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cycwrites · 2 years ago

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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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pitch-perfect-spookfest · 2 years ago

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PITCH PERFECT SPOOKFEST 2023 - PROMPT RELEASE

Here we are Spookateers, the official prompts for 2023 are here and we are so excited to announce them!! All your votes have been collated and counted, and these are the top eight prompts that you chose!

24/10: #ppsf23.1 - Cursed Places 25/10: #ppsf23.2 - Psychological Horror 26/10: #ppsf23.3 - Possession 27/10: #ppsf23.4 - Waking Nightmare 28/10: #ppsf23.5 - Came Back Wrong 29/10: #ppsf23.6 - Found Footage 30/10: #ppsf23.7 - Dystopian Horror 31/10: #ppsf23.8 - Unfinished Business

Pitch Perfect SpookFest will run from 24/10/23 to 31/10/23, don't forget to tag your amazing creations with the correct hashtag for each day when posting to Tumblr so that we can we find them, and above all don't forget to have fun when making them!!

We'll see you in a month for the first of our haunting days of SpookFest, but until then we'll be around if you have any questions or comments about the week!!

Happy creating!!! 🎃😈🧡

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kris246 · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stacie Conrad/Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale/Aubrey Posen, Aubrey Posen/Original Male Character(s), Aubrey Posen/Original Character(s), Chloe Beale/Stacie Conrad/Beca Mitchell/Aubrey Posen Characters: Aubrey Posen, Stacie Conrad, Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell Additional Tags: Minor Original Character(s), Lesbian Character, Teenagers, College, Alternate Universe - Parents, Mentioned Other Barden Bellas, Oral Sex Series: Part 4 of Captured Hearts, Part 45 of One Shots Summary:

The story of Aubrey Posen before her senior year. Pt.3 of the Captured Hearts series

#two years later #and im only on part 3 #sigh #aubrey posen #stacie conrad #staubrey #bella squared #bechloe #pitch perfect #ao3

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chriscdcase95 · 1 year ago

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Loves Sacrifices update: "A Sight For Sore Eyes" three parter

Chapters 16 to 18 are up, and I've been waiting for over a year to post this.

This is a three part chapter, and I wanted to wait until all three were up before making this post. I had to split because all three parts put together is nearly five hours of reading. Almost as long as all three Pitch Perfect movies back to back.

I kept saying I wanted to finally get the baby shower done for over two years, and now it's finally finished. What else is that this chapter is meant to wrap up the Bailey Downs arc…which is why it took a while for me to get too.

This is also meant to be a siege chapter, much like I did with Unlife is Strange. Because of how long it took me to get these out, I'm also taking a little break from Love's Sacrifices, and going to be focusing on finishing Mission to Silas, and getting back to writing Unlife.

And since this is meant to wrap up the Bailey Downs storyline, think of it like a "Mid Season" finale.

Which also leads me to this content warning.

Like I said, this is meant to be a battle chapter, and it's probably where the story gets to its darkest points. You may even forget this is a Pitch Perfect crossover.

These chapters include: Blood, light gore and mutilation. Vampire related violence. Werewolf related violence. Demon related violence, curtesy of Lamashtu. Nudity and mild sexuality. Torture. Shooting and gun violence. Children being threatened.

And of course, character death; these three chapters will see two named characters, who were introduced in the first few chapters, being killed off.

...or you could read the TV Tropes page and see who bites it in advance. But what's the fun in that ?

Anyways, links to all three parts down below.

Part one

Part two

Part three

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tiny-maus-boots · 2 years ago

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Down South pt 3

Stacie:

Stacie peeked around the back corner of their house and took note of where the remaining shooters were located. There weren’t that many but a few had taken cover behind still living tumbleweeds that ringed their courtyard. Without a good line of sight Aubrey would be hard pressed to pick them off. In the end each side would resort to potshots at the other until someone ran out of ammo or they lit the house and barn.

Well that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen on her watch. They had spent good long hours together, sweating and bleeding to build a home from nothing but dirt and clay. It was the proudest work she’d ever done and the most peace she had ever felt and she wasn’t willing to let anyone ruin it for her. For any of them. Stacie gave a soft bird whistle and smiled when a volley of shots rang out from the second floor. Just enough fire to give her cover as she scooted the exposed span from the house to the barn.

She ducked inside and closed the door behind her. Shouts from the bushes let her know they’d seen her and they were planning to flush her out. Stacie chuckled and rolled her eyes at the predictability.

“Men. Always in a rush to get ‘er done.”

The tall brunette ducked down behind a squat platform on wheels and pushed it forward to center it to the door. She stepped up behind it and yanked away the heavy canvas tarp covering her newest baby. Stacie’s fingers traced over the calligraphy lovingly etched on the side of one of the six barrels of her gatling gun.

Southern Hospitality.

Each piece was crafted by her own two hands with the help of the local blacksmith. It had taken her weeks just to figure out how to get the lock cylinder to work and truthfully she’d hadn’t had the chance to try her out. There was a very real possibility that it would blow up in her face from misfires when she turned the crank. And it was still the sexiest damn hardware she’d ever laid eyes on, making her hands itch with anticipation.

“Hello gorgeous.”

Rough voices barked out orders in short staccato bursts. It didn’t worry her none. Stacie whistled a tuneless melody as she lifted the hopper full of rounds and clicked it into place. The activity on the other side of the door became frenzied when the men had finally made their way past the barrage of bullets from the house.

“We know you’re in there, woman. Come without a fight and make this easy. Don’t make us have to hurt you.”

If she had a peso for every time she’d heard that. Stacie snagged a long stalk of hay from the abandoned pile and stuck it between her smiling lips. Well, they’d learn just like the others, she never went down without a fight.

