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sshbpodcast · 10 months

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Bonk bonk on the head: Children in Star Trek

By Ames

There are myriad reasons why your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By don’t usually care for children characters in our Star Trek, most of which are highly subjective and involve how much we dislike kids in general for being obnoxious, snotty, blithering miscreants. But that may just be me. What’s a more reasonable and less obstinate reason for disliking them so much of the time is that writers have no idea how to write for children characters, and all too frequently (especially in older shows) these youngsters just don’t have the acting chops even if the writers could give them something to do.

So let’s let the children run rampant as we go through what makes a good child character in a show like any of the classic Trek series. Which kids get a pat on the head and which get the infamous bonk bonk? Read on below for their report cards and listen to us pass notes in class over on this week’s episode of the podcast (discussion at 59:10). Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Unruly mobs of kids

What would one call a group of children in a Star Trek show? An anomaly of children? A supermassive black hole of children? Regardless, the worst kids come in bunches. When there’s a horde of them running around, you can tell we’re going to have a bad time on this podcast because obnoxiousness is exponential and also because it means the writers are probably using the children as some kind of general plot device. We see this in “When the Bough Breaks” and “And the Children Shall Lead” when the whole point of the episodes is to save a mass of mewling children from whatever nonsense we’ve gotten messed up in. Was it worth it to save these brats? You be the judge.

We get smaller groups of children in “Disaster” and “Innocence,” but their purpose is mostly the same: to test the patience of whichever officer they’re stuck with during some kind of crisis so that they can come out the other side slightly more developed. It’s not about the kids themselves; it’s about how our hero character grows. Picard, who notoriously hates kids, is stuck in a turbolift with three pissants in scenes that might as well be torture. And Tuvok pushes his Vulcan patience to the brink, putting up with three Drayan kids who harbor the dumbest secret the show could have attempted.

But the “Miri” kids really take the cake, despite introducing us to Phil and Iona Morris, whom we still love. But dang, kids in the 60s just couldn’t act. The two lead kids were played by freakin’ adults, having to play children who were prepubescent because there was no way they could carry an episode otherwise. Aside from being utterly distracted by those two, we found the rest of the episode felt like watching the crew get put in charge of a particularly rowdy daycare. This episode gets two bonks on the head.

—

My parent is a big deal at the Starfleet factory

In your typical monster-of-the-week episodic television, these children of the week get a brief moment in the sun just because their parents are Starfleet (or uncles… or godparents… listen you try making a list like this). They don’t get to stick around long enough to really develop, and thus they get one episode to resolve whatever their conflict is, and thusly thus, they start falling into that same category in which they feel more like props than characters. Take Ian Troi from “The Child” and Clara Sutter from “Imaginary Friend” for example. Both are merely serving as the impetus to get the story to the ending. And strangely, it’s the same ending: we learn the little kid was just an alien trying to learn about our culture through the eyes of a child. Like they say: if I had a nickel for every time this happened, I’d have two nickels, but it’s still weird it happened twice in the same damn show.

Similarly, consider Belle and Jeffrey, the EMH’s holochildren from “Real Life.” They are quite literally props, first that the Doctor creates to allow him the experience of simulated parenting, and second that are used very blatantly to develop his character. I’d say they’re both acted quite well (Belle’s final scene is really quite lovely), but they are not here to be characters, but caricatures. René Picard fills a similar role in the Picard family in the episode “Family.” He doesn’t get a ton to do, but he mostly represents the conflict between brothers Jean-Luc and Robert: one part the explorer among the stars and one part loyal to the family. Which will René choose? Never mind, he burns in a fire. So much for exploring the duality of character that Jean-Luc himself struggles with. The poor thing.

Janeway’s godson Q Junior from “Q2” might be a slightly better executed example in this category, and it’s probably because Keegan de Lancie can act. And was a teen at the time. And because the episode was about him developing as a character instead of being used to propel someone else’s development or to get us to the end of a science fiction story. If it weren’t for the sorta twist ending, he’d fit well in our next mass of children…

—

Orphan boys on the airlock-step

You’d think Star Trek were a Disney movie with just how many orphaned children are running around, looking for guidance from crew members whose expertise is questionable at best. Since we get stuck with most of these kids because of some kind of accident or crisis or bad sale made by Quark, it’s a little bit understandable that they come with a big helping of emotional baggage. Which, frankly, gives them something the previous group of children didn’t have: a starting personality trait. On Deep Space Nine, for instance, we meet Rubal in “Cardassians,” the child of a gul who is raised by Bajorans to hate his biological people, and also the Jem’Hadar child from “The Abandoned” whom Odo attempts to raise to not be so bloodthirsty but fails because it’s in his DNA. These are kids we feel for because they are forced to confront the racism inherent in our societies, especially when O’Brien is around!

Next Gen is just teeming with orphans and we get a couple whose parents in Starfleet get killed in the line of duty when we meet Jeremy Aster in “The Bonding” and Timothy in “Hero Worship.” Each latches on to an Enterprise crewmember (Worf and Data, respectively) as a way to cope with their grief, and their stories are actually pretty empathetic… though they’d be more so if they weren’t child actors from the 90s.

We talked a little on the podcast this week about our keening friend Jono from “Suddenly Human” and how his story is a very thought-provoking one. Sure, the boy himself is a freaking monster I wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially Picard, but when you cut through his tough exterior and upsetting misogyny, there is a child who harbors a great deal of trauma, reforged identity, and love for his adoptive father Endar, whom you’ll remember from our Parents blogpost!

—

Girl scout troop leaders

It’s a little strange that we see so many times little kids – little girls in particular – who act as tour guides to their culture. Perhaps it’s that we can understand another complex society more easily when it’s through the innocent eyes and uncomplicated language of children, and all these young girl scouts are just so naturally sweet, caring, and empathetic that they want to help our crew members through their scrapes. Oji from “Who Watches the Watchers” and Gia from “Thine Own Self” fit this bill to a tee. Each comes from a less developed society, but their curiosity and open minds urge them to want to learn about the newcomers to their villages and also to help these newcomers learn about them in return.

We also have two young leaders in this group in Salia from “The Dauphin” and Varis Sul from “The Storyteller.” These two episodes are basically the same story: 1) young princess needs to learn how to lead her society; 2) a love interest on the ship / space station makes googoo eyes at her; 3) everyone learns a lesson in how to treat people. Are they way too young to be leading their people? Absolutely. But they’re actually the perfect age to introduce the audience to their culture and put a friendly face on a bunch of weird aliens.

One more little girl who introduces us to her culture is Hedril in “Dark Page,” who reminds Lwaxana of her late daughter Kestra so much she goes into a coma about it. Hedril herself does a good job of serving as the literal voice of her people, and her youth is actually appropriate for her role because her mind is flexible enough to adapt to new languages and new experiences that the Cairn adults struggle with. We’ll even see a couple more of these plucky gals in our next section since they’re so ubiquitous.

—

Can we adopt these kids?

So what gets you on our list of favorite minor or one-off children from all of classic Trek? It seems to be as simple as the ability to surprise us. Good science fiction characters have layers, and the kids on our best list are all more than meets the eye. Two kids who turn out to be more than what they seem are Barash from “Future Imperfect” and Taya from “Shadowplay,” neither of whom are actually the little children they appear to be on the outside and that just makes them all the more lovable. Whether you’re a little alien boy with a holoprojector who could also fit in our orphans category and who just wants a play date, or a little hologram girl who herself is basically a walking, talking dolly, these kids can stick around.

We’re also fans of Sarjenka from “Pen Pals,” yet another from our troop of girl scouts here to put a cute face on the periled people she’s literally the voice of. Her innocence, childlike wonder, and ingenuity to basically work a HAM radio are enough to make us shatter the Prime Directive any day. We haven’t gotten to Enterprise on the podcast yet, but be prepared to really root for Sim when we hit “Similitude.” His story is so tragic and empathetic that it’ll definitely elicit some kind of emotional response, so make sure you’re following the podcast when we hit that episode for a really heart-wrenching spin on a child character.

Hands down though, our favorite kid character has got to be Mezoti, the droneling we first picked up in “Collective.” From the moment we meet her, she just screams personality. It certainly helps that she’s got the leg up on most other children because she’s also got the collected experiences of the Borg Collective to pull from, but that gives her some interesting layers of depth and adds conflict into her complex character in ways even adult characters don’t always get. Resistance to her character was indeed futile.

—

Main character kids

These kids are kinda in a class all their own because we see them enough that they’re really part of the family. Literally! They grow up in front of our eyes on their respective shows, and our connections with them vary wildly depending on their writing. Molly O’Brien and Alexander Rozhenko, for instance, are [usually] both so very young that they’re more props than characters. You can’t really expect stellar acting out of children that small and predictably we don’t get it, often to infuriating effect. Working around children’s limited abilities and scheduling regulations makes some of these episodes just a pain to watch, no matter how cute they are.

The bigger kids like Wesley Crusher and Naomi Wildman (thank goodness for Ktarian aging!) have it easier because they can actually be relied upon to do things. Some would say Wesley sucks as much as his sweaters, but I contend that it’s that the writers let the plot dictate his character instead of the other way around. They need Wesley to save the day all the time to show how he’s a child prodigy, infuriating all the adults around him who should have the run of the room. When the seasons progress and Wil Wheaton leaves the main cast, the focus on his appearances is more character based than plot based, like in some great performances in “Final Mission,” “The Game,” and “Journey’s End.” Naomi, on the other hand, just gets to be a kid! And she’s great at it! We see her in lots of settings and scenarios that are appropriate for her age, and whenever she does something clever, it’s because she’s being taught how to be clever, not showing up everyone around her. And when she’s the focus of an episode like “Once Upon a Time,” she really proves that she’s a character first and a literary device much much further down the list.

Jake Sisko is basically the poster child of how to write a child character in Star Trek, or even just in general. He’s defined by his relationships with people, not by what an episode needs from him. The father-son bond that we talked about in our Parents post is on high display, as well as his friendship with Nog, a child character who already has a leg up because he’s portrayed by a more experienced adult actor in Aaron Eisenberg, giving young Cirroc Lofton something to work with instead of against. Jake and Nog are both allowed to just be kids! To grow naturally, to get in trouble, to develop into more faceted people as children do. The science fiction nature of the show is just the setting, not the entirety of their characters and it’s a delight to watch their earnest portrayals and the people they become.

— Ollie ollie oxen free! We’re going to give everyone a time out just to get a little peace and quiet around here, so keep your eyes here for more posts, follow along as we near the end of our watchthrough of Voyager over on SoundCloud or wherever you listen to podcasts, hang out with us on Facebook and Twitter, and don’t trust those pesky grups!

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antihibikase2 · 6 months

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Death no longer tormented Shauntal, cruel as it sounded.

Even if it was the funeral of her best friend's mother, she remained calm as everyone around her crumbled, worried about the growing fight outside, all the while she babysat Grimsley's kid sibling.

Little Cheri was always such a peculiar child.

It came as a surprise to Shauntal that the little one was being followed around by only one ghost whose face she and her grandmothers could not decipher, compared to the many, distinguishable faces that followed her and many others.

Such as Grimsley- whose mother's spirit was beginning to form, picking who to side between him and his father as they argued.

She sees one of the grown ups- the one with a blonde daughter putting flowers on Mrs. Slater's casket, stand up from pew, while his wife reminds him to not partake in a squabble between father and son, especially when both were hurting.

His daughter remains oblivious to whatever the grown ups were arguing about, but she jumps off the little wooden stool to approach her and little Cheri- who had fallen asleep on her lap.

"Cheri?" She holds up a white flower.

Shauntal smiled at the little blonde girl- she too was peculiar.

No ghosts followed her, but she had a strange aura- one of regret and worry.

The spirit that could have haunted her was bound somewhere that couldn't reach her; all they had to give her was a will-o-wisp, one that would lead her to them someday.

"Cheri is sleeping right now," Shauntal says, a finger held up against her lips. "But if you want, I can give them that flower later."

"Give to Cheri?" Her green eyes blinked, pursing her lips into a pout and puffing her cheeks. "Promise?"

She holds up her pinky to the little girl with a giggle. "Of course! Pinky promise!"

This pleases the little girl. She gives the flower to Shauntal without so much as a fuss, and runs back to picking more for Mrs. Slater.

"Oh, you're such a heavy sleeper, aren't you?" She talks to the little one in her arms. "That's good- your brother is so unruly sometimes. He can be quite loud."

Her point was proven at the sound of glass shattering against the floor; she hoped it was Grimsley throwing a fit.

She chose to believe his father was a good man, if not simply misunderstood.

Cheri's head shifts a little, soft hair brushing against her neck.

"What a rowdy family you have," She sighs. "Hopefully, you won't be anything like them when you're older."

...

"I saw your brother," Shauntal says with a grin, watching Grimsley pick up the Pokeballs on the floor.

Someone was caught off-guard, she thought.

"I was the first one he challenged."

"And he left me for last," His pride as a trainer may have been shattered, but a part of Grimsley couldn't help but feel a little good about Cheri's- Cheren's growth. "I got swept. Badly."

"No kidding?"

"Marshal gave him his Gigalith-"

"Now, now. It's unfair to give Marshal all the credit."

"I know, but-"

He takes a deep breath.

"..I just didn't expect him to be this good already. He's bonded quick with Marshal's Gigalith. He seemed to be in sync with the rest of his party."

"Then," Shauntal beams. "You're worrying over nothing."

"You think so?"

"Seems to me he grew into quite the splitting image of you, back in your younger days- and he's just as chatty."

She sits atop her Jellicent, amused smile on her face.

"He has the same determination in his eye, a desire to prove something- not to mention, he's wearing similar clothes too. Maybe he still looks up to his big brother Giima after all?"

There's a moment of silence.

"You think so?"

"Mhm."

"Even if I've been a good-for-nothing, absent brother?"

"Hey, you're the one saying those things, not me."

There's a slight rumble under the heels of her sandals- but before she notices, she gives Grimsley a big thumbs up.

"You're doing just fine."

