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cakesunflower · 5 years

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Empty [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: Calum and Stella don’t have anything left to fill up something so empty.

A/N: this is probs the shortest one shot i’ve ever written at like 4k words but i just wrote it in like an hour and a half bc i was bored and emo so i was like,,,,let’s make everyone else emo too. happy ((not really)) reading!!!

She’d forgotten what the gentle bumps and rhythmic sways of sleeping in a tour bus felt like. But Stella wasn’t sleeping; she was wide awake, staring at the ceiling that was actually the bottom of the bunk above hers, Luke’s quiet snores just barely audible over the soft hum of the bus engine. Stella was jealous of him, of all the boys for being in a deep slumber while she lay awake, reaching for her phone that was plugged into the wall, resting somewhere in her bunk. Once she found the device and held it over her face, Stella winced, eyes squinting against the bright screen, opening her eyes enough to check the time. 3:22 in the morning.

A huff of a breath escaped her. She needed to sleep but it was woefully eluding her, the weight on her chest making it difficult to even close her eyes. So quietly, Stella opened the drapes of the curtain, the dim light in the main area of the bus being the only source of light, and she put her legs over the bunk and sat up, hunched ever so slightly as to not hit her head on the top bunk. Her eyes looked at the bunk directly across from hers, rolling her lower lip into her mouth as she thought of the man sleeping behind the curtain. The man she was here for in the first place, yet sleeping in a completely different bunk from. Though it wasn’t because of a lack of space.

Sighing, Stella got out of the bunk, a shiver creeping up her spine as her bare feet touched the sleek floor of the bus, walking towards the main area as her gaze went towards the tinted windows. They were probably on a highway somewhere between Pittsburgh and New York, and given that they left around midnight, they should probably be arriving within the next couple of hours. Stella settled sideways on the couch, arm resting on the top of it as she gazed out the window, the occasional lone car driving by not too often.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t been on an actual tour bus in a while that kept her up. That’s what Stella kept telling herself, because it was better than what the other, slightly more probable, reasoning was: that she didn’t actually want to be there. That the narrow bunk was nothing compared to her memory foam mattress back home. Or that the occasionally clinking of bottles and dishes in the small kitchen because of the moving bus had Stella thinking, for a split second each time, that there was an earthquake.

But she reminded herself that she needed to be here. Even if she didn’t entirely want to be.

“What’re you doing up?”

Stella tensed, swallowing the dryness in her throat as she glanced over her shoulder to see Calum standing there, just a little feet ahead of the bunks, his voice hushed. She looked him over, dark eyes sunken in from sleep, hair too short to be messed up, and tattooed chest on display as he wore just his pajama bottoms. He looked adorable. Tired. Stella’s eyes stung with tears.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she answered softly, hoping if she blinked normally then the tears wouldn’t fall. “What about you?”

Selfishly, Stella hoped his reasoning was the same. Hoped he couldn’t stay asleep because she wasn’t in the same bunk as him. Hoped that he gave some kind of sign that this was just as hard, as tense, as it was for her.

Something flashed across his tired face. Something like guilt. Calum’s throat worked, hand raising to scratch at his other bicep. “I got up to go to the bathroom and saw your bunk was empty.”

Moments like these, Stella hated the truth. His words, honest and guilty, made the tears fight harder to fall. But Stella was nothing if not resilient, even if lately she felt like she was breaking.

Of course he hadn’t gotten up because he missed her presence. He probably hadn’t missed it for months. Why would tonight be any different?

“Oh.” It was a short and breathless sound, fighting to keep the disappointment from slipping in, as she turned to look back out the window. Her brown eyes swept over to Tony, the dedicated driver, before looking out the window one more.

Her teeth pressed together when she heard the soft click of the bathroom door shutting, feeling the knot in her chest tighten with every passing second. The bus was spacious, with a long couch and a round booth-like table to eat on while another dedicated solely for Michael’s gaming system. It was big, enough room for five people plus the driver up front, and yet Stella felt like she was being suffocated. Every inhale felt forced, and whatever air her lungs could gather was let go of reluctantly, and the desperation tightened Stella’s body, hoping this was only a feeling that would soon pass. Hoped that the strain constantly making itself known only wanted attention for now before disappearing altogether.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. Crying wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Moments later, Stella heard the bathroom door open, before Calum’s quiet rasp broke through the silence. “Come back to bed, Stel.”

Her gaze didn’t wander from the window. Even when she could feel Calum’s gaze on her back. Heavy and intense as usual. Her own voice was dropping to a whisper as she responded, “I will in a bit.”

There was a few seconds of silence, and just when Stella assumed Calum had returned to his bunk, he spoke up one more. “Come back to bed with me.”

His words shocked her and she hated that they did. Hated that a simple request from her boyfriend, a man she loved, had her feeling as though he confessed to loving her for the first time. But maybe that’s what happened when something was dying; the smallest spark of bringing it back to life jolted you like a shock of electricity. Even if it was alive only temporarily.

Stella looked at him, saw the mute plea in his dark, tired eyes. Was he tired because of the late hour? Or was he tired of her? She hated that it was something to wonder.

And yet she got up from the couch anyway, but her movements weren’t her own. Stella moved automatically, because she was supposed to. She felt Calum’s gaze on her as she approached his bunk, getting inside and under the covers as he joined her. It smelt like him, and Stella’s throat closed up. Her back was against the wall as Calum closed the drape, succumbing them into darkness, her eyes quickly adjusting as he settled with a soft sigh, legs grazing against hers as he got under the covers as well.

There was minimal space between them, yet it felt like he was miles away. Maybe he was. Maybe they should’ve stayed on their own sides.

