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amoressb · 3 days ago

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𐙚 old love

pairings : ex bf!riki x reader ; exs to lovers

synopsis : it has been almost a year since y/n and riki have broken up, though the reason behind it is quite silly. simply stating that you both were on different paths. while on your “different” paths, you both reminisce the times you have spent together, the special moments now turned into memories, but what if your paths werent so different at all? especially since both paths lead you to the same tree where you two shared your first kiss together under the enchanting moonlight.

*w.c - 1.6k

*inspired by my favorite song old love by yuji & putri dahlia !!

* this is a long one so i hope you all enjoy till the very end !!

waking up you already knew it would be a particularly sadder day than the rest, as with each day it draws closer to the day you and your ex boyfriend, nishimura riki, broke up. which would now complete a year. a year without, who you consider, your special someone. a year without your best friend. just a year without him.

this is what you both were afraid of when you both started dating. you both were afraid of that one dreaded day where you two would split, but you guys never thought it would happen. that night you both lost the most important thing in your lives.

in the beginning of the break up it was of course very hard to deal with. yes it was a mutual agreement but you both couldn’t help but feel that it was a mistake. both were too afraid to speak up about how they truly feel after they had already agreed to split and that right there was their true problem. communication. you both became very closed off when it came to communicating youre feelings. you both would simply ask each other what was wrong and if neither said anything, it simply gets brushed off.

throughout the rest of the day it was quite noticeable that your mood was down. your friends came up to you, called and even messaged you asking if you were doing okay, but of course you simply said you were fine. it had been like this ever since the beginning of this month. wake up sadder than yesterday and have people ask you if you were feeling okay and you saying you were fine.

you missed riki very badly as did he. it’s unbelievable how you two have gone this far without getting back in contact. the only thing you can think of is going on a late night walk so you grabbed your jacket and headed out.

since it was quite late, the streets were quiet with the occasional cars passing by and the whistle of the wind. while on the walk you started to remember some memories you had with riki, but there was one memory that you will forever cherish. the day you and riki shared your first kiss.

ʚɞ

you and riki have been dating for 3 months and you guys couldnt be happier. since today marks the third month, riki wanted to take you on a sweet date. he surprised you by taking you to a place where you can paint your own pottery. oh how cute this date was. you both decided to make a matching set together.

“so what should we paint my love?” said riki while looking at you with excitement. “ooo do you wanna make a matching set? i think that would be cute!” you said grabbing onto his hand almost jumping in your seat from excitement. “yeah sure but what?” he scooted his chair closer to yours still holding your hand since he felt so far from you even though he was just inches away. “i found this cute design but lets add something to the bottom so its more personalized!” you show him the image of what you wanted to do.

rikis heart melted looking at the image. “lets add i love you at the bottom but yours will say riki mines will say y/n” he gives his idea hoping youd take it. “aww that so cute yes lets do it!” you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and started to get you guys stuff ready. rikis was still stuck on the kiss he received on the cheek. even though youve done it a million times, your lips on him would always spread such warmth through him. he couldnt get enough of you truly.

riki had already finished his cup but you were still at it. this gave riki time to really take in your presence and beauty. he adored the face you make when youre concentrated, getting all serious making sure your details came out perfectly. the way some strands of you hair tends to slowly fall in front of you which allows him to draw himself closer to you and brush it away to see more of your beauty. what he loved most was your eyes. the way your eyes always had this beautiful shine to them no matter what. he fell in love with how your eyes shine brighter than before whenever you look at him because thats the exact way he looks at you, with such love and adoration.

you both completed your art and left with your new mugs. the rest of the day was spent going into some stores buying some cute matching things then ultimately a little cafe. after the cafe it was already dark so to end off the night, you and riki decided to go on a simple walk in the park talking about how your day went.

"i really enjoyed our date kiki, i cant wait to use my mug and all these cute new matching stuff we have now!" you say with a little giggle. oh how he loved your little giggle and your laugh all around. simply just you in general is what he loved so much. "me too and i cant wait to go on many more with you my love" he smiles softly at you.

coming up under a tree, you stare at the moon in awe, “its so beautiful kiki” you continue to look up unaware of rikis gaze on you. “yeah it really is beautiful” he says while you turn to catch his enchanted gaze at you. “y/n..i love you more than anything in this world. youre so beautiful and you always know how to light up someones day even with just that pretty smile of yours and you truly mean the world to me.” as riki says this you cant help but only be able to utter the words “i love you-” before you can finish, you feel his soft lips on yours. it felt like fireworks went off as soon as it happened. you never wanted this moment to end and neither did he. as you two pulled apart you two simply giggle sweetly and rest your foreheads against each others staring at each other with nothing but love.

ʚɞ

its almost like you and riki were still connected somehow because he too was also doing the exact same thing as you. he too was feeling the same as you, sadder than before thinking about how hes been away from you for almost a year. he too decided to take a late night walk and started to reminisce all the times hes been with you, the memories he holds so dear to his heart. especially that one.

i also say you two are still connected because those oh so “different paths” unconsciously lead you both to the exact same place you shared that special moment. you both look up at each other, stunned youre both here right now. slowly you two inched your way closer to each other, now standing right in the same special spot.

you both say hi at the same time which makes you two let out a small chuckle. “so..how have you been?” you asked and right there riki broke. he had to tell you how he was truly feeling, the feeling of utter loneliness. the feeling of that there was something missing from his life and it was you. you were everything he needed and he wanted no he needed you back. “can i be honest with you?” he asked sincerely. “yeah you know you can always be honest with me kiki.” oh that sweet nickname you gave him always made him feel so warm inside. it made him feel so special since it was only you who called him that and he loved it so much.

“well then in all honesty i havent been feeling good recently as it draws closer to one year of us being apart. i dont know how or why i havent reached out to you, i miss you so much. i feel as a whole part of me is missing. youre my missing piece y/n. on the walk here you were all i thought of, all those beautiful memories we have had. heck i still use our matching mug that we made and have all our matching things with me always” he states as he brings up his shirt a bit to reveal his keys attached to his pants with the matching keychains you bought as well as the matching ring you two had bought on his finger. seeing that you brought out your keychain and showed your ring too. you two never did let go of each other.

at the sight of this, you and riki both started to tear up. “please baby, i dont want to be away from you anymore” riki stated as a tear started to fall. you got closer and reached your hand up to his cheek to wipe away his tear smiling softly. “me neither kiki” and with that you slowly leaned in to give him a soft yet passionate kiss to his lips and with a quick yet gentle motion he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you in closer to him. oh how he missed you being this close. eventually you pull away much to you and rikis dismay, “will you be mine again? forever this time?” riki asks with a smile, bringing up one hand to softly stroke your cheek. “yes of course. i love you so much kiki” she smiles. “i love you so much more” he says leaning in for another sweet kiss.

even on “different paths” you and riki found a way back into each others arms and what better place to find each other again than where it all truly began.

