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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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As Fate Would Have It Part 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Catch Up Here!

A/N: Okay guys, so it's here. The big One-Oh! (which coincidentally is being published on the 10th of March -which is also Bucky’s birthday! Fate is a tricky thing) For this chapter, I wanted to do something special. But also, I'm still doing the before Endgame race with myself because I want to get to a good climax with this story before April! Which is not very far away. *Gulp!* Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy it. Ask to be added to Tags!

Remember: Reader’s alias is Helen Rushman but everyone calls you Elle! You are also an agent with the Red Room (Black Widow’s) who is acting as a double agent within Hydra.

Words: 3782

Warnings: This chapter is hella long. Like when I was editing it I was also surprised by the word count. LOL! Some angst, a lot of fast-paced scene jumping and a bit of steam towards the end... Which means!!! The next Chapter is going to be the smutty chapter! Also, sorry I haven’t proofed I want to write the next chapter quickly!!!

Tuesday Morning.

You had made sure to dress up in your more flattering clothes today. Your make-up a little more glamour than usual. You made sure to buy a magazine about with a headline to do with the upcoming Expo. When you got to work you noticed the security had been doubled and employees were now required to show their ID at the main desk. It wasn't surprising, what was surprising was that there had been no news about the break-in yesterday.

"Morning, Elle," Agnes greeted you as you boarded the elevator.

"Morning Agnes."

"What's with all the security, all of a sudden?"

The elevator had filled up with several other women and men including Kathy. She gave you a knowing look before pretending to not eavesdrop.

"Beats me," you lied. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Kathy's lip curl upwards.

When the elevator stopped at your floor, you, Kathy and a few others got off. You made your way to your desk, unpacking your magazine and displaying it in a very obvious place before heading over to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. Once you were done, you took both cups, placing one on the far edge of your desk while drinking from the other as you read the magazine -making it seem rather obvious by having it cover half your face.

"Sir, I really think you ought to consider reporting what happened to the authorities," a muscled man in a black suit and tie urged Howard. "The security breach--"

"Security. Which is exactly what I'm paying you for. Making sure there isn't a security breach. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an office to stare blankly out of, Old Boy." Howard slapped the muscley man on the shoulder like they were best pals. Tim, the aforementioned man, simply held in an exasperated breath and walked out of the office space.

Howard walked down towards his office, glancing over at you, he noticed the magazine you were reading, he visibly stalled for a moment. "Ugh… Helen, can I have some coffee sent to my office?" He asked in a low lilt.

Before he could walk away, you stood from your seat and grabbed the coffee cup you had placed by the edge earlier replied in a sonorous voice, "Already done, Mr Stark." You gave him a charming smile as you handed him the cup of hot coffee.

"Well, I do say, if you keep anticipating my needs before me I'll be forced to give you a raise," he smirked as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Then I suppose I ought to do just that," you answered back harmlessly. Stark seemed slightly caught off guard by your oddly flirty mood today. "Anticipate your needs, that is." You picked up the magazine and sat back down at your desk. Flipping the pages absentmindedly as Stark walked to his office, every now and then stealing a glance at you through the window.

A few hours later, a call came through. It was one of Howard's countless number of dates. She was all giddy and you could practically sense her blushing through the telephone cords. You rolled your eyes, swooning was never a good look on anyone. But then again, maybe you were bitter for another reason. One reason in particular.

"So, tell Howie I'd love to go with him to the Gala," she chuckled like a love-struck puppy.

You held back a sigh, "I'll pass the message along." You ended the call and gathered up all the files you had finished sorting through. You knocked on Stark's door.

"Come in."

"Here are the files you had me sort through," you placed them on his desk. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking. What's with all the increased security today?"

"Oh," he smiled, "Don't let that trouble your pretty head. Probably a disgruntled employee trying to steal Stark secrets. Wouldn't be the first time. Won't be the last. Innovation is a lucrative business, that's why you should never keep your secrets lying about for anyone to find."

You pretended not to have a clue as to what he was saying, pursing your lips out like you were struggling with keeping a single train of thought.

"Ah, it's no worry," Starks waved his hand around dismissively. "Any messages?"

Ah, he was expecting a callback, "No, none sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes, that will be all."

You turned around to leave, making sure not to rush out too quick in case...

"Helen," Stark stood from his desk.

"Sir?"

"I gathered from your reading material that you're interested in the Expo."

"Indeed I am. The 'world of tomorrow' is too thrilling an idea to not be." You flipped your hair to the side.

¨"Ah, see there's a Gala coming up this Saturday. And the most eligible bachelor, like myself, can't be seen without a dame on his arm, such as yourself. Would you like to accompany me?"

You walked over to him, slow and suggestive, "On one condition."

"Name it."

"It will remain a strictly casual, friendly outing."

Stark laughed low, "It's a deal then. Pick you up Saturday."

Later that Day

"Report," Yelena demanded. Her cigarette stained tips rolling an unlit cigarette. This time Yelena had a tape recorder in place of a notepad and pen. The air was cold and damp, a draft kept creeping in through the ajar container door. In the distance, you heard faint sounds of trains moving past.

"Hydra made contact. Turns out they have another agent in Stark's employ. I think she's there to keep an eye on me too."

"Who is she?"

"She goes by the name Katherine. I don't have a last name."

"What's the mission?"

"Stark got a letter from the SSR. Apparently, he's meeting with a big shot within that organisation this Saturday. She wants me to record their session using a listening device."

Yelena cocked a brow your way, lighting her cigarette finally as she sunk into her chair, "Did you bring it with you?"

"To a highly clandestine meeting with my handler who's not a Hydra agent?" You asked rhetorically. "No. I did not."

"Mind the attitude, tovarich," Yelena warned. After sucking in two long puffs, she continued, "If this meeting is important enough for a Hydra operative to break their cover keeping an eye on you, then this could finally lead us to Erskine's research. Do as they say and report back to us after."

As you stood up to leave, Yelena whispered to you with a hint of concern in her voice, "Tovarich, if Hydra had an agent keeping an eye on you, it means they don't trust you. Be careful."

You were stunned, momentarily, but regained your composure when you remembered who you were talking to, "It wouldn't be the first time." You left the train car with no other words spoken. The faint smell of smoke still lingering on your coat.

Wednesday

"Come on, Buck. It'll be fun. Dancing, music, a chance to get out of your apartment!" Steve urged his best friend who was laying down on his couch in his slacks and a vest. Steve busied himself with trying to clean up the place a bit. Putting dishes in the sink and tossing any clothes laying about in the hamper. "When was the last time you went out?"

"The last time I let you talk me into doing something…" he retorted, not needing to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, but you never actually talked to Elle. It could have been a misunderstanding."

"He kissed her Steve!"

"On the lips?"

"N- No… but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Bucky sat up from the couch, "She broke up with me! And then when I see her after three weeks she's letting her boss give her a non-platonic kiss on the cheek!"

"Oh, Buck. You're jumping to conclusions. And even if that were true, wouldn't you want to know, beyond a doubt, how she felt. You know, before you leave for--"

Bucky chucked a pillow at Steve, "Why do you have to be such a good guy all the time. Why can't you just brood around my apartment like I'm doing?" he asked rhetorically.

"Because if both of us start brooding, we'll never leave this apartment." Steve picked up the pillow Bucky had thrown and used all his strength to playfully hit Bucky back.

"Ough!" Bucky exaggerated.

"Come on. Dancing. Music. A night out. You need it." Steve urged his friend, bringing over a cup of burnt coffee.

"When?" Bucky asked as he sipped at the bitter liquid.

"Friday," Steve said with a smile.

Bucky simply nodded, "Wipe that smug smile off your face. Guess we're going out."

When Steve got to his apartment he made sure the first thing he did was call Sally and let her know everything was in place. Steve prayed them playing matchmaker wouldn't backfire on them.

Friday

You had spent most of your week in a rebuttal battle of flirting with Howard. To say it had been taken more of your energy than you'd have like would be an understatement. In a way, you were glad you had agreed to go out with Sally tonight.

You looked in the mirror to see if your outfit complemented your lipstick -you chose rouge. You wore a red dress with a black lace pattern over the satin red and black pumps. You chose to wear lacey fingerless gloves and a small necklace.

"Hey, darlin' you almost ready?" Sally asked from your doorway, her hands fitting in a pair of large fake pearls. "Red?"

"What's wrong with red?" You shot back defensively.

Sally smirked coyly as though she was a mastermind checking all the boxes in her to-do list, "Nothin' it's just… The blue dress is perfect for dancin'. It twirls around you like magic!" She said excitedly.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, "Alright I'll try on the blue one."

A few minutes later you called Sally back into the room and she gasped like it was the first time she'd seen the dress, "It's absolutely gorgeous. Give us a spin!"

You twirled round and as though the dress was a part of you, it flowed around you in cascades. The material breezing across your knees. You giggled like a teen.

"I suppose this will do."

"Come on then Hun. Let's go before we miss the bus!" Sally linked your arms together and rushed you out of the apartment.

***

Bucky kept running his hands through his fingers, whether it was nerves or just him not being out for a while, he couldn't tell, but he promised Steve he'd stop his brooding and have a fun night out. The Stork Club was filled with people, young and old. Somewhere by the bar cheering with friends while others were at the far end dancing to the live band. Bucky had almost missed the lively atmosphere of places like this. But every time he thought of going out and dancing with some broad, she'd always have the same face and the same laugh. She would always be Elle and it drove him crazy.

He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face. Even now, in this club, hidden amongst the crowd, he saw her. She looked beautiful as always, the blue dress complementing her figure in a cool aura. She looked like a breath of fresh air amidst all the ladies wearing brighter reds and yellows and greens. He saw her rouge coloured lips and could almost taste their kiss atop the Ferris-Wheel in Coney Island. He could almost remember the exact thoughts he had as the sun set. That was the moment. Maybe if he had told her how he truly felt… Maybe if he had fought harder and not been the gentleman afraid of keeping her from her future. Maybe…

Then she disappeared as though she was never there as the crowd of dancing people grew in number.

Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was convinced he was starting to hallucinate her now. "I'm going to go to the bar. I need a drink." He told Steve.

"Don't get lost," his friend teased.

"A whiskey, neat," he asked the bartender.

"Buy a girl a drink?" A woman's voice spoke beside him. Bucky turned to look at her. She was beautiful he couldn't deny, and the way she looked at him… he was almost tempted to buy her that drink but he knew it would simply be an excuse to forget about Elle and that he'd regret it the next day.

"Sorry, Doll. Some other time," he gave her a weak smile, her lips turned downwards, she was disappointed but he didn't care. He downed his drink and went back to find Steve.

***

You walked away from the dancing crowd, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You needed to catch your breath. Sally followed after you, giggling with warmth. You'd be lying if you said this wasn't exactly what you needed. Then you saw someone familiar on the far end of the room.

"Steve!" You shouted in surprise as you saw your little friend alone in a corner. "What are you doing here?" You marched over with Sally still on your heel.

"Uh… Elle, hey! Um, this is a surprise..." Steve fidgeted about.

Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him with a big smile on your face. You didn't realise how much you'd missed him in the last month.

"Wait, if you're here, does that mean--" before you could finish your question you heard that oh-so-familiar voice speak behind you.

"Elle?"

Your breath got caught in your throat and your muscles felt petrified. You were frozen there.

"Bucky..." you whispered too low for anyone to hear.

"Oh my, now this is quite the coincidence. All four of us at the same club. Must be fate!" Sally chimed in from behind you. She quickly grabbed Steve's arms -who looked a little apologetic- and rushed him to the bar. "Steve, how about we get a drink. Catch up. I'm absolutely parched!"

Sally dragged him away as she mouthed an insincere "Sorry," before winking and disappearing.

