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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years ago

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Whatever Words Exist

StudentTeacher!Cal x Reader (Gender Neutral). Like mostly fluff.

Reader and Calum have only met briefly. But when the connection is this magnetic, you don’t press fate.

Masterlist (semi-hiatus)

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Calum readjusts the strap on his backpack, getting the bag hitched back right on his shoulder. Just up the hill he can see a gathering of people, a general human mass but still too far away for him to make out any one person in particular. He knows he’s in the right place for sure. So he continues on and a few folks wave as he approaches. Derrick, former officemate, spots Calum first and waves him closer.

“Meet Calum--old officemate of mine,” Derrick tells the group surrounding him. First years, Calum assumes and gives them a tiny smile and wave to the group.

“Yeah, because this jerk decided to apply for a full time instructor position. And then got upgraded,” Calum laughs.

“Look, gotta pay the bills how I can,” Derrick returns and then goes around the semi circle introducing everyone.

Calum looks at each one in return and then his gaze lands on yours. As a first year to the program and student teaching, you ran into Calum during the intense two week training. Well, you two didn’t really run into each other. Calum ran a few sessions during the training and you might have purposefully lingered behind on the free range Q&A that he was a part of with a few other experienced student teachers. He seemed to be calm and level headed about all the teaching and you were quite the opposite, so listening to him answer questions gave you a small amount of peace.

The second reason you lingered until everyone else was gone and asked their questions is because you thought he was attractive. The baggy t-shirt but nice fitting jeans and the way he titled in when he was listening to someone. He seemed to really care and take his time to answer any questions--even when he had other things he needed to attend to as well. “Hey,” he says as his smile brightens around your name.

“Hi Calum,” you return. “Slumming it with us first years.”

“I would never call it slumming, not in the slightest,” he laughs in return. The conversation steers away from that, talking about the summer and general shared interests. But every so often you and Calum lock eyes, gazes lingering for way longer than you’d like to admit. Mostly because you don’t want to be this into someone so early into the semester. And truth be told, the semester hadn’t even truly started.

About ten minutes pass before professors start to approach, a couple of them holding boxes of pizza. And while you definitely weren’t sure how to juggle all the responsibilities of teaching, classes, paying rent on time, you were grateful for the lunch of pizza. It also meant that you’d be taking some home if enough people didn’t go in for seconds. And getting a free meal plus an easy dinner was always worth it.

As the pizzas are lined up, you linger back, not wanting to be the first person to get food, but close enough to the first brave souls. “So, have you done any exploring around town?” Calum asks from behind you.

You spin to half face him to talk to him. “Not a lot. By the time we get done with training I’m too tired to do anything else. But I need to get my bike looked at, so I probably should get downtown at the very least.”

“What’s up with your bike? You said it was your main mode of transportation.”

“Just double checking tire pressure--nothing major. One of them feels like it’s not as high as the other. But rather be safe than sorry since the semester starts.”

Calum nods and shuffles up as the line moves. “If you need a ride to the shop, I have my car.”

You’re not sure if Calum’s offering just to be nice or if it means more. So you default to telling him he doesn’t have to, but he insists. And even as you’re grabbing a slice of pizza and Calum’s right behind you, you try to tell him that he shouldn’t completely disturb his whole day just for you.

“I cannot have you blowing a tire on the side of the road. Do you have your bike with you today? We could go after this.”

If there were any way to die right in this moment, you’re wishing for it. “I do,” you answer cautiously, walking towards the metal picnic tables. “But really, I can do by myself. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, c’mon, this town’s not necessarily the nicest to cyclists and if you got stranded I’d feel like an ass.” Calum settles across from you on the bench, slipping his backpack off his shoulder. You do the same, setting your backpack next you and pulling your water bottle from the side pocket.

“I don’t know what your plans are. I don’t want to intrude,” you counter, unscrewing the top to your water bottle to take a sip.

“My plans were to sit in my office and pretend like I was lesson planning.”

“Where’s your office again?”

Calum rattles off the name of the building, before taking his first bite of pizza. And you swear for a moment the universe is fucking with you. It has it out for you. “I’m in the same building,” you state.

“I’m in room 138.”

Oh, how cruel is the universe. How fucking cruel could it be. “Same,” you state after finishing your bite of pizza. “Haven’t been inside to see it yet though.”

“Oh, it sounds like I’m your personal tour guide today.” And it’s not that he’s being adamant about it. Because you know if you were in the reverse positions, you’d do something similar. But a glint crosses his eyes, his smile is a slight curl of his lips and he’s looking up at you from underneath his lashes.

Your stomach flutters, and suddenly pizza looks and feels like lead, but you take another bite to do something other than let panic settle. A quiet settles between the two of you as you eat. Though more people are turning up and settling in around you to make up for the silence. A few more minutes pass, even with you tossing away your plate and saying hi to some other people who are also teaching for the first time this year before you hear the professors calling for the group’s attention.

As the group quiets down, you return back to the spot where your bag is and Calum’s still there, laughing at something Derrick is saying. You catch his gaze and you really only think that you should look away. But you do. He’s too fucking handsome not to keep your gaze lingering for a moment longer. The humorous smile changes, becomes more subtle as the two of you continue to gaze at each other.

You can feel your cheeks getting hot but slowly feel your own smile over taking your face before you cast your gaze down and then flick it back up to who’s speaking. It’s good information to get, as you listen to each professor in turn talk about the program more. You get a good sense of who each person is, and it’s not too much longer before each of the new and old cohort introduces themself.

It’s a natural break as everyone starts to talk again with the business now out of the way. You mingle with some of the instructors but gravitate towards the snacks that are available. Just as you get a good grasp on one of the oreos, your name is called out. You spin, making sure to keep the Oreos in a tight hold. Calum waves you over to the group he’s in and you walk over. You know you shouldn’t. You know you’re playing with fire. But you do so anyway and he introduces you to some other people in the same year as him. They weren’t at the student teacher training.

You’re thankful for the introduction but slowly the conversation drifts to the group joking about something that you seem to be missing and you know almost without thinking that Calum’s going to seize this opportunity. You turn to him first. “I like the vibe of this program,” you start.

He smiles. “I’m glad. It’s all pretty tight knit.” You nod, agreeing with this point, but also not sure if you’re reading the air between you and him correctly either. “Do you wanna duck out now?” he asks quietly. “Get that bike fixed up for the first day of classes.”

“Ye-yeah, that’s cool.”

He nods over to where your belongings are with a smile. And the two of you gather your things. As you lead Calum over to where you locked up your bike you pause. “Wait,” you start, “do you even have a place to strap a bike down?”

“My friends and I bike the trails a lot during the year. My SUV can handle it, I promise,” he returns with a laugh. The two of you walk side by side down the parking lot. “Where do you call home?” he asks.

You rattle off the answer and in return ask him the same. “Well home home is Australia. But I came to the states with some mates and we’ve sort of always called California a second home.”

“You beat me the longest distance from home,” you laugh.

“Well, only on a technicality.”

“So like your mom, dad, and siblings--if you have any--are like clear across the world?”

“Mum and Dad are. Sister’s in London.”

“Is she studying too?”

“Singer--she’s over there doing that.”

You hum. “Is singing a family trait?”

Calum laughs and you watch some lights blink from a car and you spy the keys in his hand. “I wouldn’t call it a family trait. But yeah, we all sing. In our own ways. Originally made some moves for music. Career paths changed just a tiny bit.”

“So you and the friends you moved with were in a band?”

“Of sorts. Went well for a while. Then we just needed rest.”

“So your idea of rest is going to school and teaching?” You laugh. Calum opens the trunk first for your bags. And when he closes it, you finally spot the rack to set your bike on.

“Like I said, career paths took a turn. Rest or new experience--I’ve yet to decide on the name yet.”

With the bike settled and secure, you walk around to the passenger side door. Calum’s quick to turn the air on in the car once he’s inside. His radio starts up immediately and he scrambles to turn it down. “Sorry, don’t wanna blast you out of the car,” he states.

“No, no worries.”

“Any requests? You can plug your phone in too, if you want.”

“Oh God, I take over the aux and you’re going to get some anime theme song and I’d rather save myself the embarrassment.”

Calum’s chuckle is quick and clear of the click of the seatbelts. He switches over the radio and hands you the white cord. “Now you have to embarrass yourself.”

“That’s what I get for opening my big mouth.” Plugging the cord in, you shuffle for a decent opening song as the truck starts backwards out of the parking spot.

“So what about you? How did the universe drop you here?”

“Pure determination and spite,” you laugh as the song starts over the speakers. “I finished my undergrad, worked for a couple years and then promptly said this is not what I want to do forever and started looking to go back to school.”

“Pure determination and spite,” Calum repeats. He keeps his attention heavily on the road as he’s driving out of the park and through the neighborhoods. But once he hits a stretch of main road he can glance over to you. And you’re staring out of the front windshield, head slightly tilted. “You look lost in thought?”

“Just admiring the view.”

And Calum hums, a sound of agreement, but the view he’s enjoying isn’t the sight of campus and the surrounding area. The two of you continue on, weaving around some traffic and soon you’re turning down a side street. One that reminds you almost of home. And maybe that’s just the universality of it all. Almost anything could be home if you wanted it to be, because there was always going to be a piece of a place that you could connect too.

“The guys here are nice and really quick about anything that’s a simple fix,” Calum offers. “Also, your music isn’t that bad.”

Your jaw drops just a little and a small squawk of indignation falls from your lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, jumping out of the car. Calum’s already at the back, pulling your bike from the secure rack.

“It means that having an anime theme song play would’ve made it ten times better.”

You huff, but follow behind him into the shop. The two of you greeted almost immediately and when the guy working on the floor spies the bike, he’s quick to walk over and see what the issue is. You explain that you’ve noticed a difference in tire pressure. In your move your gauge got misplaced and you hadn’t quite yet had time to get someone to look at it until now.

“Yeah, we can check that for you. No problem. So any other plans for today?” he asks, making small talk. You talk briefly about the weather, though there’s not quite a lot to talk about it. Not too long later, the guy’s able to confirm that one of tires did have something puncturing it and letting out some air. But he’s quick to let you know that they can fix it in just a few minutes if the two of you have it.

“I’d greatly appreciate it,” you start and then look at Calum, who just shrugs. “Yeah, can you fix it?”

“Sure can. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

You watch Calum browse, trying not to linger on the way his back moves underneath the t-shirt as he reaches up for something along the walls. And it’s like asking to get into trouble. Though there’s nothing wrong with instructors dating. You just had a plan, that's all.The first semester you’d get settled, figure out what this whole student teaching life was all about. And the more you watched Calum, the more you were sure that plan was going to fall apart.

“Here she is, all fixed up.” You look up from your spot, in the store, having migrated to the opposite end of the door and walk over to the man with your bike. “Just a little puncture. Nothing too bad.” He rattles off the costs and it’s more than you anticipated, but not so much more that you have complaints.

Calum’s quick to take over the bike and walk it back outside, smiling as you hold the door open for him. “Thanks.”

“No, thanks to you. For chauffeuring me around.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he returns, getting the bike back onto the rack. “Did you want to explore some nearby shops?”

“Oh, hmm. Maybe later. I haven’t an ounce of lesson plans just yet. So I think I should maybe get my week 2 planned.”

“Well it sounds like you have something of week one planned,” Calum counters.

“We were forced. Thanks to orientation.”

He laughs. “Yeah, they wanted you to have that down at least.”

In the brief glance around, as you try to tell yourself, you shouldn’t explore, you spy a little coffee shop. It looks intriguing. And you point out the sign. “Have you ever tried them?”

“Yeah--it’s a really good shop.”

You take a small step towards the building, careful though because you’re still in the parking lot and about to head into the street. “Can I tack on just a tiny bit of exploring and grab a cup?”

“Of course.”

“Recommend anything?”

Calum holds the door open as he speaks. “Chai Latte, but you can’t tell anyone that it was me that recommended it.”

“Your secret it safe with me.”

In line, you try not to think about how close Calum is, as he stands behind you. But you can feel him, or maybe you want to feel it, you’re aware of him that it’s like all you’d have to do is fake a clumsy step back to be resting into his chest. You imagine it to be firm, but somehow cozy. And maybe that’s just the worn t-shirt he’s adorned in and the beanie on his head. But his presence feels soft to you.

Your daydream doesn’t last long as the line shuffles forward and you take the step forward rather than the step backward. The coffee shop is quaint, the wide windows letting in plenty of sunlight. But the tables are dark brown and look worn from your place in line. It feels lived in and you enjoy that even though the outside was painted a hunter green, the inside is a pretty beige accented by the chocolate wood of the tables.

“It’s like a dream,” you state in a whisper, taking in the lights in the ceiling and the scattered bodies of students with backpacks at their feet and others whom you assume live in town and are most likely trying to enjoy the last bits of quiet before the rest of the students descend onto the campus and town.

In all your sight exploration, your order is called up and Calum has to get it for you. He smiles though, watching the wonder that fills your eyes. “The offer’s still on the table,” he states, handing over the correct cup t you. “We can explore.”

“Can we raincheck? What does next weekend look like for you?”

He still hadn’t responded to Ashton about the hike. So he doesn’t really have plans. “Free as a bird.”

“Would it be okay? To wait till then?”

“Of course,” he exhales. “I’m not the one still learning with training wheels of teaching. I can do this in my sleep.”

“Oh, so big and tough,” you joke, but head back to the front door. The two of you break back out into the bright sun and it’s warm on your skin. “Just give me a semester. I’ll be able to knock you down a peg.”

And Calum doesn’t doubt that for a second. Not with the way you talked about getting into the program. Inside the truck, you’re handed the aux yet again and this time don’t think twice about plugging it in. “To our office?” he asks.

“You’re not even going to be doing anything for real.”

“I like the sense of productivity.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you laugh. The drive back to the campus isn’t as long as you thought it would be. But somehow it comes all too quickly. You’re still not sure what’s happening between you and Calum. It’s easy, natural between the two of you. But your plan--you know it’s all going down the drain. All his jokes make you laugh, and you know one or two shouldn’t. And when you do laugh, Calum turns sheepish. He goes quiet, a tiny smile quivering at his lips.

Calum parks in the employee parking lot in front of the building with your office. Both of you climb out at the same time. And with backpacks, coffee, keys and phones all in place you two trek up to the door. “I think it’s only three of us in the office this year,” Calum talks, fishing out the right key on the hook.

“Only three?”

“This used to be an old dorm building. So they can usually stick four of us into the room. But the email we got about office assignments only had three names. There was a fourth, but I don’t know what happened to them. They were in a different English program than us. And I don’t know if they graduated or not.”

“Ah,” you return, stepping through the door behind him. And it doesn’t remind you too much of a dorm, not in the always at least. But when Calum unlocks the door, you can see where it definitely once was an older dorm building thanks to the sink in the corner. “You weren’t kidding, huh?’

“About it being an old dorm? Not in the slightest.” He drops his backpack into the desk on the left side of the room but closest to the window. A couple pictures decorate the desktop. The desk next to him as a blanket and the whiteboard above it, has something written on it. So you assume it’s the third person. The desk on the right, closest to the door has nothing on it. The one closest to the window, across from Calum is also empty.

You walk into the room some more and Calum pulls out his laptop from his bag and then steps around you. “As a heads up, the door stays locked. So you’ll need your key if you go out and close the door. I got locked out once or maybe twice. And it’s definitely not fun.”

You nod. “Thanks for the heads up.”

He smiles and then slips out of the door and you study the empty desk. It’s stupid, trivial to take the one across from Calum, but you drop your backpack into the office chair. The next time you come, you’ll bring desk decorations. To claim which one is yours. Because right now in the depths of your backpack you don’t have much. Well you do have a book that you don’t really need to keep up with too much. Maybe you can leave that.

Exhaling, you get mostly settled and just before you can get your laptop out of the sleeve the door opens to Calum walking through again. The beanie’s now in his hands as he strides across the room and you can’t help but stare at the curls falling from his head. You want to curse him for looking so good. But you force yourself to go back to your screen.

Calum settles back into his chair and watches you, sitting up straighter than he’s ever seen a person sit. And he wishes he wasn’t so chicken shit about it. You fucking asked him to hang out next weekend. But still, it’s like toying the line. Trying to make sure he’s reading the cues right. Maybe not right now, maybe next weekend he can get a better read, make a move. He turns back to his own laptop and finds the syllabus he made from the last semester. He can still use most of it. Though in the spring they had a break and in the fall, now they don’t. So he can delete that week as no class and actually have time for the group project in class that the department requires for them to teach.

A couple hours go by, silence between the two of you, but the clacking of keys makes a chorus around the room. Calum pauses every so often to look over his shoulder. Sometimes you’re deep into work, pushed up into the seat. And once or twice, he found you slouched, staring out at the window next to both of you.

Another hour passes and shuffling ensues behind Calum. He looks over and finds you packing up. “Headed home?”

You nod. “Managed to get the first unit mostly planned. We’ll see how it goes.”

He smiles. “I’m sure it’ll go well.” He goes to turn around and then remembers your bike is still attached to the back of his car. “Oh, let me go with you to get your bike,” he says ,shooting up from his chair. It rolls backwards for a split second but then makes a sudden stop.

“Oof,” you let out, rubbing at your stomach.

“Oh my god,” he rushes out, stepping in closer. “I’m so sorry. Had no clue you were that close. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you laugh and then look up. And Calum’s eyes are a deeper brown that you initially thought. Now that he's closer to you. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you exhale in a breath.

“You sure? I think the Campus Health Services is open. Or you know, urgent care?”

“I don’t think you caused internal bleeding. Just caught me off guard.”

He finally brings his gaze up from where you’ve stopped holding your stomach to your eyes. And he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let his gaze drop below your eyes, because truth be told he already stared too much at your lips during the entirety of orientation. And he already knows just how plump they are.

It’s silent--almost uncomfortably so. “Can I--I should get your bike,” Calum says, saving himself from sure embarrassment.

He steps around you and you stretch out, capturing his wrist in your hand. “No, what were you going to ask?” you ask. The question leaves you without much thought and you know you shouldn’t ask. But you just can’t help it. Because you almost stretched up to kiss him.

“It’s nothing,” he returns. But he doesn’t pull his wrist away.

“Is it really nothing?”

Calum feels you step in closer. He inhales and lets it slowly. He shouldn’t. He absolutely should not let the question cross his lips. But he turn, and sees you illuminated by the sun from the windows and god, how can he deny an angel standing in front of him. “I was going to ask if I could ask you a question.” And it’s not really what he was going to ask. But it buys him some time.

“You can ask me.”

“Do you--is this--,” he exhales, for a moment hating that the words are getting caught in his throat. “I don’t know if you’re feeling the same thing I am. But I-I’ve been interested in you, like from the second I saw you at the orientation. And I really, really don’t want to make a fool of myself. But I was hoping, are you interested? In me?”

There it goes--the plan--down the drain in just a few sentences. “If you’re asking if I thought you were attractive, yes. And if you’re asking if I care to see where this goes, the answer is also yes. But it really wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”

The elation covers his face and makes his cheeks push up as he smiles--so much so that the skin around his eyes crinkles. “I’ll gladly interrupt all your plans.”

You scoff at the sentiment, but feel your body heating up. Calum steps in even closer to you. His fingers find yours and thread them together. “So the real question I had was if I could kiss you? But I wasn’t sure if that was too forward.”

“Too forward a minute ago. But not too forward for right now,” you state, already moving in to kiss him. It’s short, longer than a peck, but not quite long enough. Because as you pull away, Calum’s other hand is cupping the back of your head and keeping you closer. His hold is firm but his lips are soft and you melt, knees buckling just for a moment. Thankfully, you manage to recover quickly. It doesn’t stop Calum from chuckling.

“Are you telling me that I have that kind of effect on you?”

“Shut the fuck up, and kiss me again,” you state breathlessly. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. His lips capture yours again, happy to finally get a small taste of you. And you’re acutely aware that it must look ridiculous--you with your backpack full to the nines pressed up against Calum’s chest, chasing down his lips because his touch is mixing in with the scent of his cologne and all you know for sure is that it’s an intoxicating mixture that you want to be trapped in forever.

You pull away, needing just a moment to catch your breath and Calum rests his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to leave me now?” he teases.

“I--I’ll be honest. The reason why I was leaving was because I knew this was going to happen.”

“Oh? You knew?”

You laugh, cupping his jaw. “Calum, I know one thing for sure. You’re a dangerous man to be around.”

“Oh you’ve just met me. I should be offended.”

“Should be?” you question.

“You’re--I don’t know what. But I knew that I wanted to know you. So whatever words that exist for that--that’s what you are.”

“I’m flattered,” you state softly.

“If you give me 5, I can pack up my stuff and drop you off back at home. Now I’d be an asshole not to drop you off.”

You watch him, pulling back from the closeness. “I can make it home now that my bike’s fixed. Thanks to your insistence.”

“Well, let me insist one more time that I make sure you get home safely.”

“Fine,” you resign. And he’s quick to pack up. Out in the hallway, he takes your hand, threading your fingers again. And it’s natural, easy between the two of you. You bump shoulders, laughing as you step out in the daylight.

Inside his car, you slip back into the passenger seat. But when Calum settles into the driver seat and gets buckled in, he rests one hand on your thigh. Not too high up, nothing too suggestive, but not directly on your knee. You try not to let it fluster you, the ease at which he establishes touch, but your heart races just a little.

You curl your fingers around his palm--it’s something to do with your hands, but also allows you a bit of control. You direct him easily back to your apartment. It’s nearly a straight shot, minus the one left turn needed and when he pulls up into a parking space in front of your building, he squeezes at your fingers just a little.

You face him with a smile. “Thanks, for everything.”

“Yeah of course,” he returns. “So, next weekend? More exploring?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll text you about the date and time for sure. Unless we meet again in the office.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you laugh gently stretching across the console. “I have a suspicion we shall meet again in the office.”

“Lovely,” he breathes and you meet his lips, capturing them gently before pulling away and grabbing all your things. Your bike is easy to get down and then you lock it back up on the rack outside, even though Calum does help. He leans up against the door and you spy him watching.

“Enjoying the show?” you tease shaking your butt at him at the outside door of the building.

His laughter rings out. “Making sure you get inside safely, actually. But a show is always welcomed.”

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thenovelartist · 4 years ago

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Burned Beginnings, chapter 1

Novel decided to do Adrienette April on a whim. Each post until the end of April (or such is the plan) will have 3 prompts in it.

She also discovered she’s very rusty. Bear with me here. XD

Next>>

1. AU

Marinette had thought she’d grown used to Chloe’s bullying, having to had endure it since they were little. However, with high school came a new name that became a regular part of Chloe’s vocabulary, alongside “hot” and “sexy” and “dreamboat”.

“And Marinette would never catch the eye of someone so perfect.”

Honestly, Marinette had thought she was over it, but on a particularly bad day, she’d snapped back at Chloe.

“Well, clearly he isn’t that perfect if he fawns over someone whose only redeeming quality is pretending to be pretty.”

That had led to a fire alarm getting pulled and Marinette left to blame for it. Anyone who tried to come to her defense was shut down, and Marinette had been suspended.

Which had started an all-out war.

After being stuck at home, wrongfully, for three solid days, Marinette had snapped. She’d decided that if Chloe was going to build a bonfire and poor on the gasoline that she would be there with a match. By senior year, Marinette’s record had taken a hit for it but Chloe’s reputation was in the toilet.

Marinette would take what she could get.

However, she supposed she hadn’t fully thought out the consequences. As much as she played with fire, she should have realized she’d get burned sooner or later.

And she did. Third degree.

We regret to inform you your application has been denied.

Those were words she grew tired of seeing yet came back from every school she applied to. With that in mind, she’d called up her girl friends to tell them what had happened.

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya had said upon seeing the letters. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for you. But… I did warn you—”

“I get it,” Marinette had surrendered, knowing that Alya was completely right. “You tried to warm me of the consequences, and now I’m paying for them.”

The girls had slipped into a moment of silence before Alix spoke up. “Hey, I can ask Max if he can do a little digging so you at least know why, yeah?”

Marinette had raised a brow but agreed. “Only if he’s not busy with his own college stuff.”

“Oh please, he’s too smart for college. He started up some robotics company in his free time and is already making bank on it.”

It took a week for Max to come back with a full report. Marinette had to give him props for working fast as he did.

“Hacking into the system was the first thing I could think of,” he’d explained. “In the side notes, there was mention of your attendance record and suspensions.”

“They were all wrongful suspensions,” Alix had countered.

“Doesn’t matter to the school,” Max had said with a shrug. “But even then, I thought there had to be more to this than just attendance. There were other students who had the same notes yet were accepted. So I shifted focus to digging up background on all the directors of the school. After hacking a few emails, I discovered Audrey Bourgeois happens to know a lot of directors or administration members in all the fashion schools of France. Considering the contents of most of those emails, it has become clear that Marinette was wrongfully barred from every school she’d applied to. And that there’s nothing that can be done about it because we only discovered such scandal through highly illegal means.”

“So…” Alya had begun, turning her attention to Marinette. “Where does that leave you, M?”

Marinette’s lips had pursed in thought. It was funny how things turned out, because despite her anger, she somehow had been peace with what she was faced with. “I think that the last place I want to be is in an industry full of liars and people who use their words to manipulate anyone they damn well please.”

That was how she ended up working full-time in her parents’ bakery. They never said a word about it, but she knew they were disappointed. Of course they weren’t mad about her still being here and working in the bakery with them, and she knew her parents still loved her more than anything.

But she knew that with as many dreams as she had and had shared with them, they were disappointed on her surrendering it all.

“Sorry, Maman, Papa,” she whispered into the empty kitchen as she plopped the baguettes she formed onto a baking tray. “Just give me a little time to figure things out. Seems like lofty dreams are a lot easier to crush than I realized.”

2. Rebellion

A son can only bear the world of their parent’s expectations for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, but after a few years of acting like him, Adrien decided to dump the globe. To hell if it broke. He’d smirk in satisfaction at his father’s disappointment.

At the very least, the fact he no longer had the weight of the world of his shoulders made the far-too-common disappointment lecture easier to bear.

