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mrsaltieri-real · 3 months

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First Love, Familiar Love (Billy Loomis x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: language, smut, oral, (fem receiving) fingering, p in v, creampie, cheating, (kinda) first love, semi-public sex, light dirty talk, pre-established toxic relationship.

A/N: I’m so happy to have (finally) written my first full length Billy Loomis fic! I’ve done a lot of Ethan and a fuck ton of Mickey, how dare I have taken so long to write for the fine as fuck OG! Going to dabble in some poly!Ghostface soon which I’m very excited about but for now, sit back, relax and I hope you enjoy!

@darklylucid I have a feeling your Billy loving self will get a kick outta this for sure ;)

You’d never given much thought to relationships since your last. The thought of never having another first filled you with an undeniable sense of unease. No more first kisses, first date, first fuck, what was the point?

Why commit yourself to a long life of repetition when you could simply carry on having firsts? Especially when you couldn’t have the person you’d already had your firsts with anymore.

Billy was someone you hadn’t paid much attention to, not since the two of you had ended your very brief yet even more intense relationship a few years back.

The two of you were young, stupid and each other's firsts. It wasn’t a healthy relationship by any means, and it ended as such. Even though you knew it was definitely for the best, you knew there was a part of you that didn’t think it was over. Not yet.

He was hot, undoubtedly having grown into himself over the years when you’d stopped paying attention, but he had also grown more serious. He constantly looked like he was deep in thought, gnawing on the tip of his pen in class whilst clearly not paying attention on the few occasions you’d find your eyes drifting over to him, seeing him completely lost in his own mind.

You didn’t run in the same social circle anymore, inside of school or out. Although that being the case, your friend and colleague at the video store, Randy most certainly did.

It never made much sense as to why Randy would hang around with the likes of Billy Loomis. Other than their shared affiliation of horror movies, they seemed to merely tolerate each other, if that. You were met with the angry rambling of what Billy had done that day from Randy, listening to the boy curse about how much of an asshole he was.

How could you possibly begin to forget about Billy when he was brought up practically all of the time?

“If he’s so much of an asshole, stop hanging out with the guy.” You’d suggested after a particularly long rant from Randy about him, mindlessly drumming your fingers on the counter.

Randy scoffed, pulling the red vine he was chewing on out of his mouth before replying, “I’ve been friends with the rest of them for years, I’m not just gonna stop hanging out with them because Billy Loomis is a fucking asshole.”

You rolled your eyes, sarcastically holding up your hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever. You go home and chill the hell out, I’ll close up.”

Randy hopped down from the register, patting you on the shoulder as you said goodbye.

Being here by yourself was always better anyway. You liked to clean and organize, finding order in the never ending chaos, but it never surprised you just how messy the store would get by the time closing rolled around. The popcorn machine Randy had recommended to the manager like an idiot needed a thorough deep cleaning, kernels were scattered everywhere, tapes were placed in the wrong section, some of them somehow seemed to be missing altogether.

Fucking mahem.

You heard the tingling of the bell above the door as it swung open. “Sorry, we’re closed,” you called out, not bothering to look up from your sweeping.

The door clicked closed quietly and you briefly paused before glancing up.

Billy stood leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the withered old wood. He was quite clearly relishing in your confused expression as you looked back at him with cautious eyes.

“Hey… Billy.” You said, eyeing him briefly. “Randy’s gone home.”

“Oh, I know. I was waiting for him to leave.” Billy picked up a tape that was laying beside him, flipping it over to read the cover.

Your confusion and curiosity continued to grow, but it turned into annoyance when you realised you’d actually have to continue to talk to him.

“That’s kinda creepy.” You muttered, letting the broom rest against a glass case. “We’re closed.” You said again, pointing at the clock.

He didn’t look at it, his eyes flickering up from the case to favour resting on you instead.

“Are you fucking him?”

You looked at him, eyebrows arching a fraction. “Am I fucking who?”

“Randy.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst through your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as you grabbed the broom again. You’d forgotten the fucking nerve of this guy. “Go home, Billy.”

You heard the clatter of the tape hit the counter as he began to stride toward you. “So, you are?”

“Yeah, I’m not dignifying that with a response.” He stopped about a foot away, his hand resting on the freshly cleaned glass display with all the rare tapes. “Can you, like, not? I just cleaned that.” You sighed, stepping forward to slap his hand away.

He didn’t move as you did so, seeming to find your reaction more funny than anything. “You haven’t changed much.” He commented, bringing his free hand up to swipe some loose hair out of his face.

You ignored his comment, looking up at him and feeling nothing but irritation. “Billy, what do you want, seriously? Because the sooner I clean up here, the sooner I can go home.”

Billy shrugged, drumming his fingers against the glass. “I don’t know, I was walking home, saw Randy leave, noticed you were by yourself. Thought you’d appreciate the company.”

“Mmhm. Sure.” You sighed, moving to step around him and deciding to just act like he wasn’t there. That’s when it hit you, the all too familiar scent of his cologne. It smelled exactly like the one you’d gotten him for his birthday a couple of years back. The smell rekindled the brief yet fond memories you’d had with him and it made your heart skip a beat.

Billy had noticed your pause and his face turned from indifferent to slightly concerned. He said your name, tilting his head down to look at you.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times before shaking your head. “Go home, Billy.” You said again, though your voice wasn’t anywhere near as confident.

“I miss you.”

Those three words made you flinch, your grip on the handle of the broom tightening. You didn’t want him to miss you, you didn’t want him to be thinking about you. Didn’t he have a girlfriend now?

I asked him as much and he half smiled, shaking his head. “Sidney? Nah, I’m seeing her, sure, but it’s not… like that.”

“Oh, so your girlfriend isn’t putting out so you thought you’d pop along and see if I would?” Billy seemed to ignore you, his eyes trailing across your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as he did, those annoyingly magnetic brown eyes felt like they were boring straight into your damn soul.

“No, like I said I was walking home and saw you by yourself.” His smile grew a touch, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

Liar. But why did you find yourself falling for it?

“I’m not fucking Randy.” You said quietly. He finally looked into your eyes, the half smile turning into a grin. “Oh, I know. But I needed to try and start a conversation with you somehow, didn’t I?“

You caught yourself smiling as you shook your head. “Asshole.”

Billy chuckled as he brought up his hand, letting his fingers glide across your cheekbone. “Missed you.” He said again, his voice much softer this time without a hint of teasing.

Why were you falling for this crap? Was it because he was your first? First fucking everything? Probably. But you caught yourself not caring as you leaned into his warm touch, letting the familiarity wash over you entirely.

“Missed you.” You echoed softly.

His smell was intoxicating, familiar. Who cares if you’d hardly spoken to him in years? Who cares that it took you this long to get over him entirely.

His lips touched yours before you finished your train of thought. Comfortable. Familiar. You felt yourself melt into it, your fingers curling around the soft material of his plaid shirt as you pulled yourself closer to him, his thumb still gently grazing your cheek.

Fuck, he’d missed you. How your lips tasted, how your breath would quiver and shake every time he was close to you. He couldn’t remember why he was ever stupid enough to let you go entirely.

Before he and Stu put their plan into motion, he knew he had to do this, he had to be with you at least once more time. Taste you, touch you, feel you. Because once he was “serious” with Sidney, he wouldn’t be able to lead you on like that. Not you, you were always his.

His kiss turned more possessive than gentle, his hands sliding down to your waist and under your shirt, his blunt fingers digging into your soft, bare skin. He felt your breathing hitch against him as he pulled your body impossibly closer to his, letting you feel him hardening against you.

It wasn’t long before he’d picked you up and placed you on the glass, hoisting your skirt around your waist and carefully pulling your baby pink panties down your legs, letting his fingers brush your inner thigh as he did.

“Fuck, look how fucking wet you are for me.” He groaned, sliding his finger between your velvety folds to collect the moisture before he brought it to his lips. You were pathetically oversensitive, your cunt clenching around nothing the moment he touched you.

He liked that, he’d forgotten how needy you were, how much your body reacted to the slightest of advances. He couldn’t help but smile as he continued to tease, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, barely even touching you.

It dawned on you how long it had been since you’d been touched like this, and you craved more.

“Please, Billy.” You whined, beginning to grow uncomfortable with the lack of stimulation.

For once, he didn’t need much prompting.

His mouth latched onto your aching clit, sucking at it hungrily and growing at your familiar taste he’d missed so much. His hands pushed your legs further apart for better access, feeling how you throbbed against his mouth. Your hands automatically fell into his soft hair, biting your bottom lip as you tugged at it, your head falling back.

He’d been good with his mouth before, but he’d definitely gotten better. His skilled tongue flicked over your clit, one of his hands moving from your thigh to plunge two fingers inside of your cunt as he continued to lick and suck.

