#flo the floridian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Catch Me if You Can (Sriracha, Part 5.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Mark Summers, Jim Hopper, and Steve Harrington are the three men you have on your mind constantly during the summer of '83 - not knowing if it's a bad thing or a good one.

A/N: We are starting to break the ice with my ol’ pal Jim here!

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @missdictatorme @creedslove

Master list: H E R E

Mark Summers. Mark Summers. That was the name that was popping on your mind two days in a row - you stood in front of your window, watching your lawn being sprayed with the water sprayer and you were thinking about the mysterious, suntanned man who just moved into the city - the one who wasn't supposed to know anyone and who accidentally found a ring. Sometimes you were slightly pissed at Hopper during those past days, but it was nothing that would erase the name off. When you came back home, when you watched Cheers or Magnum P.I. or some movie with your parents, the name always popped in your name again.

It was bugging you off so much, that on Friday morning, you just straight up went to Hopper's little dungeon which you haven't visited in days. Of course, you must've waited until quarter to ten before that man actually showed up and another half an hour before he settled down and was ready to do some actual work. He was just doing some paperwork, that was the first time you've seen him actually working before he looked at you after you coughed a bit.

"How can I help you, Millie?" - He asked and leaned his back into the chair, taking a sip of his coffee. He couldn't be bothered more at that same exact minute, but you seemed to be thinking about something and if it was serious, Hopper should hear what was it.

"I just... I have a feeling and I would like to talk to you about it. Would you mind? It will be only a minute, I swear." - You pointed at the big, plushy chair, holding a yellow fold in your palm. Hopper nodded, furrowing at the paperwork in front of him, closing the fold up. You opened up the fold with your thoughts written down on a piece of paper. - "There was some marriage fraud reported in Indianapolis, just a month ago."

Hopper hummed and noded so you knew that you can continue with telling him what's going on. You actually made some research on that topic, but there really weren't many sources that you could read through.

"Do you think it could be possible that the fraudster is in Hawkins?" - You asked Hopper. You were serious, but Hopper was clearly fighting to keep his face straight from that point on. - "What lead you to this conclusion? Just curious, kiddo."

"Well... The new guy came on Monday with the golden ring. Mark Summers. He's new, he's supposed to be a total stranger in here, isn't he?" - You asked Hopper and with a slight smirk, he nodded, lighting up a cigarette. - "He was on a dinner in the pancake bistro near Maple street a few days ago. With a tanned lady. It was some wild tan. Californian, Floridian, perhaps. He's supposed to be living all alone in Mr. Black's apartment near the furniture store in the downtown."

At that moment, Hopper finally grunted and let go of his serious persona. He whispered a quiet Jesus before giving you a look. - "Do you even know how dating works? Do you have at least any idea about that?"

"Do I look like I'm five, Sir?" - You stood up, closing up the fold again, pressing it closer to your chest. - "Let me look into it. I'll send a telegram to Indianapolis for closer information on the suspect, I'll just give it a try." - You begged Hopper with a serious face. - "You told me that you're pissed about me not telling you about what I'm doing. Now I'm asking for a helping hand." - You said seriously. Hopper puffed out some smoke, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

"If it doesn't work, you owe me a bottle of booze, kiddo." - Hopper told you, picking up the phone, dialing a number from the list he had on his desk. Was he really dialing the Indianapolis police department? Did he trust you with your suspicion? Or was it so he could make fun of you later? Without thinking too much about the consequences, it was pretty good to know that Hopper was willing to put his trust into you. Or at least a bit of it.

"And if it works, you owe me a bottle of Sriracha sauce and quesadillas." - You answered with a small smile, Hopper waving you off when the phone connected. You couldn't see that, but it made him grin at your back. Witty and always ready to play, that was what you were like. A good irony sparring partner when Hopper was in a mood to do so.

The Indianapolis police sent you the file right away - it was delivered just hours after you called them in an express mail, so Hopper must've been really persuasive. And there was everything they had in the crime shows you always watched. The sketch of how the suspect should look like, what he was wearing, the backstory he had, his previous names, there was even a slight description of his car and the old car plate. A lot of things were already lining up. That face was oddly familiar to you already.