After a few breaths, you finally had the courage to turn around and meet Bucky's eyes. When you looked into his beautiful blues again for the first time in a month it felt as though you'd been knocked off your feet. You'd almost forgotten how easy it was for him to make your heart race and your cheeks flush. How easy it was for him to turn your steeled conviction into a brittle wall made of plaster.

It was as though time stopped. Everything melted away and all you could focus on was the man standing in front of you.

Bucky snapped his fingers, putting on cool airs in an effort to break the silence, "I should have known Steve was up to something. Usually, I'm the one nagging him to go out." He gave an awkward smile as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

You laughed awkwardly not wanting to fall back into the silence, "Tell me about it. I should be able to smell Sal's devious plans a mile away by now. I guess I've just been too preoccupied with work."

Bucky's head snapped up at the mention of work. His jaw clenched for the briefest moment. It was his tell. "How is it. Your new job?"

"Honestly, I miss the Dinner. I miss Hal constantly nagging Annie and Sally mothering everyone…" You wanted to say I miss you but you stopped yourself. "Working for an obnoxious genius can be quite draining."

"You seemed pretty chummy to me," Bucky blurted out. He cursed at himself, seemingly regretting his words, but it was too late, you heard him.

What do you mean?" You looked at him, puzzled by his comment. Then it hit you. The pink flowers, Sally's odd behaviour. The setup. "The flowers, they were from you."

"You got them?" Bucky's tone relaying his shock. "But I never gave them to you..."

"I saw from my desk. I assumed one of the secretaries threw them out. I guess they reminded me of the peach tree flowers at the picnic."

Bucky's eyes lit up then, "I thought the same thing." He smiled, genuinely and it made your heart flutter.

"Why did you throw them out?" You placed a hand on his forearm. Bucky looked down at the contact longingly.

"I saw you. And Stark. You seemed… close."

You laughed, something about the idea of you and Stark being together tickled your funny-bone. Maybe it was the irony of the fact getting close to Stark was part of your mission. Or, perhaps, it was because Bucky thought Howard could replace him. If Bucky knew how you truly felt around him, he'd understand how absurd that thought was.

"Howard's known for being a harmless flirt. He cares more for his work than anything. I don't think he'd know what to do I he ever got into a real relationship."

Bucky took a step closer to you, "So then… you and him?"

You smiled, taking the other step forward, "Strictly professional. I promise."

Bucky smirked, the look of an idea crossing his mind glistening through his eyes, "Well since we're here." He held out his hand. "The band is playing our song, Doll."

There it was, that charm and charisma you'd been craving for so long. The special way he called you 'Doll'. His smile and his outstretched hand. A part of you screamed to stay away, to spare him from any dangers or heartbreak that had convinced you to end things a month ago. But you were tired of being that cautious, good little soldier. For once, you saw what it was you wanted. What you craved with every nerve and cell. And for once, you weren't going to deny it. After all, it was just a dance. One, harmless, short dance.

Your lips turned upwards, your eyes glued to his. "I'd love to."

Bucky took your hand and twirled you towards him. Over his shoulder, you saw Sally bounding and bouncing about, no doubt proud of her intervening. Steve also seemed quite pleased with himself.

When the band played something slow, you rested your ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. With each beat, you felt joy begin to build within your own heart. All night you'd had this large smile that refused to subside -and so did Bucky.

The two of you stumbled out of the crowd of dancing bodies and headed towards the back exit in need of cool air. The band's lively music, still audible from the amber coloured alleyway. You lifted your head and took a deep breath, condensation forming when you breathed out.

"God, I missed this," You admitted to Bucky as you blew at a strand of hair that had come undone from its pin. On instinct, Bucky tucked it behind your ear, but as soon as he realised what he did -touch you as though you were still familiar with each other- he cleared his throat and bit his lower lip. "Sorry, a force of habit."

Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "I've missed you, Buck."

Bucky placed one hand around your cheek, the other around the small of your back. He held your gaze for a moment, as though looking for any indication you didn't like where this was going, you didn't give any such signs. He leaned in and you closed in the distance. And after what felt like an age stretching out forever, his lips met yours and the two of you were lip-locked in a passionate embrace. Lost in the heat of the moment, you leaned into his touch. Your hands folded across his back, a moan escaping your lips as he guided your body towards a wall, pinning you there while one hand moved achingly slowly from your waist to your thigh. His grip was greedy and a little rough causing you to quiver, he could feel your body shake against his chest making him deepen your kiss even more. You let out a second moan when he suddenly stopped.

"Why did you stop?" You asked with deeply flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Bucky's thumb graced your cheek as if trying to make sure you were real, you tilted your head against his hand, letting him know you were with him in this moment. "Do you have any idea what effect you have on me?" There was a tinge of pain hidden in those words, it made you rush to cup his cheeks and reassure him.

He clasped both your hands, "I just, I need to say this."

You had a feeling that whatever it was he was about to say, it had the power to change things forever. You swallowed hard, almost afraid of what he was about to say, but you owed him this much.

"Okay," you whispered softly.

"Before you, I had never really felt anything close to what I feel when I'm around you. I felt… I feel invincible, like I can do anything! I never imagined it could feel like this, being with someone. But then, I had to let you go, because I was convinced I couldn't be the one to hold you back from your new job, from your new future. But… I hate that I didn't fight for you. I hate that I decided to take the high road. You drive me crazy, Elle…"

You flinched when he called you Elle. More than anything you wanted him to call you by your real name. You wanted to be completely transparent with him.

"I want you back," he kissed your knuckles before letting them go. He brought his hand back to your face, his eyes boring deep into your soul you felt like you couldn't breathe as long as they were on you. "I need you back."

"James Buchanan Barnes… I never stopped being yours. You had me at 'Hello'." You kissed him again this time it was less greed and passion. It was tender and soft. It was a silent I love you.

The vibrations of Bucky's laugh travelled through the kiss making your knees buckle.

"Want to get out of here?" He asked with an extended hand.

You placed your hand in his, "Lead the way."

As you walked away from the club, rain clouds began to form and in no time, the smell of rain filled the air with promise.

Part 11 is Here!

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kookiebunnii · 6 years

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circling words pt.1

A/N: italicized words = spoken in Korean ; bts/reader Sitting alone in the uncomfortable airport seats, you fiddled with the edges of your ticket as you stared blankly at the hurried crowd. Although it was loud and bright, your mind still rushed a mile a minute as you wondered for the hundredth time how you managed to land yourself in such a position.

Some run-of-the-mill, ordinary, plain teacher, had received an invite to tutor BTS in English — and that instructor was you.

It had been just like any other day, as you took the bus home from school with the bright and cheerful faces of your young students in mind. They had submitted their first journal entries that day, and you had been excited to read through them that evening. Little did you know, a letter was lying inside your mailbox that requested you to not only drop your present job, but travel abroad the very next day.

Sighing softly, you began to play with the hair at the nape of your neck before taking a quick glance at your phone. The boarding time was drawing near and you still had no idea if you were mentally prepared for such a challenge. At least the trip was all expenses paid…

Before you could question whether you’d lost your mind sacrificing all you’d known for your entire life to pursue some vague job prospect, your flight’s row was called and you were quickly ushered aboard the passenger jet to Seoul.

—————

As you hurried behind the straight back of the BigHit manager, you breathed in the cool air and felt yourself smile. You had always wanted to travel, and South Korea was definitely on the list of destinations you’d hoped to visit once you had the time and funds. Who would have known you would finally be here under these circumstances? It was so crazy you almost laughed aloud.

Ducking inside a black-colored van that you’d seen so many k-pop idols enter into and exit from, you couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing nervously as the driver pulled out of Incheon.

“Miss [LastName], thank you for accepting our sudden request. We are delighted that you will be working with us,” the manager stated politely as her steady eyes focused on your own with intensity.

“Thank you for the opportunity…and all the accommodations. I do have some questions though,” you pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure you do,” she smiled calmly, “Our CEO will be speaking directly with you after we arrive and address any concerns you may have about the job.” Although you nodded quickly, you couldn’t help biting your lip at the idea of speaking to Bang Si-Hyuk himself. You probably looked like a total mess from that flight and you still hadn’t completely studied nor recalled all the Korean you had studied oh-so-long ago. You were thankful that the employee spoke such perfect English, but you were sure you would need to quickly remember how to converse professionally and correctly or you would be booted just as suddenly as you were hired.

By the time arrived, you had probably gone through every inch of professional Korean speak. Wearily, you exited the vehicle and moved towards grabbing your luggage from the trunk. As the driver shooed you away, you looked at him questioningly before noticing that the manager was already briskly entering the building. Deciding that your meeting was probably the most important thing at the moment, you quickly bowed to the driver and smiled apologetically before speed-walking after the poised lady.

The inside of BigHit headquarters was everything you expected — clean, minimalistic, and commanding. The small fangirl inside you was excited to be here, but the more mature part of your brain quickly reminded that you were there as an instructor, even if you had had ‘Seesaw’ stuck in your head the entire duration of your flight earlier.

“He will meet you on the fifth floor. I will await your return to take you to your living arrangement afterwards.”

Breathing out a shaky ‘thank you’, you entered the elevator and watched as the small lights blinked on and off with your ascension. As the doors opened, you regained your composure. You did not become the youngest teacher at your private school back home without knowing how to be a professional.

Knocking gently against the door with a silver plaque reading the hangul for the BigHit founder’s name, you entered when you heard a voice’s invitation.

The office was nothing grand or breath-taking, but you felt small anyways as you were suddenly face-to-face with Bang P.D. His expression was hard to read, but you followed him without hesitation as he asked for you to take a seat and inspect the contract in front of you.

The next hour was filled with pages and pages of legal speak. Although most would simply skim by and sign where indicated, you made sure to politely request clarification when needed and ensure you knew what you were getting yourself into.

As you flipped over the page describing your obligation to stay away from romantic affairs with any of the BTS members, a nervous laugh escaped you as Bang P.D. smiled and commented, “You’re definitely your father’s daughter.” “You know of my father, sir?” Nodding, he continued, “Your father and I were close friends in university. Although we knew we were following different paths after graduation, we maintained close communication. He has really become a successful lawyer where you are from now, hasn’t he?”

Smiling shyly, you nodded before adding, “You are highly successful yourself sir. I am thankful for this opportunity, and I hope to help in any way I can as BTS reaches greater heights on a global scale.” “And your Korean? How is it?” Nervously, you fiddled with your fingers before replying, “I will work hard to learn as much I can sir. After all, there are many things teachers must also learn.” Looking at you with what almost seemed like pride in his eyes, he stood up and gathered the documents before you into a manila folder. Standing up as well, you bowed deeply before shaking his outstretched hand.

—————-

Collapsing on your bed, you momentarily appreciated the softness of the blankets before reviewing the extraordinary day you’d just experienced. Your apartment was wholly enough for one, as you spent the first few minutes simply exploring the kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. It was quaint yet modern, and you unpacked with the last of your strength before cleaning up for bed.

Tomorrow would be Saturday, and you were supposed to meet and have introductions with BTS for the first time. The schedule that your manager, Manager Han, had forwarded you gave you consistent times for both private and group English lessons and a couple of free days as well. Based on the contract, you were required to accompany the group on certain interviews or events abroad, but also other unspecified occasions that might come up.

Deciding that you would use tomorrow and the day after to assess each member’s English proficiency, you set an alarm for 9 AM and turned the lights off.

—————

Despite it being only 11 in the morning, it had already been quite an eventful day. You pondered a series of unfortunate events including, but not limited to: waking up late, getting lost twice, and spilling half of your coffee on the ground after tripping on some particularly uneven pavement. Additionally, you were sure your hair was a mess as you finger-combed it sadly and played with your phone in your coat pocket.