* if you made it to the end thank you and i hope you liked it ilya !!

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

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megamindsecretlair · 9 hours ago

Text

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics.

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two.

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid.

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid.

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium.

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not.

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him.

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona.

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad.

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide.

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck.

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender.

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster.

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode.

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit.

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than.

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something.

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them.

“You okay?” Terry asked.

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out.

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly.

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly.

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top.

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit.

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room.

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding.

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu.

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you.

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said.

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile.

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage?

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties.

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace.

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world.

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him.

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow.

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you.

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam.

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other.

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him.

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people.

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger.

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously.

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive.

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence.

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody.

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore.

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline.

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting.

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products.

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out.

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy.

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.”

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found.

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else.

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone?

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave?

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds.

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you?

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you.

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this.

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this.

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right.

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door?

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity.

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man.

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run.

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right?

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you.

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free.

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt.

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room.

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation.

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up.

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone.

“Terry!” You yelled.

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you.

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries.

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy.

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room.

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said.

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable.

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again.

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck?

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing.

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off.

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep.

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier?

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived.

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now?

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off.

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out.

But why didn’t Terry take you with him?

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone.

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go?

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?”

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer.

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said.

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived.

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it.

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened.

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with.

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser?

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said.

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security.

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door.

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.”

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked.

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned.

“Hey,” Terry said.

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said.

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said.

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time.

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that.

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did.

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words.

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment.

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly.

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said.

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod.

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others.

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right.

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile.

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around.

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.”

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom.

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked.

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.”

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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mythalism · 2 days ago

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the timing of someone apparently shitting on me for being a veilguard hater on some remote corner of tumblr is so funny because i was actually just in the shower like an hour before listening to the atonement ending suite and thinking about the things that i love about veilguard after almost 2 months of marinating on it, so apologies for destroying my reputation as a certified HATER!!!!!!! but i actually wanted to share these earlier so im still going to. i think its interesting especially because ive seen a lot of people that hate these same things about the game, but my opinion has stayed the same. its also interesting because OVERALL the more i think about veilguard the more i dislike it, but for these certain aspects, the more i think about them the more i love them.

THAT FUCKING SONG!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!! even two months later i get choked up listening to it. and guys....... i dont listen to lost elf anymore. like i just dont even think of it. thats not to say trevor morris isnt the greatest of all time, and the atonement ending song relies heavily on lost elf. i know. but my favorite parts of the atonement song are not even lost elf!!! overall i missed trevor deeply, i did not like the veilguard soundtrack. i even turned the music volume to 0 at some points because it felt like nails on a chalkboard to me (ghilannain fight music made me want to d*e). HOWEVER. this is supposed to be positive. and if you ask me to choose lost elf vs atonement theme... im choosing atonement theme. every time. the way it adds to lost elf is wonderful. it gives me chills. it is so haunting. i will never tire of it. I LOVE THIS FUCKING SOOOOOONG. i also love the dread wolf song. so honorable mention to that one.

i love the solavellan ending. i know people hate it but nothing i have seen has convinced me to abandon my love for it. it is the best ending we could have possibly gotten in a game where the veil stayed up. and yes obviously i think the veil should have come down. but my IDEAL ending would have been veil down, rook takes over the mantle of dread wolf, solas and lavellan give up their mortal bodies and become spirits together and ascend to the fade. and honestly thats pretty much what happens, just without the veil. i love the mythological fairy tale vibe. i love the bittersweetness. i love that it is both tragic and hopeful. i love that it is vague enough to leave the future open. i love that the devs refuse to confirm where exactly in the fade they are. i love the sigyn loki eros psyche parallels. i love the maker and andraste parallels. could it have been built up to better? absolutely. but thats an issue with the build up, not the ending. i thought solas was going to die and we were going to watch the light go out of his eyes as lavellan held him and sobbed. it is so much more hopeful than i expected. i love that we get to redeem him through the power of love. i love that lavellan forgives him. i love that they survive. I LOVE IT!!!! and i love it the more i think about it. ive tried to hate it because i understand the perspective of people who didnt like it, but i literally cannot make myself dislike it.

i love the solavellan ending scene itself. i love how inky creeps in through the door. dont ask how she got up there its fine. i love how she sneaks up on him. i love that she comes up those stairs and it parallels the prologue scene with varric. i love that she has a zinger ready for him. "even if those you have wronged asked you to stop?" oh its so fucking good. i love his pathetic defeated "vhenan". i love that he rejects her again. i love that he apologizes but stays true to his goals. i love that it takes something beyond lavellan and the modern world to finally crack him. i love the way he looks at mythal like a kicked puppy. i love the way he cannot meet her eyes. i love the way he crumples and sobs and we see a completely different side of him that I NEVER FUCKING EXPECTED TO SEE IN A MILLION YEARS???? i love mythal's coldness and frankness as she releases him. i love that she doesn't apologize. i love how fucked up and messy it is. i love how it speaks to their entire relationship being fucked up and messy. i love that it has given me so much to chew on about what the fuck was going on with them. i love the way lavellan kneels so she can see his face. i love that she speaks in elvhen (even if the translation leaves something to be desired). i love that its all in the hallelujah cadence. i love that he assumes she wont come with him. i love that she has to chase after him one more time. i love his fucking tear mesh. i love his face when he looks at her. i love that their scene is wedding coded. i dont love the kiss but im trying to be positive and its tiny in the grand scheme. i love her hand on his shoulder as they step into the fade. i have a few complaints about the scene but none of them are enough to cheapen my enjoyment of it.

i fucking love fragment mythal. obviously. but seriously. i love the scene where you get her approval its one of my favorites in the entire game. i love that its hard to get her approval. i love that she fucking kills you if you piss her off. i love her lines. "after he killed the swamp witch. AND WEPT." BITCH!!!! and "you are a thousand years from knowing the correct words" or whatever. I LOVE HER. i love how fucking nasty she is. i love how she has clearly been stewing in resentment for thousands of years. i love that she is rude and proud and haughty. i love that she'd be looking down her nose at you if she wasn't like 5 ft tall. i love the way she falls backwards off the ledge with her arms out and closes her eyes to transform into a fucking dragon. i love her condescension. i love the decapitated wolf statues in the background. i love the note from felassan that reveals solas made her an entire island for herself. i love that she reveals that he put her there. i love that he could not bring himself to visit her even once. ohhhhh my god it makes me dizzy. talking to her was a moment where the game felt like dragon age to me.

