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agattthaa · 7 months

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Smartwatch

Pairing: Beckett Harrington/F!MC

Word count: 1.277

Warnings: A little bit of jealousy, but is nothing out of this world, they are cute and in love

-I still don't understand why you bought this tuneless device for me.

-And I already told you, Beck. It works for a bunch of stuff. Sets alarms, play audiobooks, track your daily activities. That helps me a lot when I'm practicing Thieth. It can help on your secret workout section.

-You practice yoga with me everyday.

-Yes, Beckett, I do. And I don't have a six pack. -She pointed out, to which he only rolled his eyes and continued.

-And between all my activities, I don't have the time for a 'secret workout section'. You know that, we spent the vast majority of the day together.

-My mother always says that a man can always find some way to hide something, if he really wants.

-And you think that what I would choose to hide from you would be a workout section? -He lifted one of his eyebrows.

-Why Harrington? Do you have anything else that you want to hide from me? -It was her turn to lift an eyebrow, but the smirk on her lips didn't let her expression be too serious.

-You know very well I do not. Besides, considering how many people in this school wish to take my place, if I was hiding something, you would already know. -His voice grew to be clearly annoyed, meanwhile, her smirk turned into a smile instantly, because she knew perfectly well what he was implying.

-Oh my, is THE Beckett Harrington jealous right now? -she poked his side. Her smile growing bigger as he turned red.

It was risky, Eli knew it. They were in this thing for almost a year now, before he really considered himself to be a true pendpal, before he accepted that he now had friends, before Rafe.

And while they were definitely a thing, they weren't that thing she wanted them to be. They did everything a couple did. Sometimes even more.

They spend almost every moment together, they went on little dates, he gave her flowers almost daily, made notes specifically for her so she could understand her classes better, they slept together with most of the nights just holding each other and actually sleeping, he gave her the sweetest forehead kisses and held her hand all the time, and she knew fully well he did not appreciated PDA but knew she did.

Most married couples aren't so serious. Sheira had told her, and she knew it. And yet, he didn't ask that goddamn question. So she didn’t imply anything.

But now, he gave her the perfect opportunity, so what could she possibly do if not take that opportunity.

-I don't believe I have a reason to be. -He answered when the red had subdued.

He tried to play it cool, but she knew him too well. She could hear the words he didn't say. She knew he was asking her if he had a reason to be jealous. He was laid on her bed, as usual, but his eyes were not on her, and that was unusual. He was scared of her answer.

She sat down closer to him. He was laid on his side, so she placed herself in front of her torso, placing her hand on his face and caressing her thumb against his cheek.

-I don't believe you have a reason to be. Although you say otherwise, only one person showed interest in me since I came here.

-And why do you think that is, Eli? -He sat down, lacing her hand on his, while the other touched her face in adoration. -Why do you think I must be by your side every minute? Why I never let go of your hand? Why I kiss you out of nowhere?

-Because you have an enormous crush on me that you can't get over no matter how hard you try? -Her smirk made him smile hopelessly.

-I never tried to get over it, first of all. Besides my enormous crush on you, it's the eyes. The eyes that follow you everywhere, Eli. I don't know how you don't see it. Everywhere you go, everyone watches you, with eyes filled with hope that one day you'll look towards them as well. Goddammit, last week I went to the bathroom and that guy from your team was asking you if you wanted to do something after practice.

-He told me it was a team outing, Beck.

-Yeah, one that neither Griffin nor Zeph knew about.

-Besides, I said no.

-I know you did. Still, you don't know what it's like.

-That's what you think. Do you have any idea how many of this year's juniors are watching you? A girl came to ask me if you were single Beck. How many times has that happened to you?

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted it. His eyes instantly got bigger. He was not expecting her to say that.

-What did you answer her, Eli?

-That's irrelevant.

-Eli, what did you tell her?

-I think you know what I told her, Beckett Harrington.

-Full name won't work this time and I don't. What did you tell her, Eli?

-Had any blonde girl come to you asking for a date, Harrington? If not, I think you know what I told her.

His face turned to a lovestruck smile.

-You told her I wasn't single, didn't you, Eli? -She looked away from him when his smile became too blinding. He took that opportunity to kiss her temple, her cheeks, her eyes. -Did you tell her you were my girlfriend?

-You are the one saying that, Harrington, not me.

-I can almost see it. The skeptical look on your face, you looked her up and down I'm sure of it, and you tried to be crude, but she didn't realize it because you never can do it. Then you said it, the most beautiful words "No, I am his girlfriend". Was it like it, Eli?

She didn't say anything. Because Eli knew Beckett, but he also knew her. It was exactly what had happened, but she would not admit it.

-I won't say it before you do, Harrington. No matter how much you annoy me.

-Why must you be so headstrong, my love? -He held her face, forcing her to look at him. -Eli, can I also tell people that you are my girlfriend?

Her face broke on a sweet smile and she melted on his hands.

-Ask properly, Harrington.

He smiled, letting a little bit of air come out of his nose.

-Eli, my sun and all my stars, will you be my girlfriend?

-I'll think about it. -She pulled him closer, smiling almost as much as him. -Okay, I will.

-You are impossible.

-And yet, you love me. -She joked against his lips.

-I really do.

Before she could say anything, he kissed her, making her melt on his arms. She, with her hand on his face, pulled him closer, and he held her by her waist, hugging her close and closer, as if he could not bear to be apart from her not even by a centimeters, not even by a second.

But their peace was disrupted almost immediately. A loud beep was almost deafening when compared to the silence they had before.

When they look down on the watch on Beckett's arm. The words "Abnormal heart rate decteted" were in bright red. Almost as red as Beckett's face.

-I'll never wear this again.

Eli's cheeks hurted from how much she laughed. She held his face on her hands, running her thumbs on his cheeks before giving him a small kiss.

-Yeah, you don't have to worry about anything.

#choices stories you play #the elementalists #choices #beckett harrington #beckett x mc

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saibug1022 · 6 months

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Apollo Solaris - The Elementalists

I am so delusional about this man he has his own change to the lore. In my version, not only does he date both Beckett and Griffin, but he and Atlas actually weren't separated till six years old and his foster parents, the Pierces, messed with his memory

#playchoices #choices #pixelberry #elementalists #the elementalists #choices elementalists #beckett harrington #griffin langley #beckett x mc #griffin x mc

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sunnyshiftyy · 1 year

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Sometimes forever doesn’t mean forever - TE one shot

Book: The Elementalists, AU TW: I think none? Rating: PG Pairing: Beckett Harrington x f!MC Elise Russel. Words: 649 (short but sad) Summary: Basically hurting and angst? A/N: Long ago, there was a prompt that read ‘Sometimes forever doesn’t mean forever’. On a whim, I whipped this up, and lost it deep in the pits of my notes app. When I found it again, and read it, I actually liked it enough that I wanted to share it with the world. This is definitely an AU kinda thing. None of this in my actual headcanon storyline!!! It's a little different to what I normally write, but that's what will make me grow as a writer, right?