“Well boys, if ya want me you’re gonna hafta just come and get me.”

The doors to the barn rattled ominously, a threat of what would come if they had to come in and get her. They would come in with guns drawn and ready, that was for sure. They might underestimate who exactly they were dealing with but not enough to be that careless and stupid. Stacie didn’t intend to give them a chance to shoot. The moment she saw the doors buckle and start to bow out she started to crank her girl up.

Her lips tugged back wider as her grin turned to a grimace from the loud crack of rapid fire shots blasting through the doors of the barn. Acrid smoke from the gunpowder stung her nostrils, the heat of combustion left her face feeling warm and raw like she’d been too close to a blacksmith’s forge.

Stacie kept cranking until the hopper was empty and the only sounds left were the echoing clacks of spinning barrels rotating through the locking gear. What was left of the lower half of one of the doors creaked in the breeze and promptly fell to the dirt. From where she stood she counted four sets of legs on the ground and none of them were moving.

Careful steps brought her around Southern Hospitality toward the doors. The woman cautiously pushed the door open and peeked out at the damage. They’d need to replace the doors before the cattle arrived, maybe a plank or two out of the front wall but the building stood strong. Stacie gave a testing kick to the foot of one of the men and nodded with satisfaction. Movement by the porch caught her eye and she drew her pistol without thought and fired.

He dropped to the ground with a groan and a curse. Gut shot. No bullet wound was a good one but a gut shot was the worst. The man raises his gun and fired back wildly, making her have to duck back into the barn for cover. Now she was pinned until he either bled out or one of the girls came downstairs to deal with him. She was guessing the latter would be happening very quickly.

It wasn’t long before she heard the soft fluttering chirp of their all clear call. Whatever end that man had met it ended silently and likely by one of Beca’s blades. Stacie pushed the door open wider and scanned the area. Nothing moved save for Beca wiping a knife on the shirt of the man on the porch. They shared a solemn nod as she closed the distance to the house.

“We get all of them?”

“Aubrey says yes.”

“Good enough. Who the hell are they?”

Beca knelt by the man and searched his vest pockets. She sighed and ripped off the badge pinned to his shirt to hold it up. Pinkerton National Detective Agency. Well shit. Stacie holstered her gun and kicked at the man’s leg just out of spite. They looked at each other over the Pinkerton’s body, each refusing to say the smartest course of action.

They could run. They should run.

But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Stacie couldn’t even bring herself to voice the idea that felt like admitting so much defeat. They broke eye contact when the front door swung open and Chloe and Aubrey shuffled out. Beca silently held out the badge to Chloe and stood back. The redhead shuddered and dropped the badge on the ground as if it burned.

Aubrey wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and nodded to the men laying scattered around their property with her chin. Her nose wrinkled daintily as she considered all their options. Stacie hoped the blonde wasn’t about to suggest a Christian burial for any of them. She was far past being done with breaking her back for a man. Any man.

“They’ll come looking when this lot doesn’t come back to the pueblo. If they come here they will burn it to the ground if we’re inside or not.”

Chloe shook off the memory that had prompted her statement and hooked her thumbs in her suspenders. If they ran now it wouldn’t matter, everything would still be destroyed. They’d lose everything but their lives and even that wasn’t guaranteed. Stacie tossed her long locks over her shoulder and looked up at the position of the sun. It would be dark soon enough and that would provide them a measure of cover.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’m all out of run. This is our home now, we built this, and I’ll be damned if I like some shiny metal scare me off our land.”

Aubrey gave her a long measuring look before nodding her agreement. Her soft voice carried the weight of all their thoughts.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to be born…”

“And a time to die.”

They finished the verse solemnly. Stacie imagined those Pinkertons would agree. Right up until they realized they would be the ones doing the dying. Aubrey mumbled a soft prayer for them all and placed her hat on her head with firm conviction.

And so their time for peace was at an end, as they were certain to ride into a time of war. Stacie watched the light that had grown in Aubrey’s eyes dim with cold resignation. For now. For now they’d give up their peace. But Stacie would spend every minute until her last bringing that light back if she had to blow up every single Pinkerton that crossed the border.

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect au #stacie conrad #aubrey posen #chloe beale #beca mitchell #wild west series #staubrey #bechloe #bella squared maybe?#maus writes

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i-looove-dillydallying · 2 years ago

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If Belly doesn’t want Cam Cameron I’ll happily take him he’s the best

#I haven’t read the books though my bad #should probably do that soon #better to read before I watch #the summer I turned pretty #cam cameron #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #conrad fisher #love interest #love triangle #love square #opinion #hot take #amazon prime #season 2 #romcom #tv show #tsitp #jenny han

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angelicchris · 16 days ago

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everywhere i go, i keep her picture in my wallet like- | c.s.

“That comes out to $22.50, how would you like to pay?”

“Cash,” Chris answered, already stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets to search for his wallet.

His fingers messily unclasped the leather pouch, pulling out a crisp green bill and a few coins.

Falling down through the air with a disorganized path—similar to that of a leaf blowing in the wind—was a small square-shaped photo.

Chris placed the cash on the counter next to the register, bending down to pick up the printed photo from the tiled floor.

He stood up, holding the small crinkled paper from its rips at the corners, blowing air through his lips onto it to rid it of the floor’s dirt.

Matt, standing next to his younger brother, smirked at how his brother held the photo as if it were the most valuable thing in that entire wallet.

“You really love her, huh?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Chris couldn’t hold back a smile, silently answering the question.

He gazed down at the photo held tightly between his thumb and index finger—the two of you, dressed in matching costumes at a halloween party.

The way the shining bulbs of light from some random disco ball hung from the ceiling of the house party only amplified your perfections.