You gave yourself a weekend to think about all of that. Was Summers really that dumb to show at the office literally the first day? Or was he smart enough to laugh directly to your face? Was it even him?

In the evening, you decided that you needed to take a fucking break. You needed to go on a walk, so you decided to take some takeaway food and then go to the movies. Just to relax for a minute.

Who would've thought that it actually helps you? But indeed, it did. You were just standing in the queue to pick a hotdog when you saw them. The lady who lost the ring. And who was that with her? Your little bird, Mr. Summers. You screwed the hotdog and followed them when they walked out of the cinema. You kept the right distance to not being noticed, following them through the city for a while.

They were chatting, laughing, walking with their fingers entwined. Chief's voice was still asking you if you know something about the whole dating thing, but you just let your instincts lead you forward. And then it struck you - the exact same type of car described in the police file. The same color, same distributor... Everything was checking. Only the car plate was different, but that was understandable. He wasn't that dumb.

The mysterious woman, fake name, the face in the file... It was lining up. Hopper had trusted you with this one and you succeeded. When you were sure that they won't see you, you ran to the nearest telephone booth. You found Hopper's telephone number on the list, immediately dialing it. You were nervously tapping your foot to the ground, praying Hopper for picking up. When you heard I'm probably doing something incredible right now for the tenth time, you told yourself that you have to do something different. You called Mr. Black.

"Hello, it's Kent Black on the phone, what do you need?" - The old man's voice could be heard through the phone in the next minute. You breathed in a bit too fast with excitement before you continued.

"Hey, Mr. Black. Mrs. Y/L/N from the Hawkins PD is calling, may I speak to Mr. Summers? Is he there?" - You asked innocently, as calmly as you could. You needed to keep reminding yourself of what your goal was. You couldn't say Mr. Black that he has a suspect in his small apartment, you needed to play it really clever. Of course, that motherfucker wasn't there and you knew, but you needed to progress with small steps at a time.

"No, sweetheart, he's not. Do you want me to tell him something when he comes back?" - Mr. Black asked you in a really pleasant tone.

"Oh, actually yes. It's about that ring he found? We forgot to ask him to sign up a document for us and Chief Hopper is very persistent about having his bureaucracy done right, so, could he come to the station tomorrow around eleven o'clock?" - You asked sweetly and put another quarter to the machine so Mr. Black wouldn't hear that you're actually calling him from the telephone booth. When you were done with that call, you tried to dial Hopper again... And again... And again.

You didn't know what he's doing, if he's drunk and drugged or if he's beating up someone again, but you told yourself that Hopper should go screw himself after the fifteenth fucking call.

You got the guy. You really got the guy. The excitement was so huge that you barely slept and went to the office almost half an hour earlier just to have everything done by the time Hopper shows up. The other day, you ran after Hopper as soon as he entered the building at 10:05, following him around for a while before he sat to his chair.

"What has gotten into you today, kiddo? Jesus." - Hopper huffed out angrily before he sat down to the table, eating the cake you've baked. He was looking like a fucking piece of shit - your suspicion was right. He was drinking his fucking ass off again.

"Chief, you should think about where to buy Sriracha, because I got the guy." - You put the papers on his desk with a bang, looking him in the eyes. - "The sketch, car, his described behavior... It all checks out. I'm sure of that."

"And where do you have him, then?" - Hopper asked coldly, leaning his back to the chair. He wasn't even in the mood to think about another female name starting with M that morning. He knew very well what was your name, he was just lazy to call you with it. He also found pretty damn funny to make you pissed. - "Doesn't seem like you have the suspect to me, kiddo."

"He'll come around eleven o'clock. You'll need to interrogate him, but I swear to you, it's the guy." - You stood up to leave the office before he could say anything more. And when you didn't see it, Hopper actually nodded and smiled - you were pretty damn clever. Way more intelligent than he originally thought.

