This one shot; was written as an apology for my girlfriend after I rained on her parade about Naya’s Rachel and Santana kissing tweet. But there is also Dantana, Rachel/Dani and hints of Faberry.
It happens kind of on accident, actually. They’ve been together for three years when the same play they saw together on their first date is showing again. New theatre, new cast, but the same one. Santana is not a total failure in the romance department and manages to make reservations for the same restaurant they had dinner at, too.
They’re a little more well off than three years ago, and definitely more famous, so the restaurant is definitely at the lowest end of low key. There are no paparazzi there, and Rachel is so relieved to just hold Santana’s hand at the dinner table without getting a text from Kurt letting her know TMZ has a picture of them on the internet already.
She’s totally embarrassed that Rachel called her mom to come help after her surgery. It’s not like she won’t be totally ambulatory. But, apparently, since Rachel has a show the day after Santana gets her wisdom teeth removed, she thinks it’s important Santana have a babysitter.
At least it’s not Kurt, who would probably make a Vine of her high on pain medication and then her acting career would be done before she even gets to film the pilot of this new show she landed.
Which, this dumb show is why she’s even having the surgery in the first place. They start filming in a month and the pain in her jaw was almost excruciating, so she sucked it up and got the procedure done.
The cab ride home is a blur. She remembers Rachel holding her hand, the cabbie singing along to Uncle Kracker on the radio, and then her mom helping her out of the car.
Written for Pooh for the FaberryCon Fanfiction Fundraiser Project. Prompt: Pezberry shower smut.
Or below the cut:
This was literally written today as an early birthday gift for my girlfriend; who is probably the only person I will ever write Pezberry for. Happy birthday baby; I hope you like it and I hope you have an amazing day tomorrow.
Word count: 4,1k (total: 8,8k)
Summary: She tries to feel around just above the edge of her pajama pants and it’s still just her, nothing flourishing inside, no tingly feelings awakening her to motherhood. It’s just her. Her hipbones, her belly button, her body that she’s known forever.
Alt. link: ffnet
My first ever attempt at writing romantic Pezberry so I hope I do them justice. This story came from a prompt for the Faberrycon Fanfiction Fundraiser Project and the buyer/reader has agreed that I can share it with all of the Pezberry fandom as well as any other fandom if they’re so inclined.
For more information on the Faberrycon Fic fundraiser please check it out by following the link below. And if you’re interested in maybe having a customized fic written by an amazing author there are still plenty of authors and slots available. So go check it out and help support Faberrycon. Thank you!
Title: The End Depends Upon the Beginning.
Word Count: 5,034 words.
Notes: Prompt fill for the GGSM. AU. This was a lot of fun to write, not least because I got to write new backstory for Santana and Rachel both, and incorporate other characters in different ways than we ordinarily see in canon. The title of the story is a translation of Phillips Academy’s motto: ‘Finis Origine Pendet.’ Phillips is also referenced throughout. Thank you, as ever, to @cargoes for her beta skills and cheerleading.
Summary: Rachel Berry, newly arrived in New York from Massachusetts, has a neat, fixed idea of what her college experience will be. That idea, and her world, is turned on its head when she crosses paths with her new roommate, Santana Lopez.
“It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends in high school, but those friends were nothing like Santana Lopez.”
Synopsis: In Little Encounters, Rachel’s little vow of silence revealed certain desires that Santana had. Eventually, they had sex in Mercedes bathroom, but now it’s been a month since Santana’s had anything to do with Rachel and the diva realizes she’s going to have to amp up her game in order to get Santana’s attention – and keep it for good. (This is, by the way, a one-shot and the final continuation of Little Encounters.)
Author’s Note: Lyrics in this one-shot are from The Civil Wars’ song, “To Whom It May Concern.” I decided to finally get around to doing this continuation because more than one person has requested that the original one-shot be continued. Normally I leave one-shots be, and let them stand on their own, but I realized there was more story after the end of the last. This truly is the only continuation of Little Encounters, and hopefully it satisfies the desire you all had to see the story out fully.
This is just something I was gonna submit for Nique, but I needed fluff asap. It’s a bit rushed and I’ve never been to the Bronx Zoo, but whatever. It’s based on this picture:
Santana mentally focuses all her pent-up anger at having work two separate shifts on a Sunday at her boss, not at the 187 transfers she has to make to get to the Bronx Zoo to meet Rachel.
because I saw this picture and had feels.
Her night has been a ball of fucking fun she’ll have you know. And by that she means she’s been sitting on the couch in an old ass tee shirt and her favorite pair of new panties watching TV and drinking wine.
She spent an insane amount of time in the studio earlier, trying to finish the three interludes that will be on her new mixtape. After that (and feeding herself) she didn’t want to do anything else.