His strategic rebellion had started harmless enough. At sixteen with a rapidly growing forced modeling career, he’d given his father an ultimatum: he gets to grow out his hair, or it all goes. It had been shocking the amount of power the razor in his hand had given him. It was the perfect harmless threat. His father had been furious, throwing a fit about Adrien acting like a child, but after being gaslit for so long, Adrien had finally come to realize the abusive techniques for what they were. And he wasn’t going to roll over and take it any longer.

That day had ended with Adrien being grounded but ultimately the victor of their stand-off.

After that, he’d begun ditching certain events. He’d always liked fencing, so he never ditched those lessons, but attendance for his home-school lessons, mandarin lessons, and piano lessons had all been decided on a whim. His father had hardly been pleased by this, but to Adrien, that was the point. The lectures soon washed into one another so much that Adrien could practically recite the words that roll off his father’s tongue verbatim. He’d come to realize they were strategically meant to hurt. To humiliate. And as such, he’d stopped taking them personally.

Then came the fun part.

He got earrings. Honestly, Adrien hadn’t really cared for the piercings one way or another. In one way, there were a hassle, and caring for new piercings was a pain in the butt. However, they had been worth it to see his dad so royally pissed off.

Then came the ditching of certain photoshoots. There was a reason Adrien had held off on this one for so long: he cared about the people running the shoot. There was no reason they needed to be collateral in this battle between him and his father. After all, they were just employees doing their job; Adrien didn’t want them to suffer for his rebellion. With that in mind, Adrien had planned out his absences of these photoshoots. Again, he didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, so he had always organized a replacement model. Shoot would always go on, just not as planned.

And that was enough to drive his father mad.

It always put a smile on Adrien’s face.

The last touch was an unexpected one. He hadn’t even thought about going this far. Yet, a friend of his not only put the idea in his head, but gave him the art to go with it.

“Is that a tattoo?”

Oh, how he wished he would have taken a picture of his father’s face. The large black cat surrounded in a green, wispy smoke that wrapped around his forearm was truly a work of art. He’d had to think carefully about this decision, but in the end, he quite liked it.

“Yeah. I’m eighteen; I can ink myself if I want to. Why? Is that a problem?”

Adrien might be wearing a cat on his arm, but the grin on his lips was downright wolfish.

Eventually, it all had come to a head and blew up in his face. Adrien couldn’t say he’d been surprised. In fact, he had been fully expecting it. He’d already found an apartment to rent and had begun sneaking most of his important things over there before his father could kick him out. So when Adrien found himself kicked to the curb as soon as he was handed his general education certificate, Adrien had been prepared.

But mostly, he was free.

What a joyous day it was.

However, now that he was free, he knew he needed a job. Not because he needed the money, per se, but because it was time he started acting like the average adult. He never got to go to school, so now, it was time to pick up a mundane, first job that everyone hated but would “serve him well later in life”. Mostly, it would just be something normal.

The easy places to apply were food shops and retail stores. He’d work one for a while before deciding what his next life step would be. Chloe had been quick to offer him a job at her father’s hotel, but Adrien was vehemently against the idea. Over the span of his rebellion, Chloe’s behavior and attitude towards him had grown notably worse, and he had a feeling cutting ties with her would be his next step in life.

In the end, he’d scored a job he definitely was underqualified for. He’d applied partly out of spite and partly because ‘why not?’ He’d heard about this bakery enough times from Chloe to know the “cruel bitch who did nothing but mercilessly harass her” lived here, and that was enough to pique Adrien’s curiosity. At a bakery as popular as that, though, he hadn’t been sure he’d get a call. And when he did, he knew he would do everything he could to present himself as a reliable and respectable man eager to work, but he never thought he’d end up hitting it off with the owner.

Which somehow ended up with him agreeing to work at Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.

Going into that job, he swore to himself he would do what he could to prove himself worthy. He knew there had to have been better applicants, so Adrien didn’t want to disappoint the very kind owners who dared give him a chance. Soon, his days were spent working hard while covered in flour and surrounded by bread all day. Well, bread and all the sharp and hot objects in your average kitchen.

He just didn’t think that would include a wicked sharp and smoking hot young lady that happened to be his bosses’ daughter.

3. Game Night

“Mama, Papa, please go. You two hardly ever get out of the house.”

Marinette watched her maman put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone while her papa turned to her. “But I’ll be busy that night. We have a massive order scheduled for the next day.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette quickly countered with a grin. “You know I’m a night owl, anyway. I’ll get it done, and you two can go enjoy game night with your friends.”

Her parents spared each other a glance. “Are you sure about that, Marinette?” Maman asked.

“Positive. Papa already talks to the bread too much, so he really should talk to people for a change. And while you have to deal with people all day, I know you want more than to just have short conversations filled with small talk. So please, go out and have a social life for once.”

With one last look, her parents relented. With a smile, her mother took her hand off the phone. “We’ll be there.”

Papa turned to her with a grin. “I was going to spend that time teaching Adrien how to handle those orders. I can leave teaching him in your hands, right?”

Her grin fell. Adrien Agreste. What the hell a washed-out model was doing working at her parents’ bakery was beyond her. Admittedly, over the last month she’d been working with him, the most she’d say is that maybe he wasn’t too bad a guy. Papa certainly sung his praises. But that still didn’t answer the question of why he was working here of all places. After all, he was Chloe’s friend and suspected lover.

“Don’t think I don’t see that look on your face, Marinette,” her maman chastised. She’d hung up and set her phone down already, fully giving her attention to her daughter. “No matter your personal feelings, you really should give him a chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Papa said. “Maybe a little rough around the edges, but I can tell he really does want to learn and do his best.”

Marinette sighed. This wasn’t the first time this talk had happened. She remembered having a talk with her parents after his first interview. There were a few other people who were far more qualified for the job, but Papa said he liked Adrien’s personality and spirit the best. So in the end, all Marinette’s objections had fallen upon deaf ears.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance.”

With a smile that made Marinette loath to disappoint him, her papa patted her head affectionately. “Thank you, Marinette. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

Not likely. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“Really, Marinette,” her maman warned. “Unless you have a valid reason, you need to put aside your feelings for the sake of the bakery running smoothly. Can you manage that?”

Appropriately chastised, Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment. Maman brought up a good point: Marinette shouldn’t let her anger towards Adrien affect the bakery. Her parents didn’t deserve that. “Yes, Maman. I’m sorry.”

With a smile, her maman came up and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette hugged her back. “No, thank you, Maman and Papa, for everything. I won’t let you down.”

Papa wrapped his arms around both her and Maman. “Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #AU #Marinette's kinda bitter #And Adrien's a rebel #If they're OOC I don't care #I'm writing again and just rolling with it

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bigkidthings · 3 years ago

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Goals for 2022

So here's a little bit of a backstory: I'm a third-year student in University, and during all of 2021 I was going through the process of planning and working towards a semester abroad in Austria. The plan was to go from February to July 2022, and I had everything all set up and ready to go.

Well, as you can probably guess, at the beginning of December 2021, a certain deadly virus started ramping up again, and my trip was cancelled. I was sad and disappointed and upset, but I decided that if I couldn't go abroad for 6 months, I was going to do some serious work on my life and my current situation. I've been lucky to live with my parents throughout University and not have to worry about living expenses, but at this point, I'm really craving my own space and more independence.

So I created some goals for 2022. I do realize that to accomplish all of them would be pretty ambitious and require a lot of work and stress, but I think it will be worth it once I've succeeded. These are my goals:

Move out. This is the big one. It also hinges on a lot of other things, like being able to get a job that pays more that what my current one does, and being able to get rid of a lot of the clutter I currently have. I would love to be able to move into a place over the summer so that I can complete my final year of University in my own apartment, but I mostly want to be out by the end of the year.

Buy a car. Again, pretty big. I don't need a brand new car with all of the features and add-ons, but something that's gonna get me from point A to B without giving out on me every few months is a must. This also includes finding and paying for my own insurance.

Get a job in my industry. If I can find a job that pays $20/hr that I can do 40hrs/week, I'll easily be able to save up and afford moving out + rent. This is the goal that all of my other goals rely on, so it's a big priority.

Like I said, accomplishing all of these in one year is ambitious. I'm mostly worried about finding the job. My last attempt at finding a job in my field was stressful and only worked out at the very last minute, but it was just a summer job. Since then, I've been working part-time in retail, but between school and extracurriculars, it's just not enough to live on.

I've already applied for one job that's remote and pays $20/hr, so now I'm just waiting to hear back. The problem is, most full-time jobs want a bachelor's degree and 3+ years of experience. I'm hoping that I can be an exception. My logic is that if I can find a job that can be done remotely, I'll be able to do it while I'm in school, which will be equal to 'full time' hours.

At this point, it's just a waiting game to A) hear back from the company I applied to and B) find more jobs that meet all my criteria. The sooner I can get hired and start making real money, the more I'll be able to save up. Wish me luck!

See you in the next one,

Alison

#goals #new years resolutions #progress #adulthood #life tips #life advice #young adult #mine

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hoboal87 · 5 years ago

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Elastic Heart Chapter One

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, OFCs

Pairing(s): None

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N sees a familiar set of eyes in the crowd, and remembers the first time she saw them and how they changed her life.

Word Count: 4300+

Warnings: Show level violence, cursing, pre-Stanford era Winchesters

Notes: Series will be mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. Also, for purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

Please give a comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Chapter One - Senior Year

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N”

I don’t hear my name being called, I’m in my own world, looking out into the crowd for a set of familiar eyes. I spot them three rows back and smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and I miss the days where I would see those eyes nearly every day.

Life as a nursing student consists of going to class, lab work, interning at a hospital, and occasionally sleeping. I’ve spent the past two years doing nothing but that. I’ve always been one to do things early, but this was the one thing that, for once, I was on par with my peers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. From the first time I saw those eyes, they altered my life, sending me down a path that I never planned to be on. Taking longer than we had thought, but eventually, I got back on track.

Finish school and get my fresh start. That had been my goal for the past two years. Move on, with or without those eyes in my life. I wanted them, but I knew that logically, it couldn’t happen. Our lives were too different, especially now. I lost my chance of having them with me always; now, I could only cherish the holidays and long weekends that allowed us to be together.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” the announcer’s voice contains a bit of urgency this time, drawing my attention. I step across the stage, shaking my supervisor’s hand, and receive my metaphorical diploma. I look back out into the audience and connect with those eyes again, wide and filled with joy. I take my seat and think back to the first time I saw them and how they changed my life forever.

Fall, 2002

This was it, the first day of my senior year. This is the year I will prove to everyone that I am no longer a kid. This is the year, mom and dad will see that I can act like an adult and make ‘good choices’ but, I’m determined to have just a little fun.

For the last two years, mom and dad have insisted that I take extra courses and go to summer school to ensure I graduate not only with good grades but early. I’ll graduate in the spring and be off to college in the fall. All I really want is to wait, take a year or two, experience life outside of my parents’ house.

I make the point to do as many high school activities as I can. Activities that they discouraged me from doing for the last two years; choir, volleyball, anything that will get me out of the house but still considered a school activity. I joined the decorating committee, wanting to participate in homecoming as much as possible. I know as long as I do nothing life-altering, I’m gonna be free in May.

“Be mindful of your grades, Y/N,” dad said, reading over all the consent forms, “if they slip, you will need to cut these extracurricular activities.”

“They won’t slip, dad.” I roll my eyes. “It’s my last year, let me have a bit of fun, please?”

“Your average drops below an A, and I’m pulling you out of each one of these clubs, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I mull over telling him the other part of my plan. “I was… thinking about getting a job.” I look down, not wanting to make eye contact. “Something part-time?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Y/N,” mom enters the room, “You’re going to be so busy already, tell her Rob.”

“Your mother has a point, and if they accept you to all these clubs, when will you even have time?”

“I may not even end up in the choir or the volleyball team,” I argue, “and if I don’t I’ll have a free period every day, I can talk to the counselor about making it my last class and—it’s my Senior Year, please, don’t you guys think I deserve a little more credit than this? I should get to experience a little bit of independence, don’t you think? I’m gonna be away at college in a year, I’m probably gonna have some on-campus job, I need to learn how to balance between the two.” I catch my breath, hoping that they will agree.

“Fine,” dad sighs heavily, “the same deal goes. Your grades slip, no more working. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around him, “Thank you!”

“Maybe you could get a job at the clinic,” mom chimes in, “get some experience in the field?”

“I don’t think anyone wants a sixteen-year-old working at the clinic, Sarah. Maybe at the drugstore, though?”

“Yeah,” I sit on the couch, “maybe.”

I discreetly start looking at apartments that could be for rent after graduation. I look on the outskirts of town and find a garage apartment that a very sweet older lady agrees to rent to me if it is still unoccupied over the summer. Finding a job gets put on the back burner as the school year moves into full swing. It turns out I can’t sing, and I suck at volleyball, but the coach offers me the position of manager, allowing me to still participate with the team at pep rallies and travel with them on away games. As the season comes to a close, and with Thanksgiving break around the corner, I decide it’s time to actively look for a job.

The trouble is finding someone willing to hire a 16-year-old high school student with no experience. I try some local retail stores, but I know that mom and dad will never go for the hours they want me to work. I walk into Joe’s Burgers, my favorite place to get some dinner and continue looking through the classifieds.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” I look over and wave to the man behind the counter.

“Hey, Dan, can I get a Bacon—"

“Your usual?” he cuts me off, smiling.

“Yes, please,” I look down sheepishly, handing him the exact amount of money without being told the total.

“Whatcha got there?” he nods towards the paper that’s now on the counter as he hands me my receipt.

“Oh, I’m just looking for a job,” I tuck the paper under my arms. “Need to earn some money so I can get outta this town after graduation.”

“What’s wrong with the town,” his face grows serious, “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Shit—I mean, n-nothing. Fuck."

“Y/N/N!” Dan bursts into laughter, “I’m just messing with you! You think you’re the first person who hates living here? We’re a small-ass town in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re such a jerk,” I say, relieved, “I’ll be in my spot, okay?” He tries to contain his laughter as I walk away, making my way to my usual table. I flip through the pages, seeing nothing that would really work for me.

“You know Joe has been talking about hiring another cashier,” Dan says, bringing my food over, “and you’re practically here all the time anyway, you may as well make some money while you’re at it. You want me to talk to him?”

“Really? Do you think he’d hire me? I can’t stay late on week-nights because of school, mom and dad would kill me.”

“Yeah, we need someone to work the register, Jana can’t do it all herself. Whaddya think?”

“Oh, my god Dan, that would be amazing!” I get up and throw my arms around him to give him a hug. I watch as Dan walks to the back of the restaurant, after a few minutes he returns, giving me the thumbs-up. Before I leave, he gives me paperwork to fill out and a uniform, telling me to return the next day for training.

For three days, I train, working with Jana on the register. She is a few years older than me, with absolutely no filter. She always has me hunched over, laughing at something she has said or done. The lunches are busier than usual with the break. On Friday, she decides it’s time to leave me on my own, ‘best way to learn,’ she quips.

I’ve never been a social butterfly, and the thought of having to deal with customers on my own genuinely terrifies me for a few moments. After giving myself a small pep talk, I turn around to see three large men waiting for me.

The shortest of the three looks at me, and leans over the counter, “I’m here, what are your other two wishes?” he asks, flashing me a wink.

“I’m sorry?” I can’t believe this guy is serious.

“My brother and I were wondering,” he gestures to the tallest of the three, “if it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“W-what?” I feel the heat pooling in my cheeks.

“Dean, knock it off, we’re here to work.” the older man behind him smacks him upside his head, and I have to stifle my laughter. He offers a sympathetic smile toward me.

“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?” I shot back; it was the only thing I could think of, albeit an awful comeback.

“It’s okay, just blink if you want me,” I stare straight into those green eyes for a solid 10 seconds before turning away.

“Dean, leave the girl alone, how old are you doll?” he asks, turning to me.

“Sixteen,” I say, watching as he rolls his eyes at the other two.

“See, are you trying to go to jail, son?” he says, looking at me apologetically “I’m sorry my sons are two walking hormones.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” the tall one huffs. Green-eyes shrugs and rubs the back of his head.

“Don’t even Sam, I heard you when we walked in.” Their dad grabs them by the shirts and drags them both to stand in front of me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, this man grabbing his two grown sons like they were pre-teens, “Now apologize to…” he looks at my name tag, “… Y/N.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to offend you,” Green-eyes says insincerely.

“That’s fine, it’s part of the job, learning to deal with frat boys who love to mess with townies,” I smile back curtly.

“What the fu—” green-eyes is clearly trying to contain his anger, but his dad chuckles at the remark, and his brother can hardly control himself.

“Yeah, frat boy, don’t mess with the townie,” the younger one laughs, pushing his shaggy brown hair away from his face, revealing gleaming hazel eyes flecked with hints of green and blue surrounded by dark full lashes.

“Listen, Y/N,” green-eyes looks at my name tag again, “we ain’t no frat boys, in fact, we’re here becau—”

“All right, Dean, that’s enough.” His dad gives him a stern look that is clearly a silent conversation. “Since we’re off to such a wonderful start, let’s start over, yeah?”

I nod politely. These guys are clearly passing through and will be gone in a matter of hours or days, but Joe wants us to make all people, even the ones we’ll probably never see again, feel welcome.

“I’m John, you already know Dean,” he reaches his hand out towards the tall one, “and this is Sam. We’re actually looking into the recent animal-related deaths,” he says, producing a Fish and Wildlife Badge. I study it for a moment before handing it back. “We’re interviewing some of the local business owners and residents in the area of the attacks. Have you heard or seen anything usual, smelled anything weird, anything that comes to mind?”

“Oh.” I look at the three men; here I was being a bitch to the people trying to help. “Um, I just started working here a few days ago, animal attacks?” I look back up to John, who nods. “The only animals around here are coyotes, but even they’re pretty rare. I haven’t heard anything, but I keep to myself. Joe might know something, he’s the owner and knows everything about everyone.” I offer a smile.

“Is Joe in today?” John asks. His grey eyes hold so much pain as he looks at me.

“Um… yeah. He may have a few minutes now that we’ve slowed down. I can see if he can come talk to you?”

“That’d be great, thanks, Y/N.”

“Please, Y/N/N,” I say, blushing, covering my nametag, “No one really calls me Y/N.”

“Y/N/N,” he repeats, “I’d really like to speak with Joe if it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, shit. Let me go get him,” I say, walking towards the back. “Hey Jana, I’m gonna go get Joe. Watch the register?”

“I got it,” she hollers back.

“Dude! She’s 16!” I hear who I assume is Sam whispering loudly. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Dean, she’s obviously not 18. Stick to girls your own age,” John responds. “Sammy—.”

I can no longer hear the men as I reach the door to Joe’s office. Jana and Dan had both told me that his door usually stayed open, today it was not only closed, but it was locked as well. I knock, waiting for him to answer. He looks a little frazzled when he opens the door, but smiles at me, “Hey, Y/N/N, what’s up?”

“There’s a guy from Fish and Wildlife; he’s looking into the recent animal attacks? He’s asking about strange occurrences or something? I don’t know, but I know you pay attention to that kind of stuff, so he wants to talk to you.”

“I—shit, yeah, let him know I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he straightens his shirt and closes the door behind him.

I nod and head back to the front of the building. I watch as the boys and their father seem to be in deep discussion. Turning away when I realize Dean has caught me staring. I gather their food, and as I walk towards their table, I can hear that for some reason, I am the current topic of discussion, specifically, my age.

“Actually, I’ll be 17 in a month,” I quip, dropping their food, unsure of why I am engaging with this odd group of men.

“Huh?” Dean looks at me curiously.

“Well, for some reason the two of you are overly concerned with my age, I’ll be 17 next month.”

“Still illegal, Dean,” Sam smirks.

“Yeah, but right up your alley, Sammy,” Dean winks at him.

“Boys, stop treating this girl like she’s a piece of meat,” their father doesn’t even look up from his plate.

I can’t help myself, I’m usually not this brazen, but something about these outsiders coming in, I have to say it, “Well, here in the Great State of Texas the age of consent is 17, it’s not technically illegal,” and before I can stop myself I wink at Dean.

“Oh, Y/N, you are killing me here,” he says, bringing his hand to his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, but Sammy here,” Dean grabs Sam by the shoulders, “may be able to help you out.”

Sam blushes furiously; it’s actually adorable. I can feel the heat coming up in my own cheeks, and know if I stay any longer, they will see it very clearly.

“Joe’ll be out in a few minutes,” I say, turning to go back to the register. I walk away, adding a little sway in my hips as I know the younger men are watching. “Lemme know if there’s anything else I can get you,” I shoot another wink, this time in Sam’s direction.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” John’s baritone voice carries through the restaurant.

I watch Joe take a seat with the three men, the younger boys listening and observing their father very carefully. I watch John grab something—a fork?— out of his pocket and discreetly place it in front of Joe. Why would he do such a thing? Joe and the men continue to speak for 10 minutes until the dinner rush starts, and Joe excuses himself.

The three men finish their burgers and leave the restaurant; concern etched on their faces as they have a heated conversation.

Throughout the dinner rush, I notice that Sam is stationed outside of the building. It looks as though he’s watching somebody. But every time I look up, his position has changed. After it grows dark, I can no longer see him outside; I realize I shouldn’t let him occupy my mind. Jana and I work furiously until a few hours later when we finally close.

“First day on your own,” Jana says, letting her hair down and hopping onto the counter. “You did good Y/N/N, only a couple mistakes.”

“Thanks, it’s not always gonna be like that, right?” I say, sighing, mimicking her actions with my own hair.

“Nah, I mean, the Friday and Saturdays will be, but unless it’s a school break, the nights are not usually too crazy,” she reassures me.

“Thank God,” I laugh, “what about the customers? Did you see those guys earlier? The ones talking to Joe?” I ask, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that I am blushing at the mention of the men.

“Oh, you mean the green-eyed one who was clearly hitting on you?” She smirks at me, “With the older guy and the really tall guy?”

“Yeah… you have an excellent memory…” I laugh, “he was so cheesy. ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” I mock him. “I mean, he can’t think girls really fall for that? Even the tall one knew it was a bad line.” I blushed a little, thinking about them.

“Oh my god, you like him, green-eyes.” She gasps, “You wanna jump his bones,” she sang mockingly at me, “you love him!”

“Shut up,” I threw my apron at her playfully, “I do not want to jump his bones. Besides, I’m jailbait. He’s at least 21 or so.” Jana raises her eyebrow at me. “He basically told me he couldn’t.”

“So… you’re saying you would if he was younger?” she giggles.

“Jana! No! He’s not my type. He’s way too cocky—he probably thinks he’s God’s Gift to Women,” I mock him again.

“What about the tall one? He was gorgeous,” she offers, “And the dad? He’s hot, like I will so call him Daddy. Let him just—."

“That’s way too much information, Jana. Anyway, if green-eyes is too old, how on earth is the dad not even more wrong?”

“That’s what makes it so hot… like, the wrongness of it…” she says mock fanning herself. “Okay, so clearly, the giant is the one you’re gonna have to do. You can just climb on top—" she says, moving her whole body onto the counter, “and take him for a ride.”

“Jesus, Jana.” I try to suppress my embarrassed laughter. But I blush furiously at the thought of Sam, especially with the image that Jana just planted in my head. I cover my face with my hands as I try to compose myself.

“Oh my god, you are so red!” Jana laughs, “It’s the giant! He’s the one you lo-ove!”

“I don’t even know him! They’re just passing through. You know the type, no one actually moves here. Not for real, at least. They’ll be gone in a week.”

“Y/N/N, that’s why it’s perfect. Hook up, get all that pent-up frustration out of your system, and then you’ll go your separate ways,” she offers. “Wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.”

“I’m really not into that one-night stand stuff,” I say, “I mean, what’s the point?”

“Come on, Y/N/N, that’s the point. Sometimes you just need a release. It’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with some guy you just met and hook-up with once. I mean, you’ve hooked up with guys before, right?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Oh, my God. Y/N/N, you’re not a virgin, are you?” she whispers so that Dan and Joe won’t hear. I nod, I didn’t have a problem with my own virginity, but other people did. I know I have plenty of time. And with how busy mom and dad keep me, I have no time for boys. “Oh, okay, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know. Besides, mom and dad don’t even like the thought of me dating; they’d make the guy ask for permission. It’s not that I would ever have time for it anyway. Either way, it’ll happen whenever it happens, and it will probably not be great the first time,” I laugh, trying to break the serious look on Jana’s face. “I have very low expectations, especially if he’s never done anything either. Most boys my age don’t know what they’re doing anyway.”

“Not to be all romantic or whatever, but you know it doesn’t have to be like that. Your first time doesn’t have to suck. It can be really nice if you get the right person.”

“I figure it will either be awesome or okay,” I laugh, “hope it’s awesome, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay, I’m gonna have one more mom moment with you, and then we can leave, okay?” she grows slightly serious, and I nod my head. “Bring condoms.” I choke out a laugh. “I’m serious. Don’t count on the guy to do it. And don’t trust the ‘pull-out’ method. Dudes always think they can time it right, and half the time…” she makes a gesture I don’t quite understand, I look at her confused. “Inside. Or at least not all the way out. And I’m sure getting pregnant isn’t a part of your grand plan.” She smiles softly. “If you ever need someone to talk about this stuff with, you can come to me, okay?”

“Thank you, if and when the day ever comes, I’ll be sure to tell you.” She raises her eyebrow. “I swear. Don’t count on it being anytime soon, though.”

Jana finishes counting the tips, and I count the register. We grab our bags, say goodbye to Dan, who’s still closing down, and Joe, who’s in the office looking at receipts.

Jana and I live about a block away from each other, and close enough to the restaurant that neither of us bothered driving. Every week it’s getting colder, and I know by the first week of December it will be too cold to walk home at night. But until then, Jana and I walk together, her house off of the main road that leads to mine.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you all the way home?” Jana asks as we reach her street.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Then you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m prepared.” She pulls mace and a small knife that’s attached to her keychain out. “If someone or something tries to get me, stab stab.”

“Jesus, Jana,” I laugh out of shock. “No, I’ll be fine, how about tomorrow before work I get me one of those and then I’ll be prepared as well.”

“Fine, but call me when you get home,” she jots a number down and waves goodbye, “I’m serious Y/N/N, call me. If you don’t, I will call your parents.”