At the sound of a knock, you straightened and your hand flew from your unruly locks to your lap. Manager Han entered and stood at the end of the table as a trail of men entered after her. Breath caught, your eyes widened unconsciously as the idols known as RM, J-Hope, Suga, Jimin, Jin, Jungkook, and V entered to settle their dark orbs on your features. You swallowed thickly before standing up to bow deeply and receive scattered bows of their own. Although they were dressed casually, you noted that each and every member was put together and easygoing in their appearance as everyone proceeded to take a seat at the table.

“The purpose of this meeting is to allow everyone to make introductions. Let’s start with the boys?” Receiving your manger’s quick glance, the leader is the first to speak, “Good morning, my name is Kim Namjoon. Thank you for agreeing to be our English teacher; we look forward to the lessons.” Smiling brightly, J-Hope quickly continues, “I’m Jung Hoseok! I can’t wait to start, thank you for being here.” Feeling a smile of your own appearing, you nodded before shifting your gaze.

“Hello, I’m Min Yoongi. Nice to meet you sonsaeng-nim.”

You murmured a small reply before you noticed a hand waving at you with a shy smile to accompany it. “Good morning! I’m Park Jimin and thank you so much for being our English teacher — we really appreciate it.” Moving on, the eldest gave you another small bow with his head before introducing himself as Kim Seokjin and to your chagrin, he failed to mention his title of ‘worldwide handsome’.

V almost doesn’t realize it’s his turn until Jungkook elbows him and he jumps and mumbles out a, “My name is Kim Taehyung. Hello…” He seemed a little tired, but the maknae was quick to interject and declare, “Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you.”

Despite his short introduction, he seemed excited to learn and for that you were greatly encouraged before beginning your own greeting.

“Hello everyone, my name is [FullName]. It is an honor to meet such talented artists and I will do my best to teach you all. I am also learning Korean so I have a lot to learn from you as well. Please do not hesitate to ask me anything! I look forward to working with BTS.”

The group made small noises of surprise when you finished speaking as you caught some phrases noting how well you spoke Korean. Smiling brightly, you continued forward by pulling out a [FavColor] notebook and a pen. They watched your movements obediently, and their apprehension reminded you a lot of your students back home. It comforted you, so you stated, “Starting now, we will only be speaking English. I want to see each member’s level of English mastery so I will be having a few tests.”

The majority of the group had been staring at you in confusion until they heard the word ‘tests’. At that, you could feel their nervousness next to the noticeably relaxed Namjoon, who straightened slightly and looked almost eager.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be easy,” you tried to give them a reassuring look as you passed out sheets of paper and pencils, “Please write about anything you want. Something cool that happened this week maybe?”

Just like how your elementary school students had excitedly started scribbling when given such a prompt, the members obediently followed your assignment. After a few minutes, you collected each page and noted little things like how RM’s entry looked more like an essay and Jungkook included doodles in the margins. After that, you simply conversed with each member in English by asking group questions or reaching out individually to the quieter members by asking things such as, “Yoongi, what music are you currently listening to?” or “Seokjin, what is you favorite dish to cook?” or “Taehyung, how late did you stay up last night to play games?” They seemed to be more engaged as they realized you appeared knew them to a degree that they likely hadn’t expected. By the end of the meeting, you had two pages worth of observations and Yoongi even managed a brief grin after everyone laughed when you exposed V with your question.

As they exited with excited waves, handshakes, and laughter, you packed up your things until it was only you and Manager Han in the room.

“You did well today,” she commented.

“Thank you, I will always try my best,” thinking back to the night before, you wanted to prove that you were hired for your competence and not simply because you were the daughter of Bang Shi-Hyuk’s friend.

After exchanged goodbyes, you headed to a nearby cafe that had good reviews in order to start planning out lessons for Monday. The weather was on the chillier side, but nothing uncomfortable. Crossing the street alongside tourists and locals alike, you reached the small but bustling establishment. The inside had a warm wood interior, and you waited a few minutes in line before taking your [FavDrink] and settling down at a small table.

As you took a few sips, you thought back to your first encounter with the boys. Without a doubt, they were energetic and kind. They clearly respected and trusted you, something that you didn’t want to take lightly at all. You couldn’t help but feel the corners of your mouth turning up as you remembered the way RM would answer your questions so complicatedly that left the members staring blankly. It made you soft just thinking about how their handwritings were all unique but uncertain at times when they tried to spell bigger words.

Typing up outlines for your lesson plans, you checked that you were first scheduled with Jin in the morning at 8 before having to meet Namjoon at 2 PM. Because of the rigorous schedules of the boys, your schedule noted that sessions must conclude promptly after an hour had passed. You kept that in mind as you brainstormed possible activities that would really engage the two.

Your phone lit up momentarily with a small buzz as a text message appeared in notifications. The message was from a number you didn’t recognize, but you quickly realized it appeared to be the BTS leader himself.

[1:07PM] Hello, it’s me Namjoon. I just wanted to thank you for the examination today. Everyone had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed speaking with you. It was a good practice.

You wondered briefly how he had managed to your number, but you figured he had his ways. You were required to provide it for the forms you filled for your employment, and perhaps texting would be a better, easier method of communication.

[1:08PM] It’s nice to hear from you, thank you for your insights! I look forward to our lesson on Monday.

Setting your cell phone down, you returned back to your computer screen and bit your lower lip as you typed out some practice problems. But before long, your phone buzzed again.

[1:10PM] I was also wondering if we could talk here, to practice more.

Frowning, you really didn’t know how to respond. If this were any other sleazy guy using this line, you would assume he was trying to hit on you in some manner. But this was Kim Namjoon and you were hired to be his English teacher.

[1:11PM] Of course. Let’s try some challenging topics then? Please do your best to watch out for grammar and maybe even use some advanced words! Let’s start with: What motivates you to produce music? Describe the entire process to me from beginning to end.

By the time you were home in the evening, belly full with a home-cooked meal and eyes weary with sleepiness, RM was still sending you mini passages. You learned a lot about him in the span of a few hours of texting: his inspirations, fears, and dreams.

[10:45PM] Namjoon, we are all really proud of you. With everyone’s hard work and your dedicated leadership, I have no doubt that BTS will continue to amaze the world.

You shut your eyes momentarily, but that was enough for you to drift off. A few minutes of silence later, your device gives off a faint, almost shy buzz before also going quiet.

[10:50PM] Thank you, [Name].

Part TWO

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writings-and-ideas · 5 years

Text

Curiosity

After a week full of turmoil and stress, Dan found himself surrounded by mutual friends. He came to this house party in hopes to end the week on a high note. A murky conversation with a romantic, or rather a potential romantic, interest put the beginning of his week on a shaky note. Followed by a flat tire on his day off. A flat which he could not afford to replace, added to the laundry list of trouble that would follow him through the rest of the week. Barrowing money he was, luckily, able to replace the tire. That same evening after returning to the discount tire repair business to retrieve his car, he decided performing might turn this week around. Inviting some friends out to the occasion boosted his resolve to show up and perform, rather than flaking, like he would do most weeks. The previous few endeavors into his joke telling’s went well enough, so why not invite some friends out to finally see him perform. Dan immediately regretted the decision, when during the host’s introduction to the show the crowd was unfavorable and rowdy. The show went on with each comedian either completely bombing or parading about the stage describing just how awful show was going. Dan waited, having panic attacks through each set until his turn was up.

The open mic he frequented was at a dive bar. He sat a few short feet from the mic stand. The stage- if it can be called that, was more of a space the establishment had cleared to allow a microphone stand to be viewable from most tables. Dan sat at the bar in an emerald cushioned high stool maybe six feet from the mic. Each time the host would return to the stand, Dan found himself hoping, desperately, that somehow his time would be cut. That the host would’ve forgotten about him. As more comedians flailed about, Dan found himself staring down the short hallway to the exit. Perfectly placed across the room from his seat. I could just leave. Say I had something important to handle. Dan planned his escape as the host handed over the microphone to a man, who would break two tables in his unsuccessful attempt at stimulating the room. The room, by this point in the evening, was only occupied by those who stayed by some sense of respectful obligation to the event. Individuals, like the very friends Dan had invited to this travesty. I’m going to run. Dan thought to himself, but just as he gathered what courage he could the host began walking directly towards him. His heart pounded with each step the host took. She was, all at once, upon him. “Bet you thought I forgot about you, huh?”, She said to him with a smile. She looked at him through thick glasses and spoke with a raspy voice. The voice you get the day you recover from a sore throat, or the voice of someone in dire need of a cough drop. She reassured Dan that she did not forget about him, as he hoped. She then informed him in an upbeat tone, that he had the pleasure of closing tonight’s show out.

He could not for the life of him tell how he did. He made no note of the jokes that did well or failed to hit their marks. He was in utter shock and was in fight or flight mode. The option of flight was gone the second his name was introduced. His pride would’ve never allowed him to flee. This was his Tuesday night, and the tone of that night would carry though out the rest of his week. Failed romance Sunday, a flat tire Tuesday, a dentist appointment Thursday- I must floss, and Friday at work he ruined his favorite shirt. The ruining of his shirt seemed little consequence, but it was at work; rushing to help a customer who ended up belittling him. As for Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday; Dan worked his menial and life draining retail job. Each hour spent at work felt like an hour wasted to Dan. He would often find a blind spot in the security system’s cameras and read novels or write until the door chime heralded another customer to greet. By Saturday night’s shift Dan was looking forward to the end of the week and had been invited to a friend’s house party. Once free he raced down empty streets and under broken streetlights, through the young night. Onward to some chemical and social relief from the hell that had been his week. He drove fast, slowing only for the wolves that lay in wait on Saturday nights to fill their quotas. He prided himself in his own ability to spot them waiting, to catch the glimmer of their crimson and sapphire lights dormant under empty parking lots and lurking in side roads. He arrived at his location unimpeded. He parked three houses down. The number of cars lining the street were his oracles for the night to come.

He approached the house with a confidence he had not felt in a long time. He opened the screen door. Something that shocked himself. Usually he would ring the bell or wait to be greeted by his host. Like a vampire he would always wait to be welcomed in, but the week had worn his manners down, and besides the host had offered him a room in their house twice now. This place is as much as my home now anyways. He turned both offers down. He strolled into the party seeking out the host immediately. Greeting her with a smile, a hug, a lighthearted joke, and two bags of single serve trail mix he picked up last minute. He always had to contribute. Once the small catching up was done, Dan made his usual rounds. Before eating, grabbing a drink, or partaking in any narcotic activities he would make the effort to make his presence known to each room. Through the den, into the kitchen, poking his head into the garage- full of younger adults than himself, eventually back through the entire first floor of the house to the living room. He found there a good friend already well into the drinking Dan wished to be apart of. Dan’s friend wasted no time fulfilling that wish. Before Dan knew it, he was unaware of how he found himself now, sitting in the den. The room was lit only by a lamp that cycled through red, blue, green, purple, orange- repeat. He had in his hand a drink. What was in said drink and who had given it to him was a blur. He did remember spending some time in the garage, but it was stuffy, hot, crowded and full of smoke. He stayed to entertain the inhabitants for a time. In exchange they gifted him several pulls from, what Dan guessed, was a joint. Dan had quit smoking, but never wanted to be rude, so he held the joint and waited to pass it with out taking any part of it. After he felt he could escape the scene, to avoid partaking in old habits, he did so. Now he sat sipping from his drink, Pineapple- no this is mostly just gin. He was seated in a high black wooden chair, found near the corner of the den right in front of a lamp that was his sole source of light bathing everything in colors. The amp behind him was also the sole source of music for the evening, to the right of his seat was a sliding glass door leading to the backyard where he could refill his lungs with fresh air. The amp was currently connected to someone’s phone and playing some lo-fi synthetic music. Dan never considers himself a dancer, but in the moment, he couldn’t help but to bob and sway to the rhythm of the music. “Can I ask you a question?”, the girl was in his space. She entered it with out him even noticing. He turned his head to meet he eyes. She was one of the younger women attending the event. Dan considered anyone younger than him by more than a year a child. She wore a top that was designed to both display her midsection and cleavage. A sort of tube top V-neck t-shirt. She was short, and the height of the chair Dan sat in made he seem shorter. Dan realized he was staring at her blankly in his drunkenness. The music drowned out her small voice out, but Dan had become adept at communicating in these environments.

