#this was done on a trackpad and i hated every second of it

[abstrekt]

Baby Spock (as Surak) and I-Chaya (as a vampire bat) wishing you a very logical Halloween! Yes Amanda forced them to pose for a holo.

This was my piece for @startrekthespooktacular which is out now!!!! Please check out all of the AMAZING art and fanfiction that went into this zine!!!!

[thewayshedreamed]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I was wondering if you could write a combination of the prompts 2 (“c’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”) and 21 ( “i’m bored. come over and sit on my dick.”) from the smutty prompts for Nessian. Thank you and congrats again <3

Thank you for the prompt and the love, nonnie! I'm not going to lie, I shamelessly abandoned my word count limit for this one. I have no excuse other than I got carried away.

Hope you enjoy! This one's for you, lovely! (and everyone who enjoys a bit of Nessian smut. Except those of you in the gc. Y'all know who you are and why).

—

Nesta hated when Cassian's work ran late, especially when she hadn't seen him in days. She was temporarily placated by their active text exchange that afternoon, complete with work grumblings, friend gossip, and inside jokes. Cassian was her best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one deliciously built package.

His millionth text of the day interrupted her thoughts.

I'm bored.

I'm sorry, she replied. Me too. And I miss you.

Cassian: Miss you too, Sweetheart.

Nesta considered that. He must not have gathered her true meaning given the tone of his reply, but she supposed it was difficult to convey via text. What she meant was that she missed his callouses scraping over her skin, the heat of his kisses against her neck, his weight cradled between her thighs. They were several days overdue.

She typed a quick response to drive her point home. No, babe. I miss you, miss you.

The ellipsis pulsed, disappeared, and pulsed again. Nesta bit her lip to contain her smile. It seemed her boyfriend was on the same page.

Oh? he sent back. Then, almost immediately after, Come over and sit on my dick.

Nesta barked a laugh. Cassian wasn't shy in any capacity, especially in matters of sex, but his text was blunt even by his standards. She would be lying if she claimed it didn't make her core clench in anticipation.

I can't believe that worked, she admitted. Give me 20 minutes.

—

Cassian's door was unlocked when she arrived. Nesta was usually grateful that he worked from home considering the flexibility it offered, but she didn't particularly love how it interfered with her plans for the evening. He was seated at the dining table with his laptop in front of him, sitting on what sounded like a conference call and finishing up whatever data entry he needed to finish.

None of it was conducive to their arrangement.

He mouthed "sorry" over the screen of his computer, shooting her a wink for good measure. Nesta had already considered a number of possibilities on her way over, and the small gesture alone had her skin erupting in goose flesh. She tugged at the hem of her skirt and struggled to get situated on the couch nearby. Comfort seemed a distant goal when every movement she made riled her more.

A true test of her self-control came at hearing Cassian sign off of his call for the day, especially when every muscle in her body was poised to spring off the couch on a moment's notice. Rather than orient directly to her, his focus remained on the screen of his computer. His brows were furrowed in concentration, negating any possibility that he meant to antagonize her.

"You know," she challenged, "I didn't come over here to watch you work the whole time."

He glanced at her through his side eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? What did you come over for, Sweetheart?"

Nesta's cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders. "You'll have to refer back to our texts. It's not my job to remember your promises."

Cassian huffed a laugh and groaned as he leaned back in his chair. With his fingers laced, he reached his hands toward the ceiling in a long stretch. Nesta could see the impressive length tightening his pants, and her mouth went dry. At least she wasn't the only one affected.

He caught her in admiration and shot her a lazy smile. Her eyes trailed the handsome edges of his face, his broad chest.

"C'mere," he rasped. "You can sit on my lap until I'm done working."

His hand reached down to adjust himself, and he hissed against the contact. Nesta felt less self-conscious about her growing need to cross her legs to relieve some of the tension. Her voice was low, sultry.

"I didn't come over to sit on your lap either, Cassian."

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. "Then get over here and do as I told you."

A shiver ran down her spine. She sat transfixed by the movement of his hand and how he finally freed himself from his pants. Every part of her burned to touch him. The command in his voice had been her undoing; all good sense, gone. Her legs shook through her journey to close the space between them, but he didn't seem to notice.

Cassian groaned his approval as she straddled his lap, his large hand moving in a long stroke up and down his length. Nesta's position allowed him full access beneath her skirt, and he cursed under his breath when he realized she wore nothing underneath. Their lips crashed together, Nesta's hands poised against his shoulders. Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist to lift her over his cock and allowed gravity alone to ease her down until her hips sat flush against his.

Nesta moaned, desperate for friction. Her hips canted automatically until Cassian's rough voice and strong hands stopped her in her tracks.

He tutted his disapproval. "I never said you could move, Sweetheart. I still have work to finish."

"Cass," she whined, unashamed of her arousal. "Please."

"I'll take care of you, I promise." He pressed a kiss behind her ear, reaching behind her to resume his work. "For now, keep things warm for me, baby."

Nesta whimpered and gripped his shoulders. How could he ask that of her? Another couple of minutes, and her hips would be rolling whether she offered them permission or not. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the keys working behind her.

But then she was thinking about his deft fingers, how they wrought pleasure from her in immeasurable ways. How his hands always knew where she needed firm pressure of a delicate, teasing touch to—

"Nesta," Cassian warned, his voice hoarse. "What did I tell you about moving?"

He nipped her ear in warning. She forced her hips to settle, silently cursing them for their betrayal. The last thing she needed was Cassian holding out on her any longer.

"Sorry," she gritted out, "I'm— I don't know." Her mind was all over the place, reduced to some primitive by the need between her legs.

He made no moves to remove her from his cock, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers resumed their work, but they would no longer serve to distract her in the process. She needed to think of something less promising, but she came up empty any time she tried.

Cassian added insult to injury, running his nose up and down the length of her neck. Nesta opened up for him, careful not to move her lower body in the process for fear that he would pull away. His lips left a path of soft kisses where his nose had left fire in its wake, and Nesta was a single kiss away from snapping altogether.

"Fuck," he rasped. Her hold tightened on him at the sound of his voice. There wasn't a thing about the man that didn't affect her. "Nesta, you're—" He paused to gather his wits, buried his forehead against her neck. "You're dripping."

To her horror, she realized he was right. Her arousal coated her inner thighs and the skin just above where their bodies came together. She was making an all out mess in her boyfriend's lap, and he had yet to move.

Nesta moaned, tilting her head back to encourage his affections against her neck. "Please hurry," she breathed. "I've done what you asked. Please."

Cassian growled against her skin. How he always reduced her to a begging, pleading mess was beyond her. There wasn't another aspect of her life where she resorted to it, but for him, she would do it shamelessly.

He placed another path of kisses, rougher this time, down the side of her neck and over her collarbones. When he refocused his attention on his work, Nesta let her forehead hit his broad shoulder. Her fingers were white-knuckled against him as she fought her most base urges.

Blessedly, she heard some clicking of the trackpad behind her. In another number of seconds, Cassian stood to lay her roughly atop the table. His hands explored her body, gripping her possessively in all the right places until she was a writhing mess, his order be damned.

"So eager." He moved to grip her wrists in his hand, pinning them over her head. The other gripped her thigh at his side. "Go on, then. Fuck me, Nesta."

She didn't need to be told twice. Her hips rolled against him, taking him deeper than before. Her feet pressed into the strong muscles of his ass in encouragement, but he remained still while he watched their bodies come together. Nesta couldn't think beyond his name rolling from her lips and how badly she needed more, more, more. Before she could say as much, Cassian's restraint snapped.

He widened his stance, spreading her legs farther apart and changing their angle. His hand left her thigh in favor of pressing a supportive arch to the small of her back, his hips snapping roughly into hers.

They dissolved into a symphony of muttered curses and groans. Nesta cried out her pleasure when her release barreled through her, earning a string of praise from Cassian.

"That's it. You're so tight around my cock, Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath leaving him in huffs with each punishing thrust. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she fought to keep her heavy lids open for him. His brow was drawn together in pleasure, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Fighting his release was wearing on him, and Nesta could tell he wouldn't be far behind her.

"Gods," he ground out. "You were so good for me, baby. You know that?"

His thrusts came faster, and Nesta cried out. Another world-shattering orgasm was close, so close, when she hadn't thought it possible so soon. Cassian noticed when her pleasure ratcheted up once more, and a look of determination crossed his handsome face. He slid his hand from her back, and pressed it to her lower abdomen, using his thumb to draw broad circles around her clit.

Her hands fought against his grip, but to no avail. She wanted to touch him, to drag her hands all over his body and run them through his hair. More than that, she thought she would need to secure her body against his to ride out another wave of pleasure like the one before.

"Pleasedon'tstop," she muttered, her eyes screwed shut.

"I won't," he promised, his hips pressing into hers and making her dizzy. "Not until that pretty pussy comes for me again."

It took only seconds for Cassian to get his wish. Nesta's cries echoed off the walls of his small apartment, her body shaking through the aftershocks of her release. His hips slammed home when he met his own, his large frame leaning over her body as he spilled inside her.

Once he released her hands, Nesta moved them to his shoulders to draw idle patterns over his skin. Cassian lifted his head to press a kiss to her mouth before separating them and standing to right their clothes. They surveyed the area, how his work was scattered about and his cup of water lay spilled over the floor nearby, and broke out into laughter.

"What am I going to do with you?" he teased, pulling her against his chest in a hug.

Nesta hummed, her first thought sliding past her lips. "Love me."

Cassian placed a kiss to her hair. "Yeah," he murmured. "I will."

[robinsarm]

After the Bridge has Burned (part 6)

Warnings: Some language

Words: ~3.6k

POV: Élodie

“Don’t leave,” Élodie whispered as she rushed to hide her screen with her body. “I’ll mute you and minimize the screen, but please, just stay on the line. You don’t need to talk to him but I at least want you to see I’m not lying.” 

“I never assumed you were,” Ace said quietly. 

Without a solid answer, Élodie anxiously held her finger over the trackpad, the mouse ready to mute him. After a few seconds, Ace nodded and Élodie had him muted and the video minimized down to the taskbar within a second. She turned around and walked back out into the living room as Felix began his descent down the stairs. He’d dressed in black slacks and an untucked white dress shirt. His hair sat slicked back, whether still wet or with gel Élodie couldn’t tell. 

“I hadn’t heard from you in a while. I thought you’d left,” Felix said, sounding worried. 

“Of course I haven’t left. I've just been doing some digging down here,” Élodie reassured him with a smile. 

“Oh?” Felix said, exhaustion plaguing his face. If it weren’t for that, Élodie would have assumed he’d be happier to hear that news. 

“I got a hold of Claudette and she’s asking around for me.”

Did Élodie feel bad for keeping the truth from Felix? Somewhat, but he’d done the same to her. She only caught him in his lie because of Claudette’s Instagram post not matching what Felix had told her about where Ace was a day before. If she could help it, Élodie would make sure Felix didn’t find out about this call until well after he and Ace talked—if she could get them that far, that was.

“That’s good,” Felix said while stifling a yawn. The last few steps of the staircase Felix really seemed to focus on, like he was trying his best not to miss the large steps. 

“Mon chéri,” Élodie spoke loudly to get Felix’s attention. “Are you okay?”