...

A castle rises from the depths.

The gym leaders took the front entrance, while the Elite Four went through the back, capturing as many grunts as possible, halting any chance of escape.

A few slipped through their fingers.

Shauntal wondered if whoever poisoned Cheren was one of those people.

She could do nothing but watch as Grimsley collapsed to the floor, his brother in his arms-

But no ghost appeared.

Rather, the blue-eyed doppelganger that's been following him all this time seems to have disappeared.

She doesn't wish to know what it means- at least not know.

All she can do is crouch beside her friend, a comforting hand rubbing his back.

#bw/bw2 rewrite #drabble #death cw

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badfanfictionaire · 1 year

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Good Vibrations - Chapter 2 “Heroes and Villains”

Eddie Munson didn’t always live in the Forest Shores trailer park with his uncle Wayne. He used to live in a shoebox-sized house on the other side of town with his mom and dad. That was up until he turned eleven and his dad drove off a cliff, killing both of Eddie’s parents in an instant. Edward senior was a mean drunk, and more often than not he took out his anger on his son. There was a handful of times he beat on Sharon, his wife, but Eddie would always intervene and end up getting the shit kicked out of him. Now all Eddie has left as reminders of his parents are a very worn photo album and mild hearing loss on his left side from one too many thwacks on the head.

Moving in with Wayne was a blessing, though it took Eddie a little while to see it like that. Wayne was a man of few words, but he was kind and fair. He never laid a finger on Eddie, never raised his voice unless it was serious, and he always let his nephew make his own choices (no matter how stupid). Eddie stumbled into Forest Shores with nothing but a half-empty duffle bag and a buzzcut, and now, eight years later, he’s got long unruly hair and a surfboard of his own. He looks like he belongs in Hawks Bluff California now, even if he doesn’t always feel like he belongs. There’s a great divide in town between those like Eddie, the rowdy surfer crowd, and the uppity preps who prefer the town pool to the ocean. It doesn’t help Eddie’s reputation any that he’s also into heavy metal, or that he’s on his second go of his senior year. He’s got all the boxes ticked that have him labeled as a loser and freak. But, he has friends, he has his surf club, and he has Wayne. Things aren’t all bad, if he squints at it really hard.

“You gonna eat that?” Max asks, shaking him out of his daydream. She’s pointing at the orange stuck in his lunch sack that he hasn’t touched. Max looks like the Wendy’s logo if she came to life. She’s one of a handful of kids at school that’s an import from elsewhere in the US of A, and she’s also his neighbor. She and her step-brother Billy live across the way from him and Wayne, they showed up from Indiana two years ago and they’ve acclimated well to the Cali lifestyle as far as Eddie can tell.

“All yours Red,” Eddie says, tossing her the orange.

Max scowls at him.

“What’s a matter, Maxine?” Eddie laughs.

Her boyfriend, Lucas, shoots Eddie a dirty look. Eddie teases all of them equally, but Lucas is very protective over his girl. Eddie gets it, if he had a girl of his own he’d probably be the same way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jason Carver and his posse making their way into the cafeteria. Jason’s got one hand clamped around the wrist of his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham, and the other’s clutching his lunch tray. Eddie can’t understand what a beautiful girl like Chrissy sees in an utter shubie like Carver, but he’s not in a position to judge.

“Listen up my gremlins,” Eddie says in a hushed tone, “I hear that tomorrow morning we’re looking at pristine conditions. Who wants to take dawn patrol with me and beat the Bluff’s finest to the waves?”

“Aye aye, captain!” Dustin replies, giving him a salute. Dustin is a freshman, but he’s one of Eddie’s best friends. He’s like the little brother Eddie never had. The kid is adorable, with a puff of brown hair and chubby cheeks. Eddie took him under his wing the minute he started high school, because he knew damn well if someone didn’t look out for him Dustin would end up as fish food.

“Right on,” Eddie grins, “Anyone else?”

The rest of the kids all nod in agreement. Sure, some of them are a bit kookie, but Eddie loved them all dearly. It made his heart swell with pride watching all the kids who had joined Hellfire Surf Club blossom into pretty bitchin’ boarders. At least all of them were legit, unlike Jason’s crew, who could talk the talk but who would fall on their asses if they had to walk the walk. Jason and his cronies were the royalty of the school and the basketball court, but Eddie was king of the sea, and his gremlins were the most rad around. Anyone who dared argue with that statement was sure to get dogged on by the elders of HSC, and that was for sure.

#fanfiction #fanfic #edssy #stranger things #hellcheer #surfer au #eddie munson lives #chrissy cunningham lives #eddie x chrissy

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akire-echo · 2 years

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It’s Simply a Henderson Thing, Season 2 Chapter 2

(Here we go! Another week, another chapter. I’ve been busy rewatching and writing along. Definitely having more fun writing this season)

“Y/N! Check it out!” Dustin jumped from his door, posing in the hallway in his Ghostbusters costume. The ghostbusters overalls were absolutely adorable on him.

You smiled widely at the kid. “Wow Dustin, you look great!”

You remembered taking him to see Ghostbusters in the summer, he and the boys had begged you to go because they needed a chaperone. Your mom thought it would be too scary but after all of you had been through, a movie wasn’t going to freak them out. It hadn’t. The boys had loved it, quoted it all the rest of the summer and for a while afterwards. You thought you’d get annoyed at the constant quotes and re-enactments but it was nice to see them actually having fun again.

“You’re a perfect Stantz!” You praised. “Absolutely perfect.”

He did a turn around. “I even have a proton pack and a ghost trap!”

“That you do. Come on, mom will want to see the completed look before you head to school.”

“You coming trick or treating with us later?”

“I would, kid, but I’ve got a party to head to tonight. But I guarantee to get you some discount Halloween candy tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He smiled and the both of you headed to the living room where your mom waited with a camera.

“Pictures! Pictures!” She exclaimed. “Y/N? Where is your costumes?”

You raised a brow at her. “Yeah, unless you want me half naked dressed as Ripley, I am good in this.”

She couldn’t say much to that, you were the smart but difficult one while Dustin was the excitable and slightly unruly one.

But she was enthusiastically snapping pictures of Dustin in the next moment, eager to get as much out of the camera film as possible.

He, of course, was loving it.

“Ma, he’s gonna be late.” You chided her.

“Just a few more, Y/N.” The camera went off repeatedly.

“Well, I’m headed off. Later Dusty.”

“Later!” He called after you.

———————————————————————

You adjusted your vest and fake blaster as you got to Tina’s house. The party was in full swing by the time you got there, with rowdy teens in costumes drinking whatever they could get their hands on. You off-handedly wondered if Hawkins high resident drug dealer would be in attendance but shook the thought off.

Making your way through the throngs of already inebriated partygoers, you tried to spot Nancy. You hadn’t seen her all day and were desperate to find out how the dinner went the the night before. She hadn’t even returned your phone call.

Instead of Nancy, however, you found the new kid. The damn new kid who immediately rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hey sweetness, who are you supposed to be?” He smirked, clearly already buzzed.

“Take one guess you scruffy looking nerf herder.” You put one hand on your waist.

He looked confused.

“I’m Han Solo.” You sighed.

“Not Leia, Princess?” He asked in reply, rather incredulously too.

You rolled your eyes. “Nah, not really feeling like wearing a white dress and braids. Listen, have you seen Nancy?”

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, she is supposed to be here with Steve.”

“You mean that Steve?” He thumbed over his shoulder.

You followed his motion to see a very angry Steve storming out of the house.

“Shit.” You rushed after him.”Steve! Steve stop-”

“Piss off.” He didn’t even turn to look at you.

“Steve, wait, Jesus Christ!” You caught up to him, tugging on his wrist.

He snapped the grip away.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Why don’t you ask your best friend, she clearly tells you more than me.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Steve, I haven’t even seen Nancy all day. Did something happen with the Holland’s last night?”

“They’re hiring a private investigator and leaving Hawkins.”

“What!?”

“I don’t have time for this, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked away from you.

You were even more confused.

Seeing as how Nancy was probably still in the house, you went back in to try and find her.

The house was still sufficiently packed, so it was rather difficult to move between sweaty dancing bodies and those too inebriated to stand properly.

You did run into Chrissy. She was there with her basketball playing boyfriend, Jason.

She had asked if you wanted to join them but you declined, instead asking her if she’d seen Nancy. Neither of them had so you politely excused yourself, telling them to have fun.

After unsuccessfully trying to find her for half an hour, you decided it would be best to leave. You could’ve stayed, it wasn’t like you didn’t have people to hang out with but you were looking forward to actually spending time with your best friend. Since she was nowhere to be found, you didn’t much feel like sticking around.

You made a stealthy escape, or so you had thought.

The new kid caught you by the door, hand around your forearm.

“Can’t stay away from me, can you?” He smirked, alcohol on his breath.

You groaned internally, not wanting to deal with him at that moment. That’s when you spotted Tommy.

“Find yourself a new best friend here, Tommy boy?” You asked.

The boy sneered. “Billy is cool, unlike some former friends I’ve had.”

“Billy, is it?” You turned back to the guy manhandling you.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Y/N, or do you preferred being called princess?”

You could have gagged. Sure, he was decent looking but his attitude was absolutely abhorrent to you.

“What I would prefer is if you let me go.“

Tommy scoffed a little, coming up to stand by Billy.

“Don’t even bother with her, Billy. No one is good enough for her.”

Billy’s grip tightened on your arm. “See now that just sounds like a challenge.”

You ripped your arm away from him.

“I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt here, seeing as you, one: don't know me, and two: are not quite sober. But I am not interested.” You said as politely as you could.

His smirk faded, instead his jaw clenched. "Told you." Tommy clapped his new friend on the shoulder. "Let's go back inside and find Munson, he's got the good stuff."

Billy said nothing but walked past you into the house.

Seeing your window of opportunity, you got onto your bike and headed out of there, determined to find out what exactly was going on with your best friend.

#reader insert #nancy wheeler #eventual eddiexreader #dustin henderson #stranger things #henderson!reader #billy harringrove

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cosmic-lavender · 2 years

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Dollhouse Chapter 2

Bo Sinclar x Reader (she/her)

18t ONLY. SEE MASTERLIST FOR WARNINGS.

* I do not own these gifs*

*Four years ago*

"Plane number 171 now boarding for New Orleans, Louisiana" the voice above you from the intercom was low and monotonous. This announcer didn't seem keen on being here either. You gripped your water bottle hard, the crackling noise filling the buzzing room with even more noise. You were anxious about the fact that you were going through the same thing as you did when you were a kid, wishing for the best and expecting the worst possible outcome. You didn't know what to expect when you got off the plane. You were shooting in the dark here, something that was entirely out of your character. You loved Louisiana, and you had fond memories here running around in the summertime after fireflies wandering around the french quarter (even though it was at an age that wasn't appropriate). Most locals knew you and your whimsical Aunt Jewel. She lived alone in the outskirts of New Orleans in a small book quaint home that ran along with the River. Your parents had died in a car accident, and although you wish that you could spend 100% of your time here with your aunt Jewel, there was an agreement with the state that you were to spend the school year with your father's uptight side of the family. Your Aunt Jewel was seen as a healer among these growing herbs in her gardening, creating balms and elixirs for those needing assistance. You often wondered if she was a witch, which didn't frighten you at all. It excited you. You wanted to hear about all her adventures in her youth whenever you came over. "Hush, now that's enough stories for today," she would say, waving you off with the wave of her hand. "Les is waiting for ya anyways; go on now.”

Most of the adventures you spent running around with your foster brother Lester Sinclair. You were born here in Louisiana but had moved to New York when you were a pre-teen after the accident. Your great aunt ran a foster care program, so every summer you came to stay, you'd live with the foster care children. The only one you clicked with was Lester. He lived with your aunt for about two years; his two brothers, who were twins, got separated from him, Vincent, who didn't speak much, was sent to a foster home for special needs children. Beauregard, who was said to have a mood disorder, was sent to a home for rowdy and unruly children. You never met the person they would call Bo, but you've heard stories of him being angry and unpredictable. You did meet Vincent for a short moment, and he was sweet and shy with a soft air around him. Your aunt had fought to keep all the children together, but it was impossible due to the unique circumstances. You remember Vincent being quiet and always had something covering his face, whether it be a scarf or a bandage. . You knew that being away from his brothers must be hard on him and made him feel like he was alone with no family, but you hoped that your friendship and his relationship with your aunt helped come you didn't see Lester as a foster brother; you saw him as a family and every night; you all would gather around the dinner table with the other foster children listening to Auntie Jewel's stories.

You'd both often get in trouble for playing in the lake water and collecting animal bones. Tracking in mud and leaves into the house while excitedly showing Jewel the unique treasures you both found. Lester seemed to have a knack for finding dead animals anywhere you went. Of course, this morbid skill would scare the other children, but your aunt found it amusing. "Miss jewel, look what I found!!" Lester had come dashing to where you and jewel were gardening with another one of the foster children. It was a dead squirrel that had been picked clean from the surrounding animals. The rest of the children that were in eyesight screamed and ran away into the house. You just chuckled, and your aunt. Jewel clicked her tongue and chuckled," now, Lester, what did I tell you about running over here and shoving that in people's faces?" "I'm sorry, miss jewel, I was just excited you don't usually see one so preserved; what you think y/n? Cool, huh" "yeah, that's pretty cool, Lester," you replied, which brought a huge smile to his face.