“Can I ask you something? It might be a little offensive and I don’t want to offend you.”,

She persisted. Dan replied with pride stating, “It is very hard to offend me!” He leaned in to hear her more clearly.

“Are you gay?”, the question didn’t shock him. He was aware of his mannerisms and general aura. He had received this question before. He was more shocked she thought he’d be offended.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, are you bisexual?”

Now that was a bit jarring, he had been questioning that himself. It was never uncommon to be a few drinks in and for him to seek out and flirt with a male friend he found attractive, but he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about acting any of his flirtatious advances out. Sincerely he had been wondering just who to discuss these questions he had about himself with that same day. He hadn’t been able to come to anyone out of fear of being perceived as attention seeking. An outcome that would’ve never come, but an outcome his anxiety constantly reminded him of. This stranger was certainly not on the short list to say the least.

“Uhhhm, I’m not sure…”, Dan answered after some contemplation.

“Bi-curious then?”

“Maybe,”

“Like if you had enough drinks you would probably be?”

If I had enough drinks, we’d all meet a very different man.

“I guess- “, Dan found himself what he could most closely relate to an out of body experience. He saw himself face to face with this strange person in the dim light of the color changing lamp, while the amp filled the entire scene with electronic beats and rhythmic pulsing.

“I was just asking because of something you said earlier.”

Dan scrambled to think of the word he could’ve uttered to bring on this interrogation. To be honest he it could’ve been a litany of things he said. He was a liberal minded man after all. He himself was recently questioning himself on his heterosexuality, but he was too busy or kept himself distracted to put any serious thought into the matter. He was scarred. His pride wouldn’t allow himself to admit it, even to himself. His pride kept him preoccupied. Playing out his homosexual outburst as “displays of how secure in my heterosexuality I am.” He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fear, he shouldn’t be afraid there is nothing wrong with having sexual and emotional attraction to other men. That was something he long understood, so why was he afraid to admit to anyone- himself really that he might have them. The girl apologized, seeing clearly, she had stirred some hidden self-questioning up. Dan had always been told he had a very expressive face. He made a jest of the conversation to put the girl at ease and told her he’d she her around later. It was evident as she walked away, she was inquiring for someone interested in Dan. He swayed, checked his phone, and refilled his cup. Eventually he returned to the garage where the girl had walked off to. He noticed she exchanged glances with a young man. He wore his dark hair slicked back with some gel or pomade. From his left ear a silver six shooter pistol rocked, he wore a sky-blue t-shirt loosely tucked into sweatpants that had been cut into shorts. His chest was cover in a bouquet of flowers that decorated his shirt. Dan passed by and met his glace on his way to partake in a round of shots.

Dan exited the garage coughing. He returned to the den. The effects of the alcohol was taking its toll. He spread himself out on the couch that sat the wall opposite the sliding glass door. His host sat next to him as he slumped into an upright position to welcome her company. She informed him he was welcome to stay the night. He thanked her and they stayed there talking of the night. Eventually he awoke to the harsh sunlight flooding into the room through the sliding glass door. He did not recall receiving the blanket or pillow from his hosts. He gathered his belongings, allowed his eyes to adjust to the light, and without a word he exited the house. He had a week to start and a store to open after all.

#writing #writer #follow for short stories #short story #party #bi #based on real events #late night exercise #story #text #ameteur #first draft

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thesecretfandom · 5 years

Text

Wanderlust: Wed in Windermere - Bughead (Chapter 10)

Word Count: 5,446

Rated: M

A/N: This is the chapter I’ve been looking forward to writing from the very beginning. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! (Read on AO3)

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Betty and Jughead sat apart on the train ride to York. Two hours where they'd both convinced their friends to sit with them… to discuss important happenings.

"I know you guys weren't too hyped to go to York…" Betty started. It was a smaller city with less of a club scene than the other cities they'd been to. "But I have an idea that will make it really fun for all of us."

"Betty, please don't make me go on a walking tour of the city." Cheryl stared longingly out the window, and the rural scene passing them by.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Cher. Actually, I have some news, but you have to promise to not be loud about it."

"B, dear… I am an expert in keeping quiet in any situation, if you know what I mean."

"Seriously, V? Can we be serious for a second?" Betty took a breath, which was harder than she expected. The words didn't seem to want to come. "Jughead and I were talking last night…"

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Betty shot Cheryl a scathing look at that comment, and she retreated.

"We were talking about the future, and what happens next week when we have to go back home. Well, we decided that I would move out of my parents house and in with him. He had a studio in New York City and that's not that far from Riverdale anyway, and I was planning on moving there for school next year anyway so we'd just kind of speed up the timeline a little and…"

"Betty, you're rambling."

"Okay, so the point is… Jughead and I are eloping."

"What!?" They shouted in unison.

"Shh! I told you to be quiet about it."

"Well I didn't expect my sweet little Betty to just come out and say something like that. You're kidding, right?" Veronica was pink in the cheeks, eyes widened in shock.

"I'm not kidding." Her heart was still racing, but now that she'd let out the secret, one she'd only held for the last twelve hours, she felt like a weight was lifted. "I've never felt the way I do with him. I can't imagine being away from him, or being with anyone but him. I know it's right for us."

"I'm in." Veronica said.

"Me too." Cheryl seconded.

"Well it wasn't a vote, but thanks."

Betty went on to explain her plans for the next few days in York. She'd need a dress, rings, and… that seemed like everything. It was all she wanted for the simple affair. She hoped Jughead was having just as much luck with his friends.

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"Betty and I are getting married." Jughead said simply. He didn't want to drag on with an explanation when he knew Archie would have a thousand questions either way.

Archie and Reggie stared at him blankly for a moment, not fully absorbing or believing what he said.

"Wait, married?" Archie said. His eyebrows scrunched together. Jughead laughed inwardly at the familiar caterpillar look they had when he was thinking. "Like, for real? When?"

"Saturday."

"Like this Saturday?" Reggie cut in. "Dude, I need more than three days to plan an epic wedding dance."

"Reggie, let me just explain for a second." Jughead could already tell he was going to go overboard with whatever insane ideas were flying through his head. "This isn't like a normal wedding you're used to. We're eloping. There isn't going to be a party."

He looked disappointed at this.

"We'll go out for dinner afterward… yes you can have a few drinks, but please no rowdiness until Betty and I leave. You can get as drunk as you want after that."

"I have a question." Archie said, finally speaking again. He had his hand raised like a schoolboy asking a question of his teacher. "You can't actually get married here. Like, you aren't citizens and you don't have the correct papers from America to do it."

"You're thinking too hard. It's not going to be legally binding right away. We'll have the ceremony here and sign the papers when we get back to the States. It'll be kind of… symbolic."

"Sick." Reggie grinned. For all of his acting like a frat boy who doesn't give shit… this one word proved that he was actually genuinely happy for them. "So, which one of us will be your best man?"

"Oh that's easy… Archie."

"What!?" The shrill voices of Cheryl and Veronica carried over from the other end of the train.

"She just told them." Jughead grinned, peeking over and just catching a glimpse of his fiancés blonde ponytail flipping over her shoulder.

"Archie is always picked first…" Reggie pouted, no doubt thinking back to when Archie got team captain of the football team over him.

"To be fair… we have been friends since Kindergarten. You didn't even move to town until third grade and we weren't friends until high school."

"Still hurts bro."

"Don't worry, Reg. I have a very important job for you."

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Betty and Jughead reunited when the train pulled in to the station in York. When they'd made their way through the crowds on the platform, Betty left the group waiting by the ticket machines and put in their coffee order at the Costa. God knows she would be needing coffee to get through a day of simultaneous vacationing and impromptu wedding planning.

"Archie, coffee two sugars with milk. Reggie, chocolate frapp with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles." Betty handed each their drinks, thankful for the summer she spent working as a waitress. "Veronica, French roast one sugar. Cheryl, I don't have the time nor the energy to repeat your order. Jughead, coffee black."

"Thank you, my dear." He gratefully took he drink and kissed her cheek.

"Now that everyone is happy, let me lay out the plan." Betty took a sip of her coffee, strong and black like her fiancés. "Girls, we will be going shopping for a dress and then scout outfits for the boys. Boys, you are in charge of procuring rings."

"Size six and a half." Jughead recited.

"I've trained you well." Betty wrapped her arm around his waist as they started the short walk into the heart of the city. Their bed and breakfast sat tucked in a quaint residential area just outside the walls of the city. Everyone dropped their bags in their rooms and regrouped outside, all eager to have a mission.

It wasn't long before they could see York Minster poking out above the buildings. The massive church took up so much space, Betty thought there couldn't possibly be room for a city behind it. Jughead had already taken his camera out of its case, capturing the beauty of the building in the midmorning light.

"We'll meet back here at noon then get lunch and do the touristy stuff." Betty smiled up at Jughead and gave his hand a tight squeeze. "I'll see you soon. Love you, fiancé."

"Love you too, fiancé." Jughead kissed her lips before her friends pulled her off toward the shops. Betty tossed a wave and a sweet smile over her shoulder.

The streets were paved with cobblestones, and each building grew larger with each story added. The tops of the buildings seemed to be reaching out toward each other, creating a tunnel-like path through the city. A bridal shop was squeezed into one of the small business spaces.

"Oh my God." Veronica squealed.

"What?" Betty stepped forward toward the shop.

"Your face just lit up. You are literally glowing, you blushing bride you…" Veronica squeezed her tight. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, V. Me too."

"Let's stop standing around." Cheryl complained as she pulled on Betty's wrist. "Let's get shopping!"

As it turned out, Thursday mornings weren't incredibly busy for a bridal shops and they only shared it with one other bride who was there with her mother and grandmother. Cheryl had already picked out the three most expensive dresses in the shop before Betty had finished talking to the consultant.

"So we were hoping you had some dresses that could be sold off the rack." Betty finished explaining, following the news that the wedding was in two days.

"We do have a few older designs for sale. You must understand that for clearance items there are no returns and no alterations with us. The dress comes as is."

"Completely understood." Betty grinned. "Can we see them?"

"Absolutely."

They were led over to a small rack of clearance marked dresses. Cheryl pouted at the clearly less stylish dresses. Regardless, she picked a few of her favorites as Veronica did as well and they sent her off to the fitting room.

"No, no…" Cheryl shook her head when Betty came out in the first dress. A strapless mermaid, with lace overlaid from the waist down and gemstones sewn onto the bodice. "That one makes your butt look flat… and your ass is one of your greatest features. "

Cheryl turned down every one of the dresses she tried on. Usually, Betty would have thought her standards were much too high, but for once Betty agreed. Not one of them felt quite right. And none felt right at the other two bridal shops they stopped at. Every dress, with its silk and gems and the straight out of a magazine look… it was all too bridal. They were all too ceremonial, and not romantic in the slightest. They weren't right.

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

Reggie and Archie were not making this easy. Between teasing Jughead about being a lovesick puppy and making rude and suggestive gestures regarding the wedding night, he was really considering ditching them completely.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, bro… but the sex must be good. Otherwise she definitely would not marry you so quick."

"Reggie, you have such a way with words. I wonder how any woman could possibly deny you."