i love my lavellan in this game. did i want WAY more of her? yeah. and i expected more. but every moment we got i loved. the first scene with her is mostly whatever its appropriately formal for her meeting a stranger. but the way she stutters when talking about solas? when asking rook to give him a chance by using the wolf statue to learn more about him? the way she looks down and to the side as she says it? banger. masterpiece. the act 3 conversation makes me have to lay down. i can barely even talk about it without foaming at the mouth. i love her characterization. i love that she orders rook to tell her something like she has gotten used to the power of her title as inquisitor. i love her subtle desperation to have her hope for him validated cloaked under her inquisitor mask. i love how it begins to crack as the conversation goes on and she gets lost in the memories of him. i love her sincerity. i love the way she speaks bluntly and unapologetically of her love. i love her facial expressions and her furrowed brow. i love how confident and self assured she is. "or maybe im the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so that i do not have to face my folly; that i loved someone who made such terrible mistakes. that i might love him still" IS MY FAVORITE LINE IN THE ENTIRE GAME. perhaps. PERHAPS. in all of dragon age. yes im serious. its that insane to me. it feels like shakespeare wrote it. im only half kidding. i was rolling on the floor of my bedroom when i heard it. it still gives me chills. i love that her lines are in the hallelujah cadence. i love the way she talks about their relationship. i love how she is angry and indignant about his lies to her but that does not infringe upon her love. i love when she says "how could i have fallen in love with a god and not known? why didnt he tell me?' i love how sure she is that she knows the true solas. i love every word out of her mouth. i love all of it. that is my favorite scene in the game. i love when she shows up with dorian in the end. i love "is there any chance, any chance at all that he'd listen to reason?" i love her face when she says it. i love "speaking from the heart, inquisitor?" i love when dorian asks if shes heading out afterwards and she says "something like that" BE SOOOO FRRRR. SHE WAS FUCKING SCHEMING. there was not a moment that she was on screen that i did not love.

overall, i am happy with solas in this game. this one is last because its the weakest because i do criticisms but overall, i think it was fine LOL. my biggest worry was that they were going to completely woobify him and make him above reproach and erase the negative sides of him in favor of making him MORE sympathetic to new players. the fact that we got the opposite is crazy, but i vastly prefer it. id rather have him be too villainous than robbed of his complexity to be more palatable. that would have fully ruined the game for me. so the fact that we got to see him being an absolute prick little shit who betrayed us TWICE was wonderful. i loved being betrayed. i love the scene where he puts rook in the regret prison. i LOVE how he appears behind rooks shoulder in flashes and the player can see him but rook cant. i love how he circles rook like prey. i love how he does that cunty little thing with his hand over the dagger. i love that he taunts rook. i love that he doesnt actually take the dagger from them and instead waits for it to fall into his hand. its so immortal trickster god. i love that fucking scene. i love the "by my hand" line and how he looks you in the face as he manipulates his words so expertly. i love his banters with the companions. i looooooooved listening to him beef with elgar'nan. it felt so HIM. i was like YES!!!! THIS IS THE DREAD WOLF I WANTED TO MEET!!!! i was screaming during that quest. anyway. i wanted more of him. yeah. i dont really care that much that the companions and general story is weirdly unsympathetic to him. because it obviously didnt work!!! LMFAOOO 72% people still decided to redeem him so whatever! hes still pookie. im just so glad they didnt make him boring and lame. all my issues along this vein revolve more around the veil than solas, so i consider it a separate issue. i loved seeing mean nasty cunty trickster god.

ok in retrospect this list isnt that long KJHREGKJERG. however all of these things are very important to me so the fact that i love them is essential. like i truly got what i needed out of this game. i criticize it a lot but i would have done that even if the game was a 9/10 for me. i do it to literally everything i love. except fmab because its above reproach. but literally everything else. i was writing essays criticizing the percy jackson books on tumblr when i was 15. i have been criticizing dragon age online for 5+ years. veilguard aint special in catching my heat. critical analysis is in my soul. anyway i wanted banger solavellan ending that i could chew on for years and i got it. thats all i needed! ok now going to go listen to atonement ending suite again and transcend into the astral plane

#mine.txt

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heal-the-ashes · 3 days ago

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Just wanted to say: Thank you for all the replies and suggestions!! For the songs I don't know (the ones from the plvspw crossover) I'll probably end up listening to them. However, I was like "wait! what is this unreleased azran legacy song???" so I looked it up. I didn't know it was just The Last Golem. BUT I then found something COOL? LIKE REALLY COOL and I want to share it!!

[EDIT: These videos have fast-paced image changes!! Please keep this in mind if you're going to watch watch them but I usually just listen to them!!

the lbmr one is okay in my opinion though :) ]

This is by a channel called DearestHershel and like these remixes BLEW ME AWAY (guys i cried so hard). Like I. I want to make so many analyses on them its not even funny (it kind of is). The many things in his MM remix is just... It broke my heart so badly. 100 times over. The LBMR one too. (AND there's a cast of voice actors who voiced over key lines!!! THATS SO COOL)

Currently, there's remixes for Curious Village, Diabolical Box / Pandora's Box, Unwound Future / Lost Future, Last Spectre / Spectre's Call, Miracle Mask, Azran Legacy, and Layton Brothers' Mystery Room.

Pleaaaaaaase give these a listen if you haven't heard them before. They're SO good!!

(i may come back to these to give my thoughts 💔)

Been thinking about it and just never posted, but hey Layton fandom: What's your guys' favorite ost? Can be from any spin-offs, just has to be related to Layton games. Oh and Eternal Diva counts too :)

Mine's probably the Miracle Mask main theme.

#ITS SO GOOD!!!!!#theres so many details in these remixes and just. its. its so good #they were clearly made by someone who loves the series and the fact #that you can tell via listening is just so so wonderful to me #i am so glad to have played all of these games and know the references #and understand where this love is coming from #it touched me so well i couldnt stop shutting up about it for like 3 hours after #i found them and all #i STILL cant shut up about them actually #especially the MM and LBMR ones #anyway please please listen to these if you havent already #they're AMAZING #not my music #again these are made by DearestHershel #professor layton #curious village #diabolical box #pandoras box #unwound future #lost future #last specter #spectres call #i wish there was an eternal diva one #miracle mask #azran legacy #lbmr #layton brothers mystery room

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shrimptacodaniels · 2 days ago

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I MUST CONTINUE TO SHARE THE WEALTH

loser trio headcanons

—PART TWO—

RICHIE LIPSCHITZ

CATTY. this man was so judgmental and snarky!!!! hater supreme!!!

absolutely annihilating the homies was his love language

was vegan for all of high school (hated thinking about putting animals in pain).

impulse dyed his hair blue for the first time sophomore year at 2am on a thursday.

he also cut his own hair!! especially when he was bored. cut ruth’s as well from time to time

owned a (very old) nokia phone until he was sixteen (he got an iPhone for his birthday)

got into photography because of a rabbit hole of cosplaytok. he wanted to learn how to do what the greats do

has 6 fan accounts on tiktok

watched glee with ruth religiously on bus rides to/from school. they met in the eighth grade and live in the same district (8 minutes away from each other).