Felix nodded while crossing beside her, heading towards the kitchen. “Just tired. I’m making coffee, do you want any?” 

Élodie checked the time on her phone: 2:53 p.m.

“This late? Have you even eaten today?” she asked. 

Felix stopped in the archway and stared off down the main hallway. Once he squinted, Élodie knew the answer. 

“You can’t live off coffee, Felix,” Élodie gently scolded. 

“I woke up late. It’s fine,” Felix dismissed her before slipping into the kitchen.

There wasn’t much Élodie hated about Felix, but his lack of concern at taking care of himself definitely got on her nerves from time to time; and this was one of those times. 

Marching after Felix, who already had the cabinet of assorted teas and coffees in the back right corner of the kitchen open, Élodie approached him, reached past his side, unplugged the coffee maker then grabbed the pot itself. 

“Élodie—”

“No, you are not having coffee for every meal. Sit down, I’ll make you something,” Élodie insisted and tossed the pot into the sink water. Élodie immediately reached for a pan in a cabinet next to the stove. She wasn’t a masterful chef but she could at least fry up some eggs without burning the house down. As she made her way towards the fridge, Felix stiffly moved out of her way, pressing his back against the counter. In response, Élodie grabbed the front of his shirt and ripped him towards one of the stools that made up one side of the island. 

“Sit,” she demanded and let him go. 

“Élodie, I’m really not hungry,” Felix said while fixing his shirt then pulled out a stool. 

“And I really don’t believe you,” Élodie countered. “And don’t feel bad because I need to eat as well. Any progress in the office?” 

Felix groaned and let his head fall into one of his hands.

“I’ve told you, you need to organize that office,” Élodie commented while pulling out a carton of eggs, a block of cheese and hot sauce. 

“Well aware. Thank you, Élodie.”

“You’re welcome. Scrambled? Over-easy? Omelet?”

“None.”

“Scrambled it is.”

Élodie heard Felix groan quietly again which made her smile a little. She eyed her laptop for a moment before lighting the stove. From what she could tell, her camera was pointed primarily towards Felix. She’d be in the shot every time she used the stove, but that’d be it. 

“Can I see your phone?” Felix suddenly asked, his voice low with uncertainty. With egg whites coating multiple fingers, Élodie simply positioned her hip to point out the fact it was in her back pocket. She felt the phone leave her a second later followed by a stool screech against the tile. 

“You know my code?” Élodie asked. 

“Your grandmother’s birthday, right?” 

Élodie nodded as she tossed a second egg shell into the garbage. She trusted Felix with her phone; not like there was anything worth hiding on it. Anything like that was work related and behind two passwords he for sure didn’t know. Everything else was his if he wanted to see it. What he currently wanted to see though Élodie didn’t know. 

The only sound made for the next few minutes was the popping of eggs and clanking of utensils. All the while, Élodie couldn’t help but wonder about Ace. She worried that he found this scene so boring or just didn’t want to see Felix at all. Élodie had double checked the camera angle. Ace was seeing Felix for sure but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was even still there. 

“So…here we are!” 

Claudette’s voice suddenly blaring through the kitchen made Élodie jump and almost drop the pan in her hand. She turned to Felix who was now turning the volume down. He’d leaned over the counter, chin resting in the crook of his arm while the other held the phone out in front of him. 

“I got not only the redhead to join us on a hike,” Claudette spoke, out of breath. 

Élodie plated Felix’s eggs and walked over to him while the botanist continued to commentate. Felix had gone onto her Instagram and was looking at her most recent post from this morning. The video panned from Claudette, to Meg who looked ecstatic, back to Jeff and Haddie who both looked miserable, and then to Ace who was not at all dressed for a mountain side hike.

“But I managed to snag the old man as well.”

In the video, Ace snapped his attention to Claudette at the comment. “Old man?” he protested. “You don’t know how old I am.”

“Old enough to have silver hair,” Meg said.

“I’m Italian!” 

Just as Ace made that comment, the ground he’d stepped on slid out from underneath him like a rug had just been pulled. In his over exaggerated fall, Ace managed to catch hold of Jeff’s sleeve who merely helped him to the floor, not going down with Ace. The girls busted out into loud, full-body laughter, a familiar snort coming from Meg a few times while Claudette struggled to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” Claudette turned asking as the video ended. Élodie read the caption beneath; “Don’t worry, he didn’t fracture any old bones…just his ego ;)”

Élodie found the post humorous, smiling along with the girls at Ace’s unfortunate predicament. However, when she checked on Felix, the man was experiencing anything but joy. Eyes puffy and red, tears welling on his eyelids. Even so, Felix still managed to scroll down on Claudette’s page landing on the picture Élodie had shown him earlier that morning. The tears finally poured over upon seeing those smiling faces again. 

“Felix,” Élodie whispered and wrapped her arms around his torso, cheek resting on his shoulder. He shook a little as he tried desperately to control his sobs. Felix tossed the phone onto the counter and covered face with his hands. Élodie rubbed his chest slowly in hopes of comforting him.

“Ich vermisse ihn,” Felix sobbed.

“I know,” Élodie said and turned her head to face her laptop. In the small chance Élodie believed that Ace was still watching, she wanted him to realize that she wasn’t lying. This wasn’t some ploy to get him to admit the whole thing should just be left in the past. Felix was a wreck to the point that even she struggled to help him. The man desperately wanted to make up for the past two years in any way he could; but he couldn’t. After so much time, Felix still believed he had no way of contacting Ace.

“Wie könnte ich ihm das antun?” 

“It was two years ago, Felix. You had a lot of people expecting things from you when you got back,” Élodie tried to console. 

“That’s not an excuse,” Felix countered, sitting up and subsequently pushing Élodie off. “I didn’t give a shit about those people, but I still chose them over the man I actually cared about.”

Élodie stepped back, placing her knuckles on her hip. “What do you want me to say, Felix?”

“The truth!” Felix shouted. “That I’m a fucking coward and can’t recognize a single good thing that enters my life.”

“You’re not a coward, Felix,” Élodie said, keeping her voice calm. 

“How am I not?” Felix asked as he stood up. “I loved that man and I threw him away because I was too scared to tell two people how I really felt. Two, Élodie!”

She knew who Felix was referring to. That was one of the worries Felix had before all of them ever escaped. The question posed being, “If we escape, how am I going to tell my mother and my girlfriend about Ace?” Élodie always saw it as a no-brainer; just tell them. Élodie knew Ursula well enough to know that she wouldn’t care about Felix’s choice of partner, just as long as they made him happy. The girlfriend Élodie couldn’t care less about, she’d never liked her.  

“I’m fucking pathetic,” Felix whispered, voice cracking at the end as fresh tears streamed down his face. Élodie embraced him again, Felix grabbing onto her shirt like she was his only lifeline. 

So many hugs. Élodie had given Felix so many hugs in the past year and it never got any easier to do so. Every time Felix dwindled to a mess of depression and tears, Élodie struggled to keep her own emotions in check. She hated seeing him like this because it reminded her of herself those first few years after her parents disappeared. She hated that she couldn’t keep Felix from feeling the same way she had. 

“It’ll be okay, Felix,” Élodie struggled to say in a calm voice. She rubbed circles into his back as he slowly managed his breathing. “We’ll find him.”

The pair held each other for a long time. Long hugs like these never grew awkward between the two of them. If one of them needed a hug, that person was going to be the one to break it. The other just knew it wasn’t about them. If their friend needed a hug for an hour, then they were going to get an hour-long hug. For Felix, he only needed one for another minute before he let Élodie go. Wiping his dried tears away, he looked at the food Élodie had prepared earlier. 

“Sorry I couldn’t keep it together long enough to eat,” he commented. 

“It’s okay. Do you want me to reheat it or make you a new plate?” 

Felix shook his head as he walked past her to a utensil drawer. He pulled out a fork, grabbed his plate, and headed for the archway leading out of the kitchen. “I’m just going to take this to the office. Thank you, Élodie.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Élodie said as he walked out. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from Claudette.”

“Thank you,” Felix said again, albeit softly. She could tell he had no energy in him anymore. 

As soon as Élodie could no longer hear Felix’s footsteps she rushed back to her computer. The screen had gone dim from inactivity. Not only that but as she reopened the video call, Instagram stated that she and Ace had been disconnected. 

“Shit.”

Élodie slammed the laptop closed in a huff. She had no way of knowing how long Ace had been watching. Had he even cared to stay or did he watch all he could before just giving up? Walking back to the stove, she retrieved her phone from the island on the way over. Élodie checked her lock screen out of pure habit and found multiple new direct messages from Instagram, all of them from Claudette. Élodie quickly opened the app and tapped her messages. 

“Hey! Ace said the laptop just died suddenly. Forget to mention it does that if it’s not on its charger :P”

“Ace did want me to give you his number though. He said to have you call him as soon as you can.”

Élodie’s heart skipped a beat. Yes! That’s all she needed. She nearly bolted up the stairs when she saw the ten digit number in the DM. Going against that thought though, Élodie wanted to make sure Ace was okay talking to Felix first. Immediately handing him over to Felix may ruin all the progress she’d (hopefully) made. 

Thanking Claudette, Élodie switched apps and dialed Ace’s number; he picked up a second after the first ring. 

“Élodie?” Ace’s familiar voice questioned through the speaker. 

“Ace! What happened?” Élodie asked, immediately covering her mouth once she realized that she’d blurted that out. 

“Claudette’s computer is older than me and can’t hold a charge.”

Élodie’s smile faded when her next question entered her mind. “How much did you see?”

“My German’s a little rusty but I think he’d just said ‘How could I have done that’.”

“Yeah. That’s basically right,” Élodie confirmed and leaned back against the counter. “For his sake, I’m kind of glad you didn’t hear what he’d said after.”

“I was going to ask anyway. What happened?” Ace asked, sounding monotone. 

Élodie held in a deep breath, trying to quell her emotions while remembering exactly what Felix said. “That he was a coward and ‘fucking pathetic’.” Élodie made air quotes with one hand around that last statement. “He regrets having chosen people he didn’t care for over you.”

Ace remained quiet for a time, Élodie only hearing his breathing and background noise from the other people in the house with him. It was so lively there compared to Felix’s family home—she envied it. 

“That was basically it,” Élodie continued. “He just needed a hug for a while after that.”

Ace hummed in acknowledgment, putting Élodie a little more on edge from the silence that followed. 

“You asked me to call you, Ace. Is that all you wanted to know?” Élodie asked, hoping she was wrong. 

“No, I…” Ace sighed. “I do want to say something.” 

Élodie waited patiently, studying the tiles of Felix’s kitchen while Ace found the words he needed. Such an ironic thing to consider, Ace needing to find words; the man could never stop talking back in the Entity’s realm. That’s one of the reasons Élodie thought Ace was perfect for Felix, he talked for the both of them. She knew Felix appreciated that. 

“Élodie, that was really hard for me to watch,” Ace finally said, his voice lower than before. 

She nodded slowly, assuming she knew where this was going but decided to let Ace take the lead of the conversation anyway. 

“It is really hard for me to watch him cry, Élodie. Over me! I’ve always been a text away, he should have known that.”

