#Bechloe off page

[pinkpastels113]

Bechloe accidental first kiss

Beca, of course, had always thought about kissing Chloe. She’s beautiful, warm, and quite frankly the whole reason Beca is having such a great time at Barden. Beca’d come to the realization that she had a crush on her best friend ages ago, and every day that came after that was just another day that Beca had to stifle the urge to do just that.

She thought about how soft Chloe’s lips would be- she always saw her reapply her chapstick religiously- and dreamed about how cute it would feel like to stand up on her tip toes and wrap her arms around Chloe’s shoulders. She wanted to have Chloe hold her as more than a friend, in places more than just the couch in the Bella House.

Beca is not completely sure that Chloe likes her back- no matter what Stacie or Emily or anybody else says- so that’s why she hasn’t yet made her move. She’s not a complete wimp- she’d made out with Jesse in front of all those people in Lincoln Center after all- but she is not going to be rejected by her best friend, damn it. Beca doesn’t think that she can’t take it, the awkwardness nor the loss of friendship. Chloe is her favorite person, ever, in the world, and Beca doesn’t know what she would do with herself if she ruined that.

The only problem was, Chloe is touchy. She touched Beca everywhere, on the arm whenever she laughs, the hand whenever she wants to listen to some music that Beca had mixed, the waist whenever she wishes to get by. Normally Beca is used to it, but sometimes she still gets caught off guard and jumps whenever she is not paying attention.

Such as today.

"Okay, okay," Chloe says, trying to catch everybody's attention. "We have the decorations here, Jessica and Ashley are going to put on the music, and Beca is laying out the cookies. The Trebles are going to be here in about an hour girls, let's move it."

Why Beca had agreed to take care of the baking, she does not know. Certainly not because Chloe had tried her mom's chocolate chip cookie recipe last week and begged Beca to recreate it, that's just too pathetic.

Beca sighs, folding in the chocolate chips. She has one more step to go, and then she can shove them in the oven and never think about it again. Chloe can take them out. It was her idea anyway.

Finished with gently laying in the chocolate with the dough, Beca goes to look for the scooper. She opens the drawer where they usually keep it, but it's not there.

"Hey, Chlo! Where's the scooper? I need it for the cookies."

"Hm?" Chloe glances back over her shoulder from the living room, where she is taping a string of Christmas lights from the ceiling. "Oh I think I have it in my room. I used it last night for some ice cream."

Beca raises her eyebrows. "For some ice cream? Really? That's like... a pretty big spoon, don't you think?"

Chloe huffs, rolling her eyes. There is a smile on her lips and Beca is proud that she placed it there. Teasing is too much fun. "Well I have a pretty big appetite, especially for sweet stuff like ice cream. You know that."

"Uh huh." Beca is already washing her hands and making her way into Chloe's bedroom. "I should have put salt in these cookies then, so you wouldn't eat them all."

Chloe's room is a mess. Books on her bed, clothes on the floor, bra hanging over a desk chair. Beca tries not to stare at it as she turns around in a circle to locate the ice cream/cookie scooper. Knowing Chloe, it could be under her bed for all Beca knew. She was just about to bend down and pull the comforter over when something catches her eye.

A journal. On Chloe's pillow.

It was open to two pages, left side scribbled on, right side with a drawing. Ethically, Beca knows that she shouldn't, but curiosity gets the better of her when she sees something written in Chloe's loopy lettering that might be her name. Stepping over a novel from some Russian author, Beca picks the journal up.

She barely had time to register that the drawing was of her bent over her laptop when Chloe pinches her waist. "Hey I found it-"

Beca practically jumps out of her skin at the sudden contact. "Jesus Chr-"

Chloe's mouth brushes the corner of Beca's. They both freeze. Beca's hands slip on the journal balancing in her palm and it tumbles down to her feet but neither seems to notice. They're too busy trying to understand what just happened. Beca's face is turned towards Chloe's and her heart is making itself known in her ribcage with the speed at which its beating. Her brain sizzled and sparked like a backup generator kicking into gear in a blackout.

They're still standing two inches apart. Beca's eyes look into Chloe's and Chloe's look back, both surprise and a little bit of fear reflected in those bright blues. Chloe seems to hesitate, before pulling her hand away from Beca's body. When Beca didn't make an effort to move, or push her away, Chloe swallows, and opens her mouth.

"Look, Beca, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Beca blinks. Dazedly. "What?" Holy crap, Chloe Beale just kissed her. "About what?"

Chloe gestures between them. "That." Her breath is warm and smells like candy, and god, her lips look so soft. "We shouldn't have kissed. I scared you, and you hadn't been paying attention, and I really do want to kiss you, like so so freaking bad, but like not like this, and I'm sorry that if this means that our friendshi-"

And this time, Beca kisses her. Because Chloe just confirmed that she likes Beca back, and Beca is not a wimp. She kisses her like she imagined she would, and her arms wrapped around Chloe's shoulders and her feet goes to stand on tip toes and Chloe's smile is indeed soft and sweet and tastes like candy and Beca is so glad that she agreed to bake her cookies tonight.

Chloe pushes Beca down onto her bed. Her teeth nips on Beca's bottom lip before trailing to her neck and Beca can feel herself shiver. "You really shouldn't have been going through my journal, either, y'know."

"Yeah well, I have a pretty big appetite, especially for mysterious stuff like journals. You know that."

Chloe laughs, right into Beca's skin. Her fingers brush on Beca's thighs and Beca starts, again, because she really doesn't think she can ever get over Chloe suddenly touching her in all the right places. "I do now."

[cycwrites]

Four Drinks I’m Wasted

Angst lite Staubrey standalone AU oneshot. 

Something I didn’t plan on writing and then I had ideas while driving home. I’m annoyed that I’m writing angst. I’m even more annoyed I picked on Aubrey but it… fit.

Inspired by King Princess’ ‘Talia’ (YouTube / Spotify / Lyrics) but I’m a soft and useless human so the angst is merely ‘light medium’.

Thanks as always to @tiny-maus-boots for the beta and to @wlwoolf for helping classify the angst level.

Rated: Mature-ish. Drinking & almost driving.

Words: 3,286

Also on AO3 and FFN

Master Post

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~A~

Aubrey groaned quietly as she swam through the thick whiskey haze toward consciousness.

As had become standard, she ran through a mental hangover checklist to try and take stock of what she’d been up to the night before and how rough her morning might be.

Headache – check.

Feeling like something died in her mouth – check.

Nausea – check, though she knew it could be worse.

At home in her own bed instead of passed out on the couch, or the bathroom floor, or once in the shrub outside in her backyard… she listened for the comforting bubble of the aquarium across the room – check.

Imagined warmth of the woman who left her lying beside her in bed?

Fucking. Check.

Faint memories of the night before were slow to surface.

“Goddamnit Aubrey, give me your fucking keys.” Hands pulled at her arm, trying to pry her fingers apart.

“Fuck you, Beca.” Aubrey shot back, lifting her hand above her head. “Why do you even care? You’ve never really liked me, so what the fuck business of yours is it if I live or die?”

It wasn’t that she had a death wish. It wasn’t like she wanted to die. She had just stopped caring one way or the other.

“Seriously? You can say that to me?” Beca looked hurt – shocked and devastated Aubrey would think later – and even though part of her was horrified at what she was saying, it was at the bottom of a sea of liquor and she didn’t care. Wouldn’t let herself. “If I didn’t fucking care, Aubrey, I wouldn’t fucking be here stopping you from fucking killing yourself by getting into your fucking car!”

Aubrey sneered and keyed the remote lock. “Who asked you to?” She opened the door and prepared to get in when she was staggered forward by a weight on her back. Shock worked its way through the alcohol in her system as she realized Beca had literally jumped on her back and was trying to bodily prevent Aubrey from sitting in the driver’s seat.

“I am not going to let you leave us! I am not going to let you fucking leave me and Chloe behind to explain to Stacie what the fuck happened! I am not going to fucking let you fucking quit! Posens don’t fucking quit!”

Aubrey swung in a half circle, trying to dislodge the arms and legs that were wrapped tightly around her body. Beca’s words were bouncing around in her head, trying to remind her that she wasn’t truly alone, she had people who cared and it was she who was pushing them away. With a strength she didn’t know she had she flung Beca off her in an attempt to remove all the guilt that had slammed into her harder than Beca’s tackle.

Anger suffused her, made her want to lash out and in the cold light of morning she would realize it was at herself but at the time Beca had all her focus. She swung her fist at Beca’s head, noticing her friend’s (because she still was, despite everything Aubrey had been saying to her and Aubrey knew it) eyes widen in shock and move too late to miss it entirely but it merely skimmed off her cheek and Aubrey’s hand slammed into the metal frame between the front and rear doors.

“Aubrey!”

That explained the throbbing that had been slowly getting worse in her hand. Still laying with her eyes closed she flexed her right hand carefully, relieved that it didn’t seem to be broken, just swollen and painful. The rest of the night was only bits and pieces but she thought that a terrified Beca had frantically checked her for broken bones and carefully deposited Aubrey in the passenger seat and drove them home. There were flashes of red hair, ice packs and possibly someone had brushed her teeth for her? She also thought that Beca had undressed her and dumped her less than carefully into bed, but tucked her in.

She really had been shitty to Beca and Chloe since Stacie had walked out on her three months ago. She knew they loved her. That they had been there for her. Trying to keep her from the spiral they could see happening. Comfort take-out food and movie nights that Beca hadn’t said a word about. Nothing had helped.

The drinking hadn’t been the plan. She wasn’t an alcoholic, even though that’s exactly what alcoholics said. She came from a family of high functioning alcoholics and knew the signs. Even if she could lie to others, Aubrey could almost never lie to herself. Her self-hatred would have jumped at the chance to call her a failure for joining the ranks of her boozy relatives after a life of vowing never to become them. She could stop whenever she wanted. Except she didn’t want to.

Because the only time Aubrey could lie to herself was when she was drunk.

She could make herself believe that Stacie was still there.

Drink enough and she could see the love of her life in front of her, dancing; smiling that sexy smile that was meant for only Aubrey. The one that promised sinful things in silken sheets and made her body sing in anticipation.

Feel her touch. Taste her lipstick.

Feel her lying in bed when Aubrey finally collapsed into it, certain she would remain when Aubrey woke.

They had been together for years, waiting to get married until Aubrey had finished law school and got settled at a firm. The wedding was small, immediate friends and family only, and the honeymoon was heaven on Earth. When they got back, Aubrey began to work her way through the ranks, lured ever on by the promise of being made a junior partner if she just worked hard enough.

The fights began their second year of marriage.

“I’m doing it for us, for our future!” Aubrey slammed down the notepad she’d been writing on. “Why can’t you see that?”

“What future, Aubrey?!” Stacie stood in the doorway, back straight and eyes snapping fire. And, Aubrey would only realize as she played the memories back after it had all fallen apart, pain and loneliness. “What kind of future are you working towards if I never get to fucking see you?”

“I just need a little more time! They have to promote me this time!” She gritted her teeth. “I’m doing it for us!”

The fight was always the same.

Until one day it wasn’t.

“I don’t think I have any more time to give, Aubrey. I miss you even when you’re here. Buried in the next case… and the next.” Stacie wasn’t sobbing but tears streamed down her cheeks and Aubrey’s chest went cold. “It hurts too much.”

Every night she would sort through her memories, pulling out favorites until she cried herself to sleep, wondering how she could be so stupid.

Three weeks after Stacie had walked out and not come back except to pack her bags, Aubrey had hurt so much she drank just to numb the pain. There was a block of ice that ached in her chest until she drowned it in whatever was handy. She’d mentally joke that she herself was on the rocks as she took another drink. She imagined what she would do if Stacie were there. What she’d say. How she’d vow to do better, be a better wife. Make up every missed dinner, missed phone call, missed nights on the couch binge watching Netflix.

As the night grew late and the bottle grew lighter, it was almost like Stacie had been there and Aubrey fell asleep thinking Stacie was beside her.

She was shattered when she woke alone in the morning and called in sick for the first time.

That was only the beginning.

She chased the dream every night, while growing more and more irritable at work. Stormed out of meetings after arriving late. Snapped at clients and yelled at interns. Counted the seconds until she could get home and open the bottle she’d buy on the way.

Two weeks ago she’d gone to work still half-drunk from the night before.

She was put on suspension pending a review. She’d been a model employee until then and her boss gave her three weeks to get her shit together. Personally she thought they were giving her a chance because she was their best researcher and the boss thought her legs looked great in a skirt.

Aubrey stayed home and drank for the first week.

Chloe and Beca had been alternately furious and cloyingly concerned when they found out.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve-“ Chloe somehow looked ready to scream and cry at the same time.

“Helped?” Aubrey laughed derisively. “No, you can’t.”

“We love you, Aubrey. We just want you to be happy.” Chloe’s hand on her arm had burned and Aubrey jerked free and stalked to the kitchen.

“Got a time machine in your pocket, Chlo?” Aubrey snorted and poured herself another shot.

It was the same old shit every time. They couldn’t help her and she didn’t even know why they would try. There was obviously something wrong with her; something that made her unlovable. She had ruined the one thing that gave her life meaning. Stacie had left her and it was just a matter of time before Beca and Chloe figured it out and left. She didn’t deserve them and maybe it was just better to lose them now than later when she failed them too.

She had started going to their favorite bar because there were different memories there that she wanted to relive.

Winning at darts despite Stacie’s long arms that Aubrey teased gave her an advantage.

Slow dancing to the jukebox in a dark corner as if they were the only two in the room.

Losing at pool because Stacie was a natural born hustler.

Unfortunately the problem with going to your favorite local bar is that sometimes they know you.

Sometimes they know your friends.

Sometimes they call annoying busybodies who try to tell you that you have to stop.

But she couldn’t stop because then the pain would find her and Aubrey had always been an amazing runner in school. It translated easily from physical activity to metaphorical sprints void of her own mind.

She had to drink to keep Stacie with her any way she could. Why couldn’t they see that?

She sighed and tried to find the energy to move. To dispel that feeling of warmth in bed with her. The more awake she was before she got up, the more that seemed to hurt. Bracing herself she reached out her left hand to sweep through the empty space that matched the one in her heart.

Her fingers brushed against warm, soft skin.

She froze, her mind somewhere between ‘I’ve finally done it - I’ve drunk myself into insanity’ and ‘Beca must have stayed to make sure I didn’t actually kill myself.’ She pulled her hand back to her side and clenched both fists, increasing the throbbing ache from where she’d punched her own car.

“Aubrey.”

Everything shut down. Because that wasn’t Beca.

She was afraid to look - it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be here. Because Aubrey had fucked it up, fucked it all up: her friends; her work; the reason for her very existence.

“Bree.” Warm living fingers took her cold nerveless ones and pressed them to lips Aubrey could see clearly in the screaming darkness of her mind.

“You can’t be here.” Aubrey’s voice shook so bad it was almost intelligible. “I pushed you away.”

“I’m here.” Warm breath skimmed over her fingers. It felt so real. More real than the alcohol dreams usually did. She must have really fucked up if she was still this drunk. “All you have to do is open your eyes and look at me.”

“I always see you,” Aubrey said softly. Since this wasn’t real, she squeezed the hand holding hers. “At least when I drink... You’re here. You’re in my arms. And I stop feeling like I’m dying in slow motion.”

“Oh baby.” The broken, sorrowful tenderness in it further opened wounds that had never even begun to heal. “This isn’t who you are.” Drops of liquid hit her hand and Aubrey wondered how a dream could cry. “I know this isn’t you.”

“I don’t know who I am without you.” Aubrey said softly. “I don’t know how to find myself without you to catch me.” Introspection wasn’t normal for her - overthinking, yes, but not this two way dialog with her subconscious. But she had to admit, she found it comforting to hear Stacie’s voice wrap around her once more.

“I’m sorry I left.” Lips kissed her hand again. “I shouldn’t have. I should have stayed and fought for us.”

“It’s all my fault. I was so wrong,” Aubrey stirred restlessly when the warmth shifted closer to her. “I couldn’t see I was working toward nothing at the cost of everything.” She gave a bitter laugh. “They weren’t going to make me a partner; I was just too blind to see he was just using me to win his own damn cases.” She shook her head against her pillow. “Doesn’t matter, they’re probably going to fire me.”

“You’re better than them, Bree.” Another shift and the long, lithe body that pressed against her brought tears to Aubrey’s eyes. “I’ve always told you that you need to find a place who appreciates you as something other than a drone slave.”

“Maybe,” Aubrey shrugged carelessly. “But what does it matter now? I’ve thrown away the only future that ever really mattered.” A sob choked her. “I miss you so much, love.” The advantages of hallucinating were you could say anything and the only person to hear it was you. “The world has no laughter. No color. No light. No purpose. No hope.”

“Honey.” Lips pressed against her temple. “Please look at me. See me.” She sounded so sad, so desperate that Aubrey felt new guilt lap at her.