But Calum pulled her in, his skin warm under Stella’s as she rested her cheek against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Her hand gingerly placed itself on his stomach, throat working at the feel of his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. It made the tears return and Stella squeezed her eyes shut, begging for them to go away. She’d cried enough. She didn’t dare cry on Calum. Didn’t dare let him know.

She should’ve stayed on her side.

*****

He looked elated. The happiness shone brightly on his face, in the crinkles by his eyes and the grin that pushed up his cheeks. Nothing in this world made Calum happier than when he was on stage, with his brothers, doing what he was born to do for the people who loved watching him do it. And there had been a time where Stella was one of those people.

But as she stood there on the floor amongst thousands of fans, Michael’s fiancé to her left dancing to a song that she’s heard a hundred times before, Stella felt that familiar fist wrap around her heart, squeezing it, punishing her for not being someone who could make Calum as happy as he felt when he was on stage. At one point, she almost did; a time in their relationship where everything was still new and fun and every little thing they discovered about one another made them fall a little bit more in love.

A year and a half later and Stella knew that magic was fading. Fast. And she was too tired to preserve it. Too tired of being the only one fighting a losing battle to do so.

The arena was alive with their fans, with the energy only 5 Seconds of Summer could entice in everyone, but Stella stood still in a spinning world as she felt herself moving further and further away from her surroundings. Everyone was alive, in the happiest place in the world for them. But Stella felt like she was dying and trapped.

“The bar’s, like, a ten minute drive from here,” Luke announced after the show. After they’d come down from their performance high and had changed into clothes that weren’t soaked with their sweat. His blue eyes swept over the group, pocketing his phone. “Everyone ready?”

Agreements were chorused and Stella frowned as they all began making their way out of the dressing room. She stopped Calum from following them out, her hand on his elbow as he came to a halt, turning to look at her with a raise of his eyebrows. “What bar?” she questioned, hoping to keep the tired annoyance from seeping into her tone. “I thought we were headed for the bus?”

Calum blinked and Stella hated that he was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. As if she’d said something completely absurd. Hated that it was a look she had become familiar with lately. “The guys wanted to go for drinks—I told you that before the show.”

The exasperation prickled her Stella’s skin, hand dropping from Calum’s arm as she told him with thinning patience, “No, you didn’t.” Because he hadn’t. Because Stella knew Calum thought he told her but hadn’t actually gotten around to it. Figured that she’d just roll with it because what else was she to do in a city she’d only been to a couple of times—most of them with him? With a breath, Stella asked, “Why do you guys even need to go to a bar? You’ve got plenty of liquor here and on the bus.”

A frown pulled together Calum’s dark eyebrows, body turning to completely face her. He was a head taller than her, and Stella wondered when him gazing down at her had gone from attractive to patronizing. “Because we don’t wanna be cooped up inside, Stel. We’ll only be gone for a couple of hours, come on.”

Her thinning patience was replaced by defeated exhaustion. How long was she going to try and keep this up? What was she waiting for? Stella ran a hand through her hair, gaze averting as she nervously licked at her lower lip. Calum’s eyes were still trained on her, expression unreadable—when had she stopped being able to tell what he was thinking?—and Stella finally said, “I’m not in the mood to go to a bar, Calum. I just—I want some food and I wanna be in bed.” Throat working, she added, “You can go ahead; I think UberEats still works for a tour bus.”

Calum watched her for a couple of seconds and suddenly Stella felt small under his gaze. Scrutinized. She did her best not to bristle under his stare, hands burying into the back pocket of her jeans until Calum finally said, “That Chinese place you like is a couple of blocks from here. We’ll eat and head back to the bus, yeah?”

He ended his suggestion with a flicker of a smile upturning one corner of his lips, eyebrows raising in hopes of her agreement. Stella pressed her lips together, blinking as she forced on a smile with a nod of her head. Calum pulled out his phone and told her, “Lemme let Ash know.”

They sat across from each other at a small table in a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant with food Stella felt her mouth water over. There were three other patrons but most of the sound came from the back where the kitchen was, of utensils clinking and cooks chattering in their mother tongue. Stella and Calum sat silently, shrimp lo mein for him and rice and orange chicken for her. They sat together, but they were miles apart.

She ate her dinner and Calum barely touched his. He didn’t want to be here, Stella knew. He wanted to be in whatever bar their friends—his friends—were at but came here out of obligation. Because he was Stella’s boyfriend, and he couldn’t leave her wandering around a city she didn’t know her way around by herself this time of night.

Stella swallowed her spoonful, the food going down painfully slowly, the taste growing bitter the longer she sat with Calum. She wished he’d gone to the bar. She didn’t want him here, either.

*****

They were in Florida, and suddenly the heat of the southern state began reminding Stella of home, and for the first day she hoped it would help her settle. Hope it would give her a sense of peace she hadn’t been feeling lately. But the universe wasn’t on her side, and the heat did the opposite of what she’d hoped; it reminded her that she wasn’t home. That this was temporary. And it was just another day of her pretending and dragging out something she could’ve put an end to earlier.

But with the hesitance of ending something came the fear of starting something new. And discovering what happiness would be outside of the man she had hoped she’d love forever was paralyzing.

“She’s miserable.” Stella froze at the sound of Calum’s voice, gaze stupidly flickering around the bus. She sat on the couch, Luke taking a nap in his bunk while Michael seemed deaf to the world with his headphones on as he played his video game. Stella sat next to him, reading a book, the leather of the couch sticking to her uncomfortably, and her gaze drifted to the window. The bus was parked in the arena lot, the boys having a few hours before things started to get going for tonight’s show, and Stella blinked in realization that the window was open and Calum’s voice was coming from outside. The faint scent of a cigarette tickled her nose. “She doesn’t wanna be here.”

