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cycwrites · 4 months

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A (Few) Day(s) in the Life - Lingerie

A very overdue second chapter of random glimpses into the lives of my favorite girls.

This was meant to be a short, fade to black ficlet while I tried to remember how to do this words thing. Close enough.

Thank you to everyone who has ever left me a comment on AO3 (I owe so many responses over the last 3 years) or sent me a message on Tumblr, encouraging me to continue after all this time. I’m really hoping to finish a few things next year as I still owe everyone a Staubrey origin and cliffhanger reveal.

For @tiny-maus-boots and @kimmania. I honestly don’t know if I’d be here without your unending support and encouragement in life as well as writing.

And for Rylee, who somehow convinced-slash-hoodwinked me into thinking about the Mitchsen chapter, which in turn reminded me I needed to get this one done first.

Words: 3600ish (aka the 2nd shortest thing I've ever written.)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter 1 (and the whole Nowish Universe) on AO3

Master Post for Tumblr

And just because, the Spotify playlist that helped me write pretty much every Pitch story.

A Pitch Perfect Lifetime

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~S~

Wednesday, October 11th, 2017

“Is it dumb that I’m nervous?”

Stacie turned to look at Aubrey who very clearly was avoiding looking at her. Which meant she missed the loving smile that Stacie aimed her way.

“Bree.” Aubrey didn’t turn, merely slid another hanger to the side and intently looked at the clothing behind it, which was exactly the same style and color. “There is a list of things you are not, and dumb is definitely on it.” Stacie resumed going through the rack in front of her, deciding this was one of those times that Aubrey needed to pretend they weren’t having a discussion about whatever was bothering her. She knew they’d eventually get to the heart of it. “Were you nervous with Chloe?”

A pause. “No.” Another few seconds filled with the sounds of hangers sliding along metal racks. “Chloe is home.”

“Are you saying Beca’s less?” Stacie grinned even though they still weren’t looking at each other.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Very snooty, very amused but then a longer pause. “But my history with Beca is more…”

“Spicy?” Stacie looked over her shoulder and saw Aubrey’s beautiful smile in profile.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Aubrey agreed wryly. “But that’s not quite what I meant.”

Stacie looked around them and lowered her voice even though there was no one else near them in the shop. “You guys have been alone before.”

“Not like this, no. Not since…” Aubrey’s voice was even quieter and Stacie had to strain a little to hear it. “You and or Chloe have always been in the house or within minutes of getting home.”

“Really?” Stacie turned and rested one elbow on the rack. “I’d have sworn…” She thought for a minute, watching Aubrey’s hands as they ran down lacy fabric. Their movements were graceful but precise. Controlled.

Chloe had a convention she wanted to attend the following week and it was Stacie’s turn to go with her, leaving Aubrey and Beca at home to hold down the fort. It was something they had done many times before, but it was the first time since beginning their new shared life together.

The nerves were making a kind of sense now, Stacie mused, reaching out to run her hand down Aubrey’s back before moving past her to another rack of lingerie. She didn’t know yet what exactly was going on in her beautiful wife’s head, but since Aubrey was at least dancing around the subject, it hopefully wouldn’t be too long before she could help work through it.

Briefly she wondered if Beca was nervous before deciding that of course she was. The two women were far more alike than either of them usually admitted to. In fact, she’d almost be willing to place a large sum of money that whatever was setting off Aubrey’s nerves was at least partially in Beca’s mind as well.

“Bree?” Stacie waited until Aubrey turned and held up a random negligee. “What about this one?”

“Hmm?” She turned, eyed it narrowly from top to bottom and pursed her lips before giving a single dismissive shake of her head “No.”

As she turned away, Stacie sighed and hung it back up before moving to stand next to Aubrey and flip through the same rack, though she wasn’t paying any attention to the clothing in front of them. “Are you turning your nose up at everything in every store we’ve stopped at today because you can’t find anything you think will make a good impression on the woman who already loves you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Another precise sliding of hangers from right to left.

“You’re using your high voice, Bree.” Stacie nudged her gently with her elbow. “The denial tone doesn’t work on me anymore.” She’d used to think it was just haughty and dismissive – and okay, sometimes it was – but now she knew that it usually hid uncertainty and a need to look in control when Aubrey felt anything but. “You could wear the Bella uniform and she’d still think you’re one of the three hottest women she’s ever seen. She’d be dying to rip it off you.”

Aubrey snorted. “That last is true – mostly because of the PTSD it would cause.”

“Ooh, yeah. That’s probably true.” She waited a moment, trying to figure out the best way to help. “It’s true though. She loves you and when I asked if you wanted to pick up matching lingerie, I didn’t mean to make you think you needed to dress up.”

“No, I know.” Aubrey glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “And I know I don’t, but…” She bit her lip in a very Chloe manner that made Stacie smile. “I want to make it special.”

“The fact that you exist makes every day special, love.” She leaned over and kissed Aubrey’s cheek. “For all of us. What’s really going on?”

With a sigh, Aubrey finally turned to face her, sheepishly meeting her eyes. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What do you mean?” Stacie’s brow furrowed.

She wondered if there was something else she was missing, having obviously not realized that the two women had never been fully alone together before. Sure, she and Chloe hadn’t yet either – a circumstance they were happily changing next weekend as well – but that was more random luck than anything. She knew how they all felt, knew them better than herself some days, and it had never occurred to her that any of them would be hesitant. Not with how much they loved and trusted each other.

Then again, she reminded herself, they were only three months into their new phase of life. A fact that she found hard to accept since it felt like they had been together for years this way. Plus, Aubrey and Beca were built a little different. More prone to listen to their darker fears even knowing they shouldn’t. Not anymore. And now that Stacie was thinking about it that way, things started falling into place.

“I wasn’t nervous with Chloe because she’s been my home for years. But with Beca…” Aubrey continued, looking down and then back up through lowered brows. “I worry she… It’s just that, the first year I was so terrible.”

“Aubrey.” Stacie very much wanted to reach out and hold her but didn’t think it was the place even if it was the damn time. “You’re both so far past that –”

“Rationally I know that!” Aubrey raised her hands in frustration but kept her voice low. “Or tell myself I do.” She signed softly, shoulders slumping. “But does she know?”

It was said so plaintively that Stacie pulled her into a hug, potential audiences be damned. “Know what, love?”

“That she’s as necessary to my continued existence as you and Chloe.” Aubrey pressed her face into Stacie’s shoulder, the words muffled but the worry coming through loud and clear.

Stacie thought about the way Beca would sometimes watch Aubrey in their quiet moments – while one or the other was working quietly on a laptop on the couch; when Aubrey was taking pictures of her garden, trying out her artistic angles while sober – her eyes so filled with peace and love… Chloe had confided to Stacie that on at least one occasion she’d had to make up some excuse and leave the room because it had moved her to tears.

“Oh… I’m very certain she knows.” Stacie kissed the side of her head. “But I’m definitely behind Project Woo Her if that’s what you want. I will never say no to looking at all these sexy outfits and picturing you in them.” She leaned down and whispered in Aubrey’s ear. “And to imagine Beca slowly removing them from you.” There was nothing more beautiful in Stacie’s mind than the image of any of them being together.

With a laugh, Aubrey stepped back, her smile genuine and more than a touch wicked. “Don’t think you’re going wind me up and lure me into the dressing room, lover.”

Relieved at the teasing, Stacie lifted her chin at the challenge. “Don’t think I’m ever going to give up trying.” She turned Aubrey around and patted her on the ass. “Now, let’s find you something that’ll make Beca’s legs weak before you even lay one silken fingertip on her skin.” Aubrey flashed a wink over her shoulder and Stacie felt some of the tension drain from her. It was likely only temporary, but she’d just do her best to draw the rest of it out or, at the least, keep Aubrey distracted for the next week.

In part she supposed that’s why she had made the suggestion that they go shopping for the non-boring sleepwear that Beca said they should bring over. Both because she wanted to reaffirm, once again, that this was all okay and she was one million percent behind this amazing new life they were making as a foursome. But also, that she expected Aubrey and Beca to enjoy any and all of their moments alone just as Aubrey was encouraging Stacie to do with Chloe. Sure, it might be a little strange to just be two bodies instead of three or four, but they all knew each other inside and out – puns absolutely intended – and she couldn’t imagine it feeling awkward for any of them.

It certainly hadn’t phased Aubrey just a few weeks earlier when she and Chloe had finally realized what had been growing between them for years.

Then again, the rest of them didn’t have the contentious history that Beca and Aubrey did, and the last thing she wanted to do was dismiss Aubrey’s worries and make her feel worse about them. Maybe she’d just have to have a talk with Chloe to see if there was matching nerves and anxiety at the Beale-Mitchell household and see what they could do to help their partners relax. She smirked to herself as she continued that thought and realized that even if she and Chlo failed, once the other two were past the first few minutes they would help each other relax just fine. Repeatedly.

After a couple more minutes of perusing, holding up various outfits up to each other and dismissing them, Stacie pulled a white bustier and panty set and held them up. It was satin and lace, zipped down the center and it was solid with none of the peek-a-boo cutouts that she normally bought. Simple and yet it called to her to try it on.

“Hey Bree? I’m going to go try this one.”

“Oh?” Aubrey turned and Stacie held it behind her back. “Seriously?” She pouted and Stacie laughed.

“You’ll see soon enough.” The pout deepened and she relented. “I won’t make you wait until we’re home – you’ll get to decide if we buy it or not.”

“Oooh, I’m in charge today?” Aubrey’s eyebrows rose in delight.

“For now.” As Aubrey laughed behind her, Stacie made her way to the fitting rooms and found most of them unoccupied. Taking the one against the left wall, she locked the door behind her and quickly stripped, knowing that Aubrey would be drifting closer as she looked for the perfect outfit.

The straps over the shoulder were adjustable and fit comfortably and when she zipped the top closed, it wasn’t constrictive. The front of the bustier came down to points that would pair perfectly with nylons and garter straps if one were so inclined.

Each room had tri-fold mirror on one wall so shoppers could get a better idea of how everything looked from all angles and after a couple minutes of turning this way and that, Stacie decided she approved. She’d also decided that Aubrey would look utterly fucking delicious in this same outfit in black and definitely with nylons. Satisfied with how it fit her, she opened the door and found Aubrey only a little way away, holding up another bustier and panty set that was all silk, lace and almost matched the color of Chloe’s eyes.

“We’re definitely going to have to get that one for her,” Stacie said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah?” Aubrey tilted her head as she eyed the outfit. “I think so too.” She finally turned her head and toward the dressing rooms. “I thi –” She stopped mid word, her eyes widening and her hands going slack, suddenly nerveless fingers losing their grip on the hanger and letting it fall to the ground, utterly forgotten.

It immediately brought to mind the night she’d proposed; Aubrey had reflexively dropped the rib that she’d been eating when Stacie had brought out the ring. It almost shamed her to admit it, but her ego purred under the immediate desire that lit Aubrey’s face, even as she marveled that this beautiful and complex woman was hers to love forever.

Then Aubrey was moving, a not-quite-casual swift power walk that bordered on a charge. Stacie was unprepared as her wife pushed her back into the fitting room, closing the door behind them. Stacie started laughing as Aubrey’s hands began to run over her hips and thighs; the amusement at the best reaction she had ever gotten in public from Aubrey filtering the slow building sizzle as the touches burned with serious intent.

“Bree?” The chuckles still bubbled up but they were followed quickly by the urge to moan as Aubrey’s fingertips dipped just under the edge of the panties and slid back and forth.

“Can you be quiet?” Aubrey’s lips were busy pressing kisses to her exposed upper chest and Stacie took an involuntary deep breath, lifting herself closer and it was Aubrey’s turn to chuckle against her skin.

“Me?” Stacie found herself in the unfamiliar position of having her mind short circuit and having to sprint to catch up with her normally restrained in public spouse. “You’re the loud one.”

Aubrey’s head snapped up, indignant. “I am not!” To her credit, it was whispered and not shouted like it usually was at home. The corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s Beca.” She slowly backed Stacie up until she was against the wall.

“Oh, right.” Stacie licked her lips as Aubrey’s hands resumed their wandering over her body. She flicked a look at the door and was grateful to see that even in her rush to get them in the room, Aubrey had locked it behind them. “You’re going to get us kicked out of here before we can buy these, aren’t you?”

“Not if we’re quiet.” She paused, just the slightest bit, giving Stacie the opportunity to stop things before they got too far.

As if.

“Well, I did say you’re in charge…”

With a familiar wicked glint in her eyes, Aubrey’s fingertips once again dipped under the edge of the panties but this time she pushed, her palms skimming down and taking the fabric with them until they fell to the floor. Her nails ran back up the outside of Stacie’s thighs and up her sides to trace the edge of the bustier, tickling as they barely grazed her skin. “God, you look amazing, Stacie.” She flattened her hands and ran them over Stacie’s breasts to her stomach, curving them around her ribs before retracing her steps. “You feel so good.”

It was unspoken that they would need to be quick as well as quiet. There had only been a handful of times that Stacie had been able to coax Aubrey into anything even half as risky and all of them had been at night and most with alcohol. She knew without being told that if she hadn’t come before Aubrey reached whatever timer she had going on in her head, Stacie would have to wait until they got home.

Aubrey’s fingers were on the zipper of the bustier and Stacie could tell she wanted to do it slow, teasingly, but they just didn’t have that sort of time. She pulled normally, as if this were any normal trying on of outfits, but the second Stacie’s breasts were free, her lips covered one nipple and sucked lightly.