“You’ll disappear. Like you always do when I wake up.” Aubrey licked her dry lips. “I’m not ready… for that yet.” It hurt, oh it hurt to feel her so clearly after months of smoke and shadows. But to lose this dream would be so much worse.

“I won’t disappear.” Another kiss to her temple as a long arm stretched across her stomach. “I promise you.” The sense of comfort – of home – the achingly familiar touch brought was so strong Aubrey’s body relaxed of its own volition.

“I’ve broken my promises so many times… ” Aubrey said wistfully. “I would give anything to go back and do it over. Treat you better – because you deserve nothing but love. Not be ignored or asked to wait a few minutes that stretched late into the night. Show you that nothing else in this entire fucked up world matters but you.”

“Do that now. Open your eyes and look at me, Aubrey.” The whisper in her ear was everything Aubrey wanted to believe. Everything she’d tried to believe before and woke to an empty bed. An empty house. An empty heart.

“I’m afraid to.” Tears slipped from her eyes as she began, for the first time, to wonder.

She was afraid to be alone.

Suddenly terrified she was not.

“Don’t be - I’m here, love.” Lips trailed over the side of her face. “I swear.” Hands took hers and pressed it against a strong and fast beating heart. “I’m here.”

“That’s why I’m afraid,” Aubrey whispered, unable to recognize herself in the broken voice that hung in the air.

“Please.”

Aubrey swallowed thickly as she balanced on the knife edge of indecision.

If she did and Stacie wasn’t there, the weight of loneliness would quite likely crush her.

If Stacie was there… Aubrey’s shame would kill her. She wasn’t proud of who she’d become. She knew she was out of control. She just didn’t care anymore.

If Stacie was actually there… Aubrey could smell the alcohol coming from her own pores. She knew the state of their house. The bottles left carelessly on counters. Take out containers piled up on top of a garbage can too full. She didn’t want to see the disappointment or, worse, the pity.

“I’m ashamed.” She hadn’t meant to say it and wished she could take the words back. “I’ve… I’m not… I don’t deserve…” she trailed off as a sob rose viciously in her chest and all but strangled her as it refused to come out. “You.”

“I love you,” Stacie said softly, still holding Aubrey’s hand against her chest. “We’ll get through this. There’s nothing that we can’t work through as long as we’re together. Nothing is lost forever.”

“You still love me? After… everything?” She didn’t want to believe… couldn’t stop hoping.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Aubrey Posen.” Stacie’s voice was still quiet but the truth in her words was louder than the rush of blood in Aubrey’s ears. “The past three months all I’ve done is miss you. I told myself otherwise, but when Beca called me last night… in hysterics… told me how you didn’t care if you lived or died…” A tremor shook the bed as Stacie’s breath hitched. “Nothing that had happened mattered  anymore. I couldn’t live in a world where you were not. I came right over; Beca let me in. She and Chloe are passed out on the couch and I’ve been watching you sleep, afraid you’d slip away if I closed my eyes.”

“Funny,” Aubrey gave a humorless chuckle. “I’m afraid you’ll slip away if I open mine.”

“I know,” Stacie whispered. “But I’m here, love.”

Aubrey steeled herself. Tried to harden her heart so when she opened her eyes to an empty room it wouldn’t destroy her.

“Before I do, there’s something I have to tell you. While I can. Before you’re gone.” Aubrey took a careful breath. “You are the best part of me, Stacie. I was nothing before you and I’m less than nothing without you. You brought a love into my life I thought I didn’t need and I broke the promises I made when we got married. I took you for granted and mere words cannot express how sorry I am that I hurt you. If you were really here, I would spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of your love.”

Gentle fingers against her cheek followed as Aubrey turned her head, her heart trying to break its way out of the constraints of her ribcage.

“I know, Aubrey… but you already are. We just lost sight of that.” A gentle kiss was placed against her lips. “I promise we’ll be better. Both of us.”

Slowly, as if she were expecting a blow, Aubrey opened her eyes to stare into liquid emerald pools that shimmered with tears. She waited for several seconds, waiting for the mirage to vanish like so many had.

But she didn’t.

Stacie smiled at her, so tenderly that Aubrey’s heart almost broke with the love that welled up inside her.

Wonderingly Aubrey reached up and touched her jaw, tracing one thumb across her lips.

“Stacie?” Hopeful. Terrified.

“Always, my only.” Stacie pulled her in close and Aubrey buried her face in her neck, inhaling deeply as the scent that was uniquely Stacie’s filled her senses. One she had been unable to replicate no matter how much she drank. She shuddered as giant glaciers cracked and fell away, freeing her from the weight that had been pressing on her for months. Years. “Always.”

Real.

Solid.

Hers.

[bechloeleak]

one thought head full . is anyone else thinking about how kendrick read that one (1) dickens novel/babysitters club bechloe fic like did anyone narrow down the options 

also do you think for the second interview she called it sweet & puppy-lovey bc she actually thought of it that way to begin with and described it as slow as hell for the sake of jokes or do u think it was bc she looked back & realized the first time around mightve sounded mean and should be kinder for an interview for an actual lgbt website

[suituuup]

hey, I’m so happy that you’re writing again. Could you write some bechloe angst since you’re so good at those. Maybe about them arguing due to jealousy?

Chloe hated feeling jealous, especially because she knew she could trust Beca with her eyes closed. It’s this… Jenna girl that she didn’t trust. The artist had been all over her girlfriend since they had started working together on her album and well, she was really pretty, and talented and ugh. 

Chloe hadn’t mentioned anything to Beca because it was stupid and childish, instead doing the mature thing to do and letting it simmer in her mind for way too long. The last straw was receiving a text from Beca that night. 

Sorry babe I won’t be home for dinner, Jenna and I are gonna work late. I’ll text you when I leave the office. Love you. 

Chloe didn’t even grace the text with a reply, instead fuming on the couch for the rest of the night as she scrolled through Jenna’s perfect instagram page. God, she looked good even without make-up. 

She pretended to be asleep when Beca came home, knowing she would probably say some things she didn’t mean if they were to talk. The next morning was Saturday, and Chloe was surprised to see that Beca was still in bed when she woke up. For the past few, she had been slammed at the studio working with stupid Jenna. 

She headed out for a run, hoping to blow off some steam, but it only made her thoughts spiral ever more. The smell of coffee was wafting through the apartment when she made it back, and she found Beca at the island, enjoying a cup. 

“Hi,” Beca greeted with a smile. “I was kinda sad you were gone when I woke up.” 

Chloe cleared her throat. “Yeah, I woke up early and decided to go for a run.” She walked past Beca, making a beeline for the coffee cup. 

“Is… everything okay?” Beca asked, twisting on her stool. 

“Peachy,” Chloe muttered. 

“I know I’m not great at picking up on other people’s emotions, but it’s pretty obvious you’re not okay, Chlo.” 

Chloe rolled her eyes, keeping her back to Beca. “Well I’m sorry for being a nuisance.” 

“What?” Beca asked. “Where’s this coming from?” 

“Nothing,” Chloe muttered, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.” 

“Hey,” Beca coaxed as she came closer. “Talk to me?” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Can you let me be the judge of that?” Beca requested as she leaned against the counter, looking at her. “If it’s making you upset, then it’s far from stupid.” 

Chloe sighed, letting her shoulders slump. “I’m… jealous.” 

“Jealous? Of what?” 

A scoff escaped Chloe’s lips before she could reign it in. “God, you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

Beca visibly stiffened. “Okay, can you stop doing that?” She said, her tone clipped. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong here and this isn’t helping, Chlo.” 

“You know what? Nevermind.” She pushed off the counter and started to walk to the bedroom.

“So you’re just going to walk away?” Beca called after her. “Really mature, Chloe!” 

“Ugh,” Chloe groaned in frustration, sucking in a sharp breath to center herself. “I’m not in the mood to talk. You should hit up your precious Jenna.” 

She knew it was a low blow, but she couldn’t help it. 

“Jenna? Is that who this is about?” Beca asked, following her down the hall.

“Ding, ding, ding! We’ve got a winner,” Chloe deadpanned. She whirled around to face Beca. “Of course it’s Jenna! You’ve been spending all of your time with her these past month, Bec!” 

“Doing my job!” Beca exclaimed. “I have to spend time with her if we wanna finish that album.” 

“But she’s all over you!” Chloe nearly shouted. “And you’re being so oblivious about it when it’s clear she’s got a major crush on you.” 

“So what if she does?” Beca asked, looking hurt. “Don’t you trust me?” 

Chloe sighed again, feeling the fight in her making room for that insecurity that had been eating at her for the past couple of weeks. “I do, I just… She’s pretty and talented and I…” A shrug. “I guess I’m scared that one day you’ll realize that you can do much better than me.” 

Beca blinked, the fire in her eyes also dissipating as confusion took over. “Are you being serious?” She asked softly, letting out a sigh herself as she shook her head faintly. “Babe… I’m too busy looking at you and thinking about you all day long to be interested in anyone else,” she said as she crossed the distance between them, her hands settling on Chloe’s hips. “Also, do much better than you? That’s like, not possible. I feel like pinching myself whenever I remember that someone like you chose me.” 

Chloe felt her throat tighten with emotion. “You’re not just saying that? Because she’s like, really pretty, even without make-up.” 

Beca’s eyebrow lifted. “Have you looked in the mirror this morning?” She asked with a chuckle, squeezing her hips. “You have nothing to worry about. And I’m sorry I’ve been spending so much time at work. I promise I’ll do better as soon as we wrap this thing up.” 

“I feel stupid,” Chloe mumbled. “I’m sorry, too” 

“It’s okay,” Beca murmured. “I’m glad we’ve talked about it.” She laughed. “Wow, is that what emotional growth feels like?” 

Chloe giggled. “We’ve come a long way, huh?” 

Beca hummed, leaning in to peck her lips. “I’d say, yeah.” 

[lastchildofkrypton]

The Colors of Paradise

(AKA the Spitfire Grill bechloe AU that no one asked for)

I’m posting this to see if it’s worth continuing... let me know, I guess.

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Chapter One: Ring Around the Moon (approx. 2,290 words)

Beca stares out the small window on the wall beside her bed. It’s the same thing she’s done all day, every day, and most nights, for the last five years. It’s pretty much all there has been to do. Well, that and scratch down the little poems her mind creates while she stares at the bare trees.

She’s always wondered how they’re still standing. There hasn’t been a single leaf on any of the branches in the past five years. Still, the strongest winds haven’t managed to blow them down. She knows there aren’t real seasons in Georgia, not like the ones she always wanted.

The page from the magazine that she ripped out, and stuck to the cement wall, catches her attention. There’s more colors in the trees there than she’s ever seen in her whole life. She found the photo in a travel magazine in the library, almost four and a half years ago. Since then she’s had her mind made up. As soon as she’s able, she’s going there, she’s going to be among the trees, she’s going to breathe fresh air and walk in the mud. She’s going to be happy.

“Mitchell.” A gruff voice, comes from behind her.

She jumps and turns. A large guard is standing on the other side of the iron bars. She stands, on wobbly knees, as if this wasn’t what she’s been waiting for; as if the last five years haven’t been leading up to this moment.

“It’s time. Move it.”

She watches while his keys fight against the rusted lock. She takes a few steps before she goes back to rip the tattered paper off of the wall. She folds it, gently, she isn’t sure it can handle much more before it falls apart completely.

-----

When she takes her first few steps outside of the prison gates, she feels like a baby, walking for the very first time. She’s alone, something she wanted for so long but now that she has it, she isn’t sure what to do with it. She looks up at the moon. It’s the first time she’s seen it, unobscured by bars, in half of a decade and it takes her breath away.

The night is humid, dewy, and it settles against her bare arms and legs. She was given back the same clothes she was wearing that night; the night everything changed. They’re covered in mud, tattered and a little looser than they used to be. She grips the paper bag that was given to her in her clenched fist. It holds the only worldly possessions she has left; a few dollars, a pack of cigarettes that weren’t even hers in the first place, the photo from the magazine, and the few poems she managed to jot down on scrap paper. She doesn’t even have an ID. She has no place to sleep tonight. So she walks.

Her old boots give her blisters but she can’t stop. She just takes step, after step, after step, until she makes it to one of the few places in this janky town that never closes; the convenience store.

The bell rings on top of the door and she was hoping that they still hadn’t gotten it fixed. She walks down the first aisle, filled with canned soups and instant noodles.

Too bulky.

She keeps walking, until she finds the beef jerky. She slips a pack of it into her bag and a small pack of nuts into the top of her boot. She notices a few other people mulling around, and the shelves aren’t high enough to block her. She figures it will have to do.

She walks up to the counter and gives the guy a half smile. He eyes her suspiciously. She doesn’t blame him.

Probably thinks I’m homeless. Shit, I guess he’d be right.

“Yeah?” He asks, when she goes too long without saying anything.

“Uh, right, let me get two number 5’s.”

He lifts an eyebrows but grabs two scratch-off tickets. They’re the dollar ones, the cheapest thing in the store. She digs through the paper bag and pulls out two bills.

“Feeling lucky tonight?”

She shrugs, “Guess you could say that.”

She pulls the tickets out of his fingers when he holds on just a little too tight.

“Have a good night.” He says, now with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah, alright.”

Once she’s out of the store she sits on the curb. She can’t count how many nights she spent in this very spot as a teenager; hiding from her parents, hoping that someone would leave their car alone long enough for her to jump inside and peel off. She pulls the bag of peanuts out of her boot and opens them.

She tosses a few in her mouth before she stands back up. She’s worried if she sits too long, she’ll get stuck; the way she always did. This time things are different, this time she knows exactly where she’s going.

Shit. Which way is it?

The bus station is at the end of a long dirt road. This time of year, it’s mostly mud. She slips a few times but manages to get inside without completely falling on her ass. The kid working the counter looks about twelve years old and she knows this is going to be easier than she thought.

“Can I help you?” He asks, his head down, stuck into a comic book.

She clears her throat, which makes him look up. When he does, his mouth falls open, just slightly and his eyes widen.

“Hey there sugar,” She says, pouring on the southern belle accent.

She learned, at a very young age, that it works wonders.

“I’m hoping that you can help me out.”

“Um,” He clears his throat, “with what exactly?”

“See, I really need a bus ticket out of here, but,” She giggles and pushes her hair behind her ear, “this is real embarrassing, but I lost my wallet.”

“Oh, I can’t…”

He shifts in his seat and she allows her smile to grow. She knows he’s probably used to this. She leans forward, allowing the rips in her shirt to reveal more than she had hoped she would need to. His eyes move down and he swallows; so thick she can hear it over the gentle hum of the fluorescent lights.

“I know you probably get people asking you for favors all the time. But you would be my hero. See, I really need to get out of town. But as soon as I get back I would owe you,” She bites at her bottom lip before she says, “big time.”

His eyes flicker around the terminal, but every time they come back to her. Her eyes and then her chest, then to her lips. He does it several times before leaning closer. She has to fight every instinct to back away.

“Okay, but don’t tell anyone, I’m doing this.”

She smiles and nods.

“Our little secret.”

“Where are you headed?”

This time she’s the one to look around the room, before she says, in an almost whisper,

“Barden, Maine.”

----------

“Rebeca Mitchell?”

“Beca will do.” She says.

She’s just stepped off the bus. She’s startled to hear her name, immediately, through the early morning darkness. The sun is on the cusp of rising but it still feels like the middle of the night. She looks up at the moon, still lingering in the hazy blue light. She takes a deep breath and looks back at the man.

“I’m Sheriff Applebaum.”

“Sheriff.” She says, with a nod.

He reaches out a hand and takes her paper bag. She’s reluctant at first but she falls into step with him. She looks around and realizes that the picture, the one thing she had been holding onto for years, is nothing like what she’s met with.

The bus station is right in the center of town and all around there is nothing but boarded up windows and a single flickering street light.

“I take it the Warden called you?”

She had to give them a destination before she left the prison. They wouldn’t release her without an assigned parole officer. It seems Benjamin Applebaum is the unlucky son-of-a-bitch that’s been stuck with her. And even more unluckily for her, he also happens to be the sheriff.

“He did. I guess I just don’t understand what the hell you’re doing here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Barden isn’t a place worth coming to. It isn’t a place to start a life.”

Beca shakes her head.

“Quite the welcome wagon. You’re the sheriff. Aren’t you supposed to love it here?”

“My job is to protect it, not love it.” He scoffs, “Believe me, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a single person that’s grown up here that loves it; which, like I said, is pretty much everyone here.”

Beca shrugs, she wraps her arms around herself and speaks, a little quieter this time,

“Still gotta be better than where I come from.”

“Georgia, right?”

“Yes sir.”

He turns his head and looks at her. He has a nice smile. That’s not something she’s seen from a man in uniform, or any man, in a long, long time. She actually feels her lips turn up into a smile of her own.

“Sir, was my father. Sheriff will do.”

She laughs, despite everything in her body telling her she shouldn’t get comfortable. She’s held strong walls up around herself for so long, she isn’t sure it’s worth it.