And he needed to say that indeed, your suspicion was damn right. After the guy came, he locked him in his office and after just half an hour of playing the really bad cop, no matter how illegal it might seem to be, Mr. Summers, now actually Mr. Lockwood, confessed. He was really easy to break, he didn't even think that you could know who he is or that you would connect two dots. He was clever, yes, he was also a snake, but he wasn't brave at all. He was shaking like a little bitch by the time he was leaving Hopper’s office.

Hopper told your parents really soon and your mother started to cry immediately. She was really proud of you - her baby girl helped with solving a crime. She made you your favorite dish that night, making you spill out everything. When you came to the office on Wednesday, Hopper was already there and he came to your desk as soon as you sat down.

First, he told you that the man was actually traveling around for some time - he already stole money from six old ladies. He was actually for a longer time Hawkins, choosing his prey before he broke into her house to steal the ring. The poor woman was a widow who was living alone, so it was actually pretty easy to win her affection. The woman who was on the dinner with him was Jasmine, his long-time partner, and his partner in crime. No matter how dumb it sounded in the start, you were actually right and he needed to say that. And also, he had a promise to keep. The guy was already taken to Massachusetts, where he was originally from, and they promised you to hold him jailed for a long, long time after the trial.

"You have time later by any chance?" - He asked with a completely uninterested face. It was hard to actually say if Hopper could feel any emotion at that moment, but he seemed to be extremely apathetic. The thing you didn't know that its almost another year since Sara has died and he was out of Tuinal again - and he couldn't send you there, because Mrs. Sinclair wouldn't give you any other package for Hopper.

"Today?" - You asked with confusion. The coffee was already brewed and the donuts were already bought, which was a thing you didn't know Hopper took care of instead of you. The food was there every morning precisely at the same time every day, which was actually pointing out to how much you were trying your best to do the job well. Now, it was your damn time to take a moment to relax. Hopper took care of almost most of the things earlier that morning. Slowly, he nodded, still staring off to the distance. - "Yeah. What do you need, Sir?"

"I have a surprise for you. Just wait for me here until I come back in the evenin', alrite?" - Hopper put his significant hat off before he turned around and left to the office. And you wanted to pat your shoulder because he hadn't called you by a made-up name ever since.

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #hawkins police chief #chief jim hopper #stranger things #stranger things Netflix #sriracha

43 notes · View notes

mitchellsbeca · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 1/? Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Summary: A collection of prompts/tumblr requests. Bechloe for now but may change later.

prompt 18. “I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

In all honesty, it was the last person Beca expected to turn up, her arrival always catching Beca off guard and tilting her center of gravity.

It had been about six months since she’d officially signed with Khaled, six months since the Bellas had split and gone their own ways and Beca had moved to Florida. But she’d still invited them all to the release party for her first album, something she’d worked tirelessly on to get it completed as soon as possible (and she already had a repertoire of songs and beats saved on her computer so there hadn’t been a great deal of work to do, just plenty of fine-tuning).

Understandably some couldn’t make it; Jessica and Ashley were busy at a different event in California doing... something (she should really ask them what they’re doing now), Cynthia Rose was in military training and couldn’t get the leave, Lilly or Ester or whatever her name was now was off somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, Fat Amy had flown herself over since she had the money now, along with a Aubrey, Emily, Flo and Stacie (who had actually brought Bella with her and made motherhood look cool and easy at the same time). But Chloe had reluctantly declined, her studies taking up most of her time now that she was at vet school with an unavoidable exam taking place the same Friday. And she was the one Beca had been most looking forward to seeing.

It was a red carpet event so everyone was dressed particularly nicely. Beca had been assigned a blazer slash play suit piece, dark red with cut-off shorts in matching fabric and heels. Hair and make up had been done - maybe even over done for Beca’s liking - but done nonetheless. And she did look killer, she wouldn’t disagree. Beca was actually feeling good.

But even in the sea of people at the venue, alongside influencers, other artists and photographers, Beca pulling attention from all corners, her focus wasn’t with anyone else but who’d just walked in.