Her throat tightened at the dull emptiness in his voice. She recognized it as a mixture of defeat and acceptance.

“Have you talked to her?” Of course he was confiding in Ashton. “’Cause honestly, man, I haven’t seen you two speak much since he got here. You guys just. . . Silently coexist. What the hell’s going on?”

“The distance is a fucking toll, man. I think I figured if I flew her out for a few days then, I dunno, things would go back to normal. We’d be okay.” There was a pause. Stella knew he was taking another drag as he spoke with an exhale moments later. “But she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Anywhere but with me.”

The knot in her chest quivered her lower lip, grip on her book tightening as she kept her gaze absently on the pages. The words were there but she couldn’t focus on them. Just like the words she wanted to say to Calum but couldn’t form them on her tongue.

“Then why don’t you talk to her, Cal?” Ashton asked, a pressing urgency creeping into his voice, like he knew what would happen if Calum and Stella remained on the path they were on. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. It’ll only make it worse. Why don’t you fix it?”

Stella held her breath, waiting for Calum’s answer. Maybe if he had one, it would help explain Stella’s own reasoning for Ashton’s question. Why didn’t they fix it? Why were they just letting it fester? They always used to talk, always let each other in.

But then again, they always used to smile when the other was around. Always used to feel the need to touch the other in some way. Used to, used to, used to.

“Because. . . I don’t think I want to.”

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It broke into a thousand little pieces upon hearing Calum’s words. It broke because he had the guts to say the reason Stella was trying to keep hidden from herself, kept refusing to acknowledge when it was crystal clear. It broke because he was suffering just as she was, yet he wasn’t doing anything about it, either. They weren’t together, they weren’t broken up; like Ashton said, they just coexisted. Too tired to be together, yet too hesitant to put an end to it.

Someone had to do it. Someone had to be the one to step it up.

“Hey, can I steal him for a sec?”

Ashton met Stella’s gaze as she stepped out of the bus, looking her way as he leaned forward from where he was resting against the bus, eyes meeting her past Calum’s figure. He nodded, hands in the pocket of his 5SOS hoodie—how he could wear that in Florida heat, Stella didn’t know— before pushing himself and walking towards her. Ashton offered her a small, close mouthed smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes, and Stella found no offense in that.

She approached Calum as he dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his vans. She came to a stop in front of him, lips rolled into her mouth as her dark eyes met Calum’s. He watched her silently, curiously—knowingly. His words echoed in her head, and the knot in Stella’s chest continued to tighten. The hesitance she always felt tried to fight her, tried to stop her from uttering the words she’d finally worked up the courage to speak. But this time she fought back harder.

She pushed and pushed until she finally said, “I’m gonna take the next flight back home.”

Stella looked at Calum, gave herself the courage to meet his gaze, and watched as his lips puckered briefly before he pulled them into his mouth. He nodded, almost to himself, as he looked off to the side, eyes squinting against the brightness of the day as the muscle in his jaw ticked. And despite the strength Stella had found to say those eight words, as she gazed at Calum, she felt the familiar sting in her nose and her eyes, swallowing the tightness in her throat because she was finally doing it. And looking at Calum—God, she wanted to cry.

They were silent as Calum processed her words; processed the weight and meaning behind them. Processed the truth. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, dark eyebrows pulled together, but he still didn’t look at her as he finally spoke lowly, “We could’ve stopped it from getting this bad.”

Stella bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself for sniffling as she looked past Calum and at the grey and black tour bus his back was against. Everything felt heavy. Despite the Florida heat, Stella felt a chill shudder through her body. Calum’s words were a knife digging into her bleeding heart. Her own voice was quiet, defeated and knowing. “We just didn’t want to.”

“Do you—” Calum stopped and Stella watched him purse his lips, throat working as he swallowed inaudibly, head turning to meet her gaze again. The air rushed out of her lungs at the pain she saw in his eyes, the pain that he accepted because he knew it was inevitable. This was inevitable. “D’you still love me?”

She fixed him with a look and Calum let out a humorless, breathless chuckle as he looked up at the bright sky. And Stella watched him, needing to press her lips together as her gaze turned glassier as the seconds passed. Of course she still loved him. Loving him was one of the best decisions she’d made, but staying in love with him was only a source of pain as of late. But Calum had made her smile and laugh and happy and feel content—how could she not love him for that?

Somewhere along the way, that seemed to be outweighed by the loneliness, emptiness and tiredness his absence brought along. And it wasn’t his fault. Stella couldn’t blame him for that. But it wouldn’t change. Maybe it was selfish, being able to commit to him but not to his job. Maybe in the future she’d come to regret this decision. But Stella couldn’t force herself to keep drowning when there was a way of getting some air.

After Stella’s silent answer, Calum’s humorless chuckle transformed into him shooting her a dry smile that didn’t reach his own glassy eyes. “It’s not enough, huh?”

Her throat locked, and Stella stepped towards Calum and grasped his hand. He felt cold under her touch, and Stella tried not to wince at the reminder of how dead this was. Still, she met his gaze, forcing a smile onto her lips as she told him, with honesty and sincerity, “Being loved by you was one of the greatest experiences of my life.” Her voice quivered, and then it broke when she added with a sad yet encouraging smile, “But it’s time someone else gets to experience it.”

His eyebrows twitched into a deeper frown, nose flaring in a way that Stella knew he was trying to keep himself from letting his own tears fall. Her heart tightened painfully. She hated being the reason for his tears. But it had to be done. “I don’t want some—”

“Maybe not now, but you will,” she told him, cutting that thought off before he could finish. She didn’t want him lying to her. It wouldn’t make this any easier.