“That was terrible.”

He shrugs, “Barden isn’t necessarily known for it’s hospitality. So I guess, I just don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with you.”

He stops walking. She hadn’t realized it but they’re standing in the middle of the street. She moves her unlaced boot over the crackled, yellow paint. She looks back up at him and he points, with one limp arm.

“There’s a light on over at the diner.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anymore.

A little early for breakfast.

She keeps a few steps behind him now. The morning is moving in now, first light is quickly approaching and she feels a tightness in her chest. She does her best to take a deep breath but she feels like she’s back behind those bars.

One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four-

“Frankie,” Sheriff Applebaum calls out, “I saw the light on. You up, yet?”

“Nope.” A husky, female, voice calls back.

The Sheriff chuckles before he pushes the door open.

“Didn’t think so, you got a minute to talk anyway?”

“Anything for little Benji Applebaum.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. He doesn’t step through the door all the way. Beca keeps her spot on the porch, just outside, staring up at the moon.

Four one-thousand, five one-thousand, six-

“Beca Mitchell. She needs a little of our help.”

“I don’t know how that’s my problem.’

“Frank,” He says, his tone changing to a pleading one, “come on. We both know you could use a little help around here.”

“Fine.” The woman says. “On a trial basis. But if I don’t like her, she’s gone.”

Beca wonders if the woman knows she’s there.

“Perfect.”

The sheriff steps aside and allows Beca inside the diner.

“Beca, this is Frankie, she runs this place.”

None of the lights are on, except one dim one above the counter. It’s small, but well kept. The smell of coffee wafts through the air and Beca is finally able to pull in a deep breath. She keeps it in her chest, unsure if she’ll be able to get another one.

“Well, come on then, I don’t have all day.”

Beca’s eyes fall on the woman’s face. It’s older than she thought it would be. There are cracks around her lips, but no laugh lines, there’s no wrinkles around her eyes, Beca wonders if she’s ever smiled a day in her life.

She follows her down the hall, that comes just off of the back of the dining area. It’s much dingier than the restaurant; painted a pale pink. At the end of the hall there’s a white door. Frankie pushes it open to reveal a tiny room.

“Breakfast will be at five-thirty. Work starts at six sharp. Gives you about twenty minutes to get ready.”

She doesn’t wait for a response. She closes the door behind her when she leaves and Beca feels like she’s right back in Georgia, right back in that prison. She finally lets the rest of the breath leave her body and she grips at the paper bag that the sheriff handed back to her at some point.

Six one-thousand, seven one-thousand, eight-

She looks around the room; at the dresser she has no clothes to put inside. At the bookshelf that she has no books to fill it with. But, in the corner, there’s a rickety old writing table. She pulls her poems from the paper bag, and places them on top. When she turns, her heart jumps. There’s a small window on the far wall.

She steps forward and stares out of it. She doesn’t look away from it. She moves her hand around inside the paper bag to find what she’s searching for. The old magazine page. She unfolds it, and only looks away from the window long enough to remind herself of the image; as if it isn’t burned into her brain. It’s what she pictures, every night, when she closes her eyes.

When she looks out the window again, the trees are there, just like in the picture, just outside the window. Her window. It takes her, only a moment, to realize that this window has something incredibly special about it:

There’s no bars.

[mcrololo]

okay now i’m curious, bc you reblogged that “every writer has their own brand of themes” post and you’ve read most if not all of my stories and i know how your brilliant mind works so - what’s mine? 👂🍿

Oh man that is a very interesting question. I would love to give you a more in depth answer to this some day because for this I think I would need to reread some of your work (you know, poor memory et al), but with a short trip down memory lane from your page I can say for one thing is your strongest brand is opposites.

Not just Beca and Chloe, there was one particular fic you started with grumpy Beca and her dad being in a good mood, and it was a very strong start imo. That in and of itself was already an opposite. But you emphasize the opposing characteristics in Bechloe really well!

That being said, while you have made their differences your own, you have also mastered the art of mirroring these two characters, and I think playing these two things off of each other is a fine line to walk. There needs to be a perfect balance, and you manage to find it every time.

I don't really have the right words right now, but mirroring is also hard to do at the risk of making it inauthentic to both characters. You might blend them too much together. But with you, Beca still feels like Beca and Chloe still feels like Chloe, because they do things their own way, even if they have the same problems, you know?

Anyway, I'm not really used to analyzing fanfic this way lmao. Usually I do this through character analysis so I hope this is at least a bit like what you expected 🙏 but again, I'd have to reread (and sadly I'm going through a readers slump)

[sunshine-and-raincloud]

Some thoughts about my favorite piece of fiction that I needed to put into words

Experimentation is finished and it makes me feel things. So many things, in fact, that my brain has trouble computing it. If there was a dictionary stored in my mind’s library, filled with my own definitions for every object, concept, or being I’ve encountered in my life, the entry to Experimentation would be a long string of keysmashes and random emojis.

There are words inside Beca. She's confident enough in her vocabulary to say that there are a decent amount of them, though she can't always remember which one is the right one to use and when or how. They're all there though, she has access to them.

Usually

Alas, I need to make at least some sense of it – for myself, to process the fact that the story that has been a constant for me for years is now finished. Naturally, finished does not mean gone, and I’m sure I will be re-reading this wonderful piece of fiction many, many times, but there is certain grief to be processed nonetheless.

I’ve never been one to have hyperfixations. Growing up, I never had strong favorites of anything, be it books, tv shows, songs, etc. I enjoyed things, I got excited over them, but nothing could ever capture my interest and hold it for a long time.

Startled, Beca blinks as she untangles herself from the redhead and looks around. Sure enough, there are other people besides Chloe present – Cynthia Rose, Stacie and Lilly, to be exact – and she tries to withhold her embarrassment in favour of pretending she'd know that all along. That she hadn't been blinded by Chloe.

This changed when I accidentally discovered bechloe. The Pitch Perfect franchise is not especially popular in my country and I, similarly to Beca Mitchell, am not very fond of movies, so I was not aware of the existence of the said movies until I watched a Rose&Rosie video in which they mentioned it in passing. It sounded like something I could enjoy, so I decided to check it out and the rest is history; I fell into the bechloe hole. I was 19 at that time—technically an adult, about to start uni, and there I was, developing my first (and so far only) obsession, as well as joining my first fandom. I’d read some fanfiction before that, for a few other fandoms, but I’d never shipped two characters as intensely as I do Beca and Chloe.

So naturally, as soon as I finished watching the movies (there were two, at that time), I went looking for fanfiction. I read through the completed ones first—not all of them, obviously (even back then there were...a lot of fics), but I’d say the majority of multichapters—so it took quite a while before I even considered starting any of the unfinished ones.

“Awesome.” She mutters, clicking down furiously on the mouse pad in the hopes that doing so will magically make her laptop thaw its way back from freezing glitchiness. Maybe her dad would buy her a new one if she told him she needed it for school.

“If this is some new way you have of announcing my presence to the room,” red hair and a sly smile greet her as she looks up and finds Chloe lingering at the top of the staircase, “I like it.”

I don’t know when exactly I first started reading Experimentation, but it must have been either 2017 or early 2018 at the latest. I’ve been eyeing the story for a while, as it was on the first page on ff.net (the only fic site I knew at that time—shameful, I know) when filtered by favorites, so I expected it to be good. Having finished the first chapter, I could already tell that it was not, in fact, good.

(On the off chance that anyone is actually reading my stream of consciousness, I shall explain myself before I get hate anons. See, to say that Experimentation is a good story is like saying that Aretha Franklin was a good singer. Ridiculous understatement is what it is.)

"I could carry around like a little white flag and wave it around at the appropriate time?" Chloe bursts out laughing at the image, at the way Beca has made a fist with her hand and is flicking an imaginary flag back and forth, at the stupid too-wide smile she's plastered onto her face. She laughs because she believes, without a shadow of a doubt, that Beca would do that if Chloe asked her to.

I was absolutely enchanted, hooked from the very first paragraphs. Every aspect of this fic was beyond perfect; the language, the pacing, the characterization, the romantic tension with no unnecessary drama. I’ve devoured all the chapters there were at that time, as stopping was impossible once I started. Once I got to the last one, I wondered briefly whether I should have waited until the story was finished.

I am so incredibly thankful to my past self that I did not.

Waiting for updates for months was hard, sure. But it made me appreciate every single chapter all the more. It allowed me to savor every sentence, enjoy every tender moment between the girls. And the joy I felt whenever I would get an email notifying me that Experimentation was updated? Unparalleled. I still have a folder in my mailbox created specifically to house these notifications.

“Thank you,” Chloe’s words of appreciation swing Beca’s gaze back up to her face and she finds the redhead looking at her with such a sense of solemn gratitude that it upends any potential response. Thankfully, Chloe continues. “For everything. Not just,” she gestures between them, “this but….” Chloe trails off, running the fingers of one hand through her hair as she tries to collect herself. “For joining the Bellas. For coming back even though Aubrey was awful to you. For making us important to you.”

You are important to me , Beca wants to say. The most important.

I can’t even imagine reading Experimentation for the first time in one go. A few weeks, months maybe, if one’s busy, and that’s it? That is not nearly long enough to be able to fully appreciate this masterpiece. I started reading it a few years after its first update, but still, Experimentation was with me for long years. It was there, sitting in a tab on my phone when I started university. It was there, five years later, when I graduated and then defended my MA thesis. It was there when I moved out of my parents’ house, moved to a new city, found my first job. And it was there, on the first day of 2022, when I read the last chapter.

During this last chapter I cried three times—one was at the author’s note. What an incredible journey it has been. Now that there’s only an epilogue left, I am sad that it’s over because it’s been such an important part of my life. But mostly I am just filled with love for Experimentation. Just because it is completed, doesn’t mean it is gone or forgotten. I know it will always be special to me, a source of comfort whenever I need it.

“You’re a ten,” Chloe says again and now Beca can hear the warble in her voice. Can feel it like something tangible as it reaches inside her chest and squeezes. Catches her breath in its hand and holds it. “You’re an A-plus.” It’s only when Chloe lifts her hands to wipe at the underside of her eyes that Beca realises she’s crying, sees the shimmer of tears on her fingers as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I love you so much.” Her voice catches, stumbles over a sob in the middle of her declaration, but she powers on through. Doesn’t hold back. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

@redlance, you absolute queen, what could I possibly say to you? You took a piece of your heart, shaped it into this beautiful story, and shared it with hundreds of strangers who now hold it in their own hearts. If there are any words appropriate for that, I do not know them. So let me simply say thank you and I love you <3

[captainvoyager]

Bechloe

Ship It

What made you ship it?

The actors have chemistry. They are fun to watch playing off of each other. They made choices as characters that were romantic in nature even if the movies played them off as otherwise.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Outside of the plot of Beca having a job and not telling Chloe - which is a very dumb plotline and them both having an acid trip and allowing Fat Amy on silks - they really do tend to just get each other. It was always natural for them to be around each other, even after they left school.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

They suck at talking when they aren't already on the same page. They can not find the same page if not already in the same place with a map, flashlights and a tour guide.

[redwolfqueen19]

Day 18:

Umm again I’m pretty new on here so don’t have many ppl to tag but here we go.

Here’s some mentions of cool ppl who’s work or posts have made me happy in my short time on tumblr:

- @lena-luthor your series of supergirl season 6 gifs was the first thing I reblogged and it made me smile 😁 (can’t wait for it to come out in the uk I’m desperately trying to avoid spoilers 😅)

- @eimaginesworld wrote an awesome swanqueen one shot and ppl should definetly check them out

- @buckyshairography for blessing my page with funny af MCU memes that made me giggle

- @massivedrickhead for the amazing “home is a person” bechloe fanfic (please go read it it’s so good!) and is just a nice person too

- @commanderlexagriffin has a cool Spider-Man bechloe au fic that I can’t wait for the next chapter like I’m srsly hooked, and was so lovely to message 😁

- @pocketdragon “make some room” bechloe fanfic is great 😊

- @astraldemise for that cool sea slug video that made me smile and I alway watch when I’m having a bad day 😁 showed it to my family and they thought it was cool

- @blue-dragon-has-a-pen for kickass dragon designs like that shit is cool

- @writing-prompt-s for giving me countless prompt ideas that ill save and keep pretending to myself that ill actually get off my ass and write something for the prompts XD (also the prompts are super fun to read i always imagine scenes to them and then like never end up writing them)

And just generally all the other awesome ppl on this all that I just haven’t had the chance to discover yet 😊 yall are great

Happy pride ppl, Be Gay and all that lovely stuff and remember your loved ❤️

[josy1986]

Hooking Up: Pitch Perfect AU Finished!

Jesus christ this proved to be more difficult than I’d thought! Ok, I gotta say I used my artistic freedom A LOT, but *shrugs* if you can do better, goodluck writing xD

It proved to be too long to completely post it here but the entire chapter will be posted on my AO3 page where I post everything else ^^

@pitchslapped @rejection-isnt-failure @dammiteliza (this was your request I believe)

Hooking Up: Pitch Perfect AU

Chloe felt giggy as she walked around the bedroom of Beca’s first love, the two of them had broken into the massive house to recreate Beca’s first time.

Chloe hardly remembered her first time, she was 16 and still going to high school. She remembered it was over before it really began, probably because the guy she was with came a minute after they started.

Perhaps he was nervous, perhaps it was his first time, Chloe didn’t remember, she didn’t care to be fair. Her first time with a woman was different, she was 18 then and the woman in question knew exactly what she was doing, getting both of them off at the same time. Of course after that, Chloe never saw the woman again. There had been many others she’s been with since then, no relationships, no affection, no touchy feely kind of situations. Just sex.

She liked it that way, she got what she wanted and left, usually leaving the guy hanging with his ever present boner.

Beca’s first time however was the opposite from Chloe’s. Beca’s ex was gentle and a few years older than the brunette. A bit more experienced or that’s how Beca called it at least. Beca’s ex was also a woman.

Chloe walked deeper into the modern furnitured room and flopped down on the bed, letting out a hum of approval at the feel of soft sheets. 

“Damn… she sure enjoys her luxury.” She chuckled and turned around on the bed, now laying on her back. She pushed herself into a sitting position and settled on the edge, pulling Beca closer and started to undo her belt buckle.

Beca just took both of Chloe’s hands and the redhead looked up in confusion. “No, if we’re recreating my first experience, we’ll do it my way.” Beca whispered, looking down at Chloe who pulled her hands back gently in surrender.

“Alright…” She agreed and settled back down on the bed, her shoes removed and discarded somewhere on the floor. She watched Beca remove her own shoes and crawled onto the mattress with her.

“Well, since we can’t recreate it completely, I’ll be acting as my ex and you’ll be me in this scenario.” She said, clearing her throat. The seriousness of the brunette’s features caused Chloe’s heartbeat to quicken. 

What the hell… calm the fuck down, its just sex… Chloe told herself but swallowed hard when Beca settled flush with her body. When Beca tried to cup her cheek, Chloe let out a nervous snort which was louder than she had intended.

“Chloe…” Beca said seriously, but there was a gentle smile present on her face.

“I’m sorry..!” She whispered. “You’re so serious about this.” She whispered, playfully biting her lower lip.

“Well we were serious then, so I’m serious now.” There was a warmth in Beca’s voice that Chloe never noticed before and the redhead nodded.

“Alright, I’ll be serious too then..” She promised and Beca just rolled her eyes playfully. 

Slowly, Beca started to unbutton Chloe’s shirt, revealing soft skin and a black bra underneath. Chloe stated softly how much she sucked at it and started to unbutton Beca’s shirt in return, the brunette smiled but didn’t stop her.

Beca sat up a bit straighter once her shirt was all the way open, removing it and tossed it away where it landed somewhere on the floor. She removed her own bra and disregarded it in the same manner as her shirt. Beca raised an amused eyebrow when she saw Chloe swallow. I guess she likes the view.

Beca crawled back on the bed, once again she settled right next to her partner in crime. Her naked chest flush against Chloe’s.

Chloe watched Beca closely, tracking her every move and felt her nerves getting the better of her. She’s had sex before, lots of times and with many different people, but this? This was completely new to her. Being gentle, taking it slow, enjoying the feel of someone else’s body against your own. What surprised her the most was that she didn’t want to rush things either. She wanted Beca to take her time.

Beca’s hand tenderly caressing her, fingertips sliding from Chloe’s face, down her neck between the valley of her breasts and settled on her stomach. Dark blue eyes looked down and bore into icy blue ones. Then, Beca leaned down, closing the gap between the two. Chloe’s eyes widened and when Beca was not even half an inch away from her, she flinched and turned her head slightly in reflex. Her chest rising and falling faster ever so slightly while panic took a hold onto her heart.

Beca pulled back slightly, a worried expression on her features. “Is this okay..?” She asked, the words only meant for Chloe and the redhead stiffened beneath Beca’s body.

She had done many things known to mankind, done anything there is to do under the sun but not kissing.

