just assume i'm drunk.
[this is not a safe space]
ashleigh of a lot of feelings, mostly negative. [only positive concerning lea michele's everything and naya rivera's derp.]
if you are under the age of majority in your jurisdiction, let's be real, there's not much i can do about it. but you shouldn't be here.
creeps creeping
ao3 / tumblr fic / ficlets / gifs
jakeverse / me
pairing: pezberry, nominally. more like pre-pezberry.
rating: G.
length: ~3000.
summary: Two weeks later, she’s back in Lima and Finn is gone.
notes: this is really a rachel fic, in which santana exists. but, i have every intention of writing more in this world.
…
New York is somehow more consuming than even she could have imagined. As is typical of Manhattan-based colleges, she discovers, NYADA doesn’t have a campus so much as a collection of buildings. The freshman dorms are right beside the main teaching building, the one with the big theaters and the large stages. But there are other places to go, and she quickly realizes that she is going to need to learn to tell north from south.
(also at ff.net)
we’re finally getting closer to what, let’s admit it, we’re all really here for: rachel and santana’s kid interacting.
a very big thanks to the regular crew of hand-holders.
if you are reading this somewhere that let me get away with not tagging the prologue, thanks for showing up in the first place :)
………….
rating: PG.
length: ~3300
notes: happy valentine’s day. this is 100% ripping off paying homage to the season 1 valentine’s day episode of mad about you (114, ‘love among the tiles’). this may or may not work if you’ve never seen it, but i think you should be fine.
warnings: fluff. so much fluff oh my god.
…
They’re running so late.
Santana’s dragging mascara across her eyelashes, and Rachel’s still in the shower singing ‘New York, New York’, which—
“You promised,” she calls over the running water.
“Sorry,” is all she gets in response, and then Rachel switches to ‘Empire State of Mind’, which is less annoying and more hilarious, but seriously, “Can you hurry up, Ray-Z, we’re going to be late.”
She recaps the mascara and is digging around for her lip gloss when she notices Asparagus drinking out of the toilet. “Ew, Rach, he’s doing it again.”
Rachel’s head pokes around the shower curtain. “Just put him outside and close the door.”
“Why do we have to spend Valentine’s Day with Blaine and Kurt, anyway?” she asks for what is admittedly the thirtieth time that day. She closes the bathroom door on Gus and goes back to the mirror.
“Because we promised—”
”You promised.”
“—and it’s Kurt’s favorite holiday. He loves match-making, you know that.”
“So? We don’t need match-making. We’re matched, there’s nothing to be made.”
“Exactly. We’re the role models.”
“Now that’s scary.”
“Santana, come on,” Rachel says. Santana hears the water shut off, can see Rachel climb out of the tub in the mirror, water dripping all over the mat and tiles.
“Oh, I’ll ‘come on’,” she says, turning and leaning back on the sink. “I’ll ‘come on’ all night, if you want.”
“Santana,” Rachel isn’t even looking at her, wrapping a towel around herself and tucking the end between her breasts.
“Am I really out of line, wanting to just stay home and have sex with my wife on Valentine’s Day,” she asks, thinking of the super fine scraps of lace in Rachel’s size that she’d been gifted with that morning.
Rachel pauses. “No.” She’s got this little smile that she gets whenever she thinks about them together — making love, Rachel would call it, even when it’s some of the filthiest fucking she’s ever engaged in — and beckons Santana over.
She curls her hands around Rachel’s towel-covered hips, pulling her closer. Tiny drops of water fall from the ends of Rachel’s hair, soaking into her shirt.
“And when we get home, that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Rachel leans up and kisses her for a long moment, then pulls away. “Now stop distracting me, we’re running late.”
Santana’s busy sputtering about who exactly is making whom late, when Rachel turns away and pulls the door open. Or what should be the door opening, but is instead the doorknob coming away, a piece of it falling to the floor with a metal crash.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
rating: nc-17 (for santana’s mouth now, who knows what for later.)
notes: the fic formerly known as jake lopez-chang. this is going to be long.
…
She’s not going to yell, even if they are five-hundred dollar boots.
rating: nc-17
length: ~3k
summary: As she makes her way up the stairs she sees Sam hugging Daddy, very briefly, and wonders when that happened, when Sam had become such a part of her family that he hugged her fathers good night like a good son. Or perhaps not even like a good son, just like a Sam, who understands these things better than anyone else their age.
Obviously she has lived with her dads her whole life, but this is different. Sam is someone she once asked to prom, had been partnered with on stage, had seen dancing almost naked.
Five websites Santana visits while trying to deal with her gayness.
NC-17, ~1000 words.
Brittana, mention of Pucktana.
[part one]
redtube.com [nsfw]
It’s late, and she’s curious. Not because she thinks she’s bad at it, but you know, she wants to be good at it.
