn’t kill him and leads him to this.

He’s shuffled into a new squad. Sometimes he’s loud, but they’re louder and Luca doesn’t need to squeeze into the places left behind because they make room for him. Fold around him like he matters. His commander even kisses his forehead like the mother he never had never did.

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

On.

--

The reapers wipe out so much of the fleet. Names of those lost scroll endlessly over terminal screens. A memorial wall crops up in the docking bay and in the ship. Thousands and millions gone.

Two names typed into a search, one the name that had started it all, the other he wonders why.

Too much, too loud.

He was never very good at letting go.

The terminal blinks.

[Personnel unknown]

But unknown was better than dead, right?

 --

#luca moreno #ii guess we just needed to get that out #excuse me while i go cry now

[florenceandthemachine]

MORE BROKEN TUMBLR ASKS I AM SORRY ANYWAY. holy fuck this got long and severely out of hand. also apologies to @casscent because apparently Tumblr responded to this ask this morning with the answer “a”. so that’s cool. 

@casscent​ asked:

heyyyy hope you're doing great!  Ok how about Eddie meeting Buck in south america, bartending, instead of LAFD? I've been having that idea but too lazy to write. Thanks, xoxo.

“Welcome to Padrino, how can I satisfy you tonight?”

“Oh God, is that seriously how you greet your customers?”

It probably said a lot about Buck that a sarcastic response through him that much, but hey, being one of the few English speakers in one of the best bars in Equador had its perks. It was huge, it was clean, it was easy to find, and the immediate distance to the U.S. Army base in Manta meant that there was never a short supply of American citizens, going to or from deployment, who only spoke (you guessed it) English.

Even now, he had to admit, it was surprising getting a response that wasn’t a clear dismissal (or a drink order, acting like Buck hadn’t said anything at all), but Buck had always been good at rolling with the punches. 

“Trust me, looking at you? I could have said a lot worse.”

Business had been pretty slow, as it usually was in the mid-week, but even if the place had been bursting at the seams he would have taken the time to look his newest customer up and down. He was beautiful, that was no doubt—tan and tall, lean, with dark hair that lined his jaw and dark eyes that could probably melt steel if their owner should so desire to try.

The bar may not have been swamped, but it wasn’t empty, either—after taking Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s order (“Edmundo”, he had clarified, when Buck had to ask for a name for the tab) he bounced around the bar, but inevitably found himself back in Edmundo’s gravitational pull.

That in itself was curious; Buck had seen a lot of people at the bar, spoken to most of them, and flirted with most of them, but he hadn’t seen someone quite as captivating—while remaining as relatively silent—as Edmundo before. Most of the time, the men and women who were only a refuel and rest stop between Over There and home were another blend of insanity all together; they were rowdy, and loud, celebratory for all the right reasons, even the ones who came in alone.

Edmundo, though… well, he almost looked like he was being sent from one war zone to another.

“So, Edmundo—“

“Eddie. Call me Eddie.”

He grinned. “Well, Eddie, you can call me Buck,” he started, tapping at his badge. “And before you so rudely interrupted me, Eddie—“

Another snort of laughter. Buck grinned.

“What’s got you looking so down? You look like you’re heading to the firing squad, not heading home.”

Eddie looked over him slowly, his eyes a mix of critical and curious, tilting his head to the side. “How do you know I’m going home?”

“Well…” Buck hummed thoughtfully, tossing a rag over his shoulder as he closed another tab out, sliding the billfold and a smile over to the couple who he hoped would take the hint and make out somewhere other than his bar. “You’re sitting here alone, instead of trying to bond prematurely with your future platoon, proving that you’re one of the boys, or whatever it is that makes guys crave the acceptance of other guys. You’re wearing your civvies, not your fatigues, which means you don’t have any expectations of formality when you get wherever you’re going, but it also means you’re not expecting any commanding officers to walk in and reprimand you. And because you ordered a Coors. Seriously, man, no one who’s about to go overseas orders something as boring as Coors. The last outgoing squad in here ordered Goldschlager for the entire bar. It was disgusting.”

Eddie let out a full laugh at that as he tipped his beer in Buck’s direction—and what a lovely sound it was—and Buck let himself preen a little as Eddie nodded his head.

“Got it in one.” He said with a smirk, taking another swig from his boring beer, his smile falling a little bit as he swallowed, seeming to come back into himself, weighing Eddies earlier question with an entirely new meaning. 

