#i go through at least 3 pairs of sunglasses each summer

[xkeepitupx]

The most unrealistic part of the locked tomb series isn't the necromancy aspect or the teenager beating the grown adults in a wizards rat race: it's the single pair of sunglasses that never get lost or broken.

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[montrealmadison]

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here. 

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries. 

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know? 

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means. 

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special. 

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who  bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

[lesbianrobin]

hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀

this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:

The Introduction

4/10

hair is tragic

steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store

would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder

nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store

also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison

The Rich Bitch

8/10

thank god he ditched the khakis

hair looks much less demonic

it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer

he also gets wet

solid 8 for sluttiness alone

The Whore

10/10

wet

please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.

The Heterosexual

2/10

hair looks like he dipped his head in glue

bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong

matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie

you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice

The Dickhead

3/10

glue head pt. 2

at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time

The Cuck

6/10

hair slightly less glue-y

yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately

but! it’s green and green looks good on him

finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks

pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king

his morals are stored in the denim

The Final Girl

9/10

an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own

pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!

it’s fluffy!

that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!

finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog

iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!

looks good on its own OR with some blood on top

overall a very solid look

The Darling Little Drummer Boy

7/10

babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...

not quite glue head but not his best

apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater

almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute

The Simp

8/10

glue head is DEAD

further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos

this is his fifth unique striped polo

most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus

and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage

cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different

either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him

The Intellectual

9/10

i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!

literally invented vests

excellent hair

loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo

i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me

can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on

still a very solid look

The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This

10/10

yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too

anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive

excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else

emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy

stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black

The Meathead Jock

9/10

aw christ whatever happened to standards?

introduction of the blue nikes <3

god his hair looked fucking good here

could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/

shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length

fun sweatstain to customize the look <3

The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete

8/10

the yellow stripe was more fun

still cute though

The Sudsy Boy

11/10

wet

suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?

steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice

steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products

just need to make sure we all know that

excellent freckle showcase

his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind

one of his strongest looks

The Babysitter

10/10

his most versatile look to date

a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors

the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED

return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.

this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power

every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!

an overall win

The Chauffeur

8/10

we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half

cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis

red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood

i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors

that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more

hair looks very nice and soft

excellent look!

The Sailor Man

9/10

very precious

absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen

baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!

bright colors make his very red lips pop

shorts could be shorter

love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt

excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood

i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation

shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized

The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard

10/10

wet

shorts could be shorter

the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid

however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression

The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual

100/10

what can i even say about this fit?

the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award

manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly

bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy

excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look

simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe

hair has only gotten better

still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction

this man looks like he waxes his chest

this is steve in his final form

thank you for your time

[ickymichi]

I see we are talking about summer Issei over here and I would like to say I’m interested 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Imagine living next door to him and seeing him next door on the balcony. He would be so cocky and know that you where checking him out when you are sitting out there reading and enjoying the afternoon sun. He’s gonna make flirty small talk with you from across the balconies.

note: bby sorry it took me so long to get to this it got lost in the inbox !! i hope this filled your summer issei needs <3

but yes i’ll always be talking about summer issei☝️

most summer days, you spent them lying out getting every bit of sun you can on your sun lounger in your bikini n! shorts. not to spend the day gawking at your gorgeous neighbour, no not at all.

but how could anyone not? the way he waltzes out, glad in nothing but a pair of shorts and those sunglasses. bare tan chest with the slight patch of hair at his pecs and the dark happy trail leading behind the waistband. laying for hours on his own lounger, letting the sweat drip down his stomach. his arms behind his head letting his biceps flex when he’d lift his head to check his phone.

he’d have to be a blind man not to see the glances and stares you steal. of course he saw them, he always let you know he did.

today was like any other, book in hand, sunglasses resting on your hairline, and your gaze focused on what it always was. him.

“i’m not blind y’ know,” you never really heard him talk. just hearing the butt end of his conversations when he’d get the odd phone call. so hearing his deep voice like just now caused you to jump slightly in your seat. “huh?” “i said, i’m not blind and it’s not the nicest to stare, pretty girl,”

who did he think he was? stretching his arms above his head and stalking over to lean on the railing separating both yours’ balconies.

“i see ya all the time actually, starin’ like that. some may say it’s odd, others may say it’s rude. but i think it’s kinda nice to have an admirer, don’t you,” resting his weight on his forearms, he leant foreword and even though his eyes were shielded by the gold sunglasses, you still new he was staring right into your eyes.

“i wouldn’t know what it’s like to have an admirer, so no i don’t know if it’s nice, pretty boy,” his lazy smirk he always sprites grew wider at the name. “ooohh? you don’t? whatta’ shame that is. at least i do,” the laugh you let out was one of shock at his statement. how cocky could one man be?

“i should head in, don’t want your head to get to big,” placing your bookmark into the last read page, you stood and stretched your own arms before turning your back to him. “leaving me so soon? i didn’t even get your name i’m wounded,” you looked over your shoulder to see him now leaning his head on his palm, his sunglasses also now mimicking your own on his hairline letting you see those hazel eyes.

“(y/n), you happy now?” “very much so, (y/n),” the way your name slipped off his tongue sent a shiver right through you, making your feet move toward him on their own. “so do i finally get to know yours?” now your palms rested each side of his elbows, your faces just a breath away.

“issei, matsukawa issei, you happy pretty girl?” even is name sounded heavenly. “you just learned my name yet your still calling me that. i’m not that forgettable, am i issei?” the air of breath he let out as a chuckle brushed against your eyelashes yet you couldn’t look away from him. “not at all (y/n) just suits you ‘tis all,” “that so?” “mmhh, y’kno-”

“issei man! what’s taking you so long out there? we’re meant to be heading out now!” a slightly higher voice shook both of you from leaning closer to each other and made you back away from him at the sight of a slightly familiar strawberry blonde pressed against the glass door with wide eyes.

“i should uh, i should go then. same time tomorrow pretty gir- sorry, (y/n),” he pushed himself up and ran his large fingers through the curls that sat atop his head. “i’ll be waiting like always, issei,”

“so who’s that babe then lover boy?” “shut up you idiot she’ll hear you, now move it cream puff,”

[garbagevanfleet]

Sun King (smut)

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  18+ ONLY! Alcohol is mentioned, unprotected sex, unprotected sun exposure *gasp* Word Count: 6654 Summary: Josh has been your best friend since middle school. Maybe a vacation to paradise could change that.  Notes: @lantern-inthenight​ and @myownparadise96​ both helped immensely with the ideas in this fic, so this one is dedicated to my resident Josh girls, Shelby and Kaja. <3

Thank you to the amazing Mimi ( @satingrass-maidensfair​ ) for betaing for me! You’re a peach. 

Enjoy my first ever Josh fic, extra hot and wet

MASTERPOST

You had spent the entire day at the beach for four days in a row. It wasn’t often that you got to go on a vacation, so when you did, you really liked to forget the monotony of your everyday life. There really wasn’t any extra room in your head to think about your summer job or college applications with the ocean waves lapping at your feet.  

Your parents had been promising you this trip the entire year so as long as your grades stayed up before graduation, and it had been a struggle, but you had succeeded - the real hardest part was waiting from the end of school until the actual trip came, which didn’t roll around until December.  

Josh had been your friend since middle school, and an unlikely friend at that - or at least at first. See you’ve always had a really feminine lunar energy, a darker, deeper aura, but him?

Josh was the sun personified.

He had the most sunflower-petal-yellow personality you could imagine; his whole persona was a rainbow tie-dyed bed sheet drying on a clothesline.

But opposites attract, or they must anyway, because one fateful day in sixth grade, he had knocked directly into you. The force of it had thrown your tray down to the lunchroom floor, smearing mashed potatoes all over your new school shoes. You had opened your mouth to snap at him, but. Well, how could you? There was never any option but to forgive him when he flashed that big, blinding smile. Especially when he was looking at you like an apologetic puppy.

He had latched onto you after that.

Josh had attended every single birthday party since then and escorted you - as a friend, you assured your parents - to a couple of spring formals. He had been by your side when you tried summer camp and hated it, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been to a movie theater without him.

Your parents had been understandably suspicious at first, but after years of seeing his face at least three-quarters of every month, they had been given no reason to suspect there was anything romantic between you two.

So, that’s how he had ended up here in paradise with you. It was just a given that if you were going on vacation, so was Josh. Your parents hadn’t even asked; they’d just naturally bought an extra ticket for him.

He looked undeniably more well placed here in the tropical climate than you did, and you tried not to be envious about it.

You had spent a bit of time exploring the foreign shops and busy streets, but more than anything, you laid with him in the sand, staring out over the water and trying to get as much of the sun as you could, considering you wouldn’t be seeing it for at least another four months after you got back to the Midwest.

Luckily for you, your parents had not hovered at all. They had given you nothing but free time while they spent almost the entirety of the vacation at the hotel pool up to that point. Their distracted state had allowed you plenty of opportunities to find light beers and sneakily drink them with him. You had never really liked the taste of beer, but it was more for the novelty than anything else.

“Hey,” Josh said, gently pressing his fingertips into your side to get your attention.

You turned your head toward him and tipped your sunglasses down. They were the ones with the orange lenses that you had been absolutely intent on buying before the trip because they matched your suit. You decidedly did not regret your decision.

You hummed lazily in response. He was laying next to you on a teal blue beach towel under possibly the world’s largest umbrella, one tanned ankle crossed over the other. He returned his hand to where he had it folded behind his head, supporting most of its weight as he dozed in and out of consciousness.

His skin was kissed golden by the sun - almost from the minute you’d gotten off the plane- making him look a bit shiny the second he started sweating.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice a shade too concerned for your liking; although, in your lazy state, almost any level of concern was too much.

You glanced down at your phone which was positioned in between you, playing a very long playlist you had collaborated on for the whole car ride to the airport.

“Almost five.”

“Woah, really?” He looked around the beach, which was completely empty, saved for a couple of other stragglers that were staying well away from you.

You had five days worth of practice under your belt, and that had allowed you to find the perfect little slice of beach - secluded, but well kept. You hadn’t had to talk to another soul for the whole trip that you didn’t actively seek out, which was really what you had always wanted from a vacation.

“We should probably get back. Your parents said we were having dinner around six, right?” He nudged into your side, letting you know that he intended to move you whether you liked it or not, even if you had given him a lazy sounding groan for it.

There was no point fighting him (the boy was persistent if nothing else), so you slowly stretched out and prepared to be mobile again after barely using a muscle for days. He was right anyway - your parents weren’t strict in any sense of the word, but they were notoriously a bit picky about punctuality.  

He helped you pack everything into your oversized beach bag and then tugged you up into a standing position. He looked just as stiff as you were as he walked by your side, neither of you concerned with keeping a straight line.

You both instinctively headed toward the shower area, all of your beach-going gear in tow, and when you got there, you each wordlessly headed to your respective shower stalls.

All the other showers you’d used the whole trip had been different, but here there were only two cubicles with just a couple feet in between them. You let your heavy bag drop to the pavement in the middle of the two stalls with a thud, and he did the same, propping the long umbrella up against the brick of the building.

You had wrapped your hair up earlier this morning to prevent it from getting salty in the ocean, but you could feel sand gritting against your scalp as you pulled the scrunchie out, so you picked the bottle of shampoo you’d packed away as you turned the shower on.

It wasn’t particularly warm, but the spray was nice and refreshing on your sun-touched skin.

You had just tipped your head back under the water when the curtain on your stall opened, causing you to jump and cover yourself, despite still being completely covered in your suit.

“Hey, I can’t get the water to work in mine - can I jump in with you?” Josh asked and when you gave him a scolding frown, he offered you a toothy smile back.

“Have you tried turning the knob?” you asked flatly, but you couldn’t help but laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“Wow, I didn’t fucking think of that,” he retorted. “Scoot over.”

There wasn’t a whole lot of room in these little shower stalls - they were definitely only meant for one person at a time, so you couldn’t clear much space for him, but you did your best. Once he was in, he had to stand within inches of you to prevent from spilling back out. You squinted accusingly at him, entirely unconvinced that either of you could get very clean this way.

“This could have been such a nice, relaxing shower,” you complained, popping the cap on the shampoo and squirting some out in your palm.

“It still can be!” he assured with a cheeky grin. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Just for good measure, he mimicked zipping his mouth shut and tossing the key to the floor. You huffed a laugh at him, working the soap through your hair with your fingertips.

When you tipped your head back and let the water wash your locks clean, you let your eyes slip shut. You could tell that your cheeks were a little sunburnt because the water felt nearly ice-cold as it trickled across them, making you shiver.

Your eyes popped open again to find him watching your face. You huffed a breathy laugh at him.

“Hard to pretend you’re not here when you’re staring at me like that.”

“I’m not staring!” he scoffed, but his face turned charmingly pink despite his defense. “Where else am I supposed to look?”

You didn’t respond but instead decided to shake your head with a smirk. You handed him the shampoo bottle, but when you started to step aside to let him closer to the spout, he crowded closer to you. As he leaned in to wet his curls, your back hit the cold tile wall, making you gasp.

“Jesus, do you want me to just get out?” you complained half-heartedly, pressing a hand against his chest.

It wasn’t until he let out a wet sounding laugh that you realized he was jesting you.

“I’m sorry, am I in your way?” he asked coyly, ignoring your faux-annoyed groans as he leaned over you to steal the majority of the spray.

He was so close then that your nose hit his neck, his chest pressed flush against yours. The atmosphere in the tiny cubicle shifted dramatically for you at that moment, your breath catching in your chest.  

“Josh,” you breathed.  

You shivered again at the contact and, through your suit, you could feel your nipples perk up as your skin tightened into goosebumps. You could tell the exact second that he realized what he’d done to you because his whole body tensed and he took a step back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything,” he said, just loud enough to be audible over the white noise of the shower. His cheeks were flushed from embarrassment - even more so than before, keeping his eyes plastered firmly to the ceiling. Or, at least he was trying. Every couple of seconds, his gaze flicked down, almost comically across your body.

You couldn’t repress the breathless laugh as you watched him work to not look. Your heart was racing, making you feel jittery. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks too. His eyes flicked down to yours and he gave you a look like he was trying to tell if you were being genuine - if it was really okay.

You reached up to pat his cheek, meant to be a reassurance, but you couldn’t prevent your fingers from lingering against his warmed skin. Touching him like this was nothing new - you were what one could call “platonically intimate”. You shared beds and clothes, and every now and then he’d ask you to brush out his hair, just because he liked the feeling. But this time - like everything else about this moment - felt different. He leaned into your touch a fraction, nuzzling into your palm like a house cat.

Despite your closeness - metaphorically and physically - in all the years you’d known him, you had never once tried to kiss. You had thought about it once or twice, but only because you had gone through a boy crazy faze at the start of puberty and it made you question whether every platonic male in your life could be your soulmate.

But for a second you stared at his plush lips and thought about what it would be like. If it was anything like you expected, then it would be toothache-sweet, because that’s what he was like. Like cotton candy.

You pursed your lips tightly, suddenly overcome with a feeling that you weren’t used to. It felt dreamy like the color rose quartz. Like butterflies were beating their dusty wings against your stomach lining.

He was giving you a questioning look - brows tipped up at the center of his face in a look of concern. You could only imagine what your face must look like to him. You certainly hadn’t been regulating it.

As he parted his lips to inquire, you brushed your fingertips across them, feeling his breathing go uneven.

“Josh,” you whisper, gingerly placing your other hand on the back of his neck. He was so close that you didn’t have to move much to do so. “Will you kiss me?”

  He didn’t react for a second, just stood there blinking like the words hadn’t caught up yet. Then his mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried to think of a response.

“Of course,” he finally breathed, and the inflection in his voice - like you’re stupid to even ask - made you blush.

His face was already just a foot away from yours, so when he exhaled, the hot air hit your cheek.

The first brush of his lips against yours was experimental - just the ghost of a touch. You could tell that he wanted to, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to commit to it.

You scratched your nails gently against the back of his neck, urging him on.

He snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you in a fraction closer, hesitantly pressing your lips together, tighter this time. As you kissed him back, you could sense his apprehensions starting to melt away. He was gaining confidence by the second, letting his fingers play against the small of your back.  

Giddy with excitement, you let him press you back against the tile again until he was standing slightly over you, your fingers wrapped in his wet curls. The water hitting the back of his head was dripping onto your face, and it reminded you of those movies where the romantic interest kisses the girl passionately in the rain before the credits rolled. You had never been very into lovey-dovey movies, but he had always been a sucker for big romantic gestures, so you ended up watching rom-coms quite often.

You parted your lips for him, and this time he kissed you in complete earnest. The rush of feeling behind it knocked the breath from your lungs.

His hand was carefully sliding up your back until your skin met the tile of the shower, and he was forced to snake it up your rib cage instead. You knew what he was going to do, even though you were sure he didn’t - that his fingers were dancing along your skin at their own accord. So when his thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric of your suit it didn’t shock you, but the feeling forced a hum from you that he swallowed down instantly.

He rubbed over it lightly, and every touch made your whole body tingle.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, sounding painfully shocked at the way this day was going.

You couldn’t say you blamed him.

The angle was starting to make your neck ache, but you could only move slightly due to the cramped space. As you shifted, you felt his hardened cock slide against your thigh and you sucked in a sharp gasp.

His whole body tensed like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line, but he continued when you tugged on his hair - maybe a little too rough if you were being honest. He didn’t seem to mind at all; as a matter of fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he liked it - if the suspiciously hoarse whimper he placed into your mouth was anything to go by.

The fingers of his other hand trailed down your other side, thumb rubbing against your hip bone and tugging you closer until your pelvis was pressed against his. The sensation was too delicious; you couldn’t help but grind against him, eliciting a moan from each of you.

When his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazed the skin. You could feel him starting to bite in, and as good as it felt, you had to object.

“No, wait,” you breathed. “You can’t leave any marks.”

“Who said I was going to leave a mark?” he asked, sounding a little smug. You huffed a laugh at him, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were an expert at this.” The sarcasm dripping from your voice made him laugh into your damp skin. You opened your mouth to say something equally quippy, but the words got choked back as his fingers brushed against your core.

Your exhale hitched in your lungs, and when you were able to finally breathe again, it was in the sound of his name.

He added just a fraction more pressure, forcing you to bite your lip. He was about to go for it, you could tell, because he was slowly pushing your suit aside, and you were heavily anticipating his fingers touching your bare skin when-

Your phone rang, almost ear-splittingly loud as the tone echoed off of the tile. It caused you to yelp, and he pulled away instantly, face beet red.

Shakily, you bent down and reached past the curtain, pulling it out of your bag and answering it without looking at the ID.

He flipped the water off just as you said, “Hello?”

You silently prayed that your voice wasn’t as shaky as you thought it sounded.

“Hey, just reminding you that we’re having dinner around six,” your father said from the other end. It was quiet enough in the stall that he could easily be heard by Josh as well from where he was leaning back against the shower wall, breathing heavily and staring at the floor.

You swallowed the lump in your throat first before speaking again. “Yeah, we’re just getting changed. Probably be there in ten to fifteen minutes is all.”

Your dad quickly agreed, sounding none-the-wiser to your sins, and after you hung up, you tucked your phone deep inside the bag, like that would help keep everything a secret.

Josh’s eyes flicked up and met yours, his eyebrows raised. You were biting your lip, rubbing nervously at the back of your neck.

“Well, fuck,” he chanced, making you release a shaky laugh.

“Fuck indeed,” you replied, giving him a small smile. “We should get moving.”

He nodded in agreement, and after a second of staring at you, he stepped out, leaving you to change.

Neither of you said a word on the walk back to the hotel, but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable - just new. Uncharted territory.

Dinner was the same. The air felt heavy, but you did your best to not let your parents feel it, and you could tell he was doing the same.

He easily answered their questions about the day’s goings-on, easily navigating around the part where he almost slipped a finger into you in the shower.  

Try as you might, there was no way you could prevent yourself from thinking about it. You caught yourself staring at his lips while he ate, and thinking about the way he tasted.

The light was catching on his tan cheekbones, making his jawline look razor-sharp, and all you could do was think about biting it. It was a big difference between just yesterday when he’d sneezed on you and then laughed about it.

You think that was what was most alarming - You’d never thought of him sexually in your life, aside from the time a friend of yours decided to date him and then attempted to tell you what he was like in bed. As you stared at him from across the table, your biggest regret was cutting her off before she could say anything actually worth knowing.  

He stared at you over the rim of his water glass as your mom talked about the hotel bar margaritas, and for the first time in your life, you wanted to know what he felt like on top of you.

The closer dinner got to being finished, the more heavily your heart started to thud. By the time you were all standing and removing your napkins from your lap, you were sure everyone could hear it’s eclectic rhythm bouncing around in your ribcage.

You had never been more thankful in your life that your parents had insisted your rooms be in separate wings on the hotel - though you didn’t really want to think of the implications of that in and of itself.

Josh let himself into your room, asking your parents to excuse him. When your mother inquired about what you guys were going to get up to for the rest of the night, you shrugged and told her you were thinking about renting a movie and falling asleep to it - insuring her that you were beyond tired from all the fresh air and sun. She happily told you to charge it to the room and told you to text her if you guys needed anything, but after being here for five days, you thought you had it covered.  

They hugged you goodnight and then retreated down the hall, and you waited until you were positive they were gone before you opened the door. He had left it cracked for you - no need for you to fumble with a keycard, for which you were grateful.

He was at the other end of the room, facing away from you. He had changed into his favorite pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else, and you took a second to rake your eyes up the muscles of his back.

When you shut the door, you leaned back against it, your heart fluttering. You were so nervous that your fingers felt numb, but it was the best kind of nerves you’d ever experienced in your life. You hadn’t ever felt like this about a guy before.

This certainly would not be your first time - by any means. But. Somehow it was.

When he turned around, he looked at you like he was viewing an art installation. It took a second before he could snap out of it, tugging a soft t-shirt over his head and smoothing it out.

You couldn’t stop yourself from following his hand down his chest with your eyes, a warmth rising on your cheeks away when you looked back up and he was wearing a tiny smirk.

“Do you want to go back down to the beach?” he asked, voice quiet, but audible in the - otherwise silent - room.

You weren’t expecting that, and you could tell by the way he smiles at you that he knew he’d take you by surprise.