Now, I’m submitting this for the @choices-february2023 challenge for day 26 with the prompt ‘Fairy Tales’ (because forever is a fairy tale? My logic..)

Tags: @theclassycandy , @choices-february2023 , @choicesficwriterscreations

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics or TE content!

And on that note, I hope you enjoy!

Beckett’s POV

I don't know how this happened. I guess I should've done better. I should have been better. But I wasn't.

You know what she would say to that? 'You don't need to be better. You're you, and that's what I love about you.'

But she isn't here now, is she? So I can self destruct as much as I want.

Who am I kidding. The sunshine factor or what's-it-called has it's aftereffects. I won't self destruct. At least not on purpose. That's not what she would want for me.

I hate crying. Not because 'it shows weakness' or whatever nonsense ignorant fathers stomp into their sons heads. Because it's messy. Everyone gets all worried about you, but it's all a show. They don't care about how you feel. They care about the 'why'. Or about their own feelings. No one feels good when another person cries. They want that queasy feeling gone.

Luckily, I'm alone. No one to fake care about me now. Also no one to actually care about me now. The only one that did just left.

Did it come as a surprise? Yes and no. Initially, I was too stunned to say anything. But she made some sense after a few minutes. As much as she can make sense, of course. It's funny how she always managed to put two opposite ends together. Making complete sense and at the same time not. That's something only she could do.

When she came in, her face didn't raise any alarms in my book. I should have known. I should have been paying attention.

And then... I still can't make sense of what happened then. It's only been ten minutes, but it's already blurry. Maybe because of the tears I was holding back the entire time.

It's like something triggered a flight or fight response. That something obviously being me. She usually freezes. But this isn't the usual.

The whole time she was talking, I could not get myself to respond. Because I couldn't process exactly what she was saying. I have never heard her say such irrational things before. Oh Gods, she must've hurt immensely...

The things I did understand were 1) she had overthought everything about us and 2) she wanted us to stop being us.

I didn't think she meant it. That might sound very bad, but it's the truth. Just 24 hours ago she told me she couldn't live without me.

It hurt when she said, 'But I'll have to' a few minutes ago. She thought she was doing it for the good of us both. Then I finally started talking. I'll spare you the details, it was all very dramatic. It was one of those rare moments where I stopped thinking. I let the words do their thing. Very dangerous, but it didn't end too bad this time. To conclude, we both confessed we might die without each other.

I told you it was dramatic. My mind is going to love bringing this moment up again and again, letting me relive the painful awkwardness of it all.

Still, she decided to take the odds of death. I think. The uncertainty makes this all more frustrating.

All I can think about is that one night. That one night we talked about things we never told anyone. She cried, I almost cried, and we laughed and made all of it feel less life threatening. She didn't judge. She never judges. She understands.

That night she told me, 'I want to be with you forever.' I know she believed it then. I believed it then.

Sometimes forever doesn't mean forever.

Forever means as long as possible. Seems like we've reached our expiration date.

Forever is a promise, maybe even a wish. Forever doesn't even exist.

Forever is the only thing you know for certain isn't going to be happening.

And still, we all keep hoping on forever.

Hope you enjoyed!

A/N: If you want to know more about my OC’s in my TE universe, click here. If you want to read more, here’s my masterlist with all the fics on it! (dated <3) Another thing: you can find sneak peeks of future fics and other posts on my masterlist (indicated with coming soon!) Last thing: my asks are still open! If you want headcanons or anything, don’t be shy, ask some more :)

#theelementalists #the elementalists fanfic #the elementalists fanfiction #the elementalists headcanons #the elementalists #Beckett x Mc #beckett harrington #beckett harrington x mc #choices #choices fanfiction #playchoices #choices: stories you play #playchoices the elementalists #cfwc fics of the week #choicesfebruary2023 #choices monthly challenge #te fanfiction #te fanfic #te

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theclassycandy · 1 year

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BONUS:

IMPORTANT NOTE - THE BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK IN IMAGE EIGHT IS NOT MINE. ALL CREDITS OF THE ART GO TO @888vampires ON INSTAGRAM

A/N: Hey guys I’m back on my elementalists brainrot!! So I know that there’s some difference in my headcanons again - like that my mc (Anna) makes art and posts it on social media as a hobby and that she’s a double major (idk what subjects yet). And Atlas grew up in a Slavic country (I’m thinking the Czech Republic) but making little stories about them is part of my livelihood now! Yes, these are purposefully set in 2020 (no covid in this au ofc) because I wanted this thread in particular to be set when they just started their junior year. These were really fun to make! I know that I have a horrendous track record when it comes to making a series so I’m probably won’t make a twitter AU one but I might do more! Please tell me if you enjoyed this and would like to see more! Reblogs and like really help out and comments make my day!

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kissmeawake · 2 years

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A Small Taste of Sunshine

Summary: Beckett Harrington has never had friends. Well, maybe until now.

Pairing: Mentions of Beckett Harrington x MC

Word count: 1.201

TW: None

Notes: I already posted this once on my old account, but changed the name and a few details, so here’s the new and, in my opinion, improved version! :) This takes place shortly after Shreya has made and handed out the friendship bracelets to everyone.

Beckett Harrington was sitting at his desk, biting the end of his pen and bobbing his knee nervously up and down. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed. 2AM and he was still working on his homework, which was not unusual in itself (he always wanted everything, absolutely everything, to be perfect), but, so far, he had only written a few words, not a single sentence, and was unable to concentrate, to focus, to stop his thoughts from wandering to faraway places.

And he had tried. He had done yoga because yoga always helped him concentrate, he had eaten chocolate. he had opened his window wide to get some fresh air, he had taken multiple breaks and he had taken off his blazer, throwing it carelessly onto his bed before putting it on a hanger and into his closet because he could concentrate even less in disorder.

Maybe he was sick. But no, he felt normal, better than normal even, excited somehow and giddy and…happy, he guessed.

He glanced at the bracelet around his wrist, like he had done so many times that evening, and could not stop himself from touching the tiny stones and tracing the letters on them.

Pend Pals.

He did not like the name and had told the others so, but of course none of them had listened. It sounded stupid and childish, but then again, friendship bracelets in themselves were probably stupid and childish.

His heart still started to beat a little bit faster just by looking at it though and he felt a small smile creeping onto his lips.

The thing was, Beckett has never had any friends.