Stacie’s head rebounded lightly off the wall as she jerked in pure reaction and she winced at the small thump, hoping it didn’t carry. She tried to say something, anything, to keep anyone from asking if she was okay, but even a simple “Oops” wouldn’t pass her lips when Aubrey’s hand slid down and cupped her center.

“I think that one looks great, Stace.” Aubrey’s voice was shockingly even for someone who’s lips brushed Stacie’s nipple as she spoke for the benefit of an audience that might not even exist. “Try the other one.” As if her middle finger wasn’t slightly stroking Stacie’s clit in all the right ways to make her whimper even though that was definitely not in today’s rules.

‘Let’s hear it for Posen control,’ she thought giddily, her legs parting to give Aubrey a little more room. But even as she really hoped Aubrey didn’t expect her to answer, she looked down and saw Aubrey’s eyebrow lift in challenge.

Goddamnit.

She licked lips suddenly gone dry and took a deep breath. “Sure, Bree.” She was rewarded by Aubrey’s mouth on her breast once more, tongue swirling to match the motions of her middle finger.

Stacie could already tell it wasn’t going to take long, the sheer fact of Aubrey – her unbelievably sexy but usually-proper-in-public wife – taking her in broad goddamned daylight, even if they were in a locked room, was enough to throw her halfway to orgasm; she could hear people talking in other rooms for fucks sake and Aubrey was still touching her and showing no signs of stopping.

With an ease brought about only by familiarity and deep trust, it didn’t take long for Aubrey to have Stacie wet and writhing against her. She swallowed the gasp as those long, skillful fingers filled her in a way guaranteed to reduce her to a trembling mess in their bed. Except she was plastered to a wall and had to lock her knees to keep herself upright as Aubrey took her in complete silence, their eyes locked together.

She would have thought it was the images of them in the mirrors that surrounded them that would have done it, but it was Aubrey’s gaze softening from wicked determination to sensual devotion – a distinction and emotion Stacie had never known before Aubrey – that pushed Stacie to the peak. She reached down with her hand and gripped Aubrey’s wrist, pulling up until Aubrey understood what she was after and thrust deep within, her palm tight to the curve of Stacie’s body; letting her set the pace and take what she needed. Her eyes closing involuntarily, Stacie rolled her hips, rising and falling, chasing her release until Aubrey leaned forward and raised ever so slightly on her tiptoes to whisper in Stacie’s ear.

“Come for me, mon Soleil.”

Her body surrendered instantaneously. She pulled harder on Aubrey’s wrist, her hips driving downward in rocking spasms as she rode Aubrey’s touch. Eventually her body slowed and she realized she had no idea how much time had gone by, though she was very aware she didn’t have enough time to sink into the blissful lassitude spreading through her muscles in the aftermath. They had to pull themselves together – or apart as the case may be – and clean up. There was also no way they were leaving without buying the garments that had been so gleefully stripped from her.

In several variations.

Leaning against the wall, she kept her eyes closed for another few moments, enjoying the languor before she had to hustle back into her clothes. Except she heard another zipper and looked around to find Aubrey digging into her purse one handed. She couldn’t help it; she started laughing as Aubrey pulled out a pack of wet wipes.

“Always prepared, aren’t you, love?” Just one of the legion of reasons she had fallen in love.

Despite the hint of rose in her cheeks, Aubrey handed over several. “Never know when they might come in handy.” In a lower aside, she half muttered, “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to go walking through the shop with you all over my hand.” A pause. “You’re definitely going to go pay and I’ll meet you in the car.”

Stacie merely smiled. “’Kay.”

It didn’t take long to clean themselves up and for Stacie to get dressed. When Aubrey left the room, power walking like a champ, Stacie took another moment to rearrange the outfit on the hanger and hopefully make it less obvious the room had been very occupied.

When she went back to the rack, she kept an unobtrusive eye on other shoppers but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to her. Deciding to stop worrying about it, she picked up the same outfit in black in Aubrey’s size, as well as a red outfit of similar design that caught her eye. It took only another moment to find the blue lingerie Aubrey had been holding and bring all four outfits up to the counter.

Finishing the transaction without the cashier giving her any sort of knowing look, she pushed her way through the door and out into the bright sun, wishing she’d brought her sunglasses with her. Lengthening her stride, she headed down the block to where they’d parked the car, anticipation singing through her veins like champagne. She couldn’t wait to get Aubrey home and in bed to return the gift she’d just been given…

And maybe later they’d invite Beca and Chloe over and see who was louder once and for all.

#aubrey posen #stacie conrad #chloe beale #beca mitchell #staubrey #bechloe #bellas squared #a shared lifetime #cyc writes #a few days #pitch perfect fanfic

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lightofleia · 2 years

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dauntless parties - peter hayes

hi!! here’s another peter hayes fic, which i’ve decided to post in full on tumblr instead of just linking to my ao3. also i’d like to remind everyone that i’m still taking requests!

Word Count: 3,324

Pairing: Peter Hayes x Reader

Description: Peter always comes to you when he’s hurt, tonight is no different. No War AU

Warnings: Very brief sexual references, blood, injury, mention of alcohol.

Music echoed throughout the infirmary, the only sign of the Dauntless party happening a level below, the one you were so unceremoniously disinvited to when you’d been called to work the night shift. It seemed to be taunting you, and as the hour grew darker, and the fluorescent lighting grew stronger, you could feel your own annoyance grow

You supposed you wouldn’t care much if you had any company, but all the beds were empty— Dauntless would rather die than miss a party, apparently— and the other nurses saw no reason to stay when you could clearly hold down the fort on your own. It was just typical, really, for them to do this. What kind of a job was a nurse for a Dauntless, anyways? Someone had to do it, but why you? Of course, you knew the answer; they couldn’t think of a better place to put an Abnegation transfer.

The thought made you groan, throwing down the book you’d been flipping through aimlessly. If they weren’t going to respect you, why should you respect them? There weren't even any patients there, there hardly ever were; no self-respecting Dauntless would be found in the infirmary unless they absolutely needed to be there, and, to their credit, they rarely did.

Besides, tonight was a party, the only people getting hurt were idiots. Idiots who probably didn’t even deserve your attention. Idiots who—

Banging at the door interrupted your internal rant, but before you could even see who was there, Peter came stumbling in, and suddenly you understood the purpose of you being here tonight. Idiots like him, of course.

You could tell the extent of his injuries from the way he smiled at you, goofier than Peter had ever mustered before, or had ever wanted to. Still, he wore that same smug look he always had, and seeing him so bold in such a vulnerable state left you with the urge to roll your eyes. Unfortunately, telling him off would have to wait, overwhelmed by your need to help him— whether that comes from your Abnegation roots or your medical training, you don’t know, but you can’t be bothered to think too deeply about it, especially now— and you find yourself rushing towards him to take a better look at the damage.

“I think I just need some rest,” He says, leaning heavily against the wall as if he intends to fall asleep where he stood.

“You need stitches,” You correct him, ignoring the way he winces as you poke at the gash above his eyebrow. “How did you even get that?”

“Fist fight turned into a knife fight,” Peter groans, allowing you to lead him to one of the beds. He sits on the edge, clutching his side. “Who brings a knife to a party?”

“You do,” You say with an amused sniff. You know fully well Peter is only playing dumb with you because he wants your sympathy, and because he doesn’t want to admit to losing a fight he probably initiated himself. If you knew him, which you did, the other guy was fairly cut up as well, but no one had as good a reason to make a trip to the infirmary than the boy in front of you.

“Just lay down,” You sigh, and he listens, though his pained expression shows it’s not with much ease. You begin to rummage through the cabinet for the supplies you need, watching him from the corner of your eye. It’s been such a long time since you first saw him this way, but the memory feels fresh.

You’d been in initiation together, fought each other even, though fighting you rarely seemed to earn him more than a scratch. Looking back, you figured that had been a good thing. You passed initiation, but not by much, and that kept you off Peter’s radar for the most part.

It had been a fight with Edward that left you caring for him that first time. He had too much pride to go to the actual infirmary, and so you found him tending to his own wounds in the bathroom, late at night.

“Tell anyone about this, and you’ll be dead,” He had said as you wrapped a bandage around his bruised knuckles. His words were so cold that even the memory of them made you shiver.

You knew you shouldn’t have helped him, but you really shouldn’t have continued to do so after Edward lost his eye just a few days later. Peter made no attempt to hide this side of himself from you, but still, it became a habit for you to tend to his injuries, to take care of him. It happened again and again, until his threats disappeared and were replaced with words you could almost call compliments. Even after initiation, he came to you for help. Soon, you realized he would only come to you. Something in you warmed at the thought.

You weren’t sure if you hated the way he made you feel, but you were sure you wanted to. Your wants, however, seemed futile in the wake of his presence, like your caring for him was a tsunami washing over you, swallowing you up.

Even now, as you return to him, he looks at you with his big, doe eyes, and you want nothing more than to punch him. You’re sure he knows what he’s doing (when doesn’t he?) but you don’t say a word.

You unscrew the lid to a bottle of pills the Erudite makes especially for Dauntless fighters, some magic cure-all that your father would probably claim kills brain cells. You hand feed a couple to Peter, to which he has no protest, and you can imagine the looks you’d get if you weren’t alone. The thought makes you laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, blinking up at you through a swollen eye.

“Just you,” You say as you return the pills to their place in the cabinet and lock it. With a second glance at Peter, you realize the Erudite science has proved you useless again, and sigh as you put the needle and thread back too, opting for a bandage instead.

“I thought I was your favorite patient?” Peter asks, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, but you only scoff.

“Maybe if you got hurt less than twice a week,” You say as you begin to apply ointment to the cut above his eyebrow. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, but doesn’t complain. If you had any less willpower, you might’ve apologized.

“So,” He says, his need to be a nuisance greater than any pain that could be inflicted on him, “What I’m hearing is you hate to see me hurt.”

“You always hear what you want to, don’t you? I hate to see anyone hurt,” You make sure to apply his bandage with a little more pressure than necessary. “It makes my job harder.”

“So cynical,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Have you ever heard of proper bedside manner?”

“Dauntless doesn’t care much about the patient's health, Peter,” You tell him, and he smiles. Of course, it’s that cruelty that made him so fit for Dauntless in the first place.

“Then how come you’re always so sweet to me?” He says sarcastically, and you frown, glaring at him. “When you’re not jabbing at me with a needle or wrapping my bandages too tight, that is.”

“Any jabbing or lack of blood flow is for your own good,” You say, though it’s a struggle not to laugh as you think of the times you’ve had to give him stitches, and how he’d look at the needle like it was a grenade. You were sure he’d rather be looking down the barrel of a gun.

“So you do care?” Peter grins so wide it looks like it must hurt.

“Only as much as I’m required to,” You stand up, making a move away from his side, but before you can take even a step further, he grabs your hand.

“Sit with me a while longer,” He says, pulling you back to where you were. You listen, as if you could even try and will yourself away, and you can tell by the cheeky look on his face that he takes some kind of pride in this.

The build between you had been so slow, you’re not sure either of you could pinpoint when you became aware of his hold on you. It seemed likely he’d known for far longer than you, maybe even since that first night on the bathroom floor. Peter was manipulative, he was cruel, you knew it as well as anyone else, it was completely reasonable to assume he’d been exploiting this little crush you had on him. The thought made you feel sick.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and though you can tell he’s trying to be nice, he still looks at you as if you’ve swallowed a bug. Maybe it’s a symptom of his injured state, or maybe it’s the years of fake niceties catching up with him. Either seems entirely possible.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You say, looking around the room for an excuse to leave his side, though his hand is still clasped firmly over yours, as if he can read your mind. “Maybe you should eat, any alcohol in your system will delay the healing process and food could—”

“I didn’t drink,” Peter interrupts you, and you eye him suspiciously. “Seriously! I don’t trust my drunk self at a Dauntless party, not after what happened last time.”

“I wouldn’t either,” You say, though you’re secretly glad for that reassurance. The few times you had seen Peter drunk made you cringe now, especially the times he found it appropriate to drape an arm around you, whispering incomprehensible innuendos in your ear as you smiled awkwardly at curious passersby and hoped none of your friends found you. Apparently he thought it was amusing to humiliate you, despite all you’d done for him, but you couldn’t be mad at him when any scolding you tried just left him grinning like an idiot. “You’re impossibly annoying when you’re drunk.”

“Really? I thought you liked me hanging off of you,” He sighs, as if disappointed. “Besides, you’re not much better.”

“What?” You ask, the shock so clear in your voice that he laughs.

“You don’t remember?” Peter looks at you with a smirk. “I guess I’m not surprised, you were pretty out of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That party just a couple weeks ago, when the power went out?” You know what he’s talking about, or at least, you heard about it.

“I thought Christina took me home,” You say, though now that you thought about it, the night was too blurry for you to confirm that with yourself.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “But you’d been dancing with me all night, and when I got back to my place, you were there waiting outside my door.”

“Oh god, we didn’t—?”

“No, no. I told you, I swore off drinking at parties months ago,” Peter shakes his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “I just took you home, stayed with you most of the night.”

“Really?” You ask, finding it hard to believe he’d ever do something like that.

“Well, it was free entertainment,” He says with that wicked look in his eye. “You tried to flirt with me for at least a couple hours. I didn’t know you were so persistent.”