“My flight is in three days, we’re waiting for some of my squad members to be cleared by medical before we go home. My CO offered to get me home earlier, but I guess… I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. Somehow, Texas has become even more daunting than the desert.”

Buck didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just didn’t; he knew as well as anyone else that useless platitudes were just that, useless, and it didn’t look like any faux words of wisdom would have helped Eddie in that moment anyway.

The two were quiet as Buck poured another round of shots for one of the smaller tables at the back of the bar, watching critically as the patron stumbled on her way back to her friends, but as long as the tab was open and the drinks weren’t spilled, he wasn’t going to complain yet.

“What about you, Buck? Are you happy here, or just avoiding your own firing squad, like I am?” His brows rose again as he heard Eddie speak, not just because the other was initiating more conversation, but because he had been tending bar for almost a year and no one had asked him that before.

The question should have been an easy one, but nothing was easy, really, not when you were comparing backgrounds with a fucking vet—and try as Buck might, there was no way that ‘I ran away from my shitty parents and ended up crossing over Panama and I’m a bar tender because my options were either that or hooking’ would sound anything but whiney to someone who was coming home from actual war. So he shrugged, made Eddie his change, and tilted his head.

“Just taking it as it comes, Eddie. Like a lot of us. Like you will be for the next three days, it sounds like.” He offered, and Eddie snorted as he pocketed his change, leaving a few bills on the bar. A small wave was the only goodbye they exchanged as Eddie turned and walked out of the bar.

--

Repeat guests weren’t the typical norm in Padrino, and Buck had to admit, he was a little surprised to see Eddie walking back in the next night.

“Welcome to Padrino, would you like a taste?”

“Jesus, Buck, that was even worse than yesterd—oh, hey, are you alright? You get into a fight or something after I left last night?” Eddie asked, his teasing expression immediately clouded over by something that was strangely resemblant of genuine concern, and Buck blinked in surprise as he touched his own brow. “What? Oh, no, I just didn’t put any concealer on tonight. It’s just a birthmark.”

Eddie leaned in to examine it, and Buck held his breath, trying to ignore how close they both were, all of a sudden, and wow, Eddie’s eyes were a beautiful color this close, and—

“Huh. Cute.”

And now Eddie was calling him cute and Buck felt his cheeks heat up.

“Shut up, Eddie. What can I get for you? Same old boring beer?”

Their night went on in a somewhat similar fashion as before, with Eddie allowing himself more than one beer this time, and Buck having a few more customers to distract himself with when he felt himself pulled in by Eddie for a bit too long. After a wave of patrons had wandered out onto the patio and off of their property, Buck sighed in relief, pocketing a thick roll of tips as he tapped away at the bar terminal.

“I think I found a solution to your problem, by the way.” He said as he reappeared in Eddie’s corner, sliding another beer his way as he tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. Eddie looked marginally surprised, but curious, and gestured for Buck to continue. “For your hypothetical firing squad back at home. Clearly, the best answer is to just stay here in Equador. You can avoid getting shot, I can teach you how to make a mean canelazo, everybody wins.”

Eddie was laughing again—wow, what a nice sound—and Buck’s eyes were probably just playing a trick on him, but he actually looked somewhat remorseful when he had to shake his head.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, Buckaroo. I, um. I have someone needing me to get home.”

“Oh? Wife? Girlfriend?… Boyfriend? Come on now, it’s the responsibility of every good bartender to know.”

Eddie looked torn for a moment, and Buck was worried he had taken a step past the line, until Eddie looked back up to him, and Buck felt his heart stop, because oh god—Eddie was being shy. It was adorable. Buck couldn’t handle it.

“Actually… I have a son. Christopher. His mom left us when I was deployed… I can’t make him wait any longer.” He fished a small chain out of his coat pocket, a small pendant dangling from the chain. The St. Christopher’s pendant swung between his fingers, and Eddie seemed to bring himself back to the present as he stowed the chain back in his pocket. “He’s, um. He’s a great kid. And I’m lucky to be his dad, I just… He’s been with my parents for four years, and he’s only seven.”

Buck couldn’t help but smile, leaning down, resting his head in a hand as he shook his head. “He’s only seven, and he’s the reason you’re afraid to go back?”

“What if he doesn’t remember me?”

“Eddie, please.” Buck said, a snort on his lips, shaking his head. “I’ve only met you twice now, and I can guarantee I will never forget you.”