Well, that was not entirely true. There was Katrina, who was without a doubt his best friend, but she always said that that was not the same because she was already his sister and he knew that Katrina was good with people, that she just got them and Beckett just did not and therefore he guessed that she was probably right when it came to these things. There had been his grandmother who had died six years, six months and four days ago - yes, he knew the exact date - who had loved him very much and whom he had loved very much in return. And then there was…no, that was it, actually.

He realised that it sounded quite sad, but he was fine with it, really. He has always been a bit different, has always liked things nobody else really seemed to like. Yes, sometimes he had been lonely and yes, sometimes he had really, really wanted friends. Once, when he had been very young, he had even had an imaginary friend, who had also liked books and had read even more than Beckett himself.

But he was older now, more mature and he barely thought about these things anymore.

It was weird how a small, ordinary bracelet had changed so much. Maybe not for the others - certainly not for the others, he knew that they were quite popular - but for him. For him, it had changed everything.

The times when he would walk into the dining hall not knowing where to sit and desperately looking for a deserted table were over. The times when he would sit alone and scribble something in his notebook during breaks, while everybody else talked to their partner or sat on the desks of their friends, chatting, laughing, were over. The times when he would go straight to his room after lessons to do his homework, do yoga, read, listen to some music, talking to nobody until the next morning, thinking about nobody because there was nobody he could think about and nobody thinking about him, were over.

Finally, there were people he belonged to and who belonged to him. Maybe they were idiots sometimes, but they were his idiots now. Shreya Mistry, Griffin Langley, that annoying Zephyr guy and Alectrona Knox were his four idiots.

Well, except Alectrona of course. She was smart and witty and very good at all kinds of spells, sometimes even better than him, which was impressive. When he watched her during lessons, and he had noticed that he did that quite a lot apparently, he saw that intriguing mixture of fascination and enthusiasm and intelligence sparkling in her eyes and he then had the strange feeling that he never wanted to look away again. Sometimes she caught him, turning her head in his direction and meeting his gaze, smiling. He had noticed that she smiled at him a lot. And he had also noticed that he quite liked her smile - her lips were very pink, her teeth very white and there were dimples on her cheeks and small wrinkles around her eyes. Beckett often wondered what exact color her hair was because he was certain that he had never seen that particular shade before. It was quite extraordinary and kind of reminded him of the sun. And how soft her skin was. Which sounded very creepy, but it was the truth nervetheless. When she had tied the bracelet around his wrist her fingertips had brushed his hand and he had felt a warm, fluttering feeling in his chest and stomach and had blushed immediately.

Sometimes he wanted to tell her these things, but he knew that he could not, that it would be weird and he did not want to make her uncomfortable.

He traced the letters on the bracelet again.

Pend Pals.

Now that he really thought about it, it did not sound so stupid and childish anymore and he actually quite liked it.

Beckett sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He decided that he would go to bed and instead finish his homework tomorrow when he was hopefully more like himself again.

In the morning, he got up and brushed his teeth, washed his face and put on his pants, his shirt and blazer. Before he left the room he hesitated, then he rolled his sleeves up, exposing the bracelet and the eight letters on it.

While walking through the hallways, his backpack slung over one shoulder, he passed some other students, their tired faces illuminated by the morning light, and he thought he noticed some of them looking at his wrist. But maybe that was just his imagination.

He entered the dining hall and headed straight for their usual table, not even looking around.

“Good morning”, he said, sitting down in the chair next to Griffin, who yawned in response and rubbed wearily at his face.

Shreya was reading some kind of fashion magazine he had never seen before, but still nodded at him briefly with a small grin and Zephyr, who was eating something Beckett had also never seen before and which looked, frankly, quite disgusting to him, winked at him.

And when he finally looked at Alectrona, because he could not not look at her, he saw that she was already smiling at him, her bright hair a small taste of sunshine and some emotion he did not recognize twinkling in her eyes, but that made his heart flutter and his cheeks turn a deep shade of red nevertheless.

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queenbirbs · 2 years

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raspberry reverie | Beckett x MC

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x f!MC (Cilla Bishop)

Rating: N*FW, 18+

Word count: 5k

Summary: Cilla attempts to bake Beckett a birthday cake. post B2

Cilla pressed her face against the oven’s glass and glared. The quartet of cakes inside baked away merrily in their pans, unaware of her ire. With a sigh, she returned to her laptop and skimmed over the recipe once more. The pretty FoodFlix host assured her that, after forty-two to forty-five minutes at 325 degrees, she should have four perfect, flat-topped cakes.

The half-dozen she has scattered across the counter would beg to differ. No two were the same. Some were too soggy, some too dry; some were shrunken, some sunken. By the third trial run, Cilla was cursing her own hubris for thinking that she could pull it off. She grew up enjoying baking, and she was pretty good at it. From an early age, her foster moms Marnie and Alison had always let her help out in their pie shop. Sure, her experience with cakes was a little lacking, but they just involved following a recipe of a different sort. The recipe she was attempting to copy, though, required a little more than the standard oil, water, and eggs.

Navigating back to FoodFlix’s channel, she resumed the video on how to make the filling.

“Stupid fancy four-layer cake,” she muttered under her breath, as if anybody was around to hear her at this hour. More than used to her talking to herself, her Arylu, Hopper, snoozed away beside the warm oven. Cilla had charmed the kitchen staff into letting her use the equipment here, instead of the sad excuse for a kitchenette in her dorm. Well, not so much as charmed, but reminded them that she was the reason shit did not, in fact, hit the fan the three previous years. She didn’t like to pull the hero-of-the-magickal-world card, but needs must.

Baking here also meant she had access to everything – appliance and ingredients-wise – that she needed. Aside from Sutton’s Salvia, which Aster lovingly special-ordered for her, and was the most vital of ingredients. It would turn this regular cake into a proper raspberry reverie birthday cake for Beckett. Which Cilla had to sneak into the student records office to learn. For the past two years, he had refused to tell her, claiming that she would set up some elaborate surprise party. Which, to be fair, she did – but a nice one, she thought, with just their closest friends. She knew that he didn’t like being the center of attention unless it was under the academic spotlight, but everyone deserved a birthday party. He nearly bled to death from shrapnel wounds while saving her life; the least she could do was bake him his favorite cake.

Satisfied with the instruction refresh, Cilla paused the video and resumed her music. Lugging the blender across the counter, she added in the raspberries and pureed them. She felt the tiniest bit of hope that these cakes would be the final batch. Shreya had offered to help her bake, but Cilla needed her at their study group session to ensure that Aster and Atlas actually kept their mouths shut. It would be a miracle if Beckett didn’t figure out their plans. Once a mystery was placed before him, he went full tilt into solving it. It was one of those traits that she could respect, but loathe when it didn’t work in her favor.