“Oh!” You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled his face impossibly closer to you. He curled up his fingers in response, pressing against the spongy tissue and making your body jerk in response. He knew your body far too well, and had clearly never forgotten how to make you respond to him.

He didn’t want you to cum, not yet. He pulled away all too soon, smiling as he saw the all too familiar mixture of turned on and pissed off gracing your features. He straightened up, his hand moving to grip the base of your hair tightly, making you look up into his brown eyes.

“Do you want it?” He asked, voice smooth and even as ever. All you could do was faintly whisper “yes” in response. That’s all he needed.

Billy didn’t drop his eyes from yours as he smoothly unbuckled his belt, pulling it off and discarding it thoughtlessly, his pants coming down shortly after, but only part way down his ass. He just didn’t want to waste any time.

One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other pumped his cock a few times before nestling the tip at the entrance of your aching cunt. You whined softly, wriggling a little only to be grounded by his large hand before he pushed himself inside of your soaked hole.

You couldn’t help the gasp as he filled you, suddenly feeling deliciously full. Familiarly full. He seemed to feel it too, a soft groan in your ear as he pulled you closer to him by your hips.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this cunt so much.” He sighed into your hair, savouring the feeling of your cunt engulfing him for the first time in years. You were growing more and more impatient, needing movement and friction and he chuckled at you desperate movements from under his grounding hands. “I forgot how impatient you are.”

“Billy, just… Fuck me for God’s sake.” You’d meant for it to come out as an order, but it came out as a plea. He chuckled again, slowly rolling his hips back just to snap the forward again sharply, the sensation making you jolt and sigh into his shoulder.

“So bossy, aren’t you, sweetheart? Some things never change, hm?”

You ignore his teasing voice, your focus entirely surrounding how good his cock made you feel so fucking effortlessly. He hardly even had to try and here you were, already a leaking mess for him.

He held you more securely, one of his hands firmly pressing against the small of your back whilst the other swiftly tucked under your knee, holding your leg more securely around his waist as he fucked you.

He knew your body better than you did, he knew what drove you wild. The kisses he scattered across your neck and down your collarbone drove you insane. The way his fingers would dig into your skin, his breathing in your ear, the filth he was whispering to you…

“Fuck, Billy please don’t stop.” You begged him, pushing yourself down against him greedily, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He continued fucking your on the glass display case as he laughed out, “Think I’m gonna? No fucking way. Been thinking about getting back into this cunt for far too long.”

His words made you moan louder, your fingers clinging to his bicep, nails digging into the toned muscle harshly. He let out something akin to a growl, his own fingers digging into your soft skin hard enough to undoubtedly leave bruises in their wake.

He fucked you in a way you feared only her was able to, slamming into your convulsing pussy vigorously, ruthlessly. Your head fell back, eyes beginning to roll as you felt yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your clit bumped against him with every thrust, the stimulation only making you feel weaker and weaker. He watched your face, the look of pure ecstasy only making him more and more desperate to cum. No way he was about to pull out.

“Billy… Close…” You managed to utter out. In the past, that was his cue to prepare to pull out. But right now? Fuck that. He held you tighter, his fingers sliding from your hip to your clit to drag circles across it, feeling your cunt tense around him as he did.

“Do it.” He said, his own voice a little breathless.

You couldn’t think, could only focus on how fucking good he was making you feel. Your body stuff ended for a second before you came on his cock, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you heard him let out a loud groan and a second later, his hot cum filling up your still convulsing pussy. But you didn’t care. Your body remained flush against his for a couple of seconds, soaking in the feeling of his cum filling you up so deliciously.

He gradually softened, pulling himself out of your stuffed cunt and casually pulling his pants back up before grabbing his belt.

You remained sitting on the glass case, Billy’s spunk mixed with your own wetness leaking out of you and making a mess of the glass. He couldn’t help but smile, shrugging once.

“Well, shit, you’ve got more of a cleanup to do now, my bad.”

You rolled your eyes at him, waiting for your thighs to stop trembling before jumping down from the display case and grabbing your panties, about to pull them back on before they were snatched out of your hand.

“What are you-“

“I think I should keep them. As a memento, you know?” He interrupted, the stupid smile that got you back into this situation illuminating his pretty face.

“Oh, right. Forgot how much you like to steal my underwear. Weirdo.” You muttered, squirming a little at the feeling of Billy’s cum leaking out of you onto your inner thighs.

Billy watched you squirm for a moment, the smile never faltering. “Mm. You know, I wish I’d cum inside you before. I like seeing you like this.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. “I have to clean up.” You said pointedly.

Billy raised an eyebrow a fraction, eyes flickering down toward your stained thighs.

“You’re telling me.”

#ahhh my first billy loomis fic #he’s been on my mind none stop #so here it is!#I’m so happy to finally have him officially on the roster #pretty angel #hope you enjoy!#scream #billy loomis smut #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader

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dduane · 1 year

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BTW… re: Smut

... off my comment to this post the other day...

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say. If someone's jerking off to my erotica, then all I can do is lean back in the typing chair, smile a bit, and think, Good! I got the job done. :)

(...with the tags: #and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:) ...)

...and then noting (with affectionate amusement) some responses:

Well, troops, better get busy filling in that bingo box. 😄

Also: I have to say (while stressing that I absolutely appreciate the humor behind "shocked, shocked, scandalized...") that the dissonance is, temporally speaking, a bit ill-founded. Because while I may be best known for the Young Wizards works these days... by no means did they come first. This did.

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Granted, from the here-and-now POV of readers with access to the hot-'n'-spicy shipfic or PWP on AO3, this sort of thing (and the numerous other lights-often-off or dialogue-only sexytiems passages in the traditionally published Middle Kingdoms works) would be seen as pretty small beer: soft, non-edgy stuff. Yet in 1979 apparently there were those who found the sex and sexualities on display in The Door Into Fire arresting enough that the book got me nominated for the Astounding Award (for best new author in the field) two years in a row.

There's no question that the broadly inclusive tone set by the Middle Kingdoms books went on to affect and underlie the YW universe in very basic ways. (There've been some scholarly works written by academics who've picked up on this, so [much to my relief] this perception hasn't been just me imagining it.) But I'll grant you that those who don't know the MK novels wouldn't be in a position to make the connection. (shrug) This is just one of those things that comes of having a lot of fragmented readerships who don't know about each other... a side effect of having done a lot of different things during a career. I can also understand how not knowing about the MK works could leave people who know me only, or primarily, as someone writing for a younger readership, a little bit disoriented (or maybe concerned) when the issue of me writing openly sexual material rears its head. But that wouldn’t be a change of direction. It’d be, to some extent, more a return to form.

Anyway: I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed...) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you're willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it's to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added... let's just say nuance. 😏

Now this whole concept will doubtless horrify some of the "Eww, You're Too Old To Be Writing This Kind Of Thing, Go Get A (Home) Life" types. To which all I can say is, "...Well, good!" By and large, such folks are not my readers anyway. And as for any of them who are, and can't deal…? They need to understand that (pointing off to one side) those people over there—the various kinda-straight and pansexual and bisexual humans, and the gender-fluid fire elemental, and the otherly-gendered Dragon, and the mostly-gay ones enthusiastically shouting "We're fuckinnnng!" down the stairs—are Nita's and Kit's godparents. Without the members of that extremely mixed marriage and their increasingly extended family, there might be no Young Wizards series... not least because it was the splash made by the first of the Middle Kingdoms books that got the Errantryverse crowd in through a major publisher's door. And the series’s continued (modest but still noticeable) success through the second and third volumes kept the writing of new YW books going for a good long while.

...So. For those who may have had questions: HTH. 😀

(And now back to the unending search for a more graceful synonym for “testicles”.)

#Young Wizards #Middle Kingdoms #writing young adult fiction #writing adult fiction #writing adults-ONLY fiction #all sisters under the skin

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dpr-stay · 10 months

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Whoops | YT22

Yuki Tsunoda x driver!reader

SMAU & written

Warnings: A little bit of smut (more lime iykwim) Still would recommend MDNI

Wc ~ 2.3k

Hey y’all 🤪

Anyways, wrote this last night and spent forever doing the social media part bcs it was fun. Haven’t edited it! Sorry! And it may be a bit ooc (?) but I imagine Yuki as some suave guy behind doors so whoops.

(Also sorry if you’re here for stray kids)

———

Heavy hands lay secure on your hips as you sat perched on his lap. Dark eyes stared into yours, both of them encapsulated in unrestrained lust. Yuki squeezed your hips as he brought you in for another kiss.

If only Franz Tost could see you now, huh. He’d been hesitant about hiring a girl to fill Gasly’s seat after he left because he was worried that her and Yuki wouldn’t get along. Boy was he wrong.

Yuki groaned into your mouth as you lowered yourself down till you were aligned. A quick nudge of your hips caused you both to moan, as the tension from the day released out of the both of you.