“Sure,” you agree, nodding. You were honestly a little afraid for a second that he was going to just pretend like nothing had happened. Your chest was tight with hurt for a brief second until he reached for the blanket off the bed, tugging it off the bed and rolling it into a ball under his arm.

No one else on earth could tell that he was nervous, you thought, but he was infinitely more transparent to you.

Just the fact that he wasn’t talking a mile a minute in the elevator was a tell-tale sign. He kept dragging his teeth over his bottom lip; something that would be just a normal, mindless tick for anyone else.

He let you step out first and then held the door from the lobby open for you, which was nothing new, but the way he placed a hand on your lower back as you brushed past him was. The touch made your skin feel hot, even though it was over the fabric of the dress you’d put on for dinner.

You realized about halfway through the walk that he was leading you back to the same slice of beach you’d been lazing on earlier that day, and for some reason that gave you goosebumps.

It felt complete. Full circle.  

Nearing nine pm then, the moon was high, and the only source of light as it threw white light across the waves. The wet sand on the shoreline shimmered with it like liquid metal as the water lapped over it.

There wasn’t a soul around. You two were well away from any kind of civilization, and that notion itself was comforting to you. Still, your fingers were vibrating as he laid the blanket out and sat, toeing his sandals off and dusting his feet of any sand before relaxing back.

You followed suit, smoothing out the skirt of your sundress over your knees as you knelt next to him.  

You cleared your throat, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, without a single hint of reproach. His voice was soft and caring, the way it usually was when he was assuring you of anything, except even deeper in its sincerity this time.

He continued. “If you’re having second thoughts or anything, then just tell me and we’ll move past this, no questions asked.”

You breathed a disbelieving laugh, suddenly feeling too big for your body. You weren’t sure why it took you off guard - he’d only ever been a perfect gentleman to you, and any girl he’d ever known, really.

“I want this,” you stated with a small nod. A smile that read something along the lines of relief spread over his lips, and he let out a held breath.

In the tenderest way you could imagine, he swept a lock of your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. A light touch, he wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck then, pulling you in just a fraction at a time until you were face to face for the second time that day.

When your lips touched the first time, it was soft and sweet - clearly trying to ease each other back into it. But you were already there.

You pressed into him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, and he met it with his.

As he leaned into him, his fingers danced along your bare shoulder, slipping under the thin strap of your dress and letting it slide down your arm.

It was nearly a hundred degrees hotter there than back in the still-frozen midwest, but you found yourself shivering as you pulled away from him and shrugged out of the other strap, letting the top of your dress fall from your bare chest.

His lips fell open, and you waited a second for him to do or say something - anything, but when he didn’t, you huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to pass out on me?” you teased, cupping one of your breasts in your own hand and giving it a squeeze just to watch him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he breathed, licking his lips. He grinned at you, showing teeth and all as he ducked in and kissed down the side of your neck.

You let his hand replace yours, his rough fingers brushing over the plush skin.

He didn’t linger his kisses in any one place for too long, no doubt being mindful of your warning about love bites before. That is until he pulled away and placed both hands firmly around your waist, helping you off your knees until you were straddling his lap. When he got you into the position he liked, his mouth found its way to your breastbone, pressing a trail of kisses down.

Your face felt fire-hot, so you buried it into the curls on the crown of his head. His hair smelled like the coconut shampoo you told him to start using years ago. The scent had become a bit of a comfort blanket for you - always put you at ease because it meant he was close.

You had never stopped to think of the implications of that until right now.

A gasp escaped you as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, tugging it between his lips. His teeth scraped around it lightly, making you whine, high-pitched and beyond lewd.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, pulling his face closer until you were afraid you were going to suffocate him, but knowing that if you did, he’d probably die happy.

He pulled away a fraction, just to flick his tongue against the other one, making your stomach tighten. You could feel yourself getting wetter, and couldn’t help but squirm against him, begging for some kind of reprieve.

You rocked your hips far enough forward that you caught his hard cock against your core, eliciting a choked moan from him. The tingly pleasure spread down your legs, to your toes and made them curl out of reflex.

His fingers dug into your sides as he pushed your hips back and then pulled them forward again, pressing you down harder into him this time. If you had any sense of reality, you’d know to be embarrassed about how wet you were after five seconds of grinding, but you were absolutely gone by then.

Slower this time, so you could really enjoy the fire, you rocked forward again. His fingers found their way to your thighs, sliding up the hem of your dress until his hands were cupping your ass.

Deciding that there were at least one too many layers between you, you pulled yourself up, untying the string on his pants and letting him wriggle to get them pulled down as far as he could in this position.

It was okay though, you had what you needed.

His head tipped back as his cock slipped against you again, this time only your collective underwear in the way. With his throat exposed like that, you bent to drag your teeth against it, not being as gentle as he had been with you.

“No marks,” he reminded, voice gruff, but his fingers painted a different picture - one even let go of your ass to tangle in your hair, spurring you on as your tongue lapped against his skin.

The collar of his shirt in the way of your path only served to annoy you, so you tugged it over his head with haste and let it fall to the blanket.

As soon as his chest was bare, your fingers were mapping it out, tracing along his collarbones and down his breastbone. Even in the dim glow, you could tell how sun-kissed his shining skin was.

The moon was illuminating his curls like a silvery halo, a sight so pretty that it knocked the breath from your lungs momentarily.

You were both breathing hard, not from exertion, but from sheer excitement, and you watched his chest rise and fall for a second before your fingers raked over his stomach and then across the outline of his cock through his briefs.

His hips tried to buck up into the touch in their constricted state, but even the minuscule movement made you blush. Knowing that you could have this kind of effect on him was absolutely surreal. Before today, you’d never even had the privilege of being able to dream about this moment, because it had never even been an option to you. But as you circled your fingertip over the head of it through the fabric, the possibilities seemed endless. When you looked up at his face, he was watching the movements of your hand with half-lidded eyes, seeming like he felt very similarly.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his again, his mouth hot and sticky against yours. As you dipped your fingers under the hem of his briefs, you could feel him hold his breath. Your fingers wrapped around his cock, giving it a couple of painfully slow strokes and licking into his mouth as he opened it for you.

Neither of you really needed any more warming up, so you caught his eyes and lifted yourself up enough that he could pull your panties to the side.

When you slid down onto it, you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You hadn’t realized how wet you were actually getting until you felt how easily it slipped into you. You didn’t allow him a whole lot of time to collect his thoughts before you were moving again, starting to pick up a rhythm as you worked yourself onto his cock.

Your fingernails were dug into his skin, using his shoulders as leverage, and surely they would leave marks, but you couldn’t force yourself to care. He’d think of an excuse if and when anyone ever asked.

“Fuck,” you breathed, voice an octave higher than it usually was. “Oh my god.”

He nuzzled his nose into your cheek, letting his hot, humid breath hit your skin.

Your thighs started to burn from relying on muscles you never use, but the second he started to feel you falter, his hands cupped under them, happy to share the work.

It wasn’t until he starting thrusting his hips up to meet yours that you really knew what fucking him could be like. The simple movement set your nerves on fire.

“Josh,” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers shook.  

“I know,” he hummed. “I know, baby.”

The pet name made your stomach flip. You’d never wanted someone’s affection as much as you did in this moment.

He pulled his hands from your thighs and held you firmly around the waist. With your arms around his neck, you were already perfectly set up for his next move. He tipped you back until your shoulders were pressed against the blanket, laying you out with him between your hips.

Your muscles were grateful for the reprieve, but the new angle had him driving into you differently, making your eyes roll back.

It had felt great before, but suddenly you could sense yourself working toward something more - a higher peak. Your body felt hot as you wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him by the hair into a kiss.

He eagerly kissed you back, biting down on your bottom lip, but not quite hard enough to break the skin.

With him over you like that, hair framing his face, everything felt like a dream. It was dark, but you could see the light of the moon catching on a sheen of sweat on his face, making his features even more intense.

Every single thrust sent you closer and closer to a pleasure you hadn’t been acquainted with yet until it got so intense that you had to squeeze your eyes shut tight and just hang on.

You came first, trying and failing to stifle a cry on your own, so he pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing it down. The feeling engulfed you like a wave, your fingers digging at his bicep.

He held you close to him, but it wasn’t until you were coming down that you realized he was whispering encouragement against the side of your mouth, sounding a little fucked out himself.

When he came, he let out a few choppy, raspy breaths against your face, his fingers wound tightly in the fabric of your dress.

You watched him come back to earth, and you weren’t sure if it was a post-orgasm haze or a real emotional response, but you were convinced in that moment that he was the most beautiful human you’d ever seen. For a brief second, you hated yourself for not appreciating it for all the years you’d known him. You couldn’t make any promises to yourself in your heightened emotional state, but you wanted to tell him.

But what the hell would you say?

He pulled out, helping you sit up. Your whole body felt weak, so you both just sat there for a minute, staring at each other.

The silence was entirely comfortable for you, but you wondered for a second if it wasn’t for him. If you knew him like you thought you did, he was probably reading the silence as a sign of regret and the thought broke your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

You leaned in and hugged him tight, pressing a kiss against his cheek and feeling him melt into it.

There was no stopping yourself from wondering if he was feeling the way you did. You wanted to ask, but suddenly you were faced with the possibility that he didn’t.

Heart racing as you pulled away, you nervously bit your lip.

“What now?” you chanced, voice so quiet it was almost swallowed up by the sound of the waves.

He gave you a sugar-sweet smile and dragged his knuckle down your jawline. “You tell me.”

After you both redressed and got yourselves looking somewhat presentable, he walked you back up to the room.

A shower sounded nice, but after a moment of consideration, you decided that you’d used all of the energy you were willing to give for the day.

So you changed into a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt in the bathroom, and when you came back out, he was already snuggled into his bed, smiling at you sleepily.

You huffed a laugh at him, but when you pulled back the blankets to your own bed, his smile fell.

“You don’t wanna come over here?” he asked, sounding like a kicked puppy.

You looked over at him through your lashes. At least a quarter of the nights you’d known him had been spent sleeping within a foot or two of him, but this was different.

“Of course, I do,” you assured with a sheepish smile.

You weren’t sure if you had been expecting to feel differently once you weren’t actively having sex with him, but as you crawled into his bed, you realized that you didn’t.

Nothing felt different, and yet everything had changed.

You laid face to face with him, taking it all in.

Once he figured out that you weren’t going to make any moves, he reached past you and flicked off the light. He gave you one, chaste little kiss before pulling you close.

+++

Your flight home didn’t start boarding until 11 pm, but you’d never been good about sleeping on planes, so you settled in with a book and a can of cola.

The seats were set up in rows of three, so it ended up being you and Josh sitting together with a stranger and your parents in the row ahead.

He was sleepy - you could tell because he kept rubbing at his eyes like he was trying to keep them open.

“Get some sleep,” you instructed with a giggle as he leaned his head against the window.

“Wanna wait at least until we take off.”

The stranger on your other side, however, already had her head leaned back on a neck pillow, big headphones covering her ears.

Through the cracks in the seats, you could see your parents settling in for the night, getting ready to sleep through the nearly eight-hour flight.

Josh was just barely still awake by the time you were sure your parents were asleep, and you were comfortable enough to chance turning to him. You grabbed his chin with your fingers and kissed him slowly, feeling your heartbeat pick up.

You wanted him to know that you hoped this was the new normal - that back home, you wanted to stay this close.

He looked a little stunned when you pulled away, just sitting there blinking at you, but after his tired mind caught up with itself, he grinned at you, showing his teeth.

He pulled your head down to his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek against it, lacing your fingers together and letting them rest on his lap.

Maybe you were going to be able to sleep after all.

Note: thanks again to anyone that leaves any kind of note for me. I fucking love them and they keep me going. <3

[peralta-guaranteed]

Family day playing hooky hc

(this turned into another fic. Apparently I don't make the rules anymore)

Read on AO3

It's the beginning of a long summer. Both kids are home - well, not really, since Amy has signed them up for several activities all around the city. Today is arts & crafts time at the children's library wing, Jake notes as he checks their shared calendar before the morning meeting. But they are home, insofar as Mac's school is closed for the summer holidays, and so's Maya's kindergarten. They drop them off at their daily activity in the morning, and the rest of the time they're at his mom's, who's been happily overfeeding them and entertaining them as the proud grandma she is. Or they drop them off at Gramma Peralta’s first, and she drives them to whatever place they were signed up at. It's a pretty good routine, and he's proud of Amy having found so many things for them to do that seem right up their alley, judging from their excited stories during dinner and the ever growing collection of handmade gifts on their living room shelves.

But they're home for the summer, and Jake and Amy have to sit at the sweltering precinct, slogging through paperwork and a dull week of almost no new cases. It's really not fair, Jake thinks. He remembers his summer days with Gina, when Nana would hand them both a couple of dollars and tell them not to be home until sunset at least. They can’t do that, obviously - Mac and Maya are still too young, and Brooklyn has definitely not gotten any safer since his early teens, when it was already questionably sketchy for him and Gina to stalk around the neighbourhoods and buy cheap ice cream and soda at random bodegas. He also remembers those few rare days when his mom would get a day off that did not need to be spent on catching up on housework, or when his dad would finally show up for more than one day and they could plan a little trip (which would actually take place at least 50% of the time). He remembers the aquarium and the zoo and the natural history museum and Central Park and Coney Island.

And they could absolutely do that, he realises, so the decision is pretty much made before he’s even set his bag down at his desk. But he’s patient enough to wait through the morning meeting - blessedly short, because nothing new has come up anyway, and they’re all told to finish up the paperwork and start on re-organising the evidence room. Jake supposes it’s a generally good thing that crime seems to slow down in the summer heat a little, but that’s not really why he’s so happy right now hearing the captain tell them to ‘find something to do anywhere’. He certainly knows what he wants to do already.

Amy’s morning meeting must’ve been just as short, because she’s already at her desk when he jumps down the last steps of the stairwell to her floor. Her uniformed officers mostly give him a quick nod or smile as he passes - it’s not a rare thing to see Detective Peralta come by to visit his wife outside of break times.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” He smiles at her, and she rolls her eyes with fondness. The title is still pretty new, and he loves to remind her of it any chance he gets.

“Hey babe. We’re not due for lunch for another 4 hours, you know that, right?”

“Yeah there’s no way I’m waiting that long.” He’s still smiling wide, and when she looks up from whatever paper she’s been filling out, she instantly recognises that mischievous glint in his eye.

“What are you planning?”

“Let’s bail the kids out of the library and go somewhere fun. Coney Island? It’s all open since last saturday I think.”

“We have to work, Jake.” Amy levels him with one of those ‘please be a grown-up’ looks, but she knows they seldom get results.

“Do we, Ames? Do we really? Because Holt has us organising the evidence room. I have literally zero open cases on my desk. And how far ahead are you with all your paperwork and organisation?”

She looks sheepishly at the very small stack of papers on her desk.

“About two weeks, I’d say.”

“And you’re saying we can’t take one day off? Just one day of family time? Getting cotton candy and taking Mac on an actual roller coaster now that he’s tall enough and winning a new teddy for Maya because you’re an ace at the fake shooting range?” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, and Amy stifles a snicker. It’s too bad her husband knows exactly how to win her over for most of his childish endeavours.

“I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to take some personal time right now. We’d still have to convince Holt-”

“On it.” Jake slaps her desk in excitement as he gets up, ready to race upstairs and sweet-talk Holt into giving them the day off (or rather, annoy him into it). Only Amy Santiago would request permission from her boss to play hooky, of course, but there’s no way he’s not going to indulge her.

It’s not even fifteen minutes later that he’s back downstairs, his bag already on his shoulder, almost pulling her out of her chair.

“Got the go-ahead, so let’s go!”

“Give me five minutes at least to brief Gary, and change out of my uniform before I leave.”

He sighs and thrums his fingers across his thigh, but obediently watches her talk to her ‘own Amy’, eagerly taking notes about the few things they actually have to remember to do. He refrains from pushing her forwards by the shoulders as she heads to the locker room, deciding to pack up her purse instead (he knows the layout perfectly by now - the calendar and pen goes next to the baby wipes, and the glasses case has to be by the little box of healthy, kid-friendly snacks). But the moment she returns in one of her signature flowery blouses, he grabs her hand and drags her out of the precinct so fast she can barely protest.

-+-

The drive to the library is equally as quick. Amy only manages to slow him down once they step into the actual building, reminding him of the library rules of being quiet and calm.

“Lieutenant Santiago!” The librarian behind the desk greets her - she’s well-known around these parts, obviously. “Back so early? Isn’t your mother-in-law picking up the kids later?”

He should probably call her to tell her about the change of plans, Jake thinks as Amy explains and asks if it’s possible to get Mac and Maya packed up and ready to leave already.

It’s absolutely possible, of course, and Maya proudly shows them the pipe cleaner and yarn figurine she’d just finished making as the kids librarian leads them out to the main floor. Mac, a few feet behind her, seems wary as he hugs them hello.

“Did something happen?” He asks into the hug, quietly, and Jake remembers with a twinge in his heart that the last time someone picked him up unexpectedly early from football practice, it was aunt Rosa, taking him and Maya to the precinct until Amy brought Jake back from hospital after getting knifed by a perp.

“No, buddy, this is a good surprise.” He hugs him back extra tight, ruffling his hair for good measure, and silently cursing his line of work being so shit sometimes.

Mac smiles back at him, luckily, but there is still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, and Jake’s excitement about his own idea of playing hooky falters for the first time. Maybe they should’ve just let the kids enjoy their crafts and grandma-time, and planned a proper day out for the weekend-

“Grandpa Holt gave us today off.” Amy explains as she steps up to the two of them with Maya by her side, and that title still sounds a little weird even years later. “So we thought we could all go out for a fun day at Coney Island!”

The squeal Maya lets out certainly changes Mac’s smile for the better, even as it is quickly shushed down (they’re still in the library after all!), and they’re soon dragged outside to the car by their kids the same way Jake had dragged Amy out of the precinct.

“C’n we get hotdogs?” Maya asks as she clicks her seatbelt closed and Amy smiles at her through the rearview mirror.

“We sure can!”

“Can we go on all the rides?” Mac joins in, and Jake is glad to see there’s absolutely no hesitation on his face anymore.

“All the ones you’re old enough for, sure.”

The questions and cheers and excited chatter keep up during the whole drive, even as Amy calls Karen and barely gets a word in, between the happy interruptions shouted from the backseat, and it takes a lot more to actually keep them together as they step on the boardwalk, Maya already running left to some game parlour while Mac races on ahead to the first ride he sees.

-+-

The rest of the day does not slow down in their whirlwind. Mac decides after three roller coasters that maybe he’s had enough (and Jake is glad they didn’t go through the food stalls before it), but he spins Maya around in the teacups ride like only an older brother could. The ice cream after is well deserved, seeing how sweaty and exhausted they are already, and gives them more than enough energy to hit literally every game they can see. Jake can watch Amy calculating the vast amount of money they’re spending in tokens, but she’s also the first one in line once they reach the toy-shooting range, winning Maya a unicorn plushie and Mac a knock-off superb-man figurine (his wife is a goddamn sharpshooter and he’d be lying if that wasn’t a turn-on). The third shot earns him a wacky pair of sunglasses that make both Amy and Maya giggle in that way he loves the most, and he refuses to take them off for any of the silly pictures they take in front of cutouts, wall art and weird statues.

He’s pushed them up into his hair by the time they get hotdogs (3 for him, 2 for Mac, one each for Amy and Maya), because the sun is already starting to set and he can barely see. Maya begins to shiver as they stroll down the quieter parts of the boardwalk, so he buys her one of those kitschy animal-hoodies all the stalls are touting (they know their clientele too well), and of course Mac immediately needs one too, so now there’s a tiny tiger and a slightly larger dragon running in front of them with cotton candy sticking all over their hands and faces.

Amy slides her arm around his waist as they slow their steps a little to let the kids go ahead, and he lays his across her shoulder as she leans into him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun playing hooky.” She mumbles, and Jake laughs for a second.

“Amy Santiago, are you telling me you’ve played hooky before? I am shocked. Here I thought I’d married an upstanding girl.”

He gets a soft punch to his side for that before she leans back and whispers.

“Actually, you’ve made me play hooky before, remember? But we didn’t exactly go to an ‘amusement park’…”

“And yet you’re saying this has been more fun. I see where I stand.” He pouts before grinning again, and leans down for a soft kiss. (He definitely remembers the last time they played hooky now.)

“Sorry, babe.” Amy smiles as she looks at Mac and Maya again, currently busy chasing each other and dueling with the sticks left over from their cotton candy. “But this has been such a great day.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna make for one hell of a memory, I hope.” He follows her eyes forward, thinking about that short moment with Mac at the library earlier today. Amy hadn’t heard it, he’s sure, but the look on her face as she pulls him to look at her with a hand on his cheek tells him she knows his thoughts well enough.

“Hey. No sad thinking allowed on such a fun day, okay? We had a great time today and we’re gonna have so many more great days in the future.” She’s still smiling, swiping her thumb across his bottom lip, where he’s sure some cotton candy is still left clinging. “We could take them to the zoo next week.”

“Santiago!” He gasps again. “Are you insinuating-”

“On the weekend.” She leans up to kiss away the last bit of sugar on his mouth. “Like the upstanding girl you married would do, obviously.”

He laughs into the kiss even as he pulls her closer, and it’s only Mac and Maya, running back to them with news of another stand they’ve discovered selling funnel cakes, that makes them break apart again.

-+-

Later, after Jake’s carried a sleepy Maya up to their apartment, and she and Mac have barely had enough energy left in them to brush their teeth and wash their faces free from all the grime and sugar that’s covering it, he falls down on the couch as Amy checks on them one more time to see both fast asleep before the lights are even out.

“Do you feel as tired as the kids?” She says in her deep, sing-song voice that sends goosebumps up his spine, just as much as her hand raking through his hair does as she stands behind the couch.

“Well, it’s been a pretty long day. But I do have more sugar in my system to keep me running, I guess.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but then she leans down to nip on his ear and ‘nonchalance’ is the last thing he’s thinking of.

“Then how about we save time between now and bed by showering together?” She whispers, and he lets his head drop back to actually look at her.

“We have never saved time in the shower together, babe.”

She only smiles at him while humming an M-hm before heading for the bathroom, and he definitely doesn’t waste any time following her.