“I will,” I yell, turning back to head home.

I feel that I’m being followed. Paranoid, I know. I swear I can hear footsteps behind me, but every time I turn around, there’s nothing there. Freaking Jana, this is her fault. I’ve never had issues walking home at night before, but now I’m hearing things that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t put “I’m prepared,” in my head, now feeling like a taunt. I’m less than 5 minutes away from my house; what could possibly happen?

I hear a growling, something inhuman; it grows louder as I try to will myself to move faster. I turn the corner, and that’s when it happens, someone, something, jumps out of nowhere and starts running towards me. I try to run, but my legs won’t move, “fuck.”

I hear yelling, but I still can’t move, the creature is getting closer to me, and I get a good look at it. Claws, it has fucking claws. Its eyes are yellow, and its teeth are huge. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a werewolf. But werewolves don’t exist. This must be the creature that John was looking for.

‘It’s some kind of rare species of bear,’ I tell myself, ‘a bear.’

It’s only about a foot away from me; it looks like something out of a horror movie. It’s on its hind legs, unnatural noises leave its body, and before I can even move, it's swiping at me. All I can do is close my eyes and pray it doesn't kill me. A loud bang forces my eyes open, I stand there, still unable to move. I look up to see a set of familiar eyes before me, ones I hadn’t expected to see ever again. Sam.

Chapter 2

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #Elastic Heart #Elastic Heart 1

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aidanchaser · 4 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @aubsenroute, @somebodyswatson

Chapter Two In Memoriam

“So do you live in London?” Sirius asked, unsure what to say.

The man on the other side of the table shook his head. He wore a silk scarf that was brightly coloured. It was such a stark contrast with the black jacket and dark jeans that Sirius had initially thought that the man was a Wizard masquerading as a Muggle.

“Just here on holiday,” he said jovially, and took a sip of his bottled drink. He had called it an “alcopop” and that was when Sirius had decided that he was not a wizard after all. Sirius was just too out of touch with Muggle trends.

“I’m glad you got home alright last night,” the man said. “To be honest, I didn’t actually see you go into your place. It was like you were there on the pavement, then suddenly you were gone.”

“Maybe you were as drunk as I was,” Sirius said.

It had been a few weeks since Dumbledore’s death, a few weeks since Tonks and Remus had finally formalised their relationship, and exactly twenty-two hours since Sirius, James, and Lily had talked them out of eloping. Sirius wanted to be happy for Remus and Tonks — and sometimes he was — but last night he had made the selfish and reckless decision to abandon the Potters and slip out to London and disappear into a drink.

Or, more accurately, several drinks.

“Thanks again for your help getting me home,” Sirius said. If he had tried to Apparate in his state, he would have splinched himself terribly.

“It was no trouble. Well, there was a cab fare, but,” he tipped his drink to Sirius and smiled gratefully. “Though I gotta say, who names a park like that Grim-Old Place?”

Sirius gave him a wry smile, wondering how likely it was that the Black family had founded that area and named it themselves, back when the founders of Hogwarts had only just conceived the idea of a magical school. But that wasn’t a joke he could make with this man. He wondered how you joked with people you didn’t know. Sirius had been friends with James, Remus, and Lily for so long, he couldn’t remember what it was like to meet someone new. Even Regulus, who he could only just recently count as a friend, had enough shared history with Sirius that there was a foundation. What did you say to some guy you met in Soho, who helped your wasted ass home and slipped his number into your back pocket?

“A good question,” Sirius said, and fidgeted with the handle of his mug. “Probably some creepy old family with more money than they knew what to do with.”

The man in the scarf laughed, and Sirius felt a little more confident.

“Well, at least they’re long gone, eh?”

Sirius’ discomfort must have been obvious because the man across the table raised his eyebrows. “Christ, they’re not the people you still pay rent to, are they?”

Sirius noted the distinctly Muggle interjection. “Actually, it’s my place now.”

He didn’t say that it was the home he had grown up in, run away from, and come back to so he could protect his brother who had broken out of prison. He didn’t say that he had only agreed to live there again with the promise that Remus would stay with him for part of the week to make it bearable. He definitely didn’t say that he never should have gone back there last night, nor that he was lucky to have survived the night, drunken stupor aside, since Snape could easily have betrayed Grimmauld Place’s secrecy to Voldemort.

“Oh!” The man’s smile widened. “You own your own place? In London? That’s great.”

Sirius snorted. “My brother still has the castle.” Though Sirius wondered if it wasn’t actually Andromeda’s. He had not been around for the inheritance battle over Uncle Alphard’s will. He had taken his money and run. “Anyway, I don’t stay in London often,” he added. “Mostly I live with friends.”

The man leaned in closer when Sirius mentioned the castle. “And these friends let you drink alone in London? Seem like poor friends if you ask me.”

“I just needed to be alone for a bit, you know?”

“You didn’t act like you wanted to be alone last night. You kept saying you wanted to invite me in, but you were worried about getting caught. I assumed you had a very strict landlady — or a wife.”

“Did I?” Sirius hardly remembered stumbling into Grimmauld Place. He did remember the vision of Dumbledore rising out of the floor. He had drunkenly stammered out that it wasn’t his fault and had cursed himself for returning to Grimmauld Place at all. He didn’t remember climbing the stairs, but he had woken up in his own bedroom, found the phone number in his pocket, and staggered down to a payphone. He hadn’t meant to get a date out of it, but here they were.

“I’d have taken you back to my hotel if you weren’t so thoroughly trashed.”

Sirius knew by the grin on the man’s face just what that meant, and he thought that if he needed a few more drinks to agree, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He was trying to be better at good ideas, rather than impulsively throwing himself into bad ones. Last night had been a bit of a backslide on that front.

“Thanks,” he said. “But — sorry, I don’t mean… It’s just that my friend’s getting married tomorrow.”

Understanding settled into the man’s face. “You don’t mean your ‘friend’, do you?”

Sirius hesitated, but he had never been one to lie. “I’m happy for him — really — but… I don’t know. They’ve known each other a while, but they’ve only been seeing each other properly for a few weeks.”

“Is she pregnant?”

Sirius choked on his drink, surprised by the bluntness of the question and queasy at the thought of Tonks — his baby cousin — being pregnant.

“Sorry — I didn’t mean —”

Sirius shook his head and grasped for any other line of conversation. “So what do you do for work?”

It was a risky question, since he didn’t have an answer himself. He may not have dated since just after the first war, when he had been certain that his friendship with Remus was over, but Sirius was still fairly confident that “disinherited layabout who relies on his best friend’s money to get by” was not an attractive answer, and he couldn’t exactly say he was too busy fighting in a magical war to stop and look for a job.

“Oh, I don’t work,” the man said, and relief washed over Sirius — temporarily. “I’m a student at the Uni of Manchester.”

He continued with something about where his folks lived, and about staying with them before going back to university, but Sirius wasn’t listening anymore. He tried to wet his suddenly dry palate with a sip of his drink, but it didn’t work. When whatever-his-name-was had finished talking about his parents’ house, Sirius asked, “How old are you?”

“Er — nineteen.”

Merlin, he was hardly older than Harry. He looked older, with his crisp jacket and dark jeans. His shoes were even well-polished. Though Sirius was a bit out of touch with Muggle fashion, he would have at least put his date in his late twenties or early thirties. He looked so well put together. Sirius had been a complete mess at nineteen — not that he was much better now.

“How old are you?” the boy asked suspiciously. Boy, because Sirius could not see him as anything else any longer.

Sirius rubbed his eyes and wished the ringing in his ears would slow down just a little so he could think properly. “Thirty-nine.” Merlin, he was almost forty. He had no business being out with a student. He got to his feet.

“I don’t mind,” the boy said. “Really.”

Sirius shook his head. “You’re hardly older than my godson. Sorry, you seem like a nice kid —” the boy flinched, “— but I couldn’t.”

“At least take me to this wedding. Let this guy see what he’s missing out on —”

“It’s not like that.” Sirius knew there was no explaining to this kid what his relationship with Remus truly was. “Sorry, really. I hope you enjoy your holiday. Thanks again.”

“Come on, I didn’t even get your name.”

Sirius shrugged. “I didn’t get yours.” And he left, half-finished drink still on the table, berating himself as he did.

He knew that he should’ve been with James and Lily last night, even if it had been full of wedding planning. He should’ve been with the people who understood what he was going through, not a stranger in London. Sirius was too old to drink himself to distraction.

He ducked into an alley not far from the pub and Apparated onto the pathway just outside that low, crumbling stone wall that marked the edge of the Potter’s property. The change in scenery was obvious not just in his surroundings, but in the very air he breathed. Sirius had always preferred the fresh countryside to the stifling atmosphere of London. It had been foolish of him to leave the Potters’ in the first place.

In the grass just beyond the wall were the lines that appeared every summer, marking the old building where Linfred of Stinchcombe had once sold potions on the roadside to Wizard and Muggle alike. Of course, magic hadn’t been a secret in those days. Sirius’ family had probably been parading their magic in front of nobles and courtiers, while James’ had been helping people recover from illnesses in a time when magic was the only available cure.

The sun was already low in the sky as Sirius began his walk to the Potters’ house. He was always impressed by how fast the day could slip away when he spent half of it nursing a hangover. Unfortunately, it made his walk across the property incredibly hot. He pulled off his leather jacket, but he would put it back on once in sight of the house. James had always loved to tease him about wearing it in the summer, and he would not deny him the chance.

Despite the heat, the walk was pleasant. It helped to clear his head, to focus on being happy for Remus rather than sorry for himself. Besides, there was enough going on around the wedding that Sirius would need a clear head for. He couldn’t spend the next two days half-sloshed. There was far too much at stake.

Sirius put his jacket back on as he reached the house, and walked in through the kitchen door. The kitchen was empty, which Sirius thought odd. Usually Picksie would have cooked something up by now. He checked his wristwatch to confirm that it was indeed after dinner time. His own stomach growled, and he realised that he hadn’t put anything in it since the heavy, greasy plate of sausage and potatoes he’d had around noon to quell the nausea left by his drinking binge.

He had just opened a cabinet to scrounge for a snack when Lily appeared in the doorway, wand drawn.

Sirius was not ready for a conversation with Lily today. They’d been at each other’s throats more often than not since Dumbledore’s passing. It wasn’t anyone’s fault; the two of them had each received the nail in the coffin for one of their deepest friendships at the same time. Her feelings for Snape were probably more complex than his feelings for Remus, even. At least he had a name for his feelings for Remus. He couldn’t begin to describe how Lily felt about Snape, and he didn’t know if she could either.

So instead of waiting for her to ask some inane, obscure question only he could answer, one he would inevitably respond to inappropriately, Sirius decided to avoid the whole interaction and shifted into a dog.

She put her wand away and rolled her eyes. “Enjoy your bender?”

He barked.

“You reek of booze. Get some water and sit.”

He sat on the floor, a perfectly behaved Irish Wolfhound, and a poorly behaved friend.

Lily drew her mouth into a tight line and sat down stiffly at the kitchen table. When she spoke again, she had managed to smooth out the harsher tone in her voice.

“Please,” she tried, and gestured to a chair.

Sirius recalled his plan to be better at good ideas, and shifted back into himself. He sat across from her at the kitchen table, and did his best to look like a mature adult rather than a scolded child.

Lily flicked her wand and slid a full glass of water his way. She drummed her fingers against the table, and Sirius braced himself for an apology for her behaviour these last four weeks. He even started scripting his own apology.

But Lily did not apologise. Instead, she finally said, “Mellie passed away this morning.”

All the fight in Sirius vanished in a moment and was replaced by guilt. Lily bit down on the inside of her cheek reached her hand out to his.

He and Lily had always been equally terrible at hiding their feelings.

“It’s not your fault for not being here,” she said. “James knows it, and I know it. You’re allowed to grieve what you’re losing, too.”

Her tenderness did not help. He drank the water, wishing it were something stronger, and wondered if growing old really was just one set of bad news after another.

With a great deal of effort, Sirius reached past his own emotions of grief, guilt, and anger in search of something kinder. “How’s Picksie?” he asked.

Lily bit down on her lower lip. “Er — she and James are… well, they’re not fighting, exactly. It’s more of a passive-aggressive thing.”

“What?”

“Picksie thinks Mellie should be buried in her favourite part of the garden. James thinks Mellie deserves to be buried in the Potter family plot.”

“In Godric’s Hollow?” Sirius shook his head. “Christ, James, how does he even think we’ll all get out there? And safely?”

“He isn’t thinking,” Lily said, “but he won’t listen to me, and Remus isn’t — well, he won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“You need me to talk him round?”

“Harry’s trying. I don’t know how well it’s going. And since when do you use Muggle exclamations?”

Sirius shrugged. “I thought I would try something new.”

Lily stared at him, and he wondered if she was trying to use Legilimency to see where he’d been. “And how did trying something new go?” she asked carefully.

“He was too new.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Nice Muggle bloke, but definitely too new.”

Lily did not pick up that it was a reference to the boy’s age, and Sirius was glad. He didn’t need Lily scolding him for going out with someone nearly Harry’s age. He’d tell James later, maybe in a few years, when they could all laugh about it safely.

“Which Auror is here?” Sirius asked.

“Robards himself,” Lily said. “He’s had the decency to stay out of the way, at least.”

Sirius frowned. “Head of the Auror Department doesn’t have better things to do? Do you think they suspect?”

Lily shrugged. “He hasn’t said anything about it, not even a hint, and you know how much Robards likes to talk.”

Sirius downed the rest of the water and left the glass in the sink. “Guess we’d better rescue Harry, then?”

“Are you alright? I know you knew Mellie as a boy —”

“I’ll be okay.” Sirius had been fond of Mellie, though it had taken him a while to grow accustomed to a house-elf that didn’t hate him even when she complained.

He still remembered the very first night he had stayed at the Potters’ at the age of twelve, and he’d overheard her grumbling about boys being allowed to stay out past reasonable bedtimes. Though it had bothered Sirius, James had laughed it off. Eventually, as the years had passed and his summer stays with the Potters had grown longer, Sirius had learned that Mellie’s complaints were just one of the many ways she showed she cared.

“I mean, I miss her, but we’ve known this has been coming… Besides, I think James needs us most.”

Lily nodded.

For James, it must be like losing his parents all over again.

They made their way into the sitting room, and Sirius was surprised to see James unrolling a large piece of parchment onto the low table. Harry and Picksie sat opposite him, and Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Department, had squeezed his very full figure into one of the armchairs by the empty fireplace, clearly giving the family space, but maintaining his duty to the Ministry.

Harry used a couple of well-placed books to keep the parchment flat as he, James, and Picksie all bowed their heads over it. For a moment, Sirius thought it was the Marauders’ Map, but quickly realised that he was not looking at the floorplan of Hogwarts at all; it was a map of Styncon Garden.

James looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “Hey — did Lily —?”

Sirius slid into the seat beside his best friend and wrapped his arm around James’ shoulder. “I’m all caught up and sober to boot. What’s this for?”

“Harry’s brokered a compromise,” James said, as Lily sat on the other side of him and laced their fingers together. “We’re giving Picksie her own plot of land and the space to establish her own family cemetery.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow and looked at Harry. “Can… house-elves own property?”

“Then what do you suggest?” James said. “I can’t bury Mellie in the garden like the family cat —”

“Alright, alright.” Sirius backed down quickly; it was so rarely James who snapped at him. “I think it’s a great idea, I just didn’t know if it was possible.”

“It’s brilliant,” Lily said, and smiled at Harry. “If the Ministry wants to make a fuss, let them.”

Robards snorted from his chair, but said nothing. None of the Potters spared him a glance.

Picksie sniffled loudly and wiped her large purple eyes with a handkerchief. “Misters Harry and James is too kind to Picksie and Mama…”

“It’s only decent,” Harry said. “What about by the lake? Didn’t Mellie like that story about my great-grandfather hiding all that stuff from his cousin?”

“Mama was always very fond of Mister Henry and Mistress Dorothy.” Picksie sniffled again. “B-but Picksie cannot take the lake from the Potters. Picksie cannot —”

“You’re not taking anything,” James said gently. “You’re part of this family, you always have been, and it’s time we all acted like it properly. We should probably give some of it to Sirius, too.”

“I’ve got enough property to my name,” Sirius said. “Maybe if you’d ever gotten your act together and built that Quidditch practice pitch you spent years going on about —”

“Oh, shove it.”

Sirius smiled. “What about this?” He pointed to a spot on the map labeled, “Fairy Garden.” It sounded like a fitting place for a house-elf to start her own home.

“That used to be where Mum hosted teas,” James said, “and her summer garden parties. It’s recently been converted into Lily’s personal garden.”

“Ah.” Sirius resisted the urge to glance at Robards. “Lily’s personal garden” meant it was where they grew wolfsbane and other dangerous — and illegal — potion ingredients. Not a fitting place for a house-elf to start her own home after all.

“There’s the rose garden on the west side,” Lily suggested. “That would be a lovely place to build a home.”

Picksie blew her unusually small nose in her handkerchief. “Yes, the roses are lovely.”

James frowned. “Picksie, if you have an idea, tell us. You’re not being selfish.”

Picksie wrung her handkerchief in her hands and looked nervously between James and the map laid out on the table. “Mama was always liking the willow tree.” She pointed to space on the north side of the map. “Could —” She paused to sniffle again. “Could Picksie make a home by the willow tree?”

“Of course you can,” James said.

Picksie could have Apparated them all to the willow tree, but James wanted to walk. Sirius didn’t blame him. Sirius thought that if Robards hadn’t been there, he would have walked down to the tree as Padfoot. It would have been easier to sort through all his feelings as a dog.

It had been a long time since Sirius had attended two funerals in such a short window. There had been that terrible week when Dorcas Meadows, Benjy Fenwick, and Hector Jones had all gone missing or turned up dead at once, and that had hurt, to lose good friends so suddenly, but it wasn’t this.

The pain of losing Dumbledore was compounded with so many things for Sirius. Everyone, of course, knew that Dumbledore’s death was a huge loss for the Wizarding world at large, and a win for the Death Eaters. That came with fear and grief. Then those in the Order had lost Snape as well. That came with anger and grief. And for Sirius, he had lost Remus that night, too. Not for good, and not completely, but it was a loss nonetheless.

To come home after wrestling with Remus’ wedding announcement only to lose Mellie was just one more drop in a bucket already overwhelmed with sorrow. He wondered if it was possible to become numb to losing people.

At least she had gone peacefully. At least she had been with people who had cared about her. At least she had been with her family.

Lily hastily packed a picnic before they left. She carried the basket in one hand and held onto Picksie’s hand with the other. James carried Mellie, wrapped in a thick blanket, and Robards maintained a respectful distance of a few feet back, wand drawn and eyes alert. Harry fell into step beside Sirius.

“Are you alright?”

Sirius looked at Harry in surprise. He opened his mouth to say he was fine, but the lie died in his throat. “In what way?” he finally managed.

Harry shrugged. “You practically lived here even before you ran away from home, right? Mellie’s important to you, too.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. He was the spitting image of James, right down to the worry line that creased his forehead. “And you disappeared once Mum and Dad started making wedding plans…”

Sirius stuffed his hands into his pockets. Though his grief for Mellie was perhaps the easier line of conversation, he asked, “What did they decide on?”

“They’ll have it in the garden just outside the kitchen. Dad fought for the rose garden, but Mum said the heat’s too much there in the evening.”

“She’s right,” Sirius agreed. “There’ll be shade on the back side of the house at least.”

Harry nodded. “Mum and Dad are in charge of decorating, Picksie said she’d make the cake, the Weasleys are bringing food and seating, and Moody’s officiating.”

He snorted. “I’m sure the photos will come out wonderfully with Mad-Eye standing behind them at the altar.”

“Dad wants you to make sure Remus is ready.”

Sirius pressed his lips together. It was certainly the thing he was most suited for. He remembered the morning before James’ wedding, when he, Remus, and Peter had wrestled with hangovers and a ridiculous number of buttons and laces to get James into his dress robes. That had been as stressful but full of laughter as any of their shenanigans had been.

Getting Remus ready meant they would have time alone together. They would have to talk properly, which they hadn’t done since Christmas. That was Sirius’ fault, more than anything else.

Guilt started to nibble at Sirius’ heartache. He had pushed Remus away just as much as Remus had pushed him. Was it his fault that after Dumbledore’s death, Remus had run to Tonks instead? If Tonks had not been a question, would Remus have come to Sirius in his grief?

And even if he had, would Sirius have really let anything change between them?

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I think I can manage getting Remus ready. But I’m also going to be in charge of music. I don’t trust anyone else with that, especially not Tonks or you.”

Harry did not smile. His mother’s stubbornness and compassion was painfully obvious in that measured gaze. Against Sirius’ better judgement, it riled his temper. He felt heat prickle on the back of his neck and his hands tightened inside his jacket.

Sirius couldn’t explain why compassion and affection so often felt like a threat, no more than he could resist lashing out at Harry as he had against Lily all summer.

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “That I’m terribly unhappy and I wish the wedding wasn’t happening at all?”

Harry, unlike Lily, did not rise to the bait. His voice was cool and even as he said, “No one else disappeared for an entire day and came back smelling like The Hog’s Head.”

“That place smells like a goat’s ass,” Sirius countered. “I don’t smell like a bloody goat.”

Harry, it seemed, had learned his parents’ patience, too, and said nothing.

“Fine,” Sirius muttered. “I’m not happy. At least — some of the time I’m not happy. Sometimes I’m actually really happy. Tonks is family, and Remus is pack, and I want them to be happy. But sometimes… sometimes I think I might drown under the weight of how much I miss him. It comes and goes.”

Harry finally pulled his gaze away from Sirius and looked at the willow tree on the horizon. He frowned, thoughtfully, and ran a hand through his hair again. “Like grief,” he finally offered.

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “It’s a bit like grief.”

When they reached the willow tree, James and Sirius dug out a small space beneath the tree for Mellie to rest in while Picksie ran her fingers along the bark of the tree and carved Mellie’s name into it. Robards maintained a respectful distance, outside the willow tree’s low-hanging branches. Sirius thought perhaps they were lucky it was Robards on watch today. They could have had Longfellow, who probably would have tried to make them all a pie to be helpful, not realising that they would prefer to have space.

Harry helped Lily set out a hastily packed picnic. Sirius stomach rumbled as she unpacked sandwiches and it was all he could do not to run over and snatch one out of her hands. Instead, he waited while James set Mellie into the ground. The goodbyes were short, but sweet, and all of them worked together to fill the ground back in.

“I wish Remus was here,” James said, as he cleaned his hands and sat down on the picnic blanket beside Lily.

Lily took his hand and kissed the back of it. “I know. I wish we didn’t feel like we had to rush this.”

“Mama would be happy,” Picksie sobbed. “to know there’s something worth celebrating tomorrow.”

“No she wouldn’t,” Sirius said. “She’d be annoyed and tell us the food and decor were all wrong, and get mad when we wouldn’t let her change it. And she’d be furious when tomorrow night —”

Lily elbowed him and cast a meaningful eye at Robards, outside the low hanging branches of the willow tree.

“Oh, what, like he’s got a pair of Extendable Ears tucked in that thick waistband of his?” Sirius snorted.

It was a solemn but pleasant picnic. James and Sirius swapped different stories about Mellie, everything from her patching up some of James’ worst Quidditch injuries to berating Sirius for leaving muddy pawprints in the kitchen. Picksie contributed some, but mostly she was quiet. She sat by James, holding a sandwich in her hands, though she never took a bite of it. Sirius wondered if she had eaten at all today. He didn’t blame her if she hadn’t.

Grief was not a new feeling for Sirius. He had grieved the deaths of friends, had grieved betrayals of friends, and had even grieved the loss of things he had never truly known, like what it was like to have a family who loved him. It wasn’t until he had met Euphemia and Fleamont that he had even understood that it was possible to have parents who cared, and he had spent years reevaluating what defined a family. His conclusion was that family was made of people who supported you and cared about you, even when you made monumental mistakes.

The Potters, Picksie, and Mellie had given him a home when he had none. James and Remus had stayed by him, even when he had betrayed Remus’ greatest secret to Snape. His Uncle Alphard had given him what he needed to strike out on his own, even when Sirius had already abandoned his family. Then Andromeda and Tonks had stayed by him, even when they had nothing to support him with. Lily had fought with him more than anyone in his life, even his mother, but he knew she would never leave him. She would never banish him from her life, no matter how much he frustrated her.

And when Harry had come along, Sirius was more than happy to add such a small, wonderful child to his family.

Regulus was a more complicated issue, but even as difficult as it had been to have him back, Sirius was glad of it. It was like reattaching a limb he had forgotten was lost.

Remus and Tonks’ wedding was a new monster of grief. Sirius didn’t want to feel abandoned — as he had pointed out to Harry, Tonks was family and Remus was pack. Nothing was changing, but it felt like everything was coming undone. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it, other than antagonise Lily for a distraction. Eventually, though, even that would grow dull, and the ache of losing Remus would remain. There wasn’t anyone he could really talk to about it, either. None of them would quite understand his grief — none of them except maybe Tonks and Remus.

Lily had packed a bottle of Firewhiskey, which James indulged in freely. Sirius abstained, though he would have appreciated something to take off the edges of his grief. He wondered if he would have this kind of self-control tomorrow, at Remus’ wedding. He hoped so. The last thing that they would need tomorrow night was a drunk duelist.

“You know,” James said, taking another sip of Firewhiskey, “I think she did it on purpose.”

Lily frowed. “What?”

“I think she didn’t want to say goodbye to this place again.”

“I think Mister James is right,” Picksie said quietly. “Picksie is not wanting to say goodbye either.”

“This will always be your home,” James said. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to, but it’s not going to be safe to stay.”

“Picksie will go where the Potters go,” she said. “Picksie will stay with her family, and when the Potters come home, Picksie will come home and build her house.”

“We’ll all help,” Lily said.

Sirius wanted to agree, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he took a sip of his water. The thought in his head was not appropriate to share, not here, not at Mellie’s grave. He had antagonised Lily enough these last few weeks. As much as he craved creating chaos to distract him from his grief, he refrained.