The night continued on easily after that, conversation flowing naturally, even as Eddie put back a few more beers. When the time came for them to part ways, Eddie stood again, offering the same silent wave that he had before, and… well, that just wouldn’t do.

“Night, Eddie.” He called in a sing-song voice, considering it a victory as Eddie paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Night, Buck.”

--

Though the previous night was technically his Friday, because Buck was a saint, he still answered his phone when the bar owner called at 1030 that night, fresh from the shower and with nothing else to do. Maria, his late-night cohort, had gone into labor in the middle of one of the busiest nights of the week, and like the saint he was, Buck was happy to fill in.

And take over the tips that night.

But mostly, to fill in, like the saint he was.

“Buckaroo!”

…okay, and maybe for one other reason.

Eddie was back in his spot on the bar (and when had it become Eddies spot?) and… had a row of shot glasses emptied around him, and if that hadn’t told Buck that Maria had worked her magic on him, the big smile on his face would have been key enough.

“It’s my favorite Bucky-Buck!”

Well, at least Eddie seemed like a happy drunk.

Buck didn’t even need to fake a smile, which was as surprising to him as anything else, as he clocks himself in. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Edmundo.” He said, a teasing lilt to his voice, and the grin that Eddie shot his way was blinding. He immediately filled up a pint glass with water and slid it over to him, easily sliding into the business of the bar, handling a few extra tabs as customers poured in and out of the bar.

As easy as it was for him to tend the bar, it was even easier for him to converse with Eddie. Eddie was the ideal drunk, really—he was all smiles when Buck looked over, he was nice enough to any of the people who sat next to him, and more importantly, he was more than happy to throw back any drink that Buck put in front of him, including water.

“Buck, how do you get so handsome?” Eddie asked him after his fourth glass of water, looking up at Buck like he hung the moon. It wasn’t unusual for a drunken stranger to be so forward in their thoughts, especially regarding the bar staff, but that didn’t mean that Buck didn’t feel a little bit of heat rising in his cheeks every time Eddie directed some of those thoughts toward him.

“Buck, your arms look so strong! I bet you could lift me. Let’s try it!”

Oh, god.

“Buck, did I tell you how cute your beauty mark is? It’s so cute. Buck you’re so cute.”

No one had ever called it a beauty mark before, and Buck felt his flush raise high on his cheeks in the same moment as he balled up the rag he was using to wipe down the bar and chuck it at Eddie’s head.

Eddie started to calm down—dozing, maybe?—as the bar started to close down, midnight long since past. It was just Eddie and a few other parties at the bar, but where Eddie was quieting down, they were just riling up. And Buck was the lucky bitch who got to cut them off.

“Cmon, kid, I just want ‘nother drink. You can’t cut me off yet, I’m f-I’m fine! See?”

The blond man on the other side of the bar was certainly not fine, but far be it from Buck to judge—he just couldn’t serve him any more alcohol.

“I’m sure you are, so why don’t you drink some water and let your friends take you home?”

The hand that pushed at his chest was not a welcome surprise; hell, it wasn’t a surprise at all, Buck had no misconceptions about the kinds of assholes that would try to fight a bartender, but before he could even threaten to call the cops, the blond asshole was out for the count, body hitting the floor after the sharp slap of skin on skin contact.

“Don’t you fucking touch him.”

Eddie stood, body prone over the quickly-unconscious male, his fist still extended. Any signs of inebriation had apparently worn off; his body was steady, the punch was aimed well, and probably packed enough strength behind it to feel like a freight train. Wow, Eddie had muscly arms. How had Buck not noticed that before?

Okay, no, hold on, this was not the time or the place to be aroused by how strong and powerful and fucking insanely hot Eddie was. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind did Eddie look over at him, their eyes locking (and oh god, Buck was instantly hard, feeling that smoldering gaze trained on him), but the spell was almost immediately broken as Eddie took a step back, eyes wide and uncertain. Buck could read his customers like a book 99% of the time, and if the look on Eddie’s face said anything, it was that Buck had about a second before Eddie fled.

“Buck, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Stop, Eddie. You’re okay, thank you for doing that.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Eddie—”

“I have to go. I’m sorry.” Buck sighed as Eddie slapped a few bills down on the table and turned heel, nearly sprinting out of the bar with a surprising agility for someone who had only moments before been complimenting Buck on his ‘beauty mark’.

Oh well. There was always tomorrow.

--

Except, Buck realized the next morning, there wouldn’t be a ‘tomorrow’ Today. Whatever. Eddie had said that his flight was in three days the night they had met, which meant that he was going to be gone today. Hell, he probably already was gone.