Calum let out a breath, unsteady and accepting, and pulled Stella into a hug. She returned the embrace, even if it didn’t have the same level of comfort as she normally felt. She loved him. She would for a while. But she’d eventually learn not to. Calum’s chest sank with a breath as he held her close, his arms around her strong. To her words, he rasped, “I’m sorry.”

Stella’s tears fell, burying themselves in the material of his shirt, eyebrows furrowing together at the clench of her heart. She held him just as tightly, knowing it would be the last. “So am I.”

*****

Calum stepped into his bedroom, bags dropping to the carpeted floor, the thud louder than necessary. He was alone save for Duke following him into the room and jumping up on the bed, settling in the middle as his dark eyes remained trained on Calum. A sense of relief had washed over him as soon as the car had pulled into the driveway of his house. Tour was finally over, and nothing sounded better than being in the comfort of his home with his dog.

But before he could succumb to the softness of his mattress, Calum felt his attention draw towards his closet. Specifically, towards a small box in front of it.

He walked over, a curious frown on his face, crouching down as he pulled open the flaps, and felt his stomach churn ever so slightly in realization. Sitting inside were a few of his things, clothes mostly, with a toothbrush, hair brush, and deodorant sitting on top. Calum knew instantly where they were from—who they were from—and took in a breath he hoped would ease whatever tension tried to tighten his body.

Standing up, Calum’s gaze flickered to his closet, biting the inside of his lower lip. He knew he shouldn’t, but he walked over anyway and pulled open the door. Taking a breath, Calum observed the small amount of space that was left. Sure, most of his clothes that were usually hung up were in his suitcase, or in the box on the floor, but the closet was emptier than usual.

There was space where some of Stella’s clothes used to be hung up. Over the course of their year and a half relationship, there had been a mutual understanding that some of her stuff would end up at Calum’s place, while his would be at hers. Except now his things that used to be at her place were in a box on the floor, and her clothes were gone from his closet.

He stared for a moment, the silence in his room not as deafening as he feared it would be. It was calming. Broken only by the clinking of Duke’s tag as he scratched himself behind his ear.

Calum’s heart beat steadily in his chest as he took a step back, gaze still on the closet. He was a bit surprised that there wasn’t a gut wrenching, breathless pain that shot through him the longer he stared, his mind long since processed what the sight before him meant.

It had been months and his closet seemed empty without Stella’s things. Calum let out a sharp exhale. He didn’t feel so empty without Stella.

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @sexgodashton @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @aulxna @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn

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moneyshvt · 4 years

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☆ . · . simay barlas, twenty-two, female, she / her . · . ☆ AYLA CLEARWATER lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for THE LARGE NATURAL STONE FOUNTAIN and that’ll be it. the SPORTS PHOTOGRAPHER has offered occasional glimpses of LIGHT GREEN walls and an impressive collection of EMPTY PICTURE FRAMES in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained CLEVER as ever since moving to tercet court one year ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more of NARCISSISTIC too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a FRIENDLY relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they/them, 21, est . · . ☆

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— she was adopted when she was just under two years old from turkey, so the clearwaters have always felt like her family to her. she knew the greater part of growing up that she was adopted, it just never was an issue for her. it was a fact, but it really wasn’t an important fact. she has no desire to try to find her birth parents or family, though she has visited turkey.

— the clearwaters are a triple threat in sports : her grandfather retired mlb player and coach, her father a retired prominent defenseman in the nhl and current dartmouth men’s hockey coach, and her older brother ( 26 ) is making a splash in his third year in the nfl as a wide receiver. however, her parents made sure she and her brother had a ( fairly ) average “middle class” bringing up, though they had their fair share of money in the bank. didn’t have to struggle, really, but didn’t get everything she wanted either. had a summer job scooping ice cream for two years in high school.

— grew up in norwich, vt, real big on nature and hiking and all that jazz and lowkey misses it in the heart of la.

— when she was ten she got one of those kid’s polaroid cameras ( u know the ones where the film is only a little bigger than a postage stamp ) and she was obsessed. she worked her way up through cameras over the years, having a natural eye for it.

— one of the first games she ever shot was one of her brother’s high school football games which sounds sweet but it was actually because she was so bored out of her mind and wanted something to do. needless to say, though, that was the start of it. some might say it was kind of inevitable she gravitated toward sports somehow — she was a clearwater at heart. since then she has gained a lot of knowledge and respect for all different kinds of sports.

— for college she was torn between dartmouth and nyu. she ultimately chose nyu because it was somewhere new.

— she went to nyu for advertising and photography, shooting various nyu sports teams while she was there and throughout her years, managed to shoot a few rangers, knicks, and yankees games as well. she held two summer internships with the yankees ( on her own merits or because of her family name, she may never truly know ) and ultimately graduated from nyu a year early.

— she then spent the better part of a year after graduation road tripping as you do and ended up in california. it’s all about who you know, and in picking up a favor for a friend in cali she stumbled into the perfect opportunity. from there she landed a role on the company that handles the photography for staples center and other notable teams, most notably the kings, lakers, and dodgers ( photography company based on this irl one ).

— she moved into tercet court not long after she knew she would be in la for much of the time being. it’s definitely not her house, considering she makes just enough to live on. it’s a family home, purchased initially by her father who’d wanted to sink some money into tangible assets instead of the stock market and to have a west-coast home available for the family. hey, worked out pretty well for her.