But though he kept his mouth shut, Sirius could not shake the thought that Lily’s words were a rather bold promise to make in the middle of a war when any one of them might die tomorrow.

#sirius black #harry potter and the deathly hallows #hp everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #everyone lives au #dh

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becasbelt · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 2/12 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: T Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Characters: Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale, Dr. Mitchell (Pitch Perfect), Beca Mitchell's Mother, Aubrey Posen, Jesse Swanson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, skateboarder!beca, Romance, Angst

* * *

Beca taps her toes against the floor as best as she can from where they dangle in the air. The chair she sits in is small, but not quite small enough that her feet can completely touch the floor.

She stares out the window at all the kids running around waiting for either their parents to pick them up or for the bus to arrive. Two girls are playing some sort of hand game that Beca’s tried to learn before, but could never quite get down. She would have to ask them to teach her tomorrow at recess.

Someone knocks on the door of the classroom, followed by the door opening. Beca whips her head around to see who it is.

“Daddy!” she exclaims when she sees him standing in the doorway. She slips out of her chair and runs over to him, hugging his leg.

Her dad smiles down at her. “Hey, Bug,” he says, ruffling the hair on the top of her small head. Beca giggles. He turns his attention towards Beca’s kindergarten teacher, who has just stood up from behind her desk. “What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Cook?”

Mrs. Cook smiles kindly at him. “It’s really not a big issue, I can assure you, Mr. Mitchell,” she says. “Beca is an excellent student; always so nice to her classmates and very eager to learn.”

Beca beams proudly up at her father. He smiles down at her and pats her head. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but what is it you called me in for?”

Mrs. Cook laces her fingers together in front of her and presses her lips together momentarily. “Well, as enthusiastic as Beca is to learn, she is also enthusiastic about many other things as well,” she starts. “Your daughter has taken a liking to singing lately, and I’m afraid it’s becoming quite disruptive to the rest of the class.”

“My daughter is in trouble… for singing?” her dad asks, sounding confused. Beca also looks at her teacher in confusion, afraid that she’s about to get yelled at.

“Oh no, she’s not in trouble,” Mrs. Cook quickly assures. “We encourage all forms of expression and art at this school, so her singing is not a concern of mine. I just wanted to let you know of this so that we can work together to take steps that will prevent further disruption in a classroom setting. Perhaps letting Beca join some sort of choir will help her to channel her creative energy in a more appropriate environment.”

Beca’s dad thinks about it for a moment. “I guess that makes sense,” he finally decides. He crouches down so that he’s more eye level with Beca.

“Am I in trouble, Daddy?” Beca asks timidly, eyes looking down to the floor.

Her dad chuckles softly. “No, Bug, you’re not in trouble,” he tells her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, causing her to look back up at him. “You like singing, Beca?”

Beca nods her head enthusiastically, grin returning to her face. Her dad smiles back at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Do you want to sing more? With some of your friends, maybe?”

Beca’s smile widens even more. “Yes!” she exclaims.

Her dad laughs and straightens up, taking her small hand in his. He reaches out to shake Mrs. Cook’s hand with his other one. “Thank you for telling me this. We’ll help Beca learn when she should and shouldn’t, uh, share her gifts, I guess.”

Mrs. Cook laughs kindly and says goodbye to Beca and her father. The two of them walk down the hall towards the front door of the school, Beca bouncing up and down in excitement the whole way.

Her dad turns on Frank Sinatra in the car on the way home, and the two of them croon along to the best of their abilities. Beca laughs at her dad as he exaggerates how high some of the notes are, and she thinks that there can’t possibly be anything better in life than this moment right now.

* * *

The store that Beca walks into is small, overcrowded, and looks like it hasn’t been thoroughly dusted in years.

It’s essentially a garage of sorts, with a hangar door along the back wall, concrete floors, and a small office in the back corner. Shelves full of various parts and equipment line one wall while skateboards are displayed along the other. The middle of the room is taken up by a stained couch and a clustered coffee table.

Beca loves it.

She wanders over to the skateboards on display and peruses the various brands and styles available. There wasn’t a huge variety, and there definitely wasn’t anything super noteworthy, but Beca didn’t mind.

It was enough.

A door opening made her turn away from the boards. The blond guy from the booth steps out of the office, beanie on his head and an unlit cigarette in hand. He seems surprised to see her for a moment, so he must not have heard Beca walk in.

“Hey, you’re that girl from the activities fair,” he says in a smooth British accent. He speaks slowly, as if giving her the chance to correct him. “Becky, right?”

“It’s Beca, actually,” Beca corrects, watching him walk over to the coffee table. “And you’re... Luke?” He glances over his shoulder at her and grins.

“Right,” he confirms. Luke stoops down to pick up a lighter off the low table and turns to face her. “What can I do for you, Beca?”

“Um, I was wondering if that job opening on your flier was still open,” she says, pulling out said flier from her bag.

She offers the paper out to Luke, which he takes and spares a glance at before dropping it on the table next to him. “Yeah, it’s still open. It’s not like anyone else has come by for the position, anyways.”

Beca feels a small bit of excitement bloom in her chest. “So could I maybe get an interview or something?”

Luke pauses for a moment to look her up and down, taking her in. Beca’s not wearing anything too fancy; just her usual open plaid shirt over a grey tank-top, with dark skinny jeans and an old pair of black converse. She hopes she wasn’t supposed to be dressed up for this.

“You know anything about skateboards?” Luke asks at last.

“I do, actually,” Beca responds. “I’ve got my own board, and I do a lot of skating in my free time. If you want I can show you a few of my moves and-”

“Okay, sounds good to me,” Luke interrupts before she can finish. Beca raises her eyebrows at him.

“What?”

Luke shrugs. “You seem legit,” he says simply. “Plus, it’s not like you’ll be doing much anyways. Mostly just cleaning up around here and making sure people don’t hang around if they’re high off their asses.”

Beca nods her head. “Yeah, I- I can totally do that. That sounds totally cool.”

Luke chuckles and walks back over to the office to retrieve some papers. “If you keep showing that much enthusiasm for everything, it’ll be real obvious to everyone that comes in here that you’re a freshman,” he teases, handing the papers to Beca. “Fill those out and I’ll let you know when you can start.”

Beca eyes light up. “Really? So I got the job?”

“Yep, you did. An impressive feat, really, considering all your competition,” Luke says sarcastically, gesturing grandly around the room. He heads in the direction of the door, lighter and cigarette in hand. “I’m gonna go take a smoke real fast. Let me know when you’re done filling out those forms, Becky.”

He slips out the door and although Beca wants to be annoyed with him for his arrogance, she can’t quite find it within herself to care. The skate shop wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely the best thing about Barden so far.

* * *

The shaking of her shoulder wakes Beca up from her deep slumber. She blinks groggily up at the person responsible for the end of her sleep.

“Beca, wake up.”

It’s her dad.

Beca suddenly wishes that she would fall back asleep and never wake up.

Nevertheless, Beca groans and rubs at her eyes to let him know that she was mostly awake.

Her dad looks around her room. “Funny, this doesn’t look like your Intro to Philosophy class,” he says with fake surprise.

He’s trying to be funny. At – Beca glances at the time – 11:36 in the morning.

Okay, so it wasn’t that early. But still. She didn’t appreciate it.

“I’m posing an important philosophical question,” she says tiredly, pushing herself up into a sitting position. “If I don’t actually go to that class, will it still suck?”

From the other side of the room, Kimmy Jin turns around momentarily to glare briefly at Beca. Beca just stares right back.

“Oh, come on, Bec,” her father sighs. “You’ve been here, what, a month? Have you made any friends?”

“Kimmy Jin is my friend.”

A sharp “nope” sounds from the other side of the room and Beca shoots a glare at the back of Kimmy Jin’s head.

Good for nothing traitor.

Beca pushes the covers off her legs and stands up to retrieve a hoodie from her closet.

“Have you done anything in your time here other than skip your classes?” her dad continues to question her.

“I got a job at the skate shop,” she answers defensively.

Her dad scoffs. “Oh great, that place. It’s dark and dirty and has, like, what? Those three weirdos that work there?”

Beca holds a hand up to her chest, gesturing to herself. “Well, four, now.”

He sighs in response. “You really don’t want to be here?”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Gee, where’d you get idea from?” she says sarcastically.

“You know what, fine,” her dad suddenly says. Beca perks up instantly, interested in his apparent change of heart. “I’ll make you a deal. If you put in effort and do well in your classes, get involved in some way or another, and still don’t want to be here by the end of the year, you can quit college. And I will help you pay rent for an apartment in Seattle until you find a job.”

Beca’s eyes widen in surprise and excitement. “Seriously?” she asks, not totally convinced that this was real.

“Yes, seriously,” her dad says, then points at her. “But I really need to see it, Bec.” He heads back towards the door to leave. “This is college, join in!”

The door shuts behind him, and Beca stays standing in the middle of her room, unsure of what to do with this new possibility. She picks up her phone to check the time.

11:45.

Beca quickly strips off her clothes and replaces them with her dark blue robe before packing up her shower stuff. If she hurries, she could probably get ready in time for her 12:30 class.

There’s a grin on her face as she rushes down the hall towards the communal bathrooms, and for the first time since arriving at Barden she feels a glimmer of hope inside.

If it would get her out of here faster, she would be the best damn student this trash pile of a university has ever seen.

* * *

Beca’s in such a good mood on her way to the showers that she allows herself to sing quietly under her breath as she walks past empty stall after empty stall before stopping front of one. Because Titanium is actually fairly catchy and she’s feeling optimistic damnit.

She stops in front of one of the stalls and slips her robe off before stepping into the shower and shutting the curtain behind her. She turns on the water and continues to sing – it’s more like humming, really – under her breath.

“Bulletproof, nothin’ to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim,” Beca sticks her hand under the water to check the temperature and a cold brush of air behind her is her only warning before a voice speaks up from behind her.

“You can sing!”

Beca whirls around in surprise. “Dude!” she exclaims, grabbing the shower curtain and pulling it shut in an effort to protect herself.

The curtain is ripped back open a moment later. “How high does your belt go?” A hand reaches through the water to shut it off, and Beca finally takes a moment to actually register who has joined her in her shower stall.

The ginger from the activities fair stands before her, apparently unashamed of her total nudity. Beca blushes furiously and desperately tries to cover herself with her arms. “My what? Oh my god,” she stammers.

“You have to audition for the Bellas,” the girl insists, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort she’s causing Beca.

“I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying until you cover your junk,” Beca informs her, eyes directed at the ceiling.

“Just, consider it,” ginger pushes further while Beca tries to slyly grab the shower curtain to provide herself with more covering to her naked body. “One time, we sang back up for Prince,” the girl continues, as if the fact will convince Beca. “His butt is so tiny I can hold it with, like, one hand.”

She makes a gesture to demonstrate just how tiny Prince’s butt is, and when she brings her hand down it knocks all of the items Beca was clutching in her arms to the floor.

“Oops,” the girl says, sounding unconcerned.

This was surely how Beca was about to die; murdered in the nude by this admittedly beautiful, yet equally nude psycho.

“Oh, Jesus,” Beca mumbles as she turns away from the invader so that her front is pressed up against the tile wall. “Seriously?” Beca spits out, peeking over her shoulder. “I am nude.”

The girl chooses that moment to advance, leaning in towards Beca. “You were singing Titanium, right?” she asks earnestly.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Beca says, not sure why the fact is relevant.

“That song is my jam,” the ginger says, leaning even closer to Beca. Her voice drops in volume. “My lady jam.”

“That’s nice,” Beca says quickly, turning her face towards the wall again.

“It is,” the girl says cheerfully. “That song really builds.”

Beca looks over at her again just in time to catch the wink thrown her way.

Oh hell.

“Gross.”

Psycho girl is silent for a moment before speaking again. “Can you sing it for me?”

Beca’s stomach launches into her throat. “Dude, no!” she sputters, followed by a desperate, “get out!”

“Not for that reason,” the redhead claims. “I’m not leaving here until you sing, so.”

After that the girl is silent. Beca sneaks a peek again and watches as she takes a deep breath and lets it out in an airy sigh.

She was joking right? She had to be joking.

Apparently she was not joking. Ginger kept patiently waiting.

Beca resists the urge to let out a frustrated groan and instead shoots the other girl a tight, close-lipped smile. She hesitantly turns around and crosses her arms over her chest, eyes looking everywhere but at the naked woman in front of her.

When Beca starts to sing, she does so with no idea of where she should start or how long she’s supposed to sing for. Her eyes dart around, and she prays that the ginger will let her go soon.

What Beca does not expect is for the other girl to start singing with her. Beca’s eyes lock onto clear blue ones as they begin to harmonize with one another, their voices blending together to bounce off the walls of the vacant bathroom. Beca forgets about the fact that they’re both naked, forgets that she doesn’t even know this girl. She’s so mesmerized by the music they are creating that all her worries fly away.

Their singing comes to an end and Beca can’t help the small smile that appears on her face. Her companion smiles as well, and Beca finally takes a minute to recognize her beauty.

Which reminds her.

Beca clears her throat and glances down at the other girl’s body briefly before looking pointedly away. She makes a surprised noise.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” the girl says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I’m pretty confident about,” she gestures to her body, “all this.”

Beca looks her up and down once more. “You should be,” she says, feeling her cheeks heat up.

The girl grabs Beca’s towel from where it’s hanging outside the stall and hands it to Beca with a smile. Beca clings it to her chest gratefully. “I still need to shower,” she says awkwardly.

“Oh, of course! I’ll get out of your way, now,” she girl says quickly. She starts walking backwards out of the stall, but her eyes remain on Beca. “See you at auditions?”

“Sure,” Beca says uncertainly.

The redhead seems to accept that. “Great! I’m Chloe, by the way. In case you were wondering,” she winks before turning around and suddenly she’s gone as quickly as she appeared.

Beca shakes her head in disbelief and rips the shower curtain closed after hanging up her towel again. She turns the water on cold and sticks her head under the spray, hoping the icy droplets are enough to force the shock out of her system.

* * *

Beca doesn’t end up going to her 12:30 class.

Which is understandable, she thinks. After all, she did just get accosted in a shower stall.

She chooses to skate for a while instead. To clear her head.

Since Beca still doesn’t know the area very well and the nearest skate park is about five miles away, she decides on a leisurely ride; more just rolling around than anything. She ends up by the lake near campus, looping around the perimeter and watching the wind cause ripples in the clear blue water surface.

The events of the past hour run in circles around her head. First, her dad tells her that she can quit school. Then, a strange, psychotic girl barges into her shower and forces her to sing a duet with her.

Beca honestly doesn’t know which is more surprising.

She definitely knows which is worse, though.

Beca doesn’t think she’s been more uncomfortable in her life than she was when that girl invaded her shower. More than just the fact that she was left totally exposed in front of a perfect stranger, she had had to sing for the stranger as well. And Beca didn’t sing. She didn’t sing and was upset that she had to in order to get the strange girl away.

What was also upsetting was the fact that she’d almost… enjoyed it.

Which was decidedly weird and not okay.

But still… when the two of them had been harmonizing together and their voices had blended together so beautifully, Beca had felt calm. At peace.

Comfortable.

It had almost been enough to make her nostalgic for a time when things were better, before her life had gone to shit. Before-

No, Beca didn’t want to think about the past. No good ever came from thinking about the past.

Beca hits an uneven slab of concrete on the sidewalk, and her skateboard veers off course. She hops off quickly before she can wipe out, letting the board skid off a ways in front of her. With a sigh, she walks over to retrieve it before making her way over to a bench overlooking the lake to rest for a while.

She plops down on the hard wood surface and reaches into her hoodie pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. She hesitates for moment before putting the stick in her mouth and flicking the lighter to life.

Beca inhales the smoke deeply before letting it out in a cloud slowly, relishing in the familiar sense of calm it brings to her anxious thoughts.

Her thoughts switch from the awkward shower encounter to the conversation with her dad. She could be done with college at the end of the year, but only if she got involved and kept her grades up. The grades she could deal with; if she started going to class and actually payed attention, those would stay up naturally. The whole ‘getting involved’ thing was a little more difficult.

She assumed he wouldn’t count her job as being involved, so she had to figure out something else that he would deem acceptable. The only problem was, Beca wasn’t exactly super stoked about the thought of joining any of the clubs she had seen at the activities fair.

Beca takes a long pull from her cigarette and goes over her options for a while. When she doesn't come up with any good possibilities, she sighs in defeat and slouches down on the bench in dismay, sure that she’ll never come up with a good solution.

After a while, her traitorous mind drifts towards the shower incident again, specifically the end of it. See you at auditions, the redhead had said.

No, that wasn’t an option, Beca thought. She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to deal with music anymore. She didn’t want it in her life; didn’t need it in her life. Joining an a cappella group – gag – simply wasn’t an option.

Beca would figure something else out. She was not going to auditions.

* * *

She was at auditions.

Beca stands backstage, watching various singers belting as high as they can for the groups sitting in the audience. Her hand taps her thigh anxiously.

What was she doing here?

She didn’t like singing, she thought a cappella was lame, she didn’t even know the song everyone has been auditioning with. This was a horrible idea. She should just get out of here before-

“Okay, and that’s the last of them!”

And there goes her chance. At least now she didn’t have to decide if she was actually going to go through with it or not.

She hesitantly steps more towards the edge of the curtains to sneak one last peak of the room. A scrawny pale dude is jabbering away about how crappy everyone who tried out was while everyone starts packing up their stuff. Beca shrugs and takes one step back to slip out without anyone noticing she was even there.

“Oh, wait! There’s one more!”

Shit.

It was the girl from the shower. Chloe, if she remembers correctly. Of course.

Beca grits her teeth and walks out on stage. “Hello,” she says awkwardly, giving a little wave.

Chloe beams up at her and beckons her closer. The blonde from the activities fair (Aubrey?) stares coldly up at her. Beca chooses to focus exclusively on Chloe, since she’s the one who told her to come here.

“Um, I didn’t know we had to prepare that song,” she admits, feeling foolish.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Chloe assures her. “Sing anything you want.”

Panic grips Beca momentarily. She was not ready to do this.

Her eyes dart around the room as she tries to think of what to sing. She briefly considers I'm A Little Teacup before quickly dismissing the thought. Her gaze eventually lands on a bright yellow cup holding an array of pens sitting on the table in front of Chloe and Aubrey, and a terrible idea pops into Beca’s head.

She gets down on her knees and leans over to reach the table. “May I?” she asks, gesturing at the cup.

Chloe nods her head to let her know she doesn’t mind, so Beca awkwardly dumps the pens out and leans back onto the stage. She crosses her legs and takes a moment to get settled before glaring down at the cup. With a sigh, she claps her hands to begin the familiar song she’s known for so many years as an unwelcomed memory invades her mind.

Her dad, sitting in front of her on the ground, a cup moving skillfully in his hands as he sings a simple melody. Beca stares at him in wonder.

“Can you teach me that, Daddy?” she asks once his song is done, looking up at him with pleading blue eyes.

He smiles at her with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t know, Bug. I’m not quite sure you possess the amount of skill needed to do this.”

Beca shakes her head. “I can do it,” she says confidently.

Her dad laughs before reaching behind his back to magically pull out a second cup. “I know you can. I have complete faith in you, Beca.”

The cup hits the stage one last time with a resounding thump. Beca retracts her hands immediately and folds them neatly in her lap. She looks briefly at Aubrey to see her pursing her lips in an unimpressed manner before looking back at Chloe. The smile on the ginger’s face is almost enough to balance out the regret overtaking Beca.

Almost, but not quite.

So, without another word, Beca stands up and walks off the stage, leaving the cup behind her. If she’s lucky, they won’t even pick her, and she can forget this whole stupid audition ever happened.

* * *

In hindsight, Beca should have known that her luck wouldn’t hold out. Perhaps the universe just enjoyed making Beca miserable, or maybe it was the fact that Chloe Beale always got her way. Nevertheless, Beca has lost all hope in ever having the odds in her favor ever again.

She stands at the top of an outdoor amphitheater, watching a cappella nerds mingle with each other, and wonders how the hell her life had gone downhill so quickly.

If there was a God, Beca wanted to have a few words with him.

The initiation ceremony she’d been dragged – literally dragged, with a hood on her head and everything – to had been frightening and confusing, to say the least. She doesn’t really remember most of the details of it, since she’s pretty sure her fight or flight instincts had been activated the moment the hood went over her head, but she’s pretty sure there had been something about wolves and vocal chords and blood of the sisters.

Honestly, what the hell.

Her inner anguish is interrupted when she spots a head of red hair rapidly approaching her. Beca doesn’t even have time to even think about running away before Chloe is grabbing her hands and pulling her close.

“I am so glad that I met you,” Chloe tells her sincerely, leaning her face in close to Beca’s. Her breath smells like whatever alcohol is available at this thing, and Beca momentarily wonders how much she’s already had to drink. Chloe leans closer still so that their foreheads are resting together. “I think, that we’re gonna be really fast friends.”

“Yeah,” Beca says amusedly. She doesn’t really know how to handle this whole situation, so she decides to fall back on sarcasm. “Well, you saw me naked, so,” she adds a wink to her statement without really thinking.

Chloe giggles and runs her hands up and down Beca’s arms. Beca tries not to shiver at the contact. “Have you had anything to drink yet?” she asks.

“Nope, but it seems like you have,” Beca replies.

A small expression of shock crosses Chloe’s face and she swats at Beca’s arm. “Oh, shut up. I’m not that drunk.” Beca can tell she’s not actually upset because her smile is still intact and a twinkle appears in her eye. Chloe reaches down to lace their fingers together and starts pulling her down the steps of the amphitheater. “Come get a drink with me. You need to un-grumpify yourself.”

Beca laughs and allows herself to be pulled along. She’s just taking the first sip of her drink, Chloe latched onto her arm as she talks with one of the new Bellas, when music starts playing. There’s a noise of approval from the crowd gathered together as everyone begins to dance. Chloe starts pushing Beca over to the dancing mass, but Beca slips her arm out from Chloe’s grasp.

“I actually think I’m going to head home,” she explains when Chloe looks at her questioningly. She pushes her drink into the ginger’s hands. “I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”

Chloe pouts. “But the music just started,” she says.

Beca shrugs. “Sorry, dude. I’ve gotta go.”

Chloe surprises Beca by pulling her into a tight but brief hug before letting her go with a “see you tomorrow!” Beca waves awkwardly goodbye and starts hiking back up the steps towards her dorm.

When she opens the door to her dark room, she doesn’t even bother turning on the light or changing her clothes. She just kicks off her shoes, sheds her jacket, and flops down on top of her bed.

The silence that surrounds her is blissful, but unfortunately it leaves her alone with her thoughts. Beca has done more singing in the past 48 hours than in the last three years. Her head pounds with a headache, and the emotions raging inside threaten to break free. Beca tries to push them down and ignore them, but they feel more fresh than they have for a long time.

With a sigh, she rolls onto her side and closes her eyes, hoping that if she goes to sleep now, she’ll wake up in the morning and discover that this whole mess was just one bad dream.

#fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #life is not a love song

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nerdygaymormon · 6 years ago

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Maybe you've answered this before, but why don't you just leave your church? Doesn't it bother you being part of something that rejects you? Don't you want love? I don't understand why gay people ever stay in that church.

I get these questions from time to time. Never sure what to make of them. I get that it’s unusual for a gay guy my age to still be part of church. I hope part of this is they like me and want me to be happier. But it also feels like they are looking down on me, idk.

I don’t have a short, simple answer, so strap in, it’s going to be a long ride.

1) I was a teenager in the 1980’s. It is hard to be gay now, but it was so bad back then. Being gay was shameful. The 80′s was the AIDS crisis, so mostly what I heard about being gay was death. There were no legal protections, society was against us. Actively hostile, bigoted statements were common. My own dad told homophobic jokes to big laughs. Coming out looked like I’d be condemning myself to a terrible life and strip all the good things from me.

Also, with no role models, I was having to work through what it means to be gay. I also did manage to get ahold of a gay porn magazine (this is long before internet was a thing). I was crazy to think I could hide it. I shared a room with three brothers so no privacy. Despite my denials, my parents knew this was mine and they were so upset. My dad now tells me he wishes he sent me to conversion therapy once he learned I had this magazine. Can you imagine?

2) I grew up believing in this church, which included the terrible things taught about me as a gay person. At age 19 when my bishop challenged me to pray about going on a mission, I instead prayed to know if God could possibly love me (which is really sad that a kid could grow up in church and not know that). I felt love radiate across my body as a voice in my ear said “You are not broken.” That experience sustained me for a long time

3) I went on a mission in the 1990’s. If you haven’t been on a mission, it’s probably a surprise that it can be a relief. There’s no pressure to date. I could form close bonds with other men, and even though these are non-romantic relationships, they are intensely close.

4) I was still in the closet when I went to the church schools in Rexburg & Provo. At the end of my first semester, my roommate came on to me and let me feel him up and stuff. I went to sleep thinking maybe the two of us could leave the church, transfer to a different school, say goodbye to my family and we could have a life together. It would be a huge sacrifice for both of us and I thought he felt the same, but the next morning he turned me in to our bishop. I thought I was going to get kicked out of school, be sent home in disgrace, maybe disciplined out of the church, but instead I was put on probation and had to stay the summer in Rexburg. I was heartbroken and swore off love and focused on school. At the end of the summer, to my surprise the bishop made me the elders quorum president.

That first roommate, we were best friends. He is Bi and decided a life with a woman would be easier, and considering it was the 1990′s, he was correct. He left school a few days later, met a woman and got married. I hate how he ended things, but I don’t blame him for the future he chose for his life.

5) BYU in Provo was my backup school, and reluctantly it’s where I transferred to. It turned out that I genuinely liked BYU with 2 exceptions, the severe restrictions the Honor Code placed on LGBT students (which was the same as at the Rexburg campus), and the fierceness with which the Honor Code Office sought to enforce those restrictions. Occasionally I’d hear rumors of sting operations they had done to catch gay students. There was this low-level fear always of getting caught whilst a student in Provo. My roommates also expressed their dislike of anything remotely gay. Even though I kept the rules, I didn’t dare tell anyone that I’m gay because the potential cost was high.