Disappointment pooled in his stomach, but somehow, that made him feel all the more foolish. He doubted that Eddie even remembered who he was, let alone what the looked like, let alone the things that he had been saying last night.

--

Two years later, Buck’s world burst into color when Chim a calendar, of all things, brought his world full circle.

“Okay, now that… is a beautiful man.”

Buck had to turn, and then did an honest to God double take, when who else but Edmundo—his Edmundo, not that he had any right to think that—walked out of the locker room. He looked… different. More serious (or maybe he was just sober), but there was no denying the face, the hair, and if all else failed, the tattoos. He stood, frozen on the spot, as Bobby walked past him, taking turns to introduce everyone in the squad.

“Eddie, this is Hen, Chim, and back there is—“

“Buck?”

Two years. Two years had gone by, and Eddie still lit up like they were staring at one another across a bar. Buck couldn’t help it—he grinned back, taking a few easy strides to wrap Eddie in a hug, pleasantly surprised when Eddie didn’t even miss a beat, hugging him right back.

They pulled back from one another when Chim cleared his throat, but even then, they were only looking at one another, both completely oblivious to the awkward tension in the room.

“Uh, Buck, Eddie, are you gonna tell us—“

“What are you doing tonight?”

Buck blinked as Eddie cut right through Chim’s question, his cheeks pinking up a little bit even as he shrugged. “I don’t think I have any plans.”

Eddie’s smile could have lit the place ablaze, and Buck felt honored, not for the first time, that it was aimed at him, even as Eddie spoke again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

#911 #buddie #buddiefic #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #this got so long and also got nothing done??? somehow?????? so I am sorry #they didn't even kiss wow what's wrong with me #flospeaks #mutually assured devotion

[twixtandshout]

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen. 

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Waiting for God

"Rest in the LORD - and wait patiently for Him." - Psalms 37:7

We are told of certain men that they walked with God. If we are walking with anyone, we keep close beside him. We do not fall behind him. We do not go faster than he goes. We keep step and walk by his side. We are to walk with God.

The word walk is suggestive. It does not indicate haste. Only once does the Bible show us God running. The father ran to meet the prodigal. He runs to save, to show mercy, to welcome the penitent. But in all His other movements, God walks. He is never in a hurry. He walks slowly, and we are told to wait for Him. Unless we want to go alone, we must wait for Him. He will never hurry to please us. We may be sure, too, that we are not going too slowly if He is with us. "Wait for the Lord."

In one marginal reading the words are, "Be silent to the Lord and wait patiently for him." In another it is, "Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him." His work is not yet finished; you see it now only in process .

An artist is painting a picture. You come into his studio one day and see him at work. You ask him what the picture is and he tells you. You say: "Well, I cannot see any resemblance. I do not think that the drapery is beautiful. That sky is not natural." So you go on chattering and criticizing. The artist says: "Wait until the picture is finished. You cannot see yet what it is to be. Just wait." That is the thought in this Psalm. The writer was in great perplexity. Things seemed to be going wrong. Evildoers appeared to be prospering. They brought their wicked devices to pass. They slandered the righteous. They crushed the innocent and the defenseless. The writer saw all this, and it fretted him. "Just be silent before God - and wait for Him," was the answer that came to him.

We should wait for God in His providences. It takes time to develop them. We are assured that all things work together for good to those who love God. But ofttimes we find ourselves in experiences which we think cannot possibly bring any good to us. They seem full of hurt. But the answer is, "Be silent before God - and wait for Him." This work which seems to our thought so unlike God - is not yet finished. When it is complete, then the beauty and the good will appear.

We are all quite sure of being in circumstances, sometime in our life, when things will seem to be against us. We may have wasting sickness, bringing suffering, loss of income, heavy expense. We may have adversity in our business affairs. Death may break in upon our happy circle of love. Our plans may be thwarted. Some day we may sit amid shattered hopes, the broken purposes, and faded flowers of our joys, and say, "There is nothing good in all this!" But then will come to us the divine word, "Be silent - and wait for God." This seeming confusion is not lawless tangle. The threads are in God's hands, every one of them. But His work is not yet finished .

We must wait for God also - in all our work. Sometimes we grow impatient at the slowness with which results come. Parents have their experience as they train their children, in watching for the outcome of their discipline. Teachers meet the same trial of faith in their work with their pupils. When a man works in wood or clay or stone or iron, he sees the result of every stroke. He sees the fragments of the marble fly - and the figure of his vision coming out a little more clearly as he hews away. He sees the rough timber grow into smoothness and beauty of form, beneath his saw and plane.