Kissing someone required a new level of intimacy, one Chloe never experienced before. People who kiss are in love, or at least that’s what the movies and stories make you believe. Chloe didn’t believe in love, didn’t believe she deserved such kind and gentle gestures with a past like hers. The things she’s done, the people she hurt, Chloe accepted it and yet somehow… Beca looked down at her, such worry in her dark blue eyes. The tenderness present in those blue orbs made Chloe feel something she never did before, she felt her heart ache. Ache to be touched, to be loved, to be cared for and to be wanted for more than just a quick fuck.

A warm hand gently cupped Chloe’s cheek, breaking Chloe’s train of thoughts and she tried to swallow the thick lump of nerves that started to grow in her throat. Only now did she realize that she was holding her breath, unsure of what to do next while her heart was hammering behind her breasts. One arm was trapped under Beca’s body but she used it to hold the brunette close, her fingertips pressed firmly against the muscles of Beca’s back. Her other hand rested on Beca’s shoulder and while she took a shuddering breath, she finally nodded at the brunette’s question.

Chloe watched how Beca leaned down, slower this time, as if giving Chloe the time she needed to adjust to the situation, or perhaps to give her time to push her away if she really wanted to. But Chloe didn’t push Beca away, nor did she recoil or flinch when soft lips were pressed against her own.

Continue to read the rest of the chapter here and here 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674369/chapters/70673697 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13791687/2/Pitch-Perfect-Bechloe-moments-and-more

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe Apocalypse AU? I know it's been done before, but damn, do I love a good trope.

[A/N: This prompt has been in my inbox for a long time and I’m just now getting to it. But the main idea is from @auideas] 

Read on AO3 | Request Prompts here 

Beca was always the first to stir in the morning. It wasn’t by the light that streamed through the blinds, but her own biological clock that did it. A seven am on the dot, she would wake and stretch and feel her fingers met with the cold of the house. The blinds were drawn and a little slit of yellow, or sometimes gray depending on the weather, mapped itself on the wooden floor.

They hadn’t done much to the old Victorian manor at the edge of town. It came furnished and the only thing they bothered changing was the sheets on the four-post bed and the towels in the closet. They smelled so thickly of must that Beca made the begrudging trip into town for supplies.

Beca would pad down to the kitchen on the creaky wooden stairs and flicked on the coffee maker. She reveled in the darkness, in the cool relief from the South Carolina air. They kept the central unit on high and thick curtains over nearly every pane of glass in the house.

Chloe would stir an hour after her wife.

Maybe it was the absence of heat or her own lungs filling with dark roast. She followed the scent and grasped at the paper set on the kitchen table. She would skip to the sports section first but would always return to the front page for whatever story they deemed import enough.

“Ah, a firefighter with a cat.” She creased the paper “Charming and quaint.”

Beca grunted as she stood on her toes to grasp two mugs. They also came with the house, covered in dust until she scrubbed them. A cartoonish illustration of teddy bears dawned the front and she couldn’t bring herself to read the cheesy sayings past their first week in the Victorian.

She didn’t’ want to get to know the people in town. It was small enough that she got questioning stares from the gas station clerk whenever they ran out of allergy medication or on the rare occasion, milk. He bit his tongue but studied her face. Doveport South Carolina. Not even on the map.

Chloe figured that this is where people went to disappear. Not when they had fresh blood on their palms and dirt under their nails, but when the dust had settled, and they needed a place to ride out the storm. People lived on boats and deep in the swampy woods. They bought foreclosed homes with cash. They barely went outside, and hell- the air was too stiff.

“Did he pull it from a tree?” Beca asked.

“A storm drain, actually,” Chloe said.

The shorter of the two set down a steaming cup in front of her wife. It was loaded with French vanilla creamer and too much sugar for Beca to stomach. She swallowed two gulps of black coffee and cupped her hands around it to keep in the warmth. The house had to be cold. Though, her nose suffered the most from the stark temperature.

Chloe hummed into the steam rising from her drink “Coleman is supposed to drop of the sample today.”

“Coleman is s douche.”

“A douche with a sample. And besides, he won’t even come into the house. The light is too much for anyone to handle, much less the test slides. He’ll drop it by the greenhouse and be on his way.”

“I don’t even want him in my vicinity, Chlo. His male testosterone permeates the air.”

Chloe didn’t’ dignify Beca’s dramatics with a response. It reminded her of the days when she would run around on playgrounds, crunching over mulch and trying to get away from the boys with cooties. But then she had become a biochemist and even well before that, knew that that’s not how things spread.

Not cooties anyway. Maybe the flu or a common cold, but the only thing men were good for in this century was transporting what they needed. People in Doveport never gave a man a second look. Not when they dawned a hat and had grease on their hands. They wouldn’t question his duffel bag or the scent of gunpowder.

Beca went to take another sip of her coffee but stopped mid gulp when the familiar hum of the central cooling system sputtered to a stop. They had grown so used to the noise and the icy atmosphere. She exchanged a worried look with her wife and lowered the cup. “Well shit.”

“Was it supposed to storm today?”

“No. I checked.” Beca tapped the paper absently before pulling herself from the kitchen table. They didn’t’ have much time before their backup generators would kick on. But those hadn’t either. Not yet. Why hadn’t they? Fuck.

Chloe must have had the same thought. Worry crossed her features before she padded across the kitchen and pulled the door to the basement open. She creaked down the steps and was instantly overwhelmed by the heat that had already begun to fill the sod-coated room.

There weren’t basements in the south. Not usually but they had chosen the old Victorian because it had one in the first place. She walked towards the line of tables that were usually lit by a bluish-purple light. Those had gone off too.

In the stumbling darkness she grasped the samples carefully and placed them in the large freezer under the stairs. The ice that incrusted it wouldn’t’ last long but hopefully this power outage wouldn’t either.  She sealed it. She prayed about it too but wouldn’t’ let Beca know about that.

Science was magic and magic was science and religion fell somewhere in between but it eased her mind to speak to a higher power regardless.

“Chlo! I think you should see this!”

She didn’t waste any time sprinting up the slotted stairs and leaving the musty basement behind. Sweat had formed against her cheeks and made her skin tight when it hit whatever cold air was left in the nearly empty living room. Beca had peeled the blackout curtain back and the light stung her eyes.

“You opened the window?” Chloe asked.

“I was curious.” Beca Said.

Chloe sighed and squeezed close to her partner before she herself pulled back the dark cloth just an inch. Her heart rushes faster and there was a heat leaking through the windows. She hated the south and the lack of silence that it held onto.

It was the same street that she saw once or twice a month when she ventured from the house. There was another house across the way that had been empty since they arrived. There was a cop that lived next door and a nice family adjacent to them. But right now- there was blood.

The patrol car that usually sat in the driveway was turned on its side and a mass of guts and blood and teeth stirred in the front driveway. She saw fingers flick and smelled fire, or gas, or a mix of both. It made her throat burn.

A stranger, a man in fishing waders had half of his face missing and a dead look behind his yellowed eyes. He limped and groaned tepidly, continuing like he was going on a stroll. His jaw swung back and forth as a clock and Chloe grimaced.

“Well damn.” She let the curtain fall, “This is bullshit we were so close.”

“I know, but someone else was closer.”

Beca walked back towards the kitchen and grasped her now chilled cup of coffee. She finished it off and grabbed the newspaper, looking at the smiling face of the firefighter with a burnt-looking cat in his arms. It was filthy and its fur was matted. She frowned and placed it back on the table.

“Damn government funding. If I could have just gotten my hands on the Amscope.” She grimaced “we’re going to buy you a whole house but you can use a magnifying glass to create a zombie virus.”

“The institution is counting on you, Miss Mitchell.” Chloe mocked.

“Doctor Mitchell, I swear, they always forget that part. You know what we can’t forget? The nine years of our life that we spent getting degrees in science and then another three years held up in this place creating a bioweapon that we didn’t even get to release.”

Chloe lifted her eyebrows and leaned against the adjacent kitchen wall. She had to admit, it was a little disappointing. A letdown after all of this time. But she felt a bit of relief well up inside of her. They would send an extraction team for them at some point and then maybe they would be directed to create a cure. Maybe.

“I think we should get a cat,” Chloe said, picking up the paper and wiggling it towards her wife. “Look at his cute little face.”

“Mm, before or after the apocalypse?” Beca asked.

“During, probably,” Chloe said. “I’d consider a dog.”  

[cycwrites]

Switching Gears Part 10 - Family

Here it finally is, the last chapter. I don't know if I would've finished this without the support of a lot of people, @tiny-maus-boots and @kimmania being at the top of that list.

Thank you to everyone who has taken this journey with me. I love you all and hope you enjoyed the ride! (Ha, dirty.)

Staubrey with side Bechloe.

Words: 5,500ish

Rating: No smut in this one - does that make it Teen+?

AO3   FFN    Tumblr Master Post

-----

Family

~S~

“Did I hear Chloe correctly this morning? You’re all going to be moving in together?” Emily threw popcorn towards Stacie’s mouth and gave a fist bump when it made it in. “Because I actually think that would be awesome.”

“No, you did not.” Stacie said once she finished chewing. “You overheard the end of a conversation about another conversation Aubrey and I had last night while naked and distracted.”

She was feeling very content, very playful and extremely relaxed after spending a few more hours naked with Aubrey after her last class. Not to say she didn’t want to drag Aubrey off into her bedroom for round whatever count they were up to, but she could wait until the rest were gone tomorrow.

Maybe.

“Oh my god. Gross!” Emily slammed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, hunching down into the armchair. “Why did you have to say that?”

“You asked,” Chloe said as she came walked into Stacie’s living room with the stack of pizza boxes that had just been delivered and set them in the middle of the coffee table. “Of course she’s going to answer. Oops, we need plates and napkins.” She turned to the kitchen.

“Because I didn’t know the context! I wouldn’t have asked if I had!” Emily complained to Chloe’s retreating back, setting the popcorn bowl on the table as well. “I could’ve lived without the context.” She picked up another piece of popcorn and threw it at Stacie. “You are a terrible cousin.”

Beca was walking back from the bathroom as it arced overhead and she snagged it out of the air and popped it into her mouth. Just as neatly, Stacie’s arms reached out and yanked Beca down to sprawl across her lap.

“Hey!” Beca flailed for a second before realizing she wasn’t falling anymore. “I am not Aubrey, why are you cuddling me?”

“You were there and stole my popcorn.” Stacie shrugged, not knowing what spurred her impulse but happy with the outcome. Beca’s head drew back and she stared at her, wide eyed and Stacie’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Even if it weren’t already chewed and swallowed, I would not be giving you back the popcorn from my mouth!” She blinked at her and then at Aubrey when she pulled Beca’s legs into her lap where she was seated on Stacie’s right. “Seriously?” But she didn’t get up and that acceptance made Stacie happy.

“You three look adorable, by the way. The real question is,” Chloe asked as she rejoined them with a stack of paper plates and a roll of paper towels. “Would you have tried to hand it back to her or let her come after it herself - without using her hands?” She set them down on the table before sitting cross-legged on the floor next to it in front of the empty spot on the couch where Beca had originally been sitting. “And can Aubrey and I watch.”

“Why did I agree to this?” Emily groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I knew not a single one of you would behave. Each of you individually are worse than the sum of all the sex crazed teens in my high school and now that your powers are combined you’re unstoppable.”

“I wouldn’t say we’ve combined yet,” Chloe said and then, in the same breath, “Here’s some pizza, Em.”

Sighing Emily dropped her hands and took the offered plate. “I am still totally leaving after the movie, by the way. I am not staying the night in the hormone hotel.”

“But you’ll miss out on Aubrey’s French toast in the morning!” Beca rubbed her belly. “No one should ever turn that down.”

“It’ll be okay, Em. You and I can share Stacie’s bed, Stacie can have the couch and Beca and Aubrey can have the spare room,” Chloe said, handing a loaded plate to Aubrey.

“Why do I get the couch?” Stacie pouted, squeezing Beca like she was a stuffed animal.

“Because it’s your house, Bucky, and we’re the guests.” Beca patted her arms then reached for the plate that Chloe was holding out. Chloe caught Stacie’s eye and winked in amused affection as she looked up at the two of them. “It’s only polite.”

Bemused, Stacie pushed her lip out in a pout. “But why can’t I share my own bed with Emily and Chloe? We’ve done that plenty of times.”

“So Aubrey can sneak out and share the couch with you, obviously.” Beca paused with a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth as she realized they were watching her. “Why are all of you staring at me?”

“Because we’re wondering how long it’s going to take you to realize you’re still in Stacie’s lap,” Aubrey told her sweetly.

“I’m what?” Beca looked down as the rest of them burst into laughter. “Holy shit. Why… how… the fuck?”

“Because she’s comfy to snuggle with,” Emily told her, beaming. “She used to hold me when I was sick and sing to me. It’s the only time I felt better until it had passed.” She sighed mournfully. “I really missed that when she moved.”

“Okay that… is adorably cute,” Beca pointed at her. “And you’re not wrong about the comfy. But I am not eating pizza in your lap. Can I have my legs back, Aubrey?”

“I suppose,” Aubrey sighed dramatically and lifted her arms as Beca set her plate on the table.

Stacie helped Beca out of her lap and to her feet, swatting her rear since it was right there and she was never one to pass up opportunity. Beca spun around to glare at her, giving Aubrey the chance to reach out and pinch her while Chloe ran a hand up the inside of her thigh. Beca yelped and jumped backward, thankfully missing the coffee table though only by mere inches.

“I hate all of you.” She went the long way around the table. “Except Emily. She hasn’t assaulted my person.” She took her seat next to Aubrey and shoulder bumped her. “Can you hand me my plate babe?”

As Aubrey leaned over to get it she shared a smile with Stacie. “She loves me.”

“I know I do,” Stacie said softly, tucking a strand of Aubrey’s hair behind her ear as she handed Beca’s plate to her.

“Yeah?” Aubrey turned back to her with a shy smile. The rest of the conversation swirled around them but Stacie ignored it for the moment as Aubrey leaned back toward her. “Then you won’t mind if I sneak out to the couch to make out in the middle of the night?”

Stacie tilted her head and leaned forward the extra inch to slide their lips together. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” She hummed as several throats cleared around them. “I think we’ve got an audience again.”

Aubrey shrugged. “I’m getting used to it.” She sat back up and they both ignored the grins they were getting.

Chloe had settled against Beca’s legs and gave Stacie a quick wink. “Okay, but Emily does have a point.”

“That you’re all too horny for my mental state?” Emily stuck her tongue out when Stacie flipped her off.

“That we should all live together.” Chloe took a drink of her soda when Beca snorted. “Ever since you said it this morning it’s been in my mind.”

“I actually… kind of agree,” Aubrey said thoughtfully.

“You do?” Stacie turned and brought her leg up underneath her to face Aubrey fully. “You sound actually serious.” Not that she was against it and in fact had loved the idea since the night before. It just felt right and made so much damn sense to her. But she had thought the others had considered everything they’d said this morning as just four friends goofing around and teasing each other.

“I am,” Aubrey shrugged and wiped her lips with a paper towel. “I mean, think about it. It may be too soon to be this sure about things, but I get the feeling you and I are going to be spending more time together than apart, at one of our houses. Life would be simpler if we moved together.”

“Okay, okay. This is faster than even the worst lesbian U-Haul joke,” Beca pointed out. “You can’t be serious.”

Chloe turned and put her arm on Beca’s legs. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me as often as possible?” She gave Beca a patented Chloe Beale Pout that never failed to make Stacie cave and it looked like Beca was going to be no exception.

Beca made a face. “If anyone else had said that to me I’d already be out the door calling an Uber. That is a danger sign of clingy and I don’t do clingy.” She reached down and stroked her fingertips through Chloe’s hair before curling a lock around her finger. “But since you said it… It’s barely been a day but… you’re not wrong and I don’t think I can argue too much.”

“Not right away, of course.” Aubrey said after another bite. “But like, maybe in six months we see where things stand and think about it then.”

“You think you’ll get tired of me in six months?” Stacie pouted again, not even remotely serious and making sure it showed. She had no doubts that they were on the same page there. Something this big required a lot of real conversations, serious ones, despite the fact that her heart said they weren’t necessary.

“Never know,” Aubrey said airily. “I could find someone better in bed.” Beca almost choked on her mouthful of pizza and Aubrey turned to pat her on the back. “Sorry Beca.”

Beca coughed for another few seconds then gratefully took the can of soda Chloe handed her. “Never try to ugly laugh while you’re eating pizza. The cheese tried to go down the air hole and that’s a bitch to get back out.”

“Did you just say ‘air hole’?” Chloe let out a giggle and shook her head. “That’s your go to? ‘Air hole’?”

“It’s so much easier to remember in the moment than ‘windpipe’,” Beca shrugged and took another bite, chewing carefully. “When I was little I called it a blowhole because my parents took me on a whale watching boat once and their spray was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

“You… are priceless and I am definitely in love with you.” Chloe tilted her head up and without hesitation despite the instant blush to her cheeks, Beca leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “So you’re not allowed to choke on food in your air hole anymore.”