While at BYU I had a major faith crisis. I no longer believed a lot of the truth claims of the church, but I wasn’t about to lose all that tuition money. I stuck it out. So not only was I pretending to be straight, I also had to act as though nothing about church bothered me.

6) The same voice that told me I am not broken would occasionally tell me that it’s okay to pursue relationships. It gave me great hope. I still get that message. Being a good Mormon, I thought this meant that somehow God was going to change the church. In the temple I’d hear that it’s not good for man to be alone and the law of chastity was presented in a way that could include me if I was married to a husband (the temple says no sex except “with your husband or wife to whom you’re legally and lawfully wedded”).

7) After BYU, I should have come out and gotten on with life, but I didn’t. My first job was working for a Mormon boss. A landlord who is LDS gave me a deal on rent. Coming out seemed like it would disrupt my life in really negative ways. Plus YSA Wards were a source of friends and support network.

8) In my 30’s I was no longer in YSA wards, and the world was getting better for gay people. The fight for gay marriage was in full swing, and so many of the people in my life were very opposed to it. It bothered me that the church was so opposed and fought gay marriage because in my head, it was a way for me to follow God’s promptings and pursue a relationship.

Being a Mormon is very much an identity. It’s hard to peel off. It’s my social network, it’s what much of family life revolves around, It’s a belief system and way of viewing the world. it’s a map of what one’s goals in life should be, and so on. Staying in the closet kept the rest of my world intact.

I know you’re thinking wtf, you’re a grown man, own your life!!! I grew up in an unstable family situation (we had many financial troubles and moved frequently), so I crave stability. Remaining in the closet and in the church were keys to maintaining that stability.

9) Squashing all my romantic and sexual feelings also shuts down most other feelings. I spent most of my 20’s & 30’s feeling numb, like I was watching life but not a part of it. I spent those years wishing I was dead, that a bus would hit me or a major disease would strike. Those kinds of deaths would end my misery and also be okay for my family because they wouldn’t have to know I’m gay. I recognize now how messed up that is.

10) The great source of happiness in those years was being an uncle. I’m the oldest of 7 children, my siblings had lots of babies born in those years. The joys of being an uncle only increased the pressure to stay in the closet and in the church because if I didn’t, my only source of happiness might be taken away.

11) I finally reached the point where I was tired of going through the motions of having a life. I was ready to come out. Rather than make some grand announcement, I decided to be honest with anyone who asked about my life. When someone tried to set me up with their friend, I would ask if she had a brother. As these sorts of situations came up, I was coming out to people one by one.

I didn’t exactly “come out” to my family. I figured since my parents had found the gay porn mag when I was a teen, and then gay porn malware on the computer when I was college student, they probably already knew (and they did, but were in denial). Also, I thought coming out would be saying I’m not trustworthy and an awful person for having pretended to be something I wasn’t for so long (not true, but that’s how I thought of it).

12) I’m such a late bloomer that I sometimes am embarrassed about it, especially now that so many people come out in their 20′s and even as teenagers. At the first Pride parade I attended, someone told me that we all come out when it’s right for us, and this was my time. I think that’s true.

13) Most of my adult life in church was being pianist in Primary. Shortly after I started telling people I’m gay is when I was called to be in the stake young men presidency. My stake president says he looked over at me playing piano one day and thought, “that man has much more to offer.” I wonder if it’s because I was more confident, my identities were less in conflict than they’d been in the past, I wasn’t afraid and hiding.

As stake young men president, I made sure I knew by name and something about every youth in the stake. I wanted them to know they were seen, they were heard, they were loved. Teens go through such hard things and I wanted to be a kind, supportive person in their life. Most youth don’t know who the stake youth leaders are, but they all knew me. Several told me about hard things in their life and some even came out to me. Parents of gay teens would come speak to me and I’d let them know life in church is hard and unfair, ways they could help support their teen, and prepared them that their child’s likely path would be out of the church. I felt like I bloomed in this calling and made a difference.

14) In 2015 marriage became legal for same-sex couples across the USA due to a Supreme Court ruling. I thought that finally the church would have to come to terms with it and accept it. But then came the November policy banning the children of gay couples from being members. It felt like a punch in the gut and I nearly walked away. I was still stake young men president and weighed whether the difference I made in this calling was worth putting up with how church clearly didn’t want me.

15) To help my parents buy a house, I had a bunch of their debt put into my name and I lived in the house with them. At the time it seemed a good way to avoid the loneliness of being on my own. But living with them also made walking away from the church tricky.

16) A month later I hit the 3-year mark of serving in the stake young men’s program, I was released from that and called to be stake executive secretary. My stake president told me that anyone can make appointments, but he wanted my unique viewpoint in all the highest councils of the stake. In this calling I occasionally meet general authorities and I speak with them about being gay in the church. My stake President recently joked that he has twice been a counselor in a stake presidency and now is a stake president, and in those years he’s met many general authorities, yet I have way more impact on them than he ever has.

17) Shortly after getting this new calling, in 2016 I started my tumblr blog. Eventually I used the blog as a way to examine, explore and record what it’s like to be gay in the LDS church. In some ways this blog is one giant pep talk to myself.

18) In 2017 my blog exploded, one of my posts went viral. It’s almost like God got tired of waiting on me, now I was out to everyone who knows me, and many more.

All of a sudden I had so many hurting Mormon LGBT people contacting me, most were teens and twenty-something’s. I’ve tried to help them, to affirm them. In many ways it feels like the years as stake young men president working with teens, the years I spent developing a spiritual independence, the studying & thinking about how being gay can work with the gospel, the fears & worries that are part of being in the closet, all of that prepared me for this.

19) Later in 2017 my mental health dived. I became suicidal. I started therapy. I finally had to face how harmed I’ve been by my time in church. I also had to admit I will never be enough in this church, I can never reach the goals & purpose of life as laid out by the church,. My therapist helped me see that I need another framework for what a successful life looks like and what would make for a joyful life.

In 2018 I was still in therapy and was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, which partly explains why coming out and leaving the church were so difficult. The major driving motivation of this disorder is wanting to not disappoint people.

20) My therapist says I feel things more deeply than most people, but because I’d pushed down my feelings so long, it’s actually a bit scary to feel so much. I also started dating and trying to get gay friends. These sorts of big changes were hard for me. The psychologist said, in an amused tone, that I fully examine a path before I’m willing to take a step down it, meaning I’m cautious and slow to get going, but am certain when I begin of where I’m going.

21) Some of my family openly embraces me as gay and loves me no matter what. Some make their love and access to their children conditional on my being in church.

22) I thought 2018 would be the year I leave the church. There’s a personal reason I haven’t; I feel there’s one more thing to do, a friend whom I can help. That I came ahead to pave the way for this friend.

I know this all sounds crazy, talking about a voice telling me it’s okay to have gay relationships or that I have some missions in life to accomplish. That’s part of faith, I guess.

23) It’s unfair to say I’m still attending church for my friend. First, I don’t want him to feel any pressure. Second, it’s my decision, not his. I also am working on paying off debt so I can more easily live on my own, I’ve joined Affirmation and met a lot of LGBT Mormons/post-Mormons and feel like there’s something of a potential support group/friendships there. I’m thinking of changing jobs, even moving to a different university. In other words, I’m laying the groundwork to make any shift more smooth. Whether I take a breather from church or not, these are good things to do.

24) I’m in my 40′s and can see that in some important ways I’ve lived a stunted life. But I’m also able to use my voice to speak up for LGBT individuals inside the church, to try to make this little corner of church kinder and more receptive.

25) I can’t even imagine what you’re thinking of me. A hypocrite, someone who stays with an organization that contributed to my own mental health crisis. Someone too afraid to live. I can’t undo my past and all that lost time. I’ve made a lot of progress and am moving forward. I also believe and hope that things I share on this blog and things I say in my local church help LGBT members.

Maybe you can understand, maybe you can’t, why my life went so differently from yours. I’m certain you won’t agree with a number of decisions I made, but they were mine to make and they explain where I’m at now.

#David gets personal

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ambssssssssss · 5 years ago

Text

Someday

Part 1/2

Ship: Skimmons/BioQuake

Summary: A freak accident puts Skye on Shield's radar earlier than expected. With nowhere else to go and nothing to lose, Skye agrees to attend Shield Academy. There she finds friends and a purpose, and Jemma Simmons, her roommate that Skye finds herself falling for. By the end of her first year at Shield Academy, Skye finds herself wishing that someday would be today.

Also up on AO3

Skye shivered slightly in the borrowed clothes she wore, cupping the warm cup of coffee she had been given in both hands. She tries to keep herself from touching the cold metal of the table she sit at and instead chooses to hold her cup up closer near her chest. The position allows Skye to focus on the steam rising from the coffee rather than the flickering, too bright light that hands above her. She almost feels like laughing; her situation is so remarkably similar to the old cop shows her last foster family had been so fond of. When the door opens, Skye half expects a grey-haired man with a fedora and a half-smoked cigar hanging from his lips to walk in. Instead, a woman enters with long dark hair haunted, dark eyes.

The woman silently takes her place in the seat opposite Skye, her expression impassive and unreadable. Skye meets the woman’s eyes and quickly looks away, fidgeting with the towel wrapped around her shoulders that she had been using to keep her borrowed clothes dry since her wet hair had been dripping when she arrived there. Without anything else to do – and unable to hold eye contact with the stern looking woman – Skye raised her cup of coffee to her lips and took a long drink. The liquid is still hot enough to burn her tongue, but Skye does her best not to react and drains the cup. She places the now empty cup on the table and folded her hands together in her lap so the other woman can’t see them fidgeting.

“More coffee?” The woman asks after an uncomfortably long stretch of silence. Skye shakes her head and picks at her cuticles. “Do you know you’re here?’

“Under arrest, I guess,” Skye answers without looking up from her hands. “Isn’t that what normally happens in these situations?”

“How often do you think something like this happens?” There’s a hint of something in the woman’s voice, an underlying, almost teasing quality that makes her seem more human.

Skye thinks about how she ended up in this position. She remembers walking into the apartment building she lived in, doing her best to avoid the landlord since she was already three months behind on her rent. She remembers being in a sort of daze, thinking of the information she had uncovered. Skye had been itching to look into her past long before she aged out of the foster system and had finally been able to hack into her records, only to find them heavily redacted by a government agency she had never heard of. Skye didn’t learn anything that she hadn’t already known. She had been angry and confused with no idea how to move forward. Then the building started shaking around her. A few seconds later and the apartments had collapsed in a spectacular, muddy mess as the pipes burst and bricks crumpled. When the dust had cleared, Skye stood alone in the center of destruction completely unharmed except for a trickle of blood running from her nose. The other residents hadn’t been so lucky.

“Not very, I guess.” Skye tried to shake of the memory of her neighbors moaning in pain and focus back on the place she was then. The woman’s next question didn’t help that at all.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?”

“The building collapsed.” Skye mumbled. “I know you want to know how but I don’t know. Everything was fine one second and in pieces the next.”

“Except everything wasn’t fine, was it?” Skye doesn’t think she likes the knowing glint in the other woman’s eye. “Not when you’re behind on rent and highly emotional after learning some disturbing news.”

“I didn’t do this.” Skye says, an uncomfortable weight settling in her stomach at the veiled accusation.

“Maybe not on purpose,” the woman concedes lightly, “but how else would you be the only one uninjured?”

“Luck?”

“You don’t believe that, do you Skye?” The woman quirked one eyebrow, looking for a reaction from Skye at the use of her name.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Agent Melinda May. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Logistics Division.”

“Never heard of it.” Skye said. Agent May shook her head.

“You have, recently at that. Looking through encrypted files.” Agent May left no room for argument and Skye knew she was busted. Looks like her promised invisible backdoor had been visible after all.

“What do you want from me?”

“We want you to join us.” Agent May says simply.

“Right,” Skye drawls sarcastically, stretching out the last syllable.

“I’m serious, Skye.” Agent May remains completely straight faced as she continues speaking. “We need someone with your attributes.”

“What attributes? The ability to knock down a building?” Skye scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest with a disbelieving huff. May remains silent, watching Skye with a critical eye. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Skye speaks again. “What do you want from me?”

“We want you to train up, but your skills to use.” Skye watches as Agent May leans forward in her seat, resting her forearms on the table. “I know you’re scared and confused. You want answers. We can help you get them, give you a home and purpose while we’re at it. What have you got to lose?”

Nothing. Skye didn’t have anything to lose. No family, no home, nothing but a beat-up backpack and a few sets of clothes. And here was the people she had been looking for answers from, willing to give them to her. For a price, sure, but Skye already had nothing to her name. There wasn’t anything else they could take from her.

“Okay,” Skye agrees after a few minutes of consideration during which Agent May had waited patiently. “I’ll come with you. I’ll train.” Agent May nods like she had expected no other answer. Rising from her seat, May pauses when Skye calls her name. “Why me?”

It’s easy enough for May to read between the lines of Skye’s question. Why choose and orphan with a less than stellar record? Why keep those files a secret? Why choose Skye when there were a million other more qualified people?

“You’ve got potential.” Is all May says before leaving the room with a promise to get Skye a place to sleep for the night. Skye feels lighter somehow, the smallest blossom of her rising in her chest.

Joining a government agency requires far more paperwork than Skye expected, which was really something as Skye had expected quite a bit of paperwork in the first place. By the time she finishes with the plethora of legal documents, disclosures and medical forms required, Skye would be happy to never see a pen again. They do have one slight hiccup when it comes to Skye’s name, the issue being that Skye isn’t her legal name. Since she refuses to go by anything other than Skye, another form is required to legally change her name. A little more paperwork later and Shield Academy of Operations gains another cadet by the name of Skye Johnson.

A week later, outfitted with a few new items of clothing and the standard issue supplies given to all first-year academy students, Skye begins the process of moving in to her new dorm. It doesn’t take long for Skye to unpack her meager belongings and she finishes long before the other new students, before her new roommate even arrives. Absent any bedding or toiletries, since all of hers had been destroyed when the building collapses, and with a little bit of money saved up from trying to get together several months’ worth of rent at once, Skye decides to catch a bus to the nearest town.

She picks up a couple of black and grey bedding sets, along with a few good pillows and soft plush blanket that had been too nice to resist before moving to the toiletry section and stocking up there as well. Skye also decides to get an alarm clock and a few other general school supplies, along with a set of luggage that comes with a large duffle bag and a good-sized backpack. Finally, after passing on a leather jacket and grabbing a simple hoodie instead, and a set of shower shoes and some good towels, Skye makes her way to the bus stop and heads back to the academy.

The halls are slightly less crowded when she returns. The parents had all left but the students are milling about in the halls, with most of the dorm room doors open. The door to Skye’s own room is one of the ones open so she makes her way there and steps inside, setting her bags down near her bed before going back and pushing the door closed. As she makes her way back to her bed to finish unpacking, Skye notices the new additions to the room that seem to be courtesy of her new roommate. They mostly consist of a few inspirational posters, a pastel bedspread, and a full periodic table hanging above the bed.

“Oh hello,” Skye turns towards the sound of the accented voice coming from the doorway to the bathroom. “I wondered where you had gone off to. For a moment, I worried that I wouldn’t have a roommate but then I noticed you had your desk set up to I thought you must have stepped out for a moment. I do hope you don’t mind the posters I’ve hung up. I always find their sayings so encouraging.”

“No, they’re fine,” Skye says when her new roomie pauses to take a breath after her babble. “I don’t mind them.”

“Oh wonderful,” the girls offers Skye a smile, one that Skye returns bemusedly.

“I’m Skye,” she says when it becomes apparent that the other girl isn’t going to begin introductions. “Skye Johnson.” She hopes the British girl doesn’t hear the awkward way her new last name falls from her lips.

“Jemma Simmons,” comes the reply as her roommate approaches Skye for a handshake. “I think this is going to be just fantastic, don’t you?”

Skye takes a moment to study Jemma, taking in her pressed cardigan and sensible shoes. She reminds Skye of one of the kids she had met in a foster home as a kid, a piano prodigy that Skye had thought was stuck up and spoiled when they met. Somehow, she didn’t think Jemma would be the same as that kid. Skye offers a half-smile, not quite sure what to make of the girl she’ll be living with for the next eight months. “I hope it is.”

Jemma smiles in return before letting go of Skye’s hand and heading back to finish whatever she had been doing in the bathroom before Skye arrived. She finishes the task quickly, hanging a new shower curtain apparently, and then helps Skye finish getting her bed set up. Jemma keeps up a running commentary as she and Skye fix up their room, talking about her flight from England and the classes she’s enrolled in, what she expects to get out of them. By the time they are done, Skye has learned that Jemma is enrolled of the Academy of Science and Technology, that Jemma already has two doctorates and that her favorite color is teal.

As they each settle into their own beds, Skye tries not to feel horribly outclassed when she admits that she never finished high school. There’s a slight pause in the conversation after the admission before Jemma moves right along with tangent about the merits and various meanings of the color purple, Skye’s favorite color. Finally, Skye reminds Jemma that they have an early start in the morning and they turn the lights off. The bed isn’t the most comfortable that Skye had ever slept on, but it wasn’t the worst either.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends, you and I,” is the last thing Skye hears and she mumbled in agreement as her eyes fall closed.

The atmosphere at Shield Academy was unlike anything that Skye had ever known. The campus was filled with the greatest minds in her generation, doctors and engineers, chemists and biologist, and Jemma and Fitz who were somehow a combination of all four of those, plus the most athletic, strategic, and in some cases scariest people she’s ever met. The best part is, the majority of these people are like her, in that awkward stage between adolescence and adulthood in which the world expects them to have their life figured out and they barely know how to make toast. The result is an amusing mix of seriousness and light-heartedness, at least in the freshmen on campus, which lead to what was apparently a Shield tradition: prank wars. The prank war lasted for a full week and only ended after every new cadet had been pranked at least once. Jemma and Skye received one of the lighter pranks, Fitz and his roommate Mack snuck into their door and switched Jemma’s cardigans with t-shirts that had ridiculous sayings, and Skye’s flannels and jeans with horrendous Christmas sweaters. The girls retaliated by wrapping everything the boys owned in the brightest neon pink paper they could find. The four friends laughed about the incident, both Jemma and Skye keeping the new additions to their wardrobes.

Shield Academy’s hazing ritual over with, Skye settled into her first somewhat normal routine. She’d never had much of a routine to fall into, always bouncing from house to house, orphanage to orphanage. At St. Agnes, Skye had purposely rebelled against any sort of normalization the nuns tried to impose on her, enough so that they eventually left her to her own devices. At Shield, Skye had to adapt to the routine or perish, or fail out, both of which she refused to do. Her mornings started early with mandatory cardio and endurance training which translated to running laps until she puked and then running a few more after the fact. After that was time for a quick shower and breakfast, which she normally enjoyed with Jemma before they each separated for their own classes. The classes Skye took were vastly different from what her old high school counselor said they would be before Skye had dropped out of school. Instead of studying the core subjects, Skye learned the intricacies of espionage, everything from hand-to-hand combat to interrogation methods. Her morning classes focused on the type of information to gather and how to get it, from cameras, questioning, addressing security threats and learning how to fade into the background. After lunch, the classes shifted to the physical side of things with more intensity than the daily cardio and endurance training. This was when Skye studied any and all forms of hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, and how to move swiftly and silently while keeping her heart rate and emotions under control.

The last class Skye had each day was all about the technical side of espionage work, and after three weeks at the Academy, that was the only class Skye felt like she was making any real progress in. She did well physically, according to her trainers and Bobbi, the fourth year student assisting in Skye’s combat classes, but Skye didn’t think she had made any significant progress. Her morning classes were even worse. Skye went in to each lecture feeling lost and confused, a feeling that did change by the end of the lectures no matter how many notes she took.

One evening, while eating dinner with Jemma, Fitz, and Fitz’s roommate Mack, Jemma convinced Skye to admit her struggles in class. Skye tried every trick she could to get out of it, but Jemma wouldn’t let it go. Both girls looked over at Mack, confused, when he started to laugh.

“Okay, so I’m not the only one.” Mack said with another chuckle. “It’s those acronyms man. I can barely remember what SHIELD stands for.”

“See, I knew you wouldn’t be the only one struggling.” Jemma says with a smug smile. Skye had vehemently insisted that she was probably the only one in class trying to keep up that last time Jemma had gotten Skye to talk about it. Skye maturely stuck her tongue out at Jemma in response. “Study group time?”

“Please,” Mack nodded towards Skye. “I’ll email the rest of the class, see if anyone else wants to join.”

To Skye’s great surprise and Jemma’s smug satisfaction, several of Skye and Mack’s classmates were just as much trouble and thus began a new addition to Skye’s routine, spending a few hours a week in the library with her classmates going over lecture notes and making sure they all knew what they needed to. Sometimes, Skye’s group would meet up with Jemma’s and Ftiz’s study group and a round of good-natured teasing would begin. Apparently, it was strange for so many Operations and SciTech students to get along and they were on the receiving end of more than a few strange looks. It felt strange to Skye, to be surrounded by so much light energy while in the company of people who planned to dedicate their lives to working in the shadows. Then again, Skye had never had much experience with friends before. No one wanted to be friends with the orphan girl with a bad reputation. A few weeks at the Academy and Skye started to feel like maybe she really did belong with Shield. Her grades improved along with her physical abilities, to the point that her instructor had her working with Bobbi on advanced form in daily extra training sessions and she had a real friend group for the first time in her life.

She also had Jemma.

Maybe it was a product of living in the same room with Jemma. Afterall, they were bound to either hate or love one another as all roommates do, but Skye hadn’t expected this genuine fondness for Jemma to grow. She thinks it happened in their downtime, the small amount that they had since they were both on the fast track for graduation and that seemed more and more limited as time went on. As the semester progressed, Skye found herself looking forward to their Saturdays, the one day a week when they had any substantial time to relax, which she spent with Jemma watching the greatest science fiction show of all time. Skye could admit that Doctor Who was pretty cool, but she was looking forward to watching the newer runs rather than the older ones. Mostly, Skye enjoyed sitting in either her or Jemma’s bed with a laptop perched between them and listening to Jemma the actual theories behind the science The Doctor used. It was soothing somehow, listening to Jemma talk during these times. Half soothing and half amusing as Jemma spoke so fast she tripped over her words or mashed them together so badly, Skye couldn’t understand her at all.

Still, these times with Jemma were Skye’s favorite. She didn’t have to worry about her grades or form or strength. She didn’t have to wonder if she belonged at the academy or with Shield at all. With Jemma, Skye felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Jemma finds that she immensely enjoys the routine she and Skye developed over their first eight weeks at the Academy and she is surprisingly disappointed when their first round of exams disrupts their days. It’s not necessarily a bad thing that Skye spends more time with the ever-changing roster of her study group, or working with her advanced combat instructor Bobbi (who Jemma hasn’t met but for some reason doesn't seem to be fond of) to make sure that she’s in top form for all her exams. Jemma herself increases the hours she spends in the lab with Fitz so it’s not like they could have spent that extra time together. Really, Jemma isn’t sure why not having Skye there at meal times is so upsetting to her. Fitz and Mack were in the same situation but neither of them seemed half as down as Jemma felt. In fact, Fitz seemed a bit more chipper than normal during their increased lab time.

Skye herself seemed tired and stressed but not as down as Jemma. She came into their room each night with a satisfied smile, greeting Jemma warmly before stepping on the bathroom for a quick shower. When she emerged, Skye would make her way over to Jemma’s side of the room they shared and take a seat on the edge of Jemma’s bed, careful to keep her wet hair from dripping onto Jemma’s blankets. Skye would smile down at Jemma, who usually sat at her desk reviewing notes, and tell her something that had happened that day, or a joke. Then, after making Jemma smile or laugh, Skye would ask about Jemma’s day and listen with a fond smile as her roommate began babbling about what she had been up to in the lab.

After a week of this, Jemma began to realize how different she felt around Skye. She had always felt a level of comfort around Skye, one that surprised her. She hadn’t felt so at ease with someone other than family, not even Fitz. With Fitz, there had been a period of adjustment, a time where they had to sort of feel one another out until they settled into their friendship. With Skye, it wasn’t that they clicked right away but that it simply felt different. Being around SKye made Jemma feel both calm and excited at the same time. Her aura was soothing and intoxicating all at once. Jemma enjoyed the evenings spent with Skye more than she thought she would, and finds herself looking forward to spending even more time with Skye.

Like they do every weekend, the Saturday after exams Skye and Jemma set up with some snacks and Skye’s ridiculously soft blanket to watch Doctor Who together. Skye, to sore to move much from her combat exam, groans as she opens her eyes when Jemma asks whose bed they should settle on.

“Jem, I don’t think I can move.” Skye hears Jemma’s laugh and turns her head to look at her. Jemma holds her laptop in one hand, looking at Skye with a fond sort of exasperation. “Just get over here.”

“Maybe we should just skip today,” Jemma says lightly. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“It’s tradition Jemma.” Skye rolls her eyes. “We both know you’re going to graduate early so we only have a year to enjoy this, less than that now.” Skye looks at her roommate through half-open eyes. A sliver of light catches the color of Jemma’s eyes and makes them seem sparkly. Or maybe Skye’s just really tired. “Just c’mere. We just need to lay down instead of sitting up.”

“Okay, okay, if you insist.” Jemma agrees, rolling her eyes at Skye’s vehement statement that she does, in fact, insist.

Jemma fights the blush that rises on her cheeks as she crawls into Skye’s bed after Skye scoots back towards the wall. The bed is far too small for the two of them to comfortably lay down this way, but Skye doesn’t seem to mind. They set the laptop across Skye’s legs and Jemma lays on her side with Skye’s shoulder acting as her pillow. Jemma tries to ignore the flutters in her stomach that rise suddenly and keep her normal running commentary of the show going. If that commentary is a little less energetic than normal Skye doesn’t notice, she’s far too busy snoozing the day away. It’s hard for her to not fall asleep, not only does she hurt in places she hadn’t since her first week at the Academy, she had Jemma right next to her. Jemma, who is warm and smells like earl grey and lavender and whose voice Skye had already found soothing even when she wasn’t exhausted. Once she notices that Skye had fallen back asleep, Jemma forgoes her normal commentary in favor of trying to keep herself perfectly still and calm. Skye shifts a bit in her sleep and her arm curls around Jemma’s shoulder, drawing them closer together. It’s when Jemma is trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest that the realization hits her.