"I know you're being sarcastic, but I'll have you know that no woman I've ever wanted has denied me." Reggie raised his hand for Archie to high five, but Archie just shook his head. "Anyway, you didn't deny it, so the sex must be good."

"Not that it's your business, but yes." Jughead didn't look either of them in the eye, instead focusing on the jewelry store at the end of the block. "And that is certainly not the only reason she loves me. I happen to have a great personality."

"There's that sarcasm again."

"Okay, Reggie… can you just shut your stupid pie hole for two seconds?"

"Sure thing, Groomzilla."

Jughead showed him his middle finger before leading the way into the jewelry store. He knew upon walking in that everything would be too expensive.

"Can I help you men find anything in particular today?" The man behind the counter was dressed in a full suit and tie. Another sign that his budget would not fit here.

"We're actually looking for wedding rings, or any rings I guess." Jughead peeked into the nearest case, diamond bracelets.

"Are you proposing? In that case we have some gorgeous engagement rings I can show you."

"Actually, my girlfriend and I are eloping. I wondered if maybe you had anything on the less expensive end. They don't have to be wedding rings specifically."

"I will pull out some options for you." He disappeared into a back room, returning only a few moments later. "For the lucky lady I've got some smaller diamonds, or white sapphire if you want a larger gem."

"Is that the price?" Jughead asked.

"Yes, will that be a problem?"

"I'm sorry. I don't think I can afford anything here." Jughead found the other two boys staring at a case full of gold plated watch bands. "Guys, I think we need to go."

There weren't many jewelry stores in this older part of town. Most of the businesses were cafés, boutiques, or chocolate shops. Besides, after seeing the prices of the cheap jewelry, he doubted any legitimate jewelry store would be within his and Betty's agreed upon budget. They were going to need to get creative.

At 11:30, Jughead stopped in his tracks as his stomach let out a loud grumble. They had just so happened to start walking through York's famous Shambles, a relatively narrow street where the buildings grew so close at the top you would be able to shake hands with your neighbor just through the window. Scents of delicious food were pouring out of various small restaurants.

"I am not going to survive another half an hour without food." Jughead complained, making a b-line for a nearby pie shop. Fruit pies, meat pies, any kind of pie he could dream of was there. He didn't want to spoil his appetite for his real lunch, not that he wasn't at least a little hungry all the time, so he only ordered one Sheppard's pie to stave off the beast that seemed to be living inside his stomach at the moment.

He and the other boys ate their pre-lunch while they walked back to York Minster. Jughead felt defeated. Two hours searching for two rings and he couldn't even handle that. Betty had probably found her dress, as well as dresses for the other two girls and outfits for the three men as well. She was efficient that way.

As if by magic, as the twelfth chime rang out to mark the hour, the girls game around on the sidewalk to the left of the church as the boys came from the right side.

"You don’t have any bags?" Jughead asked when they met in front of the church. Betty fell immediately into his chest, both arms squeezing around his waist and her head fitting into the space beneath his chin. "Miss me?"

"Eloping wasn't supposed to be difficult. I know I don't need a white dress, but I really want one."

"Then you'll have one." Jughead kissed the hair at the top of her head, then pushed back her shoulders. "But first, lunch."

"You started without me." She said with a smile. "I can smell the food on your breath."

"Yeah well, you know me." He linked his hand with hers as they returned to their friends.

"Yeah… I know you."

Jughead thought the way she said that sounded a lot like 'I love you,' and maybe that's what she actually meant.

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

A unanimous decision for pizza was made, and they found themselves ordering two large pizzas at a Pizza Hut. On more than one occasion Betty found herself wiping pizza sauce from Jughead's chin. There was something ridiculously domestic about the action, as if this was something she would still be doing fifty years from now.

"So I got us all tickets for the Chocolate Story." Betty said when they'd left the restaurant. "It's scheduled for two thirty, so I thought we could go for a scenic walk on the wall and see how far around we can go."

"Sure thing." "Sounds great." Her friends sounded off their agreements. Even Archie and Reggie smiled and followed along without comment as Betty led them toward the nearest stairway leading up to the top of the wall surrounding the older part of the city.

"Is it just me," Betty started, when they were out of earshot of the others, "Or are they being uncharacteristically agreeable today?"

"It's not just you." Jughead replied lips moving close to her ear. His breath sent shivers down her spine. "It is our wedding week, after all. They're required to be nice to us."

They only made it halfway around the wall, stopping at each corner tower to take pictures of York Minster from a new angle. For once, they all walked in silence. Each of the six friends taking in the views and, no doubt, thinking about how all of their lives would be changed forever in these next few days.

The trees were bright green in the midday light, creating a tunnel over them as they walked over the stonework. It was cool in the shade of the trees, and the breeze was heavier at this height. Betty shivered against the cold, pulling her cardigan snug around her body. Jughead shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around Betty's shoulder before wrapping his arm around her and holding her. His body radiated warmth and she immediately melted into his embrace.

Jughead's hand squeezed Betty's waist and he showed her the time on his watch. 1:45.

"We should probably head to the next activity." He said.

Betty nodded, finding directions on her phone as they moved down the stairs back to street level. The Chocolate Story was not a far walk, situated in the main shopping district. They arrived twenty minutes early for their tour, and had the chance to take a quick tour of the gift shop ahead of time.

The tour guide announced that the next tour would be starting and they all made their way to a large elevator. Three floors and many samples later, they emerged once more into the gift shop. Something caught Jughead's eye before they left.

"Hey, Betts. I think I found our rings." He grabbed two plastic rings with chocolate diamonds on the top.

Betty held out her left hand to him and allowed him to slide the ring on.

"It's perfect." Betty kissed his cheek and they bought the rings. "I can't wait to marry you."

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Day turned into night and they found themselves at an Italian restaurant for dinner. A large round table with a family style meal at the center. Glasses of wine filled to the brim and a full basket of breadsticks had everyone in a great mood.

After they had all dished up lasagna and were well on their way to being wine drunk, Jughead and Betty stood up to speak.

"So, I think now is a good time to say a few things. Since we won't exactly be having an engagement party, we wanted to thank you all for supporting us with this huge life change." Betty said. "And I'm so glad the four of you get to be part of the big day."

"Actually," Reggie started. "I don't know what exactly I'm doing."

"Ah, yes. You have a very important job." Jughead said. "So we all know that Archie and Veronica will be best man and maid of honor. Cheryl, we'd love if you would officiate."

Cheryl nodded smugly. "I promise I will say only nice things."

"And Reggie. I am trusting you with what may be the most important thing in my life." Betty elbowed him. "Second most important thing. Reggie, I want you to be the official wedding photographer."

Reggie stared, his mouth falling open slightly in shock. "Seriously? You would trust me with your camera?"

"For this instance, yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, you know how to make things look good."

Reggie stood suddenly and immediately wrapped his arms around Jughead. "I knew you liked me, dude."

"Okay okay… that's enough." Jughead pulled away. "And now that all of that is out of the way… let's eat!"

The meal left them exhausted, and they had an early night in. Fast approaching the end of their trip, they were all exhausted enough to fall immediately asleep back at the bed and breakfast. Betty fell asleep first, her head resting on Jughead's chest as he brushed her hair with his fingers. Jughead followed soon after, falling into a restful slumber with the slightest of smiles on his face.

"Can we just stay in bed forever?" Betty said the next morning. She'd been awake for fifteen minutes, curled happily in Jughead's arms, before he stirred and pulled her closer.

"I wish we could," Jughead yawned. "But we have a wedding to prepare for."

Betty sighed, but knew he was right. "I was thinking maybe I don't need a dress. Let's just hang out and enjoy our last day in York."

Jughead leaned in to catch her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. "As you wish."

They stayed in bed for another forty-five minutes before they got dressed and ventured into the lobby where they ordered a full English breakfast. Before long they were back on the narrow, winding streets of York. It seemed in this city, all roads lead back to the church. With the six of them together, they were able to get group pricing on admission, and toured the grand building.

"I'm just saying, I could marry you guys right here right now." Cheryl said for the third time since they'd entered the building.

"And I'm just saying," Betty replied. "I don't want to get married in a church. We chose the Lake District for a reason. You'll understand when we get there."

"Speaking of which, what time is our train tonight?" Veronica asked.

"Five o'clock. I booked an Airbnb in Windermere and it's right on the lake." Betty thought she'd probably already told them this, but then again her mind has been on other things lately.

"Well, I think I want to head back to the bed and breakfast and pack up. I don't think I can do any more walking today."

"I'm going back too." Cheryl said, looping her arm with Veronica's.

The men shrugged but would obviously would be following them back.

"We'll meet you at four o'clock to head to the train station." Betty waved them off and returned to her fiancé's side.

"And then there were two." He said, his arm coming around her shoulder.

Betty kissed him, but didn't speak as they started walking back into the shopping district. It was busy, with both tourists and locals moving through the many small shops. Betty had given up on finding a dress, but when they passed a boutique with a white dress in the window, she couldn't help but look.

"Can we go in?"

"Please don't tell me you fell in love with a dress on the mannequin."

"I did not fall in love." Betty argued. "I just like it and want to see if they have my size."

As it turned out, they did have her size. She modeled the dress for Jughead… ignoring all superstitions. The lace dress fell just past her knee, with sleeves reaching to her elbows.

"That's the one." Jughead said from where he sat on a small stool next to the three way mirror.

"Really?" Betty smiled. "I just… I never imagines myself in a dress like this."

"Betts, that's the one." He walked over to stand behind her so they both stared back into the mirror. "You have not stopped smiling since you saw it and you look fucking gorgeous."

"What are you going to wear?" She asked tearfully, smoothing down the dress with just the tips of her fingers.

"Oh I found this while I was waiting." He held out a grey button up shirt, sleeves rolled to elbow length.

"I can't believe this is really happening." Betty turned to fully fall into his embrace.

"I also found footwear and possibly some rings." Jughead said when Betty returned to the fitting room to change her clothes. "This store is legitimately a godsend."

Jughead led her to a different section of the store, where rain boots were lined up. A bright pink pair stood at the forefront, and while Betty reached for them Jughead found his size in a plain black pair. The rings were near the register, made of silver but with no gem. They found an almost matching pair, made up of silver swirls in a Celtic design. The clerk bagged up their items and Jughead handed over his credit card.

It was three o'clock by the time they left the shop.

"You ready to go?" Jughead asked.

"Yeah, next stop… wedding venue."

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

Their Airbnb in Windermere had only two rooms, and they'd split up the couples for the night. It was Veronica's request that Betty and Jughead not spend the night together. Though they would not be able to avoid seeing each other before the ceremony the next day, they would hold to this one tradition for the night before

"Good morning, bride." Veronica had been cuddling Betty all night. She squeezed her in a tight hug before rolling out of the double bed they had shared. "Are you ready to get married?"

"Very ready if it means my days of sharing a bed with you are over."

"I am astonished at you Betty Cooper."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't rather be in bed with someone else…" Betty rolled over to watch Veronica as she ran around the room arranging the girls outfits with their shoes and jewelry.

"Today, there's nowhere I'd rather be than getting you ready for your wedding." Veronica came back to sit on the side of the bed. She took Betty's cheeks in her hands and planted a big, wet kiss on her forehead. "You are going to be the most gorgeous bride."

"Thanks, V." Betty finally let her friend pull her out of bed and toward the attached bathroom. "Where's Cher?"

"Oh, I sent her with Jughead to get flowers."

"You sent Cheryl and Jughead together? By themselves?"

"Yes, not my smartest idea to be fair. But they were both feeling a bit antsy and I really needed them to take their nervous energy elsewhere."