[vventure]

Pairing: Ennoshita Chikara x American!reader

Genre: Fluff

Plot: Rain? Not ideal, but Chikara won’t let it ruin a perfect opportunity.

HaikyuuWriters’ Monthly Prompt Event - Prompt: Summer

Word Count: 2020

Warnings: None

All characters are aged to 20+

A/N: Me? Writing fluff? More likely than you think djfkd My family has been going to the lake every summer for about 15 years now, so I wanted to share a little bit of that while also including Ennoshita and his Capricorn stellium. From my research, those with Capricorn stelliums in their natal charts like to plan in advance, and the best way forward is through. Hope you enjoy! I tried to make it enjoyable for those who aren’t American as well <3

Dappled light sparkled over white knuckles as the small convertible wound its way around sharp bends under your direction. Your begrudging passenger, Ennoshita, held your hand as though his digits were a snapping turtle that’d finally caught its prey. He was no coward, but the bottomless ravines caging the road coupled with the seasoned driving of a person unafraid of kinks in the path of the vehicle set his teeth on edge.

“You don’t trust my driving?” You queried, peeking over to discover his normally shiftless face uncharacteristically tense behind his dark sunglasses.

You’d rented the car when your flight landed in America and Ennoshita insisted he would drive the entire way to the lakeside cabin in the mountains. Having never driven while placed on the left side of the car he did remarkably well; it was a treat to observe his handsome profile as warm air blustered through his short locks. 

The confidence he’d possessed then evaporated the moment the road urged him to maneuver around a curve, prompting your boyfriend to pull over and admit he needed his designated passenger to take over, explaining that since you’d grown up driving ‘this way’ you should be the one to do it.

You understood his hesitation. When you’d moved to Japan for university, the only transportation you felt comfortable using was the train, the bus, or your own two feet. These modes took you far, but Ennoshita took you farther by offering to drive when you were too intimidated to even learn.

In this moment, the regret rolling off of him in waves was palpable even in the open air of the compact car.

“I trust you, I do,” he spoke feebly. “It’s just that...are you sure you’re okay with driving? It’s been years since you’ve done this.”

“I’m sure, baby,” came your response laced with finality. You lifted his hand to your lips, skimming them delicately over the smooth skin of his knuckles as you approached another twist in the road.

“Pay attention!” He cried, his rock-solid composure slipping as his free hand clapped over his eyes; the car continued to glide smoothly along the asphalt.

“I am,” you intoned against his hand before smiling. “Relax! You never get this worked up.”

“Don’t like when plans change,” he mumbled, a pout creasing his visage.

“What?”

“I just don’t like when things don’t go the way I planned.”

“I know,” you said with an inaudible sigh. “Don’t stress, just go with the flow.”

“Easier said than done,” came his garbled response that you chose to ignore. This was just the way that your boyfriend was: he was happiest when things worked out exactly in the manner he had planned. 

“We’re almost there, smooth sailing now.” 

You could see him visibly relax from the corner of your eye as the road straightened out ahead, the turn onto the graveled drive leading to the lake house approaching quickly. The view that each person navigating the narrow road gained when pulling into the driveway of the wood-clad cabin made the rattling of brains over potholes and oversized crushed rocks worthwhile.

Pine trees so tall they could tickle the sky framed the expanse of the crystalline lake with powder white clouds embedded in pristine cerulean reflected along its surface, inviting any passerby to dip their toes into the chill water.

Hopping out of the convertible, you were eager to grab the groceries and assist Ennoshita inside when the lake captured your attention. This happened every time your family visited your go-to location for summer vacation. 

There was something about the lake that made it your solace. Not so much the lake, but the memories shared here, like kayaking through hidden alcoves at dawn, swimming out as far as possible until your brain begged you to go back lest you be captured by a non-existent lake monster, and burning marshmallows over a fire that blazed too hot for too short a time as mosquitos buzzed away from your bug-sprayed skin.

The lake acted as a looking glass for you, sending snippets of the past through your mind as you leaned against the front of the car.

“[Y/n]?” Ennoshita prodded, his arms laden with plastic bags. “I’ve got everything, are you coming?”

“Oh!” you responded, snapping from your reverie with a small smile. “Let me help you.”

--

His mind was almost always consumed with plans. Planning for becoming a physical therapist from the beginning of high school. Planning the perfect way to ask if you’d like to see a movie with him after he met you in a general education class at university. Planning out what you both were looking for in a shared apartment and how to make it the best location for your careers. Planning how to make your relationship permanent.

He hated the saying “Change is inevitable,” and throughout life he’d worked to ensure that no matter what happened he stuck to his guns and completed the task at hand, so why did this sudden alteration of his image for the day feel different?

Dread had settled in Ennoshita’s spine, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing stock-straight as he peered out over the tumultuous lake from the enclosed porch of the cabin.

The day had risen beautifully with the sun beaming along the peaked waves as boats skipped across the water. He was overjoyed to wake up to your beautiful face glowing in the morning light. Although the itinerary for the day seemed run-of-the-mill--preparing barbecue chicken and then enjoying a bonfire once it was dusk--there was something special that he wanted to spring on you that demanded perfection from the atmosphere.

The atmosphere was a fickle entity to work with, and his optimism surrounding the day was lashed down by pouring rain. It hammered against the once tranquil water and afforded the lake an ominous appearance, almost as if a monster was preparing for the perfect moment to show its grisled face. Dark thoughts were a hallmark of his mind on its descent to self-doubt, though he rarely stood at this precipice due to thorough plotting.

There was no way that he could explain this to you without revealing his hidden agenda. How was a chicken barbecue and bonfire supposed to be a special occasion? You’d tell him to move the dinner plans to tomorrow and order pizza in, problem easily solved. 

“Storms roll in fast,” you explained, your voice rising in volume with every step you took towards him. These were the first real words you’d spoken to him that weren’t whispered affections across the valley between your pillows in the dark. Translating for each set of parents had been all-consuming, but rewarding, leaving no time for conversations between lovers.

“I have to start the coals,” he said, placing his warm hand between your shoulder blades. “Where can I find an umbrella?”

“Let’s just order--”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, kissing you on the cheek. “The chicken won’t be good tomorrow anyway.”

“There’s a big yellow umbrella in the coat rack just inside the doorway,” you explained. “Let me at least help you.”

“No, stay in here so you can translate, it won’t take me that long to get this cooked up.”

Ennoshita quickly snatched the bag of marinated chicken from the fridge and the cheery yellow umbrella and made his way down to the grill to find your father standing over it, the coals smoking as they heated.

“You didn’t have to do that, sir,” he called in english to the man standing dangerously close to such high heat. “I was just coming down. Why don’t you go inside, I don’t want you to get sick.”

It was thoughtful of him to assist and save Ennoshita the time it would take to get everything set up. Now, all he had to do was dump the coals and start grilling. Rain sizzled along the white-cast charcoal nuggets as they cascaded into the belly of the grill before he put the grate over top. Water was already accumulating along the slotted metal as it sat waiting for food to be placed upon it. This wouldn’t work, the downpour might affect his ability to cook everything thoroughly. 

So Ennoshita sacrificed his comfort for the fate of dinner.

‘Not ideal,’ was the understatement of the year as Ennoshita stood in a cloth hoodie with rain soaking him all the way through. He steadfastly held the yellow umbrella over the hot grill as the marinated chicken cooked and took on flavor as though it were another sunny day at the lake.

No matter what, this was going to happen. He wouldn’t let rain ruin this evening.

It was fine if he was soaked, he could change quickly and meet everyone for dinner before the chicken was too cold. The best way around any obstacle is through.

The sound of the rain was so consuming that he hadn’t realized you were approaching until the rain was no longer sluicing off his face, a warm hand now firmly against his back. Looking up, he spotted a black umbrella now hovering over him to protect him from the elements. And to his left, there you were in your hoodie, your palm against his abdomen, and your eyes full of concerned love.

“What’re you doing out here?” He asked before turning to examine the food. 

“I told you I’d help.”

“Don’t they need a translator?”

“The language of afternoon judge shows is universal,” you quipped teasingly, to which he returned his usual bored look. “They’re okay for now, I think they were just preparing the side dishes.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said. 

“But I wanted to. Besides, we haven’t talked in days. I miss you.”

He smiled down at you, drinking in how your face still glowed with an inner beauty in the murky twilight and how the shine in your eyes never dulled by any undesirable circumstances. 

Giving you a small peck on the lips, he finally tore his eyes from your face and deemed the chicken ready for the family dinner.

--

Laughter flitted through the open screens of the porch where Ennoshita stood surveying the sight that greeted him once he was dried off and changed: five of the most important people to him stood around the fire pit. The rain had cleared to reveal a nearly blinding cherry sunset capped with deep plum, its appearance reflected on the now-calm lake it oversaw.

Japanese and English were quickly replaced by laughter as you reminisced and told jokes over the past, even Ennoshita’s least favorite childhood story of putting on a musical all about his stuffed animals for his mother surfaced in the jovial atmosphere.

Something about the way you stood, your back turned so you were merely a silhouette in the saturated light, had his eyes locked onto your form as you swirled and sipped from the wine glass in your hand between the two families he hoped to unite. 

People spoke of moments where everything dropped away and it was only the other person in front of them. Things often fell away for Ennoshita when he was focused on achieving a goal, superfluous people and emotions blurring, so he thought he knew what these so-called people were talking about. He was wrong.

Now he knew, watching your head tilt back to free the lilt of your laugh, this was the moment he’d been missing out on. Perhaps he’d experienced it during your first kiss, or even when you’d said yes to moving in with him—but this was different. The moment he’d planned this entire trip for had come, and he ceased his nervous fiddling. 

Although the day wasn’t perfect, you were.

“Chikara,” came your sweet call, your upturned face adorned with an affectionate smile reserved for him alone. “Come join us!”

The sound of your voice drew him from his thoughts, the square velvet box he’d been fidgeting with dropping to the bottom of his pocket as he made the journey downstairs to join the group. 

Any plan could change as long as he had you.

Taglist: @miyuswriting @burnthoneymint @bb-noya 

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Wedding Colors (Part 3)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

13:00—lunch. For the first time since the ominous day in July that she’d descended into the gloom of 13, Effie’s belly was full. As weeks had turned into months, she hadn’t felt hunger. She’d picked at meals and pushed unpalatable food around her tray. But now something was different. Flint scraped over steel inside her like the wind across her cheeks that morning. Her spoon repeatedly clinked the bottom of the bowl of squash soup. It took every ounce of restraint to not bring the whole bowl to her mouth and tilt it upward to collect the last drops.

Keenly observant, Cressida noted, “That’s new.”

“What?”

“You finishing a meal here.” She dropped her voice. “Are you pregnant, Trinket?”

Effie’s face flushed scarlet, blushing through burnt cheeks. “Bite your tongue!” she snapped.

Cressida glanced at Pollux, and Effie recognized her own faux pas. “Please excuse me. I wasn’t thinking about...”

Interacting with an Avox who was a regular citizen rather than a servant of the Capitol was still a new experience for her.

Pollux signed, “No problem,” and his brother offered the translation.

Effie returned her attention to the inquisitive filmmaker. “I’m JUST hungry. Must a woman be pregnant in order to finish a bowl of soup?” She whispered “pregnant” as if saying it too loudly might invite the situation. Or just as worrisome, Haymitch could walk in at that moment, hear the word, flip out, and not touch her again. Now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box of sex with him, she didn’t want to put a lid back on it.

“Okay. I get it.” Cressida was intrigued by Effie’s blush, but otherwise mollified. “You like the soup. End of story.”

It was golden orange in color and lightly flavored with spices that tasted like autumn. Ginger was recognizable, but the others were a mystery to Effie. Her experience with cooking was mostly limited to a course she’d taken a decade and a half prior at Charis School of Grace, Beauty, and Charm.

Her mother had insisted on “Finishing School” for Effie after she graduated from the Academy. The summer classes had been a compromise, since her father was resolute in his intention to send her to University. He’d even dipped into his personal inheritance to pay extra tuition when her test scores didn’t qualify her outright for admission.

“Charis will focus Euphemia on the most sophisticated etiquette and deportment, preparing her for marriage into greater wealth,” her mother argued.

“University will prepare Effie for a practical career suited to her strongest skills,” her father contended.

“Grace, beauty, and charm ARE her strongest skills. Face it, dear. Like you, our daughter lacks the talent to be a Gamemaker.”

“She has the talent to be more than a rich man’s wife.”

“If I were the wife of a RICH man, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Their barbs stung each other. After years of practice, the Trinkets knew just where to aim them. They agreed that Effie needed a path which would secure an optimal future for the family. Neither of them asked her what she wanted.

If they’d asked back then, she would have had one specific answer. And if she was honest with herself now, her deepest desire was exactly the same. If she’d voiced it then, her parents would have sent her to the Asylum first before anything else. So she said nothing about it.

By 18, she’d become a master at the art of knowing when to hold her tongue. She’d internalized the pressure to please her parents and reflect positively on her family’s name and station in society. The burden of doing so was a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Effie’s shoulders ached too from the physical work of gathering and carrying around large sacks of perfect leaves. She daydreamed about a bath full of bubbles followed by a nap on a real bed. Allowing the fantasy was a mistake because then her body screamed for it.

She wondered if even babies were allowed to nap here, or did they get merely a half hour of “reflection” before dinner like everyone else? Did they have daily schedules imprinted on their chubby little arms? Eat. Poop. Sleep. What else did the tiny things do? She’d never paid much attention to them in the Capitol. Had she ever seen a baby in 13? She couldn’t recall.

***

14:00—volunteering. The children would be out of school soon. Plutarch told her to expect them along with anyone who was between work shifts. Coin was allowing more flexibility than usual in order to encourage volunteerism. Effie considered the irony in the word spelled out on her arm in purple ink. Following schedules was mandatory. Once “volunteering” is tattooed on your body, doesn’t it cease to be voluntary?

That place made her head hurt if she thought about it too much. She pulled her rose-tinted sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, hoping the change in light would temper some of the ache, and help her feel less vulnerable.

“Ready or not, here I go,” she said out loud.

She approached the kitchen staff for permission to use large plastic serving bowls to hold the leaves at the tables. The kitchen manager, a middle aged woman named Cuire, put up resistance, muttering something about needing authorization from the president.

Greasy Sae showed no qualms about interjecting. “Now, those leaves ain’t all that different from a salad. We’ll have the bowls washed again long before dinner service.”

The older woman, with her hair up in a kerchief more plain than Effie’s, carried a stack of serving bowls through the doorway without waiting for the manager’s consent. She returned to the kitchen for more until every serving bowl in 13 was in the dining hall. Cuire pursed her lips but said nothing.

Sae pulled a handful of leaves out of one of the canvas bags and dropped them into a bowl. “The list of procedures here’s a mile long. Sometimes the only way to keep these folks from sayin’ ‘no’ is to just not ask ‘em. And then work fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Effie joined her efforts to quickly transfer the leaves to the bowls. “Thank you, Sae.”

“Thank YOU, girl. Gatherin’ up all these to make pretty things for the weddin’, you must be exhausted.”

“I had help. From Haymitch.”

“Did you?”

“I had to ambush him.”

“Nah. As often as that boy looks at you, I’d guess he went willingly.”

Ambushed and willing. Yes, he was.

Beetee wheeled up to her with several spools of wire, wire cutters, rolls of electrical tape, and several pairs of scissors.

“The copper color is PERFECT!” Effie gushed.

“This wire is at least a hundred years old,” he replied with little emotion, “The only reason it shows no corrosion is because 13 is fastidious about its storage conditions, including adequate air circulation. The gauge is small. The electrical current from present technologies, would overload and overheat it. The wire is rather useless actually.”

“Well, we’ve found a use for it!”

“In the absence of copper tape, this seems the best match, which is ironic since brown is typically used for high voltages. And high voltages would burn right through this particular wire.”

“We’re just making garlands today, not blowing out an arena!”

“You’re speaking non-metaphorically, of course. We might hope the propo will play a role in shattering the Capitol’s grip on the restless minds of its citizens... That said, it isn’t my intention to imply that YOUR mind is gripped and restless.”

A gripped and restless mind sounded fairly accurate to Effie. “I doubt the Capitol views me as its citizen at this point.” I guess that makes me homeless, even though my family home, my apartment, my belongings, my entire history are all there.

Beetee noticed her smile fade. “You might be right about that. ...I’m sorry.”

After seeing what her victors had been through and what they were still going through, she felt uncomfortable being apologized to by a victor who she held in high regard. I don’t deserve an apology, though manners dictated the proper response to an apology was a gracious, “Thank you.”

“Will you be staying to help?” she added.

“I’m needed in Special Defense. Bring the leftover supplies when you come down later.”

“Beetee, thank you for this.”

The clock was ticking. Effie went to work immediately, arranging leaves in alternating colors and shapes and adhering the stems to a long length of wire.

“What a beautiful pattern!” A friendly voice spoke over Effie’s shoulder. She turned to see Delly Cartwright whose blonde hair fell free of its usual braid.

“An artisan! Delly, I’m grateful you’re here to help with production and quality control.”

From their occasional chats at mealtimes, Effie had learned that Delly’s parents had been shoemakers, and 13 put her to work in textile production as soon as she’d turned 18.

“Me? An artisan?”

“You WILL be, dear. I’ve seen your stitching. I’ve also observed your congenial way with people.” Effie cut a long length of wire for Delly and set her up with supplies to work at another table. “Let’s spread around the talent.”

When school let out, Delly’s younger brother was the first to arrive, not wanting to go “home” to empty quarters. Posy Hawthorne followed close at his heels, skipping to keep up with his much longer legs.

“Stop followin’ me!” he told her.

“I’m not followin’ you. We’re just goin’ the same place, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re a baby, and I don’t want you sittin’ at MY table.”

“Cordwain!” Delly interjected, “That’s not polite!”

“I’m FIVE years old, and I’ll sit wherever I please, CordWAIN.” With three older brothers, Posy could hold her own in disagreements with just about anyone, especially boys. Effie admired that along with her manners.

“Aw, Dellyyyy,” her brother whined, “You’re supposed to call me Cord!”

“You apologize to Posy, and I won’t have to be so stern.”

“Do I HAVE to?! She’s just Vick’s little sister.”

“And you’re MY little brother, so, yes, you do. You know Ma and Pa would say so if—“

“Ma and Pa are dead!” Cord sat at the table with Delly and folded his arms across his chest.

Delly sighed, and her tone softened, “Cordy, honey, that’s all the more reason to apologize.”

His lip quivered, and he muttered in a hoarse voice. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry they died,” Posy empathized, “My daddy died b’fore I was born.”

She sat across from Effie and looked at her for a long fifteen seconds. Effie wasn’t used to children being so young. The girl’s dark hair fell long past her shoulders in two braids. Her gray eyes were deeply set. She had the look of a person who’d seen the shadow of death and kept going.

“I like your pink glasses.” Posy twirled one of her braids around her finger. “I used to have pink ribbons. Two of ‘em.”

“When I was your age, I wore pink ribbons in my hair. Pink was my favorite color.”

“Mine too! Gale says we can’t go back fer the ribbons. He says they’re gone. Do you think they’re gone?”

“Well... I...” For goodness sake. What does one say to a child whose district was fire bombed to rubble?

Cord muttered some more, “Of course they’re gone!”

Posy ignored him, waiting for Effie’s response.

“Your brother, Gale, is wise, dear.” Effie saw her expectant little face fall. “I am going to your district tomorrow. With Katniss. Would you like for me to look for the ribbons so you know for certain?”

Posy nodded.

“Then I’ll be sure to do that. In the meantime would you like to help make a garland? There aren’t any pink leaves, but there are other pretty colors.”

Posy reached into the bowl and pulled out a red one. “Can I do this one?”

“Of course. Let me show you.”

Effie demonstrated with a different leaf then watched Posy’s small fingers peel and cut the tape and use it to add her chosen leaf to the copper wire.

“How’s that?” the girl asked.

The tape was crooked. The leaf was crooked, and it didn’t fall in line with the pattern. Effie considered telling her so. Aemilia Trinket certainly would have. And for that reason if no other, Effie said to the five-year/old, “That’s wonderful, dear.”

Posy beamed. “You’re nice. You’re not scary at all! I’m gonna go tell Rory that he’s wrong.” She hopped out of the chair and skipped away, turning around long enough to say, “I’ll be back!”

Effie watched her go, not knowing quite what to think. Rory?... She couldn’t remember who that was. One of the Hawthorne boys?

“This year would have been Rory’s first reaping,” Delly explained.

Effie didn’t need to hear anything more in order to understand. The truth split her heart. Half of it dropped like lead into her stomach. The other half rose up into her throat, threatening to choke her.

The children are afraid of me.

Even without a reaping ball in front of me, they are still afraid.

In that moment, she didn’t have time or space to process the realization. She just sat there, forcing a smile, trying to keep the vacant feeling in her chest from showing on her face. As volunteers streamed into the dining hall, she swallowed the lump in her throat, pressed her palm to her stomach, and directed the project as planned.

More children arrived giggling and singing, 🎶”Come live with me and be my love...”🎶 It was the beginning of District 4’s wedding song, which they’d started learning in school. 🎶”...I'll take you out upon the sea...”🎶 drew them into conversation about how the ocean might look, feel, sound, smell, and taste. None of them had ever been to the seashore. They’d only seen it in books.

🎶”...To share the starry night with you...” 🎶 intrigued them too. Some of the children from 12 tried to describe the stars to the kids from 13 who had never been above ground at night. “A star is like the tip of the flame of a candle that never flickers.”... “They just pop out in the sky as it’s changing from blue to black.”... “My grandma says stars are ghosts that come to visit us at night. Good ghosts, not scary ones.”... “Ghosts ain’t real.”... “Are so!”... “Are not!”

Dozens of adults were there to cut wire and strips of tape for the younger children and to ensure the garlands turned out beautifully.

With so many helping hands, Effie had to let go of her precise plans. The work of other artisans became apparent as some patterns emerged which were even more pleasing than what Plutarch and Effie envisioned.

Boggs showed up, carrying his son on his hip. The boy seemed younger than Posy, though Effie was far from an expert about children under 12. Boggs sat at a table with the boy in his lap. The little one reached for the leaves just as Boggs’ communicuff started flashing wildly. “Damon, buddy, President Coin is calling. I’ve just lost my break time. I’m going to need to take you back to daycare, but maybe Miss Trinket will let you take one of the leaves with you?” Boggs gave Effie a pleading look. The last thing he needed just then was an upset kid.