Finished with blending, she poured the raspberry pulp through a strainer. She sent a burst of Air magick to resume the video, listening to the pastry chef as she demonstrated scraping off the excess that clung to the bottom. After stirring in the sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch, she transferred the mixture to a saucepan to heat it. Whisking constantly to thicken the filling, her ears were trained on the chef’s instructions and the rock music still playing in the background.

“Cilla?”

She whirled, whisk held aloft as if she were going to brain someone with it. Beckett stood just inside the double doors, his brow furrowed. His gaze swept across the kitchen and then back to her. “What is all of this? And what are you listening to?”

She could only imagine what she looked like: sweaty from the kitchen’s heat, her hair bundled on top of her head, and wearing her threadbare leggings and an oversized Penderghast sweatshirt. Her immense hatred for wearing shoes meant that she’d kicked them off… somewhere, leaving her in her favorite socks. She wiggled her toes as she considered her response, making the little cartoon ghosts dance.

“My Samhain playlist. More specifically, Blue Öyster Cult.”

“That answers the second question.”

She lowered the laptop’s volume and evaded answering the first with a question of her own. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you,” he said. “You missed our study session, and they were vague about where you were. I couldn’t trust that you weren’t off somewhere battling some heretofore unknown psychopath.”

“All the psychopaths I’ve battled were pretty famous.”

“Is this you bragging?”

“Maybe.”

A disappointed sigh emptied out of him. “Anyway, Griffin was reciting the entire index from Balthar's Infernal Bestiary series and Shreya made one of these,” he sliced a hand across his throat, “to him, which Aster saw and predictably did not understand and asked if it meant to be quiet about the ‘secret surprise.’”

“I should be happier that our friends are terrible at keeping secrets, but honestly, that’s just…”

“Sad? Disappointing?” he offered.

“Yeah, a little bit of both.” Removing the saucepan from the heat, Cilla set it aside to cool and turned to face him. “How did you find me?”

“I portaled through the school wards to save you from Kane.” One of his eyebrows peaked in true Beckett fashion. “Did you doubt I could locate you across campus?”

“No, but I put up some of those blocking wards that Englund taught us last week.”

He flapped a hand as if swatting away an annoying fly. “No offense, but they weren’t strong enough to stop my Locator spell. Especially since you are wearing my sweatshirt—”

“Yours? It’s definitely mine.”

“I don’t believe the law of eminent domain pertains to collegiate clothing.”

“The law of finders, keepers; losers, weepers does,” she shot back with a smile.

He rolled his eyes at her, but his trademark smirk appeared soon after. “I don’t think losing it on your bedroom floor counts. But, childish adages aside, I can tell when you’re stalling.”

Carting over the frosting ingredients to the mixer, Cilla shot him a look over her shoulder. “Given the date tomorrow, I would think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing.”

She watched as his gaze tracked over the room once more, taking note of the measuring cups, open containers of ingredients, and rejected slabs of pink cake.

“Oh,” he said in a gentle tone. “I’ve never…”

“Had a birthday cake before?” she asked, more than a little bewildered. She was unable to believe that his parents, while not the warmest people in the world, would be so awful.

“Yes, of course I have. But it’s always baked by someone at a three-star Michelin restaurant and coated in flavorless gold flakes.” His nose crinkled up in distaste. “Only the finest for the Harrington’s,” he said with no small amount of sarcasm.

Cilla eyed the mess around her and frowned. How the hell was her cake supposed to compete with that?

“This probably won’t taste as good,” she warned.

“It’ll taste even better because you made it for me.”

His conviction seemed a little too cocky for her, given the amount of time she had already been trying – and failing – to produce a copycat of his favorite cake. But her well of positive thoughts had run dry long ago, and she would take all the confidence she could get. “Is it alright if I stay?” he asked. “Surely I can be of some assistance.”

She smiled and beckoned him closer with a nudge of Air magick, sending him stumbling into the counter beside her. “Beckett Harrington cutting a study session short to help me bake? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yes, well, you’re forgetting that I have two great loves: academia and you.”

It was only because he was so close that she saw the slightest hint of red flush across his cheeks. These days, it took a lot more than the bare minimum of a compliment to get him to blush. It became something of a game for her – one that Cilla proudly won more often than not.

“You’re sweet,” she said. “You can help me make the frosting if you want.”

He rolled his sleeves up and washed his hands, reappearing at her side for instructions. Together, they sliced and measured and added the ingredients into the mixing bowl. Working alongside him brought Cilla back to their early years at Penderghast. They would commandeer their favorite table in the library and practice spellwork or sneak down to the lab to conduct experiments. Not that they didn’t still study together, but with their different majors – his Thaumaturgy, hers undecided – their schedules had little overlap this year.

“Baking is a lot more peaceful than I imagined it would be,” he said, lowering the mixer’s speed to add in the powdered sugar.

“That’s because you missed the first half,” Cilla said with a snort. “It would’ve been easier if I had Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather here to help me, but you’re doing just fine.”

Confusion scrunched up his features for a moment. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She heaved out a dramatic sigh for effect. “It’s not my fault you Attuned aren’t cultured.”

“There’s an idea.” He all but perked up at her insult. “You could teach a course on Attuneless culture! The Attuned world cannot stand to be as insular as it has been in the past, and students need a more concise education on the subject, rather than hopelessly clicking through webbing pages to try and determine what they need to know.”

“I think you mean webpages, which is a term no one under the age of thirty uses anymore.”

“See? You would be perfect.”

The subject of her future career was something of a sore subject. All of their friends had declared their majors by the start of the year, but here Cilla was, still dragging her feet. It was hard to make a decision on the future when it wasn’t a guarantee, especially after battling power-hungry bad guys for the past two years.

“Teaching here would be the optimal choice. Penderghast is the leading magickal institution for a reason,” he continued. “The only other one in the United States is in southern Nevada. I visited once, when I was feeling rebellious about attending the same college as Katrina. It’s fine, but it is… extremely hot over there.” His features folded into a frown at the memory.

“You would consider touring another school an act of rebellion,” she said with an amused snort.

“I don’t mean to pressure you, of course. It seems that’s all you’ve received from the magickal world since your arrival in it. I know that Dean Swan has been pushing you towards a career in Blood magick.” Beckett reached out to brush a loose hair behind her ear. His lips curved into a gentle smile. “You’re always putting everyone else ahead of yourself. It’s one of the things I find so damned infuriating about you, and yet, I cannot help but love you for it. I just think you should do something for yourself for once. This is your future, and you should be the only one deciding on how you go about it.”

Humming as she considered the idea, she stopped the mixer and, after knocking the frosting from the beater, covered the bowl, and left it in the fridge to chill.

“Suggesting I attend grad school and teach here wouldn’t have anything to do with your plans to do the same, would it?” she asked.