Your glossy hair, your bright smile.

And Chris at your side, holding onto your waist and smiling directly at you, not the camera.

Chris looked sideways at Matt, before shoving the picture back into his wallet.

Matt simply laughed, clasping his hand on the younger’s shoulder.

He reached for the pizza box on the counter, shooting the cashier a small “thanks,” making his way out of the shop with traces of a smile still lining his face.

notes ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ (i think ?) i’m not shadowbanned anymore, idekk. the pic just screams belly and conrad and this song is soo owned by duplicity h.s.

and we’re going to ignore how the exact pizza price was taken from the opening scene of home alone, k?

ma petite liste d’anges - @courta13 @slutformeganfox @chrxsprettygirl @sfoiasturn

#© angelicchris #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets

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snappingthewalls · 7 months ago

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#graffiti #street art #melbourne #croft alley #paste up #photographs #stencil #youfo #conrad square

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vintagerpg · 5 months ago

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Squares will tell you that the first punk rock band was the Sex Pistols, formed in 1975, but this is hardly a settled matter among punk enthusiasts, who will cite the Ramones, the Saints, Television, the New York Dolls, the Electric Eels, Death, the Stooges, MC5, the Sonics and sundry garage bands stretching ever-further back down the timeline as the true progenitors of the form. When you believe it all started with the Pistols and one of these other acts hits your ears, you can feel the ground shift under your feet. Barony (1990) is kind of like that for TTRPGS.

The folder contains three booklets. The core rules are called Conrad’s Fantasy, though I’ve no idea who Conrad is. In fact, I have a hell of a hard time reading these rules. They’re just…dense and amateurish, full of asides and often just plain unclear. Despite this, I can still see the outline of a completely different kind of “free-style” game for 1990, one focused on storytelling rather than dice rolling and laying out ideas decades ahead of their time. There are no hit points, for instance; rather, characters have a stack of keywords they lose as they take damage (very much like Goblinville, for instance). Skills are checked by rolling 2d8, but there are degrees of success. Weapons aren’t defined, but rather combat tests the way a character uses them. The magic system is free-form, similar to Ars Magica, where players pick a law of reality to break and, anticipating Mage, work to prevent Reality from blowing back on them. Two booklets are devoted to generating games — one for scenarios, the other encounters — using Tarot cards; a third system in the core book uses Tarot to resolve epic combat against dragons (and I can’t help but compare all this Tarot stuff to the recently released His Majesty the Worm).

The result is…curious. It’s strange to read because it seems like 21st century RPGs owe many of their idea to Barony. But like proto-punk, I am not sure that is actually the case — Barony is not often cited and proved damnably difficult to find. Rather, I think these things maybe work in cycles, and that similarly minded designers arrive at the same conclusions sometimes, even if those times are on different points in the timeline. It’s still an amazing read. Er, well, it would have been, at least, if they’d hired an editor.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Barony #Conrad’s Fantasy

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l82theparty · 6 months ago

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One of my all time favs.

A Taste of Home

A post-Nowish, Mitchsen-centric, drabble prompt from the Master Beta, @tiny-maus-boots. Sorry this took so long, Nerd.

Takes place in some nebulous future after Beca signs with DJ Khaled, puts out an album and goes on tour.

Rating: Teen

Words: 4236

Also on AO3 and FFN

All my other stories in this series: Tumblr AO3

~B~

“Vienna sucks.”

“Beca.” Chloe half chided, half soothed. “You’re just tired, love.”

Beca slumped in the chair at the desk in her hotel suite. “I am not. It’s still fucking freezing here.” She resolutely ignored the fact that she’d just been rubbing her eyes like a toddler. She could clearly see the concern in Chloe’s face over their sometimes fuzzy Skype video chat and she wanted to stop whining but it was just too much effort.

At first being on tour had been fun and amazing, except all her girls had jobs and couldn’t take a nine month sabbatical to travel the globe with her. Still, the excitement of the crowds and the energy had been enough to keep her going, along with the frequent video chats whenever they had time, individually or together. She was home for a week or two every couple of months for R&R, but after the first six months the novelty was wearing a little thin once the concert was over for the night.

Then Theo had starting pushing on her to maybe extend the tour since she was doing so well, add a few more months to the end which would extend it to almost a full year of travel. At first he was subtle about it, but then it became almost daily; if it wasn’t directly after her concerts than it was the following morning when they were getting ready to fly to the next stop.

“How can I help?” Chloe asked gently.

“You can’t.” It came out petulant and she knew it. “You’re more miles away than I care to think about.” Just the memory of Chloe’s arms around her, something she hadn’t felt in a month, was almost enough to bring her to tears. “Theo is being an annoying turtle, no one can make a decision without my input and I just want them to leave me alone so I can rest.” The whine was in full force but she couldn’t stop it; she knew her voice was cracking and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was have a tantrum about being on fucking tour when she knew it was the at least the fourth best thing to happen to her. (The first was Chloe, the second was Staubrey and third was the rest of the Bellas if anyone had cared to ask her.)

Keep reading

#mitchsen #mitchsen fluff #stacie conrad #Poly Bellas Squared #aubrey posen #A Shared Lifetime #beca mitchell #chloe beale #cyc writes #wlw

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pitch-perfect-spookfest · 2 years ago

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August is coming to a close, the weather is finally starting to cool off, and something wicked this way comes...

PITCH PERFECT SPOOKFEST 2023

COMING SOON.