You feel yourself go bright red, not able to imagine the things you must’ve said. You’re about to apologize when he stops you.

“I imagine I’m worse though,” He laughs, “With the way you look and all.”

You’re a bit taken aback by that, but he seems unfazed, as if what he’s said is completely normal. He looks at you the way he’s always looked at you, but his words still make your heart beat a little faster, no matter how casual he seems.

“It was nice, though, when you danced with me. It seems like you’re always avoiding me,” He says after we’ve been quiet for a moment. He doesn’t seem sad, or even angry, more just curious, or maybe amused. Like he’s satisfied with his reputation. “Is it because of your friends? Or because of me?”

“You’re not exactly nice to them.” Or me, You consider adding, but don’t.

“Why should I be nice to them?” Peter laughs as if the idea is ridiculous. “I don’t like them.”

“Oh please, you don’t like anyone,” The words taste bad in your mouth, but you know they’re true, and you rip your hand out of his grasp. This is his greatest talent, of course, getting people riled up. He seems to relish in it. “Not even your lackeys.”

“They’re idiots,” Peter says dismissively, and you can’t help but feel wounded. If he thinks of the people he calls friends as idiots, what could he possibly think of you? You must seem like a total pushover to him, and though you hate to care about his opinion, the thought hurts you deep in your core. You feel as if your stomach might turn inside out.

But before you can worry yourself to death, he says, “You're wrong, though.”

You lift your eyebrows and fold your arms across your chest, urging him to go on, but too afraid to open your mouth out of fear of what you might say. You don’t want to stoop to his level.

“I do like some people,” You watch intently as Peter places a hand on your thigh, much more innocently than you thought he was capable of. “I like you.”

When you open your mouth to speak, it’s as if your tongue has been cut out. Your mind is screaming at you to say something, anything, but you simply cannot. This feels as if it goes on for hours before Peter looks at you with the most obnoxious grin, and suddenly, your voice returns, as if your very being simply couldn’t allow him this win.

“Wipe that smug look off your face,” You snap, but he only laughs. “I’m serious.”

“I bet you are,” he says, and though you’d never take this from anyone else, you find yourself only minorly annoyed by Peter, again. Really, if he was anyone else, you probably would’ve killed him by now.

“I should’ve gone to that damn party,” You think back to your inconsiderate coworkers with a glare at the door. “Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up here.”

“I think I would’ve ended up in your apartment instead,” He says, almost wistfully. “Though, it’s not too late for any of that.”

With a glance to the clock on the wall, you see he’s right. It’s not even one yet.

The look he gives you, like always, leaves you wanting nothing more than to even have a clue as to what he’s thinking. At least now, you have a better guess.

“How about this,” Peter starts, a mischievous glint in his eye that leaves you more excited than it should. “I don’t tell your superiors you left your post, and you give me one dance.”

“Nothing explicit,” You add, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” He says, “But you might not be able to resist.”

You groan in disgust, but as he stands you take his hand and allow him to lead you out of the infirmary.

—

It’s almost funny, the way you walk in together, with your arm looped around his. What’s even more odd is that Peter was the one to insist upon it, but you see its deeper purpose in the looks you receive. You can tell from the skip in his step that he loves the attention.

Despite the fact that you’re completely sober, something comparable to the effects of alcohol had seemed to wash over you in the time it took to walk from the infirmary to the Pit. The worries that have plagued you for months now don’t even cross your mind; the betrayal you took part in every time you helped Peter, your Abnegation background haunting you even past initiation, not even the unexplainable affection you felt towards the boy next to you could weigh on your thoughts now. The music is too loud, the lights are too strong, and Peter is standing too close.

“Peter, what are you doing back here?” An angry voice calls from behind Peter, and, in just a moment, you’re whipped around along with him, face to face with Tris. She looks angry, to say the least, but with Peter’s presence that’s a given. When she sees you, though, her expression becomes unreadable.

“I got fixed up,” He says, gesturing to you, a wide grin spread over his face. You realize Tris is injured too, though far less than Peter is, and it becomes apparent she’s the one he’d fought with. “Figured I better come back with a date, too.”

“I thought you were working tonight,” Tris says, completely ignoring Peter.

“I was,” You admit, “But I couldn’t let him back out here unsupervised.”

“We always end up together at the end of the night anyways,” Peter says, prompting you to jab your elbow into his side.

Tris eyes you up and down, staring at you as if Peter isn’t even there. At first, you worry she’s giving you some kind of death glare, but you quickly realize she’s deciding whether or not to leave you with Peter.

“We’ll see you later, Tris,” You say finally, not giving her any time to reply before you’ve tugged

Peter away from her. A second longer and they might’ve been at it again, and you aren’t gonna end the night without the dance you’d promised Peter.

“So eager,” He says, whisper-shouting in your ear once you’ve read the center of the crowd. All around you are people dancing. or fighting. though some of it is hard to tell apart.

You roll your eyes at him, but don’t make any protest when he pulls you in close. You take cues from the rest of the crowd when it comes to dancing, your heartbeat too loud in your ears to be able to properly hear the music.

This isn’t the soft, romantic dancing you’d heard of Amity couples doing, Dauntless would never allow a slow enough song for that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you can tell Peter feels the same. He keeps you pressed to him so tightly you’re afraid you might melt into one person. You’d expect the sweat between the two of you to make you at least a little bit uncomfortable, but instead it has you excited, so completely aware of every sense despite the fact that all of them are being overwhelmed.

At some point, you find yourselves in the center of a very rowdy group. It doesn’t bother you, really, but you can tell from the scowl on his face that you’re a few seconds away from losing his attention completely.

You place your hand under his chin and turn his head so his eyes are back on you. His gaze softens, though not in the same way it does for strangers and unsuspecting victims. You’re almost sure you’ve got that difference down now, or at least you’d like to think that you would after all the time you’ve spent with him.

“We should get out of here,” Peter says, though you have to read his lips a little to understand him.

“I think you’re right,” You agree, allowing him to tug you away from the Pit entirely.

You suppose you don’t realize where he’s leading you until you’re at his door, but another part of you was sure where the two of you were headed. Either way, you know you aren’t mad about it.

You are, however, surprised when he holds open the door for you.

#peter hayes x reader #peter hayes #divergent fanfiction #divergent #tris prior #insurgent #allegiant #veronica roth

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miscelunaaa · 1 year

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flurious | ksj

pairing: seokjin x female reader

genre: college au ig. slice of life?? really I have no idea tbh

summary: it's fine, you're not mad at your best friend at all! in fact!! you're so fine that you're going to work off some steam just to prove how fine you are!!

rating: T for too much swearing

word count: 3k

warnings: Based On Real Events™️ (at least in part). Reader can’t ice skate. Lots of swearing. Reader is a stubborn piece of shit (affectionate). Himbecile Namjoon (derogatory). Unrequited crushes if you squint. Very cold winter environments. Small college vibes. Lots of talk about falling on one’s butt and bruises and common impact injuries associated with learning how to do coordinated things like ice skating for the first time; reader’s a tough nugget, she’s doing great. She might also have a slight pain kink oops. Vague prejudice against tenors I’m sorry. Crack if you squint. Angst if you squint. The only thing fluffy about this fic is Jin’s coat tbh, it’s intended to be more of a slice of life than anything else.

notes: Hi. It's missing Seokjin hours in the emothy household so have a short oneshot that I started months ago and randomly finished last night when I couldn't sleep. This really is actually based on a real experience I had, but that's all I'm going to say about the matter alksjhfalsjkdh

For once, I’m not feeling super long winded, so we’re going to leave it at that! Enjoy <3

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The student union is vacant when you walk into its warm, welcoming arms. It’s perfect. No one can judge you for what you’re about to attempt and that’s exactly what you want.

“I’d like to rent a pair of skates please,” you ask the student worker at the desk.

She blearily looks up from a thick textbook and asks for your shoe size before standing to fetch them from the equipment closet. In return for the skates, you leave your student I.D. The entire exchange takes mere seconds. You haven’t even regained the warmth in your nose before you’re stepping back out into the cold night and stomping off to the shabby, makeshift ice rink on the quad.

It’s a clear evening. The stars flicker coldly above, making the eerie yellow light of the campus’s many lamp posts seem warm in comparison. It’s a Saturday evening; no one’s wandering around the tiny college at this strangely late hour, not with a foot of snow pack on the ground, so there’s no one around to watch you angrily try to teach yourself to ice skate.

Anger comes naturally to you. It’s easy, if not outright comfortable, for you to just sit and stew in the emotion. Yet still it’s all to your detriment, making you feel frazzled and out of control. Times like this call for full body distractions, and what’s better than teaching yourself something you’ve literally never done before?

Falling on your ass is the perfect distraction from your asshole best friend’s bullshit right now. It’s fucking perfect and nothing is stopping you from doing this, least of all him. After all, he’s the one who came back from winter break with a fancy new hair cut and now allll the girls are like “uwu Joonie you look so nice without the perm.” While he’s getting all that attention there’s nothing to stop you from sneaking away, because why on earth would he pay attention to you, his fucking best friend, when he could be paying attention to girls far cuter than you even if they’d thought he was gross when he had the perm? God he’s so fucking stupid.

It doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t really see the difference anyway. He’s still a total freak even without the perm so you don’t really get the hype. It’ll take five minutes for the fawning to cease because in that time he’ll open his big dumb mouth and anyone with two brain cells to rub together will see how much of a dweeb he still is. Even so, the people continue to come in flocks and crowd you out. There’s alway someone new who wants to look at the newly pretty boy.

Fuck ... being ignored like that (to your face!!) fucking hurts. Anger is always preferable to the sting of being ignored. The anger means that you’re at least trying to be productive, even as you hide yourself away from the world. The cold is as good a shield as any.

You sit on the rickety edge of the rink and kick off your boots. Carefully, you pull on each skate and lace them up tight, making sure that your ankles have no room to roll. You find yourself swearing angrily as your gloved hands struggle with the laces, but your anger bolsters your persistence. Nothing can take you down from this high, not even the threat of absolutely biffing it like you know you’re going to.

It takes a moment to talk yourself into standing once you’ve set the blades to the ice. “Just stand to start” is what you tell yourself. After a few moments, and a flash or two of dimples in your mind’s eye, you get yourself to stand.

With arms flailing, you stay upright for a good ten seconds. Your fatal flaw, however, is hubris. In your hubris you thought you could take a tentative step forward.

As it turns out, ice can smell fear and has an impact play kink.

You stare up at the sky for a moment after your first fall. Your ass hurts and will probably ache like a bitch tomorrow, but honestly you’re kind of a masochist; you’re not not into this. Why else would you be in this situation, so angry with your annoyingly cute freak of a best friend that you can hardly function? You knew he was handsome underneath the questionable aesthetic choices, and you knew he was dumb enough that he’d start ignoring you to talk to people he was more romantically interested in as soon as he fixed his appearance. You always knew this would happen, and yet you invested time in him anyway. You always rate last; experiencing this pain was only a matter of time.

And yet, the seconds tick by. You steel yourself and carefully stand, avoiding a second slip, but only just. You narrow your eyes at your goal: the rink wall opposite of where you started. You’re going to fucking do this, falls be damned. It’s like ten yards. You can totally do this. You’re going to make this stupid ice your bitch.

Eight seconds later, you’re on your ass again. But hey, you made it a few feet forward. Progress is still progress in spite of accrued costs.

And so you stand again. You try doing that pushing thing with the blade of the skate, but something in your body doesn’t expect to move, so you wobble unsteadily for a moment. A breath, and then another push, more gently this time. Ah, you’re doing it! Yet another push and—

Well ... At least the stars make good company. Your elbow hurts this time; you must’ve whacked it in the fall. Feels like it’ll bruise but that’s just the cost of doing business with this rink and your own stupidity. You carefully scramble up, and try again.

When you finally make it to the other side of the rink, you’re so excited that you trip into the little wall. At least you can catch yourself with your hands this way. And hey, moving to a sitting position isn’t so hard! The cold soothes your achey butt as you let yourself relax for a moment.

Maybe this was a stupid idea. You can feel the high of white hot rage beginning to cool. You’re not sure if it’s the pain or the exertion. Maybe it’s time to pack up and return the skates. It’s getting late after all, you probably need to at least try to sleep.

You’re so mired in your thoughts that you almost miss the backlit figure appear, exiting the student union. Whoever it is is wearing a big puffy coat, and they have something odd looking in their hands. After a moment you realize, heat crawling up your neck, that the item in their hands is a pair of skates, and they’re walking across the quad to the rink.

You stand quickly, albeit unsteadily, as if to show that the rink is occupied, but alas, they seem undeterred. Shit. The only thing that could make this worse is if you were to suddenly loose your balance.

Lo and behold, fate has a sense of humor, and you do just that before you can think to do anything else.

You grimace as you sit up. You weren’t expecting an audience for this. As the figure approaches, you see that it’s one of the guys who works the student union’s cafe some evenings. He’s always seemed nice enough and ugh, he’s cute too. He’s got these broad shoulders that your friends love to stare at while they wait for their drinks to be made. Definitely not the audience you’d prefer if you must have one. As you scramble back upright, he sits at the edge of the rink and starts to unlace his boots.

“Hello,” he says quietly, glancing up as he pulls on a skate. His voice is low, with a rich timbre you didn’t expect. He sounds like he might be a tenor. You hate tenors. You hate musicians. Namjoon’s a musician too, the bastard.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying not to grit your teeth in frustration. You don’t even look at him when he looks at you; you don’t need his approval, and looking at him will just make you shy. You don’t have time for that shit, damn it. With care, you try to push forward again, before stopping, arms flailing. You only just manage to preserve your balance and straighten up so you can try again.