But work on minds and hearts is slow. We cannot take a crude life - and make it lovely in a day, as one can dress and carve a piece of wood. We cannot change a fiery, tumultuous, restless spirit - to peace, love, and gentleness in one hour, as the sculptor can hew a block of stone into grace. It takes years ofttimes, to teach one moral or spiritual lesson. Many times we do sad hurt to God's work in human lives - by our want of patience. A boy plants his grains of corn in the garden, and at once begins to look for them to grow. The second morning, seeing no points of green pushing up through the soil, he digs the clay away and lays bare the seeds to see what is wrong. In his impatient haste - he kills the germs and the seeds never grow at all. He ought to have waited for God.

A writer tells of his experience in hurrying God with the development of an insect. For nearly a year he kept the cocoon of an emperor moth. It was shaped like a flask, and in the neck end of it was a little opening. That was where the creature was to crawl out when nature's time - God's time - came. But this opening seemed so small, so much smaller than the insect imprisoned within, that one wonders how it is ever going to get out. Then when it begins to come out of its cocoon, it is with great labor and difficulty that it escapes.

This man at last saw the first efforts of the moth to break away from its prison. For a whole forenoon he watched it striving and struggling to get out. It did not appear able to advance beyond a certain point. The opening seemed too narrow. He pitied the poor creature, shut up and unable to escape - and thought he would help it. He supposed he was doing a kindness. He took his scissors and snipped the fine threads to make the opening a little wider. In a moment more, without any further struggle or difficulty - out crawled the moth. But it had a huge, swollen body - and little shriveled wings. It had not the graceful form it ought to have had. The gentleman watched to see the transformation take place, the dwarfed wings expand into their radiant beauty. But he looked in vain. The moth did not develop at all into loveliness. It never did. He had destroyed it - in trying to help it. His kindness - had proved the creature's ruin! It was never anything but a stunted abortion, crawling painfully through the brief life which it should have spent flying through the air on rainbow wings. This friend of the little insect, was guilty of cruelty instead of being kind.

God's slower way was the right way, and he would better have waited for God. If he had, it would have taken longer time and it would not have been so easy for the moth - it would have had to crawl out with great pain and difficulty - but the result would have been a beautiful butterfly, with brilliant wings, flying through the air - and not a poor, misshapen creature, crawling about on the ground.

This is a picture of what we do many a time - in trying to help God bring souls into the light, or to bring out some spiritual beauty in the life we want to help.

We are not too eager to do good - we never can be that; our whole soul should be full of the desire to bless others. But we are in too great haste. We have not patience enough to wait for God. We try to hurry the results we seek. We cannot wait for the seeds to grow. We do not give hearts time to develop their love, their confidence, their gentleness; we try to hasten these fruits of the Spirit. The result is, that the lives we thus help to premature development are never so beautiful as they would have been - if we had waited for God.

We need to learn the lesson also in the living of our own life. We are apt to grow impatient with our own progress. Many a young person, in his eagerness to get on in his course and enter active life - mars his work and lessens his own efficiency. It is better to wait for God. Jesus was in no hurry to begin His work. He spent thirty quiet years in preparation, in study, in thought, in simple common duty, waiting patiently for God's time for Him to go forth to His public ministry. Thirty years of preparation - and then only three years of work. But we know what kind of work He did in those brief years! Every word He spoke - was a word of power. Everything He did - left an impression on the ages. Those three years of ministry have been more to the world - than a thousand years of the immature, imperfect, fragmentary work many of us do. If with His sinless humanity and His perfect powers - He waited thirty years, in preparing for three years of ministry; we need far more than He, to be patient and wait for God before we go out to speak and work for Him. If we put more time into preparation, the fewer years left us for work, would count for far more in the end - than do now our many years filled with immaturity, with work that counts for little, with words without wisdom and without weight. Let us wait for the Lord that our work, when the time comes for work, may have power and good in it.

We need to wait for God, also, in finding our way in this world. Duty is not always plain for us at once. We come continually to points where we cannot tell which way we ought to go. If we are God's children and are faithfully following Christ, we shall never have to take one step in the dark. Jesus said, "He who follows me - shall not walk in darkness." This means that duty will always be made clear. We shall never have to stumble along in uncertainty. We shall be able to make the right decisions and the right choices. But we must always wait for God. If we insist on running on before Him, of course we shall be in the dark. It is just as dark in advance of God's glorious leading - as it is a way behind Him. If we would know the way and see what our duty is - we must wait for the Lord.