It was like a parting of the ocean, Beca’s direct line of sight guided by a line of emptiness with people either side and all sound plunging to mute.

A blue gilded dress with a deep neckline held the woman tight, hair braided like a halo around her head with strands falling to frame her face. And the sky. The endless gorgeous sky that Beca always saw in her eyes, even from halfway across the room it was like daylight and the height of summer and the endless possibilities that could be. Could have been.

Beca excused herself from the group she was surrounded by, one of them a journalist who was halfway done with asking Beca questions about the album and attempting to pry into her personal life.

Chloe looked lost, eyes wandering across the vast, dark room in sight of any face she might find familiar with clutch caught in front as her body turned. Beca wove through bodies on the approach, smile growing ever so slightly larger as she neared.

And Chloe beamed, spotting the brunette head towards her and she moved forward, arms outstretched and ready to embrace her best friend. Laughter escaped them both when they hugged, Chloe’s warmth seeping into Beca, dissolving her stress and settling some of the underlying anxiety she’d been suffering from all day.

“I thought you couldn’t make it?” Beca asked.

“Amy flew me over from New York. You know she has her own private jet now, right?”

“I do.”

“Well, she didn’t take no for an answer, so she got her pilot to fly back and pick me up after my exam and I got ready on the plane.”

“Yeah, you look like you got ready on a plane,” Beca jested with a playful smirk.

“Please. This is Mile High Couture, thank you very much,” she said, splaying her arms out as she showed off her out and stroke a pose, “And I was going to say I look better than you but that would be an outright lie. You look... stunning, Beca, honestly.”

“This? It’s just people doing their job to make me look good. Turns out you can only do so much with an actual potato. But yours is all natural, you don’t even need to try; you always look incredible.”

“You’re not a potato. But we’ll leave the ‘all natural’ comment out for discussion.” “Dude, I’m not kidding.”

The grin on her face faltered, like a sudden thought had popped to the forefront of Chloe’s mind and escaped to her expression. She eyed someone next to them before she leaned in, pulling at Beca’s wrist and asking in a hushed voice, “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a bit more... private?”

Beca turned to who Chloe had been eyeing; a tall guy with heavy duty camera equipment that was beginning to snap pictures, flash almost blinding. A small group of people lingered behind him too, so Beca nodded in response and grasped the wrist of the hand holding her own, pulling Chloe behind her. She knew where to go. There was a secret balcony down a corridor next to the restrooms that she had scouted earlier that day. So Beca lead them there, out into the Floridian air that was more humid than inside but fair quieter.

“Sorry about that,” Beca apologized.

Chloe shook it off, “You’re a big celebrity now. People want to know you.” “I’m just making music, like I’ve always been doing. Just... more people are listening to it now.”

A silence fell. The thumping bass of the music inside was the only thing that could be heard but the air was still around them. They were both leaning against the edge of the balcony, solid stone wall cool on their skin.

Beca was about to speak when Chloe jumped in before her, “I listened to it. The album, I mean. As soon as you sent it over I listened to it in one sitting. I’m not going to lie to you when I tell you I cried a little bit.”

“You cry at videos of dogs.”

Chloe chuckled, “So it wasn’t necessarily a hard task, okay? But still... it really moved me, Beca.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it.”

“Especially the hidden track.”

The brunette’s posture went rigid. She doesn’t know how, but Beca had been hoping Chloe had missed it, that dumb song she’d unknowingly recorded on her down time (thanks to Theo, once again), stripped back and acoustic. “Yeah?” she asked.

“I don’t know why, but when I first heard it I was kind of... I don’t know. I had to listen to it again. But when I did, I was just... crying and I couldn’t work out why, but I felt like it was a piece of a puzzle that I didn’t even know I had that I’d been missing. And I asked Amy if she’d heard it and what she thought of it and she told me. She told me it was about us. And how you felt about me.”

“Feel,” Beca corrected, staring at the street below them.

A beat, too long too be promising, “...what?”