For a moment, Élodie couldn’t keep enough air in her lungs. Her heart kicked up a gear and raced like she’d started a marathon. 

“What? What do you mean?” Élodie managed to say. 

“Élodie—” Ace sighed. “Yeah, I was a little mad back then—still kind of am when I have to bring it up.”

Élodie cringed hearing that. Of course she’d managed to piss off the happiest man she knew.

“But…I always kind of hoped he’d call or something. I’ve never been able to forget about him.”

“Ace, if you still feel that way, why didn’t you ever reach out?”  

A pause then some shuffling snaked through the speaker. “Because of that text.”

Élodie flinched; she knew that was the answer that was coming.

“Every time I opened my phone, even considering texting him, that message always popped back into my mind and I just...couldn't.”

Élodie nodded slowly again. Ace was right of course, she just wished he wasn’t.

“I don’t love his choices, Élodie, but I never stopped thinking about him. Wondering how he was doing or if he was even thinking about me.”

“Of course he was, Ace,” Élodie insisted.

Ace hummed, but remained silent for a time. In those moments, a question to ask Ace popped into Élodie’s head. She needed to know for sure if things were still too sensitive, if the wound was still too fresh. 

“It almost sounds like you wouldn’t mind seeing him again,” Élodie posed, mentally crossing her fingers for a response she could work with.

“Of course I’d see him if I could, Él. I'd prefer to talk to him in person rather than over the phone.”

Élodie’s heart was beating like a snare drum. An idea just entered her mind, a perfect idea that included all of them. Ace is most likely broke, no surprise there if she was right thinking that. But, Felix wasn’t, not by a long shot. Ace may not be able to come to them, but Felix… 

“Put the phone on speaker, I want to ask you and Claudette something,” Élodie requested.

“Umm, okay,” Ace said before calling out to Claudette. At that time, Élodie stepped out of the echoey kitchen and out towards the front door. She definitely didn’t want Felix hearing this plan.

“Hi Élodie!” Claudette’s chipper voice came through the line as she closed the door behind her. 

“Hello!” Élodie sang back. “Hey, I wanted to propose something.” 

“Okay,” both of them answered. Élodie sat down on the front step and hugged one knee to her chest.

“I know you guys are having a ton of fun in Canada right now, and please let me know if we’d be intruding, but I was wondering if you guys wouldn’t mind Felix and I joining—”

“ABSOLUTELY!” Claudette exclaimed, making Élodie pull the phone away from her ear. “Please come! I haven’t seen you two in forever!”

 Élodie laughed. “I wanted to ask first. I want to make sure all of you are okay with it.”

“Oh, everyone’s fine with it, but I’ll go make sure!” Claudette said, Élodie able to hear her run off, shouting for the others in the house. 

“But I also wanted to make sure you were okay with it, Ace,” Élodie added, now a little worried she’d crossed a line. The line was silent other than for Ace’s breathing she could make out. “Because if you’re not—”

“No, no, I—” Ace paused for a moment longer. “I’m just trying to process that.”

“I know it’s sudden,” Élodie said apologetically.

“And that’s fine, but, Élodie…can you answer me honestly about one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Is he really missing me? It’s not just a case of him wanting to clear his conscience?”

“Of course it isn’t. He’s only ever told me he’s missed you ever since I showed up a year and a half ago.” 

Élodie could understand Ace’s anxieties. As far as he’d known, the past two years have been no contact for a reason; reason being that Felix didn’t care for him anymore. Élodie knew otherwise but understood she couldn’t convince him past just telling him that Felix still cared. 

“Okay!” Claudette’s voice stabbed through Élodie’s speakers once more. “Everyone says they’d love to see you two. Are you guys actually wanting to come?”

“Yeah, we’d love to see Canada. I don’t think Felix has ever been, to be honest with you.”

“Oh it’s beautiful here. You’ll love it. When are you guys wanting to come?”

“Well, when would be optimal?” Élodie questioned. 

“Anytime for me. Ace?” Claudette asked him. To Élodie, that question seemed like Claudette’s subtle way of asking both questions; if he was okay seeing Élodie and Felix and when he’d want to. Élodie couldn’t tell if Claudette was just naïve or a very kind genius.

“I’m okay with whenever,” Ace answered, releasing the vice-like grip of nerves from Élodie’s chest. A smile spread across her face that she simply couldn’t contain. If she weren’t on the phone, she probably would have squealed in excitement. 

“How about I let you guys know? I can see what flights we can get and I’ll text you as soon as I know,” Élodie suggested. “It should be within the next day or so though.”

“Perfect! Oh my gosh, I need to plan stuff! Get here safe, Élodie!” Claudette shouted, her voice getting further and further away from the phone with each sentence.

“And, she’s gone,” Ace commented. 

“Are you really okay with us coming?” Élodie asked seriously now that they were more alone. 

“I won’t appose,” Ace said quickly. A wave of apprehension hit Élodie and trailed up her spine. Had she pushed his hand too far?

“But no, I would actually like to talk to him at the least, and I’d rather do that in person.”

“I’m sorry if I’m just throwing this on you.”

“Don’t apologize! Just do me a favor and get your asses here safely.”

With that, she felt able to relax. Élodie smiled, a full warm hearted smile. It’d been a while since she’d been able to do that. “See you in a little bit, Ace. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks, Élodie. See you soon.”

Previous | Next

[otonymous]

🎉🎉🎉 IT’S HERE! 🎉🎉🎉

Welcome everyone to the OFFICIAL LAUNCH™️ of my Patreon page! 🍾

This is a giant milestone for me, of especial significance because this announcement comes close to the second anniversary of the very first fanfic I ever wrote and posted online.  Since then, so many of you have been so incredibly supportive of me and my work, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for each and every one of you.

I still remember how I grappled with myself before I posted my first fic, all the incessant questions that constantly ran through my head: “Will people like it?  Will they hate it?  What if nobody even reads it?!”

The process behind my decision to finally launch a Patreon page was very much the same, my friends.  Honestly speaking, this was a super long work in progress; I had actually started planning for it back in September 2020!  But then came the internal hemming and hawing, the wavering back and forth, and before I knew it, it was the dawn of a new year.

I thought back to the time when I sat behind the screen of my laptop, finger hovering over the trackpad and set to fall on that “Post” button.  There wasn’t any particular rhyme or reason as to why I finally did it — clicked that little blue rectangle and sent out words I had never uttered to anyone else into the vastness of cyberspace.

As in the words of Peter B. Parker from the film Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse (which is absolutely amazing, btw - please check it out if you haven’t already), I just took “a leap of faith.”

That’s really all it was.

But it ended up becoming a key to a door I never in my wildest dreams believed would open for me.  Because if I hadn’t done that, there’s no way I would be sitting here writing this post today.

When it comes to dreams, I’ve learned that you really do need to take that leap of faith.  So here I am, about to jump for the second time into the dark abyss of the unknown.  Except this time, my friends, I have you with me. 💖

Writing is the dream.  For me, it has always been.  And I hope to take you deeper into my world of words — to explore the places we all know and love, but to also forged ahead into uncharted territory.  By subscribing to my Patreon page, you will have full access not only to my fanfics and headcanons (some of which — especially the more NSFW/explicit ones 🔥 — will only be posted to Patreon), but also to exciting original work that I have planned.  

This does NOT mean that I won’t be posting content to my Tumblr account. Tumblr is (sad to say 🤣 ) my first love and I will always have a soft spot for it.  But it DOES mean that my patrons will get early access to pieces that will also be eventually posted elsewhere, as well as exclusive content that will not.

If you have made it this far, please accept the most heartfelt “THANK YOU” from me to you! I’m also extending my sincerest gratitude to all my wonderful friends who put such faith in me and encouraged me to do this in the first place 🥰 

Please check out the details of the different tiers I offer in the pic below and also on my Patreon page at: 

https://www.patreon.com/otonymous

If you have any questions, please feel free to slide into my DMs and I’d be more than happy to help 👍🏼😊

Thank you all again for your support, whether it be through subscribing or liking/commenting/reblogging this post!  Much love to each and every one of you 🥰

- XOXO, Otonymous

[becasbelt]

Chapters: 6/12 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

* * *

CHAPTER 6

“So what’s up with you and Chloe?”

The question makes Beca glance up from inspecting a scrape on her forearm that came from sliding down the side of the bowl earlier. She squints at Jesse and turns her attention back to the cut. “Why do you care?’

“Because I’m in love with you and don’t want you to date her.”

That really makes her look up and actually pay attention, but when she sees the joking glint in Jesse’s eyes she scowls and squints. “Have I told you that I hate you?”

Jesse laughs. “Only every day since we met, buddy. And you’re avoiding the question.”

Beca sighs and grabs some medical tape to patch up her wound. She wraps her arm slowly as she thinks. “I don’t really know what we are, if I’m being honest,” she answers eventually. “I mean, we hang out a lot, and I think that she’s fun and cute, and I guess I’ve thought about starting something up, but…” Beca trails off and feels her cheeks flush as she realizes that she’s rambling.

“But you don’t actually want  anything to happen?” Jesse tries to finish.

Beca shrugs and raises her forearm to her mouth to rip the bandage wrappings with her teeth. “It’s not that. It’s just...” she trails off again. “It’s complicated,” she finishes lamely.

Silence comes from Jesse at that, so Beca looks up at him to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at her curiously. “It’s complicated?” he asks.

Beca nods.

“Then don’t complicate it.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Sure, okay. I’ll just un-complicate it,” she says sarcastically.

Jesse reaches over and flicks her forehead.

“Hey!”

“You have to get out of you head, Beca,” Jesse says, ignoring the icy glare Beca is shooting his way. “You want to be with Chloe. I know you do, even if you’ve been convincing yourself that you don’t.” Beca scoffs and stands up, board in hand as she heads over to an open spot to skate. Jesse hurries after her, carrying his own board, and quickly catches up to her.

“Look, I don’t know what your reasons are for wanting to stay away from Chloe, making yourself miserable as a result, but I think you should forget about them,” Jesse insists. Beca stops and turns around to face him. She looks at him irritably. Jesse softens. “She makes you better, Bec. Whenever you’re with her, you’re a completely different person; a happy person.”

The stubborness inside of her melts away. Beca’s shoulders slump forward and she drops her board on the ground to sit on it. Jesse mirrors her position. “She’s graduating, Jesse,” she says quietly, staring at the cement. “She’s graduating and I’m leaving after this year. I can’t start something only for it to be ripped away from me so quickly.”

Beca feels tears prick her eyes and she swallows, willing herself not to cry. The warm weight of Jesse’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She looks up at him to see a small smile on his face and surety in his eyes. “I may not be an expert on relationships,” he says gently, “but I do know that if you want something to work out, you can find a way to make it happen.”

Right at that moment, Beca’s phone buzzes in her back pocket. She pulls it out in front of her to see a Snapchat notification from Chloe. She opens it immediately to see a picture of Chloe in class, looking bored down at the camera. The text included reads “you’re so lucky your classes get done by 2.” It’s not all that exciting, but it still gets the corner of Beca’s mouth to lift a little.

Jesse hums across from her and she looks away from the picture and towards him. He has an I told you so expression on his face, and Beca hates that he might be a little bit right. She rolls her eyes, and he just laughs before patting the side of her knee and standing up. Jesse puts a foot on his board and prepares to ride away, but not before leaving her with a, “Just think about it, Beca.”