On Saturday, she had taken you both to a taxidermy store; she decided to embrace your newfound hobby with your foster brother. You both found it fascinating how something could remain so life-like after death. You slightly run your hands over one of the displays of all bleached bones and forgotten dead, ripped sewed, and glued before it was made into a design. A beautiful display that even in death, there can be beauty found, new beginnings never thought possible. "Auntie jewel, I want to do something like this one day. Can we make things like that?" You asked, tugging on her skirt and looking up at her with vast curiosity. She chucked and looked down at you. "I'm sure you can do anything you put your mind too little one; I can't wait to see what you come up with. "I can help!" Lester chimed in, tugging along, "I can get the dead animals, so y/n doesn't have to! Then we can clean them, and she can make art and stuff". Auntie jewel smiled. "It sounds like you all little ones have a plan. Make sure you stick to it and stick together," she replied, looking back at the two of you "worlds a big scary place and families all ya got." "you consider me family miss jewel?" Lester piped up. "Course I do, child! You've" been with me longest, and you're y/n best little friend, of course, you're family suga." Auntie Jewell didn't tell both of you that she was planning on adopting both of you. She didn't want you to move back to new york with that family she knew was not very warm and welcoming. She's all happy you were here helping her and her garden and walking with her to the farmer's market, playing with your foster brother, and taking in the warm, humid air. She also knew that Lester had to stay. She had grown to love the little boy, and your relationship was extraordinary. She knew it was good for him and good for you.

You all continued your walk in silence toward the farmer's market. Saturday morning was your favorite time of day. Auntie jewel would take you both there with her every time she gave you both a couple of dollars and let you guys run around to the stands. "Lester, where did you say you're from again? "You asked him, happily licking your ice cream cone walking along with the colorful stands and fun costumes. Jazz music and laughter filled the air around you both." y/n I told you I'm from Ambrose. "Oh yeah," you exclaimed, "I wanna see your town one day"! You said, hopping onto the stone wall that you both had stopped at. Your legs were swinging back and forth as he joined you on the wall. Lester rubbed the back of his head; he let out a puff of air and stayed silent for a moment. "I don't know about that; it's not the best place to be." He lately kicked out some dirt on the ground sticking his hand in his pocket and not looking at you. "Les, hey" You walked around to stand in front of him and lightly touched his face to make him look at you. "Anywhere you're from, I feel it has to be wonderful because you're wonderful. I'd love to see it someday; promise me you'll show me one day" a large smile crept across your face as you fixated on him, waiting for his reply. "Oh gosh," his face also started to form into a smile, "Yeah, okay, I'll show you one day. I hope you can get to know my brothers someday, too. They would love you!" "Tell me about your brothers again," You said, taking another bite of your ice cream

"Well," he sucked in a bit of air and then blew it out. "Well, you met Vinny, and what you saw is pretty much what you get. He's reticent. He's timid. He's always been good at drawing, though, but he never did anything with it. Did I tell you my parents used to run the old house of wax museum That was an Ambrose?" "You did briefly, yeah" "yeah, well Vinny would help all the time learning how to mix the wax just like mama did; Bo never help, so he was always thinking around with things taking it apart just to see how they work. He's good with his hands too in other ways, but he had a wicked temper". Lester's voice trailed off a bit; you could tell he missed his brothers. "Mom was so mean to Bo. I mean, he was always so angry, but she used to tie him to his high chair so tight it would cut into his wrists". "Oh my stars, that's horrible"! You hopped down from the stonewall to look at Lester. "I'm so sorry all of you had to see that I hope wherever Bo is now, he's doing better Hopefully, someday I can meet him and get to know Vinny!" He smiled at you, his eyes brightening up from their previous melancholy disposal "yeah I would like that I would like for all us to be together someday I mean you're my sister now so you'd fit right in." You both happily skipped back to find your aunt, This time walking in silence but a newfound era of understanding. Lester had been through a lot, but it was apparent that he found a place of solitude with you and your aunt, and you found a place of belonging with him and your aunt too.

You had taken up an interest in assisting your aunt with her jewelry and trinket that she made for the farmer's markets. Still, soon you and Lester began your own little creative business finding animal skulls and bleaching them, and making art out of them. Jewel, of course, oversaw any kind of use with the chemicals but allowed both of you to be the headliners in the creative process. This became one of your favorite pastimes finding exciting rocks and other things to decorate on your art with Lester. He was less cringed about the grossness part and would usually find roadkill for you to use excitedly, grabbing it with his tiny little gloves that you're aunt insisted he wears, although if it were up to him, he would just hold them by his hand. He would come running with the animal or skull object, an excited grin on his face slapping it down onto your little workbench in the garage. Who would have thought such a morbid interest would draw everyone together? Your aunt Jewel had walked into the room and saw both of you excitedly hot-gluing jewels and different flowers onto the skull, which she assumed was a squirrel. She decided that this was the time to tell both of you that you could stay here permanently if you wanted.

You had opened up to her recently about how your family in New York was becoming borderline abusive. You let her know how they would lock you away in the attic whenever you say anything embarrassing in front of their high-end Richie friends. You didn't like it there, and you didn't belong there. When you finally told her everything that happened every time you went back there, she felt the hot intense rage and urge to fly her little southern self to the big apple and rip their throat out, but she knew that wasn't the way. She had to do this legally to get you away from them. Wiping her hands on her apron, she called to both of you over to the kitchen table. She excitedly informed both of you about the process that was starting to adopt you if you both were interested. You both let out a large gasp and ran to hug her. It seemed too good to be true; finally, you would never have a teary-eyed goodbye at the airport when it was nice to leave. And never again would you have to count down the days to when you could return to your home. It was the most fantastic news you both have ever heard in a long time. "Oh, Auntie jewel, I'm so happy," you exclaimed, running to hug her tight, while Lester soon followed. This seemed like the perfect situation. Soon you would be legally adopted, and you would be living here in this beautiful magical, hauntingly beautiful place with your brother and your aunt.

But as life would have it, tragedy struck; while away back at New York City on one of your scheduled visitations, you patiently waited for the news that you could permanently pack your bags and go back to Louisiana. You had a particularly terrible day at school. The kids were ruthlessly picking on you and making fun of you after one of your skeleton sculptures fell out of your backpack. You weren't exactly popular with any of the kids, to begin with, but this is further ostracized you from the rest of the group; going back home to the family who treated you like an outcast didn't help your mood. The only solace you had was knowing that eventually, you would be able to leave here forever. That wasn't until you got the phone call. The phone called and made the room spin, and your vision became blurry. Your stomach seemed to crawl into your neck, and your mouth became dry. It was like someone on the other line was speaking some language you had never heard. You couldn't comprehend it. Your Aunt Jewel has suffered a heart attack and was dead. Your dream was shattered, you were 17 years old, and your life would change drastically in the next four years.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair smut #house of wax

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Note

This is probably annoying but I wanted to ask what is your take on Bruce kind of twisting Jason’s stint as robin and using it as a cautionary tale for the rest of the bats. I just went through a bunch of your tags and I wanted to ask because I didn’t see it mentioned. How do you think it changed their relationship with him? Even the ones that already knew him

hey babe. nope, can’t say i’ve ever written anything about that but here’s sorta my personal take on it.

first off, maybe this is just me but in canon, i haven’t seen many examples of bruce turning jason into a cautionary tale? there have been times of course but mostly people are warded off from the way bruce acts. his overprotectiveness, rage if someone doesn’t follow his directions, the suit he keeps in the cave. he never really tells tim or steph or damian about jason as a nightmare story, but is (probably unknowingly) traumatized and showing it just enough for the kids to connect the dots.

(there may be one or two times when bruce tells the rest of the bats about jason as, you said, a cautionary tale in canon. if there is then i haven’t come across it yet but there very well may be)

but lets say bruce does tell the rest of the kids about robin as a cautionary tale.

i think jason would be furious. because bruce is taking the entirety of the relationship he and jason had and turning it into a bad bedtime story. jason was bruce’s son. bruce took care of him and taught him and loved him. sure, out of all his kids, bruce raised dick the most normally. but bruce and jason were still close, extremely so. for bruce to rip out all of that history and trust the two of them had and only focus on the few times jason acted out as robin (and believe me, it was really only a couple times), and use it to say, “this is what happens when robin doesn’t listen. robin gets brutally murdered. don’t be like the last robin,” is just horrible of him.

and this would definitely colour the impression of jason that everyone whose never met him has. by bruce only telling them about everything jason did wrong, bruce has built up this image of an unruly, rowdy robin who only listened to bruce when it was convenient for him and whose blasé attitude got himself and other people hurt. if that’s what you’ve been told about a person, of course you’re not going to be quick to trust him or get to know him. he’s painted as a pretty bad person, not someone who was generally quiet, liked school, and only acted out when he started feeling safe with bruce and alfred, when he’s no longer in survival mode, and was able to properly grieve for his mother for the first time in his life.

but i just,,,,don’t believe bruce would ever do that. bruce before jason died was a much more lighthearted person, though he’d grown darker as dick grew up and as gotham got worse and worse. it’s in character for him to take all the good memories he had with jason and shove them into the back of his brain so he could protect them and keep them for himself. and this may visibly only show the bad parts of jason, ones that can be twisted into a cautionary tale. but i don’t think he would ever tell the other bats, on purpose, everything jason did wrong and why they should take notes from it. it’s disrespectful to both jason’s memory and jason’s skill.

then again. this was the man who, in order to keep jason’s death from hurting as much as it should have, created a plaque that said “a good soldier” and tried to make himself think of jason as a soldier, not a son. bruce is a complex person babe he’s very difficult to write lol.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #red hood #robin #batman #dc

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feelyourhearttakingroot · 3 years

Text

The Reader's Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm...

Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that...

Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.

Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.

Read on AO3.

Chapter One

The Fight

“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair's breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.

“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”

“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”

Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight.

Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.

“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.

“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”

“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”

“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”

“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dina called.

“To get another drink.”

Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over.

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

Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke.

Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.

Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate.

The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.

It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -

“Dee!”

Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.

“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”

“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”

Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right.

His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you.

What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?

“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.

“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe?

You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy.

Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.

“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.

The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.

The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”

Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:

“And I am so fucking yours.”

So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.

“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”

Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.

You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”

The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.

Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.

“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

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

The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behind you.

As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-

It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.

“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “... a creep.” you finished lamely.

When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.

He knew. He damn well knew.

Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.

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

Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.

The single empty chair.

Fucks sake.

Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass.

You’re fucking kidding me.

You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.

You’re fucking kidding me.

Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them.

He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.

Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.

But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.

Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

Forward and back. Forward and back.

This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.

Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.

Fuck off, you mouthed.

You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was -

As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.

For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.

Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.

Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.

Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t -

A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently -

Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh.

“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit.

“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.

The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.

“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”

You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.

A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup.

“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”

“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”

Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?

Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.

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

“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.”

“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”

His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down.

“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”

A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.

“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer.

“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”

“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”

“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”

A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly.

“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”

The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.”

Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer.

“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”

He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.

“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”

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

As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.

When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.

It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably.

A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn't go down too well anyway.

A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.

Benny was here.

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

Ringside seats were… certainly something.

The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch.

Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.

The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.

It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging.

You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.

Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him.

As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost.

“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.

“You see that?”

Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape.

“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.

“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”

He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and -

Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -

“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.

===> Chapter Two

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #fic #santiago garcia x ofc #benny miller x ofc #The Reader’s Guide to Avoiding Redfly #trgtar

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nicknellie · 3 years

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@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

19. Summer Camp AU

73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather

I haven't seen a summer camp AU and now I'm OBSESSED WITH THE CONCEPT

Just gonna preface this with the fact that I am currently working as an on campus RA and I kind of got the idea from that....

19. Summer Camp AU

73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather

Okay, so I wanna start this off in kind of a cute way. So when you were in highschool, there was the summer camp that you would go to every year. At the summer camp you had fun, but you had trouble with making friends, always tending to stick to the back of the group, not really wanting to deal with the drama floating around and the over all rowdy-ness of the kids your age. There at the back of the group was always another boy, who kept to himself, and never really interacted with people. It took you your second summer there, to finally introduce yourself to him, and after that you and Din Djarin became close friends. The two of you were practically glued together, never going anywhere without the other, unless it was time to go to your cabins at night. Din was sweet and kind to you, and over the years you found yourself crushing on the boy, but not doing anything because you didn't want to loose him as a friend. Then, your last day, or your last summer at the camp, Din grabbed your hand and placed his necklace he was always wearing in your hand, the one with the 'mudhorn signet' as he had called it, saying, "I...I....I want you to have this, to, um, well so you don't forget about me...." You flipped out and looked at him sad and panicking saying that you didn't have anything for him in return. He had only replied saying he didn't need anything to remember you, but last minute, still panicking and thinking that this might be the last time you see him, you reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. It was short and sweet and you didn't want to pull away but you had too. After that day, you wore his necklaces religiously, everyday, and swore you would see him again. But the days, months, years passed and before you knew it you were fully an adult. Stressed, you take a vacation from your pointless job to go and visit your home town, and your parents. One morning while you were there your dad made an off hand comment about your old summer camp needing chaperones and helpers, and you immediately jumped at the chance, sending in your application. A week letter you received a letter saying that you got the job and that you needed to come to the camp sight next week to help set up for the summer. Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were walking along the old summer camp feeling nostalgic and happy. The place looked the exact same, the main building/cafeteria was still in the middle of the property, surrounded by several cabins, in the back there was a volleyball pit and some rope swings, and behind those was the glittering deep blue lake. Smiling while reminiscing on old times, you walked into the main building. Inside, you found a man with his back to you talking to another woman. As you got closer you couldn't take your eyes off the man, he had an air of familiarity about him, his wide shoulders, narrow waist (and nice ass, not that you were looking at it....), and dark and unruly curl hair. When you got up next to him, he had finished speaking with the woman and you softly cleared your throat saying, "Excuse, this is my first year working here, could you point me to what I need to be doing?" Then the man was turning around, and the first thing you noticed was his cute and patchy facial hair as well as his arms you previously had thought were crossed were holding a young toddler. When you finally looked up to meet the man's eyes you were immediately thrown into the past, seeing the rich deep brown that held nothing but kindness, and at the same time the two of you said eachother's names. You said it more surprised, while Din whispered your name shocked and with a touch of disbelief. Unconsciously you reached up for the necklace that he had given to you years before, while saying, "Maker Din, i swear you have grown a whole other foot since I seen you last." Sheepishly, with a light dusting of pink falling across his cheeks, Din said, "Well..you..you have grown so much prettier..." Then immediately after his eyes widened and he rushed out, "Wait no, I, uh, didn't mean it like that, I just meant..." You just