And it was now or never, Beca decided. Because if she owed Chloe anything, it was the truth. She didn’t have the energy to keep tip-toeing anymore. Chloe had her life sorted now so it wouldn’t make a difference, but she deserved to know, “How I feel about you. Because I love you. And I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be in love with you because it’s not my place to be in love with you—”

“Beca...”

“The truth is, Chloe, I’ve loved you since Freshman year; starting from when you broke into my shower and invited me to audition for the Bellas. When we sang together for the first time?” Beca asked like she thought Chloe wouldn’t remember. “It just took me too long to realize, and when I did... it was too late. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was too slow and gave too little. I didn’t just break up with Jesse because of the long distance. He wanted me to move with him to LA and I said no, but as soon as you said you were going to New York the thought of not seeing you on the daily made me feel like I was going to drop off the planet. So I agreed to move with you and make it work. I knew I couldn’t ask you to be with me the same way as I was with Jesse, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because I was still saw you every day. And even on the USO tour I didn’t say anything because... because I already knew I was too late...” she looked up at Chloe with a sad, gentle smile, but blue eyes were covered by eyelids pressed shut, cheeks glistening in the dark, “and that was okay. I made my peace with that even before we moved. I just wanted you to be happy, and Chicago made you happy, so I didn’t interfere. And all the Bellas wanted me to take this opportunity so I did. And it was a perfect way to move onto the next chapter.”

“We’re not... together anymore. Chicago and I.”

It was Beca’s time to be taken aback, “What?”

“I didn’t really work out. He’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he would have been working away from home a lot and I barely know him already so that’s... not what I want.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe.”

The redhead moved to Beca, clutch left behind resting on the flat of the ledge so she had two delicate hands free. And they reached for the hands across from her, pulling them closer and making Beca turn to face her, “What I’m trying to say is... that chapter? It didn’t start for me when we left Spain, but it ended on a cliffhanger when I heard your song. And I don’t know what the next one is going to be.”

And they were both so close. As close as Chloe had pulled her on hood night all those years ago, but this time Chloe’s eyes were red and puffy and there was a million things swimming within them that Beca had only dreamt about seeing half of. And just when she thought she was used to all the ways Chloe could make her feel...

Clear music erupted from the door behind them. Chloe pulled away, turning away from whoever it was that interrupted them and regaining her composure.

“Beca! We’ve been looking everywhere for you; we need you for the speech,” Theo said, his British accent grating Beca’s neck moreso than usual, “Come on, you’re already late.”

“Two seconds. Just two, I’ll be with you soon. Just... tell them I’m coming.” “We can’t, Beca, we’re already running late,” he replied, holding the door open. “Dude, I was having a moment!” she near yelled and she heard a chuckle from the side of her. She turned to Chloe.

“You should go. I’ll be fine. Don’t want to keep them waiting any more, Miss Hotshot Artist,” the redhead said, eyes twinkling still but the smile she offered not quite reaching them.

“I don’t care. They can wait, but you can’t. I won’t make you,” Beca whispered, even over the music, so that only they could hear. And she cupped the bottom of Chloe’s jaw, thumbs stroking damp cheeks before pulling her close and pressing lips together. And Chloe? Chloe was everything Beca had imagined her to be. Soft, gentle, perfect. Her perfume smelled divine. She could smell the sweet scent of her hair as it danced into her senses and enveloped her completely.

And before she knew it, Chloe’s arms were wrapped across her shoulders, the crook of her elbow pulling her body closer by the neck. They were pressed so close. So close like when they sleep but this time they were both so awake and vibrant and alive.

Chloe pulled away and Beca craved to follow but the redhead pressed delicate fingers against her lips, “You’ve done enough. I can wait ten more minutes. Go and knock ‘em dead, Becs.”

The brunette couldn’t be beaming brighter if she tried. She pressed a gentle kiss against Chloe’s fingers and pulled away, making her way to the door. She didn’t escape without a pat on the ass from the redhead, though.

And whatever the rest of this chapter had, Beca thought, it was going to even more brilliant.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fanfiction #pitch perfect #prompt #this is kind of old but im like #super happy with it #writing #my writing #our little universes

46 notes · View notes