LOVES the death note musical

kept snacks stocked for pete at all times because of his blood sugar.

was always the first person to be in the nurse’s office with pete following dizzy spells

huge karaoke guy. his go-to song was the pokemon theme (followed by ariana grande’s “problem”)

owned cat headphones FOR SURE.

also owned a cat named jiji (kiki’s delivery service reference). jiji died his freshman year of high school

would have gone into film or animation in college. OR!!! cosmetology school. he loved hair and nails and makeup and yapping. ideal salon employee.

pete got him his first ever sketchbook for christmas when they were in eighth grade. richie loved to draw his friends - pete had very unique physicality and ruth amazing expressions.

rubs his head against people like a cat (freak. (affectionate))

guilty pleasure movie was the lindsay lohan parent trap

taught pete and ruth how to play poker of new year’s eve 2018. they made it a tradition to play every year after.

hosts the trio most often of the group. they have their most memorable sleepovers in his room

dominates jackbox games. in an almost terrifying way. you seriously cannot win quiplash if richie’s playing

his favorite band is good kid (no mom i’m not projecting. i just think of him whenever they come up on shuffle.)

#hatchetverse #hatchetfield #richie lipschitz #nerdy prudes must die #jon matteson #hatchetblr #starkid npmd #npmd #starkid #my love my light #my boy

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rjshope · 2 days ago

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gifmaker / cc wrapped 2024!

I was tagged by most beloveds @raplinenthusiasts @cosmicdreamgrl @jkvjimin @cordiallyfuturedwight @yooboobies @taehyunghobi and @jinstronaut(thank you guys🖤🌷) to share my most popular posts and my favorite ones.

Let's go!

january:

⟡ Yoongi with painted hands // he's cute here no arguments from me ♡ adorkable namgi // lol ♡ that Namjoon live // i'm still recovering btw

february:

⟡ happy Hope on the street♡ rapline saving Jin // i love how you can see their personalities here ♡ Jimin as the cutest dinosaur ever // esp soft for this one

march:

⟡ thank you fo being my artist Jimin live // he said very important thing here ♡ namjin bickering (+Hobi enjoying the show) // i live for bickering namjin ♡ Hobi being Yoongi's favorite seat // yoongi never beating lil meow meow allegations

april:

⟡ Tae and his big brown eyes // y'all just couldn't resist him could you?😁 ♡ that Malta Namjoon // despite the fact that this is my least fav bv season i have a soft spot for this gifset ♡ Dimple gifset for Kayla's birthday // very special work for my very special person🌷

may:

⟡ vibing Namjoon // lmao this is just two simplest b&w gifs and what have y'all done??? 🙈🙈 ♡ namjin laughing // luv my soft boys ♡ Nuts MV // i'm just a weak woman what do you want from me

june:

⟡ SYS Final Kim Taehyung // i'm happy with it, i love this gifset very much <3 ♡ hyung line dynamic in a nutshell // they never fail to crack me up lmao ♡ laughing namgi // so wholesome i love them so much!

july:

⟡ Jin being a good infuence on Namjoon pt.2 // i carried the thought of this gifset in my head for two years, it displays perfectly why these two are so important to me and it's nice to see this post being so appreciated ♡ Hobi being handsome to infinity and beyond // i'm still lost for words you know ♡ Tae gifset for Annie's birthday // this one is very important to me bc it took a lot of my time, blood and sweat to make it, and seeing it floped breaks my heart. Well at least Annie liked it, that's the most important thing. ♡ namjin "revenge is sweet" gifset // if you hear someone making weird evil giggling noises that's me

august:

⟡ jihope being jihope // this is not a gifset this is a happy pill ♡ hyung line from memories of 2015 // i hope i don't need to explain this?!?! ♡ RJ comforting rapline // i'm still sobbing

september:

⟡ namgi dealing with their Jin-hyung // lol#2 ♡ Namjoon birthday compilation gifset // it was my first time doing something like this and i really love how it turned out ♡ maknae line for Pat's birthday // i know this is my post but whenever i see it i sit and look at it in awe (i'm allowed to be proud with myself from time to time) ♡ sope flirting // they are so married it's annoying

october:

⟡ Jin and his mindset // if more of us were like him it would be a merrier place (yes, quoting king of my heart here) ♡ namseok gifset for Julia's birthday // i had so much fun making these ♡ peach Namjoon // iykyk ♡ winter package 2020 hyung line // rare photoshoot with just four of them in the same unit

november:

⟡ Jin, Joon, the saxophone and Jimmy Fallon // totally agree with y'all😌 ♡ Bangbangcon namgi // Yoongi's smile i'm gonna sob ♡ Namjoon and his healing smile // i miss him so much ♡ Jin performing Another Level // i do not make performances gifset often and this is a good song and a good performance and i love how these look

december:

⟡ cute barefaced Yoongi from ITS1 // lol we all are so whipped for him ♡ Jin for Dicon // playing with color isolation was fun ♡ soft (and a bit drunken) Hobi from ITS1 // the look on his face make my heart flutter ♡ cuteness agression namgi // i can't stop giggling, Yoongi your crush is showing ♡ ON Kinetic Manifesto Film Shoot Sketch | Hyung line // my boys looking fine as hell, that's it that's the tweet

Idk if it me or you really can see how my january gifs look different from december gifs. It didn't happen on purpose, but it's something that is interesting to see.

It fun to see how my year started with 2019 year and with MOTS: Persona era. And now i'm closing it by entering BE and Life Goes On era *breathes out* Yeah, life goes on and my journey goes on as well😁

Anyway it was my second year here and i'd like to thank you all for staying with me, for you support, for your reblogs and comments, it means a lot💖 I enjoyed this ride, let's continue next year with the boys!

tagging @namchyoon @kimtaegis @jung-koook @hvseoks @btsiu

@taee @kth1 @heybaetae @oumoumimi (no pressure ofc <3)

#btsgif #btsedit #userdimple #raplineuser #useremmeline #creatyoon #userpat #tag game

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mindless-existence1 · 1 day ago

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More sfw Mha boyfriend headcanons

Authors note: Kinda a part 2 but does relate to the other one at all. My friend helped me with the Ida stuff so thanks pookie. Also this is kinda an in-between fic just so then I can keep myself motivated to write the requests I have

Contents: I think like one curse word

Pt1

Mha Masterlist

My Masterlist

Includes: Bakugo, Denki, Ida, and Tokoyami

Ida would schedule times to hang out with you when he's free. Not because he like hates you or smth but he just has a very set schedule he likes to stick to. If you want to hang out outside of the set time then most likely it'll turn into a study date.