— she has predominately been tasked with shooting the kings the past year or so, though she started with shooting dodgers games last summer and is doing so this summer as well. she’s also shot a handful of lakers’ games when a friend needs someone to cover. three of her photos so far have been used in large ads and banners in the city ( including most recently her current MONEY SHOT of the game winning goal in a come back win ) --- very cool moment for her. several others have been used by local publications and websites.

— she does a little freelance work as well ; mostly for friends or friends of friends, though she’s been considering lately trying to make her skills and business available in a more professional manner. she does do a lot of photographing for herself --- a lot of candids ; she thinks they capture the true spirit of a person moreso than when they’re posing or prepared for a photo. but not in a creepy way --- she’s been the victim of the paps enough times by association with her family to know the correct boundaries and limits.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— lowkey loves playing games with the paps, though she’s probably the only one that finds it funny. as a photographer herself she has a good eye for where they’re hiding and will also snap photos of them in turn just for her own amusement.

— she hopes someday to be the team photographer for a team, hopefully in one of the “big four” ( nfl, nhl, nba, mlb )

— she played field hockey and lacrosse through high school.

— ayla thinks she’s better at shooting people. part of what she loves about being a sports photographer is how active and unpredictable it is to shoot a game. she’s had to learn a lot to try to predict what she can.

— very much a morning person. has never had a problem waking up in the morning. who’s jealous bc i am. goes for a run at sunrise, and has showered, gotten ready for the day, and is at a local cafe shop editing photos / making graphics and drinking an iced mocha by 8. truly couldn’t be me...

— so desperately wants to be that girl with tons of cute aesthetic plants in her apartment but tragically plants always die in her care no matter what she does. probably has gotten one of those tiny tabletop sand zen gardens to make herself feel better tho she still keeps trying with plants. so far the only ones that have lived any length of time are the air plants.

— she really wants a greyhound but is afraid to make the commitment to actually adopting one.

— her personal insta ( the non-sports one ) has a modest following. a few thousand, probs.

— she has struggled a bit with people who think her opportunities have only arisen because of her family pedigree ( which some have gone so far to tell her they’re “not her family” --- which, don’t even go there, lads... ), and that has made ayla work all that much harder to prove that she’d gotten where she has on her own merits.

— she has a rule ( and in the case of the nhl there is a rule enforced by a signed contract ) about not getting involved with anyone she shoots ; it’s considered a conflict of interest. i imagine she has a really good relationship with the players though --- probably doesn’t hurt that she is pretty. at least one of them have hired her to shoot their wedding this summer even though she is wildly under qualified.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

alya is a chill and laidback person at heart. her approach to the fame attached to her due to her father and brother has been to laugh it off good-naturedly. she’s generally well liked, with a hint of sass and humor. she comes across as a bit of an air-head at times, but that’s part due to a persona she put on from a young age. she has an observant eye that drew to her photography in the first place and will often allow her to draw certain conclusions about people. she’s well versed in all the sports she shoots, something that tends to surprise a lot of people, but how is she supposed to be good at her job if she isn’t ? if she gets bothered during games she typically shuts people down with wide eyes and some obscure bit of knowledge in her cute, raspy lil voice. dareisay... elle woods, what like it’s hard ? energy ??

a few of her downfalls include her narcissism and need to be liked. she looks to look and feel pretty, by her own standards, and is a queen of the self-timer and remote self photography : has two instas because of it -- one for her sports photography and one that’s a “personal” and mostly just pictures of herself. her need to be liked is something she doesn’t even realize. she likes to be seen in a positive light.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

alya stands at 5′4″ with a slim but athletic build. her hair is naturally brown, but is dyed to have blonde highlights. she does not need glasses or contacts and has no tattoos.

she’s almost always wearing the same pair of beat up timberland’s she’s owned since freshman year of college. she likes to be able to move easily ( bc homegirl absolutely cannot walk in heels at all ). despite what the tabloids like to call her unfortunate choice in footwear, she likes to look cute, often pairing them with short, flowy sundresses or skirts + crop tops. when she shoots games, however, she’s dressed rather practically in skinny jeans, a crop top, and a cardigan. her hair is often kept down and loose, or in a messy bun.

𝐎𝐎𝐂

it me. ollie again. i also play fitz ( miguel bernardeau fc ). yes the overlap between fitz and ayla is not great but i truly only know one thing that that one thing is hockey asldfalsdjf sO. if y’all seeing me rping with myself on the dash bc i think it’d be fun to bounce fitz and ayla off each other mind ur own business...

#linksintro #( it's not a whole lot diff from the first time around alsdfj )

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meggannn · 7 years

Text

ive been cranky lately because of work and real life bullshit (i don’t know why i thought the housemate moving out would be any less dramatic than living with her for 6mo), so here’s some ideas i’m kicking around about what my shepard does after the war

what my shep does IMMEDIATELY after the war i am leaving up to covering in my fic and i won’t get into details bc there are some spoilers and shit i haven’t posted yet

so many years in the future, maybe in a decade or two: i dont know if i see shep 'retiring' so much as just choosing to decommission as an active officer. maybe her leg gets too irritating to handle or her migraines get worse or she just gets fucking tired or she realizes that one of garrus’s biggest fears is of him receiving a death notification and her dogtags in the mail, or a combination of all four.

but the alliance prob still keeps her as an advisor or senior member for possibly a few things, the preference of which i have not entire hashed out. she is para-centric in terms of morality and ideals, which doesn’t change as she gets older, but -gade in terms of drive and occasional ruthlessness within her job, which always has the potential to harm both herself and others. i think her attitude gets a little more manageable once she works out a new schedule and healthier job for herself. i’m thinking something like a liason for interspecies cooperation, or overseeing general of certain territories, or senior intel strategist, etc etc., something that keeps her away from active combat but still engaged in it, with her fingers in a lot of pies. so i think she'd be doing is “”deskwork”” but work that mostly requires cooperation and strategical planning at a very high level that she could do from the citadel or wherever.