Veronica already had her makeup brushes and accompanying makeup set up across the bathroom counter, and the curling iron already hot. Veronica kept the look simple, to match with the dress and outdoor venue. The forecast had a low possibility of rain later in the afternoon, but Veronica used her best waterproof makeup regardless.

A knock came to the bedroom door. "You girls almost ready? Time's a wastin'!"

"We need twenty more minutes, Archiekins." Veronica replied. "Just need to get dressed. Send Cheryl in."

Cheryl slid through the door and immediately grabbed her dress where it was hanging in the closet. All black lace and skin tight, it was a fitting statement for her role in the wedding. Veronica had found one bright pink dress buried deep in her suitcase. She very rarely wore such bright colors, but insisted that since it matched Betty's boots it was the official color of the wedding.

Betty stood in front of the mirror in her own dress. Her curls fell just to her shoulders, her lips and fingernails a matching shade of pink. Veronica came up behind her holding her boots.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They took a short taxi ride to Rydal, where they found the start of their hike. Betty and Jughead led the group through the trees and up steep hills until they saw the Rydal Caves loom up ahead of them. Jughead was still wearing his camera around his neck and lifted it to his eye. Fog was settling over the lake and had begun to creep up the hillside.

"That will hang on our wall when we get home." He said.

"Isn't it time you handed over the camera to Reggie?" Betty asked when they finally reached the entrance of the cave.

Jughead stared fondly at the camera, but did eventually hook the strap around Reggie's neck. "Take care of him for me."

"Come on, boys." Cheryl took the arms of Jughead and Reggie. "You too Archie."

Cheryl took the boys about fifteen feet away, stopping in front of a large boulder just outside the cave. Veronica took Betty's hands in her own. Her eyes already showed evidence of tears building up.

"You look amazing." She said, pulling Betty in for a hug. "Now let's go get you married before the rain starts."

Veronica nodded to Cheryl, who positioned the boys and started playing Canon in D on her phone. Betty hooked her arm through Veronica's as they walked the short distance. Betty was vaguely aware of the camera clicking, but had grown so used to having her picture taken that she paid no attention to it. Instead, all she saw was Jughead standing with his hands clasped in front of him.

Betty passed her flowers to Veronica and took Jughead's hands in her own. She already felt the tears precariously caught on her lower lid. Jughead reached up and caught the tear before it could fall.

"We are gathered here today, to witness the joining of two souls in marriage, Betty and Jughead." Cheryl started. "Betty, I've known you for seventeen years, since we were preschool together… and Jughead I've only known you for five and half weeks. I think by now, we all know each other pretty well by now. One thing you probably know about me is that I tend to focus a lot on myself and not concern myself with other people's life. Well, despite that… I have noticed the two of you growing closer since the start of this thing."

Betty laughed, remembering how Cheryl had been the first to realize the two of them were together.

"Jughead, you couldn't have picked a better lady to make you happy. And Betty, you couldn't have picked a more loyal man to take care of you for the rest of your lives. I really hope you wrote your own vows."

"I'll go first, because otherwise I'll cry through the whole thing." Betty said. "I did write something last night, but now it just doesn't feel quite right. Jughead, I love you in a way that I can't even understand. From the day we met all you wanted to do was make me happy, and it worked out so beautifully that you were always what made me happy. Even in all of the amazing places we've been, you were always what made it great. I look forward to the future, knowing that you will continue make my life amazing from now on."

By now, Betty had tears falling fully down her cheeks. Jughead pulled her into a tight hug and held her until the tears subsided.

"I'm fine, I'm fine… your turn." She said tearfully. "Before I start crying again."

"Okay…" Jughead took a breath, finding it difficult to find his voice. "I loved you from the first day I saw you. I was truly terrified of my feelings because I had never felt that way before. You are so caring, strong, and beautiful. You said before that you are happy when you're with me, well you're my happy place too. I can't believe a girl like you could fall for a guy like me. But I'm so glad you did."

Betty couldn't help the soft sob that fell from her lips.

"Don't you cry, Betts." Jughead wiped her cheeks again. "It's taking everything I have to keep my tears in my eyes."

"If you're finished with your vows, we'll move on to the rings." Cheryl said. The light pitter patter of rain could be heard on the lake and a few drops landed on their arms. "Archie, the rings."

Archie produced the rings from his inner pocket.

"Betty, do you take Jughead to be your husband?"

"I do." She replied, sliding the ring onto Jughead's finger.

"Jughead, do you take Betty to be your wife?"

"I do." He slipped the ring onto her delicate finger, but didn't let go of her hand.

"Without further ado, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs…" She paused. "Wait, are we hyphenating or-"

"Jones." Betty finished. Jughead glanced at her. They hadn't discussed it, but he'd assumed they'd hyphenate or keep their own names. "I want to take your name."

"Mr. and Mrs. Jones." Cheryl finished. "Jughead, you may now kiss your bride."

As soon as their lips touched, the sky opened up and poured down on them. Neither Jughead or Betty pulled away as they were drenched. Instead, Jughead's arms only wrapped around her tighter as he deepened the kiss. His first kiss with his wife had to memorable, even if it meant being soaked from head to toe.

Finally, when Jughead's shirt was fully clinging to his body and Betty shivered under his touch, he pulled away. Betty noticed their friends had disappeared. She turned toward the cave to see them hiding from the rain, but still watching as Betty and Jughead ignored the weather around them.

Betty turned back to Jughead, her lips brushing ever so lightly over his own. "I love you."

"I love you too." Jughead's hand moved up behind her neck and pulled her lips fully back to his. "I love you so fucking much."

Betty laughed into the kiss and held him tight, knowing her life would forever be filled with moments as amazing as these.

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

A/N: Only two chapters left to go! Please let me know what you think! What should they do on their honeymoon? Other than the obvious, of course.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale au #edit #wanderlust fic

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beca-mitchell · 6 years

Text

like a stranger to impress

summary: Beca meets Chloe’s parents, formally. Well, as formal as possible, all things considered. Pre-PP3.

Angst-o-meter: high. You’ve been warned.

Song lyrics are from “Cain” by EXES.

word count: 2986

chapters: 1/1

Beca has never quite perfected her handshake. She spent more time in her youth fixated on her laptop and the way her fingers could fly across her keys in order to create music. She could feel the ebbs of anger and pain leave her body - even if it was temporary - with every measure and downbeat.

Growing up, Beca wants to avoid pain as much as she can, but it’s only because she recognizes that pain is only ever followed by the harsh reality and consequence of her own actions.

It’s why the pain she feels when her father leaves is so jarring because all she thinks is that she did something completely unforgivable. Something so heinous that the idea of unconditional love no longer exists in her world.

So, she never quite perfects her handshake because there aren’t many people that she needs to interact with closely anyway. She’s content with just her music, her laptop, and herself. And even then, she’s not sure that this particular trifecta is one hundred percent reliable.

In the room that we were almost lovers

Chloe jokes about Beca meeting her parents occasionally. It happens on and off while they’re at Barden - though Chloe mentions it more generally to their group at large. She mentions that her parents would love to house some Bellas for the summers if they’d like to travel to Portland with her.

They never take her up on it and Chloe always goes home for a few weeks during the summer. Beca recalls that she tried not to miss her too much, which proved difficult as the years trickled on.

Closer to present time, Beca can isolate pockets of time where they’re lying in their shared Brooklyn bed - the bed they picked out together - and Chloe will tease Beca about getting handsy. In Beca’s defense, she had only been cuddling into Chloe for warmth.

“I mean,” Chloe drawls on those evenings and mornings, “there are rules about this kind of stuff, you know?”

Beca huffs, but the smell of Chloe’s perfume and the heady fabric softener maker her less prickly. “And what rules are those?”

“Should I bring you home to meet my parents? We’re moving pretty fast here.”

(Beca, since third year, has remembered to send Chloe’s parents a quick message, detailing that she’d love to meet them one day. They always send a huge box of snacks and non-perishable foods to the Bella house under Chloe’s direction. Beca is grateful.

For the snacks.

And Chloe, of course.)

To quip back, Beca musters up a quick pass of her lizard-cold feet against Chloe’s shins and grins a little at the yelp. It’s not her fault the heating is on the fritz again and Chloe’s all Beca has.

It’s pretty permanent, this feeling. Chloe is Beca’s everything for about six and a half years.

I could feel, I could feel you there

Beca has always loved Chloe in some capacity. It’s nothing new, the loving part. It’s easy to love Chloe. Beca figures anybody could make the same assessment. Even Lilly would probably raise her voice to tell somebody how much she adores Chloe.

The slow transition from loving Chloe to additionally being in love with Chloe built up over time - perhaps too long of a time period. Beca welcomes it tentatively because those first ebbs of love kind of sneak up on her one day.

It’s seeing Chloe in their tiny kitchen, somehow wide awake at 7:30 a.m. and she’s already singing. Alternating between singing and humming and making sure the pancakes she’s churning out are evenly sized.

On that particular Saturday morning, Beca forgets why she doesn’t normally wake up early on weekends because seeing Chloe engulfed in sunshine and radiance is somehow the only thing she ever wants to see on every Saturday from then onwards.

So, loving Chloe is easy, even if Aubrey would probably point out that Beca resisted it so heavily the first time she met Chloe.

Conversely, Beca thinks that being in love with Chloe is her personal hell.

She tries not to think about the way Chloe’s hands flail when she’s excited. She tries not to think about the ridiculous short pyjama shorts Chloe wears to bed and the equally appealing button-up top she wears.

Beca tries to quell the unmistakable pride and sheer love she feels when Chloe dons her scrubs for a day at work. Or when Chloe hums while she prepares for her weekend volunteering at the soup kitchen.

Beca pretends that nothing has changed even though every passing day is just another missed opportunity, and another day that Beca tortures herself with dreams and ideal scenarios that she never brings to fruition because she’s scared that she might lose Chloe.

Despite it all, Beca will never complain aloud about being in love with Chloe. She lets Fat Amy rib her for letting her gaze linger. She lets Aubrey snort and cackle when she calls asking what Chloe’s favourite soup to drink is when she’s sick. She lets Chloe stare at her curiously when Beca pecks her on the cheek on the way out of the apartment. She lets Chloe stare at her contemplatively.

But neither of them crack, which is reflective of their entire time at Barden, Beca supposes.

Loving Chloe is easy. Being in love with Chloe is even easier.

Being in love with Chloe is the hardest thing she’s ever done.

“I somehow think my parents would love teasing you,” Chloe tells her through a mouthful of chips. Beca does her best not to stare at the crumbs adorning Chloe’s face and fingers. Beca does her best not to point out that the only person with something worth teasing at the moment would be Chloe and her messy, childlike way of eating.

“Really?” Beca says instead.

“Yes.” Chloe nods confidently. “You’re so...Beca.”

Beca loves these particular interactions. She selfishly hoards them and exaggerates her prickliness during these moments because Chloe’s eyes light up when she’s teasing Beca. She loves the way Chloe’s eyes catch whatever light passes through the room. She loves the way Chloe’s eyes are unforgivingly vibrant.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Beca mutters, turning back to her laptop. She’s been inspired recently by songs about being in love and songs about love in general.

Chloe laughs and brushes off her crumbs into the sink. She then wanders over to Beca and props her chin on top of her head, peaking over at her screen. “What are you working on?” she asks quietly.

“Just...something,” Beca answers evasively. “Some songs I heard on my Spotify recommendations.”

Chloe’s fingers dig into her shoulders before her arms drape over them lazily. “Anything good?” Chloe asks, genuinely curious and genuinely eager.

Beca huffs and tries to ignore the way her own heart pounds as she reaches up to touch Chloe’s hand. “I’ll forward them to you,” she promises, making a mental note of the playlist she’s going to send Chloe that night.

She’ll try not to be too obvious about her song selections.