It was tough race, you barely making it into the points and Yuki a bit below you. The car was shit, but that was to be expected. You’d both spent countless hours in the sims, trying to somehow uncover a way to make the car work better but it was a lost cause.

After one long day that you’d both spent in the sims, you’d arrived at your hotel rooms that were side-by-side at the same time and the rest was history. You wouldn’t say you used each other, there was definitely some level of emotion involved (if the way you spent more time together than anyone else and the numerous times you’ve contemplated moving in together count) but it was definitely a more effective stress relief than collapsing in the gym.

His hips shifted upwards, causing a tingling sensation to spread through your lower half, a sensation that was increased the longer he continued doing that. You brought your arms around Yukis neck, bringing him in for a kiss as you adjusted your hips to match his speed.

He leaned his head back as he closed his eyes and you smiled, quickly leaning in to begin kissing his neck.

“Honey…” He sighed, as you continued moving your hips, his excitement very obvious even through the jeans he was wearing.

“Feels good right?” You murmured on his neck as you began sucking, trying your very best not to leave a mark. That may have been a lie. A deep mark started to form on his skin and you smiled as he continued sighing his pleasure.

“I may have left a mark.” He groaned, this time in mock annoyance, and a giddy smile overtook your lips this time as he brought his head down to look at you, his own smile making your glow brighter.

“It’s hard to be mad at you.” He whispered against your lips and you responded with a quick kiss on his lips, continuing your eye contact, as you didn’t trust yourself to respond appropriately with words.

He gently bucked his hips in response to your kiss and you gasped as a jolt of pleasure ran up your spine. He smirked against your lips and he leaned forward to grab the back of your thighs.

A loud banging on your door startled you both out of your daze, a yelp leaving your lips as Yuki nearly dropped you. You both, almost comically, turned to face the door as the banging continued and the person behind it started to shout.

“Hello? We’re here to film that room tour?” Shit, you’d totally forgotten about that. The team had organized for a film crew to come over and do a nice tour of the hotel room you were staying in. Wasn’t that tomorrow? You cleared your throat before yelling out.

“Yep just give me a minute! I’m finishing a round of Mario Kart!” You quickly hurried to jump off Yuki and started running around the room, turning on your switch and throwing a controller at Yuki.

“Just go with it!” You pleaded and he nodded, a firm nod with a small smile on his lips. God his lips are gorgeous aren’t they? Fuck, not right now!

You sprinted to the bathroom and tried to smooth your hair to look normal and splashed your face with water, hoping it would cool you down.

You ran back to the main area of the room, threw on your Alpha Tauri shirt and turned around to find Yuki booting up Mario Kart on your room's TV.

You sighed, physically feeling your shoulders and tension deflate, before leaning in for one last kiss.

“You look beautiful.” He said as you pulled away and you slapped his shoulder, duly noting the blanket he had thrown over his lap as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’m supposed to be turned off right now, not turned on.” You said bashfully and he grinned before you turned back the door and opened it.

You came face to face with a man holding a camera and a man holding a microphone. Your eyes widened.

“Hi there! Should we get straight to it?” The man holding the mic asked and you nodded before turning to the camera and introducing yourself.

“This is the uhh standard room. I’m pretty sure all staff got it, it’s pretty good.” You said as you opened the door.

Yuki waved at the camera from his spot sitting at the edge of your bed and, to their credit, both the other men tried to look unsurprised.

“We were playing Mario kart together, getting out all the aggression from the track.” You explained, over-gesturing with your hands. They both nodded and ‘ahh-ed’.

“So anyways, here’s the bathroom.” You led them into the bathroom, did a little tour, showing them around the room. You opened a few drawers, forgetting about the one that held Yuki’s toiletries bag and quickly slamming it shut. You met their curious looks with a quick “Can’t reveal my hair-care secrets!” And tried to carry on.

You took them through the small kitchenette, showing them the teabags you brought from home and showing them the high quality green tea bags Yuki bought you as a gift. You asked if they wanted a tea and the cameraman took you up on the offer, so eventually you were brewing four teas, one for every person in your room.

Eventually you all moved to the dining table beside your bed, the cameraman setting up his camera to face your bed with you in front of it before you were asked some relatively normal, non-invasive questions which you really appreciated. Yuki was also asked some questions, mostly about how good he is at Mario kart.

You ended up giving them a small tour of the bed, not much to see there. You took them through your switch, let them play a game on it, before eventually showing them the view from the hotel room, letting them onto the balcony.

As they surveyed the view, Yuki came up behind you, quickly muttering into your ear a complaint that they were taking too long. You rested your head back on his shoulder and murmured that they would be gone soon.

And they were, with a final sweep of the room and a panned shot of you sitting at the table watching Yuki play Mario Kart, they were out, thanking you for the tea and for being such a good host.

The second you had closed and locked the door, Yuki was at your back, missing your neck and grabbing at your waist to lead to your bed. You smiled and let yourself be walked backwards before he turned you around and kissed your lips.

“Been holding back for an hour lovely.” He whispered as he subtly pushed you backwards onto the bed, you landing with an ‘umph’ which he released a giggle at.

“Mhhmm I’m sorry about that.” You responded to his previous statement. “I thought it was another day.”

“It’s ok.” He said as crawled over you, beginning to mouth at your ear. “Just means I get less time to fuck you, yeah?” You groaned in response and he laughed at you.

“If people knew how much of a smooth talker you were…” You trailed off as he continued down from your ear to your neck to your collarbones, leaving small bites as he went.

“Lucky they don’t, means I get to use this.” He said smugly before leaning over to the bedside table and retrieving a condom. You rolled your eyes, a fond smile playing on your lips, as he flashed the condom at you. He reached back to place the condom back on the table and moved back to you.

Wait. Hold on.

Yuki continued to kiss down, leaving small nibbles on your collarbones as your eyes shot open.

Oh fuck.

You released a loud gasp and Yuki pulled back and looked up, worried.

“I’m sorry! Are you ok…?” He trailed off at your flabbergasted expression as you both sat up.

“Yuki.” You began, grabbing his shoulders.

“Did you reach in the drawer to grab that or not?” You asked, drawing him close to you. His face immediately paled as he took in the implications of what you said. He scrambled to move closer to the edge of the mattress, turning to look at the side table.

“I swear I reached in, didn’t I?” He said, turning to you but you could only look on in horror.

“There’s no way right?” He started. “We didn’t just film a room tour with a condom on the side table?”

You groaned, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes as you learnt back into the bed, hoping the mattress would swallow you whole. Yuki let out an incredulous laugh, barely registering the hand you slapped his thigh with.

“What do we do?” You eventually asked, staring at the roof.

“I have no clue.” He said as you rolled to face him. His face softened as he reached out a hand to put on the side of your face.

“We might have to tell people.” You groaned in despair, closing your eyes. The last thing you wanted was for people to think the only female driver was fucking the other drivers. You were only fucking one.

You also didn’t want to have to deal with HR and the complications that would pose, you’d mentioned Franz Tost as a joke but damn. You really don’t want to have to deal with all the questions about your loyalty to the company and if you were just there because of Yuki.

Saying that, you were also reminded that you’d have to face the media and twitter if you confirmed it. Cheers to more speculations as to whether you were the gridwhore or the gridslut. Somehow the same thing with different names.

To be fair, you'd have to face the media anyway in this scenario. You couldn’t just chase them down and ask them to do the story again ‘just because’ and you were certain some eagle-eyed fan would definitely notice the package in the original video anyway. Yuki interrupted your thoughts by speaking.

“You know I’d fistfight someone for you?” You opened your eyes to face his genuine ones, the seriousness of his face causing you to smile.

“I know. I’d do the same for you.” The smile he had in return caused you to grab the hand he was holding your face in and turn your face to kiss it.

“I could call Pierre, he’d probably know what to do.” You immediately scoffed, closing your eyes and laughing into Yuki’s hand as you grasped it.

“I’m serious! He might have some sort of way for it to be passed off as something else!”

“Darling, I’m not sure about that.” You were careful to make your voice not sound condescending.

“You never know!” He said, pulling away (which you did definitely not whine at) and grabbing his phone from the table, quickly dialling Pierre’s number.

You watched as Yuki paced, giving you a thumbs up when the call went through. The loud blasting club music through the phone did clue you in to that though.

“Hi Pierre!” He started and you watched as he moved from foot-to-foot.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He said and then continued. “Sorry to take you away from your party but I have a question.”

A pause.

“Ah ok. If you needed to pass off a condom wrapper as something else, what would you choose?” Yuki said, giving you another thumbs up.

The raucous laughter Pierre released was heard through the phone (he really ought to turn the volume down) and it made you start to giggle, especially as Yuki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I’m serious!” He said, starting to pace again.

“Why? We accidentally had one out on the side table when a room tour was taking place.” He explained as he finally sat down after you patted the space in front of you on the bed.