then also, because she doesn't know how to take a fucking break, i see lyd admitting this with much embarrassment and discomfort but with TOTAL support from garrus: she kinda comes up and says “uhhh, also btw you should know i've been discussing with the university of thessia/oxford/sur'keh/etc about master's/phd programs" and g looks up from his briefings from the primarch like "what? you want to go back to school?” and shep is like, still mortified abt this as an adult but determined to act like it’s nbd, but now that she has Free Time she wants to check something off her list, which is: attend a formal school and gain a diploma. and not the damn remedial studies courses she took back in the alliance just so she could be taken off probation. and g is like “huh, well you know i support you, what are you gonna study?" and she's like "probably law, criminal justice, political theory, turian history and maybe interspecies language theory -- ” and she rattles off a bunch of things that nobody can ever possibly do all together, and garrus is kinda trying to wrap his head around the fact that it now sounds like his gf wants to become a lawyer or dump him to go become a xenoanthropologist with liara. and then she says “well look war cleanup is going to last the rest of our lives, we both know i can’t stay out of it. and because nobody takes me fucking seriously when i give advice on this stuff based on what i’ve observed with my own two eyes of this inefficient government system, i need a degree, or like, ten" and g is like “so ur going into politics" and she's like “FUCK no i would never" but she gets to work anyway.

working a full time job and doing classes w private tutors and profs g is like “ok i give up, you’re not going into politics or law? shit you’re not going to c-sec are u?” and she's like “no.......... but i will be making all of this as publicly accessible as possible” and this is basically just part of her movement to start making galactic govts more accountable for their actions and help inform the ppl of what's going on, in both legal and literal terms as they rebuild, and shep is adamant that the same problems that let saren run around loose and unevaluated, the hand-waving that allowed colonists to go missing for years, prejudice that led to one species threatening to not participate in a galactic total war just because a commander didn’t give into their command to allow an ongoing genocide to continue, yeah, that shit can’t keep going on. not just bc she feels like the govt failed them in the war, but bc of all the ways it failed the marginalized species and forgotten civilians, the blind spots, the corruption, etc, which she damn well knows abt bc she was a victim to this exact system as a kid. so she wants it, she wants it so bad, and it’ll never get done in her life time, but that’s ok, if she’s known for anything let it be for this too

meanwhile when garrus is too old to serve as commander of citadel defense he probably becomes like a military or political correspondent for citadel news network while also training young hierarchy engineers in ballistics and programming, and he’s known for being That eccentric instructor who you’re pretty sure pulls at least half of his “war stories” out of his ass, and he gives a different story to explain why half his face looked like it was eaten by varren every time he’s asked (”a maw got in a good hit of acid before i filled it full of cannon fire” “i overloaded a geth prime so hard its head is still embedded in the station ceiling, and then it dropped the rocket launcher it was holding which fired right into my face”) and for all that he loves to brag about cool shit he did, he still won’t answer if he and general shepard secretly eloped years ago because he still calls her his “girlfriend” but always winks when he does????

other ideas: with all the rebuilding, assuming for this post this is on the citadel but could be wherever, architects come to shep like “hey we have this empty space that used to be a department store, after it was ruined by the blast, now it's totally gutted and we want to put like a museum of your life there” or sth equally obnoxious and shep is like “........why. why on earth would u do that. make it a library you assholes” so they name the library after her instead. which she’s like good, that’s practical and will actually help people, here’s my seal of approval, and she doesn’t admit she's super touched they really did that bc when she was a kid she used to hide out in libraries and read all day till closing. and the librarians were nice and she'd feel normal, like she was learning even tho she dropped out of school at age 13. so i think that would be non-negotiable for her, like “i cant prevent you from making a dumbass statue but if you're asking my opinion on how to use five thousand square ft, you're going to make educational and free-access, or you're not putting my name on it"

more later maybe

#lydia shepard

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sadrien · 7 years

Text

goodbyes & hellos

on ao3

im so so so late but hey this is for first day of prompt week for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare!!!! day one: wrong number

this was a lot of fun tbh and ive been dying to write this ship. alyas texts are italicized, adriens are underlined on ao3, just bold here bc tumblrs a butt. shoutout to @reyxa for the title <3

enjoy!

Alya narrows her eyes at the new message that lights up her phone. It’s an unknown number that she doesn’t recognize — not that she’s given her number to anyone recently — and it’s also seven in the morning . Anyone how knows her at all should know that she doesn’t wake up before at least nine on the weekends. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that she doesn’t sleep during the week and tends to go to bed after two in the morning.)

She groans as another message shows up on the screen. She squints and lets the messages flow in, figuring she can tell the person they’ve got the wrong number after they’ve finished whatever they have to say. Or she can decide that it’s unimportant and ignore it and go back to sleep.

She likes her second plan the best.

unknown number: Hi!

unknown number: Just wanted to let you know the start time for today has been moved from 10 to 9:15

unknown number: My father has a meeting at 1300 so he wants to get it all done as soon as possible

unknown number: And I know you mentioned wanting to have him on set yesterday

unknown number: I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience! Your agent should be calling you soon, but I thought I’d give you a heads up

Alya squints at the screen. She doesn’t want to care but she’s curious. And curiousity killed the cat and all that but she’s used to letting her nosiness get the best of her.

unknown number: agents???

unknown number: 1st of all srry u have the wrong number

unknown number: 2nd of all were u talking to a movie star or smth???????

unknown number: book writer??

unknown number: what kinda person needs an agent

unknown number: Oh I’m sorry! I must’ve gotten the wrong number from someone

unknown number: I’m really sorry if I was bothering you

Alya rolls her eyes.

unknown number: u woke me up but its chill cause now im curious

unknown number: Curious? About what?

unknown number: way 2 keep avoiding the question

unknown number: ???

unknown number: u said the person u meant to text has an agent

unknown number: how fancy r they

unknown number: Oh! She’s a model!

