#her mom sits her down weekly to inform her

[ksukiii]

drummer bakugou x fem reader | basically ur jirous sister and you catch his eye. not proofread. btw this is really long

bakugou concluded his weekly band rehearsal. like always, it was held in jirous garage. he looked around “where the hell did i put them?” the drummer grumbled, sitting down in his chair as he rustled in his pocket, looking for his keys. he ran a hand through his spiky hair, averting his gaze to the sound of jirous voice. “practice went well yeah?” she said, gazing at the drum stick he was toying with between his fingers. bakugou grunted “yeah it did. we’re closer to perfecting our set.”jirou chuckled lightly, her eyes flickering to the drumstick once more. In a playful gesture, she attempted to grab it, but he quickly snatched it away before she could "You should let me play with that sometime," she teased, a mischievous smile on her lips bakugou huffed, raising an eyebrow at her attempted grab. “like i’d let you break my precious drumsticks, earphones.” he retorted, waving the stick in her face. jirou feigned a pout, her hands on her hips. "hey, I'm careful with my guitar, aren't i? i wouldn't break your drumsticks," she protested, a hint of hurt in her voice. but she knew it was all in good fun. he hears the door open a girl with the same colored hair as jirou entering. “hey mom says-“ bakugous head shot up at the sound of a voice. his eyes landed on the newcomer, taking in the similar hair color and the slight resemblance you had to jirou. he raised an eyebrow. “hey who are you?”

waiting for your response, he took in your appearance. you looked relatively the same age as jirou, maybe a year or two younger or older. he noticed the headphones in your ears. his gaze lingered on your headphones for a half a second longer before speaking up once more. “who the hell are you to jirou?” you furrowed your brows slightly. “uh her sister? and who are you?” bakugous eyes widened slightly. i mixture of surprise and confusion on his crossing his face. he hadn’t known jirou had a sister, but then again she only talked about music. he took a moment to repsond before speaking up. “katsuki bakugou.” a hint of pride in his voice. “oh. i know you.” you say bluntly. bakugous eyes shot up in surprise, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “you know me? how?” he asked, his tone gruff but a hint of intrigue. “she talks about you a lot.” you say. now his curiosity had fully piqued. this was new information. jirou has been talking about him? “she talks about me a lot huh?” he repeated your words, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. he ran a hand through his hair, a bit flattered. “what’s she say about me?” he asks curiously. “that your loud.” he rolled his eyes at that. he was well aware of that trait. he crossed his arms. “tch. that’s all he says?” he says, a tiny bit of him hoping there was more. “basically.” you turn to your sister. “mom says your friends can stay for dinner.” he raised his eyebrows. “your mom says we can stay for dinner?” he repeated, a little taken back. “mhm. dinner will be ready in like 10.” you say to them both, walking back into the house, closing the garage door. he returned his gaze back to jirou. “you’re sister is something else,” he commented. referring to your straightforwardness. jirou chuckled lightly at his observation. “yeah she has a way with her words.” she replied. “cmon. let’s head inside.” bakugou nodded and began approaching the door. as they approached the house, jirou broke the silence. “try not to be too loud. my family isn’t used to your…enthusiasm. you know.” bakugou feigned a look of offense. “please earphones. i can be quiet when i need to be.” he protested.