Damon’s big brown eyes welled up with tears. He wiped them away with the backs of his hands which were filled with leaves that he didn’t want to let go. Since the epidemic, Boggs and his son had been on their own. Looking into those teary eyes, Effie couldn’t help but feel for them. The feeling seeped into that empty space in her chest, and eased a bit of the void.

“Your son can stay awhile, if you’d like. Then I can take him back to daycare.”

“Are you sure? He’s a handful, and you have a lot going on here.”

Seeing herself in the moment as “scary ghost” rather than a star, Effie definitely was NOT sure that she was the right person to be looking after a young child. “Of course, I’m sure,” she spoke through her smiling mask.

“What do you say, buddy? Do you want to stay with Miss Trinket and make a garland, or do you want me to take you back to daycare now?”

“It’s Effie. The only one who calls me Miss Trinket around here is Mr. Heavensbee.” She laughed.

Damon climbed down from Boggs’ lap and up into Effie’s. “Oh! Well, hello,” she said, pushing her chair back far enough to make room for him. He was heavier than he’d looked in the strong arms of his father. He squirmed around reaching for everything at once: more leaves of every shape and color, scissors...

Boggs’ eyes widened.

Effie handed Damon a roll of tape in trade for the scissors. “You can hold the tape, and I’LL do the cutting.”

‘Thank you,’ Boggs mouthed the words then told his son, “This is an important job, soldier. Effie is your commanding officer. Are you going to take this work seriously and mind what she tells you to do?”

“Yeth, thir, Daddy, thir!” His lisp melted Effie’s heart.

“At ease, little man. I’ll pick you up from daycare at 18:00.” Boggs kissed his son’s forehead, and Damon was already hard at work attempting to peel tape off the roll.

As Effie helped the boy put leaves on the wire, Posy returned, accompanied by one of her brothers who hurried to claim an open seat next to Cord. Posy skipped up to Effie and patted her head. “I got Vick to come, but Rory’s stubborn. YOU know how boys can be.”

Effie looked up from the table to see Haymitch leaning against a pillar near the edge of the dining hall. He was watching her closely. The expression on his face was a loaded mix of curiosity and seriousness.

“Yes, I do know how boys can be,” Effie agreed, “Especially when they are afraid.”

Haymitch had never seen Effie around little kids, and he was fascinated. The Hawthorne girl chattered on and on, tucking leaf stems into the top knot of Effie’s kerchief. Boggs’ kid was in Effie’s lap, crushing leaves with his hands and unwrapping tape for her to cut with scissors. A girl Haymitch didn’t recognize sat to the side, touching Effie’s bracelet. “Is this silver and gold?” the kid asked.

“This s costume jewelry,” Effie answered.

“What’s ‘costume’?” the girl wanted to know.

“A costume is... something you might wear when you are... pretending.”

The Hawthorne girl said to the other one, “You can wear one of my pink ribbons sometime, and we can pretend to be twins... if Effie finds my ribbons in 12 tomorrow.”

Effie locked eyes with Haymitch. “I promised I’d look, Posy, but please don’t get your hopes up, dear.”

He was trying to make sense of the situation. Effie’s going to 12 tomorrow? Why? And why is nobody telling me anything! Pissed off, he started to walk away.

“Excuse me, girls. Damon, let’s go talk to Haymitch for a few minutes.” Effie stood up, holding the boy on her hip as Boggs had done. “Haymitch! Wait...” She caught up to him before the staircase. If he’d really wanted to avoid her, he would have already been long gone.

“What are you thinking!?” he asked, unsure of what he was wondering about most... Why was Effie going to 12 where the burned corpses of his people were still rotting? Why didn’t she tell him about her plans? And what the hell was his heart doing as he watched her with those little kids?

“Annie needs help selecting one of Cinna’s dresses for the wedding, and Katniss asked if I could go with them for support. So, of course, I said yes. ...Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me nothing, sweetheart. But it’s bad there. You’re going to see things that’ll change you.”

“I’m already changing.” She boosted the kid up on her hip. “There’s nothing I can do to stop that. ...And I don’t think I want to stop it.”

Damon dropped the leaves and rubbed his eyes. “Are you tired... buddy?” Effie hesitantly used one of Boggs’ nicknames for the boy. He shook his head ‘no’, but rubbed his eyes again. “How about we take these leaves to daycare so you can show your daddy?”

Damon nodded and opened his hands to the floor where the leaves had fallen. Haymitch bent to pick them up and handed them back to the kid. He stood close to them. Effie smelled like the woods, faintly like ginger, and mostly like her. The fragrances helped him feel less agitated. They were familiar, as if less was changing all at once.

“Thank you,” she said about the leaves, “Will you please tell Delly where I’m going and ask her to stay until I return?”

“Sure”

She rested her palm on Haymitch’s shirt where his sweater gaped open. She brushed her fingertips along the buttons. “Will YOU stay until I return? I could really use your help hanging these garlands in Special Defense.”

Her touch felt too good for him to say no.

The peace in his expression was answer enough for her.

As he watched her walk away, a smile crept over his face. He was far too amused to remind Effie that the Hawthorne girl had embellished her head wrap with at least a dozen leaves. In all the years, it was the best *wig* he’d seen her wear. If she was going to roam around 13 looking like a tree, then who was he to stop her?

[kirishwima]

RFA + minor trio (or duo, if you don’t wanna do Vand.) with an foreign MC who always keeps at least 3 knives on them at all times. And knows how to handle guns. And is overall just badass

ooo im just imagining a badass Black Widow-esque MC lol, i love it! I love even more how there's no explanation as to how or why they know how to handle guns and knives, even better 😆

YOOSUNG:

* Baby boy is SPOOKED

* MC is so sweet, gentle and patient with him...he never once thought of them as anything less than an innocent angel

* Yet one night they're lounging around at his apartment, when there's a loud thud from the other room that startles them both

* Yoosung's scared, sure, but he tries to gulp down his fear, ready to protect MC if need be-that's what a good boyfriend should do afterall!

* Well...or not, seeing how MC is already up from the couch with a knfie in each hand-where did those even come from?! Already taking cautious steps towards the door the thud came from

* They kick the door open with their leg, brandishing their knives when they check the perimeter, realising it's just a box with trinkets that fell from the edge it sat on

* Yoosung has...a lot of questions

*But well, MC turns and looks at him with their usual sweet expression and he just swallows down any comments he had. Why ask what doesn't need to be answered?

* From now on he's always cowering behind MC when something spooks him, and threatens Zen or Seven with MC when they tease him

ZEN:

* He got a new role as the villain that shoots the hero at the final scene-the director asked him to use a real gun but without any bullets inside to 'make it more realistic', or so he said

* Well, Zen has never even held a gun before; no just because he rode a motorcycle doesnt mean he was some gangster that shot up banks, like Seven insists he must've

* So when he comes home baffled, flopping down on the couch besides MC, they of course ask him what's wrong, why he's frowning the way he did.

* When he explains what's wrong, MC shrugs. 'That's all? I can teach you' they say, and shoot up from the couch, leaving Zen to stare at their retreating figure with wide eyes.

* MC...would teach him how to use a gun? Sure they were really cool and he could tell they feared near next to nothing, but guns...?

* Well, he's even more baffled when MC comes out of their bedroom with a gun in each hand, twirling them around their fingers with practices ease

* 'Come on, get up' they say and not to the backdoor, 'we're going to learn how to shoot-without bullets though, because while I love you, I don't trust you with a loaded gun just yet' they add with a teasing smirk.

* Well, Zen follows along like a wobbly noodle, his hands shaking as MC hands him a pistol, guiding him through to the correct stance and hold of it. He has so, so many questions, but none of them come out, lodged in his throat like a fish bone.

* He can't say he hates this though-the way MC stands behind him, leaning one leg between his to bend his knees, how they wrap their hands around his forearms, snaking from behind his back as they hold the gun together, MC's voice breathy beside his ear.

* "Baby...be honest with me. Are you some secret foreign spy or something?"

* MC laughs, soft and devious and like music to Zen's ears.

* "That's for me to know and for you to find out" they say with a teasing wink, their accent thicker than usual, and oh boy-if Zen has a Beast inside him, then MC has a whole darn savage garden, and he's more than eager to unleash it.

JAEHEE:

* She notices bits and pieces of MC that puzzle her; their hyper-alertness to the tiniest sound, their stance-tall, proud, always ready to pounce like an alpha predator, how they'll hide Jaehee behind them at the slightest sign of danger; Jaehee figured MC was just a very cautious person, but realises soon enough that there must be something more than that happening.

* She finds out when, one day, a group of raggedy looking men come into their cafe, the one leading the pack wearing sunglasses and a cap as if to remain anonymous, speaking loudly in a different language Jaehee couldn't quite pin-point, but figured it mist be Slavic.

* She didn't pay any mind-MC was up front as the cashier today, and Jaehee was in the back preparing drinks, so she wouldn't be the one dealing with them. She did however flash the group a smile as their attention shifted to her, swiftly going back to her work.

* She heard them mutter something amongst themselves with a sly laugh, but again, she couldn't know what they were saying, so she kept her attention still on the espresso machine, watching the beans slowly get grounded into fine dust.

* Well, MC apparently more than understood what the men said-with a thud they tugged the leader-dude's shirt by the collar, bringng him inches away from their face, their mouth forming a vicious snarl as they said something to him in a low growly voice, and surprisingly, in the same language as the men spoke.

* MC let the man go with a final push away from the counter, taking pride in the way he stumbled back, his mouth agape; he immediatly nodded to his lackies who all run right behind him and straight out the door, much to Jaehee's shock.

* "MC...what just-"

"They commented on your body. I said that you're under my protection, so they shouldn't even look your way like that again." MC supplied, and with a shrug went back to their usual customer service smile.

* Jaehee didn't ask what 'under my protection' meant for MC-she was just secretly happy for her brave, badass partner.

JUMIN:

* He's very observant-and he can see crystal clear that there’s more to MC than meets the eye.

* He loves them-of course he does, and their mystique aura makes them all the more alluring to him, from the thick accent that rolls of their tongue, to their confident strut as they walk down the street, to the knives strapped on their thighs....

* Wait. Wait wait, KNIVES?!

* He notices them the first time when they’re walking downtown with MC, their bodyguards merely a few feet behind, when some crazed fangirl ran up to the couple, screaming incoherencies at Jumin’s face.

* The bodyguards were quick to act, running straight ahead and taking the fangirl away from the pair, but Jumin’s eyes are razor sharp; he didn’t miss the way MC’s hand calmly went to the slit of their flowy summer dress, dragging the hem a little higher, the flash of metal peeking off of their thigh tight on a garter.

* He doesn’t mention it straight away, but later on, at dinner, he calmly asks if MC is currently armed, and MC nonchalantly answers ‘Yea, always’, while taking a sip of their wine.

* He hums in agreement, nodding slow as he processes their reply. “What are you armed with?”

* MC smirks, leaning closer across the table, a cat-like curiosity in their gaze. “Knives, sometimes a gun, my dashing good looks-you name it and I probably have it on my person.”

* Jumin smiles. “I’m glad you take your safety this seriously my love. It makes me feel safe to know you can protect yourself if the need arises.”

* The conversation ends at that, the pair going back to their casual conversation...but not before Jumin takes a sip of his wine, eyes fluttering shut before they open again, piercing and staring right to MC with pupils blown wide.

* “I suppose I’ll have to carefully examine just what weapons it is you have on you. For your own safety, of course.”

* And well, MC ain’t about to say no to that lmao

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

* Hoo boy

* He’s already curious when his background check on MC brings back pretty much nothing, except their upbringing in a foreign country, and an overall normal-seeming facebook account.

* But Seven’s not satisfied. Nobody’s background is that clean. Nobody’s. So he digs more, more, more, yet still there’s nothing, and his curiosity is peaqued, his eyes narrowed as he looks to the cameras in Rika’s apartment, seeing MC nonchalantly lounge on the couch, playing on their phone.

* “I’ll find out just what it is you’re hiding” he vows, ignoring the flush of his cheeks as MC looks up to the camera with a cheeky smile, knowing exactly what it is they’re doing.

* He finds out just what it is that interested him so in MC when he dashes to the apartment, seeing MC struggle with a man who could only be the hacker, broken glass pieces at their feet from the broken window.

* He’s about to step in, tackle the man to the ground and protect MC-only he doesn’t have to. MC takes the man down in a swift movement, using their smaller frame to the man to sneak behind him and kick his shins, tumbling him down and stradling his chest to keep him in place, despite the glass chunks that are probably digging into the hacker’s back.

* More so, they pull up their skirt, bringing a knife up from the hilt, bringing it to the man’s throat with a warning growl.

* Seven...has no idea what he’s doing there, other than just staring at the two people in front of him, not until the security system’s activated and targets the hacker, who flees without so much as a word to Seven.

* “I uh. I see you had it all under control” he says with a stutter, his eyes wide. MC stands up, wiping gunk and blood off of their cheek as they turn to Seven with a grin. “Sure did, but I could always use some extra help” they tell him and oh boy. Oh fuck his life, Seven’s hooked around this person’s sharp, bloody little finger.

* He doesn’t want to scout them into his agency, because he doesn’t want this sort of life for MC-but he will ask for their assistance with missions sometimes, konwing they can more than take care of themselves when the need arises.

* Just a badass but also memey couple really lol

V/JIHYUN:

* After his first unsuccesful attempt to save MC from Rika, he’s worried how MC will fare until he comes to their rescue, if they’ll be hurt in their attempt to escape.

* Well...whatever he was expecting, he certaintly did not expect this.

* He didn’t expect to come back to the cult, only to find MC already roundhouse kicking a vial of elixir from Ray’s hands, kicking it into the ground and pummeling straight into Ray to bring him down before he could attack her, then moving straight to the rest of the Believers, fighting 4-on-1 with so much ease it looked almost like a scene out of a video game.

* V’s lost for a moment before MC turns to him, wiping sweat off their brow as he looks on in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?” they ask, grabbing his hand as they tug him along, “we have to go! Come on!”

* Seven’s skills were pretty much unecessary in their escape lmao, but he’s still glad he tagged along to help the pair escape.

* When in the safety of the faraway cabin, and without anyone having to actually take the elixir this time, V sits dumbfounded, looking to MC like they’re some sort of vicious god.

* “How-how did you do all of that? You just-” he remembers the ease they fought men twice their size off, how they even pulled a knife on one to intimidate him before he could so much as raise a finger to hurt V. “You’re so...strong” he decides, lost for words.

* MC shrugs. “I just do a lot of upper body exercises at the gym. And TRX. It’s good strength training.”

* Honestly....V’s route flows so much easier with this badass MC by his side lol. Rika doesn’t stand a chance to hurt anyone with MC here.

RAY/SAERAN/UNKNOWN:

* Their skills were not, in fact, why he chose MC as his tester. He didn’t even really know about any of their badassery, only that they grew up in a foreign country, and could speak multiple languages, which he found interesting, sure, but unecessary.

* He was thrilled at their kind nature, but also a little aprehensive. He knows no usual person would just up and walk into a van with a driver that blindfolded them to take them to an unkown location. What secrets could MC be hiding? He wanted nothing more than to find out.

* Well, he finds out soon enough. Or rather, Saeran does-when his agressiveness kicks in, when he tries to tackle MC to the ground and hold them in place, show them he’s superior...well, he doesn’t get the chance to.

* MC frowns at him as he tries to push them to the wall, taking his hand and holding it in a bruising-tight hold, swiftly moving behind him and bringing his hand to his back, the cracking sound of his shoulder alerting him he’s most certaintly going to feel that for the next few days.

* “You don’t get to touch me as you please” MC whispers in his ear before letting him go, seeing the way he stumbles a few steps ahead before regaining his balance.

* MC is still kind and tries to help him become the kind person they met in the begining of their arrival here, but won’t take Saeran’s shit under any circumstances. Instead they fight back tooth and nail, showing him all they got when he tries to push them around.

* This also makes escaping the cult with Saeran that much easier-they fight through hoards of Believers like they were paper-light, MC even grabbing a pistol off of one of them and firing scarily precise warning shots at just the right places to scare them all off.

* Welp, mark down Saeran as scared *and* horny lmao

VANDERWOOD:

* He met MC through their escape attempt with V and Seven, and hoo boy-HOO BOY.

* He sees their agility, their swift movements and the way they handle a knife like it was but an extension of their hand, and he’s head over heels in an instant.

* He keeps trying to scout them into the agency, promising them riches, but MC laughs at his offer with a roll of their eyes, refusing every time.

* Once, when he asks MC to join, they lean close to him, bringing a finger under his chin as they tilt his face to meet theirs. “Why don’t you join me instead?” they purr, and at that moment, Vanderwood is putty under their hands.

* He’d follow this badass person to the ends of the world, agency be damned.

* He does ask them to team up with him for some missions, secretly from the agency, and is pleased with the results, noting how quickly and efficiently the two work as a team.

* They’re literally the most badass couple in existence hoooly shit lol

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons/prompts for character reactions!-

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 3)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU. 

      Here is part 3 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it! 

    Vol. 1    Vol. 2 

Word Count: 2,913  The next morning I woke up just as the sunrise started peeking through the window in our room. I sighed rolling out of bed knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not that I really slept much after last night anyway. The adrenaline and anticipation of what might happen next took over my body despite knowing how tired I really was. Marianne most likely wouldn’t wake up for at least another three hours, so I decided to head down to the beach.

I changed into my bathing suit before pulling on some flowy pants and a shawl just in case it was a bit chilly. I quickly brushed through my hair before grabbing my book and my sunglasses to head out. I left a note for Marianne just in case and closed the door as quietly as I could.

When I made it down to the beach, I noticed how empty and quiet it was. It was soothing and peaceful being able to hear the waves crashing along the shore without the noise of chatter from the either guests on the beach. The sun shined bright as I walked along the shore with my feet in the water.

There were only a handful of people at the beach, a few of them being workers setting up chairs and umbrellas for the guests, and a couple who were walking or running. I held my book against my chest, afraid I might drop it into the water and it would be ruined. I paused briefly to capture the remainder of the rising sun above the water.

After a few minutes, I took a seat down on the sand and opened my book. I hadn’t really read much while I’ve been here, putting some much time in to work on my song for the audition. The audition I wasn’t sure I would even get and if I did I had no idea how I would tell my parents. My father probably wouldn’t approve of it mostly because he would see it as a distraction for what was to come in the fall with me heading off to University.

Or because he would view me as being more like Marianne and not myself. However, both of my parents know how much music means to me, as least in the sense of it being a hobby. But if I did get offered to be in Harry’s band, maybe that would show them that it’s more than just a hobby for me.

The wind started picking up a bit, blowing my hair in my face and the pages of my book around. I was focusing so hard on trying to read through the blowing pages that I didn’t realize someone approaching me until I saw their shadow. I glanced up and quickly saw Harry standing there.

He was shirtless, showing off even more tattoos and yellow running shorts. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, black, sunglasses.

“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly, putting my bookmark in my book.

Instead of answering or telling me why he was here, he sits down next to me. There’s still quite a bit of space between the two of us, but I can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Sorry for uh.. approaching you like this,” he said. “I saw you while I was running,” he coughed.

I nodded looking at him completely confused on where he was going with this. I wanted to ask him straight out about last night and why he was currently in my presence, but I couldn’t bring the words to leave my lips.

“Um, yeah, so I thought I’d get this out of the way and let you know, we decided you’re in,” he said.

Wait… what?

“In?” I asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

He sighed, “The band, look, you’re real good, and seem like a cool chick, I guess, but I just don’t know if our music is right for you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “I’m not following you… I’m in, but you don’t think I’m right for your music? What does that even mean?”

“Look, you seem real nice and shit, but the music scene isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. The tag line Sex, drugs, and Rock N’ Roll exists for a reason,” he said.

“Are you trying to say I’m too… too innocent?” I asked with annoyance dripping from my voice.

“I mean… yeah,” he said scratching his head.

“Well last time I fucking checked, you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I snapped. “And even if you were right, who the fuck cares… You said it yourself that I’m good and what your band needs. I know it. Your band knows it. Jasper knows it. And you fucking know it. I don’t get what it is that you don’t like about me, but if this is your way to try and get me to not join your band, then you’ve got another thing coming, Styles. I’m gonna show you just how wrong you are.”

I didn’t even bother to give him a chance to respond before getting up from my spot on the sand and walking away leaving him behind.

**

Later that day, I was sitting by the pool trying to forget about my encounter with Harry a few hours earlier. I couldn’t believe he spoke to me in such a way. Actually, I can because he’s always been an ass whenever I saw him before, so I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. I guess the biggest issue was because he said even though I was good, I wasn’t a “good fit” for the music.

What the fuck did he even mean by that? I stared at the blank page of my journal and started writing down my thoughts. I had written about half a page when I noticed someone blocking the sun for the second time that day.

“Can I help you?” I sighed looking up at Jasper, who was standing there holding a bright, pink, fruity drink on a tray.

“Yep, he was right,” he said sitting the drink down on the table next to my chair.

“One who was right and about what, two I didn’t order anything,” I told him, looking at him for a drink.

“I saw Harry this morning and he told me about your uh conversation this morning about how he fucked up,” he said. “So, I offered to bring you a drink as a bit of a peace offering.”

“Do you really think a fruity little drink with a paper umbrella is gonna make a difference?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, but it is a conversation starter,” he said sitting down on the chair opposite of mine.

I sighed, taking the glass in my hand, sipping it, “Let me guess, you’re here to do damage control?”

“In a way,” he winced. “Look, Harry can be a major dick, I’m not denying that.”

“So, then it’s not just me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope, he has his moments with everyone,” he said.

“Riight,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get to why you’re really here.”

He sighed, “After hearing about what happened this morning, we’re afraid you’re not going to take the offer.”

“Oh, you mean the offer that I’m good enough for, but not the right “fit” for,” I asked. “And is Harry included in this “we”?

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s complicated with Harry. He knows you’re what the band needs to set them apart from what’s going on in the local music scene, but his pride is fucking with him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Think about it… how would you feel if you’ve spent years trying to make a name for yourself and not getting anywhere and then someone finally gives you a tip saying it’s cause you're missing something. Which is basically saying you’re not good enough,” he said.