Beca looks back down at her phone and sees a follow-up text asking if Beca wanted to grab dinner tonight. She doesn’t hesitate to respond saying yes as she finally stops forcing herself to bury her thoughts and feelings.

She liked Chloe, damn it.

She liked her eyes and her hair and her smile. She liked the way Chloe could cheer her up when she was grouchy and the way she was so, so understanding. Chloe was the best thing that had happened to Beca in a long time, and Beca knew that nothing has made her this happy in years.

Chloe was music to Beca, and Beca was starting to believe that that wasn’t such a bad thing anymore.

When she was with Chloe, she wanted to sing. She wanted to laugh and goof off and forget about the darkness that lurked in her mind; made her want to tear down all of her walls.

With a start, Beca realizes that there are tears streaming down her cheeks. She laughs at the absurdity of it and wipes them away. She gets off the ground and jumps on her board to go catch up with wherever Jesse went, her mind more at peace now than ever before. She considers having a smoke to heighten her clarity, but decides against it.

No drugs could ever give her the same high that the feelings she had for Chloe Beale did.

* * *

Beca hears a door slam shut, her mother’s voice rising in anger soon after, and sighs. She reaches for her the large, bulky headphones that her father had given her for Christmas and slips them over her ears. The noise from her parent’s yelling immediately becomes muffled.

After about a year of the fighting, Beca knows that the best way to get through the fights is to try and drown them out. She reaches over to her iPod and plugs in the chord of her headphones before hitting shuffle. The shouting from downstairs becomes completely washed away as the sound of Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” fills her ears.

Beca turns her attention back to her homework, humming along to the song under her breath. The next song that comes up is “Wonderwall,” and for some reason it makes Beca take pause. She listens to the chord progression of the song for a moment before walking over to the keyboard set up in the corner of her room. Moving one of the headphone cups off her ear, Beca plays along with the song for a minute.

When the song ends, Beca goes back to Green Day. She listens for a moment and then plays along to it as well. Then, she goes back to the other song. After going back and forth for a while, Beca pauses the music completely and focuses solely on the notes she’s playing. The sound of her parents fighting in the other room is audible to her again, but that doesn’t bother her too much right now.

She was on to something.

Hesitantly, Beca starts to combine the melodies of the two songs. As she goes on experimenting, she realizes that it doesn’t sound all that bad. Excitement lights up within her and she rushes over to her computer, plugging in her headphones once she gets there.

Beca looks up the two songs and is thrilled to find that someone has already combined them into one mashup. She listens eagerly with a smile on her face until the very last note fades out. After that she listens again. And again.

And again.

Around the fourth or fifth time listening to the arrangement, Beca’s mind begins to turn with ideas- with possibilities. She starts thinking of things that she’d do differently; of how she could make it even better.

So, she looks up music programs, finds a free trail for a fairly simple looking one, and downloads it without a second thought. As soon as the program is on her computer, she dives in to start figuring it out.

Her parents’ voices drift away as Beca spends the rest of the night in her room on her laptop, attempting to combine two seemingly different songs into one.

It’s one of the greatest nights she can remember having in a long time.

* * *

The laptop’s harsh light shines on Beca’s face in the dark quiet of her dorm room. Beca slides her finger slowly over the trackpad and hovers her cursor over the icon to her mixing program. She questions what she’s doing – once again – before holding her breath a clicking. The familiar loading box pops up for a minute before the whole program fills her screen.

Beca releases her breath slowly at the sight. She hadn’t anticipated just how nostalgic she’d be upon returning to the mixing program, but she supposes it makes sense. It did, after all, get her through many rough years of her early teen years.

She drums her fingers on her desk and lets her eyes run over all the familiar tabs and tools at her disposal. She clicks on a few and finds that all her settings are still set to be just the way she likes them.

After another moment of putting off the inevitable, Beca launches into action. There’s no more hesitation in her  movements or clicks- she knows exactly what she’s doing. The songs she’s chosen have been stuck in her head for weeks, her mind already brimming with ideas.

Beca’s glad Kimmy Jin isn’t there to see the small, content smile that comes over her face as she works. She wouldn’t want the other girl to think she actually cared about something.

* * *

“I have something for you.”

Beca says the words hesitantly, biting on her thumbnail. Chloe looks up at her from the other side of Beca’s bed. “Really? That’s exciting!”

A blinding grin is on the redhead’s face as she shuts her textbook and moves it to the side, sitting up a little more. Beca stands up from the bed and moves to her desk, waking up her laptop. “Yeah, I, uh, sort of made you something,” Beca says as she opens up her files, avoiding eye contact with Chloe. “It’s not a big deal and it probably sucks, so I totally don’t care if you hate it.”

Chloe scoffs. “Shut up, dork,” she scolds teasingly, moving to the side of the bed closer to the desk. “I’m sure it’s amazing, whatever it is.”

Beca looks at Chloe for a moment and, after deciding that the other girl was being genuine, hits the play button.

A mashup of “Titanium” and “Bulletproof” starts playing from the crappy speakers of Beca’s laptop. It had taken Beca all of about two days to make it; once she’d started she hadn’t been able to stop. The familiar addictive sensation of creating music had overtaken Beca, and she hadn’t wanted to stop for anything. Sure, she’d only gotten about six hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours, but that didn’t matter.

What mattered now was the look on Chloe Beale’s face as she listened to Beca’s creation. Beca had shared her mixes with lots of people before: parents, friends, teachers. And while they had all seemed to enjoy them for the most part, none of them held a candle to Chloe’s reaction.

Chloe’s eyes had lit up upon hearing the opening notes of “Titanium” before her brow wrinkled slightly in intrigue when the melody of “Bulletproof” was laid over the top. Now, Chloe sat there with her mouth open in awe, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, and light in her blue eyes.

The expression made Beca want to kiss her, but she ignored that urge for now.

After a few minutes, the final notes of the mix fade out slowly and Beca hits the spacebar on her laptop to prevent it from starting over again. She bites her lip nervously and looks at Chloe. “So? What’d you think?”

Chloe blinks and a wide grin spreads across her face. “You made that?” she asks in wonder.

Beca blushes and nods her head sheepishly. Chloe shoves her shoulder roughly, causing Beca to yelp in surprise.

“Why are you the actual most talented person I know?” Chloe demands, fake aggression in her voice. Beca laughs and steadies herself in her chair. “Seriously, it’s kind of annoying how amazing you are. You have to save some for the rest of us, Bec. Where did you learn to do that?”

Beca clears her throat and closes her laptop before joining Chloe back on the bed, sitting next to her instead of across from her this time. “Just something that I picked up around the end of middle school, I guess,” she says lightly. Chloe stares at her.

“Something you just ‘picked up’,” she repeats, using her fingers to make air quotes.

“Yeah, it was something that,” Beca looks down at her hands in her lap for a moment and clears her throat. “Something that helped to distract me when things were rough at home.”

Chloe’s eyebrows wrinkle in concern. “How so?”

Beca twists her fingers together and focuses on them as she talks. “My parents got divorced when I was fifteen,” she starts. “Naturally, they fought a lot in the years leading up to their split, so I would put on headphones and drown out their voices with music whenever I could. It helped out a little, I guess,” Beca chuckles humorously. “They fought so much that I was able to get actually pretty good at making mixes. Practice makes perfect and all that. Only problem is now all I can associate mixing with is fighting and how sucky that time of my life was.”

A hand comes into Beca’s vision to cover up both of hers twisted together in her lap. Beca looks up to see Chloe’s caring blue eyes trained on her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she says quietly. Sincerely.

Beca shrugs. “A lot of kids go through it,” she says with a sad smile. “I’m not any different than any other person that’s been fucked up from divorce.”

Chloe squeezes her hand. “Still, no child should have to go through that.” Her expression suddenly hardens. “And don’t you dare call yourself fucked up, Beca Mitchell,” she says firmly, bringing up a hand point it accusingly in Beca’s face. “I don’t want to  hear you say that about yourself ever again.”

Something in Beca’s heart snaps or melts or something and Beca finds herself becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Those words, spoken with such surety, with such conviction, creep over Beca’s walls and settle heavily inside her heart. Because the thing is, no one has said something like that to her in a long time.

Her mother was convinced that they were both messed up after the split. She always told Beca that things would never be the same again, and that a piece of themselves would always be broken.

The therapist her school counselor had forced her to see during her junior year of high school had given up on Beca when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to talk about her feelings. Teachers yelled at her and murmured under their breaths about how she was “trouble.”

Her father, maybe the biggest culprit of all, always telling her that she wasn’t going to amount to anything. That she didn’t know what she wanted. That she would never know what she wanted.

Yet, here sat a girl that Beca has known less than a year, telling her that she was not messed up, that she was better than her past. Beca didn’t know if she could completely believe her quite yet, but she wanted to, because Chloe made her feel good. Chloe made her feel like she was worth something again.

Made her feel loved.

So, Beca takes a shaky breath and reaches a hand up to rest on Chloe’s cheek. “Then maybe the only thing fucked up here is how much you mean to me, Chlo,” she murmurs before tilting her head and connecting their lips.

The kiss is soft and brief, and Beca pulls back from it after only a few seconds. She opens her eyes and sees that Chloe’s eyes are shut, but they, too, open a moment later. They both hold their breaths for a beat before something flashes in Chloe’s eyes and she’s pulling Beca back to her with a hand on the back of her neck.

This kiss is rough and passionate, and Beca feels like she’s losing control of her own body. She slowly leans back against her pillows, pulling at Chloe incessantly until the other girl’s body covers her own. One of Beca’s hands tangles itself in red locks while the other slips under Chloe’s shirt, the feeling of hard abdominal muscles only spurring her on. Chloe slips her tongue into her mouth a moment later, and Beca can’t help the moan that escapes in response.

When Chloe breaks her mouth away from Beca’s she doesn’t go very far. She hovers over Beca, panting, and says, “Do you have any idea what putting ‘Titanium’ in that mix did to me?”

Beca lets out a breathy chuckle. “I think I’m starting to get a pretty good idea.”

Not a lot of words are shared after that. Chloe spends time kissing up and down Beca’s neck, never lingering in any place long enough to leave a mark, yet still leaving little nips on the sensitive skin here and there. When Beca feels like she’ll combust if that goes on any longer, she drags Chloe’s lips back to her own.

Eventually their frenzied passion fades away until all that’s left between them is slow, lazy kisses that draw pleasant hums from the back of Chloe’s throat. The senior pulls away with a final nip to Beca’s bottom lip and shifts to the side so that she’s resting her weight on one half of Beca’s body. “I guess now is a good time to tell you that I kind of like you,” she says as she gets settled comfortably, looking up at Beca.

“Only kind of?” Beca asks in a teasing tone, one eyebrow rising challengingly. Chloe giggles and brushes a lock of hair away from Beca’s eyes.

“Okay, kind of a lot,” she amends, and Beca’s eyes crinkle in affection.

“I like you, too,” Beca tells Chloe quietly.

Chloe grins before stretching up to reach for the laptop sitting on the desk above their heads. “Do you have any other mixes you can show me?”