The intruder watches you warily as he starts to pull on his rented skates. You can feel the press of his curiosity on the back of your neck and you don’t know how to politely ask for him to simply not.

You’re pretty sure you see him flinch when your skates suddenly, but inevitably, slip out from beneath you, leaving you sprawled out on your ass, the ice beneath cold yet soothing for your bruised buttocks. And yet, he says nothing as he pushes off from the side of the rink, gracefully no less. He says nothing as you pull yourself up again, only to fall again as well, just as you were finding your balance. You take a deep breath, fog slowly coming from your lips as you let it out. Once you’re to your feet again, and without falling this time, you can’t help but let yourself smile, just a little, just to yourself.

Giving up whomst? You could never.

For a moment, you just stand on the ice, breathing and letting yourself feel the skates wrapped around your feet and ankles. Just a small push now. Can’t let this rando see you sweat now, can you?

The stranger watches, his handsome face blank but for curious eyes, as you make it a whole fifteen seconds before slipping and falling again, this time onto a knee and your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him grimace as you look at your hands and dust them of with a huffed little “fuck.”

He’s literally skating circles around you. It’s fucking obnoxious, but damn it, you want to be able to skate like that too. So you stand up again, and vicious cycle begins anew.

“You okay?” the stranger suddenly asks. It startles you, the wobble almost sending you to the ice with a crack yet again.

“I’m fine.” Your tone is clipped with frustration. You sure as shit don’t sound fine.

He drifts across your field of vision, going fucking backwards on his skates. It’s like it’s nothing! Fucking show off. What a fucking d—

Alright. That fall kind of hurt for real. Your poor elbows. They might be having a worse time than your knees. Did you just knock the wind out of yourself with that one?

His words come from a little closer this time. “Are you sure you’re—“

“—I’m fucking fine.”

You didn’t mean to snap. You really didn’t. Everything was fine until this dude just joined you out here out of the blue with his stupid face and his stupid talent and—

“You’re really scrappy, you know that right?”

You glare at him as you push yourself back to your feet. His plush mouth splits into a heart-rending smile. Fuck, he’s cute. Bitch, do not do this to yourself.

He keeps talking as you struggle aright. “I mean it. I’ve never watched someone keep falling like that just to get up and try again.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. You’re glad you’ve got the built in focus of trying to do something out of your comfort zone and skill set, so an immediate reply isn’t expected. But you do have to say something in reply eventually. The comment was just ... kind of unexpected. And honestly, you think he meant it well, and it’s hard not to let the pride push a smile to your face. You fight it, of course, because you’re supposed to be angry, not pleased.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good,” you finally grit out. “But thank you.” Ah, that was good. Keep that shit up, and maybe he won’t think you’re a total freak by the time one or the other of you leaves.

“There are worse things to be.” His smile is warm enough to melt the ice beneath the blades of your skates. Cold? What cold? You feel nothing but blistering heat creeping up your neck. You’re not used to this kind of attention from anyone, if you’re being honest, let alone cute barista boys in puffy coats. “Tenacity isn’t a bad thing.”

“The bruises on my ass say otherwise.”

When he laughs, it’s low in his chest, velvety like the milk he steams for the cute folks that come to him for lattes and London fogs. You’d be swept away by his charms completely as well if you weren’t too busy being swept off your feet by your own stupidity.

You hardly feel the thump when you hit the hard surface of the ice this time. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re cold or if it’s just you’re used to falling now. The numbness of either is the same after a certain point; that’s the point of numbness, after all.

For a moment, you stare at the sky. It gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching the stars twinkle and flicker as if they’re laughing at something reminds you that, right, you’re not alone out here on the ice. You hope the stars aren’t laughing at your shitty attempts to flirt with this stranger.

When you pull yourself up to sit, you see that the cute stranger is carefully skating backwards, his head turned and tilted so he can see where he’s going. Good lord, he’s handsome, even like this. In the grimy street lamp light, you can see that his face has been kissed by the cold, but it doesn’t do much to make him look less attractive. The focus on his face makes it almost look suggestive as he bites down on his plush lip. For a moment, you allow yourself to watch, thankful that he’s not looking at you.

When he glances at you, still sitting on the ice with your legs spread haphazardly, your eyes meet his. He smiles at you. Suddenly, the air leaves your lungs as if you’ve fallen again, the wind knocked from them like you’ve taken a blow. And then as soon as it happens, it stops, for one moment he was smiling at you, and the next he was sprawled on the ice with a thud and the smallest, cutest “fuck” you’ve ever heard in your life.

The look of surprise on his face is so aghast that you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m so—“ wheeze “—s-sorry, I shouldn’t—“ fuck, that’s hilarious “—laugh b-but the look on your f-face!”

The shock fades, only to be replaced by a pout that cracks at the edges as he tries not to laugh with you.

You start to push yourself forward him, half crawling, half crab-walking. Soon the pout breaks into a smile as you sit beside him and poke his cheek with a gloved finger. Where on earth did that fucking come from?? You’re poking strangers now??

“How does it feel to be a mere mortal?” you ask. Maybe the question will distract from the ... random face poking? Maybe the cold really is getting to you.

“Never said I was good at skating,” he says, still smiling at you. “Though I can’t say I feel like getting up and trying again after that.”

You scoff. “You’re giving up too easily. What’s the opposite of tenacious?”

“Cold.”

“That’s fair. I’m not even sure if I can feel my ass at this point.”

He laughs, and the deep sound seems to rumble in his chest, just like it had when you’d first heard it. But then he does the unexpected, and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in kind. “You work at the cafe right?”

“Yeah. It gets hot back there, I like doing something in the cold after a shift if I can.”

You nod. “I get it. I’m out here because a friend pissed me off and I needed to work through it.”

“Can’t kick their ass so you’re letting the ice kick your ass instead?”

Not even the heat of embarrassment can heat up your cold cheeks at this point. He’s read you like a book. You’re poking strangers, and he’s reading you like he probably reads his homework.

“Alright, it’s getting really fucking cold out here,” Seokjin suddenly says. He pulls himself towards the nearest sideboard and sits on top of it. “I’m calling it a night.”

You don’t expect his expectant look. “What?”

“You’ve been out here longer than me. Can you even feel your fingers at this point?”

“Um.” There’s some small part of you that doesn’t want this to end, but lying about it feels futile when you know he’s going to see right through it. “No.”

“I think it might be a good idea for you to head in too ...” he says, and then: “I could sneak back into the cafe for some hot water. Want to have some tea to warm up? Maybe you could talk about this friend who pissed you off.”

It’s late, if you’re being honest. You should probably go home and lick your wounds. But as you pull yourself up onto the sideboard with Seokjin, you decide that staying out might be worth it. Staying out in the first place is what got you on the ice. Staying out kept you here, which in turn meant you got to meet Seokjin. Staying out meant you got to talk and have this moment. It’s a relief to just be able to talk, rather than fight for someone’s attention.

What’s another few minutes?

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.6.2022

#bts fic #bts fanfic #kim seokjin fic #ksj x reader #ksj x female reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin x f reader #seokjin x female reader

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alittlebitgoofy · 9 months

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calm after the storm (marcia/spice)

i'm finally writing properly again, gay people with mental issues are so <3, and i cannot stop thinking about marcia they are very cute and wbk ilove spice so much, cheers to aubrey for giving me a fic title bc i lost my titling ways in the great war of 2023 (not posting for ages) they/them marcia, she/her spice, (luxx is there for like two seconds but they/she) ao3 link

Marcia’s head spun as they stood up to answer the soft knock at the door. Who was the poor soul about to interrupt their mental anguish?

Opening the door, Spice beamed back at them, her bright blue eyes such a contrast to Marcia’s sullen brown ones. Spice for all her friendliness was an absolute idiot to put it nicely, she cocked her head in confusion when Marcia didn’t say anything, just staring at her as she stood in the doorway.

“Uh, you okay?” Spice’s eyes darted around, taking in the withdrawn Marcia in front of her. Though they were quite a bit taller, they seemed to have shrunk, shoulders caved inwards as their head hung downwards, as if making eye contact with her was the worst possible thing to do at that moment. “Fine.” Short, cold. Two words that rarely describe the blonde’s tone. They were all but begging to be left alone, for Spice not to pry and go off somewhere and forget about the state she had seen them in. “You don’t look it.”

So much tact, Marcia bit back the snide remark, being rude wouldn’t help this. They just wanted to be alone. “Thanks.” It came out forced, their voice cracking slightly, shoulders hunching in more when Spice leant into their personal space to look more carefully. “Have you been crying?” “Luxx isn’t here, there’s no point hanging around.” Deflecting, Marcia shrugged, about to slink back to their bed before Spice spoke up again. “Don’t ignore me, have you been crying?”

They stayed silent, sitting back on their bed with the door still wide open. Spice took a step inside, closing it quietly behind her before slowly walking to hover by Marcia’s side. “Can I touch you?” They only nodded, chest tight just at the thought of having to verbalise anything. Spice sat down next to them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders and pulling them into a tight squeeze, her grip loosened after a second, though refused to leave. Marcia tensed up at the contact at first, though relaxed into it when Spice’s hand wandered to gently stroke their hair. “I know that look, that feeling. It hurts and you don’t wanna talk about it cause that makes it more real, right?” A muffled hum of agreement came out of the blonde, burrowing their way into Spice’s shoulder as she kept her grip on them.

“Sometimes i get like that after class, everyone always knows what they’re talking about and sometimes it feels like whenever i breathe everyone’s attention is on me cause i’m the dumb one.” Marcia hummed again, leaning their head into Spice’s hand as she continued to talk.

“It sucks but I get it, I promise I’m not like them.” “I thought you were only nice to me cause I'm friends with Luxx.” Marcia finally spoke, the tightness of their chest receding as Spice continued, like she was talking to an old friend and not a friend of a friend who she’d never been alone with. “No? You’re nice! Of course I'd be nice back. I can’t be mean to pretty- uh- well you’re not a girl are you? Are you just Marcia? I know that’s what Luxx says, she’s just Luxx. Or are you a girl but not a girl, some people are like that-” Spice’s rambles got interrupted by a quiet interjection from Marcia “You can call me a girl if it’s easier.” “But do you want that?” “....no.” It took a lot out of them to say that, mulling over what they really did want. Sure the word girl getting used for them made their insides crawl and twist into a knot but they didn’t want to be a bother. “So what would you rather?” “I guess a person? I’m just a person. Just Marcia.” “Okay, I could never be rude to a pretty Marcia”

“You’re silly.” Marcia muttered, finally moving to look at Spice, taking in the soft smile on her face, the way her expression seemed so genuinely caring, the way she continued to squeeze them at any sign of distress. “I try.” She giggled, Marcia realised they’d never spoken for this long before, they never made her laugh before. Luxx’s obsession with Spice was becoming a lot more understandable the longer they talked. “I think you’re pretty too. You’ve got a kind heart under all that silliness.” Spice’s face shifted, her eyes widening as her pale complexion gave way to turning a similar shade as Marcia when they spent too long in the sun. Her eyes darted down, smiling nervously in a way that made her ever cuter.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Marcia hesitated, though the comfort they felt when next to spice broke down that barrier, the anxiety of letting their innermost worries be known. “I just, I think i’m too much. Like when I correct people. I know how I look, that I don’t say much when people use the wrong words. Or that I talk too much and I’m annoying. Or why can’t I know what people mean all the time, why does every conversation leave this nagging feeling that I’ve done something wrong even when someone’s made it clear I haven’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, what did I do to feel like this?” Marcia blinked, letting all their feelings tumble out without a second thought before processing and instantly turning into a river of apologies. “You didn't ask for all that you were just being nice I’m sorry-” “Don’t be. I asked. I wanted to know.” “Okay, I’m s-” “No. No you’re not. No being sorry for being sorry.” Spice interrupted a second time, her tone pointed enough to be serious but not enough for Marcia to think they did something wrong. “Okay I’m not sorry?” They hesitated, snickering slightly at how it sounded. “Exactly! Now you’re getting it!” There was the gleeful grin she always wore, Spice’s hands finally moved from Marcia’s shoulders, one travelling to wrap around their waist while the other came to squeeze their hand.

“If anyone ever makes you feel like that, just remember you’re not the only one. You’re not broken, we’re just different.” “I wish we weren’t. I wish I could be normal.” “I do too sometimes, but other times I’m glad to be the way I am. Other people are so boring, where is their passion? Their creativity? Plus it makes you hotter to be a bit silly. “You know that well?” “Of course, I’m the silliest, hottest girl in the city.” “I wish I had your confidence.” “Truthfully I just fake it, I’m nowhere near as confident when Sugar isn’t around. She’s the smarter one, I’m just the silly one who makes people laugh.” “I don’t think so, I think you’re great in your own ways. You can recognise feelings in people without them saying anything.” “I guess so, I don’t know why we don’t talk more, you’re cool Marshie!” Any calmness in their body quickly vanished as another knock came at the door, their whole body tensing with a nervous tremble. Spice’s eyes narrowed, squeezing their hand before making her way to the door.

“It’s okay, I'll handle it.” Luxx stared back, raising an eyebrow at the nervous looking Marcia and Spice staring back at them.