giggled at him and said, "I see you are still great with words Din." The rest of the day passed quickly, the two of you setting up and talking about whats happened since you last saw the other. You found out that Din had been working at the camp since he was old enough to apply, and to the point that he was the head of the camp, practically running the place by himself, besides the owner. And when he explained that the young toddler, whose name is Grogu, he had adopted, he wasn't his biologically, never having been in a long committed relationship, well you were more relieved than you should have been. After the kids showed up and things picked up for the summer, the two of you worked as pretty much the perfect team. Din was good with the kids, always coming up with and doing activities that had all the kids joining in and having fun. While you were great with talking with the kids, and sorting through any problems or teenage drama. You often found Grogu following you around with smiles, as he came to you for attention when he felt his father wasn't giving him enough, by his little standards. Whenever your were playing with or spoiling the little child, you tended to feel like someone was watching you but you often brushed it off. All together the summer passed with little problem, but lots of tension that slowly built over over time between you and Din. The last day was spent in pretty much chaos as throughout the day parents came and picked up their kids, and by the time it was getting dark the last kid was leaving and you were exhausted and just ready to sleep. The next day was spent cleaning up the buildings and most of the staff leaving, until it was only you, Din, and Grogu. Grogu had been getting fussy as Din was finishing putting away some heavier boxes, so you had taken the child and put him down for a nap. Shortly after the child fell asleep, Din sneaked into the staff cabin you both had been staying at, whispering, "We should be heading out, that large thunderstorm is rolling in faster than what was predicted. Do you need help carr-" Mid sentence Din stopped talking, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, you saw him reach forward brushing his thumb of the necklace that was no longer tucked into your shirt. You had been hiding it the entire summer, not brave enough to bring up that final day together years ago. But now Din softly brushed his thumb back and forth over the necklace, before whispering, "You actually kept it?" "Of course I did, I have worn it everyday since." Then he met your eyes, and looked down at your lips for a second, before leaning in slowly so you could pull away if you wanted, then his lips crashed with your own and you were tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling you closer. After that one thing led to another, and you both had ended up sleeping together, going at it multiple times before completely falling asleep tangled together for the night. After an hour of peaceful sleeping you both were jolted awake by the a loud crack of thunder. Looking at eachother you both said, "Shit" before jumping apart and scrambling to get dressed. In your little tryst, the two of you had completely forgotten about the storm. And now, Din was running to get his crying son, as you peaked out the window. The storm outside was raging so hard that you couldn't even see the next cabin over, the wind was howling and you could hear branches snapping and trees growing from the amount of wind. Turning around you looked at Din when he entered the room and said, "We aren't leaving anytime soon. If I remember correctly this story is supposed to last for a day or so. So we better hunker down?" Din sighed and nodded, passing Grogu to you and saying that he was going to go whip something up for dinner. The weather just progressively continued to get worse and worse, at one point the small cabin lost power and Din went around lighting any candles he could find, and dragging every blanket and pillow into the living area so you all could sleep together. By the time the frightened child finally fell asleep again, you

and Din were all but exhausted and worried. But you had to admit that falling asleep in his arms right there in the middle of that living room was something you wanted to happen more often, if not forever.

Send me an AU or two??

#just wanna say that i did write this once and tumblr decided to delete it instead of saving it to my drafts #love that #this is probably all over the place #and a little too hallmark-y #but oh well enjoy #summer camp au #stranded due to inclement weather au #din djarin x reader #din x reader

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daveyjacobss · 4 years

Text

something utterly divine

racetrack higgins x reader

summary: it’s safe to say that when y/n l/n volunteered to help the nuns she certainly wasn’t expecting this outcome. (or, in which racetrack higgins and y/n l/n find something utterly divine amongst the dirty, broken down streets of new york city)

a/n: uhhhh hi i know i haven’t posted any fics in like a year but please take this 11k word long fic as my heartfelt apology, i guess? i really hope you guys like it!! and, as always, please feel free to come tell me what you thought of it :)

masterlist

__________

New York city broke Y/N’s heart. Every day she would walk by kids out on the street, unnaturally thin with sunken in eyes that made them resemble a corpse more than a child — and the kind of dirty that would take at least three baths to wash away. The wealthy strut the streets with their noses upturned and their heads held high, refusing to look at the kids they considered vermin. Y/N never wanted any of them to think she was like that, but she could hardly bear to look at them half the time without tearing up or feeling a sudden rush of sickness.

Her family wasn’t wealthy enough to just be handing out money in order to help those in need, but she was desperate to help in any way she could. That was why she had approached the nuns in the first place, she knew that they aided in providing food — and sometimes even shelter — for the kids of New York and had wanted to offer her own services. She had been received kindly by the nuns and they praised her for her initiative, making her bashful. Though she was eager to help, she was remarkably shy around the nuns when she started out (partly because more than a few of them seemed to think that her helping them meant she had intentions to become a nun herself, which was far from the truth). Over time, though, the older women managed to bring her out of her shell and she grew more and more comfortable around them. She was only a messenger when she started out, really, passing notes between churches and reminders between nuns rather than doing any real hands on work (despite her insistence that she was perfectly capable). For some reason she could not for the life of her discern, the nuns never let her join them on their outings where they actually interacted with the people of the city. She grumbled about it often, and though they indulged her complaining their responses were only ever lines about keeping her out of harm's way and looks exchanged between each other that Y/N didn’t know how to decipher.

It was an early morning in March when she was asked to take a message to one of her favorite nuns, Mary, as quickly as possible at her post on one the wagons that they took out each day to distribute food to the children of the streets. Despite the fog that was hanging over the city, draining it of all its color, and the cold breeze that danced it’s way into her skirt, her heart could not be held down as it bounced around her chest in nervousness. She’d never been given the chance to truly see the nuns at work with any of the people they helped, and even though she wouldn’t be playing much of a role in that part, she would finally be at the scene.

It didn’t take much time to find the location of the wagon, the crowd of kids that surrounded it making it easy to spot even from a few blocks away. When she was given the message to deliver she hadn’t been told who exactly Sister Mary was handing out food to that day, but as she drew nearer it was clear that the crowd was made up primarily of newsies. She felt the nerves buzzing around in her body amp up in volume as she made her way around the crowd. Yes, she wanted to help and yes, she was getting better at not flinching away from street kids because of how her heart clenched at the sight of them, but a large crowd made up of mostly boys (some around her age and some even older) would always intimidate her no matter who was in it.

Skirting around the edge of the crowd, she reached the wagon easily. Mary, luckily, was standing on the ground beside it handing some bread to a young boy whose face was smeared with dirt. Y/N smiled kindly at him as she approached and he nodded in her direction with a maturity that was far beyond his years.

“They’re finally letting you out into the world, are they?” Sister Mary asked, grinning widely as Y/N walked up. She laughed slightly, coming to stand next to the nun and look out over the crowd.

“Only to come give you a message.” Mary pouted sympathetically at her.

“One day they’ll let you actually join us out here, don’t you worry about that. You’ve got at least one of us on your side.” She winked and Y/N laughed again. Sister Mary had always been one of her favorites because she was remarkably more lighthearted than most of her sisters, always ready to crack a joke. That, and she had taken Y/N under her wing immediately after meeting her.

“You know I always appreciate you standing up for me.” She kept the light tone in her voice, but there was genuine gratefulness in her eyes and Mary reached over to squeeze her hand.

“Now, what was that message you had for me?”

Y/N relayed the message that Sister Anna had given her, taking care to make sure she got each and every detail right. Mary nodded along in concentration as she listened, going to speak quickly with one of the other nuns present after Y/N had finished. Waiting for her to come back, Y/N took the time to gaze out into the crowd, letting her eyes glide over the faces of all the boys and girls who came for a quick bite that would most likely have to last them the whole day.

Her gaze was instantly drawn to a few boys near the front, louder than those around them as they talked and joked around with each other. One of them was wearing glasses perched atop his nose, and he was poking fun at one of the others with him, a boy sporting dirtied red hair underneath his cap, about him smelling bad. He was making a show of it, using his fingers to pinch to his nose and his other hand to wave away the air in front of him. A few of the other kids with him laughed at the antics and Y/N found herself letting out a quiet chuckle under her breath. The redhead rolled his eyes and responded in kind with a quip about his friend’s snoring, and Y/N smiled at how comfortable and playful they all seemed to be with each other.

It wasn’t until another boy with them started talking that she felt the air leave her lungs. She didn’t even really register what he was saying, only moved her gaze to find the source of the voice and froze upon seeing him. He looked to be about her age with unruly blonde curls peeking out from under his hat and an unlit cigar hanging out of his mouth. He was saying something that made all of the boys around him roar with laughter, lips moving around his cigar, but she couldn’t hear him — not with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her eyes followed his every movement. There was no other way to put it: he was breathtakingly beautiful. He was the kind of boy she imagined heroines in her mother’s romance novels she sometimes read fell in love with at first sight, the kind of beautiful that could turn a sensible girl with no prior interest in romance into a bumbling mess.

“Oh dear,” she heard Mary whisper from beside her, startling her out of the trance the beautiful blonde boy had put her in. Mary’s eyes were trained on her with an eyebrow raised and a small, knowing smile on her face.

“Were you...” Y/N started, having to pause to take a breath. “Were you saying something?”

“No darling, only thinking something,” Mary reassured her, patting her arm gently. “If I’m not mistaken, I think you’ve fallen victim to one of the main reasons my sisters never wanted to bring you to one of these outings.” Y/N felt her face warm at Sister Mary’s words, hands grabbing at her skirt simply so she would have something to do with them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” she said, but even as her voice came out she could hear how breathless and high pitched she sounded. Mary practically snorted, moving so that she was facing the newsies instead of Y/N.

“So, which one was it?” She asked. Y/N sighed, knowing that there was no point in denying it. As subtly as she could, she pointed toward the boy that had caught her attention.

“That one there, with the blonde hair.”

Mary gave a surprised huff of laughter, her eyes turning toward the heavens. Y/N swore she could see her lips moving slightly, uttering a silent prayer.

“Oh my darling Y/N,” she said in a breathy, amused tone. “What on earth are we going to do with you?” Y/N tilted her head in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows at Sister Mary.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her grip on her skirt tightening out of anxiety. “It’s only a silly bout of infatuation, nothing that needs to be prayed over.” By then, the crowd was beginning to disperse as the newsies headed out for a day of selling. The other two nuns that had been with Mary were packing up all of their things and prepping the wagon to return to the church. Mary took a look around, glancing specifically at her sisters, before she answered.

“The boy in questions is a bit of a flirt,” she explained with a teasing smile on her face. “And he’s certainly one of the more, shall we say, rowdy newsies. I’ve no problem with you fancying him a bit, of course, but the others would have a fit. Especially if you decided to pursue the infatuation.” Y/N felt heat rush to her face as her eyes widened.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t pursue it, of course.” Her words came out quickly, all running into one another. The look on Mary’s face made it clear just how much faith she had in Y/N’s reassurance. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’d be much too shy to ever approach him.” She swatted Mary’s arm and the nun laughed again. She began to walk back toward the wagon, talking over her shoulder as she did.

“Of course you wouldn’t, dear. Just make sure you keep any fantasies and fascinations to yourself.” She winked one last time before her sisters helped her back into the wagon and they headed in the direction of the church. Y/N waved goodbye at them, all the while feeling the embarrassment at Sister Mary’s words curling up and knotting itself in her stomach.

On her way back home she stopped at the market to buy some food on her mother’s shopping list and, after second guessing herself, to buy a newspaper from a newsie situated near her house with a crutch under his arm and a warm smile on his face. The entire time she managed to keep her thoughts in check, and the blonde newsboy barely occurred to her for the rest of the day. It was only when she was lying in bed that night that she thought of him again, picturing the curve of his smile and wondering if she would ever get to see him up close so that she could find out the color of his eyes. She fantasized a storyline worthy of one of her mother’s books where they met in secret in the dead of night, and he came to her window like Romeo calling up to his Juliet.

But when she woke in the morning the fantasies were but distant memories, and she had much too busy a day to spend time dwelling on a boy she didn’t know. The blonde newsie was gone from her head.

It was only a week later that Sister Mary informed her with a sly smile that she had finally convinced the other nuns to let Y/N accompany her and Sister Margaret on the wagon the next morning. Y/N was alight with excitement and anxiety for the entire day after hearing the news, buzzing with energy. She was finally getting to do what she had always intended when she first volunteered herself to help the nuns.

She hadn’t thought about the blonde newsie for days, but as she struggled to sleep in the flurry of all of her jitters she wondered if she might catch a glimpse of him again.

__________

Racetrack Higgins was not particularly known for his manners. He was loud and boisterous and he preferred a good laugh to tame, pleasant conversation. It wasn’t like he ever had much of a choice in the matter, kids on the street had to toughen up and learn how to fend for themselves — and for those like Race that happened in the form of quick jokes and mindless flirting to keep things from getting too serious. He was always there to cheer up his friends, and always ready to throw out a compliment and a wink to the pretty girls that bought his papes. “Serious” was barely a word in his vocabulary, and everyone who knew him knew it.

That chilly March morning was no different from any other day. Race was weaving his way through the crowd of newsies as they all headed to the wagons, ripples of laughter following him as the boys realized why exactly he was running. Mush’s hat was clenched in his hand and Mush wasn’t too far behind him, shouting in annoyance at Race to give him his hat back. As he flew past Albert he heard his friend let out a hoot and a laugh, cheering him on. Race smiled. The feeling of the brisk morning air hitting his face as he ran, his brothers’ laughter surrounding him with every step, the promise of food and a good headline on the horizon — this was the feeling he lived for, the kind of thing that made the hungry days and the cold nights bearable. He never felt more free than when he was messing around with the other newsies, and he basked in his ability to elicit their laughter. If he had nothing else — no money, no food, no place to sleep — he would always have the newsies and their laughter. And that made it all worthwhile.