The laptop is placed on Beca’s lap and she sits up a little to prop herself up against the headboard. Chloe follows suit and leans into her side. “I might have one or two that I can show you.”

And it’s weird, because Beca hasn’t done any of this in years, hasn’t even considered going through her music ever since the experience of making them became tainted with hurt. But at the same time it’s not strange at all, because Chloe is excited next to her and likes her and wants Beca to share this part of her life with her.

So Beca plays her a mix, followed by another one, and another, and countless others after that. And with each one that they listen to, Beca can feel the old, hard memories being replaced with new, pleasant ones.

Beca hopes that these memories will be the ones to stick for good.

[aliciameade]

Fade Into You - Ch. 1

Title: Fade Into You (Chapter 1 of 5) Author: aliciameade Rating: T Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Tip for newlyweds: send a wedding invite to every billionaire whose address you can find because it's a 50/50 chance their assistants just send you a perfunctory gift without ever wondering who the hell you are. Or: Beca had a really bad terrible idea when she got tired of being broke in New York. 

Also on AO3 and FFnet, but I probably can’t link there idk.

Beca wasn’t prepared for how expensive it was to live in New York City. Sure, she’d done her research; she knew it would be costly, but just how costly it was was wreaking havoc on her bank account. Rent, transportation, groceries, household necessities and the very rare luxuries like a concert or theater ticket here or there to keep her sanity had her living paycheck to paycheck. Even bringing two roommates with her to cram into the tiny Brooklyn studio didn’t help her live any more comfortably (considering only one of them chipped in for rent).

Of course, it probably helped her afford to eat.

Whatever. The point was that it was not quite the life she envisioned for herself once she landed what she thought was a Big Job.

But at least she had her friends.

“Why do I have so many cousins? And why are they all getting married?”

Beca watched Chloe sitting at their tiny dining table on Sunday afternoon (if you could even call it that) as she tossed aside a just-opened fancy envelope and what Beca assumed to be a wedding invitation. As far as she could remember, it was the fourth Chloe had received so far that year. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Sixteen. And I’m the baby of the family so they’re all either married or about to be. And here I am.” She gestured at nothing specific and sighed. “I can barely pay my share of the groceries. I can’t afford to go to all these weddings so I need to send something off their registry, but I can’t afford that, either.”

“Weddings feel like a ploy to get free shit from everyone you met once in your life,” Beca said as she watched Chloe stress out. “Like, congratulations on deciding to spend your life with one person. Why do I have to reward that?”

“It’s like an expectation. You either have to go to the wedding or send a gift. Or both!” Chloe slid her chair back from the table and took the two steps needed to get to their bed which she threw herself on a bit dramatically. “I’m just going to elope.”

She liked being on the same page as Chloe. “And miss out on all the free swag?” Beca said as she nudged Chloe’s foot with her own.

“I don’t want to be part of the problem!”

“Okay, okay!” Beca laughed. “So elope. Must be nice, though: send out a bunch of invitations to people you know won’t come and get a bunch of free stuff in return.”

“I know,” Chloe mumbled into her pillow. “It’s so messed up.”

A devious thought slid through Beca’s mind and she paused the music she’d been playing. “I need a new Keurig; ours is going to die any day now. I can feel it.”

Chloe turned onto her side to look up at Beca. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She closed her laptop and slid down to lie next to Chloe, eye-to-eye. “I have an idea. But before I tell you, I blame it entirely on Amy’s influence.”

“Why Amy?”

“You’ll see. Now hear me out. What if we sent out wedding invitations saying we’re getting married in, like, Fiji where no one we know can afford to go, and set up a wedding registry somewhere.”

“Beca, that’s, like, fraud. No wonder you blamed it on Amy.” Chloe frowned at her. “And no one would believe we’re getting married anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not even dating!” Chloe said with a laugh. “And you don’t even like girls!”

Oh. Right. There were those little details that the people who would make sense to invite to their wedding would know she and Chloe weren’t together. Not to mention the giant elephant in Beca’s mental room that she was actually very into girls and very, very into Chloe.

Except literally no one in her new adult life knew either of those facts about her. The bisexual thing was weird to bring up unprompted at this point, and when she started dating Jesse in college, everyone just assumed she was straight and made it even weirder to try to correct.

And the Chloe thing, well...that was all sorts of messy and complicated.

“Okay, first of all, a person can fall in love with someone who’s not their usual...type, so anyone who says shit about that can fuck right off.”

Chloe seemed a bit surprised by her declaration but waved for her to continue. “And the fact that it’s me?”

She had to stop herself from saying, “It’s everything.” Instead, she said, “We’ve basically been living together for six years. I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.”

Chloe was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Beca Mitchell, you devious little devil. You actually think this could work.”

“Well, why wouldn’t it? If Aubrey was getting married in, like, Fiji and you couldn’t afford to go, you’d send her something off her registry, right? That’s what you just said.”

“I would never miss Aubrey’s wedding,” Chloe said earnestly. “She’s my best friend. And she wouldn’t miss mine, either.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Beca drawled. “So we don’t invite our current friends. Or immediate family. Cousins, old coworkers, and friends from high school.”

“Can I invite Mrs. Higgins, my 8th grade choir teacher? She was my favorite teacher.”

“Yeah, I mean as long as she won’t try to show up—wait. You’d actually do this?”

“You’ve had worse ideas.”

“Have I though?” Beca shook her head. “This is dumb. Forget it.” She put away her computer and rolled out of bed. “I’m going to Target if you need anything. I’m out of conditioner.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ll come with you.”

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

When Beca came home from work late on Monday, Chloe was laying in bed, laptop propped on her thighs. She was intently focused on whatever it was she was doing and didn’t look up at Beca’s entrance.

“Hey, weirdo,” Beca said as she kicked out of her shoes and pulled her own computer out of her bag to toss it onto the bed while she changed into comfy lounging clothes. “What are you doing?”

Chloe ignored her for a few more seconds before tapping the trackpad with particularly notable resolution and sitting up. “Hey!”

“Yeah, hey,” Beca laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing? Caught up in an intense Pinterest spiral?”

Chloe shook her head. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

“Is this going to be puppies or something dirty?” Beca knelt on their bed and walked her way up until she was sitting next to Chloe. There was no telling what Chloe had up her sleeve whenever she told Beca she wanted to show her something.

“Neither. Look.” She turned her screen toward Beca.

“What am I looking at?” she asked after a few seconds. “Because that looks like a wedding invitation with our names on it.”

“That’s what it is.”

She looked at the invitation on Chloe’s screen again and then looked at her. Chloe was biting her lip and almost buzzing with excitement. “And why is that a thing that exists?”

“I made it!”

Beca rolled her eyes. “And why did you make it?”

“We need invitations if we’re going to invite people to our wedding.”

“That idea was terrible! I told you to forget it; how much time did you spend on this?” She grabbed the computer away from Chloe so she could zoom in on it. The stationery had been painted with watercolors. It was quite pretty and one Beca wouldn’t be opposed to choosing for her actual wedding.

“A couple hours. I went with a silver and sage palette. I don’t think we’re a couple who has pink in their wedding.”

“Yeah, no,” Beca said, only half-listening because her brain was pretty hung up at the moment seeing the words ‘The Wedding of Beca and Chloe’ in script. “No pink.”

“I just put Fiji because you mentioned it yesterday but we can pick something else. And a date. Oh, and we’re registered at Amazon and IKEA.”

Picking a wedding locale and date with Chloe? Sure. Cool. “Wait. You already registered us?”

“Well, no, not yet,” Chloe scoffed as if Beca’s question was absurd. “That’s what’s on the registry cards that go with the invitations. We need to make our registries together next weekend.”

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned or proud that you’re so willing to go along with my terrible idea.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Chloe said with a shrug.

Beca was pretty sure a lot of bad things could happen like someone showing up to a non-existent wedding. Then again, all they’d really have to do is apologize and explain that the wedding was called off last-minute and point out their would-be guests would now have a vacation in Fiji without wedding activities to inconvenience them.

“Several things come to mind,” she said as she returned the computer.

Chloe elbowed her. “Okay. We need this to be far enough in advance that it doesn’t feel shotgun, but not too far that everyone can rearrange their schedules for it.”

“So it’s like I forgot to send out the invitations like I said I would and you found them in a box two months after they were supposed to have gone out?”

Chloe looked at her, holding her gaze. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“And we should have it on, like, a Wednesday so it’s super inconvenient. With no holidays around it that people can use to save vacation days.”

“I feel like you’re a secret evil genius,” Chloe said as she flipped through the calendar on her computer. “How about October 2?”

“Perfect.”

They then spent more than an hour Googling Fiji and wedding location options. It took so long because they kept bickering about the venues; Chloe loved one but Beca hated it. Then Beca loved one and Chloe hated it. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of them would remind the other this was all fake and it didn’t matter, and the other would argue that it still had to seem real. They’d finally settled on a resort located on the edge of a rainforest that had more than enough amenities for a destination wedding.

“Well?” Chloe asked when she finished entering the details on the invitation. “Good?”

Beca stared at the screen and what they’d created inviting recipients to their wedding. It made her a little queasy so she swallowed hard. “Perfect.”

They ordered a set of one hundred invitations, response cards, registry cards, and envelopes for it all and agreed to split the expense equally.

“Did we seriously just do that?” Beca asked as she put away her credit card. “That shit is nonrefundable. We just burned five hundred dollars.”

“Think of it as a down payment on my new dinette set.”

“Your new dinette? Pretty sure that’s going to be ours, babe.”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Babe?”

Beca blushed. “Wedding fever. Shut up.”

“You’re adorable,” Chloe said with a laugh as she grabbed Beca by the chin to give her a shake. “Careful, or I might marry you for real.”

She blushed even harder, her heart getting lodged in her throat. “Yeah, right, dude.”

“We’ll see,” Chloe said with a wink before hopping off the bed to leave Beca behind, heart still pounding. “It’s my turn to make dinner. What do you want?”

~~~

~~~

“How many names do you have so far?” Chloe asked from her lounging spot lying backward on their bed, feet rocking back and forth next to Beca.

Beca looked at the spreadsheet on her computer; she hated spreadsheets. Loathed them. But Chloe created one for their wedding invitation list so she could have Staples print the addresses on the envelopes once they arrived. Had they planned ahead like actual would-be brides, they’d have had the list ready to import when they ordered the invitations to let the printer do that. But alas. “Thirty-six. It’s hard to figure out who makes sense to invite to my wedding but wouldn’t actually come.”

“If you can get to forty, I can make up the difference.”

“I should invite the CEO of BFD; it’s not like he’d ever come. I’ve never even met him. He’d probably pick one of the expensive gifts, too.”

Chloe sat up quickly and Beca tried not to think about how strong her abs must be to do that. “Beca.”

“What?”

“You’re a genius.” She sat forward so suddenly Beca had a fleeting [stupid] thought that Chloe was about to kiss her but all she did was turn around to sit next to her and look at the list on Beca’s screen. “But don’t add him; I don’t want to put your career at risk. Put your douche boss from Residual Heat instead; there’s no way he’d come.”

“O...kay,” Beca said as she typed his name. She’d have to look up her old studio’s mailing address later. “But why am I a genius?”