“What? Who? You know who!” He said and you tilted your head in confusion. He sighed before muttering into the phone.

“Yes, the person I had a crush on the whole last year. Go away.” You tilted your head back as a wave of elation washed over you, it was always nice to know the people you want, want you too. Even if you’d been dating, it’s still nice to know.

Pierre’s reaction to this could also be heard through the phone, a loud “WHAT?” that had Yuki sighing before hanging up. He took a second before looking at you.

“Useless.” He simply said and it was enough to send you into a minutes long laughing fit. He giggled along with you, though he admittedly found it a lot less funny.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” You asked and he nodded.

“Seems like we just have to let things run their course.” You nodded in agreement, already having mentally prepared yourself.

“However…” You looked up at the tone of his voice.

“We could… Y’know… use the condom?” He said and you started to giggle again before nodding.

“Seems the only acceptable course.” You replied and he smiled before climbing back onto the bed.

—-

Yippee, does this mean I can make a masterlist?

#Yuki tsunoda x reader #f1 x reader #Yuki tsunoda x you #Yuki x reader #driver!reader #female driver #formula one x reader #I cant not tag like ao3 #f1 #smau #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #Yuki tsunoda fanfic #Yuki tsunoda one shot #wrote in a haze lmao #bit of a deviation from normal

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campbyler · 8 months

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hey guys it’s me again…i was wondering if we could see a (non-spoilery!) glimpse of your planning doc? i’d love to see how you guys are keeping the story going smoothly through the three of you and also just. what it looks like. if that’s ok.

ok love uuuu bye running into the sunset

since we got a couple of asks about this i'm just going to answer them together :-) it's been a hot second since we've talked about our writing process and since we have a few chapters now and are no longer at risk for spoiling Everything in one fell swoop, attached are chapters 1-5 from our official outline document! this is the one we use to actually navigate and reference for the fic as we write, but we've had two or three versions before this where we did the majority of the actual planning/going back on forth on scene ideas. those got really difficult to navigate after a while, so we cut out a lot of the commentary (we are hilarious. #trust) and fluff and made this one pretty bare-bones, but we have the entire fic planned out this way and have had it planned out before any of it was ever written! it definitely helps with continuity, because other than some minor changes to the dates and stuff (we realized at one point that like three chapters all occurred within the span of one week lol) and some retconning to some vestigial scenes from our original fic concept - which was very different in some aspects when we first thought of it back in january - we've stayed pretty consistent to this outline while writing. we also have a million other documents as well - playlist organization, an entire document we used to plan out titles lol, a google slides presentation breaking down the timeline, etc etc. thea and andi are much better outliners than i am because i rarely do it for my own fics but this process might have converted me fr. to some extent. anyways! enjoy snooping! or don't. lol. hope you like my commentary xoxo

(side note: chapter 5 probably had the most retconning of the chapters so far - the closet scene was one of the first ones we thought of for the fic and therefore heavily relied on how we originally imagined their dynamic to play out, which was really really different than how we ended up writing them! needless to say i definitely struggled with it lol. but it worked out fine. i think.)

#hopefully this satiates some curiosity #if anyone had it #this outline doc is not the most interesting i apologize #a lot of commentary was taken out so that it would be more consise and so we could scroll through it without getting lost #but our other one is too much of a mess to share. and also the commentary comes w spoilers #so. here #enjoy #asks #writing process #is that a tag we have. ik we have one #whatever i'll check later

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quietblueriver · 10 months

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Please find below 4k of quickly written and mostly unedited pride fluff inspired by the revival news.

Happy Pride, and happy Warrior Nun, y'all. <3 <3

Ava’s first pride was with her mother. She remembers being outside, her mom’s laugh loud and generous, her joyous friends lifting Ava on their shoulders and spinning her around to take it all in, everything bathed in color. There was so much to see and hear, and she felt small but not scared surrounded by so many people, delighted when someone dancing in the parade wrapped a feather boa around her neck gently and with a wink. Her mom had taken her home before the parade was over, Ava fighting sleep and swaying against her side in the afternoon sun.

She’d felt no shame as she got older and realized that she found a wide spectrum of people and genders to be attractive. She hadn’t been raised to believe in God and her life at St. Michael’s definitely didn’t change her mind. She’d figured out real fucking quick that the nuns at St. Michael’s were full of shit. There was absolutely no way Sister Frances, fountain of hate, knew what she was talking about when it came to literally anything beyond being a fucking bitch. She sure as shit didn’t know anything about love. Ava was more likely to listen to an avocado’s directions about how to live her best life. Anyway. The nuns spouted bullshit but she knew better. She had been taught better. Like her mom’s laugh and the soft fur of her favorite tabby under her fingers, Ava clung to the memory of her mother surrounded by men and women and people dressed in bright colors and dancing, together and happy and beautifully themselves.

“Bea?”

She’s standing in front of her dresser, staring into the open drawer where she keeps her t-shirts, all neatly folded and organized vertically so that she can see each one. It’s exactly where she was when Ava left her two minutes ago, pretending she wanted a glass of water to give Bea a minute that she would deny she needed if Ava actually asked.

“Hmm?” Her eyes remain focused on the drawer, one hand fiddling absently with the thin gold chain around her neck, taking up residence where her cross used to be. She’s in one of her favorite sports bras, tight enough to have a compressive effect, and black boxer briefs, her hair still wet from the shower and in a loose braid to keep it out of her way. It’s something precious for Ava to see her this disarmed, this at home, something she thought about when she was trapped and waiting, waiting, waiting until she could come back to this world, to a real life, to Bea, in whatever capacity she would have her. The fact that Bea wants her like this, in all the ways Ava had ever hoped and in the home they’re building together, is sometimes enough to leave her breathless.

She steps into the room but leaves several feet of space between them. It’s a dance, figuring out how to love Bea best, and Ava still sometimes misses a step. As always, her instinct is to wrap herself around Bea like a koala, but she knows that Bea has to be the one to make the move right now. She would welcome Ava; she always does, but it’s different when she thinks Ava wants something. Because she was raised by shitheads, her default, when Ava wraps her up in moments like this, is to feel it like a threat: Make the right choice because this is what you have, yes, but this is also what you can lose. She had nearly had a panic attack even admitting this to Ava, stilted and red-faced and ashamed one night after a therapy session. “It’s not about you, I swear. I know you love me. I’m just not used to love like yours.” There is no part of Ava that doesn’t want to throw down with Bea’s parents.

She focuses, instead, on what she can do. It is Ava’s privilege to learn how to love Bea in the ways that let her feel it most, and right now that means standing close but not too close, a physical signal that she’s there if Bea wants her but that she has no expectations.

“You sure you want to go? It’s really, really okay if you don’t. We could just go to Rosa’s later, if something smaller would be better. Or we can stay home! No pressure, is what I mean.”

Beatrice looks at her then, eyes soft and with a small but genuine smile. The halo gives a little hum with Ava’s exhale. They’re in agreement about Bea, as always: beautiful.

“I want to go.” She turns her body to face Ava, one hand still on her chain. “I want to go with you.” Ava grins big, lets every fucking bit of affection show on her face, in her body, in the halo’s light, kept dim enough not to be outrageous in the space of their bedroom but still obvious, and Bea’s own smile grows just a little, her cheeks coloring. It’s strange in the very best way to see her be bashful. She looks down at her body and adopts the contemplative face that Ava fell in love with, all strong, sharp, serious lines and pursed lips. “I just don’t know what to wear. Is that,” she turns back to the drawer and shakes her head, “Is that silly? I feel…I feel a bit silly.”

Ava steps closer then, an offer of help, and stops just behind Beatrice at the dresser. The way she immediately leans back into Ava’s space, drops the chain to pull one of Ava’s arms around her almost absently, lets Ava know she made the right decision. Ava presses onto her toes and hooks her chin over Bea’s shoulder so that she can look into the drawer. Not that she doesn’t already know exactly what’s in there—she wears Bea’s clothes as often as her own.

“It’s not silly at all. Do you want…how, um, how on theme do you want to be?” There is nothing in Bea’s drawer that Ava would describe as loud or showy—she tends toward muted colors and conservative cuts even now that her vows are barely visible in the rearview. Still, there are options.

“I don’t think I have anything particularly appropriate? I suppose…” she reaches for a lavender t-shirt, the same one Ava had been eyeing for her, thick cotton with a front pocket and a slightly faded neckline. Ava wraps her other arm around Bea’s waist and squeezes, presses a kiss to her cheek before dropping back down. “That’s perfect, baby.”

“Really?” It’s tentative in a way that Bea rarely is, and Ava’s heart aches.

“Yes, absolutely.” She thumbs at the waistband of Bea’s underwear and bites her lip before adding, “I mean, you’re rocking this look but I figured you didn’t want to wear it out.” She feels Bea’s gentle laughter. Mission accomplished.