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bumblesimagines · 1 month ago

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Heaven in Hiding

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Ever since (Y/N) became Conrad's best friend, he and Belly have butted heads. Their rivalry eventually comes to a head and makes things so much more complicated.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical TSITP warnings, belly girl get a grip, love triangle/square shenanigans, minor Jeremiah bashing cause he's so irritating

~~~

Belly never considered herself someone capable of hating another person. She could get irritated sometimes, especially with her blabbermouth of a brother or her occasionally emotionally distant mother, but the bubbling feeling of fury often lessened and smoothed over hours or days until she inevitably forgot why she was mad at them in the first place. It was easy to smooth things over with Belly, to make her laugh until it was all smiles and breathy words.

That was until she met (Y/N) (L/N) one fateful summer when the Fishers eagerly brought the next door neighbor Conrad had befriended to Cousin's. Suddenly, four kids became five, and any chance of becoming 'one of the boys' flew out the window when they had a shiny new face to show around Cousins and no more room for her.

She was eleven at the time, at the peak of her crush on the unattainable Conrad Fisher, and (Y/N) held all the attention from both Fisher boys (and even Steven) for the whole summer. How could she compete with another boy, let alone one who practically 'oozed coolness', as Steven had put it in a moment of awe? How could she compete with a cheeky, mouthy, skateboard-riding thirteen-year-old who had the boys effortlessly running after him, trying to imitate him?

To say Belly had been jealous was an understatement. He got Conrad all year 'round, and he just had to soak up his attention during summer, too? How was that fair? Belly only had the summer (and sometimes the holidays) to lay eyes on the amazing boy she was certain she'd marry one day, and his attention remained entirely focused on his new best friend.

Her jealousy slipped out of hand at times, she had to admit. Excessive eye rolls, snappy comments that earned her hard looks from her mother, huffing and puffing all around the house, pouting, or scowling when he so much as spoke. Childish, yes, but justified in her young mind, then. It only seemed fair to show her annoyance when she couldn't match up to him.

Laurel lectured her so intensely on the ride home that the only option for the following summer was playing nice, and she did! She slapped on a polite smile the next summer, greeted (Y/N) with feigned happiness when she saw him, and asked about the soccer practice she'd overheard Conrad mentioning. He smiled back, ruffled up her hair condescendingly, and once her mother was out of earshot, he called her four-eyed Billy Conkel and snickered until her face was hot and tears were brimming in her eyes from embrassment.

It was then that the bitter rivalry truly began.

Passive-aggressive comments, insults hidden behind sarcasm or playful teasing, competing at the boardwalk with one of them always being the whiny sore loser, always conveniently forgetting to get the other an ice cream cup or milkshake when they got everyone else something, glares and scowls saved for when no one else was looking.

It only made everyone around them chuckle or roll their eyes playfully, even Conrad, who always cracked a little amused smile when they'd bicker over one thing or another.

For Belly, it was the most grating experience of her life, one that got worse as they matured. (Y/N) remained the cheeky, mouthy, skateboard-riding guy who began smoking weed, drinking beer, and going to parties with or without permission, and what Belly found most mortifying of all? Conrad eventually followed in his footsteps. The first time she'd caught Conrad smoking, just a summer after she'd smugly listened to Conrad lecture (Y/N) about it, she felt like dragging (Y/N) into the pool and drowning him.

But, as much as Belly wanted to consider (Y/N) a spawn of Satan sent to make her life a literal living hell, he'd proven her wrong.

On her fourteenth birthday, they did the typical traditions: pancakes, happy birthday singing, and showering her with heartfelt presents that she cherished. Of course, each year Conrad and (Y/N) 'worked together' to get Belly her present, which everyone knew was bullshit but nobody else seemed to care as much as her that (Y/N) piggy-backed off Conrad's efforts.

Until that year, when he tossed a small, shiny maroon bag at her and she reached in, half-expecting some barely-working headphones or plastic sunglasses from Dollar Tree, but instead she pulled out a beautiful, expensive-looking hair clip.

It was shaped like a flower and in a pretty red-orange ombre that left her stunned into silence while she delicately ran her fingers over the colors. When she glanced up at him, she caught him watching her intently before he looked away to avoid her eyes. It'd made her lips quirk, just the slightest bit.

She still hated him, just as much as he seemed to hate her very existence, but the gift softened the tension that'd been brewing for years until there was only minor bickering and the mean-spirited teasing became light-hearted to the point she allowed herself to laugh at times or give him light shoves. She could tell it pleased everyone, and she'd hoped (silently, of course) that the peace would continue.

It was ruined the second her relationship with the Fisher brothers grew beyond complicated.

Even though she'd been expecting it, his hostility the moment she stepped onto campus with Jeremiah in search of his missing best friend still startled her. Despite his own notable reservations with her, Jeremiah managed to convince (Y/N) to allow her to join them on the ride to Cousins in their desperate search for Conrad, though he'd scoffed and rolled his eyes whenever she so much as audibly sighed.

Belly couldn't find it in herself to be annoyed, not when nearly everyone she loved was pissed at her: her mother and brother blamed her for drawing the boys apart when Susannah needed them the most, Jeremiah couldn't look at her for more than a minute, Conrad disappeared from her life the second things got hard between them. Her stunt at the funeral left a bad taste in (Y/N)'s mouth, she knew it the second she caught his disgruntled stare while picking herself up from the floor.

Belly could tolerate his anger, but she drew the line when it was directed at her closest friends.