“Of course. I’m not going to deny that selfishly I want our futures to align in such a way. But whatever path you wish to follow, I will support you. If that entails attending another college for graduate school, then we can easily continue our relationship with a scryglass and portal visits on the weekends, or you could teach me how to use one of those Attuneless devices like Picturegram, or rather,” he kept on, barely pausing for breath, “if you’ve decided that you don’t want to ‘do the long distance thing’ like Griffin is with his partner, then I—”

Cilla crossed back over to him and stalled his nervous rambling with a kiss. “No more of that,” she chided when they parted for air. “I might not be exactly sure of what I want to do after we graduate, but I do know that I want to be with you. No matter what.”

He all but melted into her arms at the reassurance. “Rest assured that I feel the same way.”

“Good.” She pressed her lips to his cheek. “And as for the rest, I’ll think about it. Seriously.”

“That’s all that I ask.”

A trilling noise sounded through the kitchen. Hopper sprang up from his nap, ready for action. Cilla rushed over to the oven, her socks sending her skidding the last few feet, and cracked open the door. The cakes looked much better than the last batch: they were pulled slightly away from their pans and were a light, honey-brown color. Easing her hand inside the oven – and ignoring Beckett’s complaints about her impatience – she pressed two fingers to each of the cakes. She didn’t bother to hide her goofy, pleased smile when they sprung back with ease. Pulling them from the oven, she settled the pans onto a wire rack. Aided by the small, rotating winds that Beckett waved to life, the cakes cooled in record time.

With her Samhain tunes continuing to play in the background, Cilla walked him through the next steps. They released and flipped the cakes and prepped piping bags. Layer by layer, they piped dams with the cream cheese frosting and filled them with a thin sheet of raspberry filling. Once the four layers were stacked, she applied a crumb coat. Combining her Water magick with his Air – and, after a round of insistent barking, Hopper’s – they chilled the thin layer of frosting and began working on the final layer.

“Where did you learn how to do all of this?” Beckett asked, watching as she heated up the metal spatula to smooth out the air bubbles.

“My foster parents owned a bakery. Best little pie shop in Ipswich, ten years running. We may not have sold cakes, but I learned a few tricks of the dessert trade from them.”

��They never mentioned owning a business.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a sore subject with Marnie. It went under with a lot of other small businesses in the last recession.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say something before? Now I feel terrible that we brought that pumpkin pie over for the autumn equinox.”

Cilla chuckled at his crestfallen expression and knocked her shoulder into his. “They aren’t going to demote points from you for bringing them pie, Beck. Now, maybe some of those trendy, upscale cookies they might have a problem with. Last year a franchise moved into their shop’s location. They’re still a little bitter about it.”

At the sound of scratching, she looked up from the cake to see him scribbling in a notebook that he procured from somewhere. Curious, she snuck a peek at the page to see each of her moms’ names, each with their own list of likes and dislikes. Underneath Marnie and Alison’s, he wrote in that neat, block print of his: do not mention “upscale [sic] cookies.”

“You have a whole page dedicated to my moms?” she asked, wholly unsurprised.

“You do have three of them. There is plenty to keep track of.”

“Do I have a page?”

“Cilla,” he said her name with a sigh, as if disappointed in her question. “You have a whole notebook. Possibly two, at this point.”

The notion filled her with an immeasurable amount of warmth. With a last few swipes, she finished the frosting and flicked a hand towards the fridge to summon out the last ingredients. Grabbing the bar of white chocolate, she grated some it into a fine dust atop the cake. After a magickal rinse and dry, she filled the top’s center with fresh, whole raspberries.

“Beautiful,” he murmured from where they crowded together against the counter to admire the finished product. “I’m touched you would go through all of this for me.”

“You’ve helped me take down a children-murdering psycho and a literal Source,” she reminded him.

He flapped a dismissive hand at her. “That was elementary.”

“You mean… a piece of cake?” she offered with a grin.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Sure, but you love it.”

“I do,” he agreed. His gaze was soft as it darted across her face, fondness lightening his features and the curve of his lips.

“And for once, save for the cake graveyard, nothing went wrong.”

“I concur. Your luck may be changing. Trouble has yet to follow you this–”

Cilla slapped her palm over his mouth and shushed him. “Don’t jinx our junior year like that!”

“Sorry.” The word was muffled underneath her palm, which she reluctantly removed. “But trouble does seem to follow you. By chance, is it your middle name?”

“It’s Eugenia, actually.” She half-expected him to pull out his notebook again.

“That’s adorable. In a 93-year-old Nan sort of way.”

“Thanks, Thaddeus.” He gaped at her and she smirked. “What, like it was a secret?”

Assigning Hopper to chill the cake, Cilla turned and started collecting the dirty dishes. Beckett stayed near the cake, biting at his lip as if debating with himself.

“You aren’t bored, are you?” he finally broke the silence to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“As I said before, this year has had a distinct lack of mayhem. And I cannot help but notice that some days you seem… perturbed.”

“I like the lack of mayhem. It’s a nice change of pace.” He continued to watch her, holding out for a proper answer. She caved under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Okay, fine, most days I do. Others, I— I guess, given my history in the Attuned world, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes I feel like something terrible is about to happen.”

Worry pulled at his mouth and furrowed his brow. He crossed the space between them and took hold of her, his hands clenched tight around her shoulders.

“I will never let anything happen to you.” His voice was thick with the heavy weight of his words. The surety of his promise made her heart beat that much faster.

“Beckett.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, to soothe and be soothed. “It’s the same for me. You know that, right?” At his hum of assurance, she smiled and squeezed him tighter. “But I do like the quiet. Especially with you.”

“Good. I do, as well. With you.”

Settled by her assurance, he helped her bring over another haul to the sink. Less than three snaps of his fingers later, the dishes were washed and dried and in the process of putting themselves away. They both turned to stare at the finished cake, sitting so pristine on its wooden stand. She didn’t even need to see his face to know what he was thinking.

“It’s your birthday cake.”

“We wouldn’t want to serve it to our friends without trying it first.”

“Of course not,” she said, playing along. “We have to test it, for the sake of food safety.”

Procuring a plate from thin air, Beckett cut out a slice with his Metal magick and conjured two forks. She made him cheers with their first forkfuls – another Attuneless tradition, apparently, going by the amused look on his face – before taking a bite. The cake was perfect, fluffy and moist, but held its shape nicely. The raspberry filling was just this side of tart, melting with the sweet tanginess of the cream cheese frosting. The white chocolate dusting and raspberries had been her own additions; she wanted some sort of personal twist, after all.