He slowed to a stop closer to the wagon, laughing around his cigar as he panted from the exhilaration. Mush caught up to him quickly once he stopped running, snatching his hat from Race’s hands and flicking him in the back of the head. The action only made Race laugh again, throwing an arm around Mush’s shoulders and leading them both toward the wagon where the nuns were already beginning to hand out food to the newsies who had made their way to the front of the crowd.

“Well, ‘m definitely more awake now than I was ten minutes ago,” Mush grumbled. A huff of laughter came from behind them, and Race turned to see Jack and Crutchie walking up to them.

“Can’t help yourself, can ya Racer?” Jack asked with a broad grin. Race smiled back, raising his arms in a mock shrug.

“What can I say? ‘S in my nature.”

“Here I was thinkin’ we called you Racetrack because of all the bettin’,” Crutchie chimed in. “And this whole time it’s ‘cause you run faster than any of the horses.” Race and Mush both laughed loudly at that while Jack shook his head at them all with a quiet chuckle. As they kept walking to the wagon Albert and Specs caught up with them, debating about what the day’s headline would be. They were mere feet away when Race finally looked up at the nuns who were handing out the food that day.

The world seemed to slow down around him. Running through the crowd of newsies had been a rush, and it had felt as if the world had been spinning around him, but all at once it seemed to stop turning altogether. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a nun. She wasn’t dressed like them, and she looked closer to Race’s age than theirs. Mush was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Her hair was pinned to keep it out of her face, and her smile was kind as she handed Buttons his food.

Someone gave him a small push from behind, and as he stumbled the world returned to its normal state. The push seemed to have shocked him out of whatever spell she had put him under, but now that everything was moving at a normal speed he was achingly aware of how he was only seconds away from being right in front of her. Quickly, he scrambled to straighten his hat on his head and brush his curls out of his face, plucking his cigar from his mouth and tucking it into his pocket. He could feel the boys looking at him strangely but he ignored them in favor of roughly wiping at his face in hopes of getting rid of any dirt. He gulped as he took the last step between them, looking up at her where she was perched on the wagon.

She wasn’t looking at him, turned around to grab some of the food they had stashed in there. When she did finally turn to face him, bread in hand, he could feel it happening again — the world moving around him in slow motion. She seemed to startle at the sight of him but he couldn’t guess at why. She had been serving newsboys all morning, what made him worth startling over? (He had an answer in mind, but it felt all too conceited to consider it fact.) He could feel himself beginning to smile at her, his lips moved by a force beyond his will. She turned her face away from him in a quick, jerky motion as he did, and he could feel his heart start to fall in his chest, disappointment setting in. She held out the bread without looking at him, and when he reached up to take it his hand brushed against hers.

Once, when Race had gone to swat Albert’s hand away from his cigar, he had felt a small shock between them. Davey had said it was called static electricity, and though he had tried to explain it further Race hadn’t understood a word he’d said. His hand brushing against the girl’s felt like that small shock of static electricity a million times over. It sent a buzzing, tingling feeling through his veins, spreading from the point his skin had met hers. A part of him wanted to grab at her hand, to hold it in his and ask if she felt the sparks mingling between their fingertips. But the touch only lasted for a second before she was pulling her hand back and he was stepping away with bread in hand. The buzzing, however, lingered. He felt like what Crutchie had said was actually true, that if he was out there on the tracks he could outrun any horse. He wasn’t sure his heart rate had ever been faster.

The world, which had not only slowed but had evidently disappeared around him, gradually came back into focus. The boys were joining him where he stood off to the side, savoring the food they’d been given. Specs looked at him with an all too knowing smile.

“So, what was that about?” He asked, his head tilting back to gesture toward the wagon where the girl still stood, continuing to distribute food to the remaining newsies. The rest of his friends asked similar questions, prodding at him teasingly, but he still felt a little too much like he’d had the wind knocked out of him to even try to answer.

“Looks like Racer’s got a lil’ crush,” Jack laughed, playfully hitting Race’s arm.

“Too bad she didn’t seem all that interested,” Mush snorted, definitely taking too much joy in the girls lack of reciprocation (though Race supposed that was fair since he had stolen his hat only 15 or so minutes before).

When Race could finally gather himself enough to speak, he said: “She’s just a pretty face, ‘s all. Nothing to get anybody’s panties in a twist about.” The boys laughed, like they always did. And they all went about their day, selling their papers and retiring to the lodge in the evening.

But the buzzing feeling persisted. All day he felt as if his fingers where he had touched her were disconnected from his body. He kept quiet about it, continuing on with his jokes like the morning interaction had been nothing but a footnote in his day. But for the first time, he wished no one was laughing.

________

Y/N had felt like she couldn’t breathe for practically two days straight. All she saw when she closed her eyes was that blonde newsboy and his brilliant blue eyes (because she’d been close enough to see his eyes that time, and they were gorgeous) as he started to smile

up at her. And every time she thought she could put it behind her she remembered the soft brush of his fingertips against hers as she handed him his food. She’d been too embarrassed to look him in the eye, but in the split seconds that they had touched, her heart in her throat, her own hand had memorized the feeling of his fingers — and now it felt like his fingerprints were burned into her skin. She could have gone blind, but she would have known him by the touch of his fingertips against hers.

She dreamt of him two nights in a row, of his half smile and his bright blue eyes alight with laughter. She’d never felt anything like it before, any other infatuations she had endured had come and gone rather quickly and rarely found their way into her dreams. Swallowing down her pride and embarrassment, she figured that was reason enough to approach Mary and ask about the blonde newsboy that seemed to have sunken his fingers into her heart without any chance for her to stop him.

It was easy to tell when she arrived at the monastery the next day that Sister Margaret, who had been with her and Sister Mary that day, had spread the word of her small encounter with the newsboy. Mary must have pitched in with the storytelling, too, with the way some of the nuns were looking at Y/N. Her face began to feel warm and she sped up her pace, ducking her head to avoid any of their gazes. Some of them were disapproving, others teasing, and she didn’t know which was worse. One look, which she received from Sister Anna when she was just steps away from Mary’s quarters, was pitying, and it puzzled her.

When she finally entered Mary’s room she looked at Y/N like she knew exactly why she was there, and it made Y/N sigh in exasperation before plopping herself down on the nun’s bed with a frown.

“Will you just tell me his name?” She finally spoke after a bout of weighted silence, her voice soft even in the quiet between them. Mary chuckled, Y/N’s frown deepened.

“They call him Racetrack,” she began to explain. “Or just Race, and one time I heard someone call him Racer.”

“Is he a runner?” Y/N asked, turning her head to look at Mary with confusion in her features.

“Not to my knowledge, no. They call him that because of how much time he spends down by the racetracks, spending his money on the horses.” Y/N absorbed the new information, allowing it to settle in.

“So he’s a gambler.” Mary nodded in confirmation. “Is he a good one?” Mary laughed again.

“Now that one I don’t know the answer to, but...” She trailed off and from the way her tone switched Y/N could tell before she even began to speak again that she wasn’t going to like what came out of her mouth. “My sisters want to make sure that you know that this boy of yours,” — Y/N wanted to protest that he wasn’t hers, but she kept quiet — “he’s a bit of a wildcard, and definitely a flirt. He wouldn’t be the kind of gentleman you’re used to.”

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath. To be truthful, she’d already been expecting that. This boy would have led a very different life than her, and it wasn’t hard to tell from looking at him that he was very different from the boys she had encountered throughout her life. The gambling aspect was certainly new, but the more she considered it the less it seemed like that big of a deal. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that, just maybe, him coming from such a different walk of life was part of the appeal — part of the thrill.

She ended up staying for dinner with the nuns, enduring countless comments on her supposed “relationship” with the newsboy. From the way some of them spoke about it she couldn’t tell whether they thought she was actually already seeing him or if they were aware she’d only encountered him twice and had never spoken a word to him. Sister Anna was unusually quiet until after dinner, when she pulled Y/N aside to give her an incredibly vague warning about not falling for any tricks the boy might try to pull on her. Though her heart protested, she listened carefully to Anna and made sure to repeat her words back to herself as she walked home. No matter how much her heart fluttered when she thought of him, she still didn’t know the newsboy at all and she certainly wasn’t planning to let him pull a fast one on her if she ever did see him again.

__________

One week later Mary asked Y/N to accompany her on an errand. She was delivering a message to a shop owner down near Brooklyn and wanted company on her walk, Y/N being her apparent first choice. By then it was April and it was raining often, they had even had to delay the errand for a day in order to avoid a downpour that had lasted from sunrise to sunset. Y/N couldn’t help but think of the newsies whenever she saw that it was raining, finding herself hoping they were somewhere dry and warm and that the rain didn’t steal too many of their sales. She hadn’t gone with the nuns to help hand out food since that first time, so she hadn’t seen the blonde newsboy since then, but he remained in her mind.

The sun was shining for the first time in days as Mary and Y/N began their walk, laughing about a dreadful joke Sister June had tried to tell the day before with little luck. A little voice in the back of her mind wondered why Mary had brought Y/N with her rather than one of her sisters, but she wrote it off as Mary preferring company that wasn’t as stiff as many of the nuns tended to be. It was only while Mary was speaking with the shopkeeper they’d come to see that Y/N realized exactly why she’d been brought along.

Standing just a bit away from the store, which Y/N was waiting in front of, was the blonde newsboy. He was holding up his newspapers and calling out ridiculous headlines that Y/N was sure weren’t true, but people kept approaching him to buy them anyway. The change she had brought with her felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket and she glanced warily back at the shop, looking through the window to see Mary still speaking with the man behind the counter. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to move in the direction of the newsie.

He was facing away from her, so even when she got closer he didn’t see her. Nervously, she cleared her throat before speaking up. “Excuse me?” She called out. He turned to find where her voice had come from and she felt the world go quiet as his eyes met hers. The downpour could have come back then and there and she was certain she wouldn’t have noticed, too enraptured by his eyes and the way his mouth hung slightly open, his cigar looking as though it might fall to the ground. He seemed to quickly regain his previous stature, his hand reaching up to straighten his hat, she presumed, until he pulled it clean off his head and held it to his chest as he bowed slightly before her.

“Afternoon, darlin’” He spoke, and her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, her face warming at the pet name. He situated his hat back on his head before he continued to talk. “What can I do for ya?” There was a moment of silence where she tried to gather herself enough to get out a coherent sentence, entirely disarmed by the fact that the boy she’d been dreamily fantasizing about was standing right in front of her.

“What’s the headline today?” She finally asked, her voice a little bit shaky. She stayed rooted in place (unsure if she could get her feet to move even if she wanted to), but after hearing her speak again he took a small step toward her. She could hear warning alarms going off in her head as she did, but she hadn’t the faintest idea what they were warning of because not a single intelligible thought made its way to the front of her head other than the fact that he was smiling at her like an old friend of hers used to smile at girls before he flirted with them. The warning alarms got louder and oh, maybe they weren’t warning alarms, maybe that was just the sound of her blood rushing and her heart pounding in her chest faster than it ever had before.

“The headline?” He asked in confirmation, smile widening as he ducked his head slightly, sending his boyish attractiveness off the charts. “Why, that’d be: prettiest goil in new york makes newsie’s day.” He winked at her and she could have fainted. “Any interest in purchasing?” He held up a newspaper, shaking it a little in a joking way. She was sure he could see the way she was gulping down air, and when she reached into her pocket to pull out her money she fumbled with it. The pennies slipped from her fingers, hitting the dirty city sidewalk with quiet pings. Her face got impossibly warmer as she went to bend down to pick them up, only for the newsboy to beat her to it. He rushed over to grab them off the ground, and when he stood up straighter again he was far closer than he’d been before. “Here ya go, miss,” he said as he held out his hand with her change resting in his palm. She reached out but instead of taking the money, she closed his fingers around it. She watched as his eyes followed the movement of hands before slowly returning to her face, wide with some emotion she couldn’t read.

“Keep it,” she said. Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her, so she cleared her a throat a little before speaking again. “I’ll take that newspaper, if you don’t mind.” A beat passed before he seemed to register what she had said, scrambling to hold out the paper to her. She took it gently from his hands, feeling a small smile make its way onto her face.

“The pape’s only two pennies,” she heard him say. “You gave me too much.” Her smile grew.

“Keep it,” she repeated. “On account of such an interesting headline.” Her heart was going crazy in her chest, she felt like it was bouncing around in her rib cage trying to bust its way out. He gave her an incredulous look before his own grin returned. She watched as he bent his legs until he was bowing before her again, looking up with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Meant of every word of it.” A clap of thunder sounded in the distance and she jumped slightly, her head turning to look up at the sky where storm clouds were beginning to gather. When she looked back to him he was no longer bowing, but his eyes stayed trained on her. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Y/N,” she breathed, her voice being carried away on the soft wind that suddenly blew between them.

“Nice to meet ya, Y/N.” His smile never dropped, but he finally chanced a look up at the darkening sky. “Looks like we both should be findin’ somewhere dry soon, but if ya ever want ta find me again....” He trailed off as their eyes met again. She could have drowned herself in his eyes and been happy, she could have stood in the incoming rain for days just looking into his eyes and been happy. “The name’s Race,” he finished. “I’ll see ya around, darlin’.”

Just at that moment Sister Mary walked out of the shop behind them. Y/N looked back at the sound of the door opening, quickly taking a step back from Race and brushing her (now sweaty) hands on her skirt. She looked back at him quickly with a small smile and a nod before walking briskly over to join her friend.

“Ready to go?” Mary asked. “I reckon we better hurry if we don’t want to get caught in another storm.” Y/N nodded, linking arms with the nun as they began to walk back in the direction that had come from. She waited until they were far enough away to speak up again.

“You did that on purpose,” she hissed, glaring at Mary.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Mary teased, a sly smile on her face. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it. From what I saw through the window, he looked rather happy to see you.” Y/N felt the heat rush to her face again and knew if she tried to speak her voice would betray her, so she settled for lightly hitting Mary’s arm and grumbling at her to shut up, which made the nun laugh.