There was shouting from the room down the hall, muffled by the walls, as she stepped out of the bathroom with her dirty clothes clutched in her arms. She shuffled into her bedroom, tossing them aside into the laundry basket and straining her ears to listen more carefully. She couldn't pinpoint which voice belonged to whom, but the volume and anger in both had her hurrying out of her bedroom to check that it wasn't Conrad and Jeremiah getting ready to fight.

Gingerly wrapping her hand around the cool doorknob and twisting it slowly, she found herself surprised to see (Y/N) and Jeremiah in each other's faces when she cracked the door open. It'd been (Y/N) who'd called Jeremiah when Conrad first went missing to ask for his help, and Jeremiah hardly fought his decision to go with him to Cousins. Her eyes flickered between the two, the soft squeak of the door opening wider getting lost in their argument.

Jeremiah's brows were tightly pinched together, his hands curled into fists that made the veins along his hands more prominent. "You always take his side! When are you ever going to take mine? You're supposed to be my friend, too!" His chest heaved, and despite the volume of his voice bouncing off the walls, he looked more hurt than pissed.

"Oh, my god!" (Y/N) groaned loudly, his eyes rolling so hard that Belly was sure he'd caught a glimpse of his brain. His head lolled back briefly, shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. "Conrad is my best friend, Jeremiah. I'm always going to defend him!"

"Even when he's wrong?" Jeremiah scoffed. "This is my home, too! I should have a say in what happens, shouldn't I?"

"How the fuck do you expect to be treated like an adult when all you do is act like a child?! You're so fucking annoying that I can't stand you half the time." Belly's heart skipped a beat when (Y/N) drew closer to Jeremiah. She wasn't fully sure what her plan was if they began fighting, but she knew she'd do whatever it took to help Jeremiah. "Yeah, Con can be an asshole, but while he's always trying to protect you and always making sure you're happy, you do nothing for him in return but bitch and complain like a fucking baby."

(Y/N) jabbed his finger in Jeremiah's shoulder, hard enough for Jeremiah to wince and stumble back from the force, before stepping past him with a quiet huff. His heated gaze landed on her, briefly eyeing her as he walked past her before he turned his back to storm down to the bedroom he'd been given years prior. Belly flinched when the bedroom door rattled shut, her lips parting to release the breath she'd been holding in her throat from anticipation.

Frowning, Belly looked back at Jeremiah, her heart constricting at the look on his face. "Jere-"

"Not now, Belly," Jeremiah muttered when he stepped around her, his fist shoving into the pocket of his pants to roughly tug out the keys to his car.

His footsteps thumped loudly along the staircase until she heard the front door slam shut and the engine of a car rumble soon after. She swallowed, contemplating running out barefoot to stop and comfort him or hurrying out back to get Conrad back from his walk on the beach so he could deal with the situation, but instead, she speedwalked to (Y/N)'s door, the bottom of her bare feet slapping harshly against the floorboards.

Shoving the door open and letting it close behind her, Belly scowled at him. "You have no right talking to him that way, and you know it!"

"Oh, for god's sake, Belly." (Y/N) tossed his hands up in exasperation and reluctantly turned around to face her, his slumped shoulders telling her most of the fight had been taken out of him during the argument. "I don't need to hear a lecture from you, of all people."

"Wha-" Belly sputtered, her eyes widening as her cheeks grew hot with shame. "What's that supposed to mean?" She knew what he meant, knew it so well it made her gut twist violently.

"You've done more damage to him than I'll ever do." (Y/N) let out a dry chuckle, his fingers brushing over his forehead to wipe the little sweat along his hairline. Belly wanted to hurl into the nearest toilet out of guilt, but anger licked up her back more swiftly, distracting her from the regret slithering in her gut. "Stop acting like you're some goddamn moral highness after everything you've done to them. After everything you'll do to them."

"You don't know me." Belly's voice trembled, just as the rest of her body did.

"I've known you for six years, Conklin. I've watched you make a fool of yourself enough times to make me immune to second-hand embarrassment." (Y/N) stared at her blankly, as if he were dealing with an intolerant child and not a girl just a little younger than him.

It was the same look Laurel sometimes got when she was too exhausted with her or Steven to react properly. His lips curled upward, a hint of cruelty behind them. The type that always left Belly feeling ignored and small, as if her feelings barely mattered.

"I've watched you chase after Con like a little puppy begging for attention-"

Belly's voice was firm. "Shut up."

"-even when he obviously liked other girls. I watched you chase after him last summer over and over and then the second he finally decided to think about himself before anyone else, you go and make out with his goddamn brother. He forgave you; of course, he did. His mother gets sicker, and he needs his brother more than ever, but Jeremiah's too busy wallowing over some stupid crush he got because you don't have braces anymore to care about him."

"Shut up." She couldn't help how softly the words came out, how almost defeated they sounded.

(Y/N) ignored her, his eyes narrowing in the slightest. He always knew what words to say, what to do to make it feel as if there was a knife jabbing into her ribs. "A couple of weeks after I first came here, you told me I was ruining everything by being around." He gave another little, dry chuckle and scratched the nape of his neck. "I think you were just talking about yourself, right? 'Cause it looks like the only one who ruins things here is you."

"Just shut up!"

Belly barely processed her movements until the palms of her hands were slamming into his chest, toppling him over onto his bed. A hot rush came over her body, feelings she'd been bottling up and only releasing when she wept into her pillow at night, erupting in a flurry of swats and slaps she directed at his shoulders and chest.

"Hey- Jesus, Belly, get off me- what are you doing?!"

(Y/N) wrangled her wrists into his hands, and it was only then she realized she'd climbed onto his lap to smack him. He stared up at her wide-eyed and perplexed, but she couldn't be bothered to feel embarrassed when she felt so exhausted.

Susannah was dead.

The woman she considered to be a second mother was dead. Gone and buried, never to grace them with her teasing smile or raise their spirits with her joyful laughter. She was dead, and her boys were barely speaking to each other because of Belly's stupid feelings. The one thing Susannah cared for above all else was her boy's utmost happiness, and she'd stomped all over it without a care in the world.