Denki is a yapper and he often yaps about you. His poor friends have to deal with him mentioning you constantly. Something completely random comes up and he's going "Oh I remember y/n was talking about that one time, speaking of them..." he's a simple man you loves his partner.

Tokoyami is a drawer I feel. He'd have a sketch book/journal he carries around for sure. In a not creepy way he'd draw yiu a lot. Like a muse kind of way. He'd never show you butbthen you find it and he has to explain how he just finds you so perfect and then after that he shows you his drawings.

Bakugo would definitely not even realize how in love with you he is untill kirishima or someone mentions it and then he's noticing how different he acts with you. Have him tied around you damn finger.

Ida definitely wakes up hella early to exercise and specifically run (obviously). He'll try to get you to wake up early to but often times he wants to wake up way to early. You just kiss him goodbye most mornings and fall promptly back to sleep.

Tokoyami is a poet I bet. Or at least a song writer which is basically the same thing. His muse? You. In his journel/sketch book he has poems along with the drawings. Another thing he's probably embarrassed about bit high key he's just in love. He has so much to say but is too embarrassed to say it.

Denki would love to share headphones with you. I fear his tase in music would either be shit or the best in the planet. If it's bad you help him shape it to be better. He'd love to keep his in during class so then he can think about you isntead of whatever boring thing you are getting taught. Also I fear he'd forget to charge them all the time.

Bakugo is the type of guy to tell you no while simultaneously doing it. Like you ask him "could you get me a glass of water?" "No is already getting up to get a glass" or he'd tell you know and wait all of 15 seconds before doing it for you.

Denki when he gets nervous will let out little zaps on accident. As most the tickle or leave a slight sting but nothing crazy. So for your first kiss he's freaking out, obviously, and accidently zaps you. Face is bright red and he's now embarrassed for the rest of his life. Definitely wants to go die in a hole but when you start laughing and kiss him anyway he's fine.

Tokoyami would also like to share earbuds with you but like I said before his music taste is immaculate. Personally I like Korn and maybe im biased but I think he'd like that band to. And just all around metal/rock bands. But also just good music in general. Unlike denki he'd charge his earbuds religiously. He'd die without his music same bro.

Bakugo after a hard day of training would go straight to your dorm. Somehow he thinks it's way more comfortable then his. He just plop down on your bed before a shower before changing clothes anything. Which would be ew but he'd eventually do all that but first he needs a kiss and small cuddle with his partner first.

Ida would look up relationship stuff. This is probably cringe but like I fear he'd get nervous about his first relationship and then all the sudden he's looking up "how long should you date before you kiss your partner?" Eventually he realizes he just needs to take everything at his own speed.

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unknownmind98 · 2 days ago

Text

a love song over time - part 3

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60645565/chapters/157278214

|-|-|

Chloe sits on the porch of her home, a cup of hot chocolate in hand as Bella perches beside her holding her own. The winter sun is just setting over the trees, the recent snowfall having decorated the scenery in a blissful white atmosphere. Chloe’s mind falls to a certain DJ, and she unknowingly smiles, her gaze fixated on the birds setting for the evening.

“Momma?” Bella asks, disrupting her from her thoughts. Her big, round eyes glance up towards her mother.

Chloe smiles softly, bringing her gaze towards her, “What is it, bug?”

Tilting her head, Bellas curls bounce slightly as she gives her a thoughtful look. “Is Beca your best friend?”

The question catches Chloe off guard, and she blinks a few times in surprise. “Well, yes…” She confirms, pausing to think of her next words. “She’s one of my best friends.” She adds, a small grin forming as she thinks of the brunette. “Why do you ask?” She quizzes, wrapping an arm around the girl.

Bella shrugs, her petite hands fiddling with her bright yellow mug, one that she got for her birthday; it’s comically large with ladybug on the front. “You’re always happy when you talk about her. And I saw you guys hug a lot when she was here. Like, a lot a lot.” She emphases, taking a slurp of her hot chocolate.

Chloe can’t help the snort as her cheeks tinge pink. She hadn’t realized Bella had caught on to their closeness. “Well, she’s very special to me.” The redhead says, leaning her head on Bella’s.

Bella nods and watches the birds for a moment. Suddenly her eyes sparkle with curiosity, and she sits up and looks at her mom. “Is she like Daddy?”

Chloe’s eyebrows raise at the innocent question and her heart skips a beat. She hesitates, unsure on how to answer. “Well, Beca isn’t like Daddy. She’s…” Chloe pauses, “Well she’s different. But she’s someone very important to me. Someone I care about a lot.”

Bella ponders this for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. “Okay.” She says, “I like her. She makes you laugh.”

Chloe’s heart swells at her daughter’s simple observation and she pulls her in close. “I like her too. She makes me very happy.”

And Bella grins, leaning into her mother. “You should tell her that.”

The older Beales breath catches in her throat at the thought of that. Leaning down she plants a kiss against Bellas bright red hair. “Maybe I will,” she says softly, more so to herself than to Bella.

She can’t deny she’s been thinking about the brunette a lot, since she left. They hadn’t spoken about what happened between them or any of the intimacy they shared. Though she can’t deny, she really really likes how Beca makes her feel.

She feels so alive. So seen and wanted. Something that she hasn’t felt in a while.

She thinks back to her past relationship with Tom and sighs.

After Bella was born, Chloe had noticed changes in him. Though he was overjoyed to be a father and attentive to Bella, eager to provide for her every need, he withdrew further from Chloe. He became quieter, more distant, and his warm, spontaneous affection gave way to a poised detachment.

At first, Chloe chalked it up to her own insecurities. She’d gained a bit of weight during her pregnancy, and the long nights with a newborn had left her feeling drained and distorted. She told herself that with time, things would return to normal- that she would feel desirable again, and Tom would see her the way he once did.

But that moment never came. Instead, Tom threw himself into his work. He became consumed by long hours and endless projects, often locking himself away in his office or traveling on work trips that seemed to grow more frequent. Chloe’s attempts to bridge the gap were met with vague excuses and distracted reassurances.

Over time, suspicion began to creep into Chloe’s mind. Tom’s absences became harder to explain, and the emotional distance between them felt overwhelming. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone else, though she never found concrete proof. It was a suspicion that lingered in the back of her mind, unspoken but ever-present.

He was still a great father to Bella, doting and involved… when he was around. But as a partner, he had faded away, leaving Chloe to navigate her feelings of loss and loneliness on her own. It was a slow unravelling of the life they’d built together, and by the time Chloe truly acknowledged it, the damage was already done.

There were nights when Chloe would sit alone in the quiet of their home and think about her days in college. Back then, she had been so confident- fearless, even. She’d been surrounded by the Bellas: her family, constantly laughing, and always the centre of attention in any room she walked into. She missed that version of herself, the one who didn’t second-guess every move, who felt beautiful and vibrant without needing anyone else’s validation. The one that walked confidently, naked might I add, into another’s shower stall just because she liked the voice coming from it.