“Aw,” Emily cooed. “This was almost worth the mental scarring I know I’m about to get tonight.” She batted away the paper towel Chloe threw at her without looking.

Aubrey leaned against Stacie’s side. “So, for the record, since we’re in front of our best friends and family.” Stacie looked at her, brows knitting in confusion. “I will forever be grateful that you were the one who innocently parked your bike in my slot.”

Beca let out a high pitched snicker that she quickly muffled with her napkin. “Sorry.” She set down her pizza and waved with her other hand. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not, B. You said it that way just to trigger her gutter mind, didn’t you?” Stacie laughed when Aubrey only grinned at her. “But you still want to wait six months before living with me?”

“It’s the sane thing to do,” Aubrey sighed. “While I’ve talked to Emily and Chloe for a couple years, that’s still different than really starting to get to know them this past day. And you…” Aubrey put her left hand on Stacie’s thigh and squeezed. “I know we said it earlier but really, we’ve only spent maybe a combined 24 hours in each other’s presence.” She gave Stacie a soft smile that caused her heart to pang and beat faster. “But… no. I don’t want to wait. It’s stupid and impulsive but I would move in with you tomorrow if it were possible.”

“I mean, it is.” Beca shrugged when they all looked at her. “You just have to figure out which house you want and sell the other. The bitch is that you’d still have to pay for it until it sold.” She sat back, her plate on her lap. “Which is ultimately the same thing you’ll be doing even if you kept separate houses anyway – you’d just lose the safety net of having a backup house once it sells.” She pursed her lips. “Suppose you could always do short term rentals to folks if you’re really worried about compatibility and don’t want to lose the house. But if we’re really going to do this – and honestly it sounds like fun until it goes horribly wrong – might as well just wait and we all move at once. I think I’ve only got three months left on my current agreement anyway.”

“A good point, Starfish.” Beca made a face as Stacie looked down at Chloe, struck by a thought. “You also like to somehow take up more than your share of the bed –”

“Which is ‘fun’ when the three of us have a sleepover,” Emily added with a roll of her eyes. “Somehow I wake up with Stacie’s arm over my face or her knee in my back.”

“Sorry, Em.” Stacie said contritely though she smiled at the memories. “But I was more just curious how that’d work when you’re both fighting for maximum sprawl space.”

“Just means we’ll have to get a bigger bed,” Chloe said easily. “I may have gotten bored at work and done a casual search after talking earlier.” Beca perked up and opened her mouth but was interrupted.

“Nope.” Emily said immediately. “I don’t need the exact context to know I don’t want to know.”

“Probably best,” Chloe patted her leg comfortingly. “But… back to Aubrey’s point about waiting.”

“I hate that I made it,” Aubrey sighed. “It’s that stupid lawyer part of my brain that thinks things through to the point where it’s all mapped out and there’s no spontaneity. Getting away from that is why I moved.”

“That was an impulse that worked out.” Beca turned to her. “And not just because you met me and I’m fucking awesome. You’ve made a new life here and I know how much you hated your old one as a drone.”

“I love how confident you are,” Stacie said through a laugh.

“You’re saying I’m not fucking awesome?” Beca’s eyebrows went up.

Stacie decided to answer that as stated and not as her brain wanted her to because Emily would laugh first but probably just get up and walk out the door. “I didn’t say that. I knew from the second we met that we were going to be great friends one day.”

“You mean ‘day one’,” Beca nodded with satisfaction. “I feel the same about you, Bucky.”

“One of us needs to have the ability to hit the brakes,” Chloe offered. “And it’s going to take us a while to find a place that would suit all of us.” Aubrey started nodding slowly. “Assuming we all agreed to actually do it.” She shifted so she could look at them and Emily equally without having to crane her neck around. “And I’m in, by the way – I’m so in. I think it would be fun to have you all as roommates.”

“What about you, Em?” Stacie asked, reaching for another slice of pizza and setting it on her plate while she leaned back.

“Me?” Emily shook her head rapidly. “No, no way.”

“What?” Stacie frowned. “Seriously?” That definitely wasn’t the answer she had expected.

“Seriously.”

“She does sound Dixie Chick Serious,” Beca said casually, not even flinching when Aubrey thumped her in the leg. Stacie smiled as she remembered singing what she’d already begun thinking of as their song to Aubrey before falling asleep.

“Unless my bedroom had the best soundproofing in the world, there’s no way I would live with the four of you.” Emily shook her head. “While I will be over almost every single night, I will definitely be going home to sleep.”

“What about a house with one of those detached in-law apartments or guest house?” Aubrey said reasonably and the room fell silent as they all considered.

Stacie had been about to teasingly whine about wanting her favorite cousin close but all she could do was look at Aubrey in awe. “Oh my god you’re brilliant.” She got a shy grin in response and a pat on her thigh.

Emily chewed thoughtfully on the last of her crust. “Actually… that’s… not a bad idea.”

“Woo!” Stacie held up her hand toward her cousin, just out of reach. “Air high five!”

“You two are such dorks and I love you,” Chloe laughed as the two of them slapped the air in front of them. She lifted the lid of the pizza box so Emily could take another piece.

“Between the five of us we should be able to afford something like that, right?” Beca frowned. “Not that the shop makes a ton of money but I can afford more than the apartment I’ve been renting.”

“We’ll revisit tomorrow, once we’ve all had some real sleep?” Chloe looked around as they nodded. “And probably several more conversations over the next few months.”

“Because as much as I am into this idea,” Beca agreed. “There are a lot of things to be worked out before we start looking.”

“Figuring out a price range, how many rooms… I know Beca’s going to need space for storing gear and… oh god we’re going to have so many cars.” Aubrey shook her head. “I used to laugh at those listings where they had three bedrooms and three garages but now we’re going to need to be those pretentious assholes. Can we afford that?”

“That’s not something we have to figure out tonight. We save it for another day,” Stacie offered. “Who knows, maybe this won’t even work and this magical house doesn’t exist.”

“It does.” Chloe interrupted. “We’ll find it.”

Emily was nodding before she’d finished. “Now that I can picture it safely from a guest house, yeah. She’s right.” She bounced in her chair. “This is gonna be awesome!”

“This definitely calls for a toast,” Stacie said, wiping off pizza grease from her fingers. “Mixer for the coke or should I break out the wine?”

“Vodka please,” Emily said through a mouthful of pizza, belatedly covering her mouth while she chewed. “Sorry.”

“Gross.” Stacie shook her head. “I know Aunt K taught you better than that. You three good with that or want something else?” She stood to a chorus of ‘yes please’ and headed to the kitchen, aware that Aubrey had followed her in.

“Glasses are in that cupboard,” Stacie pointed as she opened the freezer and took out the bottle she kept there and a small bag of ice. Aubrey moved past her with a kiss to her shoulder blade and began taking five glasses out and setting them on the counter. “So, living together already?”

“Once the kneejerk fear was out of the way,” Aubrey turned and leaned against the counter. “Doesn’t it feel like we’re supposed to?”

“Yes.” Stacie closed the freezer and turned to set the bottle beside the glasses and the bag in the sink. She took a step forward and pressed against Aubrey. “Almost anyone else and I’d assume that I was in that ‘new love’ feeling that leads to all the U-Haul jokes and never seriously consider it but…” She leaned forward and found Aubrey’s mouth already parting for her. It was slow but deep; a dangerous combination despite their time together earlier in the evening. She felt Aubrey’s hands shift to her waist, always pulling her ever closer and Stacie’s pulse sped up.

“Don’t make me send Beca in there after you,” Chloe yelled at them. “Who knows what’ll happen this time.”

“Hey!” Beca objected. “I’m not drunk yet; I might be able to pry them apart without being affected by their lust aura.”

Chloe’s laugh filled the living room. “That’s totes the best way to put it but also I don’t know if you can.”

“Nothing,” Emily yelled back over Beca’s indignant squawk. “Nothing will happen because I can see into the kitchen from here and I know where the knives are.”

Laughing, Stacie pulled back and rested their foreheads together. “So, we’re really in this?” Stacie thought she could spend a lifetime looking into the eyes so close to hers and never be able to name all the shades of color she could see in them.

“With each other?” Aubrey smiled. “Or with them?”

“Yes.” Stacie said simply. She wanted it all. She wanted Aubrey. She wanted her best friend, her new friend and her cousin all living with her. That feeling of need and belonging wasn’t something she had ever wanted before and she felt she should be terrified at wanting and needing anyone this much but all she felt was equal measures of calm and excitement at the prospect.

“We’re all going to kill each other, being underfoot like that,” Aubrey pointed out. “You are aware of that? You’ve seen me; I can be a little… irrational… sometimes, when I get an idea stuck in my head.”

“You’re not alone in that. Chloe’s been known to have a good freak out or three, and -” she raised her voice. “Sorry Beca, but I’m sure I’m going to find something annoying about you eventually.”

“The first time you wake me up on a day I get to sleep in,” Beca promised. “Wrath. You will know it.”

“Looking forward to it,” Stacie assured her and forced herself to take a step back from Aubrey. “I’m certainly going to have my own moments where you’d like to strangle me… But I really think between those times we’re all going to be laughing our asses off because we are all fucking amazing.” She took a deep breath, trying to find words to explain the certainty she felt. “And I don’t know how but we all seem to fit together perfectly and I think we’ll balance each other out.” Stacie shrugged. “And Emily will be there to referee if needed and keep us in check.”

“If we can find a place and if we all still agree.” Aubrey ran her hand down Stacie’s arm. “There’s a lot that has to happen and we might not.”

“We will.” Stacie didn’t know how she knew but she could feel it in her bones that it would happen and probably a lot sooner than any of them thought possible.

“Then yeah, I’m in.” Aubrey nodded once. “I am so fucking in with all of you lunatics.”

Stacie kissed her again, quickly because if she let herself linger she wouldn’t be able to stop, and forced herself to turn away to dig the ancient drink mixer she’d gotten from her grandfather out of the silverware drawer.

“Aubrey,” Chloe sighed from the living room. “You of all people should know you can’t say fucking in front of Beca.”

“Is she giggling like a nine year old boy?” Aubrey grinned and helped Stacie add ice to their glasses.

“She’s turning red trying to hold it in, but yes,” Emily answered when Chloe started laughing.

“I can’t help it!” Beca defended herself. “Aubrey rarely curses and I love it each and every time.” There was a pause. “Plus it drops me into the gutter.”

“You never leave the gutter, let’s be honest.” Aubrey carefully picked up four of the glasses and headed back to the living room. Stacie put the ice back in the freezer and snagged a 2 liter of Coke from the fridge. Picking up the mixer, remaining glass and bottles, Stacie followed her out. “You’ve lived in the gutter as long as I’ve known you.”

“Guilty,” Beca said as they came back in. “It’s all part of my charm.”

Aubrey set the glasses down before sitting back down next to Beca. “You keep telling yourself that.” She poured the remainder of her can of Coke into one of the glasses, the rest following suit.

Stacie pulled the cover off the pour spout and began adding a generous amount of vodka to everyone’s glass. As she put the cover back on, Emily was already topping them all off with the 2 liter and Beca had picked up the mixer.

“Holy shit, I haven’t seen one of these in years!” She pressed the button on the side and the diamond shaped end began to spin. “My grandpa had one of these and I always loved it!” She stopped it for a second and put it in her drink and turned it back on, her smile turning wistful.

“Gramps had a whole bar set up downstairs,” Stacie smiled back at her. “He had a pool table set up in the middle of the room, a fireplace along one side, a piano in one corner and along the same wall he had a full bar.”

“One of us would play bartender and we’d pretend to order drinks.” Emily added, smiling when Beca handed her the mixer. “Used playing cards as cash.”

“Did you ever actually sneak the booze?” Aubrey asked, leaning back against Stacie.

“Nope,” Stacie laughed. “We never even considered it. It was all 7-Up or Pepsi and make-believe. God those were good times.” She smiled at her cousin and the memory. “Several of our families would gather for the big holidays in their narrow ass two story duplex. We never fit but somehow we made it work.”

“Most of us kids would spend the time downstairs, pretending we could shoot pool.” Emily handed the mixer to Chloe who took care of Stacie’s and Aubrey’s drinks before her own. “We’d even eat our dinner at the bar. I still don’t know how we didn’t drop our plates going down those death trap stairs.”

“Youthful luck.” Stacie reached out and handed Aubrey her glass and then took her own. Lifting it, she looked around at her newly forged family. Sentimental, sure, but that didn’t make it less true for all the speed in which it had happened. “A toast?”

“How about to new friends?” Emily lifted her glass.

“New family,” Chloe corrected, always able to read Stacie’s mind in a way she should have found worrisome.

“You guys better not make me cry before I’ve had enough to drink to blame it on,” Beca said. “I gave up on family long ago. Then Aubrey found me and now you guys…” She shook her head, blinking a few times. “To family.”

They all clinked their glasses together and took a drink.

“And,” Aubrey said, raising her glass a second time. “To the joys of house hunting.”

After they’d clinked and sipped, Stacie angled a little so she could see Beca. “Hey, Beca. I hear you know karate.”

“What?” Beca made a face. “That’s a physical activity and I make it a point to avoid physical activity.” She held up a finger when Aubrey drew breath. “Riding bikes and sex do not reside in the same level of physical activity that kicking people in the face does.”

“It does it you do it right,” Chloe said as she grabbed another slice of pizza.

Stacie eyed her cousin but Emily only shrugged. “I can’t argue even if I don’t want to hear my sister from another mother talk about it.”

“What is this conversation? Why do you even think that?” Beca took another drink and eyed her warily.

“Aubrey told me that you were up and ready to defend her honor at the slightest sound while she was injured.” Stacie grinned when Beca groaned at her.

“You told her?” She nudged Aubrey’s knee with her own. “Snitch.”

“Well,” Aubrey drawled. “I was actually telling her about forgetting I couldn’t put weight on it and that I dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Telling her about waking you was just a bonus.”

Chloe and Emily were looking between them but Chloe waved her hand. “Care to fill us in?”

“I yelled when I fell, breaking a lamp in the process and woke Beca up,” Aubrey explained. “She was on her feet before her eyes were open and her hands were in prime chopping position.” Aubrey lifted hers and demonstrated. “I’d have expected fists to punch like a scrappy boxer but I’d have been wrong.”

“Maybe your new nickname should be Karate Kid,” Stacie declared. “But I will likely shorten that to just Kid.”

“Aren’t I older than you?” Beca asked, exasperated. “I accepted Starfish but I think I even prefer Boobs McGee over Karate Kid.”

“You don’t get to choose nicknames, Beca,” Aubrey admonished sweetly. “They’re given by those who love you and know you well.” She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It means a lot that you are willing to defend me in my time of need.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beca muttered though her lips twitched into a grin. “You’re my person.”

“See? You love me.” Aubrey leaned over and pulled her into a hug. “You’re my person too.”

“Aw, that’s so cute.” Emily hopped out of her chair. “Movie time!”

“Nothing sappy,” Beca pleaded as Aubrey let her go. “Can we have action and explosions? And definitely not Karate Kid?”

“Sure,” Emily said easily, looking through Stacie’s collection. “Popcorn movies are fun and it gives me an excuse to make more before I have more pizza.”

Aubrey slid over and Stacie put an arm around her. “We’ll find a romantic drama you’ll like one day, Becs.”

Beca snorted. “You should know better by now than to say such things.”

Chloe looked up at them. “Is there room for me on the couch?”

“There’s maybe some room between Beca and I,” Aubrey said. “But it’s up to you if you wanna squish in or stretch out across us.”

“I’ll squish,” Chloe said as she stood. “Though that really almost leads to a horror movie cuddle, since I have someone to grab on either side.”

“Ooh!” Emily swiftly pulled a case from shelf and stepped to the TV. “An even better idea.” She stopped and turned to them. “Unless you guys don’t do horror?”

“Aubrey laughs her ass off,” Beca said as she scooted to the arm of the couch so Chloe could sit down. “So we’re good.”

Emily sighed. “I usually jump but we’ve seen this one enough that I have most of the jump scares down. Have you seen Cabin in the Woods?”

“That’s actually one of my favorites,” Aubrey laughed. “If you get freaked out you can have my spot and cuddle your cousin.” She paused and shrugged. “Or lay across our laps, I suppose.”

“Deal.” Emily put the disc in the player and turned off the lamp in the corner, leaving the room lit by the TV and the kitchen behind them.

“Did you know,” Chloe said idly as she reached for her drink again and took a sip. “That they have beds you can buy that are twelve feet across?”

“Chloe, you and Beca are the shortest people I know. What on earth would you need with an expanse like that?” Stacie laughed then broke off when Chloe shot her a sly grin and wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh my god, woman!”

“Dirty bird,” Aubrey said in admiration. “You’ll have to tell me more.”