as they stepped inside, bakugous gaze flicked around at the inside of the house. he had never been inside jirous home before, and he was surprised by the coziness of it. he followed jirou into the kitchen where the aroma of dinner filled the air, making his stomach grumble softly in anticipation. his eyes paused on you. sitting at a barstool, headphones still in your ears as you mindlessly tapped on your phone. he noticed how the warm lighting made your features pop, enhancing them. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. jirou noticed the way bakugou was looking at you. she could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he observed you. a smirk tugged at her lips as she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “you’re staring,” she teased in a whisper, trying to catch his attention. bakugou tore his gaze away from you, shooting jirou a sideways glare. "shut up," he grumbled, though there was no real bite to his words. he shifted his weight, leaning back against the counter once more, stealing another quick glance at you. jirous mom entered the kitchen and shot them both a smile. “dinners ready!” he saw the chair you were pulling out, nonchalantly pulling out the one next you you and sitting down. he leaned back, crossing his cane over his chest and extended his leg under the table, his thigh lightly brushing against yours. he pretended to be focused on filling his plate with food, but his mind was elsewhere. his leg remained lightly touching yours under the table, almost as if seeking contact. he took a bite of the food, letting out a satisfied hum. "this is good," he commented, his tone neutral, eyes shifting back to you for a moment. you had an airpod in. every once in awhile subtly skipping the songs under the table. bakugou couldn’t help but notice the subtle movements you made under the table, catching glimpses of you changing the songs on your airpods every now and then. He knew you probably didn’t want him to pry, but his curiosity was piqued. he wanted to know what kind of music you listened to, if you listened to any of his band’s songs. as he ate, he subtly tried to catch a glimpse of your airpods, trying to figure out the names of the songs you were switching between. bakugou noticed the shift in conversation, but he couldn’t shake off the curiosity that had taken hold of him. he tried to focus on jirous questions about the band, answering them with his usual attitude, but his mind kept going back to the songs that you were playing. as the dinner began to wind down, he leaned back in his chair, his leg still resting against yours under the table. he stole another glance at you, his expression a mix of fascination and frustration. you noticed his gazes at you airpods and phone. you sighed, pulled out your airpod case and extended the one your weren’t using under the table. he gave you look, before reluctantly taking it and placing it in his ear. after a few minutes, he could sorta see what you were into, he was surprised. he guessed that it would be boring, but the various changes in genres provided a nice contrast. as the dinner came to an end, he helped clear the table, airpod still in his left ear, his mind only thinking about the music playing into his head. on occasion he softly hummed, or bobbed his head to the song.

abruptly, you stood up from the couch and announced you were going for a walk. he follwoed your parents gaze, watching them give you a nod. they didn’t seem too concerned, probably assuming you needed some fresh air. bakugou grumbled lightly, knowing he would have to wait until he knew more about you, he sorta hated how intrigued he was with jirous random sister he met today. jirou, enjoying the scence and how restless he was, couldn’t help but find it slightly amusing. he watched your backside as you left, noticing how before you opened the door, you turned and met your eyes with his. you have him a light smile and nodded your head over the the door. bakugou followed your subtle nod to the door, knowing full well you were silently inviting him to accompany you on your walk. he tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, but he couldn’t help the flicker of excitement in his eyes. he quickly made a shitty excuse to jirous parents, something about needing some air too. he shout jirou a quick glare, knowing damn well she knew his intentions. jirou fought back a chuckle as he watched him eagerly walk to the door behind you. he then thought about the many things that could happen. for some reason, he needed to know more about you. he was practically buzzing as he made his way to the door, opening it, seeing you standing at then end of the steps on your phone. you gave him a light smile. “hey.”

a/n: i doubt people will actually read all of this but i’ll make a part two anyway. also first time actually writing somethin, hope it isn’t terrible. hope u enjoyed this lol

pt.2: i’m rereading this i’m so sorry why can’t i spell i’ve counted 6 errors in one paragraph what the heck

[bonearenaofmyskull]

Hey sooo sorry that this is irrelevant to Hannibal. Its about this youtube guy you said in one of your old old posts that you enjoyed. He is a bearded ginger guy that sits in front of the wooden wall of a warehouse with shelf talking about politics? Usually wears a hat. Usually his view is around 15-30k i think and he uploads daily.

for some reason I don’t know why i kept remembering him as Shia Labeouf??? And his youtube channel name is 4 words.

thanks to you i discovered his channel but i got uninterested so I unsubscribed, but now in my wee 5.30-6 am sleepless hour i suddenly missed him and was tryna search so hard but you know how that goes looking at my description

thank yew

It's Beau of the Fifth Column, and for the record I NEVER would have associated him with Shia Labeouf. I recommend his channel and the partner channel The Roads with Beau for anyone who wants non-sensationalized, realistic reporting, with a leftist bent, of foreign affairs, domestic affairs, climate change, science news, and occasional pop culture news insofar as it overlaps with one of the other categories. They also do occasional personal advice and are a good internet mom and dad for especially queer kids who need that. And they do charity work, give survival advice and tips whenever there is an ongoing weather event that is potentially life-threatening, and weekly q-and-a.