She yearned for that confidence now, for the freedom to be that courageous self. She found that when she was with Beca, glimpses of that old spark would flicker through the broken walls. Beca’s sharp wit and easy smile reminded Chloe of who she used to be and made her believe, if only for a moment, that she could find that person again.

No wait scratch that, she knows she can.

Beca always brought out the best in her, she thinks. From the moment they met to the moment they got their small crappy apartment in New York all those years ago.

It’s always been Beca.

Beca was the reason the Bellas became what they are. Beca is the reason she named her daughter after the acapella group. Beca made them into something she never thought could be possible.

Beca made her feel beautiful.

It’s always been Beca.

Chloe knows that. Though she always did know it, she’s just no longer afraid to admit it.

She knows it’s time to stop dancing around her feelings and have the conversation they need to have.

She just can’t help as she chews on her bottom lip thinking of when that time will be.

|-|-|

Meanwhile in New York, Beca paces the length of her living room, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She’s typed out three drafts of a text to Jesse, but none of them felt right. Finally, with a groan of frustration, she types out a simple message.

Beca (16.34pm) Hey, can I call you?

A few seconds later, her phone buzzes with Jesse’s reply.

Jesse (16.34pm) Yeah, what’s up?

Beca wastes no time with dialling his number. The moment he answers, she launches into a ramble. “So, I think I need advice, and you are kind of my go-to for things like this,” Running a hand through her hair, she continues, “so you had me thinking last night, and I think you’re right.”

She hears Jesse chuckle on the other end and rolls her eyes.

“Man, shut up-”

“I told you!” He interrupts, and she can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Beca oblivious as ever,” She mocks, “But seriously, what do I do?” She plops herself down onto the couch, sighing loudly as her ramble continues, “Dude I have no idea what to do or say,” Beca admits. “I’m freaking out here.”

“Okay, first of all, breathe,” Jesse says, his voice a hint of amusement. “Second, maybe you two just need to talk it out. Like adults. Crazy idea, I know.”

Beca huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s helpful. Real groundbreaking advice Jesse.” She deadpans.

“I aim to please,” Jesse replies, his grin practically audible. “Look, why don’t you invite her over to your place? Neutral territory. You can hash it out without distractions.” He suggests, and the idea makes her pause. “You said it last night, that she’s going on break soon for the holidays.” He adds, and she can imagine him shrugging.

Nodding slowly to herself, Beca contemplates the idea. She supposes it would be nice for Bella to experience New York around the holidays. “That could work.” She replies, her fingers tapping against her black jeans. “That could totally work right?”

“Right.”

“And if it doesn’t, I can just curl up into a ball and die.”

“Becs.”

“Because she probably already has plans made-”

“Beca!” Jesse exclaims down the line making her stop. “Shut up.” He speaks. “Just send her a message. Trust me it’ll be aca-fine.”

|-|-|

Beca (19.29pm) Sup Beale, was curious, what’s your plans for the holidays besides being at home?

Chloe (19. 34pm) hi to you too stranger x

Chloe (19. 34pm) and you pretty much just summed it up. I’ll be at home with Bella. Tom’s busy with work

Beca (19. 35pm) shucks, well…. I know it’s a crazy idea, and you can say no if you want!

Beca (19. 35pm) would you and bella like to come here?

Chloe (19.38pm) as in New York?

Beca (19.40pm) yeah.. only if you want!

Beca (19.41pm) There’s no pressure obviously

Chloe (19.42pm) aww we’d love too :)

Chloe (19.42pm) Been thinking about u a lot x

Beca (19.43pm) huh… funny

Beca (19.44pm) Cuz I’ve been thinking about you a lot too

Chloe (19.45pm) really? Tell me more ;)

Beca (19.46pm) Yeah, just… you know, being around again you felt really nice. I missed being around you

Chloe (19.47pm) I missed it too. Feels like ages since we spent time together

Beca (19.48pm) Tell me about it. But I feel like since it’s the holidays and we both have time off we should totally like hang out

Chloe (19.50pm) Hang out? Is that what we’re calling this ;) but no I get u, and New York sounds like the perfect place to escape to for a bit. I miss it there

Beca (19.51pm) yep that’s what we’re calling it beale, but oh! I have some new spots I’ve been dying to show you that opened recently

Chloe (19.53pm) do tell!

Beca (19.54pm) nah uh beale, I’m gonna wait until you’re here to show you lol

Chloe (19.56pm) ahh the anticipation.

Chloe (19.56pm) I finish work this Friday and Bella is on Christmas break too, so we can be there Sunday afternoon maybe?

Beca (19.57pm) Awes, I’ll book you the flights

Chloe (19.57pm) oh no! you don’t have to bec

Beca (19.58pm) Shush beale, I want to ;) let me know when you land and I’ll come pick you up x

|-|-|

The terminal at JFK was buzzing with commotion, not unknown for such a place but with Christmas right around the corner, it was more chaotic with families reuniting, friends visiting and last-minute flights.

Chloe stands near the baggage claim, clutching Bellas’s hand as they wait patiently for their luggage. Once they receive it, Chloe takes her daughter over to a nearby Starbucks as they wait for Beca. The young girl, wide eyed as ever, is bouncing in her seat, craning her neck in hopes of seeing the brunette.

“Momma when will she be here?” Bella asks for the third time, impatiently.

Chloe chuckles softly at her excitement, “Soon, bug.” She says, “She’s probably stuck in traffic.” She reassures, though her own heart is fluttering with anticipation. It hadn’t been long since she last saw her best friend, but she can’t deny the butterflies currently dancing in her stomach thinking about her.

As she finishes up her latte, she hears the distinct voice of one Beca Mitchell.

“There you guys are!”

Turning towards the voice, Chloe sees Beca weaving her way through the queue, her hair slightly disheveled, and bright rosy cheeks tainting her face.

Chloe thinks it’s adorable.

There’s a grin planted across the DJ’s face as she spots them. She’s dawned in a simple leather jacket over a casual T-shirt and plain jeans. A classic Beca look.

Chloe thinks it’s more attractive than it needs to be.

It’s quite distracting, honestly.

Bella sees her and lets out an excited squeal, jumping from her seat, not caring that it scrapes along the floor- a few customers glancing at the harsh sound- and beelines for Beca. The brunette chuckles as the young girl bounds into her, wrapping her tiny hands around her waist.

“There’s my bug!” Beca says, ruffling Bella’s hair amusingly before leaning down to wrap her arms around her. “Missed you, ya little troublemaker.”

Chloe grins as she approaches them, watching the interaction. “Hi.” She says fondly, sidling up beside them.