Belly's lips began to quiver, tears rapidly welling up in her eyes. She'd been passing through life like a ghost, letting homework go forgotten, letting down the team when they needed her the most, letting everything swallow her up like a tidal wave without turning to Laurel or Steven for advice and help.

It made her feel so helpless, so useless. She tried, she really tried, but marching on through every day felt like an insult to Susannah. How could she just move on? How could anyone possibly expect her to come to terms with the fact she'd never see Susannah again? Everyone treated her like a delicate china cup on the verge of shattering, but none of them did anything to help, as if she'd figure out how to keep herself together.

A sob bubbled up in her chest, and (Y/N) immediately stiffened under her, his breath audibly hitching. Under a clearer mind, she would've felt inclined to scramble off him and rush off to her bedroom, but her body felt weighed down. Tethered by invisible anchors.

"I can't believe she's dead," Belly whispered shakily, her eyes squeezing shut as teardrops tumbled down her flushed cheeks, gliding along her chin until they dripped down. Her shoulders shook with violent sobs and wheezes, the air slowly leaving her lungs until she was gasping for air that refused to linger enough for her to breathe properly. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear her hair out. She wanted to curl into a ball.

She wanted her mother. She wanted Susannah.

"She wasn't there." Belly hiccuped, and then gasped for air. She remembered Steven's graduation speech, how she turned her head to the side expectantly, as if Susannah would be sitting beside them silently cheering him on. But she wasn't. "She- She didn't get to watch Steve graduate. She- She won't be there when- when I graduate-"

"Hey, hey, Belly. Breathe."

She felt him release her wrists from his tight hold and instead wrap his arms around her, one curling around her waist and bringing her down firmly against his body. Her fingers grasped at his shirt as she buried her face into his chest, her body continuing to shake and tremble with the passing sobs and heaves. A headache nipped at her temple, pain pricking her from how hard she cried. She was certain the noises echoed through the empty house.

"Take a breath, Bells. Just- Just take a breath and hold it in your chest." He told her more calmly than she expected, his palm pressing against her back of her head to soothingly run his fingers through her hair. "C'mon, Bells. Do it."

Belly heaved, an ugly, guttural sound, another sob wrecking through her body before she managed to suck in some air and hold it as he'd instructed. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, quick and insistent until it slowly calmed, allowing her sobs to soften into sniffles and whimpers. She released the air, finding her body calmer and more responsive.

"Okay," (Y/N) took in a deep breath himself. "Uh, name five things you see."

Blinking away the tears that gathered in her eyes, she tilted her head to press her cheek into (Y/N)'s chest instead and glanced around the room in search of things to name. Against the navy blue of his walls, her eyes locked on the decorations. "Uhm," She sniffled. "I see- I see a poster for Alien and- and a picture of you and Con."

That was two.

"I... I see a white dresser with- with a jar of seashells on top." A gift from Conrad, she remembered faintly, meant for the fifth-year anniversary of him joining them at Cousins. Another two down. "And- and your shoes by the door." Last one.

Her body deflated, the fog in her brain lifting enough for her mind to focus. Her eyes kept darting around the room, taking in everything she could from the angle she was in. The white closet doors that were cracked open just a little out of sight; the red and white letterman jacket tossed over the footboard with a big 'S' over the breast area; two golden framed pictures of previous years at Cousins; a large painting of a tropical beach Susannah likely put up before he claimed the room as his.

"Feeling better?" (Y/N) asked tentatively, his arms sliding off her and falling limply at his sides, the muscles still stiff. She could hear his heartbeat and felt it against her ear. It was gentle, soothing. The rhythm calmed her, like a lullaby.

"A little," Belly answered hoarsely, her fingers releasing his wrinkled shirt and pressing weakly against the comforter.

Her hair cascaded down her shoulder with her movements, the bed whining softly as she pushed herself up and settled over his lap once more. Heat pinched her cheeks, embarrassed with herself and her show of self-pity, but it was done. Her sworn enemy had seen her at her lowest, and quite possibly her worst. Not even Jeremiah or Conrad had seen her breakdown so violently before, and she hoped to keep it that way.

She waited for (Y/N) to shove her off him, to grumble about her soaking his shirt with her drool and tears, and usher her out of his room so they could both ignore what'd happened for the rest of their lives. He stared up at her instead, or rather, stared at her for a few seconds before his eyes darted away, his mouth pressing into an awkward, unsure line.

He almost looked meek and small, not the smug and judgmental asshole she had come to know him as. There were things about him she hadn't noticed before, like the faded scars peeking out from beneath his messed-up shirt, which he'd gotten from years of roughhousing and soccer, the warmth that radiated from him like a fireplace, and the faint tan line around his neck from the short seashell necklace he constantly wore. He was gentle when he wanted to be, she noted. She'd always seen him tugging and pushing, keeping Conrad within arm's reach at all times, like an anchor and its ship. He never offered that affection to the others. Steven had Jeremiah to hug and shove and laugh with, she supposed.

"I'm.. I'm sorry." She exhaled and rolled off his lap, her body bouncing slightly when she made contact with the mattress. Her knee bent and tucked beneath her other leg, her hands toying with each other as she set them over her lap. "I-I shouldn't have... God, I.." It was mortifying. She wanted to erase the moment from her head.

"It's whatever," (Y/N) said under his breath as he sat up and dragged himself further onto the bed until his feet were left dangling. "We're all, uh... dealing with it differently. I miss her, too. It's weird visiting home and not seeing her waiting on the porch. Sometimes... sometimes I forget and wonder if she's out grocery shopping or- or I'll go to call her when I hear gossip she'd love." He gave a little laugh, followed by a long, heavy sigh.