“No, I’m not quite there yet. Maybe next year.” She’s feeling good enough to banter, even if only a little, which loosens something in Ava’s chest. A deep breath and exhale and then she feels more than sees the shift in Bea’s demeanor, her shoulders squaring up and feet spreading evenly. There is no leather tunic, no bo, no stash of knives (well, there’s always at least one, in a boot or a waistband or a subtle sheath under her shirt and across her back but like, of course). This is a different kind of armor—the control in her body, the appearance of confidence and competence. There’s more than a little fake it til you make it happening right now, but that’s fucking great, and nobody but Ava is going to know anyway. All they’re going to see is a very hot, very self-assured human, and Ava’s going to enjoy watching Bea get flustered by the women who will absolutely be looking in a totally unsubtle way.

She presses a last kiss to Bea’s shoulder blade and then pulls away, stepping over to their closet and pulling out a pair of black jeans that are a go-to for Bea, comfortable and neat and tapered but not too tight. She lays them carefully on the bed and then steps back toward the door as Bea slips into the clothes.

She looks incredibly handsome, as always, and Ava tells her so, whispering into her ear and then kissing her soundly. Impressively, she only lets her hands wander a teeny tiny amount. Bea looks down at herself and then says, “It’s not very colorful.”

Ava bounces on her toes and claps her hands once, brings them to together to a point under her chin. “Well! I have some ideas, if you want to add a little color.” She pulls Bea into the living room and presses gently on her shoulders, sitting her on the sofa and then walking to pull a tote from one of the hooks by the door. She’d been out this morning to get them coffee and also grabbed some supplies.

“Okay, so.” She rummages through and sits her bounty one by one on the coffee table. “We have face paint, nail polish, markers, body glitter. Oh! And!” She drops the bag and bounds into their bedroom, returning with a small box that she’d nearly forgotten about. “I got you these. Pinkwashing is bullshit but like all of the proceeds go to a shelter for queer youth and also it’s Pride and these are great and you’ll look amazing in them.” She hands Bea the box and then adds hastily, “If you want to wear them! No pressure. I will obviously also look amazing in them.”

She doesn’t say the rest—that she knew Bea wouldn’t have the same kind of options as Ava, whose closet is as full of color and energy as she is. Today, she landed on high rise denim shorts and a blue cropped tank with a short-sleeve button-down, pink and purple gradient, knotted overtop. There is a streak of pink at the front of her hair, and she’d traded shoes with Rosa, who lives two doors down, for the weekend, so she’s got one pink high top and one purple. She’s a walking bi flag and she feels great about it.

Beatrice is smiling down at the box, and she pulls out the rainbow sunglasses with a grin, situating them on her face and yes, she looks very, very good and also relaxed, which is the point. Ava has no real option but to kiss her, sliding into her lap and pushing the glasses to rest in her hair.

“You’re so hot.”

She blushes, as always, and rolls her eyes a little, but she doesn’t protest, is learning through therapy and a lot of positive reinforcement from Ava to let the compliments stand even if she doesn’t quite believe them. “I love you, too.” Ava grins and kisses her nose, doesn’t move from her lap but angles her torso slightly back toward the table.

“Now. Want me to do a lesbian pride flag on your cheek? Or your arm? Or some glitter? It rolls on.” She eyes the clock. They’re going to find a spot near the end of the route, closer to their apartment, so there’s not a rush. “We still have time for nail polish, even, if you want.”

Bea situates her hands on Ava’s hips, which is excellent, and looks at the pile on the table. “Maybe a flag on my cheek?” Ava nods decisively and reaches to pick up the face paint markers. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulls the top from the orange and moves to get the best angle.

Beatrice grew up in London, so she’d seen Pride, but only from a distance. “It was the first time I heard my father use a slur,” she told Ava the afternoon that they’d seen the pride flag go up in their favorite coffee shop, head in her lap on their sofa, Ava’s fingers carding through her hair. “It was the summer after Year Two, I think. We hadn’t started summering at the house in France yet.” Ava had not, for once, teased her for using the word summer as a verb. “We were out for…something. I don’t remember, but there were people walking to the parade and we could hear the music. They looked so happy, and I couldn’t stop watching them, even though I knew I shouldn’t let my father see me. When he noticed me staring, he grabbed my arm so hard it bruised.” Ava’s fingers stopped only briefly, reaching down to rub Beatrice’s bicep, soothing a phantom pain. Beatrice took her hand and kissed her palm, soft, before putting it back in her hair. Taking the request for what it was, Ava resumed her previous motion.

“He said…he said terrible things for the rest of the walk back to the car, loud enough that I knew some of the people must have heard. I started crying, and it made him mad at me. He never…I didn’t cry often, as a child. I don’t think he knew what to do with me most of the time, but he certainly didn’t know what to do with tears. It took me a long time to stop. I didn’t know exactly why, then, but I already felt wrong.”

Ava held her tongue, scratched at Bea’s scalp in a way that sometimes made her arch her back in a distinctly cat-like movement, graceful and pleased. Beatrice hummed and after a few moments, she titled her head back and reached up to skim her fingers along Ava’s jaw.

“I’d like to go, I think. To Pride. I’d like to go with you.” Bea’s skin was warm under her lips as Ava moved from her forehead to her nose to her chin. “I’d love that, baby.”

-- They’re able to walk, which is nice because it’s beautiful out today and because it gives Bea a way to get rid of some nervous energy. She’d already been on a run that morning, but she’s always a little on edge, Ava’s sister warrior, and today is going to be amazing, Ava knows it, but it’s also going to be a lot.

Fifteen minutes into the walk, Beatrice squeezes Ava’s hand so hard she thinks maybe she’s missed some kind of danger or protestor or something. When she follows Bea’s gaze, though, she squeezes back just as tightly. A loud, brightly colored group has emerged from the subway and congregated around someone looking at their phone. While the younger members of the group wear bright colors—bow ties and skirts and dyed hair scattered throughout—the adults wear matching t-shirts, white with gigantic rainbow hearts and bold black letters:

Proud of My Queer Child

Proud of My Queer Grandchild

A little distance from the malformed semi-circle, an elderly man entertains a very excited kiddo who can’t be more than 8, blue tutu flying as they spin and spin. The man, Papa written in pink, white, and blue paint on his arm, is in a variation of the same shirt: Proud of my Trans Grandchild.

As Ava and Beatrice approach the little one stops twirling and says, exuberant and maybe a little dizzy, based on their wobbly stance, “Happy Pride!”

“Happy Pride!” Ava’s response is enthusiastic but hasty. She’s ready to move quickly, give Bea a pass on interaction, but Bea stops and smiles at them, so handsome in the sunlight, a tiny dash of sunscreen that Ava hadn’t noticed as they left the house covering some of the freckles on the right side of her nose. “Happy Pride,” she says, voice gentle as it always is with children.

“I like your glasses! But you’ve got, uh,” little fingers swipe to indicate the spot where the sunscreen is. Bea says, polite as ever, “Thank you. I have been admiring your tutu.” She turns to Ava, who lifts her fingers and blends. Beatrice cups her jaw. “Thank you, love.” Familiar and easy and unashamed.

“Dad! Micah! You ready?” A conclusion has apparently been reached by those congregated around the phone. Micah waves and then skips toward the woman who called for them, grandfather shepherding closely.

The motorcycles are loud enough that Ava feels them in her chest, and she can’t help but laugh.

Bea is transfixed, eyes glued to the group of women in front of them—colorful flags and bandanas, leather and love and butch women revving engines. The woman closest to them, in a leather vest with a Dykes on Bikes patch prominently displayed, throws her head back and laughs at something her partner, clutching her from behind, whispers into her ear.

“Dyke,” Bea whispered into the dark of their bedroom at Cat’s Cradle a few weeks after Ava’s return. They were learning each other in new ways in a new world, this life and the next all in one, and Bea was trusting Ava with another piece of herself. She explained with a pained voice and silent tears the way her father had nearly spat at her when her parents found her kissing another girl, innocent and exploring, in the kitchen. “My mother slapped me and he called me a dyke. They sent me to Switzerland the next day.”

Now, Bea wraps an arm around Ava’s waist and pulls her closer with a confidence that makes Ava and the halo want to burst. Ava wraps her own arms around Bea, squeezing, and leans up to kiss her cheek. Strong fingers catch her chin as she turns away and then Bea’s lips are on hers, sure and solid and tasting of coconut sunscreen chapstick. Ava smiles into it and leans her forehead against Bea’s as they break apart, happy and so fucking proud.

The crowd roars when the bikes start moving, the parade on its way again, and Ava joins them, yelling and unlocking her hands from Bea’s waist so that she can wave. Beatrice is quiet, but she’s smiling, really smiling, and she startles a laugh when a dyke revs at an impressively loud and coordinated wolf-whistle from a nearby section of the crowd.