I'm referring to them as a partnership because Beau has left his position running the channels in the last week and turned it over to his wife because he is a workaholic, and it was affecting his health, charity work, and family. Other than them dropping one of their daily videos from the agenda and his wife (going by "Belle"--"Beau" was also a pseudonym) still being in that stage of finding her voice and comfortability in front of the camera, I haven't seen too much of a change in the quality of their commentary, though the jury is still out on that IMO--she seems a bit spicier than Beau but is still working control the nerves and be natural, and I'm not sure she's quite there with the way he would lay out his reasoning and show it coming around to his conclusions, though I don't think the conclusions themselves have changed in any significant way. It'll be really tested when they cover more foreign affairs because that was where Beau really shined, and it's my understanding he is really NOT involved in the channel at all anymore in any way, at least for the time being. Coverage has been very US election-focused since Belle took over.

My strongest general recommendation would to go back and watch every single video, in order, that Beau made about Gaza in order to understand why things have gone the way they've gone and why the US has made the moves they've made, and why other countries that are nominally pro-Palestine have done some of the things that they've done as well. That includes this dumb-it-down whiteboard video from last year. Most people will find him reporting things that they don't like for one reason or other--hell, he reports things HE doesn't like about the way the foreign policy system works and will occasionally remind audiences of that as well--but it will explain where and why morality fails to gain traction when there is a question of power, and how that limits steps that are taken, how it informs public positions taken on the world stage versus what is happening behind the scenes with actions taken, etc.

Beau's organizational and labeling system for finding topics of interest is an absolute nightmare--even worse than mine--so I'd just recommend browsing in chronological order for likely topics if you're going back through historical stuff.

They're southerners and they drawl and if you're into hyperspeed internet videos you'll have to adapt your brain to want to watch their stuff. Over time you should get used to the pacing, and I eventually found it soothing. Beau is one of those rare individuals that I could regularly expect to have insights and perspectives and thoughts that I wouldn't have had, and he could change the way I view something. There aren't that many people that I run into in life that have that ability, so this was a rare gift for me.

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Hello I hate doing this.

Midway January of this year, I was living with four other people who were in entangled in their own issues and it would get to the point where I felt unsafe. I had called my parents, who I haven’t spoken to in over six years, begging them to allow me to move in and which they gave me a list of rules and I gladly accepted them. They had my third oldest brother drive back home since I do not have my license and once we arrived, we went out for drinks and once we came back, he berated me for over an hour bringing me to tears. Basically saying that I was just a lazy, spoiled child who wanted everything and that wasn’t the case, I just wanted a family that would actually listen to me.

While I was staying with my parents, it took me over a month to find a job and it was the heb 30 minutes away from me and I was excited because I’ve worked at heb before, but it was part time so I was typically working on two to three days a week. That’s just how grocery stores work, but fast forward a couple of weeks later and my mom is in a major accident, flipping her car and breaking her spine along with major damages to herself. At that point, my father knew he couldn’t help me anymore and my second oldest brother offered that I moved in with him. But prior to the accident, my father and I spoke about how I would need to help them in the future, claiming that I would have to be their caregiver which I told him that wouldn’t be the case because I do not plan on staying here forever. I only wanted to get my license and save up for another apartment.