She isn’t sure how or when it happened, but she can’t deny that it has happened. Jemma, without realizing it had formed a crush on Skye.

And she has absolutely no idea how to deal with it.

A few weeks after mid semester exams, Skye notices Jemma acting a little differently. It's the little things that Skye picks up on, like Jemma sitting a little further away from Skye when they eat together, or Jemma not holding eye contact with Skye for longer than a few seconds. These things don’t strike Skye as odd, at least not enough to make her question it until she notices that Jemma only acts weird when they are around their friends. When it’s just the two of them alone in their dorm, Jemma seems to have no issue being close to Skye. They continue cuddling up together on weekends to watch movies together after Skye tires of watching the same thing every week. Jemma seems much more relaxed during those times, like she can breathe a little easier. Noticing this, Skye begins to discreetly observe Jemma during their interactions with their friends. A few days of watching Jemma tense up and listening to her increasing babbles, Skye connects each instance back to one common denominator. Or, rather, one common person.

Fitz.

Jemma must have a crush on Fitz.

The realization hits Skye in the middle of dinner and she stands abruptly.

“Skye?” Jemma asks in confusion as Skye begins to gather up her tray and step away from the table.

“Sorry, I have a question for Bobbi,” the hastily made up excuse rolls of her tongue. She can’t be near Jemma right then, not with the knowledge of Jemma’s crush fresh on her mind. She isn’t so sure why her realization feels like a stab to the heart. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Skye,” Fitz says with a cheery smile and a friendly wave. Skye pauses for half a second before smiling back at him and walking off. Her three friends watch as Skye dumps her tray in the receptacle near the door and walks out.

“That was weird.” Mack comments lightly, noticing that Fitz seems wholly unaffected by Skye’s abrupt departure. Jemma, on the other hand, sports a small frown and merely picks at her meal for a moment before leaving herself. Watching Jemma leave, Mack laughs lightly.

“They had no idea.” Mack says, mostly to himself but Fitz hears as well.

“You see it too?” There’s a sad lilt to Fitz’s voice.

“Yeah,” Mack pats his roommate on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud.”

“It’s okay.” Fitz mumbles, fully aware that Mack was talking about the crush Fitz himself had on Jemma. “I think they’ll be good together, if they ever figure it out.”

Mack agreed but didn’t vocalize it. He knew Fitz was putting on a brave face, but the Scottish man was devastated Jemma didn’t return his affections.

After that incident at dinner, Skye kept to herself for the last four weeks of her first semester at the Academy. Now that she was aware of Jemma’s feelings for Fitz, it became much easier to ignore her own growing feelings for her roommate. It helped that Skye had been approved to move ahead a year in the program since she had shown such promise as a field agent and her work load nearly tripled so Skye didn’t have much time to worry about anything other than her assignments. Jemma was spending less time in the dorm as well as finals approached, which made avoiding the situation that much easier. Skye was able to use studying for her increased tests as an excuse to cut their Saturday marathon sessions short, which helped her resist the urge to bring up Jemma’s crush, or do something really stupid like kiss Jemma herself and admit her own feelings.

The end of the semester approached rapidly and before either of them realized it was passing so fast, they were spending their last Saturday in their room together before the Christmas holidays. Skye would be spending the next two and half weeks alone in their dorm as one of the few students who’d elected to stay on campus for the holidays. Jemma would be travelling back to England in the morning to spend Christmas and New Year’s with her family.

There was an air of awkwardness around them as they curled up in Skye’s bed to watch The Grinch together in honor of the Christmas season. Things hadn’t felt quite right between them since that day in the cafeteria, Skye hoped that spending some time apart would help ease the tension a bit and maybe help her get over her crush or, at the very least, get her feelings under better control.

“You excited to see your family?” Skye asks after the movie ends, while Jemma busies herself with finishing packing for her trip. Skye pretends not to notice that Jemma had slipped one of the horrible Christmas sweaters that Fitz and Mack had pranked them with at the beginning of the semester into her bag along with a few of her other cardigans.

“Yes, of course,” Jemma smiled, “though I’m not looking forward to the flights. Horrible jetlag.”

“I’ll bet.” Skye laughed. Shuffling her feet nervously, Skye pulled a medium sized wrapped box from beneath her bed and held it with both hands. She suddenly felt nervous at the thought of presenting Jemma with the present, but she refused to back down. “Hey, Jem?”

“What is it? What’s that?” Jemma asked upon turning around and spotting the box in Skye’s hands.

“I got you something. It’s not much but, well, I thought since we aren’t going to see each other until after Christmas, you can have it now.” Skye explained, hating the unsure quality to her voice. Jemma looked at Skye with soft eyes, turning to rummage in her own des for a moment before facing Skye again with a smaller box in her own hands.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jemma said and held out the box for Skye to take.

Presents exchanged, Skye gestured for Jemma to open hers first. Jemma did so and pulled out a soft, white blanket, identical to the one currently draped across the back of Skye’s desk chair on the other side of the room. Jemma smiles slightly and runs her fingers across the impossibly soft blanket.

“I noticed that you get cold easily.” Skye explains with a faint blush covering her cheeks. “And that you love to steal my blanket when we watch t.v. and stuff together. Now we’ll have one on both sides of the room.”

Jemma laughed quietly, placing the folded blanket in her travel bag before turning back Skye and pulling her into a hug. Jemma was surprised and touched that Skye had noticed such a small detail about her, and the simple gift warmed her heart. “Thank you Skye, I love it.”

“You’re welcome, Jem.” Skye tried to ignore how right it felt to hold Jemma in her arms and simply squeezed her around the waist once before letting go.

“Now you,” Jemma picked up the box containing her gift to Skye and pushed it into her hands. Skye pulled the wrapping paper off and opened the box. Inside, she found a silver chain with an embossed pendant that contained an image of a starry night sky.

“I remember what you said about the stars,” Jemma explained, taking the necklace out of the box and helping Skye put it on. “How you could see them through the window at St. Agnes and it helped you not feel so alone.”

Skye played with the pendant now hanging from her neck, remembering the night she had told Jemma about that. They had been walking from the library to the dorms with the stars shining brightly overhead. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. The story about her childhood had fallen from Skye’s lips before she could stop it and she had waited for the pitying remark life had taught her to expect. It never came. Jemma had simply agreed on the beauty of the stars before they continued on their way. Now in their dorm, Skye turned back to Jemma who was wearing a nervous smile.

“Now you can see the stars all the time.” Jemma finishes the explanation and twists her fingers together as she waits for Skye’s reaction.

Skye wants to kiss her, every part of her feels as if she’s reaching for Jemma. She’s close enough that Skye could do it, could close the few inches between them. She’d barely have to move to do it. Skye glances down at Jemma’s lips and for a second she throws caution to the wind. She starts to lean in but then, she remembers Jemma’s crush on Fitz and at the last second changes the angle she’s moving at. Her lips land on Jemma’s cheek instead of her lips and Skye tries not to drown in the crushing weight of her own disappointment. Instead, Skye wraps her arms and Jemma again and acts as if she had never intended to do anything other than hug Jemma.

“Merry Christmas, Jem.”

“Merry Christmas, Skye.”

#skimmons #bioquake #my fics #college au #shield academy au #ambs writes #meant to post this last night #but i posted this on ao3 at like 1 am #whoops #sleep? i don't know her #long post

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magsgoestocollege · 4 years ago

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Plans for 2020-2021 School Year

Long post ahead (something to help me process and decide my future)

If you’re new to this blog, hi, I’m Mags and I’m supposed to be a sophomore in college this year. Except my college experience got corona’d, obviously, so now we’re here.

A couple days ago, my school announced that first years and sophomores would be allowed back in the fall, and juniors and seniors would be allowed back in the spring if all goes well. The problem is I have no fucking clue what I want to do. I go to a small liberal arts college where the experience is heavily rooted in the people there. Our classes and houses are small, and we value the community above most things. With only half the campus back, and with the first years who have never been here before and us the sophomores who only got like 2/3s of a year on campus. We have no clue what we’re doing.

My class can’t be responsible for educating and helping an entire batch of new kids adjust to college life when we aren’t fully adjusted ourselves. Campus and house and club traditions are so important to our cschool culture and my class has no clue how to do them. That being said I am always Mom Friend(TM) and will absolutely take any and all first years under my wing if I go back to campus because I was super lonely last year and I don’t want anyone to feel that way again. (Check out #the dark side of college tag if you wan’t to read about that.) But the thing is... I don’t know if I want to go back to school this year.

Do I really want to go spend a year and thousands of dollars on a college experience I don’t really want? Do I want to be in a place that’s now structured like a prison for three-ish months only to be send home at the end to keep doing online classes? Do I want to be at a school where I cant see my friends? Do I want to be at a school without my upperclassmen friends who I care about and were so influential to my experience?

With only first-years on campus (and some sophomore friends), I’d end up essentially having to start my social life from scratch again. I don’t know if I can handle that. Even if COVID is a major bonding item for the whole campus. It comes down to would I rather take time off and hope things get better and we get a vaccine, or do I want to go and be on campus for a few months and be part of a historical event that metaphorically unites the school while literally dividing us.

Here are my options:

1) Go to school in the fall, be online for a month after Thanksgiving, and do my whole spring semester online (or maybe possibly in person if things get much better.)

2) Go to school in the fall semester and take the spring semester off.

3) Study remotely but not from home.

4) Take a full year off and come back 2021-2022 with hopefully a vaccine and a more normal college experience with the things I love.

4a) Take a year off and still live at home with my parents.

4b) Take a year off and move in with friends somewhere else.

Let’s break these down, shall we? (God I don’t want to.)

Option 1. Go to school in the fall. This means: reregistering for all my classes, being assigned to a new room in possibly a new house (latter is unlikely), and having part in-person part remote classes. Profs have the choice of being partially in person or fully online. It is suspected that most profs will go fully online because it’s easier to teach to the students who are still remote (mostly juniors and seniors). So living on-campus would basically be just that: living. I’d most likely end up taking online classes from my dorm room.

Everyone has a single so no need to worry about roommates, and they’re limiting the number of people on a floor to limit the number of people sharing a bathroom. All communal areas will be sanitized twice a day in the house, and as often as possible everywhere else. Masks and social distancing at all times, no more than two people in a dorm room at once, and COVID testing for everyone as often as twice a week. for meals, you pre-order on an app and pick up a grab n go container at a scheduled time to go eat it elsewhere. We don’t find out what classes will even be offered until after we commit.

I think I’ll be randomly assigned to a room, so that doesn’t really matter and I should stay in my house. Just first-years and sophomores means few house traditions. However, it gives me a chance to feel needed and goddamn if that’s not an addictive feeling. I’m excellent at planning social activities and fostering community. I think I could really help the first years adjust and help everyone adapt to the situation. I like the idea of this being a very uniting experience, living through history doesn’t happen every day. My dad agrees with this and thinks I should go basically just to say that I did. I agree.

But I don’t want to do something just because someone thinks I should. I need to make this choice because it’s what I want. I’m really struggling to separate doing what I want to because I want to and doing it because I think it’s what society wants me to do.

I’d get to see some of my friends, but not all of them. Plus, if people take time off I won’t see them and then when they get back I’l have to leave them. On the flip side, if people take time off and I do too, I’ll see them when we get back like no time passed. (Not really but like you get it.)

If I go, I won’t get to do theatre which is the thing I live for at school. I’d still get to do work with the theatre department, and arguably I’d be able to do a lot more work because the upperclassmen won’t be there so I’ll get to do more hands-on work. But my musical theatre org, the reason I’m still at my school, where all of my closest friends are won’t really exist. We can do cabaret or something but we can’t do a full show. I can’t direct anymore. I haven’t even had time to grieve the loss of my show. Do I take a gap year just to have the chance to do more shows? Logically speaking, the longer I wait to enter the theatre industry the more time it has to recover and the more jobs will be open.

A lot of juniors and seniors are planning on renting somewhere near campus so they might be able to slip into in person classes, but that kinda defeats the purpose because they’re not social distancing. However, this means some of my friends will be nearby during the fall. And one of my junior friends will be on campus in the fall for work. In the spring, the sophomores and first-years will take over leases in the spring.

Option 2. Not a great option. I’d have to be a J-term grad which is fine, but I’d miss out on all the spring traditions and I don’t really like that idea. I wouldn’t have to do online classes though. This is what a lot of people are doing. Some juniors and seniors are taking fall off and going in the spring.

Option 3. If I’m going to have to do online classes part of me wants to do it with other students somewhere I can enjoy myself. Maybe I’ll go live in the woods and do Zoom classes from my cottage. I don’t know. Or I could go live off campus so I can still feel like I’m near my friends but not take classes. Kind of like a bonus year but without the online courses. But this would mean having to learn how to live on my own with only a bare safety net, but I wouldn’t be alone.

Option 4. The only other option I’m very seriously considering. Taking a full gap year. I really don’t want to, but unless I want to be a mid-year grad or have to take at least some online classes, this is the best option. I’ve talked to some friends about maybe renting somewhere either near campus or elsewhere but I don’t know how I’d work out the logistics. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I’m not a great cook but I could learn. We’re only semi-seriously considering fucking off into the middle of nowhere and living my cottagecore dreams with some friends.

This would mean I would become class of 2024 instead of 2023, but I would get the chance to at least try and have a “normal” college experience on campus. The problem is, I don’t know if things will be better in a year, or two years, or five. So will I just “waste” - for lack of a better term - a year hoping we’ll have a vaccine?

I don’t know what I’ll do for a year. I can’t really work, I can’t really get an internship, I can’t travel. Do I stay at home? Do I get an apartment off-campus? Somewhere else?

At the same time, I don’t know if I want to be on a campus without my friends and the clubs and experience that I’ve loved. The other part of me wants to be part of history and worries that we just won’t get better for years and I’ll just be stuck stagnant. Another part of me still wants to be unique and a little selfish and take the gap year so I don’t have to be the guinea pig for this weird online hybrid program.

My mom always said she wished she took a gap year before starting college. Maybe I should take this chance. But I’d miss the few friends that I get to see unless I was living with them. Even if I still do online classes, I don’t want to take them from home, which my parents probably won’t like. I know they’ll support me, but it would still be cheaper to live with them and I don’t know if that’s something I want.

I just don’t know.

#college #college life #student #studyblr #uni #magsgoestocollege #student life #college student #high school #mags gets corona'd

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lycorogue · 5 years ago

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Latest Story: “I Don’t Care”

I had posted this via an AO3 share on Friday, but it hasn’t had any notes, and I usually get at least one like on my ML stuff. Maybe it’s because it’s a Gabriel and Emilie Agreste love story instead of following one of the teens. Or, maybe because people can’t find the AO3 shares? I thought they were specifically designed to hit the Tumblr algorithm, but maybe I got that backwards?

So, in case it’s because I used the AO3 share button, instead of sharing as I normally would, I’m trying again my traditional way.

Summary: Gabriel Agreste's life was safe, stable, predictable, and boring. That is, until he literally ran into a strange woman at a club; a club he didn't even want to go to. He felt instantly that this Emiile woman would forever change his life. He didn't realize how true that feeling was.

Word Count: 5406; In-Progress

Chapters: 2 out of ?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (mostly because I don’t know where I’ll be going with this.)

Ship: Emilie and Gabriel Agreste

Characters: Gabriel Agreste, Emilie Agreste (before she was an Agreste), and a bunch of OCs. Perhaps Nathalie and/or The Gorilla will make appearances at some point.

You can find the story at my normal 3 spots: on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

In this story, Gabriel is probably about 21 or 22, and Emilie is roughly 20 or 21. Also, since Adrien is 14 in the late 2010s, then he must have been born around the turn of the century. Assuming Emilie and Gabe were together for a little bit before having him, this story is taking place mid- to late-1990s. I’m picturing some time between 1997 and 99.

**Disclaimer: I never intended this story to be more than a one-shot, so I have no clue how frequently I’ll work on it; nor do I know how long it will be once done. This will be a nice palate cleansing side-project whenever I’m stuck in my main writing. So, enjoy this casual ride through Gabriel and Emilie’s romance, and see how Gabriel once was: an actually loving man.

This story actually originated as my Tumblr Exclusive one-off: Stranger in a White Dress. However, I was inspired by Ed Sheeran’s acoustic of “I Don’t Care” and decided to come back to this universe.

For those who wish to read the full story here on Tumblr

Again, “chapter 1″ can be found here

Chapter 2: Alone at a Party

Of course she wasn't there. Why would she be?

Gabriel nodded his thanks to the rented bartender, and walked his glass of whiskey to the far side of the apartment great room. The party was in full swing. A party for someone Gabriel didn't even know. He hated that he let his flatmate Sylvain talk him into coming along. He didn't belong there. He belonged at home.

Or, perhaps with her.

The memory of a slinky white dress and golden Hollywood loose curls flashed in his mind. His phone number on a bare arm. The mysterious fleeing of an astonishing woman. She was his Cinderella, but she hadn't bothered to leave him a glass slipper.

Gabriel settled onto one of the few collapsible chairs scattered about the perimeter of the room. Around him, people were dancing, and laughing, and joking with each other, and catching up on wild tales, and even making out. He didn't want any part of it. In a room stuffed with people, he was alone.

The majority of the party loomed before him. The small rented bar and accompanying bartender were in the opposite corner, past the picture windows and French doors to the balcony. Off to Gabriel's right was the main entrance, constantly flowing with party-goers. There was a chance he'd be able to sneak out unnoticed via the crowd, but if he got bogged down at all Sylvain could spot him and wrangle him back into the party. The hallway behind his left shoulder lead to the bathroom and bedrooms. Gabriel could sneak back to one of them. There had to be an emergency exit; a fire escape or something. He could use that.

Except it was probably off one of the bedrooms, which were all most likely preoccupied already by some promiscuous twenty-somethings enjoying their youth. Something Sylvain swore Gabriel should also be doing.

Gabriel took a sip of his drink. It wasn't top-shelf whiskey, but it was at least smooth with a nice flavor to it. Also, it was free; thank god for hosts who had the decency to set up open bars. Eyeing up the crowd once more, Gabriel plotted his excuse for Sylvain. Would he even notice Gabriel's retreat? He'd most likely go home with at least one person at the party, and wouldn't be bothered to check for when Gabriel made it to the flat. He could just tell Sylvain that he made it home around two. That seemed customary for one to enjoy a "night out."

Maybe he'd go to that club again instead of going home. Could he meet her there a second time? What would the odds be of that? What if she were a university student? Should he walk the campus and hope she's on one of the great lawns? Would he seem like a creep if he did?

First, he had to get out of this blasted apartment.

"Don't have much diversity in your wardrobe, huh?"

Gabriel startled. Something about the voice rang familiar; a tone that he couldn't quite shake out of his head for the past week. He turned, and standing by his right shoulder was the blonde woman he met at the club; the woman he was just thinking of, the woman he couldn't stop thinking about: Emilie.

She had her hair in a ponytail this time, and she wore a simple, Merlot-colored, off-shoulder, long-sleeve t-shirt covered by a deep-dyed, fitted jean vest. Her matching skinny jeans were tucked into black knee-high stiletto boots. A thick, black choker with a silver heart charm dangling from it wrapped around her neck. She looked casual and dressed up at the same time, the gorgeousness of someone who just "threw something on."

She held her warm smile for a few more seconds, but when Gabriel didn't respond, her face fell.

"Oh. Right. The whiskey. You probably don't remem-"

"I definitely remember you." With Gabriel's hand on his lap, he was actually about even with Emilie's hand, which was dangling temptingly by her side. His hand inched across his thigh as he debated wrapping his pinkie around her index finger. Would it be too forward for him to reach out and take her hand? She did kiss him within five minutes of them meeting. Gabriel had no clue what the protocol was for their relationship, if one could even call it that.

Emilie's smile returned, and she sat in the chair to Gabriel's left, forcing him to pivot again to keep eye contact.

"You look like you're having a good time," she teased.

Gabriel huffed. "Flatmate's idea. He's under some impression that he's in charge of my social life, and that I don't have enough of one."

"I have no clue where he could get that idea when you clearly give off such party-animal vibes." Emilie gestured at Gabriel's khakis and rust-colored cable-knit sweater over a white button-down.

"That's true." A smile started tugging at the corners of Gabriel's mouth. "Did you know, a sweater fairly similar to this very one got me ambushed by a complete stranger last Saturday?"

Emilie laughed as a pleasant blush pinked her cheeks. "What can I say? Thick sweaters are like catnip to me."

They shared a short laugh. Emilie inched closer, and crossed her left leg over her right knee. As she settled, her left toes brushed against Gabriel's shin.

"So, tell me about this flatmate of yours. He just kick you out the door like at cat at night?"

"No. He's here. Dragged me with him to this party."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Emilie popped upright, planting both feet to the floor. Gabriel instantly missed the feel of her boot against his leg. "I didn't realize he could go invisible!" She leaned around Gabriel, to where she was standing when she greeted him. "How do you do, Mr. Flatmate." She smiled at the air.

"What on earth are you doing?" Gabriel glanced past his shoulder – half expecting to actually see his flatmate standing there – before staring back at Emilie. "Of course he's not invisible, what kind of nonsense is that?"

"Well." Emilie squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest. "I thought to myself 'Gabe's flatmate brought him here, and yet I don't see him. So either he abandoned his flatmate while at this party, or he's invisible and I was rude to have ignored him this long.' I simply went with the more pleasant answer." The right side of her mouth curled up in a playful smile.

Gabriel laughed and shook his head. He took another sip of his drink before using the rocks glass to gesture towards the cleared out living room floor. A small mob of party goers were dancing, but they were too tightly packed for Gabriel to find Sylvain within the pack.

"He's in there. Somewhere."

"Did he even last ten minutes before lassoing some cutie to grind against?"

Gabriel choked on his sip of whiskey, coughing it back into his glass. He let out a few more chuckles.

"It's fine," Gabriel told her lightly. "It just means I can sneak away without him realizing I cut out early."

"Oh? You're leaving so soon? But I just re-found you."

"Well, I-"

"We can't have that." Emilie stood up and grabbed Gabriel's drink from his hand. "Whiskey again?"

Gaping, Gabriel slowly nodded. Emilie shrugged, and then downed the rest of his drink.

"What are you-?"

Emilie placed Gabriel's now-empty glass down, grabbed his hand, and tugged him out to the dance floor.

"Come on, you have to at least have some fun before you run away."

"Who said I wasn't having some fun just now?" Just like the first night they met, Emilie easily flowed through the crowd, whereas Gabriel, dragged behind her, bounced off nearly every person they passed.

"We didn't dance at the club. We should dance here." She halted to the right of the crowd. Her chest rose and fell like she was panting, even though they didn't do anything terribly strenuous.

"First of all, we didn't dance because you mysteriously disappeared back onto the dance floor without me, and without so much as a proper goodbye. Secondly, I don't dance."

"Alright. I accept your first point, but I refuse to believe the second one. Everyone dances, even if it's goofily while alone in their bedrooms."

"I do structured dances; ballroom dances."

"Ballroom?" Emilie nearly screamed with surprise. "Alright, that I definitely have to see. I doubt they'll let us put on Chopin, however. Either way, it still means that you do indeed have a sense of rhythm. So, come on, don't be shy."

She started bobbing her head and shuffling her shoulders to the synth beat of the club music playing. Adding in some snaps on the downbeats, she wiggled her hips. Raising her hands over her head, Emilie slinked around Gabriel as she danced. As her hip passed his, she bumped them. With a quick spin behind his back, she bumped his other hip with hers, then continued to dance in front of him.

Gabriel was thrown off balance with each hip bump, and not just literally. The contact from her short-circuited him each time. All he could manage was dumbly watching her dance before him. Suddenly, he once more wondered what he was doing at that party; with her. At the same time though, he didn't wish to be anywhere else.

"Well?" Emilie giggled, "Are you joining in?"

Gabriel bashfully shook his head. "I told you, I don't dance."

"Actually, quite the contrary. You just told me that you do dance. So let's see it." She then smirked and grabbed each of Gabriel's hands. "Here, I'll even help you get started." She altered pumping each of their arms over their heads, then she leaned away from him so she could wiggle their arms as if they were swinging double-dutch rope.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel laughed.

"Helping you dance to prove that you can do it. Your shoulders are still a bit stiff though." She dropped his hands and instead grabbed his shoulders to shake them to the rhythm.

He laughed harder and grabbed her hips to try to stop her. Instead, she smirked and rocked her hips more enthusiastically. Her own hands shifted from his shoulders to the sides of his chest in an attempt to get that to move as well.

"We look ridiculous." Gabriel shook his head, and stubbornly didn't move his feet.

"Exactly! That's how you know we're having fun."

"Okay, enough 'fun' though." Gabriel chuckled and pulled her against him so she had no room to keep moving. It kept him a second too long to realize what he had just done.

They stilled as they stared at each other, their arms wrapped around each other's backs. Somehow, Emilie's jade eyes seemed a richer green than Gabriel remembered. The scent of lavender enveloped him. His body burned, and their chests rose and fell in sync.

A smooth jazz song with an electronic bass started up, causing the crowd to slow down and pinch close to each other.

Very much like how Gabriel and Emilie already were.

The song was in three-quarter measure, and had a sultry flow to the notes. Gabriel eased at the familiarity of the rhythm. He pulled Emilie's left hand off his back, and placed it on his right shoulder. He then tugged gently on her right elbow to coax that hand off his back as well. Sliding his fingers down her right forearm, he took her hand in his.

"Gabe?"

He smiled and gave her a quick wink. Mentally counting the start of the next measure, he began twirling her around their little circle of the floor. He smoothly lead her in a simple waltz. There was more space between them then there was a moment before, but somehow it felt more intimate; dancing with her like that. Her eyes enlarged and sparkled as a grin grew wider and wider across her face.

"Does this mean I know how to dance the waltz as well?" Emilie teased.

"It means you have a good partner."

She bit her lip as her smile kept crawling up her face. "I do, do I?"

Gabriel blushed and averted his gaze. Emilie quickly cupped his chin in her left hand, and redirected it back towards her. Running her fingers along his jawline, she then brought her hand back to his shoulder so they could continue dancing.