Chloe hasn’t opened the email.

I could feel...

It’s dumb, really. Beca stares at her shaking hands because she’s about to meet Chloe’s parents for the first time.

She can almost hear Chloe’s voice right in her ear, reminding her that it’s her mother with the strong handshake and her father who’s the hugger. Then she sees in her mind a wink that kind of suggests she’s lying and is just setting Beca up for failure.

She fumbles with the snap on her purse, letting it fall back against her thigh uselessly. She resists calling Chloe’s phone again just to hear her voicemail message.

(”Hi! This is Chloe Beale and not Beca or Amy if you were around to hear my last voicemail message. If you’re hearing this, well I succeeded in changing my voicemail and you’ve just missed me! But don’t worry, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. We both win.”

Beca stares blankly at Chloe when she lowers the phone from her ear. “That’s ridiculous. Nobody is going to listen to that all the way through.”

Chloe grins. “But it’s cute, right? You think it’s cute. I can tell.”

Beca doesn’t lie to Chloe. She can’t. She grins back. “Yeah, it’s adorable.”)

Looking up, she contemplates which seat to take. Would it be presumptuous to sit beside either of Chloe’s parents? She’s not sure what protocol is, especially not when -

There isn’t even an opportunity for a hospital visit. There isn’t room for the dramatics of a long period in a waiting room, anxiously awaiting news.

There’s just…nothing. A house visit from a police officer notifying her that Chloe is goneand that the bag he’s holding contains her personal belongings.

Nothing.

Beca numbly recalls making it to the trashcan in their kitchen, but she thinks that there wasn’t even anything to throw up. There’s nothing left in her.

It feels like someone's taken a wrecking ball to Beca's chest. It hurts—physically hurts—when she empties the bag. Chloe’s things tumble out onto the table. A bracelet, her phone, her favourite thumb ring, her wallet, and identification pass for the clinic.

Beca feels like she’s been split in half. Beca feels like she’s been torn apart because Chloe has been as well.

There’s nothing. Not even the reassurance of a heartrate monitor or tearful confessions to Chloe’s lifeless body. Beca doesn’t get to hear the beeping of Chloe’s heart and she doesn’t get to think of it as the most beautiful sound she has ever heard.

She hears nothing.

She listens to music for the way the beats match up. She listens for potential.

But she can pinpoint the first time she heard music and felt it reverberate through her soul. Settling somewhere in her heart, she remembers the way she felt something akin to pain when Chloe sang to her for the first time.

Something akin to pain, and yet...

She feels light whenever she hears Chloe’s voice. Heard.

Had heard.

The first and last time she heard anything worth remembering was Chloe’s voice, like a soothing lullaby.

“Beca,” Aubrey’s voice sounds in her ear.

“I...yeah,” she mutters. She looks up and realizes she’s been standing just off to the side from the seats set up. Portland is quite beautiful, Beca thinks. Living in Seattle, she never quite managed to take the trip down with her parents.

(”Thinking of going back home for the summer before New York?” Beca asks.

“Hm, maybe,” Chloe says lightly. There’s something in her eyes as she watches Beca contemplatively. “Depends. What are your plans?”

“Just trying to figure some stuff out,” Beca manages to say, meeting Chloe’s eyes.

Chloe takes a breath at that and when she exhales, a smile sneaks onto her face. “Same, honestly.”)

She never quite managed to take the trip with Chloe.

Somewhere in her mind, Beca has pockets of scenarios where she meets Chloe’s parents for the first time. They usually all involve her and Chloe living and working in Los Angeles or somewhere else in California. These now-alternate timelines see Beca finally shaking Chloe’s parents’ hands with confidence and assuring them Chloe is being taken care of. That Chloe is happy. That Chloe will always be happy onwards.

Instead, she sees the black and white story laid out in front of her (it’s difficult to see in colour these days because light was so harshly ripped from her life): Chloe’s parents huddled in the front row, looking despondent and engulfed in despair.

None of this is how Beca envisions seeing them for the first time, let alone meeting them.

“Do you want to say anything to them?” Aubrey asks quietly.

“I...I don’t know,” Beca whispers. “I think so, but I don’t know if...”

“You know Chloe would want you to.”

It’s probably the first time Aubrey has said Chloe’s name aloud since she learned of the accident.

All Beca sees when she closes her eyes is a medley of blood-streaked skin, crushed metal, and the flashing of the ambulance, police car, and fire truck – all of which meant nothing then and mean nothing now.

It’s what she imagines, anyway, because she hadn’t been there.

She wasn’t there at exactly 4:35 p.m. on a sunny Tuesday in June. She hadn’t been at the Canal Street and Allen Street intersection.

She hadn’t been there.

She wonders briefly – only briefly because it makes her chest cave in if she lingers on the thought - if Chloe was conscious at all during or after the accident. The pain she imagines manifests in a physical, visceral reaction in Beca whenever she thinks about it. However, it’s all she has left. She absorbs it because it’s the only way she can feel anything anymore.

Selfishly – it’s only selfish because it brings her some peace, just the possibility – but –

She wonders if Chloe thought of her.

Beca doesn't sleep anymore.

Sitting on uncomfortable plastic seats, somehow being corralled into sitting next to Chloe’s mother, Beca listens to the minister reflect on the meaning of life, on the beauty of an individual person, and how short life really is. Despite it all being quite beautiful, Beca cries, mostly in shame, guilt, and anger. The feelings are not quite reflective of reality, but she cries because all she feels then is pain and it overwhelms her. It settles somewhere deep in her chest and spreads through her veins like poison.

She cries quietly and tries not to think of everything that he’s missing out on. He doesn’t talk about the way Chloe cared about everybody and everything, even apologizing to inanimate objects. She cries because he doesn’t talk about how Chloe hugged people like it would be the last time she ever saw them. He doesn’t talk about what it meant, being in love with Chloe Beale and realizing that she’d never get the opportunity to tell her because she let every single opportunity pass by.

She cries and tries to hide it because it feels embarrassing on some level, to cry in front of Chloe’s parents and everybody who has ever cared about Chloe in some capacity.

It’s stupid, she thinks, because Chloe would brush her tears aside - just once - and probably tell her that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel pain. It’s okay to feel and -

Chloe’s mother gently places a hand on her forearm. Beca jolts, looking up in concern, but Chloe’s mother isn’t looking at her. She has the same devastated expression on her face, but she looks forward, determined. Her hand curls around Beca’s forearm before she’s sliding her hand down to hold her hand.

Pain explodes in Beca’s chest, then.

Beca considers hand-holding as an extremely intimate form of expressing oneself.

She has held hands with only five people in her life.

Her mother, father, Jesse, Chloe.

And now, Chloe’s mother.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, the sun shines brightly and the skies are clear. There’s a gentle glow around.

On this particular Saturday, Beca stands in front of Chloe’s parents and tries to look them in the eye.

“You’re Beca, right?” Chloe’s father, Scott, asks.

“Yeah. Yes,” she corrects, blushing. It feels trivial, exchanging names when her world has ended.

“She talked about you a lot, did you know that?” Chloe’s mother, Grace adds.

“That’s...” Beca nods, swallowing. “I’m...I’m sorry, I’m not sure h-how to-” And she breaks again, gesturing with her hands like she’s not sure if she should formally shake their hands.

Instead, they make the decision for her and engulf her in a hug. It’s a warm hug, filled with love. It’s not painful, not quite.

Beca sobs, feels an answering quiver from the shoulder she’s pressed against. Confessions spill from her lips then:

“I never told her. I should have told her. I was going to, I swear. I loved her, so much.”

Pulling back, Scott places a hand on Grace’s shoulder while Grace holds Beca firmly at arms length. “I know,” she says quietly with strength. “I know.”

“You know?” Beca parrots. The sun’s setting, casting a beautiful orange, pink glow now. “You-you-”

“Chloe knew. Or at least, on some level, she did. I promise,” Grace whispers. “Thank you for making her the happiest I have ever seen her.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Beca whimpers. Because she didn’t. She was too scared, too slow.

“You did everything. I promise.”

The pain her veins slows a little. Her heart seems to slowly piece itself back together. She doesn’t doubt the honesty in the eyes in front of her - Chloe’s eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Beca.”

And they turn – father and mother, husband and wife – away, out of Beca’s life for the first time and the last time. Beca feels her resolve slipping with every step, the resolve she holds on to so desperately every day that passes where she lives in a world without Chloe Beale. Every step that Chloe’s parents take, they carry a piece of Beca with them, so she is helpless and remiss to do anything else but watch them walk away with finality. It’s like watching her past and reality finally merge and everything leaves her at once. She doesn’t bother stumbling into a chair, instead chooses to lean heavily against the closest tree.

Heavy, heavy, heavy...

The woman and her parents are gone. Gone. Gone.

And Beca remains.

Twisting slightly, she can see the freshly placed dirt and the scattered flowers. There isn’t even a tombstone yet – nothing for Beca to trace physically with her fingers. Nothing physical for her to use as an anchor. She supposes waiting five to six months won’t even matter because the only thing that ever mattered is buried under layers of dirt.

Chloe’s gone.

Beca doesn’t plan on returning.

I...

...could feel you.

posted on ao3 as well.

#bechloe #mine #beca mitchell #chloe beale #angst #sorry #fanfiction #my fanfic #pitch perfect #pp3 #pre-pp3 #anna kendrick #brittany snow #like a stranger to impress #bechloe fanfiction

253 notes · View notes

sending-the-message · 6 years

Text

Never Buy Cheap Computers on Craigslist (Update 2) by 2017Interloper

Part 1

Part 2

I apologize for the length of time between updates. I have had a hard time trying to figure out how to coherently explain the rest of what happened, because things have gotten really, really bizarre. I will do my best.

I’ll pick up about a week ago, or has it been two? I can’t seem to recall. It had been about a week since the incident with Alex, and Dan, and Sheila, anyway. Alex hadn’t been to work since. She had been spending most of her days in bed. I hadn’t known what to say to her. I had peeked my head in the door to make sure she was all right on a few different occasions. Each time, she was either sleeping, or staring out the window. What little interaction I had with her was limited to short, clipped, two- or three-word sentences. I had been sleeping on the couch, and Alex didn’t ask about it. I’m not even sure she noticed.

I don’t remember much about those days, other than a lingering feeling that something was wrong – a feeling that had been growing stronger with every passing day. It was markedly worse when I was at home. Work and school provided me with a ready excuse to avoid being there too often, and to avoid having to talk to Alex about anything. I went through the motions each day, perhaps showing up ten (or thirty) minutes earlier than usual, for about a week. In between work and class, I went on campus to work on anything I could find to do in the school library. If nothing else, I will be getting stellar marks at the end of the semester, with all of the extra studying, and the extra time I spent on my assignments. I hadn’t even looked at my laptop since the night of the incident.

The previous day, I ran out of things to work on in the library. It was Saturday, and probably the first time in my entire life I had been that caught up on schoolwork. I had even looked at the syllabus for one of my classes, and started working on an assignment the professor didn’t plan to introduce until the following week, but I hit a wall and gave up. I got in the car, and took the longest, most roundabout route home that I could find. I stopped at the store and picked up some coffee, toilet paper and other things we’d surely need more of at some point. I went to the gas station at the other side of town, where gas was two cents per gallon cheaper than everywhere else, and filled up my car’s gas tank. Finally, having run out of excuses not to, I went back home. I waited until I heard Alex go into the bathroom to go grab a pair of my PJ pants out of the dresser. I changed by the washing machine in the kitchen, found a marathon of “Gold Rush” on TV, and settled in for the night.