The brunette away from Bella and stands up straight and smirks, “Hey there.” Leaning in she places a chaste kiss on Chloe’s cheek. “You look great,” She sneakily whispers into her ear.

Chloe can’t help the faint blush that rushes to her cheeks and hides it by pulling Beca into a warm embrace.

“So do you,” She replies, teasingly.

And there’s that familiar spark igniting inside her again.

|-|-|

As they make their way towards Beca’s apartment, the hum of Christmas music plays faintly over the speakers. Chloe sits in the passenger side, a growing grin on her face as she steals glances at the brunette. Beca smirks when she notices and sends her a raised eyebrow in return.

Bella sits in the back, eyes curious and wide as she looks out the window. Last time she was in New York was when she was 2 years old, which obviously she doesn’t remember much about. So, she’s pretty much experiencing it for the first time.

“So, Bella…” Beca speaks, breaking the comfortable silence. She catches the girl’s eye in the rearview mirror. “So, what’s our plan for Christmas this year?”

Bella beams at the question and she sits up excitedly, “Can we make cookies?” She asks, but before Beca can answer she’s rambling into her next request, “Oh and can we watch a bunch of movies and drink hot chocolate? Oh, and can we have marshmallows with the hot chocolate?”

“Bella, sweetheart, take a breath,” Chloe says, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay,” Bella replies, pausing to think of more ideas.

“Well, I think those are some solid plans, bug,” Beca nods, as she pulls up at a red light. Bella smiles widely at the appreciation. “I’m making you the boss,” Beca adds turning in her seat to face Bella. “So, whatever you say, goes.” She declares, leaning her hand out for a handshake. “Sound like a deal?”

“Deal.” Bella giggles, shaking her hand.

As the light switches to green, Beca shifts into gear and takes a left towards her apartment. “Shouldn’t be too long until we’re there.”

“I’m so excited to see your place.” Chloe says, her expression glowing as she glances out the window, watching the passersby.

The last time Chloe had visited New York a few years ago, Beca and Amy had still been sharing the tiny, cramped apartment they had called home for years. It had been cozy, in the most chaotic, mismatched way that only a small space shared by wildly different personalities could be. She remembers the pull-out couch that doubled as a bed that she and Beca shared. The cluttered coffee table usually buried under takeout containers and Fat Amy’s magazines. The faint sound of Beca’s music playing from the corner that served as her makeshift studio. The flat had character for sure, but it was far from luxurious.

Since then, things had changed. Beca had moved out and found a new place of her own, leaving Amy to claim the old apartment entirely as her own. Though that changed quickly as the blonde Tasmanian fell into family wealth. Chloe had seen glimpses of Beca's new home in the pictures she had sent over the years. The photos had been impressive- cozy modern furniture, large open windows letting in floods of natural light, and mismatched but clean decor that screamed “Beca finally has her life together… Kinda.” But pictures could only show so much, and Chloe was dying to see it in person.

It was clearly a massive upgrade from what they previously shared. Chloe could already imagine the difference- the shift from cramped to spacious, from cluttered to organized. She knew Beca had worked hard to get where she was, and this new apartment seemed like a tangible representation of how far she had come.

Chloe couldn’t be prouder of the brunette sat beside her.

Reaching over she places a hand on Beca’s thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze, as they pull up outside the apartment complex. The brunette shoots her a smirk, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on nerds.”

As they make their way towards the building, Bella skipping ahead of them, Chloe reaches down and intertwines her fingers around Beca’s. Bella is rambling about their evening plans, occasionally turning back to face them.

Beca gives Chloe’s hand a soft squeeze. “I was thinking,” she says, as they approach the elevator. Her free hand pulling the Beale’s luggage. “Well, I was hoping...” She pauses, sighing. “Well, I was thinking we could you know…” She shrugs, cursing herself for losing words right now. “Talk?”

She rolls her eyes at herself.

Incredible wordplay Mitchell.

“Talk?” The redhead quizzes curiously as they shuffle into the lift.

Beca nods, pressing the button to her floor, before glancing to Chloe. “Yeah… about us?” She explains, hopefully.

There she said it, Jesse should be proud.

Chloe’s head tilts, a small grin creeping up on her face. “Us?” She teases, easing Beca’s anxiety. “I like the sound of that,” her smile wide, “But that’s funny, Mitchell.” She adds, bumping her shoulder against the girls, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Chloe’s heart feels lighter as she realizes they’re on the same page. And for the first time in years, it feels like she’s exactly where she needs to be.

|-|-|

A few hours later, the trio are laid out on the couch in Beca’s living room. Home Alone on the TV in front of them.

The soft glow of the screen flickers in the otherwise dim living room, casting a warm, cozy light over the space. Beca had arranged the room, prior to their arrival, with the couch piled with soft blankets and a few scattered pillows. The air smelled of freshly made popcorn, courtesy of Jesse’s endless supply, something in which Bella had taken full advantage of with how much of it she has munched on.

Chloe sat with her legs stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket she’d claimed the moment they started the movie. Bella was nestled in between her- the 4-year-olds small body curled up under a soft navy blanket, her eyes glued to the screen as her head laid on her mother’s chest. Beca sat at the other end of the couch, feet tucked beneath her, occasionally casting a glance over at them rather than the movie.

“I still can’t believe this place is yours,” Chloe breaks the silence with a grin, looking around the mismatched space. “It’s so you…”

The walls are lined with framed pictures of artists, and records. It reminds her of Beca’s dorm back in her freshman year. Then just off to the side is a bookshelf filled with novels of all kinds, most likely gifted by Beca’s father.

What warms Chloe’s heart the most though, is the wall dedicated to the Bellas. It holds their first ICCA victory, when they got first place in Worlds, their graduation picture and a bunch of memories made over the years.

But what stands out the most is in the middle of the pictures. A simple quote written in an elegant cursive font.

“Once a Bella, always a Bella.”

Chuckling, Beca’s eyes flicker briefly from the screen to Chloe. “Yeah, I tried to go for something different you know, other than a box.” She says with a laugh, referring to their previous shared flat.

Bella, who had been quietly watching the movie, suddenly perks up and looks around, her small voice speaking “I like it here, Beca. Your home is so big!” She says, but quickly diverts her attention to the popcorn, “Can we have snacks again?”

Beca smiles warmly, shaking her head as she reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Of course, bug. Here you go,” she says, offering Bella a handful of popcorn. Bella happily grabs a few pieces and stuffs them into her mouth, much to her mother’s dismay.

Chloe disapproves but rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna feel sick with all that popcorn,” she says through a small giggle. “Also try save some for the rest of us, huh?”

Beca grins cheekily. “I don’t know, Chlo. Bella’s got the right idea- snacks are worth the sickness.” She declares, taking a handful to herself.

Bella nods, agreeing with the statement. “Yeah, snacks are the best!”