"Tell me about this mysterious flatmate of yours. Why does he feel like he's your keeper, and why the need to force socialization onto you?"

"He's one of those exhausting people-persons who needs stimulation every waking moment, and he's quite confused as to how I can enjoy our little flat, and be content with just my drafting table. So he shoves me out into the world and demands I take part in it."

"Drafting table? Are you some sort of architect then?"

"Fashion designer. Aspiring, at least."

Emilie leaned further away from him, eyed up his outfit, and giggled.

"Please tell me this isn't one of your designs."

"What's wrong with it?"

Emilie grew red, and pulled against Gabriel's hold, trying to shrink away from him. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to insult you, I just figured the outfit was sort of plain, especially for a party like this. But I'm wearing a t-shirt, so I shouldn't judge what's fashionable. It was so insensitive of me, I just-"

Gabriel burst into a laugh. "I was just joking." Emilie backhanded his shoulder, and Gabriel reflexively muttered 'ow.' He laughed a bit more at her surly pout, but quickly settled. "I focus mostly on women's clothing designs, although you are probably right that I should start dressing the part a bit more myself. I might have to branch out into men's clothes as well."

Emilie's head slowly rocked side-to-side as she studied him. "You know, your blue eyes are almost a silver color."

"They are?"

"Yep. You would look really sharp in an ivory, or maybe a nice royal purple. It would really make your eyes pop."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Gabriel pressed gently on Emilie's back, directing her into a spin under his arm. He held her at arm's length, and she leaned away from him, waiting to be pulled back in.

"Why did you let him bring you here? Your flatmate. If you weren't going to enjoy yourself at this party, then why come? Why not stay at your drafting table designing the next great fashion trend?"

Gabriel tugged gently to again spin Emilie under his arm, and caught her back in the standard waltzing pose.

"He was persistent. Also, perhaps a part of me hoped I would stumble into you again."

"You didn't even know I'd be here. I bet you can't tell me who invited me to this party."

"That's true, but it had been a week, and clearly you didn't need more cheering up. So, I decided to leave our meeting up to Fate, and Fate seems to have delivered."

"So you're saying it pays to leave the flat every now and again."

"In this one instance, yes, but don't let my flatmate know, otherwise I'll never get any rest."

"I'll be sure to avoid the topic, however I still don't know who your flatmate even is."

"Good. We should keep it at that."

"Afraid he'll whisk me away?"

"More that he'd scare you away. He's a bit... intense."

"Damn extroverts."

"Precisely."

Emilie giggled as the song ended. Tucking a non-existent stray strand of hair behind her ear, she tugged on Gabriel's hand. Silently, he allowed her to lead him out onto the balcony.

"You have a thing with balconies, don't you?" Gabriel hung back by the door as Emilie continued towards the railing.

"I enjoy taking in Paris. Your flatmate is right; you need to be out in this glorious city, not trapped inside with a drafting table. How could you not be inspired by all of this?" She swung her arms wide as they overlooked a sea of dazzling lights.

"It's not much different than the view I have by my drafting table. I did make sure to place it by a window."

"But it's not just the view! It's the people! The experience that is Paris!"

"The experience? You sound like a tourist."

"That's the point!" Emilie grabbed his hands and pulled him to the railing. She then gestured out towards the grand view, pointing to a large spire poking out in the distance on their left. "The majesty of the Eiffel Tower." She then pivoted Gabriel to face to their right. "The romance of the Love Locks on Pont des Arts." She stretched in front of him, pointing to the large tower looming just past their peripheral on their right. "The breathtaking views of Paris seen from atop Montparnasse." Gesturing to her left again, she pointed in a vague direction. "The history of the Place de la Concorde."

"You don't know where the Place is, do you?"

"Eh, it's over there somewhere." She wiggled her fingers roughly straight ahead. "I'm not the best with cardinal directions. I do know it's to the east of the Eiffel Tower."

Gabriel smiled, keeping his eyes on Emilie instead of the view she was trying to show off.

"But it truly is the people of Paris that makes this city special. You have to walk among them; greet them; rub elbows with them-"

"Kiss them?"

Emilie blushed. "Uh, about that. I didn't mean-" She turned towards Gabriel, and found him pressed against her side. "-to, uh, offend." Gabriel leaned in, and her blush deepened. "I'm sorry I never called you."

"Did you not want to?"

"No. I did. I wanted to so badly."

"You don't seem the type to hold back when you want something."

"You had been drinking. I didn't know if you'd want to hear from me again. Didn't know if you would even remember me."

"I don't think I could ever forget you." He ran his hand across the railing, and rested it on top of hers.

Emilie's eyes darted to his hand, then back up to meet his intense gaze. Her hand grew hot under his. Her lips parted slightly; welcomingly. Gabriel ran his index finger across the edge of Emilie's swooped bangs, following their line to her ear. He then brushed his thumb down the side of her face, their eyes never breaking contact. His thumb continued across her chin, and stopped just below her lips. He could feel the gloss of her lipstick, and wondered if it tasted of anything. Maybe the remnants of his whiskey that she had downed before they danced.

Emilie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached out to kiss the tip of Gabriel's lingering thumb. It made his own breath catch.

"We both had some whiskey this time," Gabriel whispered.

Emilie hummed in response.

"I don't think that's why I feel drunk though," he continued.

Emilie's breath was sharp and loud. Her eyes darted open, and her hand wrapped around the nape of Gabriel's neck, pulling him hungrily down to her. Gabriel's hand quickly shifted to Emilie's back so his thumb wouldn't be in the way.

She seemed so tiny in his hands, and yet she was so fierce. He still barely knew her, but he wanted to more than anything else in the world. Every second he was with her, he craved more. He hated the world, hated being in it, but he'd gladly stand in the middle of a crowded Tokyo if it was to be with her.

He didn't understand what his appeal was to her, but he'd figure that out as well. He'd learn everything about her. He'd spend the rest of his life as her student; mastering every nuance, every scent, every movement, every tone, every kindness, every flaw; everything that made up Emilie.

They pulled apart after Gabriel had no clue how long, but he knew it was too soon. He rested his forehead against hers, his thumb running across the hand still tucked under his.

"I think you should give me your number this time, since clearly you can't be trusted to pick up a phone."

"Does that mean you'll leave your Fortress of Solitude again; join society?"

"As long as it means spending time with you."

She smiled and pulled away from him. She slinked her hand free of his, and held it palm up to him.

"In that case, I hope you have a pen on you."

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years ago

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A Twist of Fate ch.1 - Graduation

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 1415

So I've been hard at work on this new series because I'm madly in love with Beckett and I really enjoy writing him. I've tagged some people I think will be interested, let me know if you want to be added or removed!

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

Finally, the day of Penderghast graduation had arrived, and Beckett couldn’t wait to get out of there. It had been a miserable four years for him, and he wasn’t sorry to see it go. He had done everything he was supposed to. He studied hard, didn’t go to parties, was accepted into a prestigious graduate college, had no friends…and was completely miserable. His biggest regret was having no one special in his life. Not a single friend, not a single girlfriend. His parents occasionally set him up with girls they approved of, but he always found them boorish and lacking personality. As the ceremony ended and the students dispersed, Beckett noticed his parents didn’t even attend. He scowled. All that work for nothing. He didn’t even want to continue his education anymore. He wanted to just be on his own and start working. He hadn’t told anyone yet, and by anyone it was really just his family, but he had rented a two-bedroom house just outside the city. It was in a small community and his neighbors were mostly older. He figured they would just leave him in solitude. He was counting on it.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud shriek. He looked around for the noise, and once he found the source he became even more depressed than he had been. There she was, his one ray of sunshine in this world. Oriana Miller, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. No, his biggest regret wasn’t having friends…it was never speaking to her after the beginning of their freshman year. He sighed. Freshman year. She came out of nowhere. No one knew her or ever heard of her, and she had no idea how to use magic. But she was determined to learn, and he loved that about her. Unfortunately for him, they’d gotten into several arguments and she never spoke to him again. She was always surrounded by friends, she was captain of the Thief team, and she had two attunements: sun and water. She was The One, he knew, but he blew it before giving her a chance. So, he just watched her from afar the entire four years. It was too late now. He was never going to see her again.

Currently, her boyfriend, Chase, was spinning her in a circle. He was laughing, she wasn’t. Beckett often wondered about them as a couple. Chase had been on the Thief team their freshman year. By the end, they were the hottest couple at the school. The power couple. Women adored Chase. He was good looking, strong, smooth as hell with the ladies. But Beckett never had a good feeling about him. No one knew how closely he paid attention to Oriana. But he always sat near her in classes and always found himself in the quad at the same time. He noticed subtle changes in her behavior that others didn’t seem to. He’d seen random bruises pop up on her that he overheard her telling people she got from playing Thief. It could be true, but there were other things. She didn’t go out as much, her laugh didn’t always meet her eyes, she was more withdrawn. Chase had graduated a couple years before them and he had been spotted several times with other women. Oriana had one excuse after another. Beckett didn’t buy it. But it wasn’t his place to interfere. She hated him, after all.

To his relief, Oriana walked away from him. Before he realized he was even doing it, Beckett found himself walking up to her. “Hey, um, Oriana.”

She looked at him in surprise, but he didn’t miss the glassy look in her eyes. If I didn’t interrupt right now…I think she would be crying.

“Oh, hey Beckett.” She gave him a watery smile.

Beckett stood there for a minute. How did I even get here? What am I doing here?

“Do you need something?” She asked.

Beckett shifted his weight, then thrust his yearbook at her. “Will you sign my yearbook?” He blurted out. The surprised look in her face returned.

“You…want me to sign your yearbook?” She asked, clearly confused.

“Uh…yeah…” He ran a hand through his hair and blushed furiously, not looking her in the eye.

“Okay…” She said slowly. “Only if you sign mine?”

Beckett blushed again as she handed him her yearbook. He flipped it open. Of course, it’s full, what did I expect. She’s perfect.

He started writing a generic “Good Luck” before realizing she had walked over to the corner of the building with his and was seemingly writing a lot. He bit his lip. Her yearbook was full of signatures. His had none. What the hell is she doing?

Since he was already finished, he looked around the quad, having no idea what to do. So, he just stood there feeling embarrassed that no one was talking to him. A few minutes later, she was back at his side.

“Here.” She said with a smile. “Sorry, um, I took a lot of space…I hope you don’t mind, I don’t know if you were planning on getting more signatures…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“Th-thank you.” He stuttered out. She nodded at him and began to walk to away. Say something you fool! Anything!

But the words wouldn’t form, and he remained silent, watching her walk away. I guess that’s that.

Later that evening, he was standing in his new bedroom of his new home. He took a deep breath. “I’m finally on my own.” He murmured to himself. He looked around at all the boxes before his gaze fell on his yearbook. He’d been afraid to look at it. Part of him thought she might have told him off again. He would deserve it. He picked it up and walked over to his newly made bed. Flopping down, he flipped through the pages until he came across her handwriting. His breath caught. She’d written an entire page. He started reading:

Beckett,

I know we don’t know each other and I’m sorry for that. You really hurt me freshman year and I vowed never to forgive you. Somewhere along the way, though, I did. I’ve spent the past four years trying to think of how to approach you again. I could never think of anything. I would always wonder what was in your head, you were so quiet all the time. Sometimes I thought I caught a glimpse. But then it would be over, and I wondered if I saw anything at all. I would notice you near me, and I would tingle in excitement thinking you were going to come up to me. But you never did. So, Beckett. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t have the nerve myself to approach you. I want you to know I’ve always admired you and wish you nothing but the best in the future. I hope you find happiness. You never did seem happy here. Normally, this is where I would say keep in touch. But, since we never were in touch, I guess that’s impossible. So…take care of yourself. I know you’ll do great things.

Love,

Oriana

Beckett stared at the page, reading it over and over again. What?? Is it possible we could have been friends? Been more? That’s only been my biggest fantasy…maybe it didn’t have to be a fantasy after all. Great job, Beckett.

He was suddenly furious with himself and threw the book across the room. School was over, and he would never see her again.

Two days later, Beckett started work at the architecture firm he’d applied to and accepted a position for. As his new mentor, Dave, walked him around the office and introduced him to everyone, Beckett felt a strange feeling of excitement wash over him. The people seemed friendly enough, everyone seemed hard at work, and the atmosphere was more casual than he’d expected. Finally, they arrived at Beckett’s new office.

“And this is where you’ll be every day.” Dave told him with a smile.

Beckett looked around the small office and envisioned himself working there. For the first time in a long time, he was hopeful that things would turn around for him. He’s in the real world now. No more friendship cliques, no more drama, no more sitting in useless classes that he would never need. And best of all, no Oriana to keep him distracted. He smiled to himself.

Yes, things are looking up.

@blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @imaketerriblechoices @zigortega4life @confessionsofabrokegirl @divergentofhogwarts @askdana @emerald-bijou

#the elementalist fanfic #beckett harrington fanfic #the elementalist #beckett harrington #beckett x oriana #beckett x mc #playchoices #choices the elementalist #choices fanfiction

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ddaenghoney · 6 years ago

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SERIES: HALLOWEEN BETWEEN MIDNIGHTS

Chapter 12.2

On October 1st, you attend a Halloween party in an abandoned house rented by some friends. As scary as the idea of cult owners is, nothing could have prepared you and BTS(regular people) for the mayhem and terror that follows until October 31st.

This is an INTERACTIVE fic. At the end of each part, readers will be able to vote to decide what happens next. Analyze everything(except the time) carefully. Choices decide romance, friendship, and deaths; and yes, ANYONE can die.

In other words, please read at your own risk; anything goes in this story.

Start here | Previous part | Next part

Following a long sleep in two clumps squished into your small bed, you eventually got back into the groove. Scribbling some notes on the margin of a scholarly article you needed to read for the next day, you largely ignored Yoongi who stayed curled on the corner of your bed. His hands scrolled through whatever he found on his phone to entertain him, yawning a couple of times due mostly to the many tiny waffles you both consumed when you woke up around noon.

“Are you going to do anything productive?” You teased, rolling back on your chair to watch as Yoongi only pouted his lips.

“If I’m alive then my body is being productive on its own.” You ignored the growing smirk on his face due to you rolling your eyes. Tossing your pen to the tiny shelf of the desk, you went to hop your knees into the plush beside him,

“What are you looking at? Cures for being the worst-”

“Nothing, loser,” He held his phone away from your playfully grabbing hands, using one of his own to grab your wrist, “It’s a secret.” You ceased, an eyebrow rising to acknowledge the words with skepticism, “You look intimidating,” He smiled, holding your hand against his chest when you lightly pat against him, “It’s nothing illegal.”

“Next thing I know you’re involved in a bank heist.” You giggled, trying barely to tug your hand away, but he held it in place. Eyes moved contemplatively around the room, a smile growing,

“How’d you find out?” You shook your head at his dry done, and contrastingly warm smile,

“Give me my hand back, nerd.”

“If we do something, I’m getting bored.” He began, whining towards the last phrase as his head fell back against your pillow. His hand contained yours against his chest.

“I wanted to go check up on Jimin, actually.” You admitted, beginning to prod against his chest by use of your trapped fingers. A smile blossomed as he released your smaller appendage with a quick jerk from the tickling sensation. “Want to tag along?”

“I was going to go see him later actually,” Yoongi say upright, eyebrows knitting in consideration. “I was gonna go on my own though.”

“Oh, because you hate me; I get it.” You sighed dramatically, jerking when he poked his finger into a ticklish spot on your side.

“No, angel.” He chuckled, as your hands defensively moved as little shields in case of more prodding. “No, we can go together.”

Jeongguk’s arm slumped onto the wooden desk, sneakers tapping at a slow pace just as a means to stay awake. Taehyung in the chair beside him, scribbled nothing in particular against a blank leaf of his notebook. Jeongguk yawned, trying to make out what it was the image intended to be,

“Did you even sleep at all when we got back?”

“Not really,” He murmured, fixated on what seemed to be a flower maybe, “You?”

“In and out, but not longer for an hour probably.” Jeongguk watched Hoseok walk in from the far door, his hoodie slung up over his head and no doubt wishing he too was asleep at his dorm. “You need to figure out a way to sleep though, dude. You haven’t really in the past two days now.”

“Yeah, well,” His voice trailed off, avoiding the conversation, though he wished it hadn’t been Hoseok who came over to properly change the topic.

“You guys holding up okay? This is both of your last class too, right?”

“Yeah, luckily enough.” Jeongguk rolled the joint of his neck around, trying anything for blood to stimulate better and keep himself awake. Taehyung continued drawing, then turned the page to scribble down the date and the class name.

“You know,” Hoseok sighed, hands tucked deep into the pouch of his hoodie, “I didn’t cheat on her, and we really didn’t have a huge fallout. I don’t know why you’re so mad at me still.”

“You still made her really sad.” Taehyung didn’t even glance up, “And besides now that you’re done with your rebound you just want to go back to her.”

“There wasn’t a rebound, Taehyung. Did Y/N even tell you why we broke up?” Taehyung looked up at him, eyes narrowing.

“We’re all sleep-deprived,” Jeongguk intervened, a hand ghosting atop of Taehyung’s tensed shoulder. “Let’s not talk to each other when we’re so annoyed about the sleep thing, okay?”

“Is she feeling okay though?” The question went towards Jeongguk, as Hoseok disregarded the sigh Taehyung exhaled before going back to his notebook. “Jimin’s doing alright, I went by to see him earlier.”

“Yeah, she’s ditching classes today with Yoongi.” He nodded, gesturing his neck to the free space beside him, “So just taking it easy.”

“I haven’t seen Yoongi in our Music Theory lecture in over a week now.” Hoseok laid his backpack on the desk, moving around to take a seat.

“He’s thinking about dropping out.” Taehyung spoke up, relaxing back against his seat, “Not sure why though.”

“Hopefully it’s just for a semester or something. He’s really close to getting a master’s.”

Jimin grinned pulling the door to his room wider as you ushered yourself in, a bag of food in hand. Hugging onto you, Jimin spoke up excitedly,

“First Hobi and now you. IT’s great my friends love me so much.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself as he shut the door on the way in.

“Wait, if he got you food then I’m going to eat this-” You grinned as he snatched away the bag, sitting down on his bed criss-cross.

“I’ll share the fries with you?” He offered, looking up with eyes pleading to keep most of it. Shrugging, you just took the space beside him,

“No, you can eat all of it. I’m stuffed on waffles.” You repressed a chuckle as Yoongi heaved himself into the desk chair, rubbing his still full stomach with an unnecessary sigh. “You’re doing alright though?”

“Yeah, since Yoongi went to go and get you all to come rescue me.” He ate two fries at a time, not noticing the immediate frown overtaking Yoongi’s expression. You looked over at him, also confused by the words. Jimin caught onto the lack of replies, and glanced between the two of you, “Is that not what happened after you left the house?” “I thought you said you didn’t go to the party.” You frowned. Yoongi’s head shook,

“I didn’t, I mean.” He paused scanning through the dents in his memory, “I don’t think I did.”

“You texted me though.” Jimin disregarded the bag of food to the side, watching Yoongi reach into his pocket for his phone. “Up until that guy found me hiding. We were texting each other.” Yoongi further frowned, frustrated that there were a string of texts in his phone he didn’t remember typing in, but now that he stared at them he somehow felt similar emotions that would be attached to the memory. He held the phone to Jimin, not minding that you peeked over his shoulder to also take a look.

“Those ones at the bottom,” Jimin swallowed, biting his lip at the texts sent from his phone, “I didn’t type those about meeting up with you to escape… That guy must have.” He rolled up further, nodding as he found familiarity in earlier texts, “But yeah. We were talking about you coming to the party. I’m glad you took whatever way you did to escape, otherwise you could’ve ended up in the same state as me down there.”

You gripped tighter onto your leggings with the discussion. Wishing this could’ve ended last night, you sighed and looked towards Yoongi who was staring towards his shoes. Focused. “You can’t remember,” You paused at the idea. “Any of it?”

“It was traumatic-- maybe you suppressed it-”

“No,” Yoongi reached up to rub his head, lips tightening into a line as he thought longer. “I remember. Now that I’m thinking about it more. I remember running out through the front, and I saw an owl-” He glanced towards you wondering if it was the same one you kept mentioning. “But after that-- after I kept running, I don’t know what happened. I just went home, but I don’t know why.”

Stepping away from the disperse of students leaving the building, Jeongguk mumbled something about hating the homework assignment, then stretched out his arms, “Should we go get lunch or something?”

“Nah,” Taehyung shook his head gently, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “I have some stuff to go do. I’ll try and meet with you later to study, or something.” Jeongguk raised an eyebrow at the evasion, but nonetheless gave a small wave before Taehyung began walking away. Eventually exhaling from the amount of weirdness that has gone on, he decided it was probably just everyone trying to get back to normal.

“I’m kind of worried about him.” Hoseok walked from the base of the stairs, glancing to Taehyung’s back as he dipped around a building out of sight. “He was really weird yesterday.”

“How so?” Jeongguk’s neck turned towards him quickly, “I mean we all were.” He added after a second thought. Hoseok only shrugged,

“I don’t know he just seemed different after the party. Maybe I’m reading into it too much though.” He reached for his water bottle, seemingly casual about the discussion, “Well anyways, I was gonna meet up with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’re gonna look at a video of the first seance. Did you want to tag along?”

feel free to send me comments, predictions, thoughts, etc. uwu

#bts #bts imagines #bts fake texts #bts supernatural #bts suspense #bts thriller #bts horror #bts x reader #all #series halloween between midnights

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

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Bad Habit

I may have...uh...written a thing. I was listening to Bad Habit by The Kooks, and I got inspired. So, this little diddy is very loosely based off the song and music video. I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head, and this is what came of it. I know I promised some one shot requests and some work on the new fic that I’m working on, but this just...grabbed me and wouldn’t let go, ya know? I was merely a victim in the making of this. So, I hope you all enjoy ;) xx

“Yeh comin’ out with us for a drink tonight? We’re meeting Carrie at Fitz’s.”

Vivian shook her head, stuffing her frozen hands into her jacket pockets. It was Thursday night, after their last lecture of the evening. None of them had class the next day, so Thursdays were their typical party nights. Viv would usually be eager to join her mates, but she had other plans that didn’t include being in a crowded pub. Her laptop was to be her companion that night, and that was more than enough for her. Especially with the content it would be allowing her to view.

“I’m gonna have a night in. Give myself a break from last week. Christ knows my liver could use it.”

“Last weekend was rough,” Teddy agreed. “I woke up cuddled to fuckin’ Liam, vomit on me shirt, and a hand cuff on only one wrist.” He shuddered like the memory gave him the chills.

“Kinky,” Viv snickered.

“That was a good cuddle, though, wasn’t it?” Liam defended. “I was cosy.” “We just gonna ignore the vomit and handcuff I mentioned?”

“I honestly don’t even know how that happened,” Viv reflected. “I swear I was with you two until we fell asleep that night.”

“Teddy and I went out after we got you into bed,” Liam said. “Think we ran into a couple birds at a pub a few blocks over.”

“Well, it was Halloween weekend. Was one of ‘em dressed as a police woman?”

“Oh my god! That’s right!” Teddy exclaimed, smacking his palm to his forehead. “That redhead was a sexy officer. That’s definitely where the handcuffs came from.”

“And I’m pretty sure her friend was the one who got the vomit on your shirt,” Liam said with a definitive nod.

“Well, as fun as this little flashback has been, this is where I get off,” Viv announced, even though the two boys knew full well where she lived. Since they were in their second year, Viv was able to get a flat just off campus by herself. It was just a studio thing, but it served its purpose, and she was glad to be out of student housing. While she’d enjoyed having a roommate,—who was the aforementioned Carrie that she’d formed a strong friendship with—she didn’t so much enjoy not having private space and having to share a loo with twenty other girls. She had to maintain a part-time job in order to pay for her rent and food, but it was well worth it to have her own space.

“We’ll be at Fitz’s if yeh change your mind,” Teddy shouted to her as she mounted the stairs to take her two her second-level flat.

“I’m stayin’ in, I promise. I’ll see yeh this weekend.”

The two boys waved at her as a goodbye and sent their well wishes of a good night. They were still in sight when Viv finally shut her door and locked it behind her.

The flat was a warm reprieve from the autumn chill outside. She didn’t have to turn her heat on much, since her large windows allowed in enough light during the day to keep the old building warm into the evening. Well, that was when the sun was out enough. Luckily, that day had been mostly free of clouds, so Viv didn’t think twice about shucking her coat and boots and just bustling around her flat in her jumper and leggings. She got her laptop booted up as she went about making herself a cuppa and rummaging around for something to eat. She’d gone grocery shopping at the beginning of the week, but she still seemed to be a bit awful at the whole meal-making thing. She knew she had the ingredients necessary for a decent meal, she just wasn’t sure how to put it together, really. The kettle was whistling by the time she decided on some soup and a grilled cheese.

So, she made herself a brew while she waited for her chicken noodle soup to heat. She let the bag steep while she buttered some bread and sprinkled some shredded cheese. Within ten minutes, she had herself a proper meal, and she’d just sat down when a little notification popped up on her computer screen. If it had been a week earlier, she’d have been absolutely embarrassed by the sender of the message and the website that it had been sent through, but, as it was, she felt a fluttering in her tummy and stirring between her hips. She still wasn’t exactly proud of her late night escapades, but she didn’t feel the shame she once had.

The message read that the video would be live in half an hour, so Vivian finished her dinner and cuppa in peace, though the excitement was definitely building within her. She was getting wet just at the thought of what she’d be witnessing in just a few minutes, and if she wasn’t already so far gone, she’d be a little weirded out at herself. But, as it were, she did a little shimmy when there was only five minutes left until the stream started, and she busied herself with washing the dishes she’d used and pouring herself a glass of wine.

While her sofa was comfy, she decided her bed was a more comfortable place to be, so she hunkered down there, setting her laptop up beside her and opening the webpage she needed. The screen was blank, aside from the ads and recommended videos on the sides, but she knew in a few minutes the most exciting part of her week would be broadcast for her to see. The message sent out as she sat there announced that there was only one more minute until the broadcast went live. She took one last sip of her wine. The username ‘UniBoy94’ was marked as ‘online’ just before the screen flickered to life. That fluttery feeling was back as her newly favourite obsession filled her screen.