So I got transfer to an heb closer to my brother’s job after a month of silence. During that month I was off, my brother and I came to the agreement that I would pay him 250 for the rent, which I agreed to. He also stated about gas money which I assumed that would be included into the rent. Until it wasn’t, his girlfriend had texted me last week asking when I can pay them their gas money back and I had asked her, why? I already paid y’all 250 for the month and that’s when I was informed that gas money wasn’t included and each trip would be 5 dollars but here’s the catch, if my second oldest brother had to leave the house. It would count as one trip and the trip back was another 5 dollars and I told her that I feel like you’re taking advantage of me because I get paid weekly and at this point I was trying to reduce my debts and I was able to finally get groceries for once. Groceries take a massive chunk of my money because what I do is absolutely energy draining and I go through food like it’s nothing. It lead us to getting into a massive argument and I told him that it’s not right and that since he doesn’t want to teach me how to drive the end of his bargain is useless. Driving school for an adult is close to a grand, I already have bad driving anxiety and this wasn’t helping me. I also asked him if I wanted to be taught how to drive, would you charge me gas money and he said yes. I wouldn’t win in this situation, so I was like I’m gonna cool off and then we’ll talk more and then this man texted me saying that I would need to pay an additional 65 dollars because his girlfriend’s mom will not pay for the WiFi anymore and that’s 130 dollars.

I told him give me until the 15th of May to find another place to live because I’m not gonna sit here and allow you to take advantage of me. He had also mentioned off handed that once I did get my license, I would put him and his girlfriend on my insurance because they’re not legal anymore. Both of them have no licenses and got into wrecks beforehand. I have two options, I can rent out an Airbnb for a couple of months or I can put a deposit down on a room. I truly don’t expect much help, but even sharing this would make me happy. I want to be able to write again without the fear of being homeless because my second oldest brother just takes and takes until you’re nothing in his eyes. This situation has caused me to slip back into harmful ideology and I’ve already attempted once and I would like to avoid it again. There’s a room close to my job that’s cost in total 1100 for the deposit and first month’s rent. You don’t have to donate just reblog and thank you so much

[insipid-drivel]

Having DID/OSDD can be very strange as much as it can be very interesting. We use this button, which has dry-erase paint on it and a marker to go with it, to ID ourselves when someone else is in front. We needed this button yesterday.

My mom just turned 66 and needed to go in for a breast biopsy after her yearly physical showed some anomalous sparkles on a scan. There’s literally a 90% likelihood she’s fine, but it triggered me like a baseball bat to an unsuspecting mailbox. My dad fought cancer for my entire teenage years until he passed away when I was almost 17 of an HIV-related infection. It isn’t the sort of trauma that tears and claws at me on a regular basis, but I broke down hard when my mom came home after the test and announced it would be a few days before the results came back. We were sitting down to eat together, and the meltdown first manifested when I couldn’t bring myself to swallow anything. Trauma sucks like that.

When I get that triggered that suddenly, it’s scary and bewildering. 2 years ago or more, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, and I would’ve felt very alone in my own head. I didn’t know I had DID until 2 years ago when the characters in my books stopped being characters and revealed that they’d always been with me, and that my writing was the safest way they could talk to and interact with me. The eldest of them all, Cassandra, didn’t want me to be diagnosed until well into my adult life so I would have full control over how it was treated rather than a parent or guardian and doctors running on very poor research that could’ve caused more harm than good.

Marchosias took over all of yesterday afternoon and well into the night. He doesn’t usually like to spend much time in front, but a meltdown hit me quite literally in the middle of staring at my plate of dinner. He used to be an alter I was afraid of; we didn’t get along or understand each other, mostly because we didn’t know how to communicate. Marchosias processes trauma with anger; he’s gruff and has such a distinct voice that my mother doesn’t need any announcement to tell it’s him talking. I used to think he was a demon, because if you google his name, that’s what you’ll find, but now that we’ve learned to communicate with each other, he’s one of my toughest and most resilient guardians.

DID/OSDD doesn’t have to be a nightmare sentence of stigma and awfulness. I got triggered yesterday, and reached for Marchosias to help, because I needed not to be “here” for a while. He wrote his name on the button and pinned it on our shirt, wiped tears off my face as they evaporated like magic, and ate my dinner for me while reassuring my family I’d be okay and that the fries needed salt. When asked if he was nervous, he shrugged and said, “No. I understand statistics. 90% means you’re fine. 10% means your insurance covers a breast augmentation.” He then pulled out my tablet and loaded a webpage for a tattoo shop not far from where we lived. “These guys tattoo mastectomy scars for free.”