“I’m out,” Emily declared and popped up out of the armchair she’d just settled in. “You’ve now put the forbidden image in my head and it’s all I’m going to see when I look at the four of you.”

“Wait wait,” Chloe laughed and reached over Beca to grab her wrist as she went by the couch. Stacie had seen the grin Emily tried to hide and knew she wasn’t going to leave. “I’m sorry, I’ll behave. I’ve just been sitting on that since this afternoon and couldn’t hold it in anymore. Come cuddle with us.”

Stacie picked up the remote and started the movie as Emily allowed herself to be pulled back around the couch. Beca had already pulled one of the throw pillows from behind her back and set it on her lap. As Emily carefully stretched out across their laps, Stacie felt like the Grinch as her heart swelled with affection and gratitude for the women in her life.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t loved and felt love in return before now. It was that she hadn’t expected a family beyond Emily and Chloe. She’d never found it important before pure chance had brought it into her life and now she couldn’t imagine her life without them.

She was in.

She was so fucking in.

-----------------

A/N: One day I may revisit this series because we all know the four of them end up together. I have some very vague ideas about a secondary plot line about training to beat DSM in a race - I know nothing about racing so I don't know if I could pull that off convincingly even if it takes place behind the scenes. Obviously main plot would be them finally figuring things out but... I don’t know if ya’ll would be interested in more of this world?

[massivedrickhead]

This is for @eulersfeverdream for their donation to @ppfandomdrive!

Thank you so much for your donation. I’m really honoured to be part of the PP Fandom Drive initiative, which is raising money for Black Lives Matter. 

If you want to donate, please visit the @ppfandomdrive page for more information.

The prompt I got from @eulersfeverdream was Bechloe hurt/comfort, and they gave me the following as inspiration if I wanted it (which I did!): One or more of Chloe’s family goes missing on a trip outside of the country, and we see snapshots of Beca trying to comfort and support her as she deals with it.

I hope you like this!

----------

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Chloe said, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was pacing back and forth, her phone held up to her ear. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

She heard the soft crying of her baby daughter who was currently sitting in her playpen.

Chloe sighed. “One sec,” she said into the phone. “Beca!” 

“Yeah?” Beca called from her office.

“Can you get Alice please?”

Beca appeared a few seconds later, her headphones around her neck. 

“Hey baby girl,” she said, scooping up her daughter. “Did mommy leave you alone in baby prison again?”

Alice stopped crying as Beca picked her up.

“Can you take her out of here?” Chloe asked, the phone held against her chest.

“Sure,” Beca said, frowning at the clear distress written across Chloe’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Please, baby,” Chloe said, her voice strained. 

“Okay,” Beca said. She closed the door behind her as she carried her daughter into her office.

“Sorry Mom,” Chloe said, turning back to her phone call. “What happened?”

Her sister Haley was missing, that was the long and short of it. 

She’d been vacationing in Europe and had stopped answering her phone. She hadn’t updated her instagram or twitter. And the plane that had meant to be bringing her back to the US had arrived in Florida without her. 

She was just… gone.

“When was the last time anyone heard from her?” Beca asked that night, holding her wife as she cried.

“I think my Mom spoke to her last week?” Chloe said. “I checked her social media and her last post on instagram was like 9 days ago when she’d arrived in Munich. I didn’t even notice. She usually updates every day and I didn’t even notice there’d been a 9 day gap.”

“Hey, come on,” Beca said softly. “You work full-time and you’re a parent. You’re barely on your phone. So, she was meant to get back from London on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes. “At first Mom thought she must have just missed her flight, but she wasn’t answering her phone. She called the airline to see if she was booked on another flight but they weren’t super helpful. So she called the police who said she had to wait 24 hours before they could do anything. Anyway, eventually the police actually did something and they found out she never made it to England. She was supposed to fly there from Italy and didn’t make the flight.”

“Shit,” Beca said, softly. “So… So what do they do now?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said, tears building in her eyes again. “Like, Europe is pretty big, right? And it’s all different countries, she could be in any of them. She could be anywhere.”

“I can post something on my socials? I’ve got a lot of fans in Europe, maybe someone will have seen her?” Beca asked.

“Would you do that?”

“Of course, it’s not even a question. Check with your mom to make sure it’s okay with the police or whatever, and when we get the okay I’ll post something. We’ll find her baby,” Beca said, kissing her wife on the head. “I don’t know if you know but I’m kind of a big deal. I’ve got 1.2 million followers.”

“Shut up,” Chloe said, laughing and hitting Beca in the arm. “I think I need to go back to Florida,” Chloe added after a small silence. “My mom doesn’t have anyone.”

“Do you want me to come?” Beca asked. 

“Yes,” Chloe said. “But I think I should go alone first. Just to figure out what’s going on. Can you watch Alice while I’m gone?”

“Of course,” Beca said. “She likes her morning scotch at 9am right?”

“I hate you,” Chloe said, kissing Beca on the cheek. “I’m gonna call my mom and then try and get a flight. And then I need to beg my boss for some time off.”

They heard Alice crying over the baby monitor. 

“I got her,” Beca said, standing up from the sofa.

——

Beca drove her wife to the airport the next afternoon.

She kept glancing across to the passenger seat where Chloe was on the phone to her mom.

“I land at like 5pm, but I’m just gonna hire a car you don’t need to pick me up,” Chloe said into the phone. “Hey, did you ask the cops about Beca making that post? She has like over a million followers, mom. No, she’s legit famous, and she says she has a big fanbase in Europe.” 

Beca glanced over at Chloe, grinning when the redhead rolled her eyes. “They said it’s okay? Cool.”

“I’ll post it as soon as I get home,” Beca said.

Chloe mouthed a thank you at her.

“Okay, I’ll call you when I land. Love you too,” Chloe said, ending the call.

“Any news?” Beca asked.

“Well we need to work out what country she’s in. So we need to know what flights she made and what ones she missed. But I know she was doing a lot of travelling by train, and it’s harder to keep track of train passengers,” Chloe said, rubbing at the headache forming behind her eyes.

“Did she ever give you or her mom an itinerary?”

“She posted something on her instagram before she set out but it didn’t have like specific times,” Chloe said. She let out a groan of frustration. “I hate this. I feel so fucking useless.”

“I know baby,” Beca said. “But you’re doing all you can. We’ll find her.”

“How? How will we find her? She’s one tiny 18-year-old lost in a whole fucking continent,” Chloe said, hitting the car door in frustration. 

The noise caused Alice to wake up and start crying.

“Sorry,” Chloe said, sighing.

“It’s okay,” Beca said, glancing back at their daughter. She turned back to see Chloe scrolling on her phone, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “There’s aspirin in the glove compartment.”

Chloe glanced at her, confused.

“You get headaches when you look at your phone like that,” Beca said. “So take some aspirin with you.”

“You take good care of me,” Chloe said, putting the back in her bag. 

“It’s my job, you’re my wife.”

They pulled up to the airport. “Call me when you land, okay?” Beca said, getting Chloe’s case from the trunk. 

Chloe nodded, and hugged and kissed Beca. “I hate leaving you both,” she said, her face buried in the crook of Beca’s neck.

“I hate it too,” Beca said. “Keep me updated, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She squeezed Beca tighter. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Beca replied as their hug ended. “Have a safe flight.”

Chloe leaned into the car to kiss Alice on the head before she picked up her case and headed into the airport.

——

One week later

“Sorry,” Beca said, shifting the weight of the screaming baby on her hip as she talked with Chloe on the phone. “She’s teething I think.”

“She has some those teething rings I think,” Chloe said on the other end of the phone. “You just need to put them in the freezer or something.”

“Yeah she has one, she’s just using it to hit me with,” Beca said.

“I’m sorry baby, I should be there,” Chloe said. She missed her wife and daughter so much, it made her heart ache. 

“It’s okay, Chlo’. So she didn’t leave Germany?”

“No, at least not by plane.”

“And that was the last time she posted right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. Beca could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “My mom’s flying out there tomorrow, but she’s asked me to stay here in case Hayley comes home or makes contact.”

“I’ll do another post, asking people in Germany to be on the look out or come forward if anyone knows anything,” Beca said. 

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Are you eating? And sleeping?”

“Sort of,” Chloe said. “I can’t sleep without you.”

“I can still fly out there you know?”

“Things are just a bit crazy here at the moment, I don’t think it’s the best place for Alice. Are you coping okay?”

“Of course,” Beca said. “Don’t worry about us.”

A few days later, Chloe answered the door to a delivery of brownies from her favourite local bakery, with a note attached.

Make sure you eat all of these. Miss you and love you. Beca xx

Chloe smiled for the first time in a week.

——

One week later

Chloe was broken from her thoughts by a knock at the door. Her heart summersaulted as it always did when there was a knock at the door, or when her phone rang. She was forever preparing herself for bad news. 

She opened the door and her heart melted when she saw Beca standing there.

“Hey,” Chloe said, dissolving into tears. “What are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Beca said, pulling Chloe into a hug. “My mom is watching Alice, I’m here for as long as you need me.”

“I always need you,” Chloe said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Any news?” Beca asked, making coffee for her and Chloe. 

“Not yet. My mom’s in a different part of the country so she’s travelling there now.” Chloe broke down in tears. 

“It might not be her,” Beca said, pulling her into a hug.

Last night, a girl’s body was pulled from the river of a small German town. The girl was thought to be between 17 and 20 years old, around 5ft4, and with short ginger hair. 

Beca had gotten the next flight out to Florida.

They were just waiting on a phone call now.

“Have you eaten?” Beca asked, rubbing a hand up and down Chloe’s bank. Chloe shook her head, wiping her eyes. “I’ll fix you something.”

“I’m not hungry,” Chloe said. “I feel sick.”

“Just a sandwich,” Beca said, standing. 

Chloe gripped her arm. “Please, baby,” Chloe said. “Just sit with me. I’ll eat later, I promise.”

“Okay,” Beca said, sitting down. She put her arm around Chloe. “Okay.”

And they waited.

After an hour, Beca lead them into the living room because Chloe was falling asleep at the table, and Beca wanted her to be more comfortable.

“Why haven’t we heard anything?” Chloe asked, her voice rough and tired.

“I don’t know,” Beca said, running her hand through Chloe’s hair, as she rested her head on her lap. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just stay here,” Chloe said.

“Of course.”

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Beca said. 

When the phone rang an hour later, both girls woke with a start.

“Oh fuck,” Chloe said, scrambling to find the phone. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Beca said, pulling the phone out of a gap in the couch cushions. “I’m right here.”

Chloe took the phone and answered.

“Mom?” 

Beca couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but she saw Chloe visibly deflate with relief and sink back against the couch. 

“It isn’t her? Okay. Okay, good. Thank god. Are you okay?” 

Beca kissed Chloe on the side of the head.

“No, Beca’s here. Yeah she flew out this morning. Okay. Go get some rest mom, call me later? Love you, bye.”

“It wasn’t her?”

“It wasn’t her,” Chloe said, crying with a mixture of guilt and relief. “Some other poor girl is dead, but it’s not my sister.”

“I’m gonna order a pizza, and then you’re gonna get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe said, too tired to argue.

——

“Prague?” Chloe said on the phone, a few days later. “Yeah, I think that was on her list.”

Beca pulled up Hayley’s instagram page, and scrolled to the picture of Hayley’s list of destinations.

“Yeah,” Beca said, showing Chloe. “Vienna, to Munich, to Prague. She was in Munich right?”

“Yeah, but she never flew out of Germany,” Chloe turned her attention back to her phone call. “Mom? You still there? Yeah, Prague was on her list.”

“I think you can get a train,” Beca said, scrolling on her phone. “It’s just long as hell.” 

“So when did they see her? Okay, call me later.”

“Someone’s seen her?” Beca asked when Chloe ended the call.

“A couple of weeks ago, someone saw her in a hostel in Prague. Or… Or someone who looks like her. Obviously they didn’t think anything of it, but apparently they saw your latest post on instagram and it clicked in their head. So… The police there circulated a picture of her, and there’s a girl in a hospital who matches that description,” Chloe said, her head spinning. 

“Your mom’s on her way?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “God, I hope they’ve found her.”

A few hours later, Chloe’s mom called to confirm. 

They’d found her.

Hayley Beale was in a medically induced coma in a hospital in Prague with a serious head injury.

She’d been found in an alley with no phone, bag or purse, so they assumed she’d been mugged.

But she was alive.

“Give your mom my love,” Beca said, kissing Chloe at the airport. 

“I will. Give Alice a kiss from me,” Chloe said.

Chloe was flying out to her mom and sister in Prague, and Beca was flying back to Atlanta. 

“See you in a week?” Beca asked. 

“Yeah,” Chloe replied. “You’ve been so amazing through this, Beca. I really couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re my wife, and I love you. I’d do anything for you.”

“I love you too.”

“Fly safe,” Beca said, kissing her a final time.

“You too.”

[beca-mitchell]

i've never been a natural (all i do is try) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, Aubrey, and what it means to be loved over their years together at Barden. References to side-Bechloe.

This is for @snowbritt who donated in support of @ppfandomdrive. ❤️  Your prompt was "chaubrey + smangst".

Fic title from "mirrorball" by Taylor Swift, which somehow encapsulates what I feel about Aubrey's character through PP1 and PP2 and some of PP3. Stream folklore.

Word count: 4,442

Rated M/E for some smut.

Read below or read on AO3.

* * * * *

to be forgiven 

Aubrey knows what love is. Or at least—conceptually, she knows what it means in all the usual ways: being cared for, having somebody be there emotionally and physically, maybe even a serenade here and there.

Aubrey doesn’t even necessarily have high expectations, just expectations. Simple, mundane expectations because it’s what she’s been told all her life. It’s what has been instilled in her: standards, rigidity, obedience, and expectations.

And she has to live up to every one of those things or face the consequences.

She senses Chloe before she hears her adjusting into the seat next to her.

“I messed up the solo, I deserve whatever’s coming,” Aubrey says, primly adjusting her uniform collar.

“Aubrey, you didn’t mess up,” Chloe says gently. 

Gentle. That’s something that Chloe has about her. It makes Aubrey envious, really, but she has no time for that. Any of that. The feelings, the envy, the gentleness.

Gentleness never got anybody anywhere.

That being said, meeting Chloe on the first day of Bellas rehearsals had been both the worst and best experience of Aubrey’s freshman year.

Scratch that. Perhaps it’s this. Or what had transpired not too long ago. A few short moments ago.

“I...I missed my cue for my solo—the solo I had to beg for. Posens don’t beg.”

Chloe shrugs. “I didn’t notice if you messed up.”

“Alice definitely noticed.”

“So?”

Aubrey doesn’t dare twist so she can face Chloe fully. The auditorium has since emptied and they are the only two, sitting right in the middle of the orchestra seating. She doesn’t want to see whatever sympathy flashes across Chloe’s face. It’s not like they’re friends, not really.

“I noticed,” Aubrey finally says quietly. A Posen would notice.

“I thought you sounded really good,” Chloe informs her. “Your voice is pretty.”

Aubrey glances up at Chloe, somewhat intimidated by the startling clear blue eyes gazing back at her without an ounce of sympathy. Simply understanding and a kindness that Aubrey has seen so rarely in her life.

“Thank you,” she manages. “But...the competition. Our performance…” She isn’t sure where she’s going with this, only that she failed and it is odd that Chloe isn’t even acknowledging that.

“I thought we sounded great. It was your first solo, Aubrey! You did amazing.”

The nauseating feeling lessens ever so slightly. “You did?”

“And so what if you think you messed up? You were so brave for taking that solo.”

There is no hint of deceit in Chloe’s eyes. Aubrey isn’t sure Chloe could be deceitful even if she tried.

“Thank you,” she whispers, allowing Chloe to reach out and hold her hand.

It is nice, knowing that she can still be a success in somebody’s eyes. It is nice, knowing that the sensation of Chloe holding her hand isn’t conditioned on her successes of failures.

Just the two of them, sitting in an empty auditorium and nowhere else to be.

 * * * * *

 to be cherished

When Aubrey breaks up with Howie near the end of her sophomore at Barden, she finds herself storming up to Chloe’s apartment—Chloe who hadn’t been lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to secure a spot in the Bella’s House—and breaking down in ways that would have made her parents recoil.

“That’s it,” Chloe announces after only five minutes of moping. Or at least, Aubrey’s version of moping: voraciously stuffing Chloe’s homemade cookies into her mouth. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Why?” Aubrey asks shortly. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

“You need to get over him,” Chloe responds, tugging the plate of cookies away from Aubrey’s grasp. “I know just the cure.”

“I don’t need to get over him. I already have.”

“I’m sure you have.” Chloe sighs from where she is wrapping the cookies in saran wrap. “He was a total dick to you anyway and you guys were going to break up. I’m shocked you guys didn’t break up weeks ago.”

Aubrey takes a moment to really assess her emotions on the matter. She finds that she is mostly shaken up that it wasn’t something she had anticipated. Not in the near future at least. She just kind of figured they’d kind of taper off and simply...exist in each other’s life. She hadn’t expected him to throw a wrench in her plans quite like that.