“Should I come back later?” Spice glanced back to Marcia, shrugging as they looked confused, then overwhelmed as the chatter from the hall came through the open door.

“I’m gonna say yeah, I don't think they’re doing good enough for more companies right now.” “Fair, I’m gonna go bother Mistress, bitch stole my straightener and hasn’t given it back.” “Ooh, tell her I said hi.” Luxx left after that, leaving Spice to silently pull the door shut and lock it once more, scooping the nervous Marcia back into her arms and letting them cry it out. Muffled sobs soaked through her shirt, though Spice chose not to say anything, holding them gently while their body shook with another pained whimper. The tears slowed after a while, though their head never left its place burrowed against her shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m here. No one’s getting through me. I won’t let anyone see you like this. I promise.” “Thank you.” Marcia weakly mumbled, tightening their grip on Spice when her body shifted ever so slightly. As if any sudden movement could pull the one comfort they had in that moment away.

It didn't occur to either of them that this was the closest they had ever been, that some unknown tension had lifted the second Marcia opened up and Spice joined them. It was too much to think about in the moment, but Spice felt something change, her heart sunk at every cry the blonde let out and fluttered when they flashed a small smile whenever she’d try and lighten the mood with a bad pun.

“So, if I wanted to call you cute again, could I call you aww-cia?” “You’re so dumb.” “No, I’m Spice.”

Marcia rolled their eyes at that, though the fond smile on their lips dissolved any malice it could have had. Spice continued chattering every thought that came into her head to fill the silence, occasionally joined by the taller blonde though they preferred to sit and listen, feeling calmer the more she went on and on. Even if she jumped between topics every 30 seconds, there was something comforting about hearing Spice’s rambles.

“And then I asked if she was a porch or a bike person and-” Spice trailed off, curiously noting the lack of any real response from Marcia before she noticed their eyes having shut, still leant against her chest, their own body gently rising and falling with calm breaths.

Spice smiled to herself as she leant back to stretch out, allowing Marcia to stay in her arms as she did so. How did she never notice how cute they were before that day. Being close to them like this, she could get used to it.

#rpdr fanfiction #marcia marcia marcia #spicia #that's the ship name ig #spice/marcia #spice #callmespice

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

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Experimentation

This little rat bastard scientist has been living rent-free in my head ever since I saw “Re-Animator” for the first time a couple of months ago. Well...here goes nothing. Cross-posted to my AO3 here.

~*~

Herbert West (Re-Animator) x Reader

[A/N: I’ve never written for Herbert West before, so uh...here goes nothing. Also, did I write my dumb ass into a corner? Yes. Did @beyond-antares save my bacon by helping me come up with an ending? Also yes. This wouldn’t be finished if she hadn’t stepped in and assisted me, so give her a big round of applause and a BIG “Thank You.” She’s awesome!]

Warnings: None that I can think of. I mean, obviously Herbie’s a lil bit of a mad scientist, but I don’t describe any violence or gore in any graphic sort of way. So...other than that, just be aware of the content of Re-Animator, I guess?

~*~

“So...you and Herbert, huh?” Dan’s voice beside me made me jump. I hadn’t heard him come in. I was sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in my hand, staring at the ever-closed door of the basement. I’d been lost in thought solidly for...how long had I been here, exactly?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, daring to meet Dan’s gaze as I took a sip of my now ice-cold coffee. Oh god, I had been there a while, hadn’t I? I couldn’t help but wince at the cold bitterness, and the smirk that crossed Dan’s lips made it clear he’d seen my reaction.

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious. You’ve got a thing for him. Ever since he moved in, you haven’t gone on a single date. Hell, you light up when he looks your way, and everyone seems to notice, except Herbert, of course,” he said with a wink. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw the way you looked at him when you were patching him up after his last experiment. So...you gonna tell him soon? Or do I have to do it for you?”

“You wouldn’t dare, Cain,” I scoffed, but all my bravado dissolved when he started walking toward the basement door. In a panic, I grabbed his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Nononono! C’Mon, don’t do that!”

“If you don’t tell him, he’ll never pick up on it on his own,” Dan said with an amused laugh. He had stopped walking, though, and I considered that a temporary victory. “What’s the worst that could happen? Seriously, just tell him already.”

“Tell who?” At the sound of the question from the basement door, I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Herbert walked casually from the doorway toward the kitchen, his hunger finally driving him to seek sustenance, no doubt.

“Oh, I think our roommate has something to tell y–” I elbowed Dan in the stomach, shutting him up with a grunt. “Rude.”

“Shut it, Cain,” I muttered, and Herbert cleared his throat.

“If you have something to tell me, I’m all ears, though I won’t be for long. My experiments need me,” he said in his usual sanctimonious tone as he rooted around in the fridge. Dan gave me a little shove forward toward Herbert just as the latter turned around to fix me with a curious look. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Yes, I’m fine,” I stammered as I tried to hide how hastily I wanted to retreat. Herbert raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and I started to back away in such a manner that I didn’t look like I was running away. “I-I should get going.”

Ignoring Dan calling my name, I hurried out the front door to my car. Did I have a destination in mind or anything at all that really needed my presence? Nope. Was I leaving anyway? Yep. All I had to do was avoid my roommates for the next couple of days and hope they’d forget by the time I had to spend any significant amount of time talking to them.

By the time I got home that night, I knew Dan would be in bed and Herbert tucked neatly away in his lab with his experiments. When I walked inside, the last thing I expected to see was Herbert leaning back against the kitchen counter wearing the same expression he always wore when analyzing the results of one of his re-animation trials. Upon cursory inspection, nothing seemed broken or otherwise out of place, so the problem wasn’t with an experiment then...huh. But, what else could draw his attention so thoroughly?

“What did Dan mean earlier?” I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Herbert’s gaze turn to me. I could do no more than look at him in confusion.

“I-I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, and Herbert stood up straight and walked toward me.

“Before you left, Dan said you had something to tell me. What was he talking about?” There was no accusation in his tone, only the cold calculation with which he approached all of his research. Before I even realized what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around my middle in a subconsciously protective manner.

“You’d have to ask him about that–”

“I already have. He said it wasn’t his place to tell me...that it was yours.” Beneath his glasses, Herbert’s eyes skimmed the length of my face, his gaze most likely taking in more than I could imagine. “I have several hypotheses, but without more data, I can’t possibly hope to continue.”

Shit. Was he going to be studying my behavior now?

“And...what are the current hypotheses?” I asked curiously. Herbert wasn’t exactly socially aware, so I hoped that he hadn’t put things together on his own. He made a disapproving little noise with his tongue and gave me an inscrutable look.

“You know very well that I can’t tell you. That would taint the results...invalidate the experiment...” Herb murmured stopping barely a foot from me. “Where did you go when you left?”

“Irrelevant.” I tried to keep my tone and expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t know I’d been avoiding both of them all day. Besides, he said it himself: without more data he couldn’t continue. So I would just have to avoid giving him any more data. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. Before he could comment, however, I stepped around him and started making my way to my room. I paused when Herbert said my name, and I turned to face him from across the room.

“I was wondering if you could assist me in the lab tomorrow. I asked Daniel, but he insisted that you’d be better suited to the task.” Of course he did. I agreed without considering the wisdom of my answer, and Herbert gave me a small smile. “Very well. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

He returned to the basement, and with a deep breath, I went to my room. What the hell had I just agreed to?

A loud sound roused me from a deep sleep. When it came again, I realized it was somebody knocking rather insistently on my bedroom door. With a glance at the clock as I got up, I saw that it was four in the morning. I stumbled to the door and opened it blearily to see Herbert standing there.

“What’s wrong?” I could think of no other reason for him being there than some sort of emergency. After all, it was the middle of the night.

“Nothing is wrong. You agreed to help me in the lab,” he said as though I was being silly by asking a question with such an obvious answer.

“Herbert...Do you realize it’s four in the morning?” Instead of getting an answer, his eyes slid over the length of my body, making me acutely aware of the thin tank top and threadbare sleep shorts I’d gone to bed in.

“That would explain your state of dress, but it’s hardly an excuse for going back on your word,” Herbert said drawing an exhausted sigh from my lungs.

“Who said anything about going back on my word?” I asked turning to slip on a pair of shoes. If I’d been slightly more conscious, I’d have changed clothes altogether, but at the moment, all I could think of was how cold the basement floor would be if I went without shoes. “Do I need to take re-animation precautions? I don’t want to get blood on my clothes.”

“No, not today,” he answered, and I grabbed the spare lab coat that Herbert and Dan had given me when I first got involved in their crazy re-animation bullshit. At least it would keep me relatively warm while we worked. Within minutes, the two of us were elbows deep in a reformulation of the reagent. The original worked, sure, but Herbert wanted to see if there was any way to speed up the reaction so that re-animation would occur in a more timely fashion. After all, there was always room for improvement, especially after some of the more delayed reactions he’d observed in several specimens.

As Herbert used a drop of his previous reagent on a sample of dead tissue, he called out the re-animation time as a control. I wrote it diligently in the notebook he’d designated for that sort of thing, and my thoughts began to wander - as they so often did - to the scientist rather than his work. He was so stuck in his work all the time. Did he even realize how attractive he was?

“Are you listening?” Herbert’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as quickly as I’d gotten lost in them.

“Huh?” That was all I could manage as I blinked back to awareness and realized I’d been staring at him the whole time. Shit. Good job not being obvious about it.

“Have you heard a single word I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Uh oh, come up with something quick, self!

“I-I’m sorry, I was considering the problem of the...uh...reagent base and whether it would still be viable in the new formulation. I got lost in thought for a moment,” I answered trying to make it sound like I was telling the truth instead of covering up the real reason I was staring at him. Herbert was silent for a moment before his eyes narrowed and his head tilted like that of a curious puppy. Oh no.

“...Really? And what factors did you consider in your musings?” Herbert’s tone was reminiscent of that of a teacher who caught a student daydreaming during a lesson. I reflexively sat up a little straighter even as heat rose to my cheeks. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze as I stammered.

“Uh...W-Well, the...n-neutral ph of the current base works in its favor, b-but...for future mixes, w-we could...uh–” I broke off as Herbert’s thumb and forefinger tilted my chin up so I was forced to look in his eyes. when had he even walked to my side of the table?

“I hadn’t considered it to be a possibility, but...I believe I have an answer to my current hypothesis,” he murmured. Hypothesis? Oh. Oh no, not that one. “I need to test my theory before I can analyze the results...”

Before I could ask what he meant, his lips met mine. After spending a moment too stunned to even contemplate reciprocation, I melted against his lips. I couldn’t help but feel as though this might end disastrously, and yet...I’d imagined this so many times. Herbert’s hands came to rest on my hips even as mine took up residence on his chest, smoothing the crisp fabric of his white button-down as I’d imagined doing so many times. As quickly as it had begun, Herbert pulled back and took a breath that was even shakier than I felt.

“It would appear I was correct,” he mumbled sounding like a mere shell of the restrained, impassive man that he normally appeared to be. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Does it matter?” I wondered if this was the part where he’d call me a ‘bubble-headed co-ed’ or throw me out of his lab, but...that never came. Instead, his fingers slid up to my waist under my lab coat and tightened their grip.

“No, not really,” he mused as his eyes skimmed the length of my face as if in search of something. “You know...for a hypothesis to truly be supported, the results must be...repeatable...”

Licking my lips nervously, I took a chance hoping that I was reading him correctly.

“I’d be willing to participate in further experimentation...” I trailed off looking up into his eyes. It was a cheesy line, but the way he allowed a hint of a smirk to cross his lips before he leaned in to kiss me again told me all I needed to know about its effectiveness.

#herbert west #herbert west x reader #re-animator #deepspacedukat fic #am I actually gonna post this?#I did it I posted it oh god time to hide

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tokuteasings · 1 year

Text

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED: Rules and Intro~!

Greetings y’all~! After much thought and much inspo from @lunalove25 @toku-fanservice @imaginemaskedheroes and others, I have decided to make a dedicated blog meant to portray all of my writings about Tokusatsu~! Half of this is going to be me...screaming into the void but I’m happy to meet ya’ll!!

Call me Tale (she/they) and you can find me on ao3 at historynut19~!

Requests and Submissions are C L O S E D

Of course, I gotta list out some rules:

Kamen Rider Shows: Ryuki, Kabuto, Den-O, Kiva, Decade, W, OOO, Fourze, Wizard, Gaim, Drive, Ghost, Ex-Aid, Build, Zi-O, Zero-One, Saber, Revice, Geats, Amazons, Black Sun

Super Sentai Shows: Gaoranger, Hurricanger, Abaranger, Dekaranger, Magiranger, Boukenger, Gekiranger, Go-Onger, Shinkenger, Gokaiger, Zenkaiger, Kyoryuger, Donbrothers, ToQger, Kingohger, Kyuuranger

Other Toku Shows: Garo (The One Who Shines in the Darkness era specifically), Garo: Vanishing Line, Legend Hero, Tomica Hero: Rescue Force and Rescue Fire, Godzilla

Rules:

I won't take NSFW requests for younger characters who are under 18 and will keep them platonic or romantic depending on the situation. For the ToQgers especially, I will only take more platonic requests for them.

Poly relationships are a-okay! Actually I may write about some on my own volition lol.

Most of the time I'll keep the reader as gender-neutral. So if you want them to be a certain gender, lemme know~!

What I say isn't really law, but my own interpretations of the characters. You're more than welcome to interpret them however you wish!