For example, if you come to a wise friend with a question about what you should do next year, or next autumn, or even next week, it is probable that all the friend can say will be, "Wait." You are not sure of having any next year, or next autumn, or next week. The question of duty - may be the one that must wait until the time comes. You are sorely perplexed about what you ought to do in some matter that touches your life in a very close and sacred way. Yet the answering of it is beset with difficulties. You cannot tell what you ought to do or say. On neither hand is the way open and plain. The Word of God to you is, "Wait for the Lord."

But it seems to you, that the answer must be given now, at once. The question stands clamoring at your door and needs immediate decision. But no clamoring of any question, no pressure of friends for your decision, no impatience of your own heart for action - should he allowed to compel you to decide upon your course in the dark, or until the way is clear and the duty plain. God never requires us to walk in darkness, even for one single step. Therefore, inexorably refuse to answer any question or decide any matter - until you know what you are doing. Guess work and stumbling are never necessary. Wait for God. You are trying to go faster than He is moving. Wait until He comes up, and then the way will no longer lie in darkness.

There is a bit of Scripture which says, "The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord." Psalms 37:23. Mark, it is our steps that He orders. He does not give us a map of the world with all our paths traced out upon it, so that we can see our whole course for years. He orders our steps. And that means that He will always show us one step - but it is the next step that He shows, not one a mile ahead. And this next step will always lie in the light, although the second step may yet be hidden in the darkness, and must be waited for. But the one step is the only one you need to take this moment.

You may think that you must answer some question or decide some matter immediately, even though it is all dark to you, and your answer or decision must be only a guess. Nay, wait for God. When He comes - you will be able to answer or decide clearly. If you compel yourself to make a decision in the dark, in uncertainty, it is not God's leading. You have decided too soon. Tomorrow or a few days or weeks hence - it may appear to you to have been a wrong decision - but then it will be too late to change it. Wait for the Lord.

Another application of this lesson is with, reference to suffering wrongs at the hands of others. Naturally we all like to take care of our own rights. We start up quickly in self-defense when we are assailed, when anyone speaks against us or harms us in any way. But this is not the Christian way. The gospel of Christ leaves very small room for self - defense. "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also." "Do not take revenge, my friends." So runs the law of Christian life.

What shall we do, then, when others defame us, or say false things of us, or seek to harm us? Two things: our simple duty, and then, wait for the Lord. Vindication is better left with Him. That is what this same Psalm teaches in verses 5 and 6: "Commit your way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your judgment as the noonday." We may safely leave our name, our reputation, our character, in God's hands - when we are innocent of the things men charge against us. If we quietly go on with our work and our duty - God will take care that in the end vindication shall come.

It is better usually that we should not meddle with the matter at all. Our impatience, our hurry to help God vindicate us, ofttimes only does harm. Be silent and wait for the Lord. We cannot go on without God; to do so is to walk in darkness. But if we would have God with us, we must wait for Him. We must wait for Him to work out His providences, until His purpose has been accomplished; meanwhile trusting Him and resting in His love. We must wait for Him to come to our relief, when we are in circumstances of trial and perplexity. We must wait for Him to answer our prayers, not losing heart because He sometimes delays. We must wait for Him in our work for others, in trying to help them, lest in our eagerness we hasten the processes of His will - and stunt or mar or destroy that which with patience would have been beautiful. We must wait for God in every step of our life.

Peace comes in waiting for God. It is our restlessness that makes life so painful for many of us. "Does your limb hurt you severely?" asked one of a friend who lay with a broken leg. "Not when I keep still," was the answer. If we would keep still when trial is upon us, and be silent to God - we would have power.

It is a lesson of hope, too, as well as of faith. The things that perplex and try us, are God's unfinished works. When they are finished, there will be no confusion, no evil, no hurt in them. Bear the pain now - for pain is God's way to health. Accept the cross now - for the cross is God's way to the crown. Endure the plowshare that drives now through your field - for it is God's way to a golden harvest. Be patient with the slowness of Providence, for God works for eternal years. Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. The finished work by and by, will explain all that is now dark and hard and slow.

#Devotional Hours Within the Bible #J.R. Miller #devotional #March 14 #Waiting for God #Psalm 37:7 #2021