They spent the rest of dinner talking over potential tattoo ideas while I was in a dreamworld where there were 7 moons and a man who looked like mercury come to life with a love for expensive whiskey and strawberries talked to me about how infinity ran in every direction. He reassured me my mom was fine because he’d “put in an information request with the right people.” I shrugged it off and admired the snowflakes sparkling. My alters are very good at putting me in literal headspaces that are too pretty for me to continue to be upset in.

Marchosias made sure my teeth were brushed before bed. He made sure to brush my hair, and even refilled my weekly pill organizer for me, because it was the day for that and I was too upset to do it. He kept drinking water for me, took a bath for me, and got me to bed on time with everything organized and a message on my computer screen telling me that he’d taken the memories away, but everything else was taken care of.

When I greeted my mom the next morning, she simply said she wished she could “bottle some of that”, because she was envious of the instantaneous relief that came from switching with Marchosias. Marchosias wrote a note to her to explain that he wouldn’t do it very frequently, because the more episodes of amnesia I had, the more dependent I would be on help to stay oriented in the right time and place. “We have stringent standards and checks and balances to go by,” he said with authority. “The disorientation:relief ratio has to be distinctly beneficial. We have to deal with the ramifications of our own bullshit, you know.”

Waking up always feels a little like waking up in a patient recovery room with your loved ones just outside the door talking to the doctor. In my case, his name is Alex and he was responsible for making sure my medications were organized and counted out properly. While it was me again, I still felt someone behind me, and found that Marchosias had made a convincing pile of blankets and cushions for me to imagine was him.

Remember that a lot of these disorders are survival mechanisms. Mine won’t let me forget it, and I have a dry-erase button to prove it.

[weve-en-moa]

Fallen | 6. The Memories

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,337

Previous | Masterlist | Next

A part of you knew that it was inevitable that you would return to your hometown at some point in your life. You just didn’t expect it to happen the way it did.

You focused on student athletes in university for the first two years of running your blog. It was a success, but you also felt that it was becoming repetitive, and you wanted to do something more. When Jungwon suggested to come down to your hometown and check out some of the high school athletes that trained at the dojang he worked at, you were excited for a potential new story.

But you also remembered that your hometown was the one place you no longer wanted to go back to.

Now in his fourth year of studies, Jake was on clinical rotations and barely had any time to sleep. So you made the journey home by yourself, letting your dad know that you would be home for a month, and setting up interviews at other schools in the area.

After setting all your bags down in your old room, the first thing you did was visit your mother’s grave. You wondered if anyone had visited since your brother went off to college, and you were caught by surprise when there were fresh flowers sitting on her grave.

There was something oddly familiar about the flowers, but you didn’t know why, and you had a sense of deja vu of the summer after your first year.

You put down the flower that you brought for her next to the ones already there, sitting down on the grass.

“Hi mom, I’m sorry I’m late.”

You spent about three hours just relaying the last six years of your life to your mom, how you found your passion in sports journalism, your engagement, and everything in between. You were so lost in your stories that you didn’t notice the tall dark figure hiding behind a tree only a few feet away from you. And you wouldn’t find out for at least another few years.

Your first few days back home were busy, scouting new athletes with Jungwon’s help, and setting a plan for where their stories might find a place on your blog. You were also ensuring that your actual job wasn’t being neglected, constantly checking news in the area and keeping an eye on your email and phone.

When you weren’t meeting different athletes, you spent time at Jay’s cafe, which he opened after returning from his year abroad.

“Did you know Jake used to drag us fishing every weekend when we first became friends?” Jay asked you one particularly quiet day, while handing you an iced latte.

You took a moment to digest that information, “I didn’t even know he liked fishing.”

Jay looked surprised at the information you gave him, while you were surprised by his information. You waved it off thinking maybe his interests had changed throughout the years, as most peoples’ do.

When you returned home, you only had about a week before Jake left for his externship in Australia for six weeks. Not that the week mattered, as Jake had messed up his planning and was on rotations until the day before his flight, and you were in the office, in and out of meetings in between finalizing your editorials.