Rachel’s been gone all day, but they’ve been texting back and forth. There was a particularly dirty stream of them being sent earlier that has her dying for the girl to come home.
Rachel is basically a fucking starlet and it’s awesome. She never really knew that she could ever be as happy as she is about the girl finding fame. That of course has a lot to do with the fact that she’s, y’know, in love with her. Though, she knows that even if they were just friends, like they were two years ago, she’d be proud, too.
Anyway, this newfound stardom means sometimes she sees her girl on TV and tonight is one of those nights. She’s doing one of those late shows with some moderately funny white guy whose name Santana has never bothered to remember.
Rachel comes out in this hot as fuck dress that covers approximately nothing. It’s black and gold and pretty as hell, too, but Santana could care less about all that. Her girl’s legs look phenomenal and she’s wet in about two seconds flat because of it. She kind of groans because she’s here and Rachel’s there.
(She’s told Rachel that she has thighs made for shoulders and when she said it, she meant hers.
Her train of thought just keeps drifting down, down, down. No pun intended.)
Still, it’s awesome getting to see her girlfriend charm the pants off of Mr. Could-Be-Funnier and the studio audience, but mostly she’s waiting for the thing to end so her girl can come home in that dress.
She’s one and a half shades to the wind (thank you, Pinot) when she hears the locks on their apartment door clicking and the telltale sound of Rachel’s keychains clicking together. She turns her head just as Rachel comes through the door.
Her lips are that pretty pink they turn from the chill of the wind and she’s bundled in a leather jacket she stole from Santana. Underneath is … “Wait a minute,” she says out loud in place of like, hello.
Rachel stops walking toward her, brows knitting together in confusion. “What?”
“Where’s the dress?” She asks dumbly because Rachel’s wearing a pair of jeans and a chambray shirt and not the thing Santana’s been thinking about stripping her of for the last two hours.
Rachel wets her lips absently. It’s one of those hot things she does that she doesn’t realize that drives Santana nuts. “Um, with Miguel?” The girl’s obviously confused.
Santana does not want to be pouting but she kind of his. “You were supposed to be wearing it,” she says and Rachel does that chuckle that means she’s not actually laughing but annoyed.
“Hello to you too, Santana,” she says, kicking off a pair of Jordans that Santana talked her into buying. They look super cute on her little feet and she likes to joke that they’re toddler sized to piss her off.
Santana huffs and like, she doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, but she is sort of. Regardless, she’s happy to see her girlfriend and she hasn’t made that very clear at all. She stands and pads over to Rachel who is giving her one of those looks she knows she’ll have to kiss away.
“Sorry,” she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around Rachel’s waist and pulling her close. Rachel rolls her eyes and bites down on her lip. She’s gotten plenty of speeches about her manners and she really does not want one tonight. “I didn’t mean to be a dick.”
“You never do,” Rachel says all matter-of-fact but her hands are rubbing the small of Santana’s back so she’s pretty sure she can shift this night back into her favor.
“Hi,” she says before pressing their lips together once, twice, three times. The girl’s body has melted into her by the third. The hands on her back scratching lightly. “I missed you,” she adds because it’s true and because she knows Rachel likes to hear it.
“Missed you too, jerk,” Rachel says before kissing her again. “It’d be nice if you’d greeted me like you actually meant that statement,” she adds.
“I’m sorry you looked hot as fuck. You know I short circuit.”
“It’s pretty sad actually,” her girlfriend teases, poking at her cheek. Rachel’s fingers slip beneath the band on her boyshorts, digging into her hip. The girl is always, always the best of both worlds.
“Dress or not, I’d like to bang you. So, if we can just take this,” she says, steering Rachel toward their bedroom, lips “To the bed. I can show you exactly how much I missed you.”
“I’d like that.”
After an amazing response to the survey, it has been decided that the themes will be the following:
- Monday 11 Feb - Broadway rivals
- Tuesday 12 Feb - Mafia Santana and Burlesque Dancer Rachel
- Wednesday 13 Feb - Camping trip
- Thursday 14 Feb - Having children
- Friday 15 Feb - Time travel (Pezberry from the future meeting past Pezberry)
- Saturday 16 Feb - Intoxication
- Sunday 17 Feb - Free day
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Rachel flopped onto the park bench, exhausted.
“Balls of energy, aren’t they?” another mom commented fondly.
“Which ones are yours?”
“The twins over there,” Rachel answered. “Kona’s got a Mohawk and Kai’s got the tiny afro.”
“They’re precious! You and your husband must be so proud.”
“My wife, actually, and we are,” Rachel said with a smile.
The lady’s demeanor changed just slightly. Her smile faltered for a split second. “Well…yes. They are adorable.” She turned back to the other mom without another word to Rachel.