“Right,” she says slowly. “I suppose that’s where we were going anyway. I just...I’m not a fan of change, Chloe.”

Chloe reaches out to pull her hands up so they are standing in front of each other. “I know,” Chloe acknowledges quietly. “But you didn’t like him. And he treated you like crap. You deserve to be treated better.”

 * * * * *

 That’s how it starts without Aubrey even realizing what is happening until she is sitting across from Chloe at a nice restaurant, two weeks in a row.

This is, for all intents and purposes, Chloe treating her like a total queen.

On a date.

These are dates.

Aubrey can’t even bring herself to ask for fear of embarrassing herself in front of Chloe, even though she knows Chloe would never laugh at her or ridicule her. She has spilled so much to Chloe over the past couple of years. There is something incredibly deep and fulfilling about their friendship.

I could love you, Aubrey thinks.

At that moment, Chloe glances up at her, smiling at her through a mouthful of pasta. Her smile is playful and light, but her eyes are bright, shining with an emotion Aubrey can’t identify. Aubrey hates the notion of blurry lines—hates the idea that this could be something.

I could love you too, Chloe seems to say back. If you’d let me.

Chloe has always waited for Aubrey to make her moves—waited for Aubrey to open up. It would be, Aubrey thinks, fairly easy to let this transition into something more. But Chloe represents something so much deeper; something incredibly important to Aubrey that she doesn’t have the stomach to burrow into her own mind in order to figure out what.

“Are you going to eat your dinner?” Chloe asks, breaking Aubrey out of her solitude.

“Yeah. It’s...I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Oh. You know.”

Chloe hums, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she wraps her lips around her fork once more. “This is nice, y’know? You and me. Without the other Bellas.”

Aubrey doesn’t have the heart to tell Chloe that it is simply because they are so wildly disliked by the rest of the senior Bellas, being the only two juniors in the group. She doesn’t like it when Chloe is disheartened.

“You and me,” Aubrey echoes.

Chloe hums, something non-committal, but Aubrey doesn’t miss the way Chloe’s eyes cut to her very briefly before she gazes away again.

It is nice, saying that aloud, but Aubrey is afraid to say more because she doesn't understand the breadth of her own emotions. She can't even categorize what she's feeling, how could she possibility explain anything to Chloe?

 * * * * *

 Later, as Aubrey lies awake at night, she decides that she somewhat likes this state of in-between with Chloe. It doesn’t feel as daunting as she would have thought. Instead, it feels comfortable, knowing that Chloe and her seem to be on the same page, despite all the things left unspoken.

(She is wrong.)

 * * * * *

 to be desired

They aren’t dating. They probably never will. But this—this making out on and off—this is a new development.

It had started at a party a few weeks ago, under the shadow of drunkenness, tumbling into Chloe’s bed, arms around each other. A tangle of limbs. A mess, for all intents and purposes, but it hadn’t sent Aubrey running. Quite the opposite in fact.

And now...

“I’m—” Aubrey swallows the lump in her throat (categorically it feels like desire and panic all at once) as Chloe’s lips trail down her neck. “I’ve never done this with a girl before,” she whispers, clamping her mouth shut almost immediately after. It feels like admitting something is wrong with her—feels like admitting some kind of failure because after all, life is nothing but a binary of success and failure.

It is then that Chloe stops and ceases her ministrations to draw back and look at her with her brow furrowed. “I know,” she murmurs, sliding her hand down Aubrey’s jaw. “We talked about it,” Chloe continues, casually bringing up a conversation that been both freeing and mortifying for Aubrey. She had never known somebody like Chloe before—had never known a friend who would be so open and willing to share anecdotes about her own life without a care in the world.

Aubrey inhales shakily, willing her body to resist the temptation of Chloe’s lips against her skin, as pleasurable as ever. “No, wait—” Chloe draws back, sitting back on Aubrey’s thighs patiently at Aubrey’s protest. Somehow she manages to still look equal parts innocent and filthy with her eyes blown wide—innocently so in some respects—and with her hair in a complete disarray from Aubrey’s eager hands. Aubrey clenches her hands into her bedspread and sits up slightly to level herself with Chloe more. “I’ve just...also never really…” She clears her throat. “You know. Gotten...there.”

Chloe’s jaw slackens for a moment and she tilts her head, contemplating Aubrey’s words. “What do you mean you’ve never gotten there?”

“Chloe,” Aubrey complains.

“Okay, maybe I do know, but—” Chloe leans forward with a soft giggle. Her hair tickles Aubrey’s skin ever so gently. “Never? Not even by yourself?”

Aubrey’s face feels ridiculously hot. “I’ve...tried. A few times. Maybe a couple times I—” Words stick in her chest, unwilling to spill forward. A swell of insecurity and unspoken desires course through her.

I don’t know myself.

My own body.

I don’t know how to love myself like that.

Chloe’s eyes soften. “Aubrey,” she murmurs quietly, like she knows. Because of course, she knows. It is just so very Chloe of her—a marker of who Chloe Beale is as a person since she crashed through Aubrey’s life like a tornado over the past two years or so. Chloe has somehow known things before Aubrey has even had a chance to compartmentalize them and sift through every point at her painstakingly slow place; Chloe has somehow always been the antithesis.

Aubrey doesn’t dare say anything, too caught up in her own thoughts again, but Chloe lifts a hand to curl through her hair. If they weren’t in the position they currently find themselves, sprawled on Aubrey’s too-large bed and across Aubrey’s too-plain sheets, Aubrey could close her eyes and imagine Chloe carding her fingers through her hair on a regular movie night on the couch.

It scares her how normal this feels.

“Not even with Howie?” Chloe asks, still quiet. Still moving her fingers through Aubrey’s hair. Still sitting astride Aubrey’s thighs. Aubrey shakes her head. “Good thing you broke up with him,” Chloe comments with a smile.

That breaks some of the tension that Aubrey had felt building in her chest. She both hates and loves how comfortable she can be with Chloe—how Chloe makes things feel easy and light, like Aubrey can exist without trying so hard. Like this is how it can be. How it ought to be.

“Yeah, good thing,” Aubrey murmurs, closing her eyes when Chloe’s lips meet hers again.

“We’ll get you there,” Chloe murmurs, kissing determinedly down Aubrey’s neck and between her breasts with a destination seemingly in mind.

Aubrey believes her.

Eventually Chloe seems to settle between Aubrey’s legs—how had she gotten there?—and Aubrey feels, abstractly as she dissociates from her own body, kiss-swollen lips begin to trail over the soaked material of Aubrey’s underwear.

“Chloe,” she rasps out. “Okay—you...you don’t—” Aubrey cuts herself off with a choked gasp when Chloe kisses the fabric of the soaked material of her underwear. You don’t have to do that, is what Aubrey had wanted to say, but in a rare moment of internal conflict with her word choice, she clamps her mouth shut as Chloe’s kisses increase in their pressure and intensity, even going as far as to gently sucking at Aubrey’s clit through her underwear.

Now, all Aubrey wants to say is Never stop.

She can barely manage more than a strangled, moaning gasp—a foreign sound—when Chloe draws her head away.

“Why?” It comes out as a demand.

Chloe’s smile is positively sinful, a far cry from the usual pleasantness or playfulness found on her face. Aubrey feels dizzy from the heat coursing through her body. “Do you want me to stop?” Chloe asks. “We can stop,” Chloe promises, though she licks her lips with devastating effect. Aubrey wonders if Chloe’s lips will glisten as they do now if she were to...well. The thought remains half-complete in her mind.

“I guess…” Aubrey clears her throat going for some authority. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh,” Chloe drawls. “So you want me to continue?” Chloe asks, adopting a tone entirely too innocent and too willing for the situation. Aubrey clenches around nothing, entirely too wet and swollen, at the tone and Chloe’s subtle nudge at her penchant for control.

“Yes,” Aubrey murmurs.

“Okay,” Chloe hums. “I want to taste you…if that's okay with you.”

Aubrey tries to run through a list of reasons why she wouldn’t want that—tries to itemize reasons why she should tell Chloe to stop, but she can’t. She finds that she wants this so much; she wants Chloe to make her feel good and she wants to just feel good, period.

She is no longer thinking about Howie, any of her other exes, or even her own inability to make herself feel good.

Allowing herself this one pleasure will make her feel good.

The simplicity causes her to sag into her bed, gasping out a breath when, at the same time, Chloe pulls her underwear down her legs eagerly.

“Okay,” Aubrey murmurs, mostly to herself. “Okay.”

Chloe shifts forward, the movement guiding her snugly between Aubrey’s legs. Beneath Aubrey’s thighs, she feels the press of Chloe’s shoulders, shifting forward ever so slightly. But no—that isn’t what she’s supposed to be focusing on, not when Chloe and her damn tongue are as eager as the rest of her. Despite the eagerness in Chloe’s movements, there is something gentle and exploratory about it all. It feels pleasant and warm and her stomach clenches pleasurably—a far cry from the usual nauseating feeling she gets with startling regularity.

This is it, she thinks, eyes slipping shut as Chloe’s mouth moves against her, wet and soft and so, so warm. This is what it’s meant to be like—what it must mean to be wanted.

A beat.

Aubrey’s heart sinks.

She doesn’t feel anything—doesn’t feel the white-hot pleasure or the sharp sensation of desire or lust like she’s always read about in her own research. Chloe’s tongue and lips between her legs and—and—

“Oh fuck—!” She claps a hand over her mouth as Chloe’s tongues curls and slides, this time pushing upward just right. A jolt of pleasure hooks into her, somewhere in her belly, and tugs. Aubrey cries out again, this time from behind her hand, hips lurching upwards. Chloe pins her hips down with sure, deft hands. The strength of Chloe’s hold on her only makes her wetter even though she had thought that impossible.

Oh.

This is what it feels like to be wanted.

Between her legs, Chloe grins. Aubrey can fucking feel it.

We’ll get you there, is what Chloe had said.

Aubrey believes her.

Chloe has, after all, never given Aubrey any reason to not believe her.

 * * * * *

 Touching Chloe in return is an experience on its own. It is incredible and satisfying and all the words that Aubrey has yet to learn. An enviable vocabulary and she has nothing on the tip of her tongue to describe what it means to be so breathless after having Chloe come apart at her hands.

Chloe’s soft voice, ever soothing, guiding her as she learns Chloe’s body inside and out.

“Right there,” Chloe murmurs, like she is telling Aubrey the time. Her hand, wrapped around Aubrey’s wrist, guides Aubrey’s hand against slick, wet folds and an insistent, stiff clit. It makes Aubrey inhale sharply, knowing that she is touching Chloe so intimately—another woman!—and yet, she feels like she can’t imagine herself doing anything else.

“Here,” Aubrey echoes, rubbing the pads of her fingers gently against Chloe’s stimulated center. A soft moan escapes her when she dips her fingers inside Chloe ever so slightly, feeling Chloe tense beneath her immediately, like she is trying to pull Aubrey in deeper. The thought makes her hot and wet all over again and she shifts, biting her lip as she hovers over a shockingly quiet and docile Chloe Beale.

Chloe says nothing. She nods, pulling Aubrey in for a searing kiss that makes Aubrey feel like she has been doing this for years.

 * * * * *

 to be loved

The summer before senior year is a lot.

Aubrey watches Chloe sip leisurely at her margarita, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. She finds that she hates when Chloe hides her eyes like this when she can’t see the swirl of emotions behind Chloe’s eyes.

“Are you ready for our senior year?” Chloe asks suddenly, putting her drink down.

“I am.”

For a long moment, Chloe doesn’t respond. It is enough of a pause for Aubrey to turn and face Chloe completely because it is so unlike Chloe to not have a response.

“Chloe?”

“I’m...yeah. It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the Bellas.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe knows that she hadn’t been thinking about anything else except the Bellas since the end of their last competition. And Puke Gate. She represses a shudder. “Right,” she says slowly. “About what?”

“Just that it’s our last year together,” Chloe replies simply. “I’m thinking about missing you. And just...not being together all the time.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe isn’t necessarily referring to their loosely-defined Friends With Benefits arrangement (though, Aubrey thinks, it wouldn’t be so loosely-defined if she had just drafted up that contract she had in mind), but it’s the first thing that comes to mind regardless. As with most things having to do with Chloe and sex, a full-body flush immediately rushes through her and she does everything in her power to school her face into one of neutrality as to not alert Chloe to her thoughts.

Still, Aubrey feels affection and tenderness from the woman in front of her. Over their time together at Barden, she has come to know Chloe so intimately and so thoroughly that she can hardly imagine being apart from her as well.

“I get it,” she manages to say. A litany of words—more words, always, somehow—threaten to spill from her lips, but she represses it, afraid of what it would mean to finally, fully wear her heart on her sleeve. “But that just means we have to give it our all, doesn’t it?”

At that, Chloe smiles. “Right. We’re going to be aca-awesome.”

Chloe’s consistent attempts to combine “aca” into their terminology had been something that had made Aubrey laugh at first, not taking it seriously. And Chloe had continued to say it, with the intent of making Aubrey laugh. But now, it is something of an inside-joke between them, neither serious nor a joke. Just something for them, as co-captains. Co-leaders.

Partners.

“Aca-awesome,” Aubrey echoes. “We are, aren’t we?”

The way Chloe gazes at her then, like she thinks Aubrey can do anything in the world...that alone nearly makes Aubrey’s emotional padlock completely fall off her heart, but she grabs at the shackles in a moment of desperation.

The issue between her and Chloe is that neither of them is willing to push each other to that extreme limit—at least not in terms of matters of the heart. Chloe is too gentle with her. Aubrey is too reserved.

Too afraid.

Even though Chloe makes her feel more than she’s ever allowed herself to feel in the past two decades of her life.

 * * * * *

 It is just so much more efficient to put actions to work when words fail. That is something that Aubrey has learned from Chloe herself. Even as she pulls Chloe into her arms, both of them vying for dominance over the other as they stumble through the darkness of Aubrey’s bedroom.

Nights like these always start and end the same way. She and Chloe have gotten efficient, for lack of a better word, at their arrangement.

Except tonight, something feels slightly different. Not quite off, but not quite what Aubrey’s used to, at least with them. Even with all her incessant planning and thinking, she hadn’t foreseen this.

Tonight, it’s different.

Tonight, it’s short, and intense. It leaves them both incredibly sated, both embarrassingly wet and ready for each other as soon as they tumble on the bed, naked. Even with Chloe’s fingers pressed inside her, Aubrey scrambles for more—so much more—grappling with the heaviness of her own emotions. On the cusp of everything, Aubrey tumbles and the experience, breathlessly crying out Chloe’s name, leaves Aubrey stunned into somewhat of a shocked silence. Belatedly, she feels Chloe shuddering against her as she comes around Aubrey’s fingers as well, a soft cry escaping her lips. The jerk of Chloe’s hips against Aubrey’s hand almost sends them both tumbling from her bed, from where they had been lying too close to the edge.

Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, Aubrey thinks that they had been loud. And even more belatedly, was that a soreness in her throat? She needs to remember to get tea and honey for herself and Chloe as soon as possible.

Together, they lie, pressed against each other. Aubrey enjoys the sensation of Chloe’s fingers drumming a slow, uneven rhythm against her shoulder, a reminder that they remain connected even by music.

Chloe sighs, somewhat happily. Somewhat morosely. “Aca-amazing,” she whispers, breath hot against Aubrey’s neck.

The brief silence that follows is enough of a space for both their walls to come crashing down. Aubrey bursts into laughter first—true and real giggles leaving her lips—followed quickly by Chloe. Despite the breathlessness in her chest, Aubrey feels calm.

“Aubrey?”

Never mind that. Chloe sounds entirely too nervous for this to be anything good, but Aubrey knows she is powerless to resist whatever Chloe wants to ask of her.

“Yes?”

Aubrey steels herself for whatever question Chloe might throw at her; Aubrey steels herself for whatever the question might hold for their future together. She settles somewhere between being ready and terrified, not too unlike how she feels whenever she performs.

For so long she hadn’t known whose court the ball was in. Now, she might get the chance—now she might—

“It’s…nothing.”

With that, Chloe rolls over and falls asleep rather quickly, leaving Aubrey to stare at the dark ceiling, wondering if the ball had been in her court all along and she had simply failed to do anything about it.

 * * * * *

 (But what would that conversation have even gone like? Aubrey imagines a thousand possibilities, each ending the same way.

“What do you want this to mean?” Chloe would have asked. Or some variation.

No matter the variable, no matter the input, Aubrey can only compute the same answer: “You,” is what she longs to say. Longed to say. Longed to have said.

The worst part is that she knows that she never would have said it even if Chloe had been asking the same question for the better part of three years together...in every sense of the word.

She tastes the word on her lips, saying it aloud to herself when she lies alone in her bedroom. You.

An entire world of possibilities.)

 * * * * *

 Beca Mitchell.