On Sunday, without work and school to distract me from my personal life, I could feel the weight of the situation crushing me. I had been using my push-button-in-case-of-emergency coping skills the only way I knew how: I had ignored the problem, and hoped it all went away. It hadn’t. I had willed something awful into existence, and eventually, I needed to man up and face my girlfriend. I decided to look for my laptop. Maybe there would be some answers there. Isn’t that always what we do when life is falling apart? Turn on the computer? I went into the living room and looked under the coffee table. It was not where I had left it. Huh. I went out to my car and looked under the seat. Nothing. The last place I remembered seeing it was the kitchen, so I went there and looked by the table. I was beginning to think that perhaps it was in the bedroom, so it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to put off talking to Alex after all.

Here goes, I thought, finding myself standing in front of the bedroom door a few minutes later, a cup of Alex’s favorite herbal tea in hand. I steeled my resolve and knocked twice before entering the room.

“Ah, hey, Alex. We should, uh, here.” I thrust my arm at her, handing her the mug, as I tripped over my tongue trying to speak. I was surprisingly nervous, and had no idea what to say. Seeing her and addressing her brought back the images of her and Dan like a slap in the face. I was not entirely sure how long it been happening, if it was a result of my wanting her to get a raise, or what. Either way, this was going to suck.

“Thanks,” she said dully, sitting up to accept the tea. She sipped it and lowered it, robotically staring forward and out the window. I don’t think she was blinking.

“Uh, yeah. No problem. We should probably talk,” I said.

She turned to look at me, her blank and emotionless expression unchanged. “Yeah,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what to say next. With each day that we had numbly continued our pattern of not speaking, it grew more awkward. She had cheated, and killed someone, or seen someone killed (it’s your fault you caused it all). At this point, I was considering forgiving her, or just pretending nothing had happened, just to regain some semblance of normalcy in my life.

I did not know what to say to her. For a half a second, I even considered telling her the entirety of the truth, because that’s normally what I would have done. It seemed like the supernatural force in my laptop had really brought out the worst in me from the very beginning, when I lied to Alex about it without missing a beat. Had it done the same to her? I considered saying, ‘Something has been going on,’ or ‘Something has changed between us.’ I also considered approaching it from an angle that was about her, telling her that we could talk about whatever had happened, but she needed to come out of the bedroom, we should go out and get some sun, I didn’t know. What I hadn’t planned on saying were the words that tumbled out of my mouth.

“I know you’ve been fucking Dan.”

I was calm. I didn’t yell, and the incongruousness of the content of my statement and the way I presented it seemed to get Alex’s attention.

“What?” She looked absolutely awestruck. It was the first emotion I had seen her display in a week.

“Dan. Your manager. You… you were fucking him,” I repeated dumbly. What else could I say?

“I honestly have no idea what you are talking about,” she said, slightly frowning, and cocking her head to the right. She was looking at me like I had three heads. “Are you okay?”

Well, shit. Of all of the ways I expected that conversation could go, this was not one of them.

“Are you?” I asked, changing the subject. I knew there was no way in hell I was getting away from my brilliantly articulate statement there, but I had no idea where to go with this now. “I mean, you haven’t been to work since, you know, Sheila. Are you going back?”

“Colin, what the hell are you talking about?” She continued to carefully observe me, like I was dangerous or something.

What the fuck was she playing at?

“Alex,” I said slowly. “I have been sleeping on the couch for a week now. You have barely left the bedroom. Do you want to talk about what is going on with all of that?”

She stared blankly at me. Seriously, this was getting really, really weird. “You have been acting a bit weird lately, Colin,” she said, cocking her head slightly. She sipped her tea, appearing thoughtful for a moment, and then turned to the window again, gazing out. “Thanks for the tea,” she added absently.

“Are you high?” I blurted out. Good, one, genius.

She laughed a little at that, but there was no emotion behind it. “Of course not, silly,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me.

I stepped back a little. Her eyes. They were normally a dark, chestnut brown. Now they had taken on a liquid, coppery gold tone, and they seemed to be glowing.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. She smiled at me, and for some reason, this smile was the most sinister thing I had ever seen. How one can smile and have it look sinister, I don’t really know, but she did, and my God, it was. I was horrified. It felt like she was looking through me with those creepy, liquid copper eyes. Her smile widened, exposing a gaping abyss with thousands of sharp, menacing teeth.

I let out an inarticulate grunt, turned away and closed my eyes for a second, my heart hammering like I’d been running. Every bone in my body told me to run. Something was very, very wrong here. I opened my eyes, and fought every instinct in my body to turn back and look at her.

She had returned to staring out the window.

“Alex?”

“Mmm?” She turned back around and I flinched, expecting to see the copper-eyed monster again, but… no, she looked completely normal. I couldn’t really place my finger on why, but this scared me even more.

“Let me know if you need to talk, okay?” I took my leave, slowly closing the door. In my terror, I was feeling paranoid – like I didn’t want to (wake it up) disturb Alex, or whatever the hell was sitting in the bedroom, staring out the window. As I started to tiptoe away, I heard her call out to me quietly, from halfway down the hall.

“Colin?”

“Yeah?” I replied hesitantly.

“You should go now.” Her voice was warped, like there were three of her speaking simultaneously at discordant pitches, in slow motion. A chill shot from my heels to the base of my neck. I was dizzy, overcome by vertigo. The walls were closing in on me, and I had a two-ton weight on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. That was the most terrifying sound I had ever heard, and I didn’t just hear it, I felt it. I tasted it. I smelled it.

I tried to sound normal. “What?” I choked out.

“Did you just say something?” she asked absently. She sounded normal now. Well, not like before.

Nope. “Ah, no, I was just talking to myself,” I stammered.

I got the hell away from that room. Was I hallucinating? Did her face actually just… change? That voice… I felt like I was going to vomit. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, bent over with my nose two inches from the mirror, and one hand clutching either side of the sink. My pupils were slightly dilated, a bead of sweat was beginning to form at my hairline, and I was pale as a sheet. Otherwise, I looked… normal. Everything looked normal, but nothing felt normal. I felt like I was forty-five minutes into a dose of bad LSD. Everything was strange, foreign, not right. I ran to the kitchen cabinet in hopes of locating that three-year old Xanax. I gave Alex one the other day, but there should still be one left. With shaking hands, I knocked the bottle of Benadryl over, chucked some corny old novelty salt and pepper shakers over my shoulder, and pushed a bag of Alex’s loose herb tea out of the way. There it was. I opened the bottle, praying to any God who was listening that Alex hadn’t taken the other one.

It was there. I took it out of the bottle and chewed it. Big mistake – those things taste awful. It had been a while since I had anxiety bad enough to need Xanax, so I had forgotten how awful the taste was if the pill had stuck to my tongue. Wow. I grimaced, and chugged down some water. It was no help. That pill needed to kick in soon, because I was seriously freaking out. I thought I might actually have a heart attack if I couldn’t slow my heart rate.

I had to do something, so I went looking for the laptop. My thoughts were racing. Maybe there would be some answers in there. Maybe something would snap me out of this nightmare. Maybe I could tell it to make it all go away. I went into the living room where I had last seen the laptop, and it was gone. That pill can kick in any time now, I thought, with a sinking feeling I knew exactly where it was (she took it she took it she has it it’s too late). I looked in the kitchen, but I knew it wouldn’t be in there. I took a deep breath and walked back toward the bedroom. Act normal, I told myself. Everything is fine. Two small quiet knocks.

“Hey, Alex?” I walked in. She was sitting on the bed, typing away on my computer. SHIT. “Uh, I was just looking for my laptop,” I said. “Can you let me know when you’re done?”

“I’m not on your laptop, Colin. I don’t know what you did with it,” she droned, not looking up.

It was definitely my laptop she was on.

I reached out to grab it by the screen. “C’mon,” I began, trying to sound playful. “I just need to –“

Alex grabbed my arm, her hand impossibly strong. Her nails cut into the flesh between my wrist and my elbow, and blood began to trickle out of the places her nails had broken the skin, and it burned. Her eyes had taken on the coppery hue again, and her voice had changed again to the monstrous, discordant tenor. She pulled herself up until her face was just inches from mine, and I had no choice but to look into her eyes, those liquid, blood-gold eyes.

“YOU DO NOT NEED THIS ANYMORE, COLIN,” she snarled at me. “GO NOW, AND LEAVE HER TO ME.”

She let go, shoving me away with a force that caused me to stumble back. Her gaze was fixed on me, and as I stumbled, she tilted her head back and let out a cold, sinister laugh that belonged in the deepest pits of Hell. Her mouth began to distort once again, becoming a gaping maw of razor blades.

“What did you do, Alex?” I whispered, slowly stepping back. My plans to get the hell out of there were violently interrupted when the door slammed shut behind me. The monster that Alex had become got up and walked across the room, putting me face-to face with her once again.

“SHE IS GONE NOW, COLIN,” the Alex-monster growled. “GO NOW. YOU ARE BEGINNING TO ANGER ME.”

Maybe it was the Xanax, which had surely kicked in by now, because I had not yet had a heart attack or pissed myself, but I was getting angry. “Who the fuck are you? Are you the djinn from the computer? Why don’t you leave, and go back to where you came from?” I shouted in her face. “Leave Alex alone! Your business is with me.” Boy, did I sound braver than I felt, but I needed to know. What the hell kind of Pandora’s Box did I open?

More of that horrible, frightening laughter. “I AM NO DJINN. I AM DONE WITH YOU, NOW BE GONE BEFORE I DECIDE TO KILL YOU.”

I felt myself shoved against the wall, and realized that I had been squeezing my eyes shut. Apparently, Xanax turns my balls to brass (or turns off my survival mechanism, one of those), because I got back up and approached Alex. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“YOUR DESIRE FOR REVENGE HAS SET ME FREE.” As she said the last word, Alex swooned. She dropped to the floor. I looked down at her, helpless on the floor, and for a moment, I saw my girlfriend, the woman I loved, the one from before this whole mess. It pained me to see her like that. I picked her up, and carried her to the bed. As I set her down, she began to speak, in her own voice this time. She sounded weak.

“Colin?”

“Yeah?” I answered hesitantly.

As she spoke, her eyes remained closed, as though she were talking in her sleep. Her voice remained calm, and barely audible, but the urgency in her message was loud and clear. “Take the laptop and go. Now. It will be back soon. I will try to fight it, but you need to go…” She spasmed, her back arching in an angle that looked excruciating. “NOW!” She said, her voice straining, and beginning to take on the queer, multi-toned tenor from before. “Take it!” She groaned, and spasmed again.

I didn’t wait around. I snatched the laptop from the foot of the bed and got the hell out of there. I got in my car and drove to Evergreen Park, the very same one where I had met the old lady in the Buick, and paid her three hundred dollars for the computer that was ruining my life. I cut the engine, and sat in the driver’s seat for a while, staring blankly ahead, and letting my thoughts run wild. My Word Genie was not a Genie? What the hell was wrong with Alex, and why did she give me the laptop? What was she fighting? I think I was in shock.

After some time, I flipped the laptop open, and saw that Alex had been typing in Microsoft Word. Before reading what she had written, I noticed that the odd little “TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO DO” message was still there, and still blinking red. I suppose I had expected that it would be gone. I thought that whatever magic or evil resided in this computer was possessing Alex now. Maybe if I summoned it here, it would leave her?

I went up to the blinking, red text, and typed, LEAVE ALEX ALONE! And hit enter.

YOU DO NOT WANT THAT, COLIN.

I was pretty sure I did want that. WHY NOT? I hit enter.

BECAUSE I MIGHT BE ABLE TO SAVE HER.

What kind of trickery was this? EXPLAIN, I typed. Enter.

READ THE LETTER FROM ALEX.

Is that what this was? I scrolled up and saw that she had written several pages, and sure enough, at the top of the document, was ‘Dear Colin,’.

I began to read.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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