But the magickal qualities of Sutton's Salvia soon stole the show. The canned lights and darkened rafters overhead disappeared under a blanket of gigantic greenery. Between the leafy fern fronds and the velvety leaves of wooly hedgenettle, a bouquet bloomed. Maroon and indigo painted the fluffy, round blossoms of hydrangeas and moonblooms. Sprouted beside them were the curved, white petals of trumpet lilies and starkissed magnolias. Clusters of wisteria dropped down in sprays of purple and blue, its woody vine snaking through the upside-down garden.

Cilla tore her gaze from the view and over to Beckett. Deep in her chest, something caught and held at the naked wonder on his face. Not only had he grown up in the Attuned world, but a world of wealth and finery, as well. The chance to catch him by surprise was one she would always cherish.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” she whispered, as if speaking at a normal volume would somehow disturb the magickal display.

“I would argue that’s my usual face,” he whispered back. “I do think rather often. But yes, I’m thinking up a ‘line.’”

“Ooh, okay. Like ‘that sweatshirt would look better on the floor?’”

He shook his head and chuckled, warm and deep. Cilla felt the sound all the way down to her toes.

“That sounds like your kind of line. What I want to say is thank you, but it seems… paltry.”

“Why?”

“Because of this. All of this.” He motioned to the cake and then to the fading scene above them. “No one’s ever gone to such great lengths for me.”

“It’s just a cake, Beck.”

“It isn’t, and you know it.”

With that, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. It was probably silly that, even after years together, something fluttered in her throat at the gesture. Wrapping a hand around his nape, she toyed with the short hairs there and guided him down for another kiss. His lips tasted sweet when she ran her tongue across them. She felt the hitch in his breathing, heard the distinct noise of metal meeting tile. Then his hands were on her waist, holding her tight. A hum of delight sounded from her throat when he opened that lovely mouth of his and deepened the kiss. Stumbling backwards, her hip smacked against the opposite counter, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she arched into his wandering touch as his fingers dove under her sweatshirt and along her ribs.

“There’s nobody else here but you and me.”

“An astute observation,” she said, parroting his posh tone.

Beckett flicked his wrist and a rush of air swept the counter behind her clean. A bag of powdered sugar smacked the ground, sending up a white cloud. Cans of spray clattered and rolled, clanking against the prep tables. Indifferent to the mess, he lifted her up and onto the countertop. An invisible force of air pulled her scrunchie free, sending her hair tumbling across her shoulders. He wrapped the strands around his hand and used it like a rope to tug her head back for another kiss. A rampant hunger rushed through her, leaving her with an ache between her legs. From his spot on the floor, Hopper opened one eye and disappeared into the ether.

“I’d like to fuck you here,” Beckett murmured against her lips.

“What if—” Her worry was cut off by the distinct sound of the double doors locking shut. A breathy laugh escaped her. She kissed the corner of his mouth where it curled into a smirk. He grasped the hem of her sweatshirt and she raised her arms, letting him peel it off and toss it aside. Grabbing hold of his hands, she pressed them to her lace-covered chest. His thumbs swept circles against her, mirroring her hum of pleasure with his own. The light stubble along his jaw prickled, a precursor to the swift bite of his teeth, followed by the warm, soothing brush of his tongue at her throat. Marking her, she thought, welcoming the saccharine thrill that pulsed through her. As if anyone would even entertain the idea that they did not belong to one another. Not even bothering to remove her bralette, he simply yanked it down below her breasts, bent his head, and ravished.

“Oh.” She carded her fingers through his hair and tugged, urging him on. “God, Beckett, that feels—”

The praise was lost to a gasp as he scraped his teeth across her sensitive skin. She threw her legs around his waist and pressed her body to his. Sensing her need, Beckett grabbed her by the backs of her knees and yanked her closer. She garbled out something incoherent when he rolled his hips into hers, slow and tortuous. Arousal pooled low in her belly, syrupy and sweet.

“Feels good?” he guessed, those gray eyes of his sparking as he teased, smug in the weight of knowledge that it was. The fumbling, stuttering mess of a man she had cornered in the library long ago had grown into the confident one before her. She loved both of them – but this one, her Beckett, she loved the most.

With a flick of her wrist, the buttons on his shirt popped open, granting her access to the warm planes of his chest. She felt his heart under her palm, wild and frantic as it raced. Beckett wasted no time skimming a hand down her stomach and below the band of her underwear. She bucked up into his touch, whining when he teased her.

“C’mon, Beck, I’m—” the rest of her plea dissipated into a moan of pleasure when he slid two fingers inside of her.

“Wet already,” he finished for her with a groan. “I know. You always are.”

“Always,” she repeated. Her hips swiveled to meet his touch. “Only for you.”

With a growl, he dragged his mouth along her shoulder and nipped at her skin. A shiver danced along her spine. Another flick of the wrist and his belt slipped free and clattered to the floor. She dragged down his zipper, eager to feel every inch of him. Slipping free of her, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. The ache between her legs grew with a fierce, keening need. He stepped back and yanked her leggings and underwear off in one, clean motion. Her beloved socks went with them, which made it that much easier to rope her legs around him and dig her heels into his back. He chuckled at her insistence and settled against her once more.

“I love you,” he told her. The brilliant smile on his face could have rivaled the Sun-Att classroom.

“I love you, too,” she purred, tugging his boxer briefs down enough to free him. “Now, take off your shirt and then take m—”

Beckett took her mouth instead, cradling her jaw and crushing his lips to hers. They separated with a gasp. She used the opportunity to grab hold of his shirt and tear it off, eager to feel all of him. His breath was hot and ragged against her neck as he eased himself into her. Letting her adjust, he rocked into her, languorous and smooth. She rolled her hips to meet his and reveled in the heady burst of pleasure that came with being filled by him. As if he could somehow read her mind, he groaned and pressed closer.

“You are magnificent,” he ground out. His fingers dug into her hips as he drove into her, his skin slick against her own. A pleased moan emptied out of her.

“You feel magnificent.”

She bit down on the meat of his shoulder, marking him as her own, just as he’d done. Magick sparked and crackled along her skin. He guided her up and up, his palm grinding against her bundle of nerves just how she liked it. Her breath caught and held in her chest, a full-body shudder working through her. The pressure was too much, too sweet. When her lips parted, he swooped in and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. Bright flickers of light swam across her vision, like embers from a roaring fire. Swearing under his breath, Beckett followed her over the edge. He all but collapsed against her, his head buried in the curve of her neck.

“That was… you are…” he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Cilla stroked a hand down his side and giggled. “Maybe it was something in the cake.”

“Then we need to keep the recipe for ourselves.”

After a few, long moments, Beckett boosted her down from the counter. He pressed kisses to her forehead, her cheek, her lips. She glowed under the attention, feeling as though every part of her had been tended to. Scooping their clothes from the floor, they lazily got dressed. Her nose tickled as a burst of metallic-scented magick permeated the room. The detritus of trial cakes and spilled ingredients disappeared, leaving the kitchen tidy once more. The cake went into the fridge, where he warded it against anyone else’s hands but her own – making a show of teaching her how to do so – until his party tomorrow. Or, well, later tonight, she realized when she took note of the time.