The only sound coming through the speakers were whatever music was playing in the man’s room on the other side of the screen. Vivian noticed the familiar chords of a song that she liked and had just discovered from a more local band she’d actually seen at a bar a few weeks ago. She couldn’t linger on that fact too long, though, because the man took a deep breath, straining his pecs against the soft-looking cotton of his plain grey t-shirt. She could only see him from the neck down, keeping what she could assume were perfect lips from her eyes, though she could imagine his lips were parted as he took his breath. His large hands came into view, his rings adorned on his long fingers. There was a small cross tattoo on his left hand that she was strangely fond of—probably because it was such a conflict with the lascivious acts he did so often for people to watch.

His right hand snuck up under his shirt and slowly dragged the material up his torso, first revealing the matching laurels tattooed into the dips of his V line. Viv couldn’t help but lick her lips as she watched his shirt ride up higher and higher, exposing his happy trail, belly button, large butterfly tattoo, his pecs. He let his shirt stay there, hooking the hem into his mouth, keeping his face out of view of the camera. His right hand trailed back down his body, slipping his fingers into the waistband of the boxers he was wearing. The rings caught at the elastic band as he continued to drag his hand down, exposing the light patch of hair that weirdly made Viv aroused. She’d never really admit it to anyone, but she liked mens’ body hair in it’s natural state. The man on the other side of the screen kept his pubic area trimmed neat, but he didn’t seem to completely remove any part of it, including where it connected up into his happy trail. Viv was particularly fond of the look.

His hand abandoned its adventure into his boxers as he sat upright to use both hands to draw his shirt over his head. Viv was glad to see the swallows just below each of his collar bones, as well as all the tattoos that adorned the upper part of his left arm. For the most part, his tattoos were all on that arm, except for one that was on his right forearm. The strange contrast between the two sides of him would seem a bit off to some people, but it pleased the part of Viv that couldn’t decide if she was more attracted to men with tattoos or men that were a clean-skinned. She got both in the mystery man on the other side of the screen.

Vivian’s breathing sped up as the man leaned forward to type on the computer, his message popping up on the screen once he was finished.

‘Got a request to use a vibrator. Your wish = my command.’

Viv could have sworn she felt her heart skip a beat. That was her suggestion from Tuesday night’s session. While watching him work his hand over himself, scratch his short nails down his lightly sculpted abs, and thrust his hips up into his slick hand was enough to send her over, she really wanted to see him when there was more stimulation. He was already pretty vocal as it was, grunting when he approached his orgasm and whimpering when something he did felt particularly good, but she could only imagine the noises he’d make if something was vibrating against his cock.

She wasn’t disappointed.

He peeled the red boxers from his hips, still kneeling on his bed. His cock was already hard, and it bobbed as he sat back to discard the last of the material that was covering him. He settled back into the pillows behind him and reached for something off camera, cock resting against his belly. He had the most impressive dick Viv had ever seen. She admired everything about it, from the length that nearly reached his belly button, the girth that looked like it would offer a nice stretch when he’d enter her, the glistening red tip, to the vein that ran up his length, visibly pulsing when he was particularly aroused. While she’d never encountered it in person, it was what she stacked every other dick up against, but it was hardly fair. UniBoy was the stuff of legends, and she would have thought it was photoshopped if she didn’t know for certain that these little videos of his were broadcasted live.

He came back with a vibrator in hand, already plugged in somewhere off screen. Not only was it a vibrator, but it was a wand that Viv had seen used in countless porn videos. She was always envious of the people using them, as she could hear the power of the vibrations, even through the shitty speakers of her laptop. She’d always wanted one ever since she knew what a vibrator was, but they were expensive for a vibrator, and the twenty quid one she owned did fine. Maybe when she made more than was enough to pay rent and bills, then she’d buy a fancy one.

The man wielded the toy in his right hand, clicking it on to what appeared to be the lowest setting. He very slowly touched the bulbous end of the want to the place where the shaft of his cock met his balls, and he automatically tensed, a low moan rumbling through his chest. If Viv had been wet before, she was absolutely dripping now, and he hadn’t even properly touched himself yet. She quickly set her wine on her bedside table and reached under the covers to slip herself out of her sleep shorts and panties. Her left hand lingered over her folds, gently teasing the little bud that peaked out from the center. She was sensitive already, and she could already guess that she wasn’t going to make it through this whole session before cumming.

He still only hand the wand pressed to his length, his free left hand resting at his chest, tweaking his right nipple every so often. Viv watched as he trailed the head of the device up to the tip of his penis, letting it rest against the underside as he flicked the vibrations to a higher setting. He whimpered, left hand clenching into the skin of his chest as he heaved a bit with the extra stimulation. Viv let her fingers dip between her folds, feeling how absolutely drenched she was for the first time. She’d never been so wet in her life until she’d discovered this boy’s videos. It had started as an innocent scroll through Tumblr, looking at stuff the people she followed posted. In the middle of her posts about weird science facts and cute videos of hairless cats was a very naughty two minute video of a man stroking himself. The film was in black and white, but Viv was immediately taken with the display of tattoos and the way the man’s body reacted to his own ministrations. If she hadn’t been in the library, she would have played the video then and there, but she saved it so she could come back to it later.

When she got home later that evening, she took a scroll through the blog of the person who posted the video. Everything was anonymous, and the man never posted anything of his face or where he was from or what he did outside of making videos. It was obvious he was in uni, just from his username, but outside of that, there was no personal information, not even his first name. She was taken with his videos and the other content of his blog, and she could admit to herself that she’d gotten off to his short snippets of videos more than a few times in the few days she took scouring his blog for content.

That was a few weeks ago, and somehow she had graduated to actually paying to see his live streams that he’d had advertised on his page. It wasn’t a lot to view a video—only five quid—but she could see the viewer number on the screen, and there was very nearly five thousand people watching. The man made a lot of money masturbating for random people on the internet, and she couldn’t begrudge him that. Honestly, she didn’t understand why she hadn’t thought of that as opposed to working part time at a book store. She’d be making a hell of a lot more money, that’s for sure.

So, this was how she spent her Tuesday and Thursday nights, now. She wasn’t even upset that she shelled out ten pounds a week for this, because at least she knew she was helping him attend uni and pay for the assumed flat that he lived in. Plus, she stopped having to search through thousands of porn videos when she was horny in order to just find one video that she could actually stand to watch. She had been without a boyfriend for nearly a year now, and her hand wasn’t really cutting it, so the porn was a necessary evil. Now, though, she watched the exact content she wanted to see. And, the fact that she paid to view his videos meant she was able to see all his past videos whenever she pleased. She didn’t think it got much better than that.

Besides actually having sex with him of course, but that wasn’t very likely to happen.

The man finally pulled the vibrator away from his straining cock to reveal rivulets of precum dripping down his shaft, his head completely red. He let his left hand drift down and used only his first finger and thumb to circle around the head, dragging the slickness down his length. The stroked just like that, ever so slowly for what seemed like whole minutes. It was pure torture for Viv, following the same slow pace he set for himself as she dipped her fingers into her clenching hole. His hips began slowly pushing up to meet his downward pulls, his control wavering.

As his pace began to speed up, Viv used her other hand to rub broad circles over her clit, making herself whimper. She wanted so badly to cum already, but she’d made a game with herself to not let herself cum until the man did. She loved to watch the way his whole body clenched with his release, and it was exactly what she needed to push herself over the edge.

The vibrator was still buzzing in his other hand, and Vivian’s chest constricted as she heard him turn it up two settings before bringing it to his already-sensitive head.

“Fuuu—” drew out from his lips. Viv could guess he’d thrown his head back by the way the muscles in his neck strained. She could see a bright pink flush spreading across his chest as it heaved from his laboured breath. He had to be the sexiest man she had ever seen, and she’d never had even a peek of his face.

Viv’s circles on her clit got faster and smaller as his left hand sped up, matching his strokes exactly. She plunged two fingers from her other hand inside of her, hooking them to press against that spongy spot along her front wall. She was always glad for her longer fingers, because it made piano playing more of a breeze, but she also liked their ability to reach that place inside her that had her hitching her breath when she pressed just right.

She heard more than saw him amp up the vibrator one more setting, followed by his string of, “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

He got vocal like that often, and the depth and timbre of his voice turned Viv on just as much as watching him touch himself did. She was sure it wasn’t always that deep or strained, but something about his inability to contain himself while getting himself off for a bunch of strangers absolutely ruined her.

“‘m gonna cum,” he huffed out, the snapping of his hips into his fist getting faster. He never relented on the constant vibration to his swollen head, which only made Viv move faster, chasing her own orgasm. She could feel that coil ready to snap in her belly, and she was just waiting for that last piece to just completely send her over.

Before she could become desperate for it, his abs clenched harshly and his thighs flexed as he pushed up once more to meet his hand. He never completely removed the vibrator from himself, but he just trailed it down to his balls again, letting it feed the force of his climax. She watched, captivated, as his milky cum spurt from his head, shooting up over his stomach and dribbling down over his fist, covering his rings. Hearing him groan and bite out various curses pushed Viv over, throwing her head back and letting out a moan of her own as her release washed over her.

She opened her eyes back up just in time to watch the man on screen shakily prop himself back up in order to get to his keyboard. She watched as his shaky hands struggled to type out a message, catching her own breath as the little bubble popped up on screen.

‘To the bird who suggested the vibrator: You’re my fucking queen.’

Vivian’s tummy erupted in those flutters for an entirely different reason then.

So...obviously since the fic involves an OFC, I am willing to build on this if anyone would like to see more parts. I actually do have a rough outline of a short story if people would like more. If not, it will remain this onsehot. But, if you do want more, let me know! I do so appreciate hearing from you guys.

Nikki xx

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #uni au #let me know what you think!#and let me know if you'd like to see it continued

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deadimagineblog · 7 years ago

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Trouble Comes In Threes (Triplet!AU) (2/?)

Modern!AU, College!AU. This is my first triplet AU post but I'm gonna give it my best! Fem!S/O just so you know! There will be smut NSFW, but not in this part. So lets start!

Tag List: @secretlyshycomputer

Part Two!

° You see good old Ben standing against your car, looking at his phone and typing away on it. His face seemed frustrated, but when you walked up to him, he smiled warmly. "You ready?" He asked. You looked at him with a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Kylo still not answering you?" You asked and his smile fell a small amount. You could tell Ben was really trying.

° "No he answered, but said he was busy. I told him it was just one dinner with family, but he says we are here permanently, and he'll catch us next time," Ben stated, frustrated again. He seemed to be thinking when he suddenly lit up. "Here, take a picture with me," he asked, and you leaned into him and both of you stuck your tongues out and made funny faces and he snapped a photo and turned it around so both of you could see. "That one is cute, Ben, send it to me," you stated smiling at him but he was busy sending it to his brother.

°Ben: Got a cute friend with me who wants to meet you. [Picture Attachment]

Kylo: She's just your friend, Ben?

Ben: Yeah! She really wanted to meet my brothers, Crylo. You're ruining the fun.

Kylo: ...Fine. But I can't stay out long, I've got to finish these class packets before Monday.

Ben: Oh so when its just me and Matt its no, but a cute girl there and you're all about it. >:O

Kylo: Shut up, Ben.

° "He sounds like me," you say with a laugh as he pockets his phone with a triumphant smile on his face. You both hopped into the car, you making Ben drive now because your legs were still tight from that morning. You both smiled and laughed at one another as he let the GPS led him to the spot that Matt had suggested to him on the phone the day before. When you yawned loudly, he pushed your knee with his big hand, "No none of that, I'm planning on keeping you out all night," Ben teased, squeezing your knee as you whined loudly about how he should have waited till tomorrow before dragging you out and about. As if to drown you out, he turned up the radio to be blasting as he drove, grinning at you. You shook you head and instead of whining, you merely sang with the radio obnoxiously with him. The drive wasn't too long, about 15 minutes to the other side of the small town the university was located in. When you seemed to be approaching the location, he turned the radio back to a normal level. "I think you'll like this place, Matt took me here when I came out to visit for New Years."

° "Is it pizza?" You asked hopefully and he laughed, "It has pizza. And loud music," and you smiled widely. "Ah, yes my two favorite things." He pulled the car into a parking spot, and when he turned off the car, you could tell he wasn't kidding about the loud music, hearing the bass thump through the very foundation itself. You got out of the car, running a hand through your hair, ruffling it. You wore just a simple outfit, an oversized black t-shirt with a band logo on the front of it and jean shorts because it was still pretty hot outside. You walked with him to the front door, seeing a large man standing by the door. At first you thought it was some sort of bouncer and you were momentarily worried about what kind of place this was. It wouldn't surprise you if this was a damn strip club in some joke Ben that would be funny. As you got closer though, you realized it may have been the last brother just by the way looked. He was like Matt with no facial hair covering his strong chin, and his hair was that jet black that Ben had. He was dressed in a black shirt and black jeans that fit his frame almost perfectly. His hair was longer than Ben's, full wavy locks touching his chin. You smiled at the man but full lips stayed planted in a straight expression.

° "Crylo!" Ben stated with excitement and his brother looked away from you. Kylo reached out a hand to shake his brother's hand in greeting but Ben instead pulled his brother into a tight hug as he had done with Matt and you put your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at Kylo's exasperated expression as he was squeezed tightly by his brother. When Ben released his brother from his tight hold, Kylo stepped back, rolling his eyes at brother's affection but this time he at least had the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Kylo this is my best friend Y/N, Y/N this is the little brother Kylo," he introduced as you put your hand out to shake Kylo's hand, his large hand covering yours almost completely. "Nice to meet you, Kylo. I've heard a lot about you from Ben."

° "All bad things I'm sure," Kylo stated, deep voice rumbling as he turned his gaze back down to you. You smiled widely and answered, "Mostly, yeah." This made Kylo chuckle gently as they heard a voice come up behind them.

°"Y-you actually did it, Ben. I never thought you'd pull him out of his cave," Matt's soft teasing making Kylo scowl at his brother as Matt walked up and stood beside you. Ben seemed to light up suddenly. You couldn't help but smile at his reaction to having his brothers all around him like he wanted. He opened the door and let everyone walk ahead of him before he rushed to the counter to beat Kylo there. You stayed beside Matt, who made pleasant conversation with you. He was wearing a warm colored orange polo, and dark jeans. When he tried to move forward to pay for his part of everything, you hooked your arm with his and held him back with you. He turned to look at you with confusion, cheeks dusting with pink as you smiled at him.

° "For science reasons, stay with me just for a second so I can see them interact to see how bad it is," you asked him, and he laughed but nodded. "Its almost like they try to outdo one another all the time," Matt answered and almost on cue you heard Ben laugh a hearty laugh. It almost sounded fake.

° "I dragged you out Kylo, I'll take care of it!" Ben teased about to slide his credit card to the clerk but Kylo took his card instead and handed it to the clerk. "Its gonna be four of us," Kylo stated to the clerk.

° "How many tokens, sir?" The clerk asked boredly, looking at the triplets with some interest, probably because of how attractive each was. Ben smiled at the clerk, "Lets do 40 first," before looking at Kylo with the same smile. "How about I get the tokens and skates and you can get the pizza?" Ben tried to offer as a compromise. Kylo looked at Ben before he sighed almost in irritation, putting his hand out to the clerk who handed his card back to him and Ben handed his card over with a smile, but he seemed almost exhausted now. You let go of Matt's arm with a pat and moved over to Ben and wrapped his arm into yours and grinned up at him. He seemed to perk up immediately and he moved his arm up and wrapped it around your shoulders.

° As you both walked in, you saw why Ben thought you would like this place. It was, firstly, gigantic. There was a full roller rink in the back of the place and an arcade and concession stand at the front by the door and chairs and tables where college students were gathered and eating huge pizzas. Ben, Matt, and you moved over to pick up your rented skates and Kylo moved over to order the pizza. "That wasn't so bad, Ben," Matt stated hopefully to which Ben stopped smiling for a moment before shaking his head and looking back at his brother. "No, it wasn't so bad. I told him I would cover everything though..." He trailed off but soon the person behind the counter handed his skates to him and he smiled at the employee and led him and Matt over to the table they were planning on sitting and beginning to put on their skates. You waited for your skates patiently as you felt someone stand next to you. You looked up to see Kylo standing next to you and you smiled up at him.

°"So I heard you got a job as a teaching assistant. What subject?" You asked curiously and he answered.

° "Psychology," he answered with a simple straight word. You nodded at the answer before adding, "Yeah you seem like the kind of guy that wants to get into people's heads," teasing him gently, and he didn't answer. You grabbed your skates from the employee, thanked them, and moved over to Ben and Matt, Matt standing shakily on his skates. Jesus they were even taller in skates. You began to unlace your shoes and stated gently so it was just them who could hear you. "Not much of a talker is he," to which Ben nodded with a roll of his eyes.

° "M-more of a brooding kind of guy," Matt agreed, "He's a good guy, just obsessed with work and school and isn't much for idle conversation." Ben quickly cut in, "Come on Matty, lets get out there and show these people how its done. Maybe find a girl you can skate your way into," Ben nudged Matt's shoulder and you looked at Matt's face.

° "You're disgusting and w-we should wait for Y/N," Matt said bluntly. However you waved them away, "Go ahead guys, these are boots so its gonna take a while," you assured Matt who was suddenly under the arm of Ben who was leading them to the rink. You smiled after them and kept unlacing your boots as Kylo sat down next to you and began putting on his own skates as well. There was silence for a moment, you assuming he wasn't interested in talking. You pulled off both your boots and began to lace up your skates on your feet. He spoke coolly.

° "So, you and Ben?" He asked calmly, looking at you as he tied a small bow on his skate. You laughed and shook your head, "He wishes but no. I don't want to be another notch in his bed post. We are good friends though, I adore him to pieces," you spoke honestly, "If he ever wanted to calm down, I'd probably consider it. But I'd never ask him to stop doing what he wants. I'd go so far as to say that is just part of who he is. And I love him for it. What about you, anybody in your life?"

° You watch him shake his head, his hair moving with the motion, "I had a pretty bad break up at the end of the last year, I haven't really been looking to go through that again." You nodded as you stood up from your spot, skates securely on your feet. "I feel that, man. My ex broke up with me over a text because I didn't get into the school he wanted me to get into," as he finished tying up his skates, you held out your hand to help him up which he surprisingly took and you had to brace yourself to pull the tall man up, "But hey, new year, new job, new opportunities. Maybe we can find someone worth our time." You finished, smiling at Kylo before releasing his hand and Kylo nodded, "Maybe."

° You left his side then, skating over to Matt, looking at the scene before them. Ben had found someone to talk to, of course. What else would he be doing. You smirk and roll your eyes as you skate next to Matt nonchalantly as you both look at Ben as you skate by. The girl was pretty cute, you supposed you couldn't really blame him. "W-wasn't this supposed to be like a bonding thing?" Matt's soft voice reached your ears and you turned and shrugged. "I'm only here as a referee, otherwise I'm clueless," you stated with a laugh. You figured you'll enjoy the company you had, "So what's your major, Matt?" His eyebrows furrowed together for a moment, looking genuinely surprised that you asked him something to get to know him but he recovered quickly and answered.

° "T-theoritical Physics, I also plan in minoring in Technology. What about you?" He asked curiously, giving you a smile. You answered his question and you happily continued a conversation with him. He was a nice personality, still a little timid but he seemed to warm up to people quickly. You had been chatting him up basically, being just a little bit flirty but making sure only to keep his blushing to a minimum. "So Matt, is it true that blondes really have more fun?" You asked teasingly and were happy to see you making him laugh a little bit. He was about to respond when his smile suddenly disappeared as someone rushed past him, the speed made a wind kick past both of you and right behind it was another blast of wind. Both of you watched as two out of three Solos were racing around the rink. Ben had a look of pure determination, probably because he was losing, meanwhile Kylo was rolling up his sleeves as he speed skated backwards around the ring. You could feel Matt get nervous next to you, but he also almost hissed.

° "S-showboats just like our Grandfather always was," Matt stated bitterly as you both watched the two dark haired men speed around the rink. But suddenly Ben had grin as he suddenly slid towards Kylo, since he was skating backwards he couldn't keep up the speed he had at first so Ben zoomed past him pretending to pass the finish line, arms up in the air as he past you and Matt once again, the most smug look on his strong features. Matt rolled his eyes but suddenly his side was empty as you skated up to Ben to be next to him. "Benny boy, play nice," you stated with a smirk and he smirked as well as he turned around to skate backwards and look at you. "He started it, I swear," Ben stated, lifting his hand up to show he meant it.

° "Sure he did," you stated, faking that you didn't believe him. "Whatever, kid." You both stuck your tongues out at each other before he leaned forward pretending to try and put his tongue on yours before he suddenly had to catch you. You almost fell because you were trying to avoid his tongue but he caught you in his arms before you both started laughing. You skated together. Ben occasionally looking over to his brothers who were talking to each other and staring at the two of you.

° You finally sit down when your pizza is brought out. And the thing really is freaking huge, with these 3 giants and yourself, you guys barely finish the half of the damn thing. After eating, you, Ben, and Matt take off your skates, but don't bother putting on your shoes because you all knew you'd be going back on the rink. Kylo however put his shoes on. He did say he didn't plan on staying long, maybe he planned on leaving soon. Ben pulled you and Matt over to the arcade as you both held and enormous amount of tokens in your pockets. Matt immediately went for the old school games, Pac-Man, Space Invaders, Cinepede, the classics. Meanwhile Ben had moved over to the more physical ones, basketball, whack-a-mole, things like this. Lastly, you had sat down at a Jurassic Park game, the one where you sat down in something that looked like the Jeep from the movie and there were spots for two people, and two plastic guns, one red one blue. You set your tokens on the plastic "dashboard" and started filling in coin after coin. You pressed the start button and began.

° These games were something you just couldn't resist. Plus it had freaking dinosaurs. Who could honestly resist dinosaurs? You began, and it started out easy enough. But soon you were overwhelmed. "Ben!" You called to the side, filling in more coins and pressing the start button so you didn't lose your place. "Busy!" Ben called over to you as he shot basketballs into a moving hoop. "Matt Matt Matt!" you called over to the other side but you got no answer. You dared to look over to see Matt with his eyes two inches away from the screen and was obviously deep in concentration. You weren't sure if Kylo came over to the arcade at all but you were gonna try anyway. "Kyl--" Knock knock, you looked over to see a man move to sit next to you. You chanced to look over and saw Kylo himself, "--Oh. Quick quick, start button!" but he was already two steps ahead of you. He grabbed the red gun and slammed his fist on the start button. You immediately felt the stress of the game lift off your shoulders as Kylo began to help out. You both cleared the level no problem but soon the next one began and you two stayed at the ready. It was... Intense. Both of you were so focused, neither really noticed that Ben and Matt had moved to be next to the game, peeking over your shoulders to see the game. You didn't really notice until when you both finished the next level and Ben cheered for you loudly and you almost jumped out of your skin. You laugh at your reaction as does he but when you suddenly become serious again and gun points at the screen, he laughs even louder.

° You were getting close to the end, you and Kylo had blasted through most of the last level, but now here you both were, face to face with the mighty, the powerful, god of dinosaur world, the T-Rex. Ben had his hand on your shoulder while Matt cheered on Kylo with quiet cheers. "Left Left Left!" You stated loudly and Kylo pointed his gun and shot. That was it. The machine rattled and roared as the T-Rex fell and the credits began to roll. Ben and Matt cheered loudly as you and Kylo kept watching the screen. As the high scores came up, your score traveled up the screen and a small tune played through the speakers as you and Kylo took the lead! "Oh wait quick quick!" You pulled out your phone as Kylo put your first initial, and "&" symbol, and then a K to finish it off. You pulled the man close to you by his shoulder and smiled brightly. Kylo didn't really give a full smile, but a little half one as you snapped the photo. You pulled it back and showed it to him.

° "Very nice, you look cute," Kylo spoke simply before taking your phone from your fingers delicately and you watched over his shoulder as you sent the photo to what you could assume was his phone number before he handed your phone back. You usually would have said atleast something to the fact that he just grabbed your phone without asking, but you were honestly a little confused. He just called you cute, right? Or at least, that you looked cute? Weird. You showed the picture to Ben and he said that you did look pretty cute but that was pretty much par for Ben. "Send it to me so I can send it to mom!" Ben said and you looked a little offended.

° "Excuse me, Ben, I can send it to Miss Organa my damn self. She gave me her number before we left!" You teased, but you still sent it to him anyway. Ben had a thing for pictures. Capturing a moment to have forever. You climbed out of the jeep, Kylo doing the same before he turned to his brothers and pulled them over. You assumed it was to say goodbye for the night. You waved goodbye to Kylo as he turned to leave and he gave a small goodbye as well. Matt smiled and explained he better get heading out too, before asking if he could have half of the half of pizza you had left. You grabbed him a box and packed it for him while he put on his shoes. "Oh, Matt let me get your number, we can go get coffee or something soon," you stated with a smile as you saw that pink blush spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose once again.

°"O-okay," he stated, smiling back and he said his number to you before waving goodbye to you and Ben and heading out with his pizza in tow. As soon as he walked out the door, Ben leaned over and rested his head on top of yours, sighing softly.

° "That went pretty well," you stated gently, raising your hand and scratching his head before running fingers through his hair gently before feeling him nod. "They like you. Kylo just told me not to scare you away," he laughed, standing up straight and moving over to your table. "Want to go back on the rink one more time before we go?" He asked and smiled as you nodded happily. Both of you pulled on your skates and headed back to the rink. You two had your pinky fingers linked as you skated around the rink, talking warmly before Ben came in for a hug. These weren't exactly a rare occurrence, Ben was a touchy-feely kind of guy and loved physical contact. But sometimes when he went in for those long hugs, those that meant something to him. And after getting a few of them by this time in your friendship, you took them seriously and always hugged him tightly back. He rested his face into your hair, just purely relaxed. "Thank you for coming tonight, Y/N. I really appreciate it." He stated sincerely. You smiled against him and nodded happily warm in his embrace.

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