You could feel that your relationship was starting to crumble, but you didn’t want to accept it. Since getting engaged, you had no time to spend together. You had your bi-weekly dates at the beginning of your engagement, but over time, it became forgotten about, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you had more than 10 minutes of waking time together. On top of that, fishing wasn’t the only information Jay had shared that you weren’t aware of, making you question many parts of your relationship.

And now that you had stayed apart for nearly eleven weeks, including the week that you were technically in the same house, just not at the same time, you started to question your feelings.

Even if you had been together as long as you had, you didn’t think it was normal to not feel empty from being apart from your partner for several weeks.

And on your first Christmas as an engaged couple, you had your first major fight.

“I just think I should’ve known that you were hoping to stay permanently after your externship,” you tried to explain diplomatically.

To his credit, Jake tried to calmly explain his perspective, “I thought you would have known when I told you that I was planning on completing international externships.”

“We’re supposed to be getting married, Jake. Shouldn’t I be included in the conversation if you’re planning to move halfway across the world?”

“I didn’t know they would offer me the job. I didn’t want to have a conversation around something that wasn’t even certain yet.”

And to an extent, you understood his perspective, not wanting to worry each other unnecessarily, or to enter into panic mode for something that hadn’t even happened yet.

The two of you avoided the topic for weeks, which eventually turned into months. The conversations between the two of you became limited, and on many days, your only exchange was a simple “Have a nice day”.

It was inevitable what ended up happening.

In July, your eight year long relationship came to an end, and you didn’t know how to explain the emotion you felt. You didn’t feel sad or nostalgic or even melancholic like you had when your friendship with Sunghoon ended, but almost indifferent to the situation. It was like the fire had burnt out, leaving behind nothing in its wake.

Jake left your shared apartment first, heading to Australia three weeks earlier than he had initially planned, claiming that he wanted to get settled in before he officially starts, though you were fully aware that his initial move-in date would allow him one week for jet lag, moving and anything else he might need before starting.

In two week’s time, it was your turn to leave, standing at the door with your last suitcase, your phone in your hand as you stared at Jake’s contact information, debating whether to send your last words or not.

In the end, you decided not to send your final message, like all the other times that you deleted the exact same sentence, albeit it was to a different person this time.

“If I knew that you would slip away so easily, I would never have let you go.”

You deleted the text, turned your phone off and walked out the door, not once looking back as you made your way to your new journey.

  3 Years Later…

If anyone had asked ten years ago if you would ever return permanently to your hometown, you would’ve said no.

But standing in front of your childhood home that had been empty for the past year since your father moved into a smaller apartment, you felt at home, even though you hadn’t considered this place your home for quite a few years now.

Though the house was completely void of any furniture and had collected dust over the months, it felt like home.

Jungwon, Sunoo and Niki had offered to help you move back in, and Hyeseul even came down to help you map out the furniture. After graduation, Hyeseul had found a new passion in interior design and became successful pretty quickly.

Your brother and his finacé even visited, and you ran into the biggest surprise of your life while showing your soon to be brother-in-law around your hometown.

You weren’t sure who was more shocked: Sunghoon or you, as you stood in front of each other at the graveyard, a baby in Sunghoon’s arms, and your brother’s fiancé by your side with a hand on your shoulder.

The two of you stared at each other in complete silence as the world spun around you, and everything other than each other disappeared from your minds.

[miramilocamimira]

I am my own home C4

For A Girl Unwanted

—-

Dolores has always been a smart girl. After all, she was only four when she realized why her mom didn’t treat her like Tía treated Isabela.

Mami didn’t want a baby.

She cries at night and it feels wrong.

-

When she turned five her hearing became her gift. She knew whatever people spoke. And soon she learned there were sounds she had to pretend never happened too.

A month after getting her gift, Abuela brought her to her room. Had her sit down, and told Dolores that she was to tell her Abuela about anything and everything that happened in the town.

It felt wrong.

-

When she and Isabela are six Dolores gets a brother. She teased Isa about it until after Isa got another sister.