“Oh, um, yeah, I can see why he’s a bit of ass,” I sighed. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“So, what do you say,” he said. “Will you at least give it a shot? A few practices, a gig?”

I sighed, looking down at the drink in my hand, “But what if he’s right? What if I don’t fit…”

Why was I second guessing myself? And why was I so open with talking to Jasper, when he was still technically a complete stranger.

“Hey, he’s not right and even he knows that,” Jasper said. “Just give it a shot and if you don’t feel like you’re a fit, then fine. But let it be your decision.”

I sighed with a nod, “Okay.”

“Groovy,” he smiled. “Here’s the deets on where to meet us. See you tonight.”

I take the slip of paper from his hand, “Thank you.”

He gives a small smile before getting up from the chair and heading back to work. I sighed, pushing hair out of my face and opened up the note.

The Soundbooth. 10pm.

**

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I showed up at The Soundbooth. I brought my guitar just in case it was needed and I got help from Marianne with my outfit. I wasn’t going to change myself to fit in with the band, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change up my clothing style a bit. When I arrived, the building was smaller than I had imagined, but given the name I don’t know what I thought it was going to be a bigger venue.

As I waited in line, I quickly thought it may not have been the best idea for me to come alone, but my only option was to bring Marianne and while we were getting closer, I still wasn’t ready to bring her into my world. Not that this was really my world yet. Once I was finally inside, the place was even smaller than it appeared. People were packed in like sardines. Tables and chairs were practically on top of each other. My grip tightened on my guitar case as I searched around for a sign of either Jasper or Harry. I secretly hoped I could find Jasper first because I wasn’t sure how I would react if Harry saw me and seemed annoyed at my presence.

Surely, he must know I was coming after my conversation with Jasper, but even if he did know I’m sure there was a part of him that wished I hadn’t come. Unfortunately, Harry was the first one I saw, he was standing at a table close to the stage. I sighed debating on walking over there or just finding a spot in the back, but I knew the latter isn't really an option. If I was serious about not only being part of the band, but also proving him wrong, I had to do everything I could.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way over towards Harry and where he was standing. I wasn’t sure what I would say when I got there, but it was too late to turn back now.

“You came,” Harry said, sipping his drink once he noticed.

“Doubt I would?” I asked, sitting my guitar down.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve ever lied to a female,” I mumbled.

Harry sighed running his hands through his hair, “I uh.. Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot or whatever…”

“Bit of an understatement, but yeah,” I interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to apologize, okay? I’m sorry for what I said this morning, but this… this is my life and if you’re going to be in my band, then I need to know you’re serious about it and this isn’t just some extra curricular type shit for you.”

I sighed, feeling a little guilty about my own behavior towards him, especially after my talk with Jasper earlier that day.

“No, I get it,” I told him. “Music means a lot to me, too. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for myself or anyone. Including you, I wouldn’t have gone to that audition if I wasn’t serious about it. I never would have sat through all those horrendous auditions and then made you listen to me, if this wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

“Good to know,” he said. “So, for tonight, I thought it would be good for you to see what one of our gig’s looks like and what our music sounds like. That way if you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

I nodded,”Cool.”

“You can sit here, but I’ll be going backstage to warm up. We can talk more after the show,” he said.

“Okay,” I nodded, pushing myself up onto the barstool.

Surprisingly, he gave a small smile before walking away. Since I would be there for a bit, I decided to order myself something to drink and something to snack on. About five minutes later, Harry and the band come on stage. I don’t know why I felt nervous, but my palms were starting to sweat and my stomach felt like it was in my throat.

The first song they performed was very upbeat and once again it didn’t take long to notice that Harry was made for being on the stage. Even though the stage was barely a few feet long, he made sure to take up every inch of it. I definitely wasn’t that kind of performer, but if Harry was the front man, I wouldn’t need to be. With each song they played, I started picturing myself up on that stage and trying to figure out where I would be needed.

I was so focused on my own thoughts, I had completely blanked out on the show, until I heard Harry talking to the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He smiled. “I hope you’re enjoying our songs and having a groovy time. We don’t get to do this, if you don’t come to our shows, so thank you.”

The crowd cheered and hollered with their drinks in the air. I smiled a bit as I looked around.

“Now, we’re gonna do something a bit different tonight for the last song,” he said. “I want to bring a special guest up on stage.”

My head quickly snapped in the direction of the stage, I’m pretty sure I gave myself a bit of whiplash.

“We uh… have a friend in the crowd tonight and I’d like for her to come up here and perform for you all,” he said. “Y/N?”

My mouth drops as my eyes widen at the realization of why I’m really here. He had planned this all along. That sneaky bastard. I can’t believe he would set me up like this and without warning. If I could throw something at him, I would. But this is exactly what he wants. He wants me to freeze up, to run away, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I down the remainder of my drink, jump down from my stool and grab my guitar. I walk up to the stage, feeling my body shake from both nerves and adrenaline. When I made it to the stage, popped open my case to retrieve my guitar, I could tell Harry was a little shocked.

I put my guitar over my shoulder and looked over at him, while Jasper brought out a second microphone.

“So, Harry, since this was your idea, do you have a song in mind?” I asked.

“Ladies, choice,” he smirked. “It’s only fair.”

“I assume you know Landslide?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked back at his band, who all nodded.

“Then let’s go with that, shall we?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” he said.

I looked out at the crowd as everyone’s eyes were staring at the stage. The bright lights of the stage were blinding me, but I could still feel everyone’s gaze on me. I took a deep breath before I started playing the opening chords on my guitar.

The audience got quiet, only a few murmurs, “I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down, “I sang softly, nodding my head at Harry to take the next verse.

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Hmmmm,” Harry sang next.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing. Cause I’ve built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I’m getting older too,” we both sang together.

We continued on with the rest of the song, staring at each other as we did. I’m not sure what it was, but singing with him felt so natural, so easy.

I couldn’t help but feel something burning inside of me as we sang the final line together, “Oh, the landslide will bring it down.”

I strummed the end note on my guitar as the audience cheered the loudest they had the entire night. But it didn’t matter how loud they were because all I could hear was the beating of my heart as Harry and I remained where we were, our eyes never losing contact.

**

Welp, here it is! Finally. Let me know what you think and if you hav anything you want me to include for the next update! :) 

[harleyquinnamiright]

Crossroad High - Chapter One

also on Wattpad and AO3 Ships: (Eventual) Analogical, Royality, and Dukeceit/Demus Triggers: None that I can think of, please tell me if you’d like me to tag anything!

a/n: I don't know a lot about cheerleading and most of what I'm taking for Patton's cheerleading stuff is my fencing experience. Since it's a winter sport I didn't think it'd be fitting of Patton so. sorry for messing anything up there.

Remus Sanders is not a happy camper. After spending the entire summer at his Aunt and Uncle's house where all he could do was chores and school work, he gets one day to be at home. One day off before school starts again with the exact same day to day schedule as his so-called vacation. It would be bad enough having to do chores, having to do them while your guardians sit around and just tell you to be a different person is horrendous.

“HONEY! I’M HOME!” He chirped loudly the second he slammed opened the door, successfully scaring someone if the sound of something crashing had anything to say about it. He smirked to himself as he grabbed the door, seeing no dent in the wall, and kicking it back into place. His camo duffel bag that was slung across his shoulder was the only thing that he went to his Uncle’s house that he came back with, so he felt very smug waltzing into his kitchen. Even his wardrobe he wasn’t able to keep completely, though he was still wearing an outfit he had been able to hide by burying it. It was covered in dirt, but that never mattered to him. It was a black Billie Eilish shirt of her with her green hair, a pair of dark purple fishnets, and black ripped baggy jeans.

“You’re home.” Remus’ mother said with a sarcastic smile as she watched Remus walk into the kitchen. She was leant over the sink, a broken plate clearly having been just broken below her. Remus mentally high-fived himself. “You’re still doing makeup.” She said after a moment of silence, not trying to hide her disgust. Remus’ smirk turned into a smile as he remembered the loud purple eyeshadow and cat-eye he put on this morning.

“I am here. And yes, makeup is still on my face.” Remus smiled brightly, leaving the two standing in silence. “Welp. Bye!” He screamed the last word just to see if he could shock her again. It didn’t work, but it was worth a try. Walking to and up the stairs, it wasn’t surprising nothing changed. Whenever he left something seemed to change so it was a bit refreshing to see that the decor had left the same. No one else seemed to be in the house, which was a bit strange, but he didn’t note anything as he was glad to be home.

He almost screamed the second he opened his bedroom door. He didn’t actually scream, but he goddamn he wanted to. Everything that made his room his was gone. There wasn’t even a dresser anymore. His clothes he left were folded neatly on a silver shelving unit that looked like it belonged in a cafeteria, and there was no longer a mirror or desk. Half of the clothes there weren’t even his, or weren’t when he left, and he could tell that from the doorway. There wasn’t a trace of makeup and the walls had gone from his favorite neon green to a hospital white.

Not screaming, not thinking, he threw his bag at the bed that now had a sporty blue bedding instead of the green and purple octopus quilt he had specially commissioned, and climbed out his window. The roof below his room wasn't very strong but he walked on it enough to know where to step to get to the lattice and climb down relatively safely. He still wasn’t really thinking, but he got to his family's garage pretty easily.

Before he knew what he was doing he was holding a baseball bat above his mother’s favorite car. The only thing that made him stop and start to think was the garage opening to show his Dad's car. Knowing he wasn’t visible yet, he threw the bat half-hazerdly towards the corner and left the room garage towards the door facing his backyard, not really rushing, but still very much fuming.

—-

Seeing someone climb down the side of what seems to be their own house is not an everyday occurrence. Though, being in Roseville is not an everyday occurence for Janus Glass, so it’s not like he can actually speak about it. He couldn’t stop staring as he watched the interesting boy across the street climbing, but it was clear the other didn’t notice him. From what Janus could make out the other boy had white hair or white in his hair and was wearing clothes very different then from what Janus knew.

“Jay!” Janus heard, turning to see his Dad waving excitedly from the new house. It was a two bedroom house that was way bigger than it should have been, but the fact they could now afford it was amazing, and something neither of them had considered before.

J walked up to his front door and looked around, his dad running up the porch stairs excitedly. Neither of them had much time considering the fact that J had to get to the school soon for a tour, but it was nice to look around a house you never thought you’d actually get.

“What time was your school thingy again?” His dad shouted, now far inside the house.

“2:23,” J lied, wanting to be at the school early and liking the way the time sounded better. He looked around the living room which was connected to the front door briefly for a clock, coming up empty, but already spotting where one could go.

“So 2:30 or 3:00?” His dad responded, knowing his son's language.

“Former.” J responded, trying to visualize the rest of the room and decorations, a lot of which he and his father had already agreed on, but imaging again with different decor was nice.

“We, my boy, are going to be late.” His father said running down the stairs, walking quickly back into the car.

“What?” J asked deadpan as he followed him.

The two got into the car in silence, Janus half worrying about being late, half trying to imagine what the school would look like. Both thoughts got cut off by his Dad's car stopping shortly in front of a boy with sunglasses and a brown leather jacket. The boy looked up from his phone, gave the both of them a half dirty look before backing out of the way of the car. The two drove away with nothing but a look at each other. The rest of the car ride didn’t leave a lot of room for thought, being filled with Queen. Janus and his dad only got through two songs before arriving at the bland looking building that tomorrow would officially be Janus’s new school. The back of the building was boring at least, a solid wall of grey brick. The front had more sectioning off and was painted different quotes and pictures representing pride in the school and town, though not distracting from the statue in the middle of the front courtyard.

“Well look at that! This place looks fun! Am I dropping you off or should I know where your classes are? What are we doing?” Janu’s dad asked excitedly, clapping loudly once.

Janus totally didn’t flinch. He didn’t. Chad still looked apologetic. “You’re just dropping me off, Dad.” Janus replied, nodding to himself. The word dad made Chad light up as he unlocked the car. Despite the fact that Janus had gotten comfortable calling Chad Dad long ago, the fact he did made the other very happy.

“Text me when the tour is over! I’ll see what we can do about milkshakes afterwards, yeah?” Chad continued to smile brightly, not matching Janus’ low energy at all.

“Sure. Bye.” Janus was once again deadpan though trying not to be rude as he turned away from his father and towards the front entrance of Crossroad High. This was going to be a fun year.

—-

Roman should not have shown up 15 minutes early. It wasn’t a good idea when he left the house for the 10 minute drive, and it wasn’t a good idea when he got to the building. The front door was open by the time he got there, but there were no people around for what seemed like miles. The back parking lot full of cars, but it always was, and there never seemed to be any people.

The fifteen minutes wasn’t hard to fill when there was finally silence to think. In a house filled with the fights about Remus coming soon or Logan just needing people to know they were wrong, it was very hard to think. Sitting on the floor was also very nice. The silence was nice until there was a random voice behind him.

“Hey.” The voice was quiet, but it was still there.

“Hi.” Roman responded, turning around, instantly glad he spoke before looking as he looked at the others face. He seemed to have heterochromia of the eyes, one being almost yellow, the other a tawny brown. Also, half his face was covered in burns that looked so organized it looked like a waffle iron was pressed to his face.

“So. I, um, I assumed you were, a, my tour guide? If not, sorry for bothering you?” The other said cautiously, his voice rasping slightly, dragging out his s’s, going from somewhat deadpan to panicked in his time talking.

“Oh, yeah, no, yeah! I’m your tour guide! I’m Roman! Hello!” Roman said with a princely flourish as he stood up from his place on the floor, wiping his hips slightly.

“Greeeaaaaaat.” Janus nodded slowly as he drew out the word. “I’m Janus, with a u-s. Did you want the schedule I had or are we going around the whole school? or..?”

“We could do either! I wasn’t given a lot of strict instruction so I think we can do whatever. I was told you and I had the exact same classes, hence why I’m the one showing you around, so. Yeah.” Roman explained, smiling awkwardly. “That’s the front door.” He said after a second of Janus just staring at him.

“Math.” Janus seemed to force the word from his throat, for some reason not being able to speak. His face also had a slight tinge to his face that could have been blushing, from his burn scars, or because of the school lighting.

“Math. Yes. We have Algebra first. That starts upstairs. We go from here, down all the way to the middle school blocks, then use the left staircase, go all the way up, and the second door is the Algebra room. It sounds a little more complicated than it is.” Roman explained, pointing at the path he was talking about as he started walking.

“Middle school blocks?” Janus said a little easier as it was clear Roman would be able to hold most of the conversation for the day.

“Yes, the middle school isn’t really connected but it used to be. The 9th graders have to sometimes come here for elective classes because sometimes. I took a theater class that could only be held in this auditorium so me and my class walked here everyday from the upper lot.” Roman explained, smiling accomplished while talking about theater, obviously passionate about the subject.

“Oh, so you’re also a freshman?” Janus asked, surprised, his face turning confused again in the middle of his sentence.

“Yes, I have an older brother and again, theater class, so I am quite acquainted with the building.” Roman once again explained, turning to open the door but searching Janus’ face for reactions. There wasn’t much of any.

Janus nodded when he realized Roman was expecting someone and continued nodding throughout the rest of the tour. The school was broken up into wings so it was pretty easy to navigate. By 3:30 there was only one place left for Roman to show Janus.

—-

Cheerleading practice was rewarding but it was hard. A lot of people seemed to think it was easy, Patton at first included, but wow was it hard work. Not even mentioning the exercise before and after actually practicing things specifically for cheerleaders.

“Pat! We were all going to the movies later today, wondering if you’d like to come?” Regina, the head cheerleader, asked him cheerily.

“I’d love to! Should we meet in your locker room or mine?” Patton asked, already knowing the invitation was going to be revoked.

“Oh. Um. We kind of have to leave now.” Regina smiled apologetically, though she started tensing a tad.

“Oh, alright, then I guess I’ll see you next time!” Patton waves as he was the first one walking away, not pointing out several of the girls preferred to change too, and that many probably invited were already walking towards the school. Or that it was the fourth time they had invited him only to not revoke that when he reminded them he used a different dressing room.

It’s not like he was the only male cheerleader, he was just the only one who didn’t try out and get in in kindergarten. He joined in first grade, never thinking he was out of the loop. He didn’t even realize he was until 6th grade, when he and the three other male cheerleaders were chosen for the main twelve cheerers who were picked for competitions.

Suffice to say, thinking you’re alone in the locker room then hearing voices is pretty scary.

“And this is our last stop of the day! These are the locker roooo--- HI PATTON.” Roman, a boy Patton knew from theater class announced loudly upon seeing Patton. Patton laughed slightly, unsure of the loud reaction seeing as he was still fully in uniform and wasn’t doing anything he thought would cause such a thing.

The boy next to him waved slightly after a sec, looking at Roman strangely.

“Heyyy, Rodrick?” Patton asked unsurely, smiling brightly.

“Ro, uh, Roman.” Roman answered, though his tone was very questioning.

“Alright, hi Roman! And hi, you! I’m not sure we’ve ever met before! I’m Patton!” Patton waved more enthusiastically.

“Janus. With an u-n. It’s nice to meet you, Patton.” Janus nodded, smirking slightly on the side of his face that wasn’t burned. Patton was unsure if he wanted to ask but he was sure he wanted to know whatever or whoever was behind that sooner or later.

“Well. This seems a little awkward.” Patton said, closing his locker, deciding not to change out of uniform today. “I know why I’m here. Can I ask why you two are here?”

“I’m starting this school tomorrow and I needed a tour around.” Janus explained easily, drawing out the s, though his voice seemed like an emotion Patton couldn’t place.

“Oh. That’s fun. When walking in I think I heard you,” He paused and pointed softly at Roman, “say that this was the last stop? If that’s true, would you guys want to hang out? I’m a bit bored.” He finished, smiling and scrunching his nose, hoping it didn’t sound like he wanted to take over their day.

“That’d be nice. I’m also new to town so finding where to hang out would be, well, nice. Heh.” Janus answered after it was clear Roman was going to do no such thing. He stood there smiling like a polite cat, nodding continuously.

“Awesome! Let’s go!” Patton turned around, giving Roman a polite smile as to ask if he was coming. Roman just kept nodding. “Alright.” Patton shrugged, and started walking out the field to the back parking lot.

—-

Logan knew, for sure, that school didn’t start until tomorrow. He did. Then again, his brain never officially decided school was over, therefore he was in the clear of deciding he was overworking himself. It wasn’t like he was starting freshman year over again, he was going to school as a sophomore. He didn’t know why, but it seemed like this year was going to be important. Or dangerous. It’s school, who knows.

He was startled out of his thoughts about scheduling when his phone started playing Fergalicous. “Babes, you better not be hunched over your desk.” Logan’s friend, Remy, said after Logan answered the phone.

“I’m not hunching.” Logan answered honestly, pressing up his glasses.

“Working counts as hunching hun.” Remy paused to slurp his coffee, “Also I’m at your front door.” Remy said, sipping again.

“Of course you are.” Logan rolled his eyes fondly as he walked downstairs. He had earlier heard a crash of some kind of already figured his younger brother had been home and had probably left by now. Logan didn’t support what his parents had done to Remus’ room but since he didn’t stop anything he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Remus yet.

“Why was your brother climbing down the side of your house?” Remy asked as soon as Logan opened the door, confirming his suspicions of Remus being gone. His mother was now also nowhere to be found but she typically didn’t mind Remy being over.

“Probably because our parents completely cleared out his room after sending them to our Uncles.” Logan answered, walking upstairs, trusting Remy to shut the door and follow him up the stairs.

“That a quote?” Remy asked scandalously, obviously wanting more information.

“Not directly. Here’s what was said,” Logan started as soon as he closed his bedroom door. Talking with Remy was always fun, he was trustworthy, and truly the only one who appreciated gossip as much as Logan.

The fact that Remy was only not in Roseville for a week did not stop him from having a world of new information from where he was and Roseville. Logan didn’t have as much info as the other but he had plenty and he had plenty of new information on people to walk into sophomore year. —-

When Virgil got home, he genuinely did not know what day it was or when it was. He knew it was dark. It’s not like he was gone for long but when the sky gets dark around 6:00 you can lose track of how long you’re outside. The only reason he left in the first place was because his mother's boyfriend Derrick was coming over and Derrick didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t ask him to leave but while he was there it was clear he didn’t want Virgil there. In his own home. Virgil didn’t mean to fall asleep in a public park and get driven home by a cop with no clock in the car whatsoever.

“Honey! Oh my gosh I was so worried!” His mother said, hugging him tightly the second she opened the door. He tensed and squirmed but she didn’t care. Despite the fact they were still semi outside, Virgil knew Derrick wasn’t home based on his mother's closeness.

When she finally let him go, before he was able to say anything, she glanced at something and suddenly got a hard look in her eye. “Sweety, you have school in two hours. None of your chores are done. I’ll let you know when you have time to change.” She was swaying slightly and her eyes showed she clearly wasn’t all there, but when was she ever.

Virgil just nodded, not like his mother was in front of him anymore. She was probably going back to sleep herself, but Vee couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know how long he slept and still doesn’t know an exact time, but he just plugged his phone in before getting to work on chores. He had no idea why he needed to change but then again his mother did care about what others thought about him. In public at least.

His mother never called him to get changed but luckily he set an alarm his phone was loud enough to alert him of. He didn’t really have time to fully change what he was wearing so he just grabbed the first sweater he saw and the backpack with all his summer work in it. He was dressed fine, an intentionally ripped dark purple shirt and distressed black jeans, the sweater being a favorite and one he worked to fix when broken many times. He heard the bus coming before he saw it and he didn’t get a second to breathe until he was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver. He realized he left his headphones home way too late, but tried to comfort himself by knowing there wouldn’t be time throughout the day to listen to them. It was the first day of freshman year, after all.

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @fandomfan315 @dragon-hair @a-long-suffering-artist @aleiimm @sadgayisme @falsehoodx @jessibbb @notveryglittery @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @izzyfandoms

[kit-kat-astrophe]

Sugawara Koshi x Reader: Beach Day!!!!

Suga invites you along to a day at the beach with the boys’ volleyball team as a thank-you for helping him study for a test. 1,465 words. This one’s for you, Angel!

“Hey, y/n, wait up!” You turn around to see Sugawara from class 3-2 running down the hallway, waving his hand to get your attention. He stumbled before finally coming to a stop in front of you, crouched over with exhaustion and trying to catch his breath. He breathily addressed you. “Are you free tomorrow?” The next day was a Saturday, and you didn’t have any plans, so you reply, “Yes, why?” He straightened up. “The team and I are heading to the beach tomorrow, do you wanna come with us?”

You were slightly taken aback by his request; though you did sit near each other in a few classes, it’s not as though you were especially close. “I’d love to go! But, why ask me? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t wanna come, but I’m sure there’s other people you’re closer to in class...” The question caught Suga off guard. “I uh... wanted to thank you for helping me study the other day. I kept you in the library for hours the other day, I figured that it was the least I could do,” he replied; adding, “yeah, let’s go with that...” under his breath. How thoughtful, you noted, that’s really sweet of him. He interrupted your train of thought, saying, “Okay then, I’ll text you the location. See you at three!” He flashed you a smile before setting off in the direction he came from.

✨Saturday, 14:30✨

It was 2 pm, and you were in a state of panic. There was only an hour left until you had to be on the beach to meet Suga; and you hadn’t even picked out a swimsuit. You frantically dug through the old box labelled ‘summer clothes’ under your bed, briefly looking at bikinis and leotards only to decide them unfit for the occasion. Then, you saw it - the perfect swimsuit. You pulled the top half out from under the pile of clothes and scanned what was left inside to find the bottom. You see it hanging over the side of the box and grab it, holding the two pieces in your hands proudly. This was it. The cool blue complimented your skin tone perfectly, and the white polka dots and the bunched up fabric on both pieces only added to the overall cuteness. After changing into the bikini, you slipped into your favourite crop top and tied the strings of the baggy shorts around your waist. You grabbed the beach bag you prepared the day before, filled with sandcastle-building equipment, sunscreen, your favourite book, a pair of stylish sunglasses and a volleyball you found in the attic. While you didn’t doubt that one of the boys would bring one, Suga warned in his text that someone would most likely spike it into the ocean, never to be seen again. You heard your mum call for you and complain that you were going to be late downstairs and hastily replied with, “I’m coming!” shutting your bedroom door behind you.

Stepping out of your car, you thanked your mum for driving you out here and looked around for your classmates. You see a boy with orange hair running away from a group of guys chasing after him wielding sunscreen, and recognise Suga as the one leading the pack. You giggle to yourself, surprised to see this chaotic side of the usually calm Suga you’re used to. You see Daichi from your class under a beach parasol, watching the chase with a deadpan expression. You made your way over to where he was sitting and set down your stuff. He turned to you and said, “Hey. Y/n, right?” You nodded your head in response. Daichi continued, “Let me get the others.” and stood up. He then proceeded to yell (louder than what you thought was possible) about how the others need to get their butts over here and say hi to you. You braced yourself as six high school boys came sprinting towards you, while the other five where telling them to slow down. The short ginger that was being chased before reached you first, introducing himself as Hinata. Everyone else arrived shortly afterwards then went off to play some beach volleyball  - though Suga stayed behind to talk with you some more.

“Y/n, I’m glad you made it! You didn’t call or anything, I thought something happened to you! I was getting kind of worried...” he said, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “Thanks for your concern, but I was just running a little late; I couldn’t decide what to wear, haha.” you replied, touched by his distress at your absence. “A- anyway, do you wanna play with us? Though I can’t guarantee that Tanaka or Hinata won’t spike a ball into your face...” Suga said apologetically. You laughed saying, “For your information, I am the beach volleyball champion in my family!” Suga laughed with you, and teased, “Oh, really now? I don’t believe it...” You crossed your arms and pouted, feigning annoyance, and replied, “Well, I am; so you better not underestimate me, Suga-chan!” He blushed even more at the name you gave him, though you were oblivious as you spread some sunscreen across your arms.

“Hey Suga, can you put sunscreen on my back for me? I can’t reach back there...” you said, pulling off your crop top to reveal the bikini underneath. After not receiving a reply, you turned around and saw Suga - his face completely red, trying to stop himself from looking at you. Still completely oblivious, you put a dollop of sunscreen on your finger and ask, “Your face is all red, did you put on sunscreen? I wouldn’t want you to get burned!” with a kind smile. “O-oh, I must’ve forgotten to do my face. T-thanks.” he responded, still a little flustered. “I’ll do your back, sure. Pass the bottle.” You hand the bottle to him and he starts spreading the sticky substance on your skin.

“Wow, this feels really nice!” you exclaimed, a second later realising what you said. “Um, I meant, you’re really gentle - wait, no, I...” you decided to stop talking there to prevent any further embarrassment. After a while, Suga told you he was finished and set off to join the others. “You coming?” he asked. “I’ll be there in a second, just packing my clothes up.” With that, he set off towards the others. You untied the strings on your shorts and slipped out of them, stuffing them into your bag with your shirt. You ran toward the ongoing game, diving to save the ball from hitting the sand just in time. You heard a ‘nice receive!’ from a few people on your team and continued the game.

After playing for a while, you couldn’t help but feel like there were people watching you; but you shrugged it off, rationalising that the other team would be observing you to play a better counter. However, it even felt like some of the boys were performing a little worse since you started playing - you even caught a few of them staring in your direction, but brushed it off as something behind you. When the second set was finished, Suga pulled you aside to talk. Though you were confused, you still went with him. “What’s up?” you questioned, noting that his face was flushed. “W- well, I just wanted to say that...” he looked down in embarrassment. “...That, I think you should put your clothes back on!” he yelled. 

“I- WHAT?!” you exclaimed, becoming angrier by the second. Who was he to tell you what clothes you were to wear? “W- wait, that’s not what I meant! I just - all the other guys were staring at you and I guess I got a a little...” he trailed off into silence. “You what, huh?” you say still upset. He carried on, “I got a little jealous. I don’t like them ogling you like that.” He looked away, trying to hide his awkwardness. You felt your face go hot and realised that you were blushing. “O- oh. Um... I didn’t know it would bother you...” you replied sheepishly. “You can wear what you like, but make sure they don’t get any ideas, okay?” he said defiantly. You smiled warmly and said, “Okay. I’ll make sure you’re the only one who gets to think of me like that~!” You wink at him and stick your tongue out playfully as his face becomes more and more red. You run past him and shout, “Come on, we winning this set or not?”. “H- hey, wait up!” he yelled, running after you.

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {3}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Masterlist 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,159 6,537

Warnings: Mentions of underaged drinking

Author’s Note: Part Three!!! Uhh some angst? Soft Stiles? I really like this part and I’m very excited for the next one!! Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Friday night rolled around, and Finley found herself bobbing her head along to the beat of her ‘Old Skool’ playlist, which was comprised of all the 80’s music her dad made them listen to growing up, while she Dutch braided her hair in the bathroom mirror. A knock came from the door that led into her suitemates’ room and she paused her music, “it’s open!”  She called loud enough that they could hear her. Bailey, a midfielder for the lacrosse team, slipped into the bathroom, her makeup bag in her hand.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” She asked while she pulled out her foundation and a makeup sponge. “It’s going to be an absolute blast! Beach party is one of the most looked forward to parties of the year!” Finley finished her left braid, made sure it looked okay in the mirror, and tied it off with a rubber band.

She looked over to Bailey who had just applied way too much foundation to her face, her neck and face were going to be two different colors but that was not any of Finley’s business. “I’m totally fine. I told you I have a project to work on for my Intro to Law class,” she reminded her suitemate.

Bailey pulled out her mascara and applied a heavy coat to her eyelashes. “Oh, right I forgot you mentioned that,” she fanned her hands in front of her eyes to help the mascara dry faster. Finley continued to section her hair for her right braid and carefully watched her hands work in the mirror. “With that boy, right?” Bailey asked.

“Stiles,” Finley reminded Bailey of his name and continued to tightly braid her hair, “he’s on the men’s club team actually.” She had just remembered they had the lacrosse connection, and she also knew that meant they would soon be seeing each other outside of their class and project meetings thanks to the mixed morning workouts the two teams had agreed to participate in. 

“Oh right! We have a mixer with them two Saturdays from tomorrow.” Bailey told her. Finley hadn’t been much of the party type before she arrived at college. Mainly because she couldn’t get drunk, or even buzzed off of alcohol; a special strain of wolfsbane needed to be mixed in for her to feel anything other than sober at all. Being the designated driver had gotten old for both her and her brother very quickly. “Well, we have to call it a mixer,” Bailey pulled out white eye black and applied it to her nose, so it looked like sunscreen. “It’s a risky business party.”

Finley pulled her second rubber band off her wrist, “risky business?” She asked, slightly confused. “Like the movie?”

Bailey laughed after she finished coating her lips in ‘ruby red’ lipstick and smiled at herself in the mirror. “Yes! Like the movie!” She rolled her eyes and closed her make up bag. “It’s like you don’t know anything about college!” Finley rolled her own eyes in response before walking into the threshold of her room, grabbing the door handle with her hand. 

“Have fun tonight, let me know if you’re going to be hungover in the morning. I’ll go out and get you and Kenna coffee,” Finley told her suitemate before closing her door that led to the bathroom. She was immediately enveloped in the warmth and comfort of her room, the orange scent from her diffuser relaxing her when she breathed in. The warm glow of the lights she had hanging along the top of her wall had her even more relaxed, some of the tension seeping out of her body. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, basking in the silence for the first time in nearly three weeks. 

She had been working all summer before moving her brother in, traveling around the country, and to a few international locations with her dad. After an entire summer of traveling and trying to avoid getting killed, she wanted at least a few days to relax, but instead she had to move her brother and then herself into college. Taking a deep breath, Finley opened her eyes when she heard a knock on the bathroom door that led to her room.

“It’s open!” She groaned watching the handle twist before her other suitemate, Mckenna, walked in. She had on a pair of white, denim shorts, and a sunflower printed bikini top, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head. “Please wear a coat or at least bring one,” Finley pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mckenna rolled her eyes and leaned on the frame of the door while Bailey pulled a pair of ‘lifeguard’ shorts over her red, ‘lifeguard’ one piece swimsuit. “It’s me you’re concerned about?” Mckenna laughed and motioned to Bailey who now had a hard lemonade can in her hand. “That’s her third, and it’s only seven.” 

“I don’t want to be up early tomorrow because she’s throwing up,” Finley groaned and Mckenna stepped into her room closing the bathroom door behind her. Bailey and Mckenna thought that Finley was only a light sleeper, they didn’t know that when one of them was throwing up in the bathroom, Finley could both hear and smell everything.

“You say that like she won’t go home with a soccer or men’s player,” Mckenna laughed while she sat on top of one of the two desks in Finley’s room. “So, I wouldn’t be too worried about her waking up you or the boy you’re having over. Speaking of,” she swung her legs a little bit. “When’s he coming over?”

Finely looked at her watch, “ten minutes. If even,” she shrugged. “And he’s not staying over he has a girlfriend,” she added after the fact. She knew Stiles would most likely hang around as long as she let him, but she didn’t plan on trying anything with him. She didn’t know him well enough to pursue anything yet anyways. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mckenna waved her off while sliding off the desk. “We’ll be gone by eight at the latest, we’re going over to one of the senior’s apartments before heading over to the soccer house.” Mckenna opened the bathroom door and they both noticed that Bailey was trying, and failing, to braid her hair. “Let’s go Bails,” Mckenna threw a wink over her shoulder at Finley before leading Bailey back into their room, both doors separating the three closing behind the pair. 

Finley let out a loud groan as she got up and locked the bathroom door from her side, making sure a drunk Bailey wouldn’t be able to barge in any time soon. She walked over to her dresser and untied her sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor while she dug around her in a drawer for a pair of shorts. 

She couldn’t figure out why she felt so on edge, she wanted to rip someone’s head off and cry at the same time, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the last big blow up with her grandmother months prior. Sure, the full moon was that night, but she had been able to more than control herself for the event since she was six years old. That couldn’t be why her emotions were so volatile. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, looking for when she was due for her next heat, and it wasn’t supposed to occur for another two months. 

Stepping out of her sweats she pulled the black Nike pros up her legs and flattened the band across her stomach. Tucking the extra fabric from her long sleeve shirt into them before pulling a pair of cabin socks on her feet. Her room often got warm at night, even with the air on as cold as she could make it she would get too hot to wear sweatpants for more than a couple hours at a time. Walking over to her body length mirror she turned to the side and looked over herself for a few moments. 

She had always been on both the taller and ‘curvier’ side, even when she had been younger. The body type ran in her family, even Cian was on the larger side of D1 quarterbacks. Since she had been running around the country, quite literally, most of the summer and began intense conditioning for lacrosse soon after, she had lost around fifteen pounds and started to gain more defined muscles. She wasn’t uncomfortable with how her body had been changing, but it had come as a shock when she weighed in at media day and noticed the drop in her weight. She did enjoy how her legs were becoming even more defined than they already were and her ass looked amazing.

She jumped when a knock sounded from her room door and walked over to open it. Stiles stood on the other side, his legs clad in a pair of maroon sweats that read ‘Beacon Hills Lacrosse’ and his top half covered in just a while tee shirt. “Hey!” She smiled opening the door wider so he could walk in. 

“Hey,” he winced, in what looked like pain, while he dropped his backpack on her floor, “I am so sore.” He groaned, stretching his neck out. Finley watched as he bent down slowly to pull his water bottle out of his bag, holding his back while he did.

“Oh, right men’s started a couple days ago,” she laughed watching as he sat down on the edge of her bed. “We were watching you guys run suicides earlier between shotting drills,” she felt a smirk pull across her face when she saw Stiles look at her with his eyes narrowed. “Looked awful if you want my opinion, but I went through that at the beginning of the season, so I don’t feel bad per say. I just feel sympathetic.”

Finley considered taking some of his pain away, but she wasn’t sure how he would react if she did, or if he already knew about that aspect of being a werewolf. Instead, she pulled a chair over to her closet to stand on while she looked around her top shelf for her heating pad. She usually used it before her heats when she would start feeling the symptoms of it onsetting, but she also discovered it worked magic on humans when their muscles were tense or tight.

“Here, hang on,” Finley plugged it into her extension cord and turned it on to the high setting. “Sit back on the wall with this on your back.” She told him after handing him the heating pad. She watched Stiles give her an ‘I don’t believe you’ look while he settled himself against the wall, the heating pad on his lower back. She stood across the room, her arms crossed over her chest while she watched some of the tension wash out of his body, his shoulders dropping and his face relaxing. 

Stiles opened his eyes to look at Finley, a smug smirk on her face. “It worked,” he smiled while he rested his head against the wall, still watching her. Finley walked across the room and sat down on her bed on the opposite send from stiles, her legs crossed while she unlocked her phone. 

“I’m right sometimes,” she laughed while she pulled up a takeout menu. “So how does grilled cheese sound for dinner?” She held up the menu on her phone while Stiles turned his head to the side to watch her. That was when he noticed she had on glasses, he had never seen her wear them before. The frames complementing the shape of her face and their tortoiseshell print making her blue eyes pop. 

“Grilled cheese?” He asked in slight amusement, “doesn’t sound much like take out, we could make that here if we wanted.” He spoke. Finley watched as his body relaxed even more and he sat up a little bit straighter, pulling his legs in so they crossed. 

“It’s a place called GCDC and it’s a grilled cheese restaurant,” she handed him her phone that had the menu pulled up on it. “If nothing catches your eye, we can try somewhere else, but I am the one from around here y’know?” Watching Finley skeptically out of the corner of his eye Stiles took the menu and began looking it over. 

A few minutes later Stiles handed her back her phone. “Okay so, maybe I was wrong,” he mumbled. “This place actually looks really good, and this heating pad is fucking magical,” he moved it further up his back. Finley noticed how much more his face had relaxed and smiled lightly, he looked cozy and warm. Mixed with the subtle scent of orange filling her room and the warm glow of her lights she found herself wanting to curl up next to him and take a nap. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Finley realized she would have to actually go see her dad in the morning and sit down and talk to him about her feelings, the last thing she wanted to do. However, she could not let her emotions get the best of her in this situation and understood that her dad tended to give good advice in the area of ‘werewolf dating and romance’, as much as she hated to admit it.

“Yeah, I know,” Finley mumbled not wanting to open her eyes and have to look at Stiles again, “and that was to both of your statements,” she added. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll call and order it,” Finley reached over to the desk that had been placed at the end of her bed and grabbed a post it and pencil.

Stiles reached out for her phone that still sat unlocked on her bed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he scanned the menu again. “Would you recommend a grilled cheese or mac and cheese?” Stiles looked at Finley over the phone, his brows knit together trying to make the tough decision between the two. 

“So how about this,” she bounced the pencil on her leg, “we each get a grilled cheese and then we can split a mac and cheese?” Finley suggested. “Because both are amazing and I’m actually pretty hungry tonight.” She shrugged, she had lost weight, she could eat a little more crap than she usually would. “So, four cheese mac and cheese,” she wrote it down. 

Stiles looked back and forth between a couple options before settling on one. “And-” he dragged out the word while he tried to make up his mind. “I’ll get the Young American I guess,” he shrugged while he handed Finley’s phone back to her. “Which do you usually get?” He asked while she wrote his order down.

“I usually get the French Onion,” she also wrote down her order. “Uhh, I have soda and iced tea and shit in the fridge unless you want something else to drink.” She tried to think of what else they could possibly order from the restaurant. “Anything else you could think of that you would want from there?” Finley asked. Stiles shook his head, his hair that still looked slightly damp from his shower, flopping on his forehead. It was a cute look, especially with how relaxed he seemed, but Finley knew she needed to reign it in before she accidently said something she regretted. She had never been known to have the best brain to mouth filter and did not need it getting her in trouble with Stiles.

Stiles tried to settle more into the feeling of the heating pad relaxing the tense and sore muscles in his back while Finley finished writing down their orders. She set her pencil back down on her desk and held the post it between her teeth while she crawled off her bed, jumping down to the floor before padding over to her other desk.    

Stiles knew it was wrong, and he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he found his eyes following her movements while she walked around her room. Her figure was illuminated by the warm glow of her lights and the two braids in her hair flowed down her back almost perfectly. He watched the muscles in her legs flex while she leaned up on her toes to put the post it of their orders up on the wall. The way her shorts fit left absolutely nothing to his imagination and Stiles found himself observing how they hugged her hips and ass perfectly. 

Stiles rolled his back against the wall and tried to focus on something else while he listened to Finley call in their orders. He tried to will his mind to think about something other than walking up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist while she spoke, tracing his lips down the side of her neck. He tried to remember what Lydia’s lips felt like on his, what her arms around him felt like, but he just couldn’t. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly through his lips; he was with Lydia, he loved Lydia.

On Monday after he had spoken to Lydia, for far too long in his opinion, Stiles found himself on the phone with Scott on the verge of an anxiety attack. He loved Lydia, he truly did, but some pieces just weren’t fitting together right anymore. Scott had managed to talk Stiles off a ledge and told him that if he waited two weeks until he and Lydia were traveling to D.C. to see one of Stiles’ first lacrosse games, he would help Stiles decide if breaking up with Lydia would be the best decision for him. He had hung up his phone after the conversation and found himself flopping back into his bed with an over exaggerated sigh that had his roommate asking if he felt okay. 

“Stiles?” He opened his eyes to see Finley standing in front of him, concern and confusion written on her face. “It’ll be here in like fifteen minutes, but are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

Stiles sat up a little bit and groaned when he felt his muscles tense up again, a sickening crack traveling down his back when he stretched it out. “I’m okay just, I need to get used to it again,” he sighed. “I’m sure you’d understand it.” He laughed and moved the heating pad down lower again.

Finley bit her lip while she looked at Stiles, of course she didn’t fully understand it, her muscles would heal almost immediately after she strained them at practice. She could clearly see how the soreness had affected Stiles though, and she wanted to help but didn’t want to risk exposing herself. “We could have rescheduled y’know?” She asked him. 

“I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a few minutes to sit down,” he waved her off before standing up and going to pick up his backpack. “I’ve been looking at the case stuff and I have a couple ideas on who the suspect is, but I think we need the rest of the case information he’s giving us Monday to finish it.” 

Finley stopped him from bending down with a hand on his shoulder and offered a soft smile. “It’s good I was thinking the same thing because you need physical rest and I need a mental break,” she spoke. “We can look at it again at lunch on Monday, okay?” She pushed Stiles’ bag next to hers with her foot. 

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles walked back over to her bed and pushed himself up on the mattress, settling the heating pad on his back again. Finley offered him a sympathetic smile before she grabbed her wallet and ID.

She slipped on her Crocs before grabbing the handle of the door. “I’m gonna go grab the food, you just don’t hurt yourself,” she laughed lightly. Stiles went to push off the mattress and she reached a hand out to stop him. “Didn’t I say to like, stay there?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, a playful smirk pulling at her lips.

“I need to-”

“It’s on me this time,” she waved him off when Stiles gave her a look that said he wanted to protest, and she opened her door and started to step outside before he could say anything else. “I said it’s on me,” she repeated.

Stiles leaned his head back against the wall and watched Finley leave, her door shutting quietly behind her. Being left alone in Finley’s room felt slightly wrong, and his curiosity had him eager to look around, but he wasn’t sure if it would be rude. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the warmth spreading throughout his body, but he got too curious to stay focused on the pain that spread throughout his body. Stiles opened his eyes and looked around the room, he noticed that the wall her window was on had been covered in pictures and slowly pushed himself off the bed with a groan.

Slowly he shuffled across her soft rug, not wanting to lift his legs too much and hurt himself even more and paused in front of the wall of photos. He quickly scanned over the wall and noticed that most of them seemed to feature Finley and her friends at various sports games or school dances, even sleepovers and vacations.

He realized he had quite a few similar photos hanging up in his room and smiled a little bit, he could be a normal teenager sometimes apparently. Between fighting the supernatural, trying to actually finish high school and making sure no on in his pack actually died, Stiles hadn’t had much time to be a ‘normal’ teenager the last few years. He had hoped he would change that at college and be able to let go a little bit, so far that had proved to be true, but he just hoped the trend would continue.

Stiles found himself looking past most of the pictures from lacrosse games or prom and his eyes settled on one that hung right next to the window on its molding. A little girl posed in front of a tiger cage in the pictures, a boy who looks quite similar next to her, they both had Mickey Mouse ears on, and their faces were painted to look like tigers. Behind the two kids stood a man who Stiles noticed in a number of other photos, Finley’s dad he assumed, and a woman who seemed to be almost a splitting image of Finley. 

“That was our last family vacation,” Finley held a paper bag in her hand and closed her bedroom door. Stiles jumped when he heard her voice and gasped, putting a hand over his heart and groaning in pain. “Sorry,” Finley laughed and sat the food down on her desk along with her wallet and ID, “couldn’t help it. I wanted to see if you would actually jump.”

She walked over to where Stiles stood and ran her fingers over the picture, smiling sadly while she did. “That was two weeks before she passed actually,” Finley mumbled, “at the Animal Kingdom,” she pointed to another photo. Her and her brother, along with their father, stood in the same location for the photo and still wore Mickey ears, but they looked significantly older. “And that one is from when we were sixteen, there’s others somewhere on here.” She motioned around the wall. “We go the same week every year.”

Finley turned and walked back to her desk where the food sat. “Sorry I was snooping around,” he spoke while walking over towards her. He hadn’t meant to look creepy while looking at her photos, he just wanted to get to know her better and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

“Oh, I don’t care,” she ripped the staples out of the paper bag with her nails and dumped them into the garbage bag. “I don’t really have anything to hide, and besides they’re hanging up so it’s just asking people to look at them. If I did have something to hide,” she slid the three containers out of the bag along with some plastic forks and napkins, “I wouldn’t leave it out in the open.” 

Finley bit her lip while sitting down on the floor and opening her mini fridge, of course she had things to hide, but nothing in her room. “Uhh,” she bent down to look in the fridge, “alcohol or non-alcohol for the drink?” Just because Finley couldn’t get drunk off normal alcohol didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it. Also knowing that his kids couldn’t feel the effects alcohol provided to others, Maxwell often had no problems with providing his kids drinks. 

“You have alcohol in here?” Stiles asked in slight disbelief. Finley turned around and looked up at him, slightly shocked that had been his reaction. 

“Yeah, and my suitemates have a shit ton more,” she laughed pushing a few bottles and cans around in the fridge. “So?” she asked Stiles waiting for an answer. 

She saw stiles sit down in her desk chair next to where she sat on the floor. “I mean if you’re offering, I’ll take one of whatever you’re having,” he shrugged. Finley smirked and pulled out a can and handed it to him. 

“I don’t know if you’re a fan of hard coffee like I am,” she pushed a few more bottles and cans around. “If not, I have a couple different beers and uhh- a few different hard lemonades.” She looked up to Stiles who had set her coffee can on the desk. 

“Uhh I guess whatever beer you have then,” Finley sighed and pulled two bottles out, a Corona and a Bud Light, shaking both bottles slightly to tell Stiles to pick. “Corona,” he said firmly, and Finley smirked, holding the bottle out towards him. 

She slid the other back into the fridge and pulled a magnetic bottle opener off the side of her fridge and handed it to him. “My dad and brother drink Corona,” she said, “I actually don’t like beer honestly.”

Finley watched Stiles open the bottle and he set the cap on her desk before putting the bottle opener back where it belonged. She handed him his grilled cheese and the container of mac and cheese, “go get comfortable again,” she nodded towards the bed, “I can tell you’re still in pain and I want to pick a movie to watch.” 

Finley watched Stiles walk back towards the bed and set both containers down before pushing himself up on to the mattress, his brows furrowing in pain while he did. Maybe when he wasn’t paying attention she could try and take away at least a little bit of his pain. “What kind of movies do you have?” She heard Stiles ask while she pulled a chair over to her closet. She stepped on to the chair and pulled a blue, plastic bin off the top shelf, stepping down with it in her hands. 

“Umm it’s a lot of old movies really,” she thumbed through the DVD boxes. “All the Jurassic Park movies, that are out at least, The Godfather movies, The Notebook,” she snorted while she flipped past it, “oh all the Star Wars ones, Harry Potter, Scooby-Doo!” She pulled out the last box and flipped it over seeing it contained many of the classic seasons in the box set. “It’s up to you though,” she walked over to the bed and placed the box down, “you’re the guest.”

She watched Stiles flip through the movies she had before he paused on Star Wars, “I mean,” he held the box up, “it’s my favorite movie.” She saw him look closely at the box, “but I’ve also seen it like a million times,” he mumbled to himself. 

Finley crossed her arms over her chest, “like I said. You’re the guest. You want to watch Star Wars,” she shrugged, “we watch Star Wars.” The Star Wars series had also been one of her favorites growing up. Cian claimed when he had been younger that one day, he would be a Jedi, eventually that dream shifted to working in law enforcement though. 

“Yeah,” Stiles slid the box back into the same place he had pulled it out from. “But you looked really excited when you saw this,” he pulled out the Scooby-Doo box. Finley bit her bottom lip while he held it out to her with a wide smile. “They’re detectives, I mean with my FBI experience, I’m half a detective. So, it should be enjoyable.” Finley let her bottom lip fall from between her teeth and smiled as she grabbed the box from Stiles, going to put the DVD into the player.

Stiles smiled and watched Finley while she walked over to where her television and DVD player were placed on top of her dresser. As much as he had wanted to watch Star Wars, he saw how happy she had been when she found the Scooby-Doo box and figured it was the least he could do, especially when she had gotten dinner and invited him to her room. He took a sip of the beer that he held while watching Finley bend down to plug in the DVD player.

He quickly averted his eyes from her ass as she bent down and focused on the thin layer of white foam that had settled on top of his beer. He had to wait to make a move until he had broken up with Lydia, he couldn’t cheat on her, even if he knew he would be breaking up with her two weeks later. Instead, he opted to pull his phone out and text Scott while Finley fiddled with the DVD player. 

“Scotty Boy, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he typed out the first message and sent it. “You know that wolfy thing where at first you can’t control when you turn? Yeah, that’s my hormones right now.” Stiles watched Finley tuck the DVD remote into the waistband of her shorts, if they could even be called that, before she picked up her own grilled cheese and hard coffee can.

Stiles felt his phone vibrate next to him while Finley set her food and can down on the bed. She pulled the DVD remote out of her shorts along with her phone from the other side, which she also set down on the bed. He looked over when he saw the screen on her phone light up and noticed that a notification for ‘Full Moon’ had popped up on her screen.

“You have two weeks man, and you just met her, can you really feel that drawn to her?” Scott had replied to his message. Stiles let out a loud sigh and Finley turned to look at him while she climbed into her bed, sitting down on the end opposite from Stiles. 

“Well, someone sounds upset,” she laughed picking up the DVD remote and pressing play. Stiles didn’t answer for a moment and instead pulled his grilled cheese box closer to himself, opening it up before looking over to Finley who was still watching him.

He looked into her eyes and shrugged, “just Scott being Scott,” he quickly made up an excuse, “he’s actually with my ex-girlfriend and it’s a whole long story,” that should be a good enough cover. 

“Oh damn,” Finley bit into her grilled cheese. “I’m sorry that must be rough,” she finished her thought. Stiles shrugged and took a bite of his own grilled cheese before trying to think of a proper response.

He swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing to speak, “actually it happened like naturally I guess, I can’t really be mad about it,” Stiles shrugged. “Besides, then I started dating Lydia and just life had gotten crazy, so I didn’t really have the time to complain about it and by the time I did I had already gotten over it.” Stiles picked up his phone and flipped it over again. 

“Isn’t there guy code?” Finley asked. “Like whatever girl code is?” Stiles leaned over the end of the bed to set his beer down on the dresser next to it. 

He shrugged, he wasn’t quite sure about guy code, and he hadn’t had the most conventional high school years to speak on it. “I mean, I’m sure there is,” he replied, “but me and Scott never really worried about I guess, petty stuff like that.” He watched Finley nod before she turned to look at the television. “Good luck with the full moon, by the way,” he sent Scott. 

“I don’t know much about girl code either,” she looked back to Stiles, “so I don’t even really know why I asked,” he watched her look down at her lap, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if she should. 

Stiles sighed before trying to think of something to continue the topic with, hoping to make her more comfortable around him. “I can also tell you that Scott made out with my current girlfriend once, well she kissed him,” he took another bite of his grilled cheese. “Now that I think about it,” he swallowed his food, “we have some weird little incestuous pit going on,” he laughed lightly. 

“The football players and lacrosse girls at my school were like that,” Finley turned to face Stiles better and crossed her legs. “I can like make a whole confusing web of who dated who, and who cheated on who with someone else, and who hooked up with whoever and then started dating but had previously dated someone else. It’s confusing really,” she took a long sip of her drink. 

Stiles shoved the last bite of his first half of grilled cheese into his mouth, “how’d you fit into that web?” He asked around his mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the napkins. 

Finley rolled her eyes while sighing, “do you really want to know?” She asked him.

“I mean-” Stiles shrugged with a small smile, “I’m intrigued now. This seems like an absolute mess.” He hadn’t realized Scott had texted him until his phone vibrated against his leg, and he flipped it over to see a string of texts from Scott. Stiles, however, chose to ignore it; flipping the ringer on his phone off so it wouldn’t vibrate anymore. 

Turning his attention back to Finley he watched as she fiddled nervously with the can in her hands, pressing indents into it where her fingers sat. “Uhh, well for starters I guess I have never dated anyone, never hooked up with anyone, never anything romantic with anyone,” he watched as a blush came over her face, traveling down her neck and past the collar of her shirt.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Stiles mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. Here he was, talking about all the girls he’d been with, which isn’t many, but still. He didn’t want Finley’s lack of experience to make her feel bad about herself. 

Finley shrugged while she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “I had been really interested in one of the guys in our friend group, he played on the line for the football team,” she let out a long sigh. “But then he started dating this other girl, they broke up, he asked me to prom-”

“Oh, so that’s good!” Stiles interrupted. Finley gave him a tiny smile, but he noticed how her lips dropped back down into half a frown.

“Yeah, but then on the night of prom,” she balanced the coffee can on her sock covered feet, avoiding eye contact with Stiles. “He wound up getting back with his ex and prom sucked,” she sighed. She looked up to see Stiles pulling at the napkin in his hands. “And I just made it awkward,” she mumbled.

Stiles’ head shot up at her words. “No!” He cleared his throat. “No, you didn’t! I just-” he tried to find the right words. “I just feel bad, you seem so, kind and genuine, and- and you deserve to be happy,” he offered her a sad smile in return. 

“I’ll find it eventually,” she mumbled, picking at the crust of her grilled cheese. She smelled the sympathy coming off Stiles, and she hated it. He felt bad for her, he just felt bad for her, he wasn’t actually interested in her, someone like him couldn’t be. She was also a supernatural freak, she bit the inside of her bottom lip, who would want to deal with that. She knew Stiles had before, but he and his were-ex hadn’t worked out.

After that a silence fell between the two of them, Finley picking at her grilled cheese while Stiles finished his. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” she pushed the mac and cheese container closer to him, “you can have it.” She saw that Stiles wanted to say something, but he hesitated. Instead, he slid their containers out of the way and set them on the dresser with his beer along with the napkins and forks.

“You really do deserve to be happy,” he said quietly, moving closer to Finley. She continued to chew on the inside of her lip to avoid crying and let out a long stream of air through her nose. “I’m serious,” he added. Finley set her drink on the desk and looked over to Stiles, her cheek resting on her knees while she did. His whiskey-colored eyes softened and he sighed, moving ever closer. 

Finley felt his warmth from where she sat and wanted to move closer, it was like his natural body temperature was trying to pull her even closer. That and his scent had mellowed out, it turned sweeter, relaxing even, like cinnamon and freshly dried clothes. “Like I said,” she let her lip fall from between her teeth, “eventually.” 

Stiles reached out and Finley didn’t protest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She immediately felt most of the tension seep out of her boy when he pulled her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. With the tension leaving her body and Stiles’ warm scent wrapping around her she couldn’t control her emotions and felt a few tears slip out of her eyes, dripping off the tip of her nose. “Hey,” Stiles said quietly, “I promise eventually it’ll all work out.”

“It’s fine,” Finley sat up and wiped her eyes, “I just- I let my emotions get the best of me and I just, don’t usually do that,” she stumbled over her words. Stiles leaned back against the headboard of her bed before grabbing her by the shoulder again and pulling her into him. This was wrong, so, so, wrong, Finley thought to herself, but she gave in. Resting her head against his bicep Finley sighed and felt her eyes slip closed, she couldn’t fight it and wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’ll be happy soon,” she heard Stiles mumble, “I promise.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Father’s Day

Tony Stark x Daughter Reader

Words: 3447 Summary: After seventeen years of living with her mother and abusive step-dad, the reader runs away to Malibu, California to find her real father. Tony is in for a surprise just in time for Father’s Day.

Notes: I had two and a half days to write this so… I don’t know how it is turning out. Hopefully you all will enjoy! Also, the year for this is about 2009, so it takes place sometime after the first movie. (And for the purposes of the imagine, the reader’s features will be mentioned as similar to Robert Downey Jr.’s, so if you look nothing like him, ignore those parts)

Warnings: Abuse and some probably inaccurate science stuff

-

The bruise on your left cheek was the last straw. For three years, you’d put on a brave face, ignored Mal’s verbal jabs and the constant smell of beer. The first time he hit you, you even pretended that it was your fault. At least, that’s what your mother told you.

But you were finally fed up with all of her bullshit. With a backpack and an old photograph in hand, you boarded the bus to Malibu.

Music blasted through your headphones, drowning out the sound of the other tired passengers with the Eagles and Aerosmith. You were surprised by how awake you were. It was nearly 3:00 in the morning as the bus began its journey and other passengers quickly dawned their neck pillows and fell asleep. You’d always been a bit of an insomniac though, constantly finding things to occupy you instead of sleeping.

You stared down at the photo, still in utter disbelief. How could your mother not have told you? When you were little, you’d always ask about your father. She would always tell you he was just a fling when they were both going through some rough times. You looked at the date on the back. December 30, 1991. It would have been right around when his parents died in the car accident and your grandparents kicked your mother out of their basement. The picture was from the concert that they’d met at. It was also the last time that they saw each other… meaning it was the night that made you.

You pulled an old leather-bound journal out of your backpack and added that day’s events, using the photograph as a page marker. You’d kept that journal since you were a kid and even though you thought it was ridiculous, you’d kept writing in it. It wasn’t just the emotional thoughts of an angsty teen, though. It’s where you kept all of your sketches- houses, motorcycles, and even the occasional flying car. Ever since you could remember all you wanted to do was build things. Maybe you got that from him.

As the bus pulled into the stop, you pulled out your headphones and shuffled out along with the other passengers. The soft summer breeze and the sound of the ocean gave you the shot of adrenaline you needed. Inside the station was a small shop that you bought a cup of coffee and a pair of aviators that were screaming your name. After that, all you needed was a taxi.

“Where to?” The driver asked, looking at you in the rearview mirror. There was a hula girl on the dashboard that swayed with the rumble of the engine.

“10880 Malibu Point.” You answered without hesitation. One Google search was all it took. The driver turned around.

“You sure, kid?” He lowered his sunglasses to look at you. You handed him a hundred dollar bill.

“Pretty sure.” You smiled sarcastically as he took the money excitedly. You’d snagged some of Mal’s drug money before you left and you had no problem giving it away. You watched the palm trees against the clear blue sky as you drove passed, feeling your heart begin to beat faster. This was really happening. You were really going to meet him.

Tony was lying on his couch, debating life when Pepper walked in with her usual handful of papers and look of disappointment on her face.

“Have you done anything productive today?” She sighed, placing the papers in front of him. “This is the last of the papers you need to sign to finally dissolve the weapons manufacturing division… I hope.” Tony groaned, sitting up and grabbing a pen.

“I’ll just be glad when the board stops trying to convince me to change my mind.”

“I’ll be glad when you start doing your homework on your own.” She scolded, but when Tony gazed up at her, she was smirking.

“Sir, I hate to interrupt, but there appears to be a teenager at your door,” Jarvis announced. “She doesn’t appear to be selling something, either.” Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at Pepper.

“Could be interesting.” He said, putting down the pen. She shook her head.

“Or it could just be another Iron Man groupie.” Pepper tried to block him from the door as he walked towards it. “You need to finish these.”

“Signing will take me two seconds.” He whined. She returned a raised brow. “I’ll sign them, I promise… After I exchange snarky comments with this kid.” He finally brushed passed her and opened the door.

You froze. You literally couldn’t move. Tony Stark was standing in front of you. Your father was standing in front of you.

“Um…. hi.” You greeted with a mix of nerves and awkwardness.

“Alright, what do you want me to sign?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“What?” Your mind was still hazy.

“Is that why you’re here? To see Iron Man?”

“No,” You laughed anxiously. “Actually, I’m looking for him.” You handed him the old photo and watched his face morph with confusion.

“Where did you get this?” He looked back up at you and you gave him a half smile.

“My mom.” You watched as the realization washed over him.

“No.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Nope. Sorry.” He started to close the door, but you put your hand up to stop it.

“Mr. Stark, please…” You begged. You dropped your gaze to the ground. “I have nowhere else to go.” He sighed and opened the door again.

“Come on, then.” Tony watched you carefully as you walked, trying to find anything that might prove you wrong. The scary part was- you looked like him. From the shape of your face to your eyes, there were definitely similarities to his own features.

“Oh,” Pepper exclaimed when she turned around to see you beside him. “W-who’s this?”

“This is-” Tony began, but stopped with a grimace. “Shit, I didn’t even ask what your name is.”

“I’m Y/N.” You reached your hand out to shake his, feeling even more awkward than before. He shook it with almost as much awkwardness.

“Where are you from?” Tony’s mind was reeling. What questions was he supposed to ask? Did he even believe you? Could this be real?

“I was born in San Francisco, but my mom moved us to Phoenix a couple years ago when she got married.”

“Right, and your mother is…?” Maybe the identity of your mom would prove all of this was a mistake.

“Angela Larson.” Shit.

“And how old are you?”

“17.” Double shit.

“Hi, hello,” Pepper interrupted, “mind if I ask what’s going on?”

“I’m his…um…” The same look of realization fell over her and she took a step back.

“We don’t know for sure.” Tony blurted, earning a hurt glance from you.

“Do you think I’m lying about this?”

“No, I just think you might have been misled. I don’t exactly remember Angela being the most trustworthy person ever.” He searched for every excuse. This couldn’t be real. “She stole my wallet after this picture was taken.” He handed it back to you.

Your demeanor fell and you blinked back sudden tears.

“I guess you’re right. Lying about who my father is wouldn’t be the worst thing she’s ever done.” You took one more look at the photo before folding it up and putting it in your pocket. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

Suddenly, you felt tired. Like the weight of everything was finally bearing down on you. You couldn’t go home, not after stealing from Mal. You obviously weren’t welcome here.  Every part of your instinct was telling you that he was your father and that leaving would be a mistake. But hearing him trying to explain you away showed that he didn’t want any part of the mess that was your life.

Tony watched in shocked silence as you left. The sound of the door closing echoed as he and Pepper exchanged a glance.

“What the hell, Tony?” She exclaimed. “You’re just going to let her leave?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” He fired back. “I thought you’d be on my side here. The daughter of a one night stand shows up saying I”m her father and I should just automatically believe her?” She put her hands on her hips.

“You could at least give her a chance.”

Tony’s conscience warred with his logical mind. Of course, Pepper was right. She always was. Not that he’d tell her. He quickly ran outside, spotting you walking away with your hands in your pockets.

“Y/N!” He called, catching up with you. “Wait.” You turned around and he felt the weight of guilt when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. “H-have you had breakfast yet?” You quietly shook your head. “How about I make you something and we can talk, alright? You came all this way.”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “Thanks.”

-

Tony made you an omelet and some more coffee. Afterward, he said he needed to grab something from downstairs, leaving you with a very nervous Pepper Potts.

“So you’re the famous assistant right?” You wondered with a small smile.

“That’s me.” She sat across the table from you, sipping her coffee slowly. You wiped away the remains of the tear streaks and finished your drink, noticing Pepper’s expression change.

“What, do I have spinach in my teeth?” You asked, feeling blush rush to your face.

“No… what’s on your cheek?” Her voice was concerned, almost motherly. You panicked, looking down at your sleeve where a smudge of foundation had rubbed off.

“Sunburn.” You quickly covered it before she could get a closer look. “I have weird reactions. It’s a skin thing.” You jumped up from your seat, grabbing your backpack. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Upstairs, first door to the left.” She replied, pointing you in the right direction. You scurried off, keeping your hand over the left side of your face. Pepper quickly went downstairs to find Tony and tell him about the obvious bruise.

Tony was sitting in front of the computer waiting for results. He had snuck the fork you were eating with downstairs and had Jarvis scan it for your DNA. He just had to know.

“Tony, there’s something wrong with Y/N.” Pepper began, coming down the stairs. He turned, blocking the screen.

“What do you mean?”

“She has a bruise on her cheek.” Pepper evaluated, crossing her arms. “She covered it with makeup, but I saw it.”

“A bruise from what?” He didn’t know what, but his body tensed. He was almost angry.

“No idea. But it didn’t look good.” Before they could discuss it further, Jarvis finished calculating.

“Sir, I have the results of the test.” He announced. Tony frantically turned around, frantically awaiting his answer. “Angela is definitely her mother.”

“I figured that much.” Tony scoffed. “Tell me what I want to know, Jarvis.” There was a long pause.

“You share DNA, sir. You are undoubtedly Y/N’s father.”

Tony fell back into his chair, running a hand over his face. He was a father. No, he’d been a father for seventeen years and didn’t even know it. He imagined Y/N growing up in San Francisco, probably while Angela picked pockets. Had he known about her… could he have done better?

“Tony,” Pepper whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. He recalled what she was saying earlier and felt his blood boil.

“What were you saying about the bruise?” He stood up and headed up the stairs, leaving Pepper in a mild state of shock. She looked at the screen, seeing the word Confirmed blink across a picture of Tony.

When Tony came back to the kitchen, you weren’t there. Instead, you were in the living room standing in front of the window, looking out over the ocean.

“I didn’t even see you over there,” Tony laughed anxiously, joining you by the window.

“Ever since we moved, this is what I missed the most.” You said quietly. “We had a pretty shitty apartment, but I would always sneak out to the beach just to hear the waves.” You glanced at him and cleared your throat, changing your tone. “You probably don’t care about that, right? Too much teen angst?”

“No no, I like the view too.” He gave you a small smile. “What would you say about staying here for a while? I don’t want you stuck up in some hotel by yourself.” You blinked, surprised by his offer. A few hours ago, he didn’t want anything to do with you.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.” There was a moment of quiet, but it wasn’t awkward anymore. It was… nice.

“Tony!” Pepper called out, coming up the stairs. “I’m going to take the papers back to Stark Industries, but you have to sign them first.” Tony grabbed a stack of pages off of the table.

“No need, I’ll take them.” He turned to you. “You can come with if you want. Get to see where I work.” You smiled. Actually, truly smiled. And it was contagious. Seeing your face light up made Tony feel something he’d never felt before.

“Let’s go.”

He took you down to the garage and you felt like you needed someone to pinch you. You had to be dreaming. The room was lined with some of the coolest, most amazing cars you had ever seen.

“Take your pick.” You walked around until you saw a car that was begging to be driven. A white Audi R8 Spyder glistened in front of you. Tony chuckled behind you. “Good choice, kid.” He opened the door for you and you slid into the passenger seat. Pepper had followed the two of you and handed you a pen.

“Make sure he signs those.” She smirked.

“Will do, Miss Potts.” You grinned back. Pepper watched as the two of you put on your sunglasses in unison and leaned back in the car seat, both resting your arm on the door. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. You were just like him.

-

Stark Industries was even better than you’d expected. Just the building itself made your sketches seem like kindergarten drawings. You slung your backpack over your shoulder, not noticing your journal fall back into the seat. It fell open to one of your sketches and Tony picked it up to examine it as you walked ahead. He flipped through to a few more, admiring your attention to detail. He couldn’t believe that a seventeen-year-old had come up with all of this stuff. He even felt a little proud.

But then he found a few journal entries. “Mal freaked out again today.” One began. “I don’t understand what I did. He just kept screaming at me until… Mom says it’s just a fat lip. That it’s not the end of the world. She also says it was my fault. She always takes his side.”

He found more and more entries with similar events. He felt sick. Like it was his fault.

“Are you coming?” You call after him. He stuffed the journal into his suit jacket.

“Yeah, just hold on!” He replied grabbing the papers and put on a fake smile to hide his concern. At least now, he knew where the bruise came from.

You spent a few hours in his office while he had to deal with some aggravated board members, but afterwards, you grabbed some take-out and headed back to the house. As weird as the whole situation was, you were starting to feel like he was accepting you.

When you got back, however, there was a familiar piece-of-shit truck sitting in front of the house.

“Dammit.” You muttered. Tony looked at you with worry.

“Who is that?” He motioned to the two people standing on his front steps.

“My mom and my asshole stepdad.” You ducked down under the dashboard, but they’d already seen you.

“Get out here you little bitch!” Mal barked. Tony gripped the steering wheel, parking quickly and getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

“If you want to talk, you’ll have to make an appointment-” Before he could finish, Mal right hooked his jaw.

“Tony!” You yelled, hopping out of your seat.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” Angela snapped, but you ignored her, heading straight for Mal.

“Leave him alone!” You demanded, standing in between the two men. Mal grabbed you by the hair, dragging you back towards the truck, making you scream.

“Where’s my money?” He boomed, pulling you up towards him, his spit spraying against your forehead.

“Bite me.” You snarked back and he slammed your head down on his knee.

“Hey, Breaking Bad!” Tony shouted. When Mal turned around, Tony’s face was covered by a metal helmet. Pepper had heard the commotion outside and brought out the suit in the form of a metal case. Now, Tony had his hand, loaded with repulsor beams, pointed at Mal’s head. “Put my daughter down.”

“You didn’t tell me your ex was Iron Man!” Mal said, shoving you to the side. Angela ran towards Tony.

“We’re leaving. And we’re taking Y/N with us.” She jeered.

“You think I’m letting her go back with you?” He opened the mask, revealing his furious expression.

“Seventeen years, you can’t just decide to be a father.”

“Cause he’s doing such a bang-up job.” He pointed to Mal. “You want to take this to court, Angie? Because I think the odds are in my favor.”

“You’re fancy lawyers don’t scare me, Stark. You didn’t even know she existed.” She challenged. “She’s coming with me.”

“No.” You shakingly got to your feet, head still spinning and nose bleeding. “I’m not mom.”

“Shut up, Y/N!” She shrieked.

“Who do you think they’ll pick, Angela?” Tony wondered. “The billionaire philanthropist or you; the petty thief and Meth Breath over there? I’m her father, Angela. Just because you tried to hide it, doesn’t change the facts. Now, you can either leave now and never come back, or I’ll dig up every one of your dirty secrets and turn them into the cops.”

Both of them froze, exchanging a look before Angela spit at Tony’s feet and the two got back in their truck, without looking back.  

“Oh my god!” Pepper finally gasped. “Are you guys okay?” Tony rushed over to you, grabbing you as you toppled forward, stilling holding your throbbing head.

“Pep, grab me some towels.” He asked as he helped you through the front door. “Oh, and Pepper? Get me a drink.”

-

When you woke up the next morning, you heard the sound of ocean waves and smelled bacon. Tony had opened one of the windows to give you some fresh air and had started making breakfast. Your head still felt heavy, but your nose had stopped bleeding and you could see straight.

“Good morning.” He greeted, placing a plate of pancakes in front of you. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made french toast too.”

“This is fine.” You laughed, picking up the fork and digging in. You were starving. Tony sat on the floor across from you, drinking a smoothie that Pepper said was healthy, but it tasted like grass.

“I should, uh, I should give this back to you.” He placed your journal on the table. “I saw what you wrote about Mal.”

“You read my journal?” You exclaimed, and he put up his hands in defense.

“It fell out of your backpack. I didn’t know what it was.” He gave you a small smile. “But I did see some of those drawings. They’re pretty good.” You felt yourself blush.

“Thanks.” That meant a lot coming from one of the most brilliant engineers you knew. You set down your fork and started to dig through your bag. “I almost forgot about this.” You handed him a Rubix cube.

“What’s this for?”

“It was my seventh-grade science fair project.” You moved around the table and sat next to him. You pressed the middle red square and the cube began to shift in Tony’s hand, turning and twisting until all of the colors were on the same side. “It’s a Rubix cube that solves itself.” You brushed your hair out of your face, trying to hide your nerves. “I brought it to give to you… for today.”

“Today?” Tony tried to remember what was special until he figured it out, a smile spreading across his face.

“Happy Father’s Day dad.” You said and he drew you into the hug you’d been waiting your whole life for. You finally felt like you had a family.

[mintytrifecta]

Someone That I Used To Be chapter 3

Chapter 2: https://mintytrifecta.tumblr.com/post/618490750838177792/someone-that-i-used-to-be-chapter-2 AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818781/chapters/55853956#workskin Dakota didn’t need glasses. After he became an assassin he got an eye check and had almost perfect vision.  As far as he was concerned his eyesight was 20/20. So why does he have sunglasses? Everyone asks. “Nothing, they’re just a pair of glasses I got a while ago. Nothing special.” Dakota slides his thumb back and forth on the handles of his shades. He sighs. He feels the scratched edges of the old plastic in his fingers.  Innocent plastic, a familiar comfort against his bloodied fingers .A pair of regular old glasses. The lenses have cuts in uncomfortable positions. The handles have snapped off more times than he can count yet Dakota keeps repairing them stubbornly with shaking fingers. He can get a pair in any mall he visits, yet he won’t let this one go. He’s sitting on his and Cavendish’s bed. A heavy silence weighs upon them as Cavendish ponders what Dakota told him.  He fidgets with his glasses. “Kota, You’ve saved me time and time again. Sacrificed yourself countless times for me. What you’ve done in the past, it’s timelines away. You said it yourself, that what you did doesn’t happen anymore. You’re a good person Vinnie. A hero.” Dakota chuckles, a humorless and dry laugh. “That excuses nothing. I know what I did, even if i’m sorry, even if it didn’t happen anymore. There’s really no excuse here, Cav. No matter how many times I say sorry it won’t change. I’m unforgivable.” Cavendish tuts and lifts Dakota’s face to his. Dakota sees warm skies love in them. “I forgive you.” Dakota starts to cry .--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dakota was a strange man, Cavendish thought. From the instant they first met there was something about him that Cavendish couldn’t quite place. As if he’d known him before. Cavendish found himself getting annoyed and confused by him in such a primal, instinctive way and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. Cavendish and Dakota have been working together for years. They know each other better than anyone else. Cavendish is not oblivious. Cavendish keeps his guard up. Cavendish is destined for greatness and knows the obstacles. One such obstacle, is the nagging in the back of his head telling him to run away whenever Dakota is near him. Cavendish wants to scream at Dakota. He wants to know what he’s hiding. Cavendish may be an incompetent agent but he will not be an incompetent friend. Cavendish feels in his feet the need to climb up a mountain. He wants the approval of his superiors. He wants to prove he can be more than what was expected of him all his life. He will create greatness and he knows it. What does Dakota want? Cavendish wonders. Dakota wants to sail in a long peaceful boat ride. He wants to see the beauty of life at every age. Dakota wants to see the smiles on people’s faces. Wants the loving embrace of his partner. He wants to watch the sunset go down on a calm summer evening.Dakota wants tranquility. So when hearing Dakota confess to him what he’s done, Cavendish finds himself unsurprised. Cavendish has seen the lengths Dakota went through to save him. He’s seen how selfless Dakota can be. Dakota is a good person and Cavendish pities him for not seeing it. Cavendish takes Dakota’s glasses from his shaking, crying, guilty hands and sets them aside. Cavendish moves in to hug the shorter man, not caring about how wet his suit will end up. Dakota embraces him and falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Days pass and the two find themselves sitting on the Danville docks. Watching the repetitive lapses of the waves. “Do you know where I got my glasses from?” “Didn’t you say you brought them from your own timeline?” Dakota chuckles and smiles softly, the rose-tinted glasses reflecting the orange of the water as the sun strikes it. “Yeah. I got them from one of my missions. It was supposed to be a regular old mission but to be honest, I think it was one of my most important ones.” Cavendish raises a brow.“Well? Go on then, tell me this supposed ‘important mission’ of yours.” Dakota starts .------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Your next target lives in the south side of Danville. 70 year old Jonah Murphy.” “70 years old? Won’t he just be dead in a few years anyway?”His client shook her head. “Unfortunately not. By all accounts he should not be alive. Strange things happen around this man and we cannot take any more chances. He must be killed. For the safety of my people.” she spoke.

Dakota raised a suspicious brow and shrugged. Job’s a job, he guessed. Dakota left the building and stepped out into the street. Put his hands in his jacket pockets and started walking. Along the cracked streets lined with vines and fallen rubble he tried to envision his plan. Dakota supposed he could go with an easy weapon route, but he’d much rather not get his hands dirty, he had just cleaned his jacket from the last mission. Dakota stepped into a boat waiting near a bridge. The Danville dam broke down forever ago and the city didn’t have the money to fix it (they barely had any money but that’s besides the point) so they turned some streets into canals. Dakota guessed he could go with drowning but that’ll be messy. His body will be easily recognizable considering how few people live in the city and how they all seem to know each other. That option’s out, then. Dakota swerved the boat into south Danville. Let’s see, he lives in 5521 Druid Dr. Really Druid Sail now, Dakota joked in his head. He pulled the paddle to a stop near a small dock and got out of the boat. It’s showtime. He jumped the fence and found an unexpected sight. Broken glass lies on the tall grass, ivy covers the tree and burn marks show no hesitation in announcing their presence. The backyard deck has a suspiciously sized how in one corner, broken concrete in another. Smashed residue of what once could have been a grill lie crumpled under a now-rubble rooftop of the deck. You’d think an old man would know how to take care of his own health, jesus.

At least the back door is still somewhat intact. Dakota walked forward to it, leaves crunch with every step he made. The door’s unlocked and thank heaven for that. Dakota was sure if he tried to pry it open he’d be smashed under rubble.Dakota entered the house and found chaos. A flickering light welcomed him inside the dining area. A pitiful sight lied before him. A singular wooden chair stood on one edge of the table, it’s wood almost rotten and completely destroyed. The kitchen, once blue and white, was dusted and jaded. The sink dripped water repeatedly and the metal around it rusted. Whoever this man was, clearly didn’t care about his wellbeing. Dakota gathered. But why should he care? This man’s his target, it only makes Dakota’s job easier. “It used to be beautiful.” Dakota jumped and whipped his head towards the source of the sound. In the living room, a person sat. “What did you say?” Dakota stepped closer to the man and assessed his appearance. The man had his eyes closed. Bags under it showing proudly. His cheeks sagged with wrinkles and dark spots. Atop his head, light white hair stood up, almost like feathers. His lips dry and cracked, yet still smiling. Dakota swore he could see scars covering the man’s face. His hands sat on top of one another, resting on his knees. Long, thin fingers slowly moved back and forth on his other hand. His arms were covered by long green sleeves hugging his body. His pants were ripped and dirty but the man didn’t seem to care. Dakota inquired.“Who’re you?” The man didn’t open his eyes. “You know who I am, son.” Dakota blinked. This was his target.This was his target? Really? “You were expecting me.” His soft smile expanded. His thin brows curved towards his eyes.“Yes. Yes I did.” “So you know why I’m here. And you’re okay with that?” His Target let out a quiet laugh. Dakota couldn't help but notice the wheeze trying to hide under it.“This was a long time coming. I would not be surprised by this fifty years ago and I am not surprised by it now.”Dakota quirked his head to the side.The Target seemed to sense his confusion. If he did, he didn’t mention it. “Would you like some tea, son?” Dakota was taken aback for a moment before stuttering out a quick “Uh, yeah sure.” The Target took his cane from off the couch and got up. “Sit down, young man. I’ll be right back.” Dakota obliged.He watched the man walk over to his kitchen. A slight limp on his left foot, his back is slightly slouched. The Target seemed unfazed by it. “I thought tea companies shut down fifty years ago? They were taking too many plants from the environment?” The Target reached a top cabinet and pulled out two mugs. “They were. Of course, that won’t stop people from growing their own tea leaves, now would it?” Dakota’s face reddened in embarrassment. “Ah, right.” He watched the Target fill up a tea kettle with water and put it on the stove. The Target stepped outside for a moment. “Excuse me, but will you watch the water while I go get the leaves?” Dakota muttered “Okay”. “Thank you so much, young man.” Dakota stood up to head for the kettle. His eyes never left the Target. He watched as the Target stepped over the rubble and headed towards the back fence. A small flower garden stood beneath a blanket covering them. Hiding produce, clever. Dakota thought. Thieves will steal anything they can no matter what. He watched the Target bend down to the flowers with some struggle. He picked out some green leaves from the edge of one of the rows and stood back up. Just as he did, a branch filled with bird eggs dropped from a tree.The Target noticed this and threw his cane away, with a sprint he caught the branch safely and brought it to the ground. He limped back to his cane and picked it up, leaves still in his hand.The Target entered the house, his drooping eyes bordered on pettiness as he saw Dakota’s gobsmacked expression. “Close your mouth, son. Unless you want to end up eating a fly.”Dakota shook his head and stared at his Target. “How did you do that?! It was like ten feet away from you and you just ran towards it and caught it perfectly! Your leg is injured and you use a cane. What were you thinking running towards it like that?!” The Target let out a wild, loud cackle. His laughs echoing in guffaws and snorts. The wheezing was still there, but the Target didn’t care. “Curious, are you? I’ll answer your questions in due time. For now, just stop the kettle from overflowing more.”Dakota did a double take and turned the stove off, grumbling at the snickers coming from the Target. The two took the cups and Kettle into the living room and set them down on the table. The Target on the couch, Dakota on the floor. Dakota watched as the Target poured the water into the cups, leaves adding a golden colour to the liquid.“Sugar cube?” “Oh, no thank you I’m good.” Dakota spoke uncomfortably.“Why are you being so nice to me? I’m here to kill you.” The Target sipped his tea in small parts before setting it down and answering. “Anyone who enters this house is my guest and guests deserve common courtesy. Your visit just happens to be more er… urgent. But common courtesy is common courtesy no matter what.” Dakota hummed and brought his cup towards his lips. The warmth of the tea reminded him of a fireplace during the cold nights of winter. Dakota smiled. “What’s on your mind there, son?” “Just… thinking of old friends is all.” “Oh?” “Yeah, I grew up with a buncha siblings. I mean, we weren’t related but we were still family, Y’know? We all wandered around the city’s ruins looking for things to eat in trash cans before we met. Me an’ Joey went around all of town finding other boys and girls with no place to go and ended up forming a base in an old abandoned zoo. We all stayed there and helped each other as much as we could. Eventually, an old woman found us and took us in. All of us. I remember she’d sing to us lullabies every night. She was from Italy, I think? So all of her songs were in Italian. Of course that didn’t stop us from learning the words.” Dakota chortles as he continues,“I remember this one year, it was winter. We were all getting ready for Christmas and spent the whole day working for it. Lanna, Eva and Mandy took Mom on an “adventure” around the city, which they claimed had a dragon roaming through it. Billy, Nick and Sam worked on the food, being the ones to actually come from households who knew how to cook. While Joey, Cam and I decorated the house. By the end of the day we were all so exhausted we fell asleep in the living room before we could actually celebrate.  When the girls came back, they basically fainted into our dogpile and slept with us. Mom lit the fireplace near us and slept on her chair.” The Target nodded along to Dakota, his smile becoming wider and wider. “Sounds like you had quite a childhood.” Dakota let out a huff in happiness. “Yeah. I did.” The two sat in silence until Dakota cleared his throat. “So what about you? I mean, what’s with all the mystery around you? You’re practically the only person who lives on this street, you know that right?”The Target’s smile faltered for a brief second, barely seen.“Come on a walk with me.” He ordered.The Target stood up and started walking towards the front door. Dakota sat on the floor for a few seconds before processing what was happening and scrambled up to the Target.“Woah woah wait where are we going? You can’t just leave like that.”The Target stood outside of the door, looking at Dakota from the outside. “I just did.” The door slammed closed. Dakota laughed and ran towards the door. This Target is ridiculous! He opened the door and skittered across the pavement, almost falling into the water. The Target was already walking.“Hey, hold on a second. Wait up!” The Target yelled back, “If I can walk faster than you at this age then there’s no chance you’ll get to kill me!” Dakota rolled his eyes and sprinted to the Target. As he caught up the Target side eyed him and snarked.“Ah, so you can catch up. Good to know I’m as fit as a spring chicken.” Dakota lightly smacked the Target’s shoulders and kept walking with him. “You do realize that we’re not in your house anymore, right? Means I’m no longer a guest and can kill you anytime now.” “Oh yes I know. I just thought we’d want a change of scenery. After all, I still didn’t answer your question did I?” Dakota raised his finger to retort before putting it down. “No. No you didn’t.” “And you want to know don’t you?” “Yes. Yes I do.” “Guess you’ll have to wait with the killing, then!” The Target beamed. Dakota huffed in annoyance and stuffed his hands in his jacket. The two walked in a comfortable silence. At least, until a metal beam almost impaled Dakota. The Target grabbed Dakota’s shoulders and pushed him away as the beam struck the ground where Dakota was standing. The Target barely flinched. Dakota stood there breathing heavily.“Okay what the fuck! That’s the second time you’ve done that. What are you, a bad luck magnet?” The Target signalled for Dakota to keep walking. “You could say that.” “I hope you realize that doesn’t answer my questions.” “I’m aware.” “Of course you are” After the fifth or sixth time something weird happened around them, Dakota started getting fed up with the nonsense. How and why does this not faze Target? He didn’t say anything, but kept a close eye to everything around them.The two came to a stop in front of an alley. Dakota looked confused. The Target looked delighted.“So our stop for the rest of the conversation is… an alleyway?” “Quit your complaining we’re not there yet.” Dakota was soon to figure out, their destination was a hidden part of the Danville docks. “The docks extend into the lake here. Not many people know that.” Dakota looked around in amusement. “Neat place. Lotsa green.” The Target gave a chuckle. “Yes, lots of green.” They walked towards the edge of the dock and sat down, the waves licked the sand with soft calming caresses. “Murphy’s Law.” Dakota looked at the Target. “I’m sorry, what?” “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That’s Murphy’s Law. Throughout generations my family has been dealing with Murphy’s Law to its fullest extent. Extreme Hereditary Murphy’s Law, it’s known as.”The Target sighs. “That’s why I live alone. Why my house looks the way it does. It belonged to my family for generations. I thought it would stand much longer than it did.”Dakota nods. “You can’t control it?” The Target shakes his head, “No, sonny. No.” “We’ve tried to control it before but it never worked. We Murphys always believed that the only thing you can control it with is a positive attitude and good attention. ”His smile drops into a frown. “But positive attitude can’t fix blindness.” The Target twists his ring around on his finger. “Your wife?” Dakota hesitated. “She was… wonderful. Put up with anything Murphy’s Law threw at her. No matter how intense it was she promised to stay by my side. That is, until a broken ultraviolet light flashed in her eyes. She went almost completely blind. Watching her struggle the way she did.. You can’t understand how painful that was. She died months afterwards. Car crash.” “I’m.. so sorry.” “Absolutely nothing to be sorry for. We had good times and that’s all that matters.”Jonah spilled a tear. “And that’s all that matters.” Dakota gazed at the ocean.“What if… what if I never find that?” Jonah raised a brow.“Find what exactly?” “What you had.” Jonah took a deep breath and answered.“It’s always out there. You might have seen in already, you might have not. The good moments never stray too far to those willing to look for them. Seek out happiness and it will find you.” Dakota felt a nudge on his shoulder. “Somewhere out there, you’ll find your happiness.”Jonah held out a pair of orange glasses. Their lenses were tinted rose-gold. The outer part is covered in plastic gold and a small red line. “She would put on the most ridiculous pair of glasses she could find whenever we met with friends. She kept saying she doesn’t want pity, she wants laughter. On our wedding anniversary, she gave me these.” “You’re giving it to me? Why?” “Dakota, I have barely another day left on Earth. I’m sure she’d want me to give them to someone else before I passed. This is a symbol of happiness for me. I want it to be one for you too.” Dakota took the glasses from Jonah and hesitantly put them on. He looked at Jonah for approval. Wrinkled dry lips spread into a smile, old, baggy eyes watered. “They fit you perfectly.” The two sat on the docks watching the sun go down, Jonah leaned on Dakota and with one last breath, Jonah said,“ You’re a good man.”