They only just barely made it back to the monastery before the rain began to fall. As she looked out at people rushing to shelter, she couldn’t help but think of Race, hoping he was somewhere safe and warm waiting out the storm.

__________

Race had been practically floating ever since he had seen the girl from the wagon again while he was selling. He would whisper her name to himself as he walked back from selling each day, basking in the way it felt on his tongue. Y/N — it echoed around his head like a prayer. At night he would lay in bed and look at his hand in the dark, remembering how she had reached out to close his fingers around her coins, the memory of her skin burned into his own. The boys had been pestering him about what had been making him so giddy, but he never gave them much of an answer. Their small interaction, the moments between them, felt like something private and divine, something not meant to be shared but instead to be savored and worshipped. He doubted he’d be able to get the words out to tell them anyway, not before they started teasing him with the expectation of him making his usual jokes. He loved making them laugh, and he had always been fine offering himself up to be laughed at, but just this once he wanted this one small thing to be separate from all the jokes. Y/N wasn’t something to laugh about, and he was reluctant to offer up the chance for the others to turn his already forming feelings for her into a joke.

It was ridiculous how much he liked her. He’d only seen her twice and spoken with her once, but he found his thoughts straying to her practically every minute. The way that she had looked at him, the way that she hadn’t turned away from his flirtatious comments.... everything about her made him want to know more. He found himself looking for her every time he went out selling, hoping to catch a glimpse of her smile.

Five days passed before, finally, his eyes latched onto her as she walked up to him with her eyes turned shyly downward. His grin couldn’t be stopped if he tried, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Well hello there, angel!” He called out when she was steps away from him. She looked up at him with a surprised face, but he watched as it melted into a fond smile and felt his heart practically burst. “Wanna know the headline today?”

“Depends, you gonna give me the real one?” Her smile morphed into something far more cheeky as she poked fun at him.

“‘Course not,” he answered. He looked at her bright eyes and her beautiful face, thinking that angel had been the right name to use because the only word he could think to describe her was angelic. He figured he was beginning to understand why she seemed to always be hanging around with the nuns, it made sense that they would want to keep a real life angel on earth close to them, safe from the rest of the world “No headline could compare to you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them, but before he could regret it her face turned bashful and he felt his breath leave him at how adorable the shyness looked on her.

“Well,” she started, after a moment of silence between them, “what have you got for me, then?” She bit her lip as she looked up at him and he went a little weak in the knees.

“Extra, extra — real life angel on earth blesses lowlife street rat with her presence.” His voice was much softer than when he would call out headlines to the public, his words uttered like a secret between them. Her nose scrunched up as he finished speaking and he was filled with an unbelievable urge to kiss her on the tip of that nose.

“You’re not a lowlife street rat.” He almost laughed out loud at her response, leaning back to let out an amused huff.

“That’s what ya got outta that, huh?” He asked teasingly. “Not the part about a literal heavenly angel on earth?” She smiled brightly.

“Well, it was the street rat I was interested in hearing about, not some dumb angel.” His heart skipped a beat. He had to reach up to grab his cigar from his mouth in fear of it falling to the ground as his jaw went slack. She was still smiling at him, and he had an overwhelming need to just....hold her. To wrap his arms around her and just feel her heartbeat against his.

“Don’t get my hopes up, angel,” he spoke after a long pause. “You goin’ ‘round sayin’ things like that you might give a street rat the idea that you like havin’ ‘im around.”

“Maybe I do,” she all but whispered. He hadn’t realized until then that they’d slowly been moving closer as they talked. They were a mere step away from each other then, her face close enough that he could see his own reflection clearly in her eyes. The sound of someone across the street yelling startled them both and they jumped apart. She cleared her throat before handing him her money. He took it without really looking and handed her a newspaper, gaze still firmly fixed on her face. It was only the fact that he felt one coin in his hand rather than two that made him look down to see the dime she had given him.

“This is too much—“ he started to protest, but she shook her head as a means of quieting him.

“I haven’t got anything else, so it’ll have to do.” He could tell she was lying, but he didn’t say it. He only nodded in thanks, tucking the coin away in his pocket. She smiled one last time at him before she walked away, disappearing into the New York crowd.

When he made it back to the lodge that night he was humming, so giddy he could hardly contain himself. Tommy Boy looked at him weirdly as he passed, but Race couldn’t be bothered by it. Even if she hadn’t meant it exactly the way he wanted her to, Y/N had clearly said that she was interested in him. Nothing could have brought him down from that cloud nine.

__________

Y/N tried to wait longer before she made the trek to see Race again, she really did, but she kept dreaming about him. Against her better judgement he seemed to have already firmly planted roots in her heart, so it was only three days after the last time she had seen him that she was looking for him around his usual selling spot. She squinted in the afternoon sun, furrowing her eyebrows as she didn’t spot him anywhere around where she had met him the two times prior.

“Lookin’ for someone?” She whipped around to see him standing behind her with a wide, shamelessly teasing smile. She let out a small sigh of relief, not realizing until then that she’d been holding her breath to keep the looming disappointment at bay. But there he was in all his glory, drumming his fingers along the strap of his bag while he grinned at her. “For a certain street rat, maybe?” She laughed at that, brushing a stray hair out her face.

“What headline have you got for me today, hm?” His grin widened, and she felt excitement unfurling in her veins at the giddiness on his face.

“This just in: real life angel on earth turns local street rat into a real boy.” He held out a newspaper to her and she giggled as she took it, dropping a nickel in his empty hand. He opened his mouth to tell her again, presumably, that she had paid him too much but she spoke before he had the chance.

“You don’t say? An angel performing miracles out in the open?”

“Oh yeah, ya should’a seen it. The angel was almost too pretty ta handle.”

“Too pretty, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“And the street rat?”

“Dirty and ugly, but blessed by her presence all the same.” She scrunched up her face at him.

“How about when he turned into a real boy? What was he like then?”

“Still dirty, lil’ less ugly.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” His smile turned more unsure, almost shy.

“And what.... What would you say?”

“I’d say he’s rather beautiful.” She watched as he let out a breath and looked at her with awe. “The angel must have known what she was doing.”

“Yeah, I’m starting ta think she really does.” He held her gaze with a small grin and she returned it in kind, her fingers tightening around the newspaper to keep herself from reaching out to brush away a loose curl that had fallen against his forehead.

They talked for a little while more while he continued to sell his papers and eventually he pushed the curl out of his face himself. The sun was beginning to set by the time she was walking back home, unable to get rid of the bright smile on her face. If the nuns could have seen her they would have had words, and she knew she would probably have endure several lectures the next day when she met them at the church since it was clear she had gone to see Race again (she found that she walked lighter after seeing him, and all of the nuns noticed) but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could practically hear Mary’s teasing and Sister Anna’s motherly warnings as she brushed her hair before retiring to bed.

She dreamt of Race again and she woke up smiling.

_________

“You know, the nuns warned me about you,” Y/N said as Race handed her paper, a teasing flint dancing in her eyes.

“Did they now?” Race smirked, twirling his cigar in his hand as he pocketed the money she’d given him. She hummed, taking a step closer to him. He’d noticed that the more they saw each other the more comfortable she got, and that meant the distance between them was always shrinking and her flirting (he could call it flirting, couldn’t he? If it was something else he didn’t know the word for it) got bolder.

“They said you were nothing but a reckless flirt and I should be wary of you.” He felt a sudden sense of pride knowing that she’d been told to stay away and had continued to come anyway — practically on a daily basis by then.

“I can assure you, angel, I ain’t in this just for the fun of it.” He watched her smile falter before it widened and turned cheeky, looking just a little bit forced.

“And how do I know you’re not in it for the money?” He raised an eyebrow before taking another small step toward her, taking her hand in his.

“Stop paying so much and maybe you’ll find out.” He placed a kiss on the back of her hand, letting his lips linger there for just a second. When he looked back up at her it looked like she was holding her breath. The May sun that he’d been sweating in all day was shining behind her, but because of where she was standing its light was like a frame around her silhouette. She looked like something truly heavenly and divine, like a real angel — halo and all.

Someone cleared their throat to his right and they seemed to snap back into reality (he hadn’t even realized that they’d done it again, entered that little pocket of the world they sometimes found where only they existed). She pulled her hand back at lightning speed and he stood up straight as quick as he could, turning to glare at whoever had interrupted them.

Jojo was standing there, looking between the two of them before his gaze landed on Race and he smiled like he’d hit the jackpot. Race paled. He tried hard to think so loud that Jojo could hear him, to scream don’t laugh. Don’t make this one of our jokes, don’t make her think this is just a laugh for me. Don’t do it.

“Hey, Race.” Jojo’s smile slid into a lazier expression, his hands slipping into his pockets. Race couldn’t tell if he’d gotten the message, but he hoped to God he had. “Been lookin’ for you everywhere.” He chanced a glance over at Y/N, seeing that she looked unsure of whether or not she should leave and stick around. He didn’t even know what option would’ve been better at that point, just desperately clinging to the hope that Jojo wouldn’t go about this the wrong way. “Ya gonna introduce me to your friend?” Race sucked in a sharp breath.

“Uh, yeah... yeah. This is Y/N. Y/N this is Jojo,” he gestured between them. Y/N smiled kindly at the other newsie, nodding in his direction.

“Hello,” she spoke, tone as warm as always.

“Nice ta meet you, Miss,” Jojo smiled, tipping his hat slightly. Race let out a sigh of relief at his friendly and specifically non-teasing manner.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Y/N gave a little curtsy and the action was so cute that it made Race’s heart stutter. “I should be going.” She turned to look at Race only, then. “Thank you for the paper.” He could see in her eyes that that wasn’t all she wanted to say, that maybe she was thanking him for something else, too. Before he could truly decipher it, she was already turning around with a small wave to them both. Race and Jojo watched her walk away for a moment before Jojo spoke up again.

“And what exactly was that I was interrupting, hm?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Race scoffed, shoving him amicably.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, putting his cigar back

in mouth.

“C’mon,” Jojo laughed, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “The boys are all at Jacobi’s, and I’m sure they’ll all want to hear this story.” Race groaned but let Jojo drag him along anyway.

He was right, the boys were eager to hear the tale of Jojo finding Race with his lips pressed to some girl’s knuckles. And once that story had been told at least three times they all pestered him to tell them more about her, which led to him revealing that it was the very same girl who had been on the wagons with the nuns that day. They dragged every single detail out of him and though there were plenty of jokes made, he found comfort in the fact that no one seemed to make Y/N the target of their laughter and content in the fact that no one was teasing him too much about the lovestruck look he knew was on his face.

__________

Y/N was running incredibly late to go visit Race. She went practically every day around the same time and if she knew she couldn’t make it she’d let him know the day before. But the day had gotten away from her and she’d been caught up helping her mother with things at home. By the time she was out the door, just short of running with her skirt hiked up in her hands, the sun was already about to set.

She rushed through the New York streets, doubtful that Race would even still be there — it was late, after all, and she couldn’t possibly expect him to be waiting around for her to show up. Her heart clutched onto that hope, though, thinking about what it would mean if she arrived and he was there, waiting. Her heartbeat sped up to match her hurried footsteps and she couldn’t tell if it was because of how fast she was going or because the thought of Race always made her heart do strange things. Her only solace was that, with the sun leaving the sky, the unbearable June heat was softening.

She skidded to a stop just twenty feet away from where they usually met. Race was standing there in the pink light of the sunset, looking around the streets and fiddling with his cigar. Her heart stopped with her feet, and for a second she swore it wasn’t going to start again before it’s rhythmic beat came back in full force. He had waited for her. He was standing there, waiting for her.

She was breathing heavily as she approached him, trying her best to straighten herself out so she didn’t look as if she had run the whole way there. She caught the moment when he finally saw her and his eyes widened, a bright grin spreading on his face.

“I was startin’ to get worried, angel,” he said, walking to meet her halfway. “Thought maybe you’d forgotten ‘bout lil’ old me.”

“Never,” she smiled. “You’d be impossible to forget. And besides, I was only caught up with some errands my mother had me running.”

“Impossible to forget, yeah?” His smile turned teasing and she rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Don’t make me regret saying it,” she laughed.

“Never,” he quoted her, breathing the word so quiet she had to lean in to hear it. He was so close to her, so close that if she just grabbed him by vest and pulled him toward her they’d be chest to chest and the distance between their lips would be almost imperceivable. She wanted to do it, every bone in her body ached for her to be as close to him as possible. She had to scrunch her hands up in skirt in order to keep herself from doing something stupid with the way he was looking at her, like she’d hung the stars in the sky. “I saved a pape for you,” he spoke up again, offering up the only newspaper he had left with him. She stared down at it.

Her head was a mess of thoughts and affections. He had waited for her. He could probably have been finished selling long before she arrived, but he had saved her his last newspaper and waited until she came for it. Was it ridiculous to think he’d done it just to have the excuse to talk to her? Was it too soon to let her heart hope and flutter as she took the newspaper from him and handed him her change? Was it too much to think that just maybe if she had let herself pull him to her, he would have kissed her back?

“Thank you,” she finally whispered. His smile wasn’t as wide then, but it was softer around the edges and it felt like she might burst with all the love she felt for him in that moment.

“It’s getting dark,” he pointed out. She looked at the sun to see the sun had sunken almost entirely behind the horizon. “Can I walk you home?” She looked at him in surprise to see him holding his arm for her to take. She thought about what her parents might say if they saw her through the window being walked home by some boy. She thought of what the nuns might say if one of them caught sight of her letting the boy they’d warned her about walk her home. She took his arm anyway.

They talked as they strode down the street together, their voices quiet in the hush of nightfall. He made her laugh more times than she could count and every single time he smiled proudly at her.

“You’re something else, angel,” he said to her as they neared her house.

“I’m starting to think you call me ‘angel’ because you forgot my actual name.” She gave him a pointed look but its weight was lightened by the corners of her mouth fighting to turn upwards, her amusement shining through. They stopped walking in front of her house.

“How could I ever forget your name, Y/N?” He asked, his voice coming out as a whisper. He reached a hand up to brush a hair out of her face before letting it rest on her cheek, caressing her face. “It’s the closest thing I know to prayer.”