She’s...she’s something, Aubrey can admit that much.

So much possibility rolled into one person.

Aubrey wonders which parts of Beca appeal to Chloe the most.

Aubrey wonders if Beca’s smugness has anything to do with the fact that Chloe looks at her and sees an entire world that she hadn’t known existed before Beca strolled lazily into their lives. It is so easy to identify because it’s all Aubrey can see when she looks at the crumbling pieces of her and Chloe’s world in her own hands.

 * * * * *

 to have loved and lost 

Aubrey is not an eavesdropper. In fact, she has learned over time that she would really rather not hear some of the things she’s heard. Some classified, some just...the Bellas at their best and worst.

This probably falls somewhere between the two.

Aubrey pauses. She shifts the spare blankets to her other hand as she catches the tail end of soft murmurs from the lounge area for Lodge guests.

“—wish you told me.”

She recognizes Chloe’s voice immediately and draws closer on instinct. She already knows who Chloe is with even if she hasn’t fully heard another voice. Her assumption is confirmed when she hears a long drawn-out sigh that can only belong to one Beca Mitchell, somehow managing to imbue a sigh with the very slightest hint of sarcasm.

Aubrey closes her eyes. She knows she’s being unfair to Beca. It’s not that she doesn’t like Beca. She likes her very much, in fact. She respects her a lot.

“I wanted to tell you,” Beca finally says. “You know I want to tell you.”

“Anything in particular?” Aubrey’s chest seizes at the flirty, playful tone to Chloe’s voice. She should go. She should.

“Um.” Beca exhales. “Everything.” Her voice has a strange tone to it. Soft and uneven. Low. Quiet. “You know...about the internship,” she adds hastily. “But also…”

“Beca,” Chloe responds. “Of course.”

“I just get so…”

“I know, Bec.”

“There is um, something else.”

Aubrey suddenly feels like she is intruding on something intimate, but she cannot bear to draw away. She tells herself that it is because she’s looking out for Chloe, even after all these years. Even after years of drifting apart.

She just wants to be right.

“What is it?” Chloe asks. Aubrey closes her eyes. She hates the tenderness in Chloe’s tone—the sheer gentleness that afflicts Chloe’s voice whenever she talks to Beca. Whenever she so much as talks about Beca.

“It’s you,” Beca says, so quietly that Aubrey has to strain to hear it. "It has always been you."

Aubrey does not hear Chloe's response.

fin.

[chloebeale]

would it be cool if u wrote a fic on the gif with kendrick pulling the dude’s shirt 👉👈🥺

(Yes! Thank you for this; it got a little longer than intended, so you can read it below or on AO3.)

EVERY TIME I DON’T, I ALMOST DO (1/1)

RATING: T. PAIRING: Bechloe. WORDS: 2.1k. AO3 LINK: here!

***

It happens a lot, this almost thing. It happened for the first time in college, on Beca’s very first day at Barden University. Amidst a buzz of annoyingly vibrant chatter, Beca almost told the girl in the blue dress, the one with the far too chipper voice, just how distractingly stunning her eyes were. She almost told her again in the shower a few days later, too.

At her first—or was it second?—Bellas rehearsals, when soft fingers wrapped delicately around her wrists and helped to guide her through the incredibly simple dance moves she was intentionally not putting any amount of effort into, Beca almost told Chloe how much she liked the scent of her floral perfume as it began to fill her nostrils. (Weird, really, considering floral is totally not Beca’s thing.)

Sophomore year, when Beca officially moved out of the campus dorms and into the Bellas house, the one where she finally felt as though she had found her place. The girls were discussing room assignments, and Beca almost told Chloe she wanted to room with her. She almost did.

The same way as, following their flight to Copenhagen, when Chloe fell asleep with her head resting gently against Beca’s shoulder, then began to blink herself into a wakeful daze just before landing, Beca almost told her just how adorable she looked. She almost told her she has never seen somebody wake to look so effortlessly beautiful, so breathtakingly perfect. Really, she almost did.

Almost, almost, almost.

Ten minutes ago, fresh off of her overly elated performance high, when Chloe stood with her arms looped protectively around her middle, watery gaze, bright and familiar, meeting with Beca’s, Beca almost told her something then, too. She almost told her something she has almost told her a hundred times before, but in the end she just…didn’t. Chloe’s fallen gaze, the sympathetic smile on her subtly pouted lips, felt like something of a finality to Beca. The way Chloe’s expression wordlessly told her, “It’s okay, I get it. I always get it,” felt like a missed chance, a chance Beca has missed so many times before.

She doesn’t know when, exactly, she is going to run out of chances. But she can feel it, she can feel it falling from her slippery grasp.

Beca is not going to let it pass her by any longer; she can’t.

Perhaps it is the adrenaline still coursing throughout her body from the euphoria of performing for a crowd, her Bellas surrounding her, or perhaps it is the finality in Chloe’s silent stare. Whatever the reason, Beca’s feet carry her with unfamiliar confidence, in search—much like she usually is—of Chloe Beale.

I wasn’t actually afraid of the girls hating me for accepting Khaled’s offer, she is going to tell her, I was afraid of accepting because I’m afraid of what it could lead to. I’m scared to leave, to not see your face every single day. I’m scared of being without y—

Beca stops abruptly in her tracks, gaze widening and heart sinking as she drinks in the sight before her, the sight of Chloe’s arms wrapped around their tour guide’s neck, his lips crashing against those lips Beca’s gaze had drifted to only moments before.

It is like a train wreck, like an excruciating, horrific sight that Beca does not want to look at, but that she can’t even tear her stare from.

By the time they part—Chloe and Chicago—Beca is still staring, still watching with frozen limbs and widened eyes. There is a smile on Chloe’s lips, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but that is distinctly a smile nonetheless. It falls as she straightens up, though, familiar blue eyes drifting toward Beca. Chloe opens her mouth, as if to say something, maybe to explain herself… But Beca cuts her off with a brief shake of her head, and a smile that silently tells her, “I get it. I always get it, too.”

*

The next time Beca sees Chloe, she is standing at the door of her hotel room. No longer is Beca wearing her sequinned dress and faux leather jacket, dressed to the nines like the professional performer she has just somehow managed to trick everyone into believing she is. Instead, she wears a baggy, oversized sleep shirt, make up removed and hair no longer neatly styled.

Chloe, on the other hand, looks just as she had all night; her black dress hugs her waist perfectly, red waves popping brightly against the backdrop of her black leather jacket. Beca tries her hardest not to stare.

“There you are,” Chloe states with a relieved sigh. Beca notes the way her shoulders seem to drop slightly, and it is as if she is watching the tension leave her body. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Well,” Beca responds with momentarily raised brows. In spite of herself, she steps aside, silently motioning Chloe in. “Looks like you found me.”

It seems to take a second or two for Chloe to take in Beca’s change of clothes. Auburn brows tug slightly, gaze sweeping over Beca’s torso. “You know everyone is, like, partying still, right?” Chloe says, head tilting slightly. Beca is not actively looking at her, though she cannot help but steal glances here and there. The way Chloe’s nose wrinkles is kind of adorable, she has to silently admit. “It’s kind of all for you.”

Lamely, Beca shrugs a shoulder, proceeding to fold her dress to lay neatly down in her suitcase. “I don’t really feel like it.”

Chloe pauses for a brief moment. “Okay… Well,” she begins in her usual cheerful voice, “You were incredible out there, Bec. Seriously, it was like watching a superstar.”

All Beca does is grunt in acknowledgment, continuing to busy herself with halfhearted packing.

Chloe’s repeated hesitance is obvious in response. “Um. Beca, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Beca responds dryly, hands planting against her hips as she straightens her body. Her back is still toward Chloe, though she can hear familiar footsteps approaching.

“You don’t seem fine,” Chloe retorts.

Slowly, Beca drags in her top lip with her bottom teeth, turning on the spot to face Chloe. She notes the look in Chloe’s eyes, the one that tells her she is trying to properly read her. All Beca does is shrug.

“You know, you’re kind of impossible sometimes,” Chloe says through a small yet obviously exasperated sigh.

Again, Beca simply shrugs. She sucks in her cheeks in thought, head shaking gently. “Just leave it, Chlo.”

Despite so many almosts, so many words left unsaid, it is like, somehow, Beca and Chloe are always on the same page. No, they don’t voice as such, but they know each other well enough to know the other’s mind. Beca is willing to bet that Chloe knows exactly what is wrong with her, the same way Beca knows that Chloe knows it.

“You know,” Chloe murmurs, tone a little more defeated this time, “There are two people in this…” She trails off.

“In this what?” Beca questions, words leaving her almost without prior thought.

“Friendship,” Chloe continues cautiously.

It is not fair really, the way the word causes Beca’s heart to sink. Because that is what this is, it’s a friendship. She and Chloe are friends—just friends—they’re nothing more. In spite of everything, of those looks and those desperate, yearning stares, those wordless admissions, all they are is friends. Beca is resigning herself to the fact that that is all they are going to be.

Beca doesn’t intend to say anything more—what more is there to say? Though, apparently her expression betrays her, the way her mouth opens as if to begin reeling off a whole speech, words dying on her tongue, would say otherwise. Chloe sees it, too.

“No,” Chloe says, evidently noting the way Beca has stopped herself short already. “Say it.” Beca stares with knitted brows. “Whatever you were going to say,” Chloe clarifies, “Say it.”

“I…” Beca begins, though just as quickly cuts herself off. Rather than proceed, she instead softly shakes her head, dry chuckle leaving her lips.

“Beca,” Chloe says, feet carrying her forward, until there is barely a gap between them. With Chloe in heels and Beca barefoot, she feels ten times smaller than usual. She stares up at Chloe, blinking through her own silent emotions. Chloe stares expectantly in response. “What are you afraid of?”

The question causes Beca to pause, causes her to swallow thickly. Before seeing Chloe and Chicago together, Beca was ready to pour her heart out, to tell Chloe exactly how she feels, exactly what she is afraid of. She thinks she was going to tell her, anyway. Now, though, with Chloe standing before her, just the two of them with no distractions, Beca suddenly loses access to her voice.

Chloe doesn’t push at first, not with words. She just continues to stare, to scan Beca’s expression, to try to read her mind. Beca notes the way Chloe’s gaze lowers slightly, the way Beca’s lowers, too. She watches as Chloe’s tongue flickers out momentarily between the part in her lips, takes note of her now faded gloss.

“What are you afraid of?” Chloe echoes, voice a little quieter this time.

God, Beca wants to say, so many things. She is afraid of the way her heart has begun to race, of the way her hands have begun to shake. Beca is afraid of how closely Chloe is standing to her, how badly Beca wants nothing more than to close the small gap between them and press her lips to Chloe’s. She is afraid of how much she wants to show her that kissing Chicago was a mistake, and it should’ve been Beca she was kissing all along.

“You’re just so…” She tries instead, tone a little more annoyed than intended. Beca’s lips purse, gaze burning harshly into Chloe’s face.

“I’m just so what?” Chloe questions, evidently taking in the expression, watching the way Beca looks as though she is about to inexplicably explode. She clearly notes Beca’s frustrated groan. “Beca—”

Perhaps it is the adrenaline again, the thing that has Beca stepping forward. Yeah, she decides, that’s it, it’s adrenaline. It is adrenaline that has Beca reaching forward to grasp firmly onto the fabric of Chloe’s dress, that has her stretching up onto her toes and wrapping her other arm around Chloe’s neck. It is adrenaline that has Beca tugging Chloe forward, and she assumes it is adrenaline that has Chloe so easily complying.

Before she even realizes what she is doing, Beca’s hand releases its grasp on Chloe’s dress, arm instead looping around Chloe’s neck, until the feeling of Chloe’s lips crashing against her own causes Beca’s eyes to flutter shut.

Beca has imagined kissing Chloe before. She has imagined small pecks, deep make out sessions. This is certainly no small peck, she realizes as Chloe’s fingers grasp needily at her waist, hastily tugging her body closer. Beca’s lips part to deepen the desperate, long overdue kiss, and she notes the way Chloe’s do the same.

Chloe’s palms curl against Beca’s back, Beca’s arms tightening instinctively around Chloe’s neck, and it is as if neither ever wants to let go.

“You’re so frustrating,” Beca finally murmurs breathlessly against Chloe’s lips, though she has no intention of pulling away. Instead, her tongue slips between the gap in Chloe’s lips, some form of release crashing over her at the feeling of Chloe’s tongue moving expertly against her own. Beca tightens her hold further, while Chloe begins to guide her backward and toward the bed.

Already, Beca finds that she is fighting for breath, that her chest is rising and falling faster as her back softly hits the mattress. Though her arms remain in place, she pulls back to stare upward at Chloe hovered over the top of her, drinks in the darkened look in Chloe’s familiar stare.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Chloe asks, words somewhat breathless already, too. “On stage, you were going to say something. You almost did. Is that it?”

Beca stares. She stares in a way she has stared at Chloe so many times before, drinks in the sight of every pale feature, the familiarity of the bluest eyes staring back at her. In place of a verbal response, Beca lifts her head to push her lips against Chloe’s again, a motion Chloe eagerly reciprocates.

Beca doesn’t know what is happening, not really. She just knows that there are no more almosts; there is no room left for almost.

[darthbelle]

Hi there, Sam! Hope your week is not too shabby so far! Do you feel like answering A LOT of questions about reading and writing fanfic from the Fic Writer Ask Game? Or just a few, no pressure. :D So many cool questions, how about 3, 5, 13, 17, 23, 24 and 28? Too much? You don't have to do all of them if you don't feel like it, of course! 42 is interesting too, if u wanna play, with the 3 fics being Sober, Empty and AEAL. Thank u so much, bye!

Hello AEAL anon! (I’m assuming this is the same AEAL anon, and if not, I apologize)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

Oh gosh, absolutely. In terms of Jori fic, Streetlights has always been hella inspirational, which probably isn’t a surprise but hey, when something is that impactful, it tends to stick with you. And lately, Cigarette Daydreams has been one that I’ve thought a lot about 

I’m also really inspired by a few Carmilla fics (Vindicated, White Blank Page, and Marriage of Convenience come to mind off the top of my head), and a few Bechloe fics, too (especially Favorite Record). 

The phrasing of this question is interesting though, because it has an implication of like, the fic directly inspiring the content of what I write, which is not really the case for me. There are just some fics that stick with you forever, I think, and in that way have a bit of an influence on your own works. 

I don’t know if that makes sense, but there ya go. 

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

I....okay, so this is going to sound incredibly hypocritical considering Sober exists, but I don’t tend to read first-person POV fic much these days? That’s not really a pet peeve, though...

hmm.

Bad grammar, I guess? Stilted sentences, and stilted dialogue drive me a little batty, and I’ve definitely clicked out of fics because I just couldn’t vibe with the writing style. 

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

hahahhahahaha okay, so I don’t outline my fics. Not in the traditional sense, at least. 

However, there are a series of notes in my phone that just have various plot points, dialogue and lines, character information, and like, full scenes written out.  Most of it never made it into the fic.

There is also a note with unofficial titles for all the AEAL chapters

It would give someone a massive headache because most of it doesn’t make sense

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

I don’t stare at the fic...I tend to quickly exit out of the fic itself and just wait for my one friend to start screaming at me after they read whatever I just posted.  (the aforementioned friend has also been recently revealed to be the other pineapple anon, so there’s that)

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Can I claim like, stargazing as a trope? Because I tend to dig that a lot

And just as a general trope, I like enemies to lovers, which is probably obvious when you look at what fandoms I write for 

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

Fuck, this is hard

I don’t know if this is a trope, but like... major character deaths? There’s a certain level of angst that I can’t handle as much anymore, and like, fic that’s just down and depressing is fic that I can’t really read anymore. 

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

lol I don’t

just kidding. Well. Mostly. 

negative comments haven’t been a huge issue, thankfully. 

As for the pressure to update/deadlines...well, with AEAL, it helped that I had already written 7 chapters worth of it before I ever posted the first chapter. So I was able to keep writing and still maintain a buffer. There were only two weeks that I didn’t update, and I technically could have updated for both of those (I chose to not just because of the timing of the rest of the writing, and I certainly don’t regret it)

Honestly there’s been a lot of internal pressure that I’ve put on myself to get this fic written, and it’s been a lot! But I’ve had the help of some good friends to keep me sane, and a readership that has been really supportive (which I’m incredibly thankful for)

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related (like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) - have fun!

ooooo I get to pick the criteria? That’s fun.  Okay, so you chose Sober, Empty, and AEAL...let’s rank them in terms of “how oblivious is Tori?”

1. (the most oblivious)- AEAL, without a doubt

2. Empty

3. Sober

For an added bonus, let’s also rank them in terms of “how big of a dumbass is Jade being?”

1. (the most dumbass)- also probably AEAL

2. also probably Empty

3. Sober, somehow, even though she is also certainly a dumbass in this fic, too

this was fun! any other questions, anon?

I hope your week has been decidedly un-shabby as well!