“We can invite a handful of CEOs and tech bigwigs who won’t know whether or not we work for them. We send it to their office and their assistant will just buy something off our registry without bothering to look us up.”

“Should I be concerned that your mind is this twisted?” Beca asked as Chloe commandeered her laptop to open Google and start searching.

“Did you forget this was your idea to begin with?”

She watched Chloe pull up the address for the headquarters of Apple. “A little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding? The bigger the company the bigger the chance we get a ‘declines with regret’ and you get that Ableton Push you think I didn’t see you add to our Amazon registry.”

Beca grumbled under her breath to hide her guilt. She’d gotten a little click-happy the other night after a couple beers and added a few non-traditional items to their list like high-end mixing equipment and the new Xbox.

“I’m just going to pick ten companies from the Forbes 500. Let’s see what happens. And now you don’t have to come up with the rest of your list!”

“Sounds great,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Something in her gut was telling her they were taking this much too far. But that new Ableton was so, so pretty…

~~~

~~~

“Becs, honey,” Chloe said when Beca opened the door to head to work.

Beca turned, patting herself down to make sure she had her keys and phone. “What’s up?”

“Don’t forget to mail the invitations.” She smiled at Beca and pointed at the shoe box on the table containing their pretty little scams. Amy had stuffed the envelopes for them last night and was naturally agreeable to their little business venture. They’d obliged her request to add an absurd inflatable bounce house to their list as payment for her help as long as she promised to never try to set it up in the apartment.

Beca was pretty sure Amy had her fingers crossed behind her back when she agreed.

She picked it up and rapped her fingernails on it. “Are you sure we should do this? I feel kind of guilty.”

“We got our list down to eighty-nine people we barely know—or don’t know at all. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, okay,” Beca said with a nod, though being told not to worry didn’t magically erase her concerns. “You’re right. I’ll see you after work. It’s my turn to cook, so text me what you want and I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

“I’m totes going to be the one who actually cooks in this marriage, aren’t I?”

“Trust me; it’s for the best. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

~~~

~~~

Beca dropped the stack of thick, fancy envelopes into the outgoing mail drop on the corner by her subway stop on her way to work, and that was it.

The deed was done.

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

Three days later...

When Beca came home from work she found Chloe at the table but she wasn’t sipping her usual tea and wearing a smile at Beca’s return.

Instead, she was visibly nervous, her arms crossed and eyes fixed on her untouched tea.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Beca asked and moved to sit across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Chloe said in a small voice, eyes refusing to meet Beca’s.

“It’s hard to promise that when I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll try. What’s going on?”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. “My parents got one of our invitations.”

“What?!” Beca almost launched from her chair; she gripped the edge of the table to stay put and she saw Chloe flinch at her outburst. She tried to lower voice when she demanded, “How?”

“I checked the spreadsheet because I know I didn’t put them on it.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “But it looks like it got corrupted, like it combined with my Christmas card list.”

Beca’s blood ran cold. “My dad’s on your Christmas card list, too.” She’d barely finished the sentence when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She could hear Chloe’s text alerts almost non-stop from where her phone sat on her bedside table. “Who else ended up on the list?”

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Beca pulled her phone from her pocket; she already knew. She didn’t even bother looking at the screen as she swiped the screen to answer it. “Hey, Dad.”

“You and Chloe are getting married?!” he crowed into the phone. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, Beca I’m so happy for you both; you’re perfect together!”

“We’re not—wait.” She straightened. “Huh?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She looked at Chloe across the table who was oblivious to what her father was saying. She seemed to assume it to be terrible the way she was hiding half her face behind her hand. She looked miserable.

“Yeah…” Beca replied. She felt bad; this was all her doing and now Chloe’s going to be humiliated having to tell everyone in her life that she tried to do something dumb. Or that her fake relationship failed. And all her cousins were getting married… “We’re...really happy.”

Chloe’s hand fell and her eyes went wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“And I’m so happy for you. The date is going to be tough for me to get away in the middle of the semester, but there’s no way I’m going to miss my little girl’s big day. Is there a block of rooms reserved for guests? Should I just give your name when I call?”

“Um, no. Sorry. We...we splurged on the trip so we couldn’t lock down rooms for everyone.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of the rooms. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the resort and give them my information.” It was Beca’s turn to cover her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. That’s so generous.”

“Anything for you and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

“Thanks. Listen, I just got home and Chloe and I have a lot to talk about. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

Beca ended the call and set down her phone with a long exhale. “Shit.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked sounding as sheepish as she did excited.

“He’s...going to pay for everyone’s rooms at the resort for our wedding.”

Chloe blinked hard and sat back. “What?”

“He thinks we’re perfect together. And he wasn’t surprised at all. Well, he was surprised by the wedding. Not about us being together.” Which we’re not. “What did your parents say?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “They offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner and the reception.”

“What?” Beca said with a barked laugh.

“They’re over the moon for us. Asked what took us so long.” She looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair, which was a unique state for Chloe to be in.

“But you didn’t tell them it’s fake.”

“Did you tell your dad it’s fake?” Chloe countered. “No, you didn’t. You just went along with it.”

Beca sank into her chair, too. “And now our parents are ecstatic we’re getting married.” There was a lot to unpack with that fact and all that came with it. Chloe’s texts were still chiming and a minute later, Beca’s started up, too. “Seriously, who else got invited?”

With a sigh, Chloe slid a piece of paper across the table. Printed on it was a spreadsheet set up just like what they’d made to send to Staples, except it was a mish-mash of their distant cousins, millionaire executives, and people they actually knew. Their parents. The owner of the vet clinic Chloe was interning at.

Aubrey, Emily, and the rest of the Bellas.

“Oh, my God, how did this happen?” Beca said with a groan as she crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the trash can. (She missed.)

“I told you: I don’t know! All I can think is that my files were named List1 and List2 and somehow they got combined or maybe I didn’t delete everything from one of them before I saved it.” She reached across the table and grabbed Beca’s hands. “Beca, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll let everyone know it was just a prank gone wrong.”

Beca was about to agree when she remembered how excited her father sounded. “Your parents were really happy?”

Chloe managed a sad laugh; she still looked on the verge of tears and Beca couldn’t blame her. She felt like she might cry herself. “My mom said she was starting to get worried you were never going to propose.”

“Oh, my God,” Beca said, blushing hard. “She didn’t even know that we were dating. Or, that we weren’t dating. Whatever. What did you say?”

“I told her I asked you.”

“You proposed to me?!” Beca scoffed. “As if you would! I would totally ask you to marry me before you even had a chance!”

Chloe blinked at her, her worry and sadness starting to fade into a soft smile. “You would?”

Beca realized what she’d said and shook her head. “Nevermind. I should have looked at the envelopes before I dropped them off.”

“You didn’t have a reason to. This isn’t your fault.”

“Except that it was all my idea?” Beca said with a crooked smile. “You’d think Amy would have realized they were wrong when she was stuffing them. She knew the plan.”

Chloe sighed and let go of Beca’s hands to run her own through her hair. “Something tells me she knew they got messed up.”

“Why would you think that?”

Chloe shot her a look.

“Because it’s Amy. Right.” She sighed, too. “I need a drink.” Beca stood up and headed for the fridge, the top of which held their liquor collection. “What do you want?”

“Whiskey, neat,” Chloe answered as she pushed aside her tea.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

~~~

~~~

They waited until they were both two whiskeys in before they agreed to get on Skype with Aubrey.

“This is how you tell me you two are a thing?” Aubrey said as she waved the invitation in front of her camera. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“It all happened so fast, Bree,” Chloe said. “I guess living together in such close quarters...well, it brought some things to light.”

It was so convincing that Beca almost believed her. Except she didn’t know why they were lying to Aubrey. Not wanting to immediately disappoint their excited parents was one thing, but going along with it with Aubrey… She nudged Chloe from her spot next to her where they sat closely in bed so they could both be mostly in frame and threw her a look she hoped read, What the hell are you doing?

Chloe just winked at her and slipped her arm behind her to wrap around her waist and pull her closer.

“Well, as disappointed as I am that you didn’t think to tell me, I’m thrilled for you both.”

“You are?” Beca scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You two are good for each other. And I know you’ll take care of my best friend.”

Beca had to fight hard to not blush. “Yeah. Well...that’s the plan.”

“So, Fiji? I’ve always wanted to go! Do you have a wedding planner? And Chloe, I can’t believe you haven’t asked me to be your Maid of Honor yet! We made a pact!”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Right! I was getting to that! I’d love it if you’d be my Maid of Honor.”

“What are you doing?” Beca muttered from the side of her mouth.

“Asking my bestie to be in our wedding,” Chloe muttered in return.

“I’d be honored!” Aubrey said with a bright grin. “Now you have to let me take over the planning. You can’t do this all by yourselves. Put me in touch with your contact at the resort and I’ll take it over. What have you arranged so far?”

“Well, we could barely get the invitations out without trouble…” Chloe started and Beca elbowed her. “So we haven’t really had a chance to get going yet. We haven’t even put down the deposit to reserve the space yet—”

“Don’t say another word,” Aubrey said with her hand up. “I’m going to take care of that as my gift to you both.”

“Thanks, Bree. That means so much.” Chloe grasped Beca’s hand and pulled it up to kiss it.

Beca just stared at her in shock.

“Right, Becs?”

“Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks, Aubrey,” Beca offered. “We gotta go, though,” she added, desperate to end the torture.

“Okay. Remember to send me that info and I’ll send you the confirmations once I get it taken care of this week.”

“Totes. I’ll text you later.”

“Perfect. Have a good night, you two!”

“Bye!” Chloe chirped and Beca offered a weak wave as Chloe disconnected the call.

“Oh, my God, Chloe, we can’t keep this up!” she said as soon as the screen was blank. “What are we doing?!”

“Everyone’s so excited for us; I don’t want to disappoint them.” Chloe turned a little to look at her and she was so close Beca could see the different specks of light and dark in Chloe’s eyes. “We’ll tell them soon.”

“Aubrey’s going to spend money on this. We can’t let her do that.”

“I’ll wait a few days to send her the info and then we’ll just tell it’s off.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

~~~

~~~

Not two hours had passed when both their phones chimed with a group text from Aubrey to the two of them. Chloe was taking a bath when it came in so Beca opened it and read it aloud so she could hear it.

“Was too excited! Looked up the resort info and got it booked. Oh, my God. They said they didn’t have any record of your interest—gee, I wonder why—and the day was already booked for some corporate retreat but I got them to move it for the wedding. Of course she did. Good thing you let me take care of it! You might not have had a venue. Damn it, Chloe!”

“Well, it’s not my fault!”

“Then whose fault is it?!”

Nothing but silence followed from behind the shower curtain.

(Chapter 2)

[nikxation]

Entry #00

Summary: Every good thing has to start somewhere, and sometimes the best, most unexpected outcomes start with nothing more than a nervous gift in a local diner.

Or: How I imagine WWTD began.

Word Count: 2441

Warnings: None

Additional Notes: Written for the 1-year anniversary of @fordanoia‘s RP blog @whatwouldteslado.