She stopped breathing.

He was so, so close to her. He called her angel and said her name like a prayer and made up headlines to make her laugh and never once tried to get one over on her and waited for her even when she was ridiculously late and saved his last newspaper to have a reason to see her and he was so close. She should have kissed him, then. But she didn’t.

A light turned on in her house and Race took a step backward from her.

“Goodnight, angel,” he whispered.

“Goodnight,” she breathed. He walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night. When she finally made her way to bed and laid down for some much needed sleep all she could think of was his face close to hers and the way her heart had wanted to fly out of her body.

__________

There was a storm coming. Crutchie had said so that morning, and Race could practically smell it in the air. Y/N was telling him about how she liked summer storms because they offered a break from the heat, but her mother hated them because of the humidity. He watched her face, admiring the way her eyes shone as she spoke. He wasn’t an artist, like Jack, but he swore he knew every detail of her face so well by then that if he got his hands on some of Jack’s charcoal he could recreate it perfectly. The clouds looming ahead that served as a constant reminder of the impending storm were blocking out the sun, but she radiated her own light that kept the day from seeming too gloomy. Eventually, their conversation came to a halt as Y/N looked up at the sky with a sigh.

“I suppose I should be heading back to the monastery so I don’t get caught out in the rain.” She looked reluctant to leave and it made him smile.

“We wouldn’t want that,” He quipped. “Can’t have my angel catching a cold.” She laughed and hit his arm lightly.

“Oh it’s your angel now, is it?” He drew in a breath.

“It could be.”

She looked at him and, for once, he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“Could be,” she repeated, barely mumbling the words. Her lips turned upward at the corners before she leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Goodbye, Race.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes before pulling away and turning to leave.

“Bye!” He croaked out, voice shaky and too loud — not that it mattered, she was already too far away to hear him by the time he had managed to get the word out.

The entire walk back to the lodge it was as if his feet didn’t touch the ground once. Days spent selling in July usually left him sweaty and exhausted, ready to collapse into bed, but there was too much adrenaline running through his veins for him to know what to with. The ghosts of her lips lingered on her cheeks and he half wondered if he looked in a mirror whether he would see a mark made in the shape of her kiss, burned into his skin like her fingers had all those months ago.

The newsies noticed something was up as soon as he walked in.

“Hey Racer, ya okay over there?” Jack called out, looking like he was ready to leap into action if he had to stop Race from falling over. The boy in question nodded dumbly, stumbling over to his bed before plopping down. A few of the boys followed him over and everyone’s eyes stayed trained on him.

“This ‘bout that goil of yours?” Mush piped up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Race whispered, swallowing when he realized how dry his throat felt. “Yeah, she’s really something.” A smile spread across his face and he was sure he looked like a fool, sitting on his bed and smiling at nothing. The others exchanged looks.

“She’s got ya real bad, huh?” Albert asked, sounding like he was enjoying Race’s state of disarray much more than was necessary.

“She’s just - I mean, she’s....” He tugged his hat off his head and let his upper half fall back onto the bed. “Wow.” He heard a few of the boys snicker at him, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Race is in loooove!” He heard Les yell from somewhere, drawing out the word teasingly in a way that made the kid fall into a fit of laughter. Race raised his hand and sat up to protest but stopped before he could. His face went slack as his eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” Jojo whispered. “He actually is.”

Again, Race wanted to say that he was wrong. But that was precisely the problem: he wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest. Race had definitely, fully, fallen in love with Y/N — and he hadn’t even realized it.

“I have to tell her,” he mumbled. The boys started to murmur around him.

“What?

“What did he say?”

“I have to go tell her,” he repeated, louder. “I have to tell her.” He stood up, buzzing with energy, his hat and cigar abandoned on his bed.

“Right now?” Davey asked. “Race, it’s pouring out.” As soon as he said it Race’s ears tuned in to the sound of rain falling outside. He didn’t care.

“Love doesn’t wait for rain!” Romeo called out enthusiastically. “Go get ‘er, Racetrack!” A few of the other newsies yelled with similar sentiments and Race smiled at them.

“See ya on the other side, boys.” With that, he was out the door, running through the empty streets in the rain on his way to the monastery.

Vaguely he registered Davey asking Jack if they should follow him, but he was out of earshot before he heard the answer. There was only one thing on his brain: he was in love with Y/N, and he was desperately hoping that she loved him, too.

________

Y/N was standing under one the stone awnings of the monastery, looking out as the rain fell. She liked to listen to it and she liked even more to see the streets empty of their usual bustling crowds, it made her feel peaceful — and she was in desperate need of calming down. Her face still felt warm from hearing Race call her his angel, and her stomach was still all knotted up from kissing him on the cheek. She hadn’t even known she was going to do it before she was leaning in, but when she saw his face afterward she was glad she had. The nuns had all given her looks when she returned, Sister Mary in particular smiling brightly at her. It had taken time, but over the months that she’d been visiting Race most of the nuns had come around. They were much more likely then to tease her about him rather than lecture her.

She gave a huff of laughter just thinking of the ridiculousness of the situation. Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the rain wash over her and calm her frantic heart.

Her peace was interrupted by the sound of fast footsteps, growing increasingly louder. She opened her eyes with furrowed brows, looking out into the streets to see who could be running around in the storm. The world stopped when she saw him.

He was absolutely soaked from the downpour, his hair matted to his face and his hat missing. He slowed to a stop when he saw her, standing twenty feet away from her in the rain.

“Hi!” He called out and raised his hand in greeting, and she laughed in disbelief at his casualness while in such a state.

“You’re gonna get sick!” She yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth so her voice would carry better over the rain. “What on earth are you doing?!”

“I had to come see you!” He called as she waved him in under the awning with her. He jogged to her, grabbing both of her hands in his and holding them up between their bodies. “I had to come see you,” he repeated, softer. He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles one by one, her breath hitching as he did. He looked at her like she really was an angel and it stole all of the air out of her lungs.

“What — what are you doing?” She managed to force the words out past the lump forming in her throat, her voice weak.

“I know I can’t offer ya much,” he said in lieu of an actual answer, and her heart stopped. “I know that if we were together it might be frowned ‘pon, and I know the nuns might not approve of me.” She was going to collapse, she was going to well and truly fall to the ground right then and there. “But I haven’t had a single second of peace since the first day I saw you. Y/N, you’re all I think about. I could spend the rest of my life with you and never grow tired of seeing your face or hearing your laugh. I could be happy with you for the rest of forever.”

“Race,” she breathed. “Are you asking me to marry you?” He laughed.

“No, not yet. Maybe someday, but for now...” He trailed off, looking at her with a tenderness in his eyes that made her want to pull him into a never-ending hug. “For now I’m saying that I am absolutely in love with you, Y/N L/N, and I’m asking you to be with me. I’m asking for you to hope with me that someday I’ll have enough saved up to buy you a ring and we can do this all over again.” He kissed her hand again before bringing it up to touch his face and holding it against his cheek. “I’m asking you to tell me you want me to stay.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Everything that she was had been reduced to her heart beating out of control and the feeling of his skin against her hands. He loved her. He talked with her and he made her laugh and he waited for her and he walked her home when it got dark and he called her his angel and he loved her. And she loved him, unquestionably so.

“Racetrack Higgins, I have dreamt of you from the minute I met you. You are something utterly divine, and I have so much love for you I barely know what to do with it.” She watched as his hopeful smile grew at her words. “Of course I want you to stay. I want you to stay and never, ever leave me.”

He pulled her against him and she couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that he was still dripping with rain water. His arms wrapped around her bodice and she clasped her hands around his neck, holding his face to hers. He kissed her and she swore she heard angels singing among the rainfall. He kissed her and he kissed her and he kissed her and she was bursting with happiness and love from it. When they finally pulled away, panting, she saw him open his mouth to say something before closing it, squinting as his gaze moved from to the streets. She turned with confusion to see what he was looking at only to find a small bunch of newsies who seemed to have taken cover from the rain under an awning across the street. It looked like they were cheering, but she couldn’t hear them over the rain as it picked up even harder than before.

“Jesus Christ,” Race mumbled as he looked at them, making her laugh. He turned back to her and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Sorry about them,” he said sheepishly. “They’re probably gonna wanna meet you.” She smiled, nothing could have brought her down from the high she was on — and being able to meet Race’s friends only sent her floating closer to the heavens.

“Fine by me,” she laughed. He smiled fondly at her in return. “We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting in the rain, though.”

“Well,” he grinned cheekily. “We can make them wait just a minute longer.” He leaned down to kiss her again, and she smiled into it.

One day, she would have to thank Sister Mary for bringing her on that errand way back in April. For the moment being, she was content to keep kissing Race as the rain fell around them.

__________

tag list: @isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod @abovethyfold @mycollectionofnuts @gayrightsansa

#racetrack higgins x reader #newsies imagine #racetrack higgins #newsies x reader #jack kelly #david jacobs #jojo de la guerra #specs newsies #romeo newsies #albert dasilva #les jacobs #newsies #newsies live #anyway........come tell me what you thought og this!! validate me!!#*of #im pretty proud of this one :)#but also bruh this was 23 pages in google docs #bambi can kinda write

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puttingfingerstokeys · 3 years

Text

Hat Trick

in which Johnny Cage is... himself. Featuring the Shaolin Rowdy Boys. Formatting is for losers.

faraday cage implied, shaolin rowdy boys too obviously.

Prevented timeline

“Yeah, yeah, your hat’s cool an’ all, but honestly, Raiden’s got you beat,” declared Johnny Cage, wrapping a towel around broad shoulders, mopping the sweat off his brow. Kung Lao shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“Lord Raiden’s hat is not a weapon,” he said as Liu Kang walked into the SF locker room area. The Shaolin monks had been asked to come and provide special training for the new batch of recruits and they had just finished for the day.

“It does not need to be,” Liu Kang reminded his friend, sidling past Kung Lao to the locker he was borrowing. Sweat glistened upon his muscular back and Johnny made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on the man with whom he was conversing. If Lao noticed, he said nothing. He was not blind. Even well into their fifties, all three men were at the height of their strength, power, and if you asked Johnny—no one did; it was a bad move in general if one did not have time—looks.

Johnny shot Liu Kang a set of finger guns, brow cocked. “See? He’s got it. Dude shoots LIGHTNING!”

“Correction,” supplied the humbler of the two monks, his fist full of clean clothing, “Lord Raiden is lightning.”

Johnny waved this off as if to say “tomato-tomahto”.

“Anyway, what I really wanna know is how he keeps that lid on,” Johnny Cage continued, stripping his clothing off thoughtlessly and tossing it in the “dirty” bag. This, at least, he had learned—long ago, he had learned this, in fact, when Cassie was just a kid and she complained that his dirty things did not belong in the duffle bag with his clean things; something about cross contamination or “just plain gross” or something—and had held to for many years. What was once an unruly jerk, to put it mildly, had become a responsible father… mostly. He still had his idiosyncrasies.

“He is a god,” said Liu Kang, shrugging and moving past Kung Lao once more, opting to strip closer to the showers. Johnny, he knew, liked to strut. Neither of them begrudged him this, however, as it was his home territory.

“That’s a shitty explanation,” said Johnny, shooting Liu a look as the monk disappeared around the tiled corner to the showers. Lao and Johnny thought they heard a low chuckle before the shower started up and steam began to roll from that doorway.

“Do you have a better one?” Kung Lao asked, closing his temporary locker, fist also closed around his clothing. He too intended to disrobe elsewhere. Johnny by now was in compression shorts and nothing else. It was about to be nothing, period, as one thumb hooked over the elastic. The word “CAGE” was embroidered on the waistband and for half a moment, Kung Lao wondered who had put it there for him, like a child who forgets his clothing at a friend’s home. It then occurred to him that Johnny Cage was a very wealthy man and had clothing lines—multiple—with his name stamped all over them. Vanity, Kung Lao thought, making a face of disapproval.

“Yeah, I do—I’ll just ask ‘im.”

Kung Lao had heard and seen much when it came to Johnny Cage and his obvious interest in the god of thunder. He and Liu Kang had agreed to keep it between themselves, though if anyone could not see it, they were blind as Kenshi… though he had seen it as well—something about the man’s heartrate when the god was nearby. This, however, was for some reason right up there with the time he had heard Johnny Cage refer to Lord Raiden as “thunder tits” with no consequences.

“You cannot just—”

“PFFTH not with that attitude,” said Johnny and then shouted—his voice echoed violently in the tiled room and Kung Lao winced, “HEY—Raidude, you on this frequency or whatever? I got a question!”

Kung Lao, fully expecting nothing, jumped again as a muffled clap of thunder once more rent the now-steamy air. Whatever it was had occurred outside, naturally, but was loud enough to pull Liu Kang’s attention and he poked his dripping head around the corner, long hair draped about his shoulders, a quizzical look upon his face. “Was that…?”

It was.

Ducking slightly under the economized entrance of the locker room, the god of thunder entered without pomp, circumstance, or ceremony. “I have an answer, Johnny Cage, and I am grateful that you did not whistle this time. It is… abrasive.”

“Of course it is,” Kung Lao grunted under his breath. Raiden regarded him momentarily and the monk covered himself, though he was not nude. Liu Kang’s head stayed where it was, though he seemed to want to shrink back into the showers. His cheeks were red and it was not necessarily from the heat. In fact, of the three mortals, only Johnny Cage was not blushing.

“Hey, I said I wouldn’t, right? Anyway—whatever, I got a question… Your hat,” he said, gesturing toward it. “How’s it stay up there?”

Raiden touched the brim briefly and looked puzzled, brows knitting, as if he had never considered this. The two monks watched, wide-eyed. Johnny gestured.

“So, can I knock it off?” He figured he would at least ask this one. Sucker punching a god was both dangerous and difficult, even a friendly one.

“You may attempt.”