“It’s past midnight,” she told him. “Happy birthday.”

He beamed down at her and took her offered hand. “And thank you,” she continued, “for not correcting me that it’s not technically your birthday until 7:39 p.m.”

“Oh, good, I’m pleased you’re aware. I did want to say something, but stopped myself.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m a changed man, Cilla.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Slightly… altered man, then?”

“I’ll give you that one.”

“And thank you, as well.” He stooped to retrieve her shoes from where she had left them near the door. “This is the best birthday I’ve had yet.”

“Because we had sex in the food hall’s kitchen?” she teased as she slipped her socked feet into the boots.

“No, because you did all of this for me.” He paused, then added: “Though the sex must be factored in, too.”

“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag, I hope you enjoy your party. It’ll just be us and the Pend Pals at Cafe Sirene. Shreya helped me book out the whole place after close. My first choice was the library, but I knew you’d have a conniption if we had food anywhere near the books.”

“I knew you loved me.”

Just before they left the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen, Cilla rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

“Never doubt it, Beck.”

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

I know it’s canon that TE MC has at least one living dad (per the “your father and I” note they receive at some point in book one), but whatever. My brain immediately conjured up two lesbians who lived in a coastal Massachusetts town and used to bake pies before I ever made it to that chapter. So my HC of Marnie and Alison Bishop is here to stay.

#beckett x mc #beckett harrington x mc #the elementalists fic #the elementalists #Kaila writes things #f: raspberry reverie #did I do a proper read-through of this? no! which means I'll fix the mistakes post-post

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storyofmychoices · 1 month

Text

Yoga & Pancakes

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist]

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC)

Other Characters: Shreya Mistry, Atlas Ernhardt

Book: The Elementalists

Word Count: ~900

Rating/Warnings: teen, suggestive language

Submitting to: @choicesmonthlychallenge ; @choicesficwriterscreations

Synopsis: Emma, Shreya, and Atlas run into Beckett at breakfast and Emma discovers a new Attuned food.

"Let me guess—" Emma began, quieting Shreya's excited tone. "Some famous Attuned chef I've never heard of but who probably catered an event for you has prepared some incredibly magical treat for breakfast?"

Shreya pressed her hands to her hips, her smile falling slightly. "You make it sound so utterly dull."

Emma opened her mouth to apologize, but Shreya continued.

"You've been spending far too much time with Atlas. We've got to get you back to society."

"It's not me." Atlas shrugged. "Don't worry, Emma's still the sunshine of our group. She's just a little cranky this morning... she didn't get much sleep."

"Is everything alright?" Shreya looked over her friend, beginning to think of healing spells.

"I'm fine," Emma insisted, brushing off Shreya's worry, shooting her twin a quick don't you dare glance. She looped her arm with Shreya's pulling her forward. "Now, let's go see what is so special about breakfast today. You were telling me about the chef and his specialties?"

"I wasn't but now that you asked—" Shreya began rambling off facts about the chef and private events she had catered.

Emma smiled and nodded along, trying to keep her eyes open when she was desperate for a nap. Not looking where she was walking, she bumped into a tall student in line in front of her. "I'm sorry—" she began, recognizing his dark blue blazer before he even turned back.

"Emma?" Beckett couldn't help the smile spreading across his blushing freckled cheeks. "I did not think I would find you here. I thought you were sleeping in."

"Oh, yeah," Emma's cheeks warmed as her gaze shifted to Atlas for some help, but she merely found her twin smiling in amusement, watching their awkward encounter.

"Why would you be sleeping in?" Shreya questioned with concern. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Oh, I think she's feeling just fine," Atlas smirked. "Just a little worn out from some early morning—or was it a late night—'yoga'." She added air quotes to the last word.

The hue across Beckett's face darkened at Atlas's words.

"And here I thought 'yoga'"—she offered, using air quotes again, "—helped you relax, you seemed quite exhausted but very dreamy—" she mimed gagging, "—when you returned this morning at... what was it... 4:30 am?"

Emma chewed her lower lip.

"Oh! OH!" Shreya's lips drew into a knowing smile of amusement. "No wonder you're tired. Keeping our girl up all night, Harrington? Impressive! I didn't think you had it in you. I bet you two worked up an appetite."

"I beg your pardon?" He didn't think his face could flush any darker.

"Okayyyy," Emma tried her best to move them along. "Look, we're next. Oooo, pancakes. I love pancakes. Pancakes are so delicious. Did I ever tell you the time when I was six and my parents made me pancakes shaped like a bunny for easter? Oh and they cut up bananas on the pancakes and added chocolate syrup, there's really no end to what you can do with pancakes. Strawberries on pancakes are also delicious. Did you know, pancakes—"

The trio stared at her, Beckett in relief and Shreya and Atlas with amusement, her rambling words trailing away.

"Would you like to say pancake one more time?" Atlas teased. "I don't think you've said it enough."

The cafeteria worker handed Emma a tray with 3 large, fluffy, circular pancakes. A look of disappointment fell on her face. "Huh, I expected more. They look just like tuneless pancakes."

"Oh, they're so much better!" Shreya announced gleefully as she guided them to a booth on the side.

"So when do I find out what makes these pancakes magical," Emma questioned. "If I eat them will confetti rain down? Will I make weird noises?"

"Not this time," Shreya replied. "These are no ordinary pancakes. They're shape-shifters. Watch this." She focused on the pancake on the top of her stack, concentrating on a single image in her mind. Slowly, before their eyes, the pancake transformed into the shape of a blossoming orchid.

"Woah!" Emma marveled. "How?"

"It's a centuries-old recipe passed down. The chef has yet to reveal the secret, but I've been working on wearing her down. She can't say no to a Mistry forever."

Beckett didn't dare contradict her. Usually, he'd love bragging about his superior knowledge—it was rather a simple spell. He had learned it at the age of five— but right now, he didn't want the conversation shifting back to him or Emma.

Emma focused on her pancake, her gaze momentarily shifting to Beckett, admiring the way the glowing sun kissed his face through the ornate stained glass windows. The pancake transformed into a heart, with a B + E appearing at the center.

"Bleh—" Atlas choked, before picking up her pancake, which she had turned into a mace, dipping it in syrup, and biting off the end.

"What are you going to make?" Emma questioned curiously of Beckett.

"I can think of something he could turn it into for her." Shreya wagged her brow, enjoying as the pair blushed. "Thinking about last night, Harrington? Be careful or you never know what might appear."