Chloe sends a warning finger towards the brunette, “Do not encourage her Mitchell,” she says, trying to keep up the stern façade, but it slips as Beca’s smirk grows.

Giving in, she sighs, “Ah fuck it, it’s Christmas.” Stretching her arm across, she takes the bowl of popcorn and scoffs some of it down, ignoring the loud snort from the brunette.

Beca whistles, her brows raising. “Beale! Do you speak to your mother with that language.” Her lips twitch into a mischievous smirk.

Chloe sends a deadpan look towards Beca and stares at her for a passing moment before breaking into a fit of laughter.

Rolling her eyes, she sets the bowl back down before snuggling in close to Bella. “Let’s just watch the movie.”

|-|-|

As the day evening ends, Beca and Chloe get ready to settle in for the night in the brunette’s bedroom. A simple yet cozy room. There’s a queen-sized bed lined against the wall, pillows and blankets decorating it. A small window looking over the neighbourhood on the wall opposite, covered by dark curtains. And just beside that is the door to the ensuite.

On the bedside table sits a lamp, casting a warm glow over the room as they move around, in a routine fashion as they fall into old habits from their time living together. Chloe stands in front of the desk, looking into the mirror as she brushes her hair, the movements slow and thoughtful.

Bella had fallen asleep during the movie, after giving herself a popcorn filled food coma, leaving Beca to carefully carry her into the guest room.

Speaking of the brunette, she’s just coming out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth and leans against the doorframe, watching Chloe for a moment.

The sight of her best friend- or whatever they are, brings a sense of calm to Beca that she finds it hard to describe.

They'd known each other for years, and yet, something incredible shifted recently. Maybe they could blame it on the holiday spirit or maybe, just maybe, it was just the slow, undeniable truth that had been building since the first day they met.

Chloe catching Beca’s gaze in the mirror, smirks, “What?” she asks softly, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Beca hesitates for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, trying to play it off. “Nothing. I just...” She rolls her eyes, giving in, “I just really like you being here. It feels nice.”

It feels right. Is what she wants to say.

Setting the brush down, Chloe turns to meet Beca’s eyes as she leans against the desk. The air in the room notably shifts, and Chloe’s expression softens. She bites her bottom lip sheepishly, “I like it, too,” she admits after a beat, her voice sounding more vulnerable than she intended it to.

“It feels... right.”

And Beca closes her eyes, leaning her head against the doorframe and lets out a chuckle, a grin peeking through.

“I was literally thinking the same thing.” She confesses sincerely, opening her eyes to find Chloe’s. The redhead pushes herself off the desk and walks lightly towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge. The brunette soon follows, planting herself beside her.

Beca couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Chloe's words. And so, as she sits here beside her, she slips her hand into the redheads, running her thumb across her knuckles.

“Chlo…” She starts, her voice quieter now, it has a hint of uncertainty that she tries her best to cover. “Ever since I left yours, I can’t stop thinking about you,” She says, honestly, pausing for a moment, “You know how shit I am with words,” She rolls her eyes at herself, unsure of how to phrase what had been building in her mind this past while, “But I just... you’re my best friend and-” Stuttering over her words, Beca huffs, “I’m sorry, I’m not great at this.”

Chloe squeezes her hand, encouragingly, “Take your time.” She says, knowing that Beca needs to find her words.

Beca’s gaze is fixated on Chloe as she speaks, “I really like you. And I know that sounds so cheesy, but it’s the truth.” She pauses, taking a breath, “I think I always have.” She confesses. “I guess I just didn’t realize it fully until recently.” Huffing out a laugh, she continues, “And I think- well I hope you feel similarly?”

Beca’s eyes are wide like a deer in headlights as she lets herself be vulnerable as she waits for a reply.

Chloe does feel the same.

And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t let Beca know it. So, nodding, she pulls Beca’s hand to her lips and places a kiss on it, letting it linger as she replies.

“I do.” She says, a gentle grin in place, “I really do.” She emphasizes, looking deeply into Beca’s eyes. “You actually have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” Her own eyes begin to gloss over but Beca quickly notices, and brings a hand to frame her face, gently caressing it.

“Really?” And her voice sounds so small, so exposed, as her fingers lay upon Chloe’s skin. Once again, the redhead nods, leaning into the touch. She chuckles and rolls her eyes, “Sorry, I don’t mean to tear up.” But when she glances at Beca, she sees it mirrored.

“What are we not like,” Beca teases, leaning her forehead on Chloes. Closing her eyes, she lets her hand trace Chloe’s jawline and feels the others girl come up to rest on hers.

Chloe understands. She knows how pathetic they must look right now. 30 something year olds, tearing up over this revelation. But it’s so much more than that. It’s something that had been building since they met. That connection. An understanding of one another. Yes, there had been blips in between but all that matters is that they’re here now. Together.

Unable to resist Chloe leans in and captures Beca’s lips in a lingering kiss. It’s chaste but holds so much passion. There’s a slight salty taste from the tears that escaped but neither care, nor acknowledge it.

When they pull back, they both have easy smiles in place and Beca is the first to speak.

“I really like how this feels,” She communicates, running her thumb along Chloe’s cheek, “But I’m so scared of messing things up.” She confesses, shyly.

Chloe untangles her hand in Beca’s and runs it along the brunette’s neck soothingly, “So I am.” She agrees. “But…” Leaning in, she gives Beca another peck, “I think it’s worth risk.” She admits, the words echoing against Beca’s lips.

Beca’s expression eases as she reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind Chloe’s ear, now holding the redhead’s face with both hands. “I agree,” she says, her voice filled with a quiet certainty of someone who knows exactly what they want.

The tension between them is palpable, as the hum of the city outside plays around them. Chloe’s eyes linger on Beca, her hand still wrapped around her neck. She feels her heart full, and her nerves spike to one hundred, as she finds herself lost in the brunette’s gaze.

She sees Beca’s shift towards her mouth and licks her lips. Leaning in, she gives in to a more passionate kiss. Her lips fall against Beca’s, this time more needy than before. Sighing into the kiss, she tilts her head deepening the kiss, her fingers threading through Beca’s hair.

The brunette responds in kind, her hands moving to slide its way down to Chloe’s waist. The redhead had changed into a tank top and pyjama pants earlier as they got ready for bed, and she curses but also praises herself, as she feels Beca run her hands along the waistband of the tank.

Pulling back, her lips rest against Beca’s, her breathing heavy.

“Please.”

And it only takes that one word for Beca to start raising the top up along Chloe’s abdomen.

|-|-|

A/N: And that’s part 3 folllkkksss! I hope you enjoyed it… Fair warning we have a bit of a spicy chapter coming next ;)

Apologies for any mistakes! And once again thank you to those who have liked and commented, it means the world to me. Until next time!

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3

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