Belly sniffled. "I do that, too. Sometimes I start texting her 'cause I need her advice or someone to talk to and then... I remember I'll never get an answer back. It's the worst feeling in the world. I-I thought nothing would top Conrad and I breaking up, but..." Belly shook her head and raked her fingers through her hair, pushing strands out of her face that only slipped right back to where they were previously. "I just want to forget everything for a moment."

(Y/N) reached out to her and carefully wiped away the tear marks on her cheeks with his thumb. "Drinking helps, but it'll be a problem in the morning. I don't think the boys or their aunt would appreciate you stumbling around with a hangover, though." His shoulders shook with a laugh, mouth forming a grin he typically reserved for Conrad.

"Yeah." Belly agreed softly despite not being able to focus fully on his words because of his lingering hand, leaving her chest feeling... weird. His fingers extended, tucking her hair behind her ear, before he retracted his hand to rest it over his thigh. "I wouldn't want to leave a bad impression on their aunt Julia." She chuckled breathily, her eyes darting away from him. Had (Y/N) always been this handsome?

"I hear she's a bitch."

Belly gave his arm a soft smack and shot him a look despite the quiet huff of amusement. "Maybe she's changed, who knows? I mean, if Steven died.. I don't know what I'd do with myself, and he gets on my nerves every single day. They say grief makes people do and think crazy things."

"Like selling your dead sister's summer home that her family still uses?" His brows knitted together, lips jutting out in a scoff. "The grief I've seen is... drinking and driving, screaming at bystanders, and sleeping with anyone and everyone willing.. technically but not technically making a scene at a funeral-"

"Ugh."

Belly slumped back on the bed, the air being briefly knocked out of her lungs as her body sank into the comforter and mattress. She stared up at the high ceiling, her nose crinkling and mouth twisting at the memory of her in that little black dress, huffing and puffing at Conrad before falling in front of everyone. Nobody laughed, thankfully, the atmosphere had been too somber to laugh at some eighteen-year-old making a fool of herself, but the silence was somehow more humiliating.

(Y/N) chuckled, and the space beside her sank with his body coming to lie there. "The second-hand embarrassment was intense. I had to spike my own drink to get through the day. It was horrifying-"

"I get it!" Belly groaned, her hands flying up to cover her face in dismay. "I swear I didn't mean to make a scene. I.. I shouldn't have yelled at Conrad or- or said anything. I hate myself for it."

(Y/N) hummed softly. "Well, the boys don't hate you for it. I don't think they'll ever hate you, no matter how weird things get. And listen, I know they've known you for years and you're the only pretty girl they've been around since kids, but... Jesus. It's like they don't even-"

"You think I'm pretty?" Belly's hands lifted from her face when she lolled her head to the side to peer at him. Part of her always thought he viewed her the same way he viewed the boys, just another face he saw often.

"Belly, you were always pretty." (Y/N) huffed and rolled his eyes as if his words were the most obvious thing in the world. "Glasses or no glasses, braces or no braces, dresses or shorts. You look the exact same as you did three or four years ago. Jeremiah's jus' used to rich girls who doll themselves up all the time. That's why he was so surprised. It's his norm."

"I thought- you didn't think I was ugly? Why do you call me Billy Conklin, then?" Belly propped herself up onto her elbow, twisting around to lie on her side and stare down at him. "I thought the whole reason you called me that was because you thought I looked like a boy."

"I call you Billy 'cause it pisses you off, not because of how you look, dumbass. I mean, maybe if you hadn't been such an ass to me when we first met I would've liked you, but then you got all huffy with me." (Y/N) shrugged casually, his eyes pointedly staring past her and at the ceiling instead. "I couldn't let it slide."

"Oh."

Her cheeks burned with warmth again, and she suddenly felt shy. Her mind had always been full of Conrad: What did Conrad like? What would Conrad say? What would Conrad think? Would Conrad notice her if she did this or if she wore that? Conrad, Conrad, Conrad, Conrad, and then, for a couple of days, Jeremiah.

Always the Fisher boys, her Fisher boys, but she'd never given (Y/N) much thought. He was always an extension, someone who was just there, someone who was always in the way. But... looking at him now with a fresh set of eyes, and a new opinion of him..

Conrad couldn't look at her for longer than a few seconds. Jeremiah always looked awkward in her presence. (Y/N) was... himself. A familiar face who hadn't changed, who hadn't looked at her differently when she arrived at Cousins looking taller, prettier, older. Jeremiah was a wildcard, loud and attention-grabbing. Conrad was calm and steady, but unpredictable.

(Y/N) stayed the same. Consistent while her world spun out of control.

"Do you think you could ever..." Belly trailed off, her voice quieting down into a whisper. His eyes returned to her face, flickering between her eyes as his brows furrowed. "Do you think if.. if things had been different.. You and I would have..."

"Too late now," (Y/N) muttered.

"Is it?"

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abbysimsfun · 3 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 166 (Here's to the Birthday Girls!)

Cousins Lavender Gordon and Betta Bell were born just days apart, and they turned five together while Betta stayed with her mother, Holly, and grandmother, Daisy, at the Gordons' home in Brindleton Bay.

To commemorate their shared growth spurt, they posed for a silly selfie in the front yard. As it should be, the family was together. Even Ash was home, and this was perfectionist Lavender's favourite gift of all.

She didn't even mind that they didn't have a bigger party - Lavender thought parties created anticipation, and too much anticipation might lead to disappointment. But her family was too preoccupied with Ash's custody issues and preparing for the arrival of her baby brother to throw a party, anyway.

Cheerful Betta talked excitedly about her cousins coming to stay at her family's loft in the city for a sleepover, but this weekend they were content to stay home and spend time together.

A light spring rain filled the breeze with the mossy scent of petrichor, and they gathered outside to take in the fresh air of Sable Square. When the baby kicked to join the family festivities, Betta curiously felt her Aunt Heather's growing stomach.

"Are you going to have another baby, too, Mommy?" Betta turned to Holly with curious eyes.