"Gross," Atlas mumbled through a mouth full of pancakes. "I'm trying to eat. I don't need any graphic "yoga" depictions popping up on the nerd's plate. It's bad enough I've seen them kiss. I can't stab my eyes out with a pancake dagger."

Shreya laughed, holding her hands up in a peaceful truce. Her mind quickly returned to the shopping trip she had scheduled next, the pancakes on her plate following suit, one turning into a long gown and the other a shopping bag.

Emma and Beckett breathed easier as the conversation shifted. Laughter bubbled between them as the morning sun shimmered around the space. Despite the teasing, their free hands tangled together beneath the table.

This is just a silly little idea that popped into my head. It's not edited, so please forgive any mistakes.

My Atlas is demiro.

#beckett harrington #beckett harrington x mc #the elementalists #te beckett #beckett x mc #fan fiction #beckett x emma #emma carlyle #choices book club #lovealexhunt #march2024 #choices #playchoices #choices game #shreya mistry #atlas ernhardt

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mvalentine · 6 days

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luna mckinley— the elementalists.

#she’s a sun + metal att #academic competitive witty dry sense of humor just like her bf beckett #rivals to lovers <33 both metal atts with rough edges #my beloveds #playchoices #the elementalists #beckett harrington #beckett x mc #oc: luna mckinley #my moodboards #my edits

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zealouscanonindeer · 2 years

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Jealous much?

Beckett Harrington x MC(Ellie Russell)

"Beckett, Beckett,Beckett? Beckett!

Beckett's head whipped around at her urgent tone. Usually he was used to her trying to distract him from his pondering over thaumaturgy research. But today her tone sounded different.

Um.. yes? He said with hesitation.

"Do you know what I would love?", she enquired, taking his large hands into her small slender ones. He traced over the small scar on her left hand between her index finger and thumb which was kinda his fault. She placed herself atop his desks , slightly trampling the numerous amounts of papers and books. His lips turned into a slight frown. He hated when she did that. The other day too she pulled the book from his hands and tossed it across the room. Which to be fair, was followed by mind blowing passionate sex but that wasn't the point. Although after that he wasn't in a position to complain.

"What would you love, my love? He said with a small smirk, leaning in to kiss her sweet lips but she pulled away with a teasing grin.

What I would love.....is for you to take me clubbing. It's clubbing season!

Before he could open his mouth to protest which she knew he would she quickly continued.

C'mon it's a Saturday night. You've got the whole of tomorrow to do this and promise I won't disturb you one bit tomorrow. Plus you know it's a new way of showing that you are official with someone and you are committed to your relationship. Everyone on campus is doing it.

What?? Are you serious? I can't think of anything dumber than professing your love to someone by getting hopelessly drunk and suffering from the worst hangover ever!

Despite his strong disapproval he scrambled off his chair towards his wardrobe to find the right attire when she held on to his hand , making him halt and face her.

She had a funny look on her face as she burst out laughing. Tears prickling at the edges of her eyes

Aww Beckiee bean! I totally made that up but...I'm glad to know what you would do for me

Thank God! He said inspite of himself. I can't help but possibly think people are getting dumber everyday.

But we are going clubbing right? She said with a hopeful lilt to her tone.

Yeah we are going clubbing. he said with a resigned sigh. He couldn't say no her

She squealed in delight, her smile warming his heart. She threw her arms around him wrapping her legs around his waist as he supported her weight with his yoga toned arms. She kissed him as he carried her towards the wardrobe.

They walked across Penn square, her heels clicking across the path as she slightly skipped in front of him, he followed her with his long strides.

Beck?

Hm?

I really appreciate you taking the time for me and stepping out of you comfort zone for my sake.

His heart swelled at her confession but before he could reply she pulled him into the club and the loud music and people filled his senses. He gripped her hand tighter as a reflex almost to comfort himself. They found a small booth and placed their things before she led him to the dance floor. The whole atmosphere almost began seemingly enjoyable as they swayed to the overly loud music.

I'll be back in a minute she said in his ear trying to be heard over the music. He nodded and walked back to his booth. He had enjoyed himself it was good to have her pull him away from the dorms once in a while.

He was consumed in his own thoughts when someone say across him. It was a pretty girl with platinum blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Her deep green dress highlighted her features making her pale skin seem pearly white against the green she wore.

Uh.. someone's coming he informed her.

Oh Im sorry she replied. She sounded kind her eyes regarded him as she continued talking. I'm new here and don't know anyone much. I moved here cause the thaumaturgy department is vastly superior as compared to the one in Denmark where I'm from she finished.

Oh I'm doing the same coursework too he said amused. It was not everyday he met someone doing the same major.

They continued talking conversation flowing smoothly. That was until she leaned in and squeezed Beckett's hand. Her fingers felt cold and he instantly reminded how he always held Ellie's freezing cold hands in his during the winter.

Beckett froze. Red flag. His eyes quickly scanned the room looking for Ellie. He had completely forgotten he was here with her. Unable to find her he quickly bade the girl goodbye telling her he needed to find his girlfriend. On learning that her face fell, quite noticeably but she composed herself quickly and gave him a meek smile.

He walked out into the cold air eyes scanning for her. He noticed her sitting on a bench eating a doughnut.

He sat next to her her eyes turning to his. The stark contrast of the warm brown eyes to the crystals of blue he had been staring at earlier struck him.

What are you doing here? He enquired

Oh yeah Shreya called it was a fashion emergency and atlas is absolutely no help.

I came back trying to find you but you were engrossed in talking to Barbie over there so I came out here and a sweets van pulled up so I treated myself. She answered shrugging and holding up the doughnut in front of his eyes.

He nervously nodded as she placed her head against his shoulder closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

At that moment,Beckett felt a small smile creeping up.He knew his girlfriend well enough. It was rare for her to feel jealous and he was not wasting the opportunity to tease her usually being on the receiving side.

Oh yeah she's majoring in thaumaturgy as well. She won the annual Penderghast scholarship you know. And not too bad to look at huh?

Hm hm

But .. he pulled her close and carefully whispered into his girlfriend's ear no one can rival you my love. I told her I belonged to someone.... For now.

Oh did you?

Yes. She appeared quite sad. I told her I would keep in touch just in case.

Ellie huffed For the record, I love you,you know she retorted getting up quickly

Yeah yeah I know he replied casually as he began walking off slowly to the portals leaving her behind.

Hey! Come back here and say it back! She exclaimed jogging after him.

PS - if you're curious as to how Beckett gave Ellie the scar head on to my imagine to find out. 👉 My guy

#beckettshales #the elementalists beckett #beckett harrington fanfiction #beckett harrington fanfic #beckett harrington #beckett x mc #the elementalists #choices the elementalists #play choices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #choices #Beckett Harrington x mc #Beckett x Mc

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