Ilthit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ilthit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femslashficlets2020-08-09 02:54 pm
ilthit) wrote in femslashficlets2020-08-09 02:54 pm
Entry tags:
Tarot: Trade Off (Original)
Title: Trade Off
Fandom: Original (Peccadillo Parlour)
Pairing: Amber Goldman/girls, Amber/Ted Vance
Rating: teen
Prompt: The World
Word Count: 250
Summary: Amber is getting married.
Contains: Marriage for money, man fetishising wlw, alcohol.
When Amber was thirty-five, she finally caved.
Ted was good fun. Ted had tattoos from the eighties and stories from every corner of the world. He had crow’s feet and laugh lines and a wicked sense of humor, and his own kind of a sense of justice that balanced out the blind callousness of someone who had been born rich. But more than that, Ted had money.
Shitloads of it.
No more scrimping and saving. No more swiping gas, no more tricked out license plates or shady jobs that at best ended up funding a weekend in Thailand. She could have all the dresses and parties she wanted, any car—any number of cars—a room of her own, holidays, first class seats on the plane. And he didn’t want kids. It was perfect.
Ted thought it was hot that she liked girls, so she could even have good sex sometimes. Maybe even without him watching.
She just had to make sure never to fall in love again.
Instead of a bachelorette party, Amber took out a hotel room with a view of the ocean and ordered room service. She leaned over the balcony with a glass of champagne, the ocean breeze soft on her face, and raised her glass to the ghosts of old lovers. Michelle, Sandy, Karyn.
She could have done so much better by all of them. But well, here they were.
Amber drank, and refilled her glass. There were still more goodbyes to be said.
Fandom: Original (Peccadillo Parlour)
Pairing: Amber Goldman/girls, Amber/Ted Vance
Rating: teen
Prompt: The World
Word Count: 250
Summary: Amber is getting married.
Contains: Marriage for money, man fetishising wlw, alcohol.
When Amber was thirty-five, she finally caved.
Ted was good fun. Ted had tattoos from the eighties and stories from every corner of the world. He had crow’s feet and laugh lines and a wicked sense of humor, and his own kind of a sense of justice that balanced out the blind callousness of someone who had been born rich. But more than that, Ted had money.
Shitloads of it.
No more scrimping and saving. No more swiping gas, no more tricked out license plates or shady jobs that at best ended up funding a weekend in Thailand. She could have all the dresses and parties she wanted, any car—any number of cars—a room of her own, holidays, first class seats on the plane. And he didn’t want kids. It was perfect.
Ted thought it was hot that she liked girls, so she could even have good sex sometimes. Maybe even without him watching.
She just had to make sure never to fall in love again.
Instead of a bachelorette party, Amber took out a hotel room with a view of the ocean and ordered room service. She leaned over the balcony with a glass of champagne, the ocean breeze soft on her face, and raised her glass to the ghosts of old lovers. Michelle, Sandy, Karyn.
She could have done so much better by all of them. But well, here they were.
Amber drank, and refilled her glass. There were still more goodbyes to be said.