AO3 Link

“What… is it?” Ford turns the device in his hand, the hard, plastic outer case warm from the stifling summer heat (or, more likely, from being stored in Fiddleford’s pocket for hike from the house to the diner). Whatever kind of electronic it is, it’s remarkably small, able to fit comfortably in his palm. Boxy, but still rounded at the edges in an almost-ergonomic way. When he flips it, he realizes that the other side seems to have a small glass display, a small keyboard taking up the bottom half just below it, a circular dial of some sort between the two with four rectangular buttons lined up on its sides.

“I call it the Accelerated Logger: Experimental XML edition,” Fiddleford beams at him from across the table. “The ALEX device for short. I’m still fanoodling with the name though, since I reckon giving it a human name is a little creepy.” Ford flips it around a few times in his hands, getting a feel for the weight, pressing a few of the buttons on the keyboard, seeing if he can’t get the little glass screen to do something.

“But what exactly is it?” Ford repeats. “What does it do?”

“Oh right, right. It’s a new journal.” Ford glances back up, not sure whether or not he’s joking, since this device obviously isn’t a journal. The confusion must read on his face, because Fiddleford backtracks. “Well, sorta. It’s like a miniature computer that you only write entries in and— here let me show you.” Fiddleford takes the device back and holds down what seems to be a small button on the top of the device, one Ford hadn’t noticed. “So, this here’s the power button.” He sets the device down on the table between them as the screen flickers to life, the screen lit but dark. “It’s also the sleep button to shut off the screen when you’re not using it. Saves battery, but God willing, I don’t see you killing it any time soon. This high-powered interdimensional residual schism-based collision heap power cell’s got more energy than a kindergarten classroom the day after Halloween. But that’s besides the point.”

“It’s powered by interdimensi—”

“This here is your home screen,” Fiddleford continues on, unimpeded. “You can create a new entry by pressing this button here,” he presses one of the four buttons lined up just above the keyboard, the one on the left with the pencil on it, and a pop-up box appears on the screen with the prompt Type new entry here above it, “then you type in whatever you reckon to record. And then you can push this button," he pushes the next adjacent button, which has a pound (#) sign on it, and a smaller pop-up appears, “to add tags to the post. On the home screen, that same one lets you search through all your tags real fast, that way you can find specific entries without having to flip a bazillion pages crazier than a chicken with its head cut off when you need to find something. This one is the back button,” he presses the button to the left of the circle pad, and the tag pop-up disappears, “which will back you out of any screen until you get back to the home screen. But if you wanted to make a post, just type it in here” using the keypad, he quickly types in Test post 1, “and then press the center button,” he presses the button in the center of the circle, and the post disappears, replaced by a small box on the top of the screen that reads the same text he typed. “And there it is! You can also add titles to posts and stylize the text all fancy-like. And when you have loads of posts, you can scroll through them chronologically using the trackpad—"

“Fiddleford, this is very kind of you—”

“Oh! But this button here,” he presses the one unused button of the tray of four, and Ford’s not even sure his friend heard him, he’s so caught up in his excitement. “Well, by all means, it doesn’t do diddley-squat right now. But eventually, I want to make it to where we can each have a device and type messages to one another, sorta like instant messaging! And this button would take you to your inbox to see—"

He’s not sure how to say that, while the gift is nice, he just personally prefers his journal. There’s something about just writing with paper and pen that an electronic could never duplicate. But Fiddleford seems so excited over it, and he’s never been one for tact, that’s for sure. Maybe if he just…

“Look, Fiddleford, I really appreciate the thought—”

“And I know you still have Journal 3 to finish,” Fiddledord barrels right on, and for the first time, Ford notices the there’s a slight tapping sound coming from under the table. A shoe hitting the ground increasingly faster. “So if you wanna finish it out, I understand that. I just know you’ve always been a worry-wort about your book getting damaged by rain and all, so I figured this would help fix that. All the posts store in an empty pocket dimension, so there’s no chance of them getting destroyed or nothing. And even if the device gets damaged, I can make a new one and reconnect to the same dimension. And I also installed a camera so you can take pictures of anomalies instead of having to sketch them all the time and… And…”

Fiddleford trails off, though he’s still smiling and expectantly looking at Ford, as if waiting for a reaction.

His foot taps even faster under the table.

Five beats per second. Maybe six.

“What do ya think?” he asks.

It’ll be a while before I finish Journal 3. Maybe by then he’ll forget.

Ford sighs.

“I think it’s an amazing little piece of tech,” he says, picking it up and giving it an appreciative once over. “I’ll try it out after I’m finished with Journal 3. Thank you.” The tapping goes silent, and Fiddleford smiles.

“Well, I’m glad you like it!”

“Could you tell me more about this interdimensional power cell that you said powers it? It sounds intriguing.”

“Oh, it is!” Fiddleford says. “Obviously it’s based on the portal research, just on a much smaller, easier-to-stabilize scale. When I made the hole for the memory storage, I realized there was a dang near infinite amount of energy flowing from it, so I finoodled a way to back-harness it…”

~ ~ ~

Ford pours himself his sixth cup of coffee of the morning. Well, he hasn’t slept in… he can’t remember how many days, so thinking of it with respect to the morning can’t make much sense. Not in the colloquial sense. All he knows is that the sun started peeking through the snow-laden treetops over an hour ago, and he’s on his sixth cup of coffee since then.

It’s working well enough, he guesses.

He’s still awake, as far as he knows.

Not like he can really fall asleep now-a-days.

Can’t risk Bill…

He takes a sip from the mug, lukewarm black coffee even more bitter than the last cup, and yet somehow more familiar. Ever since the incident last week, this has become his norm, that bitter roasted taste a constant in the back of his throat.

He’s not sure how long he can keep this up.

Ideally, just long enough to get everything taken care of.

After that…

The Journal is sitting on the dining room counter, gold hand glinting at him in the morning light.

He doesn’t think he can trust a word in that thing anymore. Not after everything Bill has done. Not after learning what he now knows.

He’s not sure he can bring himself to open it again.

That’s ridiculous. It’s just a book.

Then why does the mere thought of it make him want to throw up?

He tops off his mug and heads back to the elevator, ready to continue his work. The portal has long since been shut down, but he swears he’s been hearing sounds coming from it. Which is concerning considering the nature of the machine and what lays on the other side. The room should be silent. Unsettlingly so. But when he’s down there, he swears he hears something.

Something like voices.

Which he knows is absurd.

He ignores them for the most part.

He has research to do. He needs to figure out how to keep Bill out. Either temporarily, or for good. And while initial attempts have been unsuccessful, he hopes knows he’s developed a plan of action that has a reasonable chance of success.

The elevator doors open, and he finds himself in the bottom floor of the basement.

He doesn’t know why he keeps insisting on bringing himself down here.

Maybe as penance?

Maybe out of some sense that he needs to guard it?

Maybe because he simultaneously enjoys and hates the way it makes his gut turn at the mere sight of it, something rotten and aching churning just below the surface.

Part of him… part of him wants to tear the damn thing apart. Some small voice in the back of his head says it’s the best idea, that it’s the only rational idea, that leaving it standing the next room over is dangerous and reckless, especially when it will never be turned on again. That it would be the ultimate way to rub Bill’s betrayal in his face.

But…

Because of course there’s a “but”, otherwise he would have torn it down already

But he can’t bring himself to do it. Not to something he spent months of his life on. Not to something that could still be the answer to all his questions. Not to what he knows is the single greatest piece of engineering this world has ever seen. Not when he’s scared of the aftermath the next time he falls asleep.

And so, he finds himself at a stalemate. Locked in a dilemma he can’t seem to reason his way out of. It leaves him staring through the safety test window, watching the monument as it stands proudly the next room over, fluorescent lights glaring off it.

It’s like some sick joke that he never even learned the punchline to. That there was never a punchline for to begin with. Something he had hoped would be beautiful and wound up causing nothing but pain and destruction.

It leaves something bitter in the back of his throat.

It’s almost familiar.

He takes another sip of the coffee. It’s cool now, the basement sapping every bit of warmth right out of the room, the winter ice settling deep into the dirt.

Maybe he likes that the cold helps keep him awake?

He sits down at the desk, aimlessly leafing through the pages strewn across it, hoping some spark of inspiration will flash across them and tell him what to do.

He moves a diagram to the side and uncovers something from what feels like eons ago.

The device Fiddleford gave him, before everything went bad, back when they went to Greasy’s Diner for breakfast from time to time and life wasn’t completely consumed by the portal.

Back when everything was still okay.

He picks it up off the desk, the device still fitting comfortably in his hand like he remembers it did, hard plastic cold against his palm.

The Accelerated Logistic—no, the Accelerated Log… Logging… Logger?

It was so long ago. He barely remembers…

He finds the button on the side and holds it down, the screen miraculously flickering to life moments later.

After I’m finished with Journal 3…

He knows he has a better time thinking through his problems when he can write them down.

Maybe this will be a good replacement for the journal.

Maybe.

He clicks on the button Fiddleford showed him all those months ago, but instead of the expected pop-up, he gets an error of some sort, asking for a “blog username”.

Why am I doing this? This is pointless.

You need to get your head on straight. Think through this all rationally. This will help.

It’s just another Journal!

What if I can’t fix this?

What if I can’t get him out?

A username.

Back in college, he remembers one physics professor introducing him to the work of Nikola Tesla, and there’s one story he always remembers in particular.

Tesla once built a great machine, an oscillator, meant to change the way electricity was produced and revolutionize the way steam engines operated. Tesla claimed that, during a certain experiment, the device began to vibrate at the resonant frequency of the building he was in, causing the whole building to shudder and quake, compromising the structural safety of the building and risking the lives of its occupants.

He took a sledgehammer to the device to end it.

Or so he claimed.

Ford wonders how true the story is, whether the machine really went unstable, whether Tesla was really able to simply destroy his work so easily.

He wonders what Tesla would do if he were in his own shoes, a literal demon tormenting him, his machine standing between him and the end of the world, or maybe all the answers he ever hoped for. A chance to be somebody and do something important.

Knowing something is the right thing to do, but just feeling deep down like it’s wrong. That there are other solutions.

A username?

He quickly types in the first thing that comes to mind:

whatwouldteslado

When he clicks enter, the pop-up disappears, and the screen is back to how he remembers.

Perhaps Fiddleford updated it while I wasn’t using it.

He shakes the thoughts off and starts typing, the click of the keys echoing through the room.

He’s not sure why… And he’s not sure how to describe it…

But as unfamiliar as it is, something about the device almost feels… promising. Like a new beginning. Some distant light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel.

It’s a good feeling to hold onto for now.

And so, he types.

~ ~ ~

Entry #01.

This is the first entry that will hopefully be of but only a small handful.

I am livid…. Among quite a number of other things, but I need to go about this in a rational manner.

I have recently come up with a rather simple solution to my main issue. Deploying it will not be easy, but I have already faced difficult challenges and I have no doubt that I can successfully carry this out on my own.

…

Post.

[realmofthemind]

Confidence Looks Good On You

Pairing: Loki x Reader (x Clint?)

Word Count: 2,512

Summary: You live in Avengers tower along with Loki and the other Avengers. You are a fairly plain and simple girl. You buy tickets for your favorite punk band's concert (I'm using A Day To Remember) and get all dressed up for it, leaving Loki in awe and giving him the courage to make a move before another avenger (Clint) does.