They’ve been here for almost two hours—sound systems blasting Kylie and Beyonce and Janelle Monae, queer people dancing in leather and coordinated outfits and tiny, tiny swimsuits. More than one marcher has winked at one or the other of them, Ava delighted and Bea, as predicted, flustered and precious.

There are corporate-sponsored floats fucking everywhere and it’s very, very white, and Ava knows that Beatrice, who is as thoughtful in her queerness as she is in everything, will want to talk about it later. (She bravely asked Rosa and Cleo, her partner, older London natives who have been active in the queer scene since before she and Bea were born, about how to get more involved in community. And a growing stack of queer reading material—poetry and fiction and theory and memoir— sits in a neat stack on her bedside table and on two designated shelves in their living room. Ava is partial to fiction and the queer internet, but she’s happy to listen to anything Bea wants to read her, steady heartbeat in one ear and measured voice in the other.) For the moment, though, she watches and watches and watches as it all passes by.

At one point, a drag troupe dressed in habits with incredible makeup traipses by as the Sister Act soundtrack plays. Ava’s nervous for a minute, but Bea only bites her lip, expression amused rather than offended. One of the queens opens a fan with a flourish, and it’s covered in a shockingly detailed copy of The Last Supper, the disciples all in drag. A snort, ungraceful and unguarded, and then Bea is laughing so hard she’s shaking. Ava can’t look away.

By the time they enter hour three, they’re both flagging a little, and Ava wants to go home for a bit and nap because she absolutely wants to take Bea dancing tonight, so she tugs at Bea’s bicep and says loudly enough to be heard over the music (an Elton John remix?), “I’m happy to stay as long as you want, but I’m also happy to go home. I will need a nap before we go out tonight.” She does not phrase it as a question and she can’t see Bea’s eyes but she knows that they’re rolling fondly as Bea’s lips purse in amusement. “Oh, are you going out tonight?”

Ava pouts shamelessly because she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. “We are going to a drag show and then dancing.” It’s an easier ask than Pride. They’ve done it before, even within the last month. The clubs are dark and anonymous and Bea genuinely loves dancing, and dancing with Ava especially.

Ava notices the banner of the next group before Bea can respond and nudges her quickly. “Bea. Look.” She does, immediate and reflexive, and then she keeps looking.

Christians at Pride

The groups is big, and there are colorful banners everywhere, some professionally printed and some very obviously handmade:

You are Made in God’s Image

You are loved.

Oh Happy Gay!

Thank God for Queer People

There are denominational shirts, a solid Catholic coalition packed into the middle, and at the end, a group of people whose shirts say simply: I’m Sorry. Ava has kept a close eye on Bea because, y’know, trauma, but it’s not until the end, until the I’m Sorry, that she reacts noticeably, sucking in a breath and curling one of her hands into a fist. Ava steps behind her, places a hand at the small of her back in question, and Bea reaches back for her arms.

They stand like that, Ava wrapped around her very favorite person, and watch a few more floats pass by, bass thumping up through their feet and confetti falling over them. Across the street, someone lifts a small child in a rainbow bucket hat onto their shoulders, and they sit waving and clapping happily at the queer cyclist club. The couple who have been camped next to them—Matt and Andy, about their age and into gardening and incredibly fucking cute in their tiny matching rainbow shorts and mesh tops—dips, giving them quick hugs. As they turn to leave, Andy says to Beatrice, teasing and without waiting for an answer, “See you tonight, yeah?” Ava, having resumed her previous position already, feels Bea’s laughter in her own chest.

Eventually, Beatrice turns into her and says, acting put upon but pressing even closer to Ava to be sure she knows it’s only an act, “Let’s go home and nap before we go out.”

Ava grins, victorious.

Look, Ava loves being queer. She doesn’t believe in blessings but she sure as shit believes it’s a gift to be bisexual, and she feels that deeply as she watches Bea at the bar in her slightly tighter black jeans and a fitted white tee. Her hair is down, over one shoulder, and she’s leaned forward to catch the bartender’s attention and Ava can’t believe she gets to go home with her.

She’s coming back from the bathroom, but she stops as someone slides into Bea’s space, beautifully tattooed arm reaching over to touch Bea’s elbow like it’s nothing. They’re gorgeous, newly touched-up undercut and jeans that do great things for their ass and Ava smiles as they shoot their shot.

The more they do it, the more she loves bringing Bea into queer spaces like this, because it’s where she gets the attention she quite frankly deserves and because it’s very fun to watch her navigate these interactions. Only the very smallest part of Ava wants to halo-blast this human across the room and even that is only on principle—she has absolutely nothing to worry about. More than anything, she’s happy that her partner gets some outside reinforcement for what Ava tells her all the fucking time: she’s hot.

Bea backs away immediately, says something that Ava is sure is polite but absolutely clear, and then she’s alone again. Ava makes her way over, sliding and arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek and Beatrice smiles at her and hands her a shot glass.

“Lemon drop?”

The club is full of people celebrating, evidence of the parade everywhere: sunburns and smeared paint and so much glitter. Her own arms are covered in it now, but she doesn’t mind. Ava always loves going dancing with Bea but she loves it especially tonight. They’re warm and happy and just a little bit drunk, swaying comfortably in the press of the revelry.

The music changes, an eruption as the Beyonce remix sounds through the speakers, and Bea shifts somehow closer to her, hands confidently blazing a path to the exposed skin of Ava’s waist. Ava lets her own hands roam, landing on Bea’s shoulder blades, fingers digging in as Bea breathes out against her ear, “Come home with me?”

Ava kisses her, a little filthy, and Beatrice pulls her closer. She draws back with a bite to Bea’s bottom lip and kisses a path up her jaw, lets her tongue graze skin as she answers Bea’s question the way she always does, the way she always will: “Yes.” They press out of the crowd, and Beatrice apologizes as she bumps into a crew coming into the club. “No worries, baby!” The queen is beautiful, makeup fucking impeccable, and she blows a kiss as she heads toward the bar. “Happy Pride!”

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #warrior nun fic

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infinity-or-oblivion · 3 months

Text

so my loa batkids au has gained a little traction and i’ve hit a bit of a wall when it comes to writing new stuff so here’s an infodump to hopefully kill my writers block xoxoxo

first of all, jason. my forever number one blorbo. there’s a bit of a role reversal here because compared to all the rest of them, jason arguably had it the easiest. like we’re not going to compare traumas but an argument could be made. i honestly don’t remember if i mentioned it at all in the actual series yet, but the story i have for jason is that his childhood with willis and catherine was about the same as canon/commonly accepted fanon, meaning he was homeless around nine years old. however, instead of living on the streets for years, it was only a few months tops before meeting bruce.

and bruce! this is very fun to me, but basically i was thinking that if he didn’t raise dick, then why couldn’t this version of bruce be younger? so bruce becomes batman in his early twenties, which is also around the time that he visits the league of assassins for training and damian is conceived. (for a little more about that, here) and bruce is roughly 25 when he finds a tiny 9-10 year old jason trying to steal his tires. just imagine that it’s so fucking adorable and heartbreaking ANYWAYS bruce, despite being overall a disaster, doesn’t let a malnourished 10 year old out to fight crime right away, so there’s a couple years between when jason first meets bruce and when he becomes a child soldier yayyyy!!!! but legit, it makes a lot of difference to jason, because you know how canon!jason has some self-esteem issues (for lack of a better term) around bruce not really loving him/seeing him as a son because bruce started training him as robin (and as dick’s replacement) immediately after adopting him- you know that whole thing? yeah well here, despite jason actually offering to help bruce as a vigilante, this bruce is like hell nah you’re literally ten years old and the size of a six year old no way, and those few years in between really stick in jason’s mind as solid proof that bruce really does love him, not for what use he can provide, but simply as a son. also being the only child definitely helps with that

(that little detail of jason and bruce’s relationship is slightly inspired by minimum height requirement, which is absolute batfam gold btw)

okay so. slight pet peeve of mine is in aus where dick isn’t the first robin, the legacy is still called robin for whatever reason (lookin at you reverse robins aus) because!!!!! how dare you erase mary and john grayson’s importance!!!!! (look there’s more nuance to it than that i know but. to put it simply it feels like flying graysons erasure to me) so in this au, jason can’t possibly be called robin. the real robin has been missing for roughly seven years at this point

and listen. i tried to be creative and come up with something cool and original for jason’s vigilante name i really did, but apparently i used all of my naming talent on nighthawk (fucking love that name for dick it’s so fantastic) so we just have bluejay. womp womp

also! on my list of things to expand on: main timeline stephanie!!! i’ve had an absolute blast making myself cry while writing every heart sings a song, incomplete and those who wish to sing always find a song, but spoiler steph will always be my babygirl. and duke!!!! i have not written barely anything for duke in this universe but believe me i have some Thoughts. perhaps even Ideas. basically a lot of steph&duke and steph&babs and steph&duke&babs because i love my little underrated trio

also just more babs in general, because like. i’ve had so many tiny little snippets of cass and babs and their sweet little relationship just sitting in my notes for literal years now that i really just need to organize and expand into their own fic. and yet. i have not done that. but rest assured cass&babs are very very important to me

such is the curse of female fanfic writers: always destined to fixate more on the male poor little meow meows than the female bad bitches. seriously what the fuck is up with that guys i don’t get it why does this happen

#so yeah. infodump on my silly little au #and my silly i mean i make myself cry every time i write #league of assassins #batman #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #duke thomas #barbara gordon #who else did i mention #don’t worry i have plenty of things to say about tim and damian and dick #yeah #my writing #i don’t remember if i have a writing tag lmao #it’s not like i use tumblr regularly anymore

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roseadleyn · 11 months

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if u truly like diabolik lovers (according to ur fandom list anyways) then any diabolik lovers ocs that you like and/or love?? and do you have any dl ocs of your own?