I'm a simp, don't judge me.

If you wanna kiss any of the female characters, one-offs, villains, movie-only peeps, monsters, go for it! Lord knows I am attracted to like....60 different peeps in a single season.

I’ll post the stuff I write both here on tumblr and on ao3!! That being said, you are more than welcome to request in the comments on ao3 or in my tumblr asks which are preferred.

This work is mostly used for Reader x Character stuff so I won't take much ships between characters because I know everyone doesn't ship the same thing and like...you're free to ship whomever~! I'll write em if they strike my fancy on the day lol.

Please be patient!! I’m working two jobs and have other responsibilities. I also tend to burn out easily....so it’ll be here and there.

Please also be hella specific and detailed on what you ask me. I’m dumb as hell so ya gotta lay it out for me whether you want like generic headcanons or romantic ones!

I’ll list out warnings in the front of everything I write, and if something bothers you or if I forget to list something, please tell me! On that note, I don’t mind yandere kinda stuff but like it’s going to be....very.....very sparse and will be labeled accordingly.

You’re more than welcome to interact with me! I’m so fucking lonely out here in the void...please come talk to me :’)))

So, shall I spin you a tale, my dear?

TO DO LIST: IN NO ORDER AT ALL (listen lord knows whatever the hell Imma write)

Shinkengers Kiss Headcanons

Momotaros, Urataros, Kintaros, Ryutaros - Dating Headcanons

Angst Headcanons Ushijima Hikaru

Protective Headcanons - Zack

Bath Time: Sononi x Male Reader x Kitoh Haruka

Kuroto Dan Kiss Headcanons

NSFW Headcanons - Hino Eiji

NSFW Headcanons - Hiden Aruto

Satarakura x Plant manipulating reader

Houji Tomasu x sassy reader

Gentaro’s friend x Lucky (Kyuranger) Headcanons

Fluffy Fukamiya Kento fic

NSFW Kadota Hiromi Headcanons

NSFW Momotani Jiro headcanons

Dating Headcanons: Sudo Masashi, Shibaura Jun, and Sano Mitsuru

Roomates with Nitoh Kousuke

Dating Headcanons: Kurenai Wataru, Igarashi Ikki, Sakurai Keiwa

Sleepyhead S/O x Sudo Masashi Headcanons

Dating Headcanons: Lucky x Reader

Dating Headcanons: Spada x Reader

BFFs with Sakuma Kotaro

NSFW Tomari Shinnosuke Headcanons

Traveling to different worlds with Tsukasa, Headcanons

Rook with S/O that can turn invisible

Whatever the hell my brain can come up with lol

QUEUE:

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

DRAFTS:

S.O.S Series - MetsuBouJinRai x Reader

Some sorta fluffy Neon fic bc fuck the JGP

More Kingohger bs bc I love myself

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db-gochifan · 8 months

Text

Dragon Ball Ships Week 2023 (2) - Day 3: Games/Activities

Days: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Title: Spin The Bottle Pairing: Marron/Trunks; Bulla/Goten Characters: Bulla Briefs, Trunks Briefs, Son Goten, Pan and Marron Summary: Trunks and Bulla are hosting a party at CC for their friends. Warning: Swearing words/inappropriate language Do not repost, claim to be your own work or use it without perrmission. Cross-posted on AO3

Trunks Briefs walked down the hall at Capsule Corporation in a very casual way. It would be a familiar sight, had it not been the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he had a towel wrapped on his neck.

“Geez, sometimes you behave like a teenager.” Bulla, his twenty-year old sister, scolded him for his lack of good manners. “You better not greet our guests like this.”

“Must you always be so annoying?” He said with annoyance and rolled his eyes at her. “Of course I’m not.”

“Good. You don’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Marron.”

“Please, I don’t make a fool out of myself in front of her or anyone for that matter.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She went back to her room to get ready for the party.

“You’re the one to talk.” He wasn’t about to let it go like that.

“Excuse me?” Bulla came back to the hall. “I don’t think I understand what you’re implying.”

“You say I make a fool out of myself in front of Marron and that may be true, but you’re not any different than me.”

“You’re out of your mind, Trunks.”

“I’ve seen the way you act around Goten. You’re so in love with him.”

“What have you been drinking?!”

“I haven’t been drinking anything yet. And don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Fine, so maybe I have a crush on Goten.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And your point is…?”

“I have a proposal to make.”

“A proposal?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“We’ll confess to them tonight.”

“Okay, smart ass. How are we going to do that?”

“You can leave that to me. I have the perfect plan.”

And just like that, he left for his own bedroom.

****

Bulla was fixing one of the pillows in the living room when the doorbell rang. She looked up, but didn’t move. Her heart was pounding really hard on her chest for her to move. Luckily for her, Trunks came running from the kitchen to answer it.

“It must be Goten.”

And indeed it was. Bulla could recognize his voice anywhere, and her heart started beating even faster.

“You made it!” Trunks’ voice echoed all over the living room, in the usual cheerful way he speaks whenever his best friend is around.

“Like I would miss this party.”

“This party or the chance to see someone?” He nudged Goten in the ribs and winked at him.

“I… I have no idea what you are talking about.” The brunette replied, though he was fully aware his blushing cheeks gave him away.

“I can’t tell which one is the worst, you or Bulla. It’s clear as it can be that you have feelings for each other.”

“Okay, that’s not…” Goten immediately stopped talking and his eyes went wide when he spotted Bulla in the living room, staring right back at him. The look on her face told him she had heard everything, and he was... well, screwed. “Bulla, that’s not…”

But she walked past him without saying a word and not bothering to look at him. The half-Saiyan dropped his head in frustration. He had some big making up to do later that night.

“Sucks to be you.” Trunks didn’t let the opportunity to tease his best friend pass, so he patted him on the shoulder.

“Fuck you.”

“Well, well. Who would’ve thought Kakarot’s son knew how to swear.” A very familiar husky echoed behind the two hybrids, and Goten shivered for a moment. “V-Vegeta.”

“Maybe I should tell him about it.”

“He probably won’t have a clue what it means.”

“Ugh, you…”

“Let’s go, Goten.” Trunks pushed him towards the yard before things got uglier. “Don’t mind my dad, he doesn’t know when to stop sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Goten looked at him, who rolled his eyes.

“Fine, most of the time.” The lavender-haired Saiyan started laughing and was immediately joined by his best friend.

****

About half an hour later, Marron and Pan had already arrived and they were ready to start partying. Bulla was making her way to the kitchen to grab some drinks for her best friends, and bumped into Trunks and Goten doing the same.

“Oh, sorry.” She stopped almost immediately when she spotted them. “I can come back soon.”

“That’s okay, Bulla.” Trunks said. “We were just leaving, right, Goten?”

“Uh…” The brunette half-Saiyan looked from his best friend to his love interest. “Actually, I…”

“I’m just here to grab a few energy drinks. I should be quick.” She refused to make eye contact with Goten, but seemed shaken when he grabbed her elbow. That only lasted a couple of seconds, cause he immediately let go of her when he saw the death glare in her eyes. And she left as fast as she came in.

“Don’t worry about it.” The lavender-haired man put his hand on Goten’s shoulder in a reassuring way. “She’s just angry, but she will come around eventually. She has a lot from our father.”

“She really does.” Goten looked around, to make sure she wasn’t anywhere near enough to hear them.

“She’ll be talking to you again within time, trust me.”

“Why are you saying this?” He raised his eyebrow. “You’re up to something.”

“I’m not up to anything.”

“Of course you are. I’ve known you since we were babies. You can fool yourself all you want, but you can’t fool me.”

“Let’s just go.” Trunks talked it off. “The girls are probably waiting for us to start partying.”

****

“We are playing spin the bottle.” Bulla announced as she put an empty bottle in the center of the circle.

“Really, Bulla?” Pan complained with a frown. “That’s such a fifth-grade game. Don’t you think, Marron?”

“I… I…” The blonde was taken by surprise. “I guess.”

“Pan, stop making her uncomfortable. It’s annoying.”

“Defending your girlfriend, that’s so cute!”

“Stop it, Panny.”

“Ah come on, uncle Goten. I hate it when you call me that.”

“I know.”

“So should we start?” Bulla ignored the uncle and nephew friendly bickering.

“Who wants to be the first?” Bulla asked, looking at all four faces.

“I think you should start it.” Marron replied after drinking a sip of her drink. “You had the idea.”

“Alright.” She leaned forward and spun the bottle, that stopped in front of Trunks.

“Truth or dare, sister?”

“Truth.”

“Okay. Is it true that you are in love with Goten?”

There was a complete silence in the living room, and both Pan and Marron looked at the blue haired woman. Goten was blushing as heavily as her and looked away.

“What kind of question is this, Trunks?”

“You said truth. So…?”

“I… I…” Bulla absolutely hated feeling ambushed, so she tried to think of a way out as fast as she could. “I want dare.”

“What the hell, Bulla?” Pan protested loudly. “You can’t switch like that.”

“There was no rule on that.” She argued back. “So I want dare.”

“Fine.” Trunks replied, rolling his eyes and a smirk appeared on his lips. “I dare you to kiss Goten. In front of everyone here.”

“What the hell, dude?”

“Eww, gross!” The brunette woman looked like she was about to throw up. “I do not want to see my uncle kissing one of my best friends.”

“I’m not kissing anyone.”

“You have to, it’s in the rules of the game you wanted to play.”

“Ugh!” Bulla shot a death glare at her brother. She had no option but to do this. So she stood on her knees and looked at Goten. “We might as well just get over with it.”

Pan closed her eyes and covered them with her hands when the blue haired woman started crawling towards her uncle. She stopped in front of him and looked right into his dark eyes. He found it the perfect opportunity to work things out with her – or at least, begin to. Goten held her chin in her hands and looked back at her before leaning towards her and pressing his lips against hers.

It was only meant to be a brief kiss, and Pan started hearing her friends complaining about it taking too long. She peeked through her fingers and was glad and relieved they had already pulled away from each other.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” She stood up and went to sit on the couch.

“Ah, come on, Pan. We’ve just begun.”

“But if we ask questions or choose dares about kissing or confessing, there’s no point in me playing.”

“She has a point.” Marron stood up as well, joining her. “I don’t want to play it like this too.”

“I’m sorry.” Bulla said genuinely. “I didn’t realize it wouldn’t be cool for you.”

“That’s okay, Bulla.” She smiled kindly at her. “We know you meant well.”

“Thanks, Marron.”

****

The wind gently disheveled Marron’s blond hair when she walked into the balcony at Capsule Corp. The weather was really nice that night, and she leaned over to look at the scenario below her. She was so focused on it that barely seemed to register the door opening behind her.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” Trunks said apologetically when he walked in too. “If you want to be alone, I can come back another time.”

“That’s fine.” She replied as she turned around to look at him. “This balcony is large enough for both of us. I don’t mind it. Are you drinking in secret now? Will your parents get angry at you if they catch you drinking?”

“Not quite.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “But I did want to drink in peace. I would’ve brought you one if I knew you were here.”

“That’s fine.” She gave him a soft smile. “I’ve had enough drinking for one night.”

“Right.” Trunks walked to her. “Would you mind if I…”

“Absolutely not. Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” He sat down and drank a long sip from the bottle. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to play our game earlier.”

“That’s fine.” Marron assured him. “Spin the bottle isn’t my favorite game to play anyway. Can I…?”

“Huh?” He glanced down at the bottle he was holding and handed it to her. “I didn’t know you drank.”

“I don’t do it very often. Only when I feel overwhelmed or I’ve had enough. Or when I want to be brave.”

“Brave?” Trunks raised his eyebrow at her. “Marron, you’re one of the bravest women I know.”

“You really think so?” She turned to look at him after putting the bottle beside her. She held her chin in her hands and looked into his eyes, just as blue as hers.

“I know so.” He didn’t know how he managed to say, with her proximity and his heart beating faster because of that.

Everything happened so fast he barely had time to process. All he knew was that her lips were pressed against his and her hand slid to the back of his neck, after wrapping his arm around her waist. It didn’t take him long to tighten it around her and bring her close to him. Marron slightly parted her lips and let her tongue slid inside his mouth, momentarily catching him by surprise. But being skilled as he is sometimes, he quickly turned things around and their kiss grew hotter and more urgent.

****

Bulla had a large grin on her face. She had been hiding behind a wall and watched the whole scene in the balcony happening. She wanted to scream, but didn’t want anyone to know she was there.

“Spying on your brother, princess?” Goten’s voice echoed in her ears, causing her to shiver and blush before she turned to face him.

“No. Who do you think I am? I’m not Trunks’ babysitter.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Shut up!”

“How long have they been there?”

“Who knows? They were already sitting there when I came. I wanted to go outside, but they started making out and ruined my plan.”

“Can’t say I don’t feel jealous of them.”

Bulla felt her face become red again and began to walk away, but the half-Saiyan man was faster and grabbed her wrist.

“What are you doing?” She looked from his hand wrapped around her wrist to his black eyes.

“I want to talk to you.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Will you please let me explain myself to you and apologize?”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and started tapping with annoyance; her blue eyes locked in his. “You have a minute.”

“What?” He was caught by surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Fifty seconds.”

“Bulla, w-… Okay.” He shook his head and started talking. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Uh… I didn’t mean to say that. Obviously I feel something about you, but I just…”

“You just what?” She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

“Please forgive me.”

“Your time is up.” Her tone was as hurtful as it could be. “See you around, Goten.”