As time goes on, she pretends she doesn’t see her mother and father dote on her brother. She pretends the resentment isn’t there.

She tells Abuela everything about the town.

It feels wrong right.

-

She is eight when abuela loses her respect. The elder had left her two year old cousin at the Guzmán’s and later as she listens in as her aunt and uncle argue with her grandmother, the woman did it on purpose.

“That… thing… does not belong here! It makes strange things happen! It’s eyes changed colors, Julieta!”

She pretends she never heard it. But a strange feeling washes over her. Abuela doesn’t want Mirabel just like Mami doesn’t want her.

From then on she always has an ear out for Mirabel.

When abuela brings her for their weekly chat, she picks and chooses what to tell her.

Abuela doesn’t notice.

It feels right.

-

As years pass Mirabel gets closer with the Guzmáns and she gets an ugly feeling.

How dare they take more of Mirabel’s time. She is a wonder. She is perfect.

Mirabel always has a smile and treats Dolores kindly. Mirabel after understanding Dolores’ ability doesn’t start being quieter but instead babbles about her day and random things whenever the younger alone.

When they meet up again Mirabel asks if Dolores liked her stories.

Dolores always does.

Bruno gives her a vision. They are both shocked at what it shows and he says to never tell “Abuela.”

Said that he, too, had a problematic vision.

But even before this she vowed she’d never tell Alma anything about Mirabel.

She keeps the vision hidden and Isabela only knows it involves her youngest sister.

She meets with Alma as usual.

It feels right.

-

Whenever she sees Mariano with Mirabel her eyes feel hazy and she wants him to go away. Whenever she hears him call out to Mirabel or talk in general, too.

And whenever she can she takes Mirabel away from him and they talk.

“I love you most Dolores!” The younger says and Dolores hugs her tight.

Being loved the most….

It feels right.

-

The day before her uncle disappeared, she figured out Mariano wasn’t going to ruin anything. After all, with her uncle’s shattered vision in her hands she can see who he would grow to chase after as well.

After he left, Dolores works with Mariano. Together they keep Mirabel safe and work hard to ensure she’s loved.

Camilo already stole their parents love. He didn’t need to steal the magic too.

Her heart feels heavy.

Her uncle hides to keep her Mirabel safe.

It feels right wrong.

-

Her mother gets pregnant again as well. She tells Mariano. After all, she knows that if he’s half as persistent as he is at keeping Mirabel safe, he’ll be family in no time.

He and Mirabel take the new baby in as well.

She still meets with Alma. She hides information about Mirabel and Isabela.

She deals with Sophia herself. After all, her cousin and best friend had a girlfriend she’s kept hidden for good reason.

-

More time passes and Antonio turns five. She does the usual routine of finding Mirabel halfway through, since Antonio came, and spending the party with her.

Mirabel giggles and talks to her like usual and all Dolores can think is how much she wants to kiss the younger.

She stops. She excuses herself and rushes away.

Why had she thought that?

She keeps walking when she crashes into someone.

“Ah! I’m sorry I wasn’t-.” She stops.

Camilo.

-

The candle hurts. It cries in its own way and as two siblings re-meet in a crash, it shows it’s cracks.

——

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[macy-clough]

My journal and reading experience 

When I was 10 my mom bought me a secret password diary that I quickly became obsessed with and from then on I started trying to journal every night if not then every other night. I find journaling to be one of the best ways to keep your memory sharp and decompress your day by venting whatever you need to get out. When I sit down to journal I try to set myself in a ‘safe’ place that is calm and quiet. This place typically is in my bed at night or outside sitting in nature. I definitely would lean towards being outdoors and in nature as it is the most peaceful for me. 

When I get my journal out I never set a limit for myself on time I just write as long as feels necessary at the moment. I first start off by writing very basic things such as what I did in the day, what I ate, who I saw, and things along that line. Then I move on to feelings that I am experiencing and try to understand all of them and what they mean to me and my personal well being. Another thing that I write on weekly at-least is my future ambitions and goals. By this I mean I quite literally write out what I want my future to look like and what I want to be in my future. I found this form of writing, manifestation, to be very helpful for me in keeping on track for my goals and actually achieving them. Most of my journals since I have started have been centered around my dancing and my experiences along with it. So dance definitely is one of my safe places on and off the page. 