OH MY GOD. i have another ask like this. should probably stop procrastinating and answer all 87 of my asks but procrastination is life 😍‼️

btw this list is not in order at all‼️i love you all the same <333

1. helen harrison, aurora, and lae'la by @/nutaella-kookie

laila isn't around on tumblr anymore (deactivated) but i actively stalk all blogs that contain helen posts. she's my favorite oc ever created and i genuinely love and fantasize about her all the timeeee

aurora is the BEST person in the demon world alongside devyn and gilbert. shut up. u don't get to argue because omg i love this woman

and lae'la... she's so objectively wrong but oh my heavens she looks good while she's at it. girlboss, love her.

2. keiichirou seong by @gingerall

okay but i am so in love with this man u do not understand!!! he's written well, he's drawn well, and he's so pretty 😭💞 yes he's a red flag but red is my favorite color so what are you going to do about it huh 🙄🙄

(@gingerall's art SLAYS btw. go check it out. i dare you. rn. )

3. devyn kang by @secretarykang

devyn is so beautiful???? so girlboss???? like, genuinely, this is the rare female oc who's a compelling female character who doesn't need to beat everyone up to be empowering and i just. hhhh ma'am i love u pleaseee

4. maya by @summercreolefanfictioner

BABIE!!! mentally traumatized, but babie!!! i found maya a while back and read her ENTIRE masterlist in one setting. istg i love her, she's so complex (in a good way!!) and deserves the world for putting up with kanato like she does

5. gilbert by @summercreolefanfictioner

SIR??? MY HAND IN MARRIAGE IS HERE??? literally simp over him as a hobby he's too well written and way too handsome for me to not do that okay??? and also he didn't need to die miss summer he deserves a happy ending with devyn!!!

6. cyra by @mariicake

is she single??? because i am (/j)

okay but like come on. this woman is so. wjsjd she makes me feel things she's so pretty and she slays literally every interaction with those mentally ill vampires and whatever else cooks in the dl abyss

7. asa, akemi and amaya by @crookedherringcolorclodthe2nd

(i'm unable to tag your original blog, my apologies!!)

my go to ocs if i need to laugh??? these girls. i absolutely adore their dynamic and the way they're written, a definite 10/10 for character building

8. malorie by @whitechocolatemochaasblog

MALORIE IS THE PRETTIEST NAME EVER OMG. also i just love how cute she is???? she's so baby, i love her with my whole entire heart and soul

9. makoto by @kirua9

poor girl </3 she just wants some love 😭 come here makoto i can treat u better than he ever could‼️

she's so hurt that it makes my heart ache

as for whether i have my own dl ocs... i have my own ocs, but not dl ones!! i'm considering putting my ocs in dl but i'll probably do it after i've organized this blog a little bit, you know???

currently, the ocs that are out are xander, raymond, roselyn, and caelia, and i'm working on emma (that's her old moodboard) rn <333 seven of my ocs have moodboards but i hated the mbs so i obviously had to remake them all; currently four have been remade, fifth is abt to be done‼️

lots of my mutuals have ocs but none of them are dl, so they weren't mentioned here. they slay nonetheless!!!

...and i've rambled way, way too much again, bye bye 😍

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aita-blorbos · 7 months

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AITA for helping try and destroy the world (and also lying about it)

(I realize this is absolutely gonna put me on blast in some corners of the multiverse, but I don't think it matters anymore. Anyone who'd know who I am probably hates me already, which is fair.)

OK, so, there's this guy (adult M), we're gonna call him R. I (adult F) met R several years ago, when he got me out of a difficult situation, saving my life in the process. I didn't have anywhere to go and wanted to return the favor, so I decided to travel with him. He was out looking for his fiancee, "E" (adult F), because…I'm still not entirely sure how the whole thing went down, but his dad didn't approve of her, and he was a pretty big deal magically, so he...cursed her, or something like that? And R thought he could find where his dad sent E if he just kept looking for long enough.

Except, that didn't work out. Time passed, R just kept getting sadder and sadder, and I'm not the comforting type, I'm no good at stuff like that, I did my best to help him however I could but he needed E, not me.

There's this super-magical book of prophecies that generations of his family had been guarding, because it contained information on how all worlds were gonna inevitably be destroyed and could kinda kick-start that whole process. I think he thought he might be able to find her location written in there? But either way, he left one day, grabbed the book, and went completely AWOL, deciding that the worlds had no meaning and he was gonna fulfill the world-ending prophecy. I know that sounds bad, but I swear, it was the book that drove him insane, he never would've done anything like that normally! His whole personality changed! I could barely even recognize him! It wasn't his fault OK?!

…Anyway.

R was a magical powerhouse, especially with the book, but I'm more of a specialist. So, we recruited a few people the book mentioned into a small organization to help us. The elevator pitch was that R was gonna destroy the worlds and create better ones in their place, and these guys bought it. They got really excited and were absolutely willing to defend us and help kick the prophecy in gear (because apparently, multiversal annihilation has some weirdly specific prerequisites). R oversaw them, and I did admin work and some HR + recruitment on the side.

Thing is, I knew better the whole time, but I just sort of…let it all happen. I'm not gonna say I didn't do some other pretty nasty stuff, because I did, that's not in question here. But I let these people sincerely believe, with all the enthusiasm in the worlds, that this was for some kind of greater good and that they weren't just leading themselves to their own deaths. I think they even started to think of us all as friends, which I definitely wasn't planning on, but I kept perpetuating this lie and doing my job without saying a word against it, even after I started getting attached.

…Long story short, E wound up still being alive, R got together with her and they stopped the end of the world with the power of true love. Great, I guess, but the circumstances led to them both ending up…somewhere else and I don't think they're ever coming back. I haven't really spoken to my coworkers since then because I don't know how to, and I keep wondering if I could've prevented this whole mess and if he'd still be here if I'd tried a little harder. Should I have made a better argument? Been a better friend to him while he was hurting so he wouldn't have gone for the book? Should I have told the others the truth? Or, his magic is way stronger than mine, but maybe I could've at least tried to overpower him? I don't know. I did try to talk some sense into him once, after we realized E was still alive, but he got really intense about it and I just…caved, because I made a promise to help him and I wasn't about to back out of it.

So, yeah. TL;DR my closest friend went insane and tried to destroy the world, got some innocent people mixed up in it under false pretenses, and I helped/didn't try to stop it, AITA

(And you'd better not go around blaming him for this, OK?)

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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bitchesgetriches · 7 months

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Hey Bitches! I got a promotion at work recently (woo!) and now that I'm making more I'm trying to shift my focus to paying down the credit card debt that I have. I've been reading the articles that you guys have on the topic, along with articles from elsewhere too. One of the outside ones mentioned the National Foundation for Credit Counseling, nfcc.org, which I hadn't heard of before.

I'd kind of like to work with someone to help create a plan, but I'm not sure I can afford an advisor yet and it looks like they'll work with you on rates. Is the NFCC a credible organization to start with or are you familiar with anyone who's worked with them before? Or would I still be better off trying to start on my own at first?

If you have talked about them before, I apologize if I missed it.

I love it when a bitchling is like "I did my homework, aunties!" We love that you've been doing your research and putting the time in to get your debt sorted. We're so proud!

Anyway, we LOVE the NFCC! They're an accredited non-profit with a VERY good reputation. They help a lot of people without gouging them on the pricing. If you feel you could use a professional's guidance, then there are definitely worse places to start.

You're asking the right questions, my dear. Sometimes we all need a pro in our corner to feel supported and motivated. It's ok to not want to go it alone.

For everyone working on their debt, here's our master list of advice articles we've written:

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about How to Pay off Debt

Did we just help you out? Tip us!