“Dare.”

“What?” Bulla turned around and once again stared into his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I chose dare. Come on, give me a dare.”

“Goten, we’re not playing it anymore.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just give it myself then.” He gave a few steps towards her; his heart beating faster by each step he took. Or maybe it was hers, he couldn’t tell. “I dare myself to…”

“You know, you can’t give yourself a dare.” She spoke after she realized what he was doing. “It’s against the rules.”

“We’re not playing the real spin the bottle game, so I can make up any rule I want.”

“That’s fair.”

“So you want to give me a dare?”

“Uh… sure. I dare you to kiss me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Isn’t it what you wanted me to dare you to do?”

“It was.”

“So I don’t understand the big deal. Are you going to kiss me or what?”

“Right.”

Goten began walking towards her again, but she surprised him by jumping on his arms and wrapping hers around his neck. He held her closer to him after he recovered from his shock and their kiss became deeper and more passionate.

“I take it means you’ve forgiven me.” He said after they pulled away from each other.

“That’s right.” She let their foreheads touch; her arms still around his neck.

“Thought so.”

#Dragon Ball #DB #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Trunks Briefs #Bulla Briefs #Son Goten #Pan #Marron #TruMar #BraTen #BroTen #DBShipsWeek #DBShipsWeek2023

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sprigsofviolets · 1 day

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @14carrotghoul for tagging me. Sorry I’m doing this days after everyone else. I’m a procrastinator.

1. How many works do you have on ao3? Only 12 so far.

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 412,770

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly rwrb, but also the Raven Cycle, Heartstopper, and once 9-1-1 LS. I really write in any fandom I have an idea for.

4. Top five fics by kudos:

One Wild and Precious Life (I don’t know why people like this one, I honestly find it painful to reread and I’ve thought about going back to make major edits)

Things I Cannot Accept

Most People Exist

Scar Tissue

In Any Universe

5. Do you respond to comments? I swear I try to. But my inbox currently has 434 unread so I am obviously failing hard.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? An unhappy ending? In this economy? Maybe Most People Exist. That whole fic was kind of about death and how the inevitability of death affects life and the ending was a little pretentiously open ended.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I try to make them all happy, but I think The Soul of David. It’s probably my angstiest fic and I definitely made some people sad in the comments but it all turned out okay.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. My comments are pretty overwhelmingly positive, though there are some comments that bother me where I think people believe they’re being helpful, but I just find them annoying.

9. Do you write smut? No.

10. Craziest crossover. I only have one but it is a little weird, in the sense that I mashed together two universes that in no way belong together. Someone Worth Knowing. RWRB/Raven Cycle.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No? Is that a thing people do? What is the payoff?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone commented on Scar Tissue asking if they could translate the fic into Korean. I said they could but I never actually checked to see if they did.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and I’m not sure if I ever would. I had to do a creative writing assignment with my best friend in high school and it almost crumbled our 13 year friendship. I would love to beta for someone though, but I’m kind of a loner in all the fandoms I participate in (probably because I barely participate. Sorry.)

14. All time favorite ship? Listen, do not judge me. I’ve shipped a lot people and I have had many hyperfixations in my life, and I love all of them, but I was in the trenches shipping Destiel in 2014, and I still stand by it. Those bitches were in love.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Ugh. I only work on one story at a time and I don’t start posting until I’ve finished. And I have been working on a story for months and I only have five chapters left. But I’m going to finish it. I don’t care if I’m eighty, I’m fucking finishing it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Oof idk. I think my stories have pretty good pacing. Which I know sounds dumb but some of the best fics I’ve ever read I didn’t read to the end. It’s something I really pay attention to and I think I’m good at determining when a story should begin and end.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I think my stories tend to lag in the middle and can sometimes be a little repetitive. I also feel like my dialogue can come off a little weird and stilted sometimes, though I try very hard to avoid that. I also suck at spotting typos.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I am stubbornly monolingual, so I do it sparingly, but I admire those who can do it well.

19. First fandom you wrote in? The Raven Cycle. Not very interesting, but I didn’t start writing until I was 21.

20. Favorite fic you've written? Not a surprising answer, but Things I Cannot Accept. As soon as I started reading rwrb fics I wanted to read an abdication fic and I read a lot of great ones but I just wasn’t satisfied I guess. They didn’t go exactly how I imagined, so I wrote one myself (and used it as an opportunity to address the political issues I have with the book, something I wish could have been improved and expanded upon in an on-screen adaptation, but I can never get what I want I guess).

#fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #fic writing

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heytherejulietx · 2 years

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as a writer, i've found that people are more likely to reblog if you don't mention it constantly and instead tell them only once in an encouraging way like 'i'd love to hear your thoughts' or something. if the lack of engagement is really bothering you, i think it helps to only write what you want to read! i've found that it helps a lot when i write for myself because i know i'll be proud of it even if the engagement isn't great :)

i don’t know, i think no matter what content interaction on this site sucks

i’ve only been writing on this app since september 2020, and i was writing for a fandom that’s basically the same in numbers as stranger things. and interaction sucked in 2020, but even just two years going past has changed a lot and the interaction is even worse. i cant for the life of me remember the post i read (it might have been @ao3commentoftheday but im not entirely sure, either way they have a GREAT take on this and i suggest reading their posts) but content nowadays is tailored so that people have to use as minimal effort as possible. the tiktok algorithm gives you videos based on what you watch, so you only have to like, and tiktok is arguably the biggest social media site at the moment. and all of the new people joining tumblr from tiktok are going to use the same rules. interaction is shit on tumblr and even worse on ao3 where there is no algorithm, but people treat it like it is.

i’m really glad that you write for yourself and enjoy writing what you’d like to read — i promise i’m not trying to tell you that you can’t or that it’s bad. if i’m being honest i’d love to settle with that. but everybody loves hearing good things about what they’ve done. engagement isn’t about popularity or however many followers you have, it’s about appreciation for the work that content creators spend their own time making for free (not including commissioned work, though that isn’t to say they shouldn’t receive good feedback too). and when you receive a compliment on your work, you’re more likely to make more because you know people enjoy it.

i’ve done many requests that didn’t get feedback from the requester. i’ve made fanfiction based on other people’s fanart and never heard back from them about it, even though they are also a content creator. and as much as i’d love to sit here and not care about the interaction, it’s disheartening when you put hours and hours into writing that people won’t even reblog or say anything about, but they’ll reblog from creators that already have a big following because they’re popular, but that’s a whole other thing i won’t get into.

i think it’s great that recently i’ve seen so many writers talking about the shit interaction because it gets people noticing. for example, if i hadn’t spoken about it then you wouldn’t have sent me this ask. tons of people are currently joining from tiktok and twitter, and they won’t understand how tumblr works unless people tell them. maybe this whole post is just a dumb ramble but i think it’s important that people know why reblogging / commenting is so important. and if they do nothing about it after they’ve read about it then it’s on them.

this is no hate to you btw nonnie, it’s just something that really annoys me as a content creator.

sending love :)

#amber’s asks #writeblr #content creation #lack of engagement #content interaction #important

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landograndprix · 10 months

Note

Hey! Just wanted to throw my opinion in about the OC discussion. I wanted to preface this by saying that this opinion has been formed over a number of different fandoms, sites and years and that will be my reference. I’ve never minded having an OC, and honestly prefer that over Y/N. I think it has a lot to do with the fic platform and era that people started reading fics. I’m 25 so I feel that’s a little older than most others in the F1 fandom, but young for fandoms such as HP or the like. My 1st fandoms were HP and Twilight and that was predominantly hosted on fanfiction.net and AO3; way back in of dark ages of ‘07 or ‘08 before the the porn purges so needless to say I was reading well above the maturity level I should have been (got to love that unsupervised internet access). Neither of these have ever been heavy in the reader-inserts-there was even a push on both platforms early on to delete/report stories that were posted using this format. I’ve even had discussions w/ mutuals that I ended giving Y/N a name that I felt fit their personality instead of using my own. And was surprised that there were many in agreement with me. I don’t think reader inserts really b/c main stream. Personally, it feels like people become frustrated when something is tag or portrayed as a reader insert and then falls through; i.e. when they talk about hair length/skin tone or they give the character TOO much personality. Reader inserts really had a uptick when Wattpad became Mainstream in 2011-almost 7 years after it went live; which I feel fits the majority age of the general audience/writers in the F1 community. The most popular way that I’ve seen authors get away with having a reader insert without making them an OC is by giving them a a nickname that’s not related to an actual name; i.e Pip or Snoopy.

That was all to say; I would completely support an OC work. I think you’re a wonderfully talented author; and your work will do well no matter what format you take. And look forward to seeing what you come up with.

-🩰

First off all I want to apologise to the people that follow me and have to see me complain about dumb things, these posts are posted during the evening and evening me is so much more dramatic than normal me. Like normal me is always so embarrassed to read back my stuff and see people react to it 😭 that being said, thank you for this message! We're in the same age range so I agree with all of the things you've said! It was just me being conflicted over things that shouldn't bother one so much, there's so many people on this site that actually use OC reader 😅

#y'all im sorry for the person i am after 8pm 😭

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thatfanficstuff · 2 years

Text

Not About You - 23

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x OFC

Warnings: nope

A/N: I literally almost didn’t post this here. Not really seeing the point since I’m getting like 20 notes per part. If you’re super into this story you might want to follow me on wattpad or AO3 just in case.

Lucy spent the night tossing and turning. She knew that nap was going to bite her in the ass. Awake far earlier than she liked, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She pulled on a pair of pajama pants with the t-shirt she’d worn to bed. Only copious amounts of caffeine were going to get her through the day. Coffee. She needed lots and lots of coffee.

She opened her door only to jump back and yelp as something fell with a thud. Her hands were clamped over her mouth and she stared at Damon with wide eyes as he laid on the floor at her feet.

He scowled as he opened one eye to glare at her. “Ow.”

“What are you doing, Salvatore?” she finally managed to ask.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a smirk. “You didn’t want to sleep with me and I wasn’t about to leave you unprotected with Katherine running around.”

She couldn’t stop the soft smile that curved her lips. “You didn’t have to sleep in the hallway, stupid vampire. That was unnecessary. I would have been fine.”

After getting to his feet, he grabbed the blanket and pillow he’d been using from the floor. “Agree to disagree, kitten.” He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. “Now, get dressed. I’ll make breakfast and we’ll have an overdue conversation.”

Her eyes searched his but saw no hint as to what was in store. Finally, she nodded. “As long as that breakfast includes caffeine.”

He laughed and sauntered down the hall to his room. “Get a move on, Williams.”

Lucy managed to swallow down two cups of coffee and three bites of pancakes before her phone rang. She answered on speaker so she could keep eating. “Hey, Stef, what’s up?”

“Caroline is in transition.”

Her chest went tight as pure sorrow swamped her and her fork slid from her fingers. She wasn’t bothered her friend was a vampire as much as the fact she hadn’t had a choice in the timing.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s in transition, Stefan?” Damon snapped. He moved to the table and rested his hand on the back of Lucy’s neck in a comforting gesture. “She was fine yesterday. She’s in the hospital for fuck’s sake. How could she possibly have died between then and now?”

“She caught a glimpse of ‘Elena’ right before the bitch broke her neck.” Stefan was pissed of course, but truth be told he sounded just a little heartbroken as well.

“How did Katherine know she’d had my blood?” Damon asked with a frown. “Only the three of us knew and it’s not like we went around announcing it.”

Stefan sighed. “I don’t think she did.”

Lucy blinked as she processed the fact that the only reason her best friend was alive was because of dumb luck. Katherine Pierce was officially on her shit list.

“Lucy,” Stefan said catching her attention. “Don’t come up here. I’m going to compel us out of here once it gets dark. I’ll bring her home with me. You can see her there in a more controlled environment. Damon, could you come? She’s understandably freaking out. It would do her good to talk to someone besides her boyfriend about all this I think.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit.” He left the room to get ready to go.

“Hey, Stef, you should know that while this is a shock, Caroline and I had already talked about her changing,” Lucy said.

“You have?”

She smiled though he couldn’t see it. “It’s one of those topics that comes up when you date vampires. You either think about changing or face the fact that the relationship won’t last. She was more than willing to change. She’d just intended to wait a few years. So don’t let this destroy you. And for gods’ sake, don’t distance yourself for her own good, Salvatore.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Stefan’s tone was lighter, less tense.

“Good. Tell my girl I love her and I’ll see her soon.” Lucy ended the call and looked up to see Damon in the doorway watching with a smile.

“You’re good people, Lucy Williams,” he said. He walked over and gave her a kiss when she tilted her head back.

She grinned against his lips. “So I’ve been told.”

He stepped away with a sigh. “I’ll be back. Keep your phone and one of your guns on you today, please. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

She nodded and he gave her one more kiss on the top of her head before he disappeared. Once she’d heard the door shut Lucy sat up her phone to facetime Elijah. She needed another favor and they needed to have a conversation about both doppelgangers. Lucy’s patience was gone.

He answered almost immediately. He looked pleased to see her but tired. “Hello, little one. It is good to talk to you.”

“You look exhausted, ‘lijah.”

He lifted his brows in acknowledgment and nodded his head. “I’m overdue to get some sleep but I was taking care of a pressing matter. How are you?”

Sadness suddenly swamped her as the last few days caught up with her. She pressed her lips together as she tried to regain her composure. A tear slipped from her eye before she could stop it and she hastily wiped it away.