By starting this type of writing at such a young age I have become very accustomed to writing for myself personally and I still do find myself struggling to express myself in this way in a class or public setting. I think this came from the feeling that I was getting a grade and that caused me to over think and hyper stress about my writing and wouldn’t let myself feel explored into discussions as I do in my journals. Writing and expressing my emotions through my journal has caused me to come very aware of my feelings and why I am feeling them. It also helped me just fall more in love with words on pages. I can get lost in books for hours before even realizing that I have not looked up in multiple hours. I became fascinated by reading because I loved learning new things and stories. When I read I lose sense of this reality and feel almost transported into whatever story I am reading.

 Growing up I read everything from Harry Potter to Huckleberry Finn and every single story captivated me in its own way. My style of reading has definitely narrowed down now that I am a bit older and I have found myself loving crime and romance novels. I recently have been on a role with my new favorite writer, Colleen Hoover. I first found her off of tik tok after I saw multiple videos of people reviewing her books and raving about them. Once I started reading her stories I was hooked and haven’t stopped yet. Last week I finished her book on November 9th which I highly recommended to anyone who likes romance novels. Her stories are told in a very real sense that makes you feel like you are there experiencing the feelings the characters are working through. When I read I NEED a physical copy to retain the information or story that I am reading. Something about holding the book and flipping the pages makes it so much more interesting and real feeling. I have tried to read on my iPad multiple times and I have even tried journaling on there for the convenience of it all being in one place and it would look a lot neater but it meant less to me when I wasn’t physically writing out my thoughts. With that I will say that more often than not we will have readings in class that are online articles that are chunks of writing that we can only access by link and websites online. I know that personally I struggle reading that and retaining the knowledge so typically if I am put in a situation like that I will read it once and then have my phone read it aloud to me again to make sure I am following and retain the information I need. 

I believe that technology has made so many stories and books accessible to anyone that has internet access but it also changed the way that people read. It takes a time that used to be ‘unplugged’ and quiet and makes it online, new, bright and shiny. Technology and social media has also brought so many more writers and books into the public eye to share these amazing stories with as many people as they can which is truly amazing. Being a common reader I will say that with every book my vocabulary, speed and accuracy of reading had all increased. This has helped my writing as it has inspired me to form a way of writing that I like reading, a very personal and raw style. It has also increased the amount of words that I use to write and express myself with. I think back to my original journal and how far I have come from that with just a few years of reading and growing along with my knowledge and vocabulary.

[t-h-i-n-g]

hii i hope you’re well! could i request a percy jackson x daughter of apollo reader where they’re long time best friends who both fell in love somewhere along the way, but neither has wanted to confess for fear of ruining the relationship or getting rejected?

Give It A Chance

a/n: percy jackson is 100% a swifty thats all im saying. does that have anything to do with the fic? no it doesn't i just have to put it out there lol. thanks for requesting!! i hope its okay that i made the not want to ruin what they have thing more one sided towards the reader. i hope you like it!!

word count: 1.2k

summary: he shouldn’t be staring at you like this. you shouldn’t even be in this position, literally. you both had so much to lose, he had to understand that.

warnings: light swearing, ?pining?, let me know if i missed any!

PJO/HOO - masterlist m.masterlist

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How did you even get here? Well if you wanted to be literal and go back to the beginning you could. So let's do that.

You and Percy were friends even before you knew that gods existed. Before the never ending terror of being attacked outside of camp became known. Before either of you knew who Grover was.

Having been forced to be friends since your parents were. Both of your moms would have wine nights weekly. Every Saturday from 5:00-9:00 to be exact. While they were giggling to each other about Brad Pitt, you and Percy would sit in each other's rooms doing anything that kept you entertained. One time you both filled up a room with bubbles. Well, that was in your bathroom not your bedroom. Both of your parent’s cooing at the soap in your hair and the bubble beards on your chin.

Once wine night was over he would walk with