Warnings: A little bit of a jealous Loki

A/N: This is my first Loki fic and I didn't proof read it. ADTR is my favorite band and 15 years in the making was my first punk concert. The only real reference made to them was the lead singer, Jeremy McKinnon, and their song Have Faith in Me which you should check out. Not feeling to great about this fic but figured I’d post it anyway

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exivUUeTrB0

(F/C) - favorite color

You sat in the common area of Avengers tower, not really caring about who was there or what they were doing. You were at the edge of your seat, nervously bouncing your leg. You could not peel your eyes away from the computer screen as you watch the seconds tick.

12:59:57, 12:59:58, 12:59:59, 1:00:00!

Your finger quickly pounded down on the trackpad as you clicked "Add to Cart." You frivolously moved to your cart and purchased it's content. After a couple of seconds of watching a loading wheel spin around the page, you were promptly redirected to another page that read "Congratulations (Y/N)! You're going to A Day to Remember - 15 Years in the Making Tour."  You could not contain your excitement as you shot up from your chair and raised your hands in victory.

You had been so caught up in getting tickets, you completely forgot there were other people in the room with you. Tony Stark shot you a questioning look as he wandered over behind you. He leaned over your shoulder as he read the text on the page. "Hmm, I never pegged you for a fan of punk music." Tony said as he retreated back to his place on the couch. You looked up to see that Wanda was on the couch next to him and Loki was reading a book in on a chair the corner.

You closed the lid to your computer as you sat back down. "Really? I'm sure you would have heard me listening to it while we were in the gym. What did you think I listened too?"

Tony tapped his chin, pretending he was deep in thought. "Let me see here… what music did I think Plain Jane over here listened to?" He paused and looked over at you, eyeing you up and down. "I don't know. Honestly, I'm kinda shocked you listen to music at all."

 You raised your eyebrow at him. "I have headphones in all the time. What do you think I'm listening to."

Tony looked down at his phone. He frowned as he read the notification on it. It was from Pepper, requesting his presence in the lab. He stood up, making his way toward the door. "I don't know. I always thought you were listening to relaxation tapes or a dramatic reading of Pride and Prejudice or something." He exited the room before you could respond. 

Wanda laughed at his response. You folded your arms and shot her a look. She raised her hands up, showing she didn't mean harm by her reaction. "Listen, you spend most of your time alone and your wardrobe does…. Lack a bit." she said as she eyed you up and down. 

You look down to see your monochromatic (F/C) t shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked back at her in protest. "What? It's not my fault I choose to be comfy over being a peacock."

Wanda giggled at your comment. "Whatever floats your boat." She said as she pulled out a magazine from the table in front of her and began to flip through it.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your computer, carrying it to your room. Little did you know, a curious Loki had been listening to the conversation the whole time. Although he would never admit it, he was always curious of you. You appeared to be a very simple girl but Loki knew there was more to you than what met the eye. He took a great liking to your mysterious aura. It intrigued him and he made it his mission to learn more about you. The more he uncovered, the more he took a liking to you. Although he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself, he's started to develop a slight crush on you. He hated that word. It sounded so childish but sadly, it was the only way to describe the feelings he felt.

Time went by quickly as you counted down each day until the day of the concert. The day of the concert finally arrived and you could not be more excited. You planned out how you were going to get there, what time you were going to leave and your outfit. You woke up and made your way over to your closet. You pulled out the outfit, admiring it for a bit. You looked over at the clock. It read 9:45. You had 2 hours and 15 minutes to get ready. Plenty of time. You made your way over to your bathroom and began to curl your hair. Once you were done hair spraying it into oblivion, you pulled it up into a ponytail. You let a small section hair down so it dipped in front of your face a bit. You then carefully folded a red bandana so it looked like a headband. You tied it around your head as such.

Then came the outfit. You threw on a pair of worn, black, ripped jeans along with a pair of black combat boots. You threw on your favorite band tank top and put on a black leather jacket with studs. You added on a black choker and a cartilage chain earring.

Finally, it was time to do your makeup. You did it very naturally. Once you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt like your face didn't match the rest of your look. You peered into your makeup back and decided to be a bit crazy for once. You pulled out your black eyeliner, making a wing at the corners of your eyes. You put on some dark eyeshadow and completed the look with a bright red lipstick. Adding a bit of shimmery highlighter, you left the bathroom and looked into your full body mirror. Even you were shocked with the way you looked. It was so edgy and different. You felt a sudden surge of confidence. You smiled and looked over at the clock. 11:30. You still had time to eat. You grabbed your bag and made your way down to the kitchen.

Upon arrival, you noticed that Steve, Thor, Tony, Wanda, Clint, Natasha, Flacon, and Loki were already there, eating/looking for something to eat. The sound of your boots against the floor gained the attention of Natasha who did a double take as she almost choked on the orange juice she was drinking. After a bit of coughing she let out a "whoa." All of the others in the room looked at her before following her eyes over to you. You heard a couple of gasps, the sound of utensils hitting the place and even the sound of a coffee mug, shattering on the floor. 

Steve was the first to for a coherent sentence when he stated "Who are you and what have you done with (Y/N)?"

You blushed, not used to all of the attention. The surge of confidence you had was slowly fleeting.

Wanda was the next to speak up as she could not peel her eyes off of you. "Seriously girl, you look hot; I'm questioning my sexuality." She joked.

Tony, realizing that today was the day of the concert, shook his head and laughed. "Wow, didn't know Plain Jane could rise to the occasion like this. You're full of surprises.” 

Thor, confused about Tony's statement asked "What is the occasion that (Y/N) is dressed up very ravishingly for?"

Everyone turned to Thor. Clint, coming to his defense, said "Listen, you can't blame the man. She does look… well…. Amazing." He blushed slightly. It wasn't exactly a secret that Clint had a slight crush on you.

All while this was going on, Loki stood there with his mouth open. Tony took note of this and decided to jump at the opportunity. "What happened Reindeer Games? Cat got your silver tongue?" He teased with a smirk.

 Loki glared at Tony and pretended to busy himself with something else.

 You made your way over to the fridge, pulling out an apple and taking a bite into it. You tried to change the subject off of your looks as you glanced at the clock. "I have to leave in 15 minutes and I still have an extra ticket." You thought out loud.

Loki panicked as he looked over at a smug Clint who was looking around the room, waiting to jump at the opportunity. Loki refused to let this man who has been ogling over you for months now have this opportunity to be alone with you. Before Clint could open his mouth, Loki shouted "I'll go with you."

Everyone directed their attention over to him with a shocked expression. All except for Clint who was glaring over at Loki. Without taking his eyes off of Loki he said, "It's okay, (Y/N). If you're not comfortable going with him, I could go with you."

The staring contest between Loki and Clint was getting intense. Natasha tried to hold back her laughter at the situation. You decided to break the tension, by walking over to Loki and giving him a tug on the arm. "It's okay Clint. I'm okay to go with Loki."

Loki smirked at Clint in victory as he linked his arm with yours, leading you out of the room. You both head out the door and made your way to the venue. You noticed that Loki could not stop staring at you the whole way there. You decided to question him a bit. "Do I really look that different? Am I really that plain?" 

Loki snapped his attention to your face. "I mean, the look is quite different, from your every day apparel, my dear. It's not a bad thing. Different is good from time to time. It just, looks good on you."

You frowned, thinking that you only looked good because of the makeup and clothing. You decided to joke about the stinging pain you were feeling. "Well, I guess I should add more leather and studs to my wardrobe." you let out a weak laugh.

Loki daringly put his arm around you, feeling more possessive. "I'm not talking about the clothes, darling. I'm talking about the confidence. It's not something you typically display. Walking in the kitchen this morning, you showed it. That's why everyone couldn't take their eyes off of you. You carried yourself as if you were a goddess."

You blushed at the compliment as you muttered out a thanks. You both arrived at the venue. You were so happy Loki was the one to come with you. Although he was completely uncomfortable with the atmosphere at first, he grew accustom to it, even letting lose and swaying along to the songs when he though you weren't looking or were too busy head banging. 

When the song Have Faith in Me came on, the lead singer Jeremy McKinnon instructed everyone to grab a loved one and hold them close. You and Loki looked at each other abut remained put. This song was different than the others. It wasn't loud or violent. It was calming and the lyrics were quite beautiful. Feeling so caught up in the moment, you took Loki's hand, not even realizing you were doing it at first. Loki looked down at you. You looked back and smiled. 

As the song came to an end, the lead singer shouted "I normally hate PDA, but I'll give all the couples in here a minute. Let's get some PDA up in here." Around you, couples were kissing, hugging each other, and holding hands. Without thinking, Loki leaned in and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you in closer by your waist. You kissed for what felt like an eternity. You pulled away when you heard the lead singer say "Okay, I get it. Please stop, you're all going to make me puke." You both backed away as the crowd giggled at his words.

The concert lasted a few more songs and ended with a massive confetti cannon going off. The venue started to empty out and you and Loki made your way back to the Avengers tower, holding hands the whole way back.

Once you got back to the tower, all of the Avengers were waiting in the common room, as if they were anticipating something going wrong. When you and Loki walked through the door, you pulled your hands a part from each other. Clint's head snapped toward the doorway the second he heard it open. He took a look at you and Loki before clenching his jaw and storming off. 

Confused, you raised an eyebrow. Tony looked over at the two of you and smirked. "Ah I see. I guess he wasn't too fond of the fun you two kids had tonight."

Confused, you looked over at Loki and noticed he had your bright red lipstick smudged across his lips. You gasped and raised your hand to cover your mouth, sure that your lipstick was probably smudged as well. Loki brought his hand up and quickly ran it across his lips. Pulling it away, he noticed a red stain across his hands. Eyes widening in realization, he covered his mouth as well.

Thor let out a booming laugh and pointed out the obvious. "Well, it's glad to see you had a fun time brother in the company of our lovely (Y/N). I don't know why you acted so disinterested in her. I knew you've been wanting to court her for a while. It's nice to see you finally acted on it." The rest of the avengers tried to hold back their laughs and smiles.

Loki growled and grabbed your hand, teleporting you back to your room with him. Loki stormed over to the mirror and removed his hand, taking a look at the red stain that colored his lips. After a few moments he started laughing. "I must admit. Your lipstick looks good smudged on me." He turned toward you and began to approach. "Although, I do enjoy the look of you on me much more." 

He pulled you in and kissed you again, allowing it the kiss to get much more heated this time. You broke the kiss and left his embrace, taking off your leather jacket and hanging it up. "If I knew confidence would have given you the courage to make a move, I would have worn it a long time ago."

Loki immediately retaliated "I was going to make a move eventually my love."

You shook your head and teased back. "I'm not too sure about that. I think Clint would have beaten you to it if you waited any longer." 

Loki growled at the though of you being Clint's and not his. You felt strong arms wrap around you from behind. "You're mine."

You giggled and turned around in his arms. You stroked his hair hugged him back as you whispered in his ear "I know. Now go get cleaned up and come back here. We could have a movie night or something if you'd want."

He pulled back and smiled "I'd love that."

tags: @welcome-to-fangirl-hell (You should check her out! She posts Loki!)