Alya’s eyes widen. The most famous person she knows is that thirteen year old that was in her school who has ten thousand subscribers on YouTube because she makes lyric videos. The second is a boy who has a few thousand instagram followers because he has nice abs and lots of white boy clothing and muscle shirts.

unknown number: u kno a model????????

unknown number: Uhh

unknown number: I’m not sure how much personal information I should be giving to a stranger

Alya sighs. So close.

unknown number: its fine dude (dude? u good w that? lmk if u arent) i getchu

unknown number: u can just stop responding if u dont wanna talk

She locks her phone and slides it back under her pillow. She stares at the ceiling for a few more minutes, wondering if she’ll be able to fall back asleep. As much as she’d like to take the train back to dreamville, she can’t. Because now she’s awake and now she’s wondering. And once she stops wondering, she doesn’t stop.

She’ll probably stop thinking about this random wrong number in a few days and in a few months, she’ll forget about them entirely but…

Ugh.

Sleep definitely isn’t an option anymore.

Leaving her phone in her bed, she pads to the kitchen, twisting her hair up into a messy bun as she does so. No one is up yet — of course they aren’t, it’s seven on a Saturday and everyone is taking advantage of every precious minute of sleep they can get — so she has the run of the house to herself.

So she makes herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and turns to television on. Her initial plan is to just leave it on whatever channel that’s playing when she first turns it on, and luckily the twins were the last ones to use it. Saturday morning cartoons. Score.

Alya stirs sugar in her coffee as Cyber Chase plays in the background. It’s not much more than background noise, it’s the middle of an episode and she doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she does snort at a few of the bad jokes.

“You’re up early,” her mom says before dropping a kiss on the top of Alya’s head.

Alya hums. “Got a few text messages and they woke me up.” She notes how her mom purposefully avoids eye contact as she opens a cabinet. Alya rolls her eyes and eats a spoonful of cereal.

“School friends?” her mom asks carefully.

“Yes,” Alya lies. Better than her mom asking more questions. The biggest one being why were you talking to a complete stranger?

“Are you going to see them before we leave?”

Alya glues her eyes to the TV. “If they’re around.”

Her mom makes an unimpressed sound and Alya resists the urge to roll her eyes. She texted a few of her friends the other week, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. They all had the same sort of idea about cutting ties.

Alya sighs and puts down her spoon, twisting around in her seat to face her mom. “I promise I’m talking to them.”

Her mom gives her that look— the one where her lips purse and a crease between her eyebrows that’s becoming more and more permanent; the one that says she wants to push for more details, but won’t unless they’re volunteered first. Which Alya is not doing, thank you very much. “If you say so, honey,” her mom says, turning her attention to the breakfast she’s making.

Alya stares down into her cereal bowl.

Time to evacuate to her bedroom.

She finishes her cereal as quickly as she can without choking and dumps her bowl and spoon in the sink as she passes it, taking her coffee with her to her room. New plan: curl up in bed with her laptop and hope her mom just leaves her alone until they move.

Alya’s almost forgotten about her phone by the time she flops onto her bed. It vibrates almost as soon as she opens her laptop. She frowns as she pulls it out from under her pillow.

unknown number: Dude is fine for me

unknown number: He/him pronouns please

unknown number: Thanks for asking I really appreciate it, actually

unknown number: People don’t always ask

Plan trashed. This is a better plan.

unknown number: she/her for me

unknown number: and no prob man

unknown number: i wasnt gonna assume ur gender

unknown number: ok that mightve sounded bad but i didnt mean it in a bad way like the ‘lol dont assume my gender’ way jerks do sometime i meant it in like a genuine

unknown number: if u have smth u wanna say u should say it because i am very tired and i can go on for a while

Whoops.

Alya can’t say she’s known for her stellar first impressions but she usually doesn’t ramble her way into an awkward corner. She mindlessly flips through apps as she waits for a response.

unknown number: Don’t worry about it! I didn’t take it the wrong way or anything

Alya smiles to herself as she responds. He keeps leaving her openings which is nice. Based off his initial reaction, she thought he’d shut this down as fast as possible.

She realizes this is probably a little weird. But it’s the most exciting thing to happen to her since school let out so…

unknown number: so whats up stranger??

unknown number: b4 u ask im just sitting in my room doing nothing but text u so thats my morning

unknown number: I actually have work soon, so that’s fun

Alya raises her eyebrows. She forgot age was something else she didn’t know yet.

unknown number: oo work that sounds fun

unknown number: what do u do???

unknown number: I work for my dad, it isn’t anything special

unknown number: But it gives me something to do with my time so I don’t mind that much

unknown number: If I randomly stop responding without warning, that’s why

unknown number: good 2 kno

unknown number: can i ask what u do 4 ur dad or is that 2 personal

unknown number: I uh… I just do whatever he needs me to do

unknown number: I don’t get paid or anything but

unknown number: ay it still works as a resume builder

unknown number: Yeah exactly!

unknown number: thats cool that ur dad can get u a job!! my mom and dad could never w their jobs so i just suffer

unknown number: not that thats any different from what i would do anyway as a teenager

Alright, perfect. She’s brought up the age question in a really clunky and awkward way. Better than nothing.

unknown number: Oh how old are you?

unknown number: I’m 15

Alya lets out a sigh of relief.

unknown number: ayy same!

unknown number: just ur fav teenage superhero blogger

unknown number: doing nothing with her life

unknown number: You like superheroes?

unknown number: yeah!! i love comic books. you??

unknown number: I don’t have time to read many but yeah! I’ve always loved Spiderman

unknown number: wonder woman is my g i r l

unknown number: superheroes are just so cool

She waits a few minutes before she decides that he must have gone off to work. Bonding over superheroes, that’s good. A shared interest. She scrolls through their conversation, rereading some of the earlier messages before she creates a contact for him. She makes the name ‘stranger’ and leaves it at that.