"If you want a little brother or sister, you and Tetra might have to convince your father. He's really happy with the two of you."

"But when great-uncle Karl and great-uncle Mortimer move to Willow Creek, we'll have more room for a baby!"

Holly laughed. "You don't have to convince me, kiddo. Talk to your Dad."

"So, how is life in the city for you?" Daisy asked her grandson, trying not to show her distaste for the Landgraabs while she made conversation.

"It's fun, Grandma. I don't like some of the kids at my school, but I don't have to talk to them. Nan and Papa make us feel safe there. Papa's engineering firm is even working on time travel with biometrics so criminals like Marco Peralta won't be able to use it!"

The adults looked between one another with stunned glances. Heather silently fumed; Judge Marlow had told them to avoid discussing ghosts or time travel with their son, but the Landgraabs, as ever, thought themselves above rules everyone else had to follow.

Worse, the Landgraabs were probably responsible for the biometric device used by the slippery time thief Felix and Lilith had gone to 1920 to try to find.

"What's wrong, Mom? Isn't it a good thing to make time travel harder to use?"

She nodded quickly to hide her frustration. "Absolutely. Of course."

Conrad turned his attention to the dogs. He dressed warm to take them out to run around, bringing his phone to update Felix on the latest developments with a video chat.

"I thought you'd want to know it looks like Landgraab Engineering is already working on a biometric device, according to Ash."

"Of course they are. I'll look into it, see if they're breaching the patent. If they are, I'll hopefully be able to shut them down. Oh, by the way, you're on speakerphone. Lilith's haggling with the wedding venue over email right now."

"Hopefully? Hey Lilith."

She called back warmly as the newly-engaged attorney sighed. "I know I'm good at what I do, but the Landgraabs are the Landgraabs."

Conrad frowned. "So, what else is going on in your part of the world?"

"I'm still trying to find a charger that will work on this phone Maude left for us. We wanted Emit to take it to the future, but he said their tech is too advanced and the phone won't work in his time, either. They got rid of cell phone towers centuries ago, apparently."

"I ran a search through the police database for Robin Banks and didn't find anyone matching your description."

"I didn't think you would. I think she's from the future. Maybe not too far into the future if the Landgraabs are already working on biometric time travel."

"Maybe Banks is an alias, or a married name," Conrad brainstormed, as another idea dawned on him entirely. "I think I know who you could talk to about getting into that phone..."

When he returned home, he grabbed a piece of birthday cake while Lavender played with Mayor Whiskers in the kitchen. "Are you going to have a piece of your own cake?"

Lavender shook her head, pulling a piece of leftover cheesecake from the fridge, instead. "This one has no icing, Daddy."

That night, Ash braved a chilly evening at the chicken coop in the yard, helping hatch a new chick he decided to name Coolbeans. He never had opportunities like this is San Myshuno, and he missed listening to the sound of crickets in the brush lining the walking paths around the square.

Wanting to be responsible like her big brother, the next morning Lavender went outside in her pajamas to tend the insect farm. But she ignited a spigot of biofuel, and I legitimately thought I was about to lose my Gen 3 heir but the fire went out thank goodness!

She calmed her nerves from the rapid flames by listening to music from the Grimophone in the living room, and this encouraged Heather to pass down a gift she'd carried in her inventory for decades. Watcher knows why - perhaps Lavender was always destined to be a violinist, and when her dad Neal dug up this child's violin way back in Gen One, he just knew Heather should hold onto it.

"I know how much you love sounds. This might be a sound we all have to get used to, but I hope you enjoy making beautiful music with this one day. Hopefully, it keeps you away from the insect farm for at least a few more years."

Perfectionist Lavender was excited to focus on mastering the instrument, but her early attempts were squeaky and wrought with missed notes. She couldn't grasp everything as easily as her brother, but she was determined not to fade into his highly accomplished shadow.

Undeterred by the noise in the backyard, Lavender's Aunt Holly could still find a way to break into a meditative yoga pose just feet away. In truth, Lavender sounded awful, but Holly liked violin, and she liked supporting her niece's burgeoning interest even more.

With instrument in hand and hours of practice quickly under her belt, Lavender dreamed of being an artistic prodigy.

But would her perfectionism and drive to follow in her genius brother's footsteps help or hurt her along the way? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: With Ash and Lavender fully five years apart, I do have a height preset for Ash but I'm sort of afraid to use it. I know, why download it, etc. But it's there for side sims who need to be tall or short for the plot, for the most part, and I don't want to get too reliant on the preset for storytelling because from what I can tell once it's applied and I save, I can't take it back without removing the cc itself. All that to say that's why they're the same height at ten and five years old at the moment!

NOTE 2: Every age up trait the heir gets comes from the In Bloom Challenge guidelines (the freedom I have is when they gain those traits), but I've tried to show toddler Lavender both into music as well as books, hence the violin skill she must master. She's also the type to get deeply disappointed when the perfect plan she has in mind plays out differently (like finding out she's getting a baby brother instead of a sister). Perfectionism being a bit of a response to her accomplished brother felt like a great base to build Lavender's character on!

FUN FACT: Lavender aged up twice - once for real and once because I had to reshoot Betta, who initially aged up during a stay over and I couldn't edit her randomized look (a medieval cc peasant nightgown and some gumboots!) without cancelling the event. The fun fact is, both times, Lava aged up randomly with lavender-coloured hair - once with an EA swatch and once with cc. I love this because it's been my plan to have her dye her hair when she's older like her namesake grandmother (Conrad's mom) since she aged up to infant and got Heather's hair colour. It's like the game just knew.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay #felix psyded

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