“What happened? Are you alright?” His voice was sharp, worried. Lucy didn’t cry often so he always panicked when she did.

She took a deep breath. “You remember my friend Caroline?”

His brow furrowed. “The excitable blonde, yes?”

“That’s her,” she said as she smiled softly at the description. “She was in a car accident the other day and would have died if Damon didn’t give her his blood. She was killed in the hospital last night and is in transition.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Katherine’s the one that killed her.”

Elijah shifted so he sat straighter and his jaw went tight. “Katherine Pierce is in Mystic Falls? Do you know this for certain?”

Lucy made a sound of agreement. “Seen her, been threatened, got the t-shirt.”

His gaze narrowed as he ran it over the part of Lucy he could see. “She threatened you?”

She shrugged. “She’s very possessive of the Salvatores.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth and pursed his lips. “I can’t come there. Not right now. If you encounter her again use her true name. She was born Katerina Petrova. It’s a name she hasn’t used since she first ran from us. Infer you are connected to my family. If necessary, call me and I’ll talk to her. Try not to spook her off if you can. I’d hate for her to disappear before I can have a conversation with her in person.”

“Speaking of Katherine, the boys had always told me that Elena looked like her. I didn’t realize they were literal mirror images. Doppelgangers. I am assuming Katherine running off and becoming a vamp is why you want us to watch the human one. Why? What do you need her for?”

A smile curved his lips and he gave a little shake of his head. “I sometimes forget how intelligent you are. What I am about to tell you can be repeated to no one, including your Salvatores. Understood?”

“Of course.”

“The doppelganger is needed to end a curse involving my brother. As I have been unable to locate him on my own, I intend to draw him out using her as bait. He will be weak during the ritual and I will be able to kill him then. If something happens to her, I will lose my chance,” he explained.

There were still a lot of questions but Lucy knew he’d already shared more than he’d intended. “Why do you want to kill him?”

He sighed. “Niklaus effectively killed the rest of our siblings.”

Her eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

His gaze softened. “You were still a child at the time, little one. Besides, my family dynamics are a bit odd to put it mildly. There is much that would need to be explained for you to understand it all even now.”

“So explain.”

“Maybe someday,” he said with a laugh. “Just keep Elena Gilbert safe until I need her and call me if I need to take a more hands on approach with her ancestor.”

Lucy nodded. “Okay. Could you please send me a daylight ring for Caroline? Make it something pretty.”

“It will be there by the end of the day.”

“Thank you. Love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he responded before disconnecting the call.

Damon returned home early afternoon and found Lucy curled up on the couch reading a book with one of her guns laying on the table beside her. “Hey, Babe,” he said as he walked into the room.

She smiled and laid the book on the cushion beside her. “How is she?”

He shrugged as he poured himself a drink. “Confused. Upset. She’ll probably be moving in here. You know, since her mom’s a vampire killing sheriff.”

Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose as she wondered how they were going to get away with moving a teenager in with her boyfriend. It wouldn’t help keep them under the radar that was for sure. “I suppose it’s not as if Liz will notice.”

“Hey, now.” Damon liked the sheriff, but Lucy’s loyalties laid with Caroline. She shrugged. It wasn’t worth having an argument over. He studied her for a moment. “We should go to the Halloween carnival tonight.”

“Why?”

He leaned forward on the chair in front of him. “I want to know what’s going on with the Lockwoods. The device affected them but vervain doesn’t so they aren’t vampires. I stopped by Carol’s on they way home and overheard a conversation. I don’t think that Tyler kid knows what he is but I think that uncle of his does.”

“And let me guess, you won’t let it go until you know as well?”

He simply gave her a smile and a tilt of his head before sipping his drink.

She shook her head. “Fine we’ll go to the carnival. You have to buy me cotton candy though.”

“Deal.”

She stood to go upstairs and get ready and Damon sped in front of her to stop her. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To take a shower and change my clothes. Is there a problem, Salvatore?”

“Just a moment,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “I’m about to do something incredibly selfish but I’ve already gone too long without doing it. I am 100% madly in love with you, Lucy Williams. I don’t deserve you and probably never will. If I was a better man, I’d let you go, but I’m not.”

Her breath caught. She’d hoped he was as crazy about her as she was him but she honestly never thought he’d admit to it. It just wasn’t who he was. She knew he cared but that was completely different than being in love with her. She grinned and leaned into him. Pressing her lips to his, she sighed in contentment. The kiss was soft at first then they were feeding at each other’s lips like they were starving for it. She pulled back and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t want you to let go of me, Damon. I’m yours forever if you’ll have me.”

It only took a second for the brightest, most beautiful smile she’d ever seen to cross his face. He gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll hold you to that, baby.”

#damon salvatore x ofc #damon salvatore fanfiction #vampire diaries fanfiction #series: not about you

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queerplatonicsolid · 9 months

Text

AO3 stats game

thanks to @fiercynn for tagging me!

rules: give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and least words.

most hits: Drowned Out | honestly i do like this one and i’m really glad i wrote it, it’s not my fave work but it’s up there. Also i’m glad it wasn’t the RWBY accidentally fucking your boss before your first day at work oneshot that i couldn’t bother thinking a title of, and also the zukki pwp that’s like. fine? kinda forgettable imo

most kudos: also Drowned Out

most comments (originally was “most comment threads” but idk what that is): Why you don't fuck your boss | I’m SORRY for the title i was drunk this had been sitting in my gdocs for like 1.5 years bc i fell out with the person i had gifted it for i just wanted it OUT jfc whiterose shippers why

most bookmarks: also Drowned Out

most words: Madness of the Maenads | I’M SO SORRY 0% would recommend okay so here’s the thing, my intent on writing this was to explore how tempting bad coping mechanisms could be, and how traumatized teenagers do really dumb shit thinking it’s freeing but they’re ignoring human connection which is how you actually heal. HOWEVER since i never finished it, it kinda just. stops at the glorification part and is just a pretty unhealthy text floating there as it is. So. don’t read it.

also s/o to my 320,000 (yes i did that on purpose, it also had 64 chapters) Kingdom Hearts fic on ff.net that is absolutely atrocious and (i think?) the first fic i started writing? Unless we’re counting writing things on now defunct forums.

least words: PSA for a post apocalyptic world | ok i’m glad i finally get an atla fic on here! Not too much to say about this one, I like it and am glad it’s out there but is also not one of my faves.

i'll go ahead and tag @whenyourfavouritedies ! optional of course :)

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ceilingfan5 · 2 years

Text

[id: taako, an elf with dyed pink hair that is growing out, in a bathtub filled with dyed blue water and bubbles. The bubbles cover most of him. His expression is sour.]

Read on ao3 if you prefer!

Why don’t you take a bath and maybe you’ll feel better, Lup had texted him, and Taako knew, logically, that she meant it with all the goodness and care for him in her big dumb heart, but Taako was in a nightmare mood, so he read it dripping, just oozing with bitchiness, and maybe he was going to take a bath, but he wasn’t about to enjoy it.

Spite bath. For mean stupid assholes who can’t have what they want because they don’t deserve it and throw big idiot baby tantrums because their feelings got hurt that somebody posted date pics online with his hot new perfect dentist boyfriend who makes lots of money and can regulate his own fucking emotions and maybe even can keep a cactus alive for more than a month. Allegedly.

Taako sinks deeper into the water. It’s a pretty shade of blue, but other than that, his bath bomb was a total waste of money, and he’s mad about it, and doesn’t smell like anything, and the bubble bath he had left wasn’t enough to foam up the whole bath, and he needs to redye his hair, and he forgot to bring a snack, because he plans to fully dissolve until he’s Taako soup, and he’s mad about it. He’s lonely and snackless and broke and his cactus is dead and his sister is miles and miles away and his heart hurts. But now he’s also soaking wet. So, thanks for that, Lup.

He swipes the plastic bag he put his phone in off of the toilet lid and unlocks it, you know, after 4 failed tries, and, fuck him mighty, the picture is still there. They’re smiling and holding hands at an early dinner, and the post mentions in that elegant way he talks for an audience that they’re going to a show, a concerto in the butterfly gardens, and Taako nearly throws his phone. He’s not that fancy. He doesn’t even know how much a concerto in the butterfly gardens would cost. Maybe he could afford a commercial jingle in a compost pile. Worms can probably jam.

He tips his head back and groans. Don’t wait up for me, Kravitz had said. I don’t know how late I’ll be back, and you don’t have to worry about me. You know, casual things roommates say to each other? It’s getting on…late, or something, and yeah, maybe Taako was hoping to hear from him, you know, make sure David wasn’t like, a vampire and sucked his soul out or something (fuck, he really can’t compete with a vampire). Maybe hear about how great it was, because at this point, Taako almost wants to feel worse. Bring on the self-sabotage. He’s gonna make all sorts of choices.

He opens a new text and starts typing the truth, but it’s so embarrassing he has to delete it. He tries again, a little more casually, hey, so, Krav, I’m kinda maybe a little bit– deleted. Super sorry to bother you on your perfect date with perfect David but I wanna be yours so bad I can taste–deleted. Do you want to dump your boyfriend and get with me instead? No worries if not! Fucking hell. He trails his hand in the water, scooping up fast-dissolving bubbles. He shakes them off, and some of them fly all the way to the bathroom counter. Oops.

I like you, he types, and that feels a little less horribly pathetic, but the whole thing was an exercise in misery anyway, and he goes to delete that, too, but his hand is slippery, and he drops the bag his phone is in, and fumbles for it, and it goes right into the water.

“Fuck, fuck!” He scoops it out and shakes it off, but the screen is nearly impossible to read through the waterlogged bag. He dries a hand on the fluffy bath mat and fishes the stupid thing out.

Delivered.

Read.

Taako does throw his phone, hot potato, and it goes all the way across the bathroom. He covers his face. He yells into his hands. He hears his phone vibrate from the floor, once, twice, a third time. Kravitz almost never multi-texts, that’s more Taako’s bag, and he’s trying not to hyperventilate all naked and wet and stupid.

What can he do?? What is there to do??? He doesn’t want to say it was a joke. That would be cruel, a step too far. He might have been feeling self destructive, but he doesn’t need to make Kravitz miserable.

He pushes himself up, and the phone vibrates again, and he pulls the plug in the bathtub and wraps himself in a towel, relieved he showered first, for once. Blue water slogs out of the tub, gurgling in a way that almost sounds like he’s being chastised, and Taako dries himself off, rubbing at his face like maybe it’ll come off if he tries hard enough. This is, unfortunately, unsuccessful.

He takes a deep breath, and he picks up the phone.

Taako, what?

How do you mean that? Taako? Where did this come from?

Do you really? I’d like to talk to you, if you have a chance, I know it’s late, things went long, there was a problem…I mean, I don’t need to exhaust you with the details but, I guess I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Things didn’t turn out the way I planned.

Taako, are you there? Can you call me?

Oh, um, actually, you see, the problem is that Taako would rather succumb to a poison lava death than do that, sorry. His pruney fingers itch with anxiety. The phone starts vibrating with a call, and Taako nearly chucks the phone away again, and this time, he might not get it back.

Something automatic, something unreal, something new, swipes to answer the call, and shakily puts the phone to his ear. Normally he would run, he would ruin things, he would fuck everything up. But he doesn’t want to make Kravitz sad.

He doesn’t say anything, though. His tongue is in knots, and he’s about to swallow it.

“Taako, are you there?” He sounds a little choked up for some reason. “I- Can- can you tell me what you meant? It’s- it’s kind of important…Do you…do you really like me? Like, that, I mean, do you- I mean, you probably wouldn’t have said, I mean, I know you think I’m an okay roommate, and, and all that, but–surely you meant–what did you mean??”

“Um,” Taako says, voice cracking. He’s still holding the towel, hair still dripping down his back. “Uh, hey, Krav.”

“Taako,” Kravitz says, strained. “I- I just got in a fight with David about this, and- and I can’t-”

“Fuck,” there’s something hard in his throat that won’t go away. “I didn’t mean to- It was an accident, I- I don’t wanna ruin-”

“It was an accident?” The disappointment is palpable through the phone. He could palp it right there, physics be damned.

“No!! No- I- It’s true, I just- I didn’t mean to send it, I-”

“It’s true? You like me?” It’s way too eager to mean nothing. Now Taako’s heart is palping. It’s palping hard.

“I- Fucking of course I like you!” The dam breaks. Taako’s glad he doesn’t have to look Kravitz in the eyes. “I’ve liked you for months, okay? I just don’t want to fuck things up wi-”

“Fuck David,” Kravitz says, desperately fast. “He got nasty about the way I picked up the phone when I saw you text. He- he accused me of being in love with you.”

“Yeah? Have, um, have those allegations been proven?”

“The evidence is piling up,” Kravitz admits, and then he laughs, and that breaks the spell, and Taako has to laugh too, even though he may or may not be a little teary-eyed. “I think I just broke up with my boyfriend, Taako,” he whispers.

“What if I told you I know where you can get a new one?”

“I think I’d really like that. It’s been on my mind for a long time.”

Huh, Taako thinks. Maybe I do feel better.

#i have done...an experiment!!!!#taz #taz b #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone balance #the adventure zone #taakitz #fan5fics #taakitz fic #taz art #tazb art #my art #ceilingfanart #lmk if you are interested in more fic/art combos like this #it's kind of a dream come true like. points. this is what i was working towards #very cool to have grown so much!!

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