#debt #NFCC #paying off debt #how to pay off debt #National Foundation for Credit Counseling

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cosmic-cheeto · 2 years

Text

"Masks On"

this is almost definitely the longest thing I've written for a post here so far. It's 1856 words and proofread so there shouldn't be too many mistakes remaining.

summary: It's your first year going to the annual Halloween party at Hogwarts. When you were about to leave early, a mystery person stops you, and instead, you have the best night of your life. Only thing is, can you find them again in the morning?

reader is a female ravenclaw

"This year's party is going to be great! Don't miss it!" A Slytherin student said, shoving a folded piece of paper into your hand. You know what it must be for, but it's the first time you are invited. You unfold the paper and read it as you finish your walk to class.

"Masks On" is a party that rotates common rooms every year. An older student, usually Head boy/girl, soundproofs the common room while the younger students go straight to their dorms after the Halloween feast. The idea behind the masks is that no one has to know who you are so it's a judgment free place where you can just have fun.

You already have your costume picked but haven't told anyone, you want to be mysterious. The poster reminds you to make sure you find a Slytherin on the organization team to get your name on the list.

❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖

After you have done everything in preparation for the holiday, you had let it slip your mind until two Gryffindor students stood up on their table at breakfast and set off a firework that burst into giant letters, which they echo with yells, "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!"

"FRED! GEORGE! OFF THE TABLE!!" Professor Mcgonagall yelled after them as they ran out of the great hall.

The only thing harder than trying to get any work done the day of Halloween was trying to teach a class. For this reason, most teachers had simply given up and let students talk amongst themselves after little to no work was done. You took this time to get your remaining homework done, blocking out the whispers of excitement around you.

In the common room awaiting the feast, students with more elaborate costumes started to get ready while others hung out with the younger years in the common room. You were among the later group.

The feast was amazing as usual but you forced yourself to stop before you would get sleepy. When the plates and platters cleared of food, you went to change into your costume so you could head down to the party.

You obviously weren't the only person who didn't join the party at the feast’s end, so after putting on your ghost costume, you waited for a group to form in the common room before walking down with them.

"Are you excited?" a Dementor asks your group as you approach the entrance to the party. They were responded to with a cheer and various positive responses.

Finally in the Slytherin common room, you could definitely tell who must be either muggle-born or in muggle studies by their costumes. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you sit on a sofa near the drinks.

You start to regret coming, you knew stuff like this wasn’t really your scene anyway. But just as you are about to leave, a skeleton comes up to you.

"Hello, lovely! Why aren't you dancing?" They ask, leaning on the arm of the sofa. "I bet you’re better than at least half of these people." They say, nodding to the dance floor set up in the middle of the room.

"Are you... hitting on a ghost?" You say, grinning under your sheet.

"Not quite yet," There's a pause and you somehow know they winked under their mask. They hold out their hand and you take it.

"You know nobody saw that wink, right? It was pointless," You say as they pull you onto the dance floor.

"It would have been pointless if you didn’t pick up on it." You both fall silent, dancing together.

"A ghost and a skeleton, that's a love story I'd read a book about!" Someone comments, dancing nearby.

"The Spirit and the Remains..." the mystery skeleton considers.

"And hope the twist ending isn't that you were once my body." You say, trying to stall the romance theme the conversation was taking. After all, you don't even know who you’re talking to.

The skeleton thinks for a few seconds before shaking their head. "Not possible, I must be possessed by my spirit or I wouldn't have consciousness."

You want to be annoyed, but instead, you’re a bit impressed. "What Tethers our Soul," You say, naming a better title for the suggested story.

"Because my soul is still tethered to my body, yours to earth and ours together... that's very clever."

"More so when you leave it unexplained."

You look at each other, knowing you're both smiling, still swaying to the music surrounding you.

"You should be a writer, write me a love story." Skeleton says, picking up the energy as the song changes.

"I'll be sure to make it out to 'The skeleton that spoke to me once at a party'."

Skeleton moves closer to you, "I was hoping I'd be something more to you by then..." they say softly, "At least, 'The Skeleton boy who inspired this romance and saw the writer in my soul'." They say, voice becoming less seductive after the dramatic pause.

"Skeleton boy?" You say, intrigued to have started learning about this mystery man in front of you.

"... Who inspired this romance and saw the writer in your soul, yes."

"I wouldn't say you inspired a romance novel yet..." You say, looking into Skeleton's eyes.

"Of course not. We're still on the first chapter." He says, taking your hand and spinning you, though it wasn't appropriate for the current song.

You dance until the partygoers have started to clear out. When the room is considerably more empty than it had been when you first found each other, he took one of his gloves off and rolled up his sleeve to check the time. You stare at the ring on his middle finger.

"I really like your ring..." You say, much less smooth than you had been hours before, when you had more energy.

He smiles and takes it off, placing it in your hand. "Then take it with you, as a promise we'll meet again?" He offers. You accept and put it on your thumb, the only place it would fit on your hand.

"You like playing undead Cinderella, Skeleton boy?" You ask as you head out of the common room together.

"I'm not sure yet, you'll be my first Prince Charming." Before you part ways, he winks his light gray eye and you can almost feel him grin as you analyze the only revealed part of his face.

Your heart drops as you head back to your own common room, what if you can't find him tomorrow? What if he thinks you're ugly when you do find him again?

When you flop into bed, your final question before you sleep is why do you care? You don't even know his name!

❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖☾❖☆❖

You wake up late the next day. You fail to tame your messy hair and throw on a sweater and your uniform skirt. When you enter the common room, everyone looks at you and some grin.

"Rough night, y/n?" An older boy teases, looking you up and down.

"Bloody hell- get a life!" You say, leaving for the great hall, hoping you woke up early enough for a breakfast. No such luck. The tables are empty. But you do see someone nearby, a Hufflepuff girl.

"Oh, hey! Ravenclaw!" She calls you.

You walk toward the girl, confused since you don’t really know her.

"Did you just wake up?" She asks.

"Yeah, how can you tell?” You joke, “Was just hoping for some breakfast." You continue.

"Come with me, we'll get you something."

You follow the girl. As she taps around a painting, you think this must be the Hufflepuff common room.

Instead, she takes you through a hall and into a kitchen filled with house elves.

"Hello, could I bother you for breakfast? Just some..." She trails off, looking at you.

"Bacon and eggs, if you don't mind." You say.

A few house elves nod and get to work.

"If you don't want to eat alone, I could let you into the common room." The Hufflepuff girl offers.

"Sure, that'd be nice." You say, smiling at her.

A house elf presents you with a plate. You and the girl thank the elves before leaving.

"You have a nice ring." She points out on the way back down the hall.

"Yeah, a guy gave it to me last night. I have no idea who it was."

"Hm.. I don't know, but it looks familiar."

You sit down at a table and take in the other people in the room, mainly their eyes. What color were his eyes again…?

While you eat, a tall boy enters the room. Neat brown hair, beautiful light gray eyes and a stunning white smile as he looks at you. Wait, no, he's looking at the girl with you.

"Hey, Cedric!" She smiles. You feel bad for staring and try to look anywhere else. You're looking for someone you were flirting with just last night! You can't look at this kind girl's boyfriend!

"Hello, Hannah. Who's your friend?"

You suddenly grow aware of your super messy hair. He didn't laugh at it... but of course not, he's a Hufflepuff, most would never.

"Y/n, and I was just leaving, so you two can-" You start, standing up.

They both look at you oddly. "...be alone... what? Why are you both looking at me like I spoke parseltongue?!"

"You think we're..?" Hannah trails off, failing to hold back a laugh.

"Don't laugh, Abbott. She couldn’t have known," even while defending you, you could tell he was holding back a chuckle.

"So, the library was no luck?" Hannah asks Cedric after the air of humor dies out.

"No, I'm starting to think I should have asked for their name or something." He sighs.

"Now, that wouldn't be worthy of a romance novel, Diggory. True teenage romance novel status can only come with patience and hard work!" Hannah declares encouragingly.

"Sounds like a lot of guys are searching for their Halloween themed love story." You say.

"What do you mean by that, y/n?" Cedric asks.

"Last night the guy I was talking to was saying I should write him a romance novel." You put on a dramatic voice, "What Tethers our Soul, a love story between a skeleton boy and a ghost girl."

The two Hufflepuffs look at each other, making you feel like you were missing something.

"Diggory, didn't you mention giving your mystery person a ring at the end of the night?" She asks, like a detective on a case.

"I do remember mentioning that…" Cedric recalls, causing Hannah to giggle.

"I think your Cinderella was playing Sleeping Beauty all morning, that's why you couldn't find her." She takes your hand and shows off Cedric's ring on your thumb.

You realize what's going on and take the ring off, holding it out to Cedric. He takes it and your hand, putting the ring back on your thumb, "Have I inspired a romance yet?" he asks.

"Are you flirting with a ghost?" you ask.

"I suppose I am, are you prepared to write a very long romance novel?"

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