It’s not like they’re meeting up or anything. Even if he is an ax murderer, can’t kill her if she never sends him her location.

Alya spends the next couple of hours avoiding her mom as much as possible. She takes her sisters to the park and then goes to the library after she brings them home.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She’s clicking through a webcomic that she missed a few weeks worth of updates when her phone buzzes. She glances down, expecting it to be a text from her mom asking if she has any plans or to do chores or something, but is pleasantly surprised to see a message from her stranger.

stranger: Sorry about that, work ran long

stranger: Admittedly, I don’t know very much about Wonder Woman, but she looks very awesome

unknown number: !!!!

unknown number: when ive got more time remind me to tell u all abou t her

unknown number: and to rec some comic books even if u dont have time

stranger: Is she your favorite?

Alya sits back in her chair. This conversation is going to be a long one.

Alya finds herself randomly texting her stranger for the next few days. He doesn’t always respond quickly, but he responds eventually, no matter how weird her original message.

That’s more than she can say for most of her friends.

She texts him as she’s sitting on the counter in her kitchen, stirring a pot.

unknown number: hey stranger whats up

stranger: Just reading, you?

unknown number: making box mac n cheese

stranger: Sounds fun

unknown number: yeah im gonna eat it straight from the pot

The three dots bounce on the screen as the stranger takes his time with the next message. Alya snorts and turns off the stove, straining the pasta and moving to the fridge to find butter and cheese. He’s found his words by the time she’s letting the butter melt in the pot.

stranger: Straight from the pot? Why?

unknown number: because i live life on the edge

unknown number: and also because im too lazy to clean the dish later

stranger: You know what? That’s fair

Sometimes, Alya thinks that she probably shouldn’t think about someone who she doesn’t even know the name of as often as she does, let alone text him as much as she does. But sometimes she’ll see something, and she’ll immediately think of him. Or she’ll just be randomly upset and feel the strong urge to pick up the phone and see if he’s available to vent to.

She knows it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help herself.

One night, at around two in the morning, she finds herself messaging him.

unknown number: hey did i ever mention i was moving

She’s almost asleep, slightly more okay than she was before she sent the text, when he responds.

stranger: You haven’t but we also don’t talk about where we live

Alya stares at the screen for a long moment, the bright light in the darkness making everything on the screen blur into nothing. She just feels kind of numb.

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: like 8 hours away from where i live now

stranger: Wow that’s a big move

unknown number: yeah

stranger: I’m guessing you don’t want to go?

unknown number: not really

unknown number: did u know ur my only friend right now

stranger: I am?

unknown number: me and my other friends sort of cut ties

stranger: The internet exists

stranger: Phones exist

stranger: FaceTime and Skype both kind of suck, but they exist

unknown number: yeah i guess

unknown number: i guess its just too hard for any of us to try

stranger: I have no idea how far apart we live

stranger: We’re doing just fine

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: yeah ur right

One of Alya’s small comforts that comes to mind whenever she thinks about moving is the fact that she’ll have her phone on her and a portable charger. Her stranger will be with her every step of the way.

He’d managed to get her to talk to some of her friends. She doesn’t really think it’ll last once she’s in Paris, but the attempt is nice. And it gives her other people to talk to for the rest of the summer.

It’s too early in the morning when they leave for the last time for her to get really emotional about moving. All she has the energy to do is to take a picture of her old apartment, caption it ‘one last goodbye to marseille’, and save it before sending it to her friends over Snapchat. Before she falls asleep against the car window, she texts it to her stranger.

She wakes up to a new text among the goodbyes from her friends.

stranger: Have a nice car ride! I’ll let you know when I get back from work <3

Alya hides her smile from her sisters and screenshots the text for later.

She texts him from the floor of her new bedroom while her dad starts moving boxes. They’ve been in the process of moving for a while now, shipping most of their things to Paris beforehand. Now all that remains is the actual unpacking.

Alya doesn’t have the energy for that. She just lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling for a while. Then she picks up her phone and sends him a text.

It’s been about an hour since they last talked. She’d talked to him for a good majority of the car ride, only stopping when he was busy and ending the conversation when they arrived so she could get her things out of the car and help her sisters with theirs. She’d sent him a picture of her empty bedroom and said ‘let the unpacking begin :P’. He’d responded with a ‘Good luck!!’ and ‘I’ll let you get to work!’

Alya’s thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. She’s never really pushed him for any sort of personal information before.

New city, new Alya. Or something.

unknown number: hey just wondering

unknown number: what do u have me in ur phone as??

unknown number: i have u in here as stranger

stranger: Your contact name?

stranger: Uh awkward but you don’t?

stranger: You’re the only one I just have the number for, so I know who you are that way

Alya reads his texts a few times before she responds. She doesn’t know what she expects in return, but she figures she has nothing to lose.

unknown number: im alya

unknown number: in case u were wondering

stranger: Hi Alya

stranger: I’m Adrien

#adrien agreste #alya cesaire #alyadrien #outsidethelovesquare #miraculous ladybug #my fics #oof its done

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