If Liu Kang’s sharp ears were not full of suds and deceiving him, he would have sworn upon the jinsei itself that Raiden’s voice contained a hint of genuine amusement. They watched as the god of thunder even dipped his head, ever-so-slightly, to make the blow easier. Like lightning, Johnny’s hand shot out and both monks remembered suddenly why he was a valuable ally. The hit was charged with just a little of what he called his shadow energy, to give a little more impact. The hat did not move.

“OW.”

“All right, all right… you’re not fuckin’ with me; I get it.” Johnny waved it off, as he waved much in his life off, until something about the hat caught his eye. “Hang on.”

Raiden straightened; this time, open amusement played across his face. Johnny held his wrist and anticipated a bruise, even with the shielding of his power. He watched as Raiden raised a hand to the ornate jingasa and lifted it effortlessly, bringing it downward for Johnny's inspection. All three sets of mortal eyes were upon it, as if anticipating something mystical to occur. Kung Lao was kicking himself for never considering asking the god about his clothing, but then… when had the occasion arisen for such a conversation? It had not in fact arisen just now, either. Johnny simply did not care. Sometimes, Lao envied him this.

With deliberate slowness, then, knowing how dangerous it was to get close to Raiden. Certain proximities were safe, but those were much more intimate than he was comfortable attempting with two other people in the immediate area—and he did not yet know this secret, anyway. He laid his hand on the hat and felt the buzz of electricity through it, from the god of thunder.

“Is this…?” His voice softened, such that Liu, with the shower on behind him, almost could not hear. He did, however, hear it and the tone in which it was delivered. Kung Lao was already edging toward the door to the showers and ended up buffeting his friend out of the way and back into those showers, to give the other two some space.

“Your gift? Yes.” The answer was simple, might almost have sounded casual or pat, if anything Raiden ever said could sound that way.

“Did you… put that thing on just ‘cause I called?”

“It is one of my most precious possessions, Johnny Cage; thus, I wear it frequently.” Raiden replaced the beautiful jingasa and straightened. “If I cannot further satisfy you, I have matters to which I must attend at the Sky Temple.”

Johnny could think of some serious, further satisfaction, but kept it locked away tight, in a deep, dark corner of his mind and heart and shook his head. “Hate t’see you go, big guy,” he said, once more shooting finger guns at something that should not be finger-gunned, “but I love watchin’ you leave.”

“Indeed.”

And with that, the god of thunder, Earthrealm’s protector, departed, first through the doorway of the locker room and then via a bolt of lightning. Johnny stood for several moments, hands on hips, before shucking his shorts and sauntering into the shower area only to see Liu Kang and Kung Lao, huddled close together, clearly whispering. The whispers echoed, but were also stifled by the water. He rolled his eyes and ignored them, wondering when they’d see what everyone else saw. Idiots, he thought, ah, but they’ll get to it eventually.

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #johnny cage #raiden #kung lao #liu kang #faraday cage #shaolin rowdy boys #liulao

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sinfulsachi · 3 years

Text

After Heist

Prompt: Aftercare Additional Tags: Dom/Sub, Dirty Talk, Breath Play - Choking Words: 2.1k Fandom: Magic Kaito - KaiAo / KidAo

I dedicate this to @sup-poki, because, well, it’s Poki. :3

“It’s tonight! Kid is going to steal another gem tonight!”

“Kyaah! Will you come and see him?”

“Of course! I never miss any of my husband’s heists. Ever.”

Aoko gorges the first sip of her morning tea in silence. For that alone she contemplates changing their meetup place to a different cafe. She doesn’t want him to get overly arrogant from the unwarranted compliments, nor she to keep rolling her eyes skyward the rest of their stay. It’s too early to get this cranky.

She looks at her watch. Fifteen minutes until he arrives.

Sighing, Aoko decides to waste her time anyway listening to a conversation she’s long used to but prefers not hearing.

The adjacent fangirls converse about the Kid posters they spent the whole night finishing, the cameras they have charged overnight, where the best view is to watch his entrance...all the boring stuff.

Then, the more solemn lady between the two ponders out loud, “I wonder if Kid has a girlfriend.”

Aoko’s ears perk up.

“And if his girlfriend knows he’s a hot magician thief,” the louder blondie supplemented.

She takes a sip of tea. Yes to both, her mind answers.

“Imagine being fucked by Kid before and after his heists. I’d be sooo jealous.”

Aoko chokes on her drink.

The two girls were quick to throw her table a wary glance. Pretending to be preoccupied with the morning paper, she holds the print nearer her face and scrunches at the headline.

Safe, Aoko sighs, as her curious spectators let her go. Though for what she supposes is an extra precaution, the rowdy blonde moves her chair so that her back faces her. Aoko snorts inwardly. As if that can save her from her bat ears. Especially not with that scandalous tone.

“What if I make a sign in big bold letters, ‘Kid-sama, I want you to steal my virginity’?”

“Add a please! Beg for it and who knows, he might visit your bedroom after the heist.”

Oh god. At that instant, Aoko thinks of leaving. This isn’t the kind of conversation she wants to hear at nine in the morning. Two rabid fangirls daydreaming about being nailed by an infamous thief, who happens to be her father’s enemy, who happens to be Kaito, who happens to be her...? No, thanks. The disrespect. Her growing indignation. The damage to her brain cells. She’s not in the mood for this.

Aoko stays.

“Do you think Kid fucks hard? Or is he the slow and sensual type?” The rosette asks her other friend dreamily as if she’s asking about innocent middle school crushes.

“Oh, sister. I bet he’s a rough fucker,” the blonde replies. She leans closer to her friend and looks left and right before continuing in a much lower voice, “My two cents is he ties his girl in bed and dominates her like a champ.”

Something flashes in Aoko’s brain like a movie clip on a big white projector.

「Still clad in all white, he pinned both of her hands with his gloved one, her chest facing the wall as his other hand roamed her backside and gave her ass a delicious spank.

“Looking forward to this, my dirty little Nakamori-san?” he hissed in her ear, then nipped at the underside of her lobe with those lips that were Kid’s if she wanted, but Kaito’s nonetheless.

“Y-Yes,” she rasped, voice shaking from thrill and anticipation. It’s always after heists that he’s most insatiable.」

Pressing her cup to the seam of her lips, Aoko turns her head away from the conversing girls, in case she fails to hide her growing smirk properly.

Well, her one cent isn’t wrong.

“Oh? But I think he’s a pure gentleman in bed,” the rosette opines. “You know, always asks his girl what she wants then he’ll give it to her and more.” She squeals dreamily again.

Aoko bites her inner cheeks.

「They made it to her bed, losing clothes piece by piece as they moved. He climbed above her, and Aoko wrapped her arms around his sweaty shoulders, her fingertips exploring his chiseled back muscles for new scars. His mouth traveled her neck down her sternum, and he gave her cute little mounds gentle flicks with his palm, before taking an erect nipple between his teeth.

“Where do you want me tonight?” he asked, muffled, kissing between her breasts.

“Please... on top and inside me.”

She felt him smirk on her chest. “As you wish, milady.”」

Aoko tips her head down, staring at the ground with a funny smile on her face. Hah. She isn’t wrong either.

“Mm, that may be so, but! Hear this—” the girl scoots closer to the other, ignoring the fact that her voice becomes much more audible from that angle, “I think we can agree on one thing. Kid would be sooo discreet while he screws you. So hot, right?”

Aoko can practically hear the thirst bleeding out of the blonde’s voice. She hates it. Partly because no other woman should be fantasizing about him like that, and partly because the thirst reminds her of her own.

Discreet, they say?

「It wasn’t the echoes of distant police sirens and helicopter rotors that kept her heart pumping erratically in her chest. It was the fact that the man above her was the fugitive they were searching for, and the man instead of hiding in a safer place, chose to be in her room...

“If Nakamori-keibu knew I was doing this to his daughter, he’d figure out exactly where to search...but he doesn’t, does he?” Aoko shook her head, eyes unstably fluttering as he pounded her aggressively.

...Instead of retiring for the night, chose to land on her balcony, stealthy, as he’d done twice or thrice before...

“H-Harder,” she panted, knees trembling from the force of his body tunneling in and out of her.

"Like this?” He rammed her twice the force up the hilt and her walls clenched around him, wet and tight.

“Like that, y-yes!”

...Instead of changing first to civilian attire, chose to hold her, kiss her, and fuck her then and there.

“Yeah?” Not stopping his rhythm, his hand pinned one of her wrists on the sheets, while the other crept up her petite neck, gripped her under the jaw and gave a tender squeeze, and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as he elicited from her a hot sound between a whimper and a moan. The same hand angled her tearful face up, meeting his hooded gaze, “Always ready to be choked like the naughty Nakamori-san I know, hm?”

An intense shudder ran through her spine; her mouth was so wet yet so dry, and his hand lacing her neck trapped all the words in her throat. Heady eyes still set on him, she nodded, frantic, ecstatic.

"Say it, say you love this,” he ordered, slightly loosening his grip to allow her to speak but not stopping his merciless pounding below.

“Y-Yes, s...so much...” she managed to croak.

Smirking lecherously, he leaned down to kiss the sweat and tears on her cheeks. “Very good girl.”」

Aoko bites her lip and presses her thighs together. No, she shouldn’t be feeling this pulsing ache between her legs at nine in the morning.

“But you know what the sad part is?”

“What?”

“That Kid will probably leave you out in the cold after the deed. Poof. Just like that. No trace whatsoever. I mean,” the blonde shrugs, “magician, and thief.”

“I’m fine even with that... like, that’s where we’re getting the appeal right? The mystery? As long as he doesn’t erase my memory of our love making, I’m good,” the rosette replies, and Aoko from a table away cannot believe her ears.

Clearly these girls are in it just for the thrill of the sex. Sex with the mysterious magician thief. That’s not what she’s here for and that’s what makes her different.

「“Ahh, Ka-Kai...nnh!”

Orgasmic moans filled the room as his hot essence flooded her. He continued to thrust, shooting thick spurts while Aoko writhed on the sheets, cries distorted by a thumb in her mouth. Like the tears trickling down her face, fluids oozed out her entrance down the sheets even when he hadn’t yet pulled out. The wet warmth drowned her entire body in delirious pleasure. Same with him as she felt him throb inside, cock up for more action.

They could still handle more.

Which she understood if he wouldn’t do, because his attire was still on the floor and the rotor sounds remained audible. He ought to hide soon.

But he flipped her so she was straddling him, both still connected at the hip.

“Ride me, Aoko.” It wasn’t an order; his eyes were begging. “I missed you so much.”

Her heart leapt because this was her favorite part, and he was giving it to her again. The second was much more sacred, just she and he, no alter persona. She bucked a pace, slow, going fast, lewd wet sounds interplaying with their soft grunts and moans, his nails digging her hips and hers his clavicle until for the second time she rutted on him and he in her.

She collapsed, chest wheezing, ear pressed over his drumming heart. His fingers ran up and down her spine, calming her. The sirens and rotors faded away and their inhales and exhales became much more prominent.

She felt soft kisses on top of her unruly hair.

“Not the gem you’re looking for?” she murmured on his skin after some time.

“Not the gem I’m looking for.” His hand massaged her scalp. The Kid tone was long gone; she was talking to a Kaito doing a job for his late father. That was how she had always viewed it.

“Did it hurt when I...?” he asked. Aoko smiled.

“Not as much as the wound on your back,” she answered.

“Pfft, ‘s nothing. Just a minor slip when I was hurrying here.” They both giggled.

“Please go home and fix yourself... or else Aoko will call their attention to you.” She looked up and met his tired blue eyes. His aftercares after heists were the best.

“No you wouldn’t,” he grinned, kissed her forehead.

“Yes, Aoko would.” She raised a taunting brow.

“Will you hide me under your bed?”

"No.”

“Aww, c’mon Nakamori-saaaan.”

She gigglesnorted. “Shut it or else Aoko will really expose you."」

She doesn’t hear the outward snort she makes. Nor the recent arrival of the person who has taken the seat across her.

“Warui, Aoko!” Kaito’s palms are pressed together in front of his bowed head. “Jii-chan and I had to handle some last-minute preparations. Sorry!”

“No problem.”

Kaito lags. “...No problem?”

“Aoko isn’t mad.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not mad...?”

“Actually Aoko is...” she trails off, noticing the noise of the two girls die down as their eyes rake Kaito’s side profile. The blonde whispers something to her friend, leering eyes still planted on the man. She doesn’t need to hear to know what they’re talking about.

She cannot fault them for thirsting over an infamous ‘bachelor’ magician thief everybody in Japan knows. But try thirsting over another girl’s man and who knows what she’ll do.

“Actually Aoko’s thinking if she should just meet Kaito in his house...” She tinkers with the empty cup in front of her. “But since he’s already here, she’ll just pull him with her back."

“What do you mean?”

"After those preparations with Jii-chan, Kaito may want some warm-up...”

"Warm-up?” His brows crinkle, but Aoko’s two fingers tiptoe up his hand that is on the table, and they smoothen eventually upon realization. “Oh.”

“...Think it’s a bad idea? Before heist?” She bites her lip.

“Gods, no,” smirking, he encloses her two fingers around an iron grip, and, very slowly, makes one pumping movement with his fist, “I may in fact, need some intense warm-up before the main event tonight,” he says in a low voice, and Aoko giggles.

“Stop that, someone might see us.”

He grins haughtily. “You suggested it.”

“No it wasn’t Aoko. It’s them.”

“Them?”

Aoko stands upright, pulls her bag and Kaito’s hand. “Nothing of interest,” she laughs, “Let’s go?”

“Wow, aren’t you in a hurry,” Kaito’s sneer is as wide as a Cheshire cat’s, but not as wide as Aoko’s when they pass by the two girls’ table. She feels their eyes follow them as they exit the shop, and Aoko knows it’s bad to gloat but right now she’s as good as winning a lottery. The man they are eyecandying and the phantom thief they are dreaming of screwing? Both men are about to do to her - and only to her - what they’ve been fantasizing.

Later, and tonight.

#pwp #dcmk pairing: kaiao #my writing #very late kinktober prompt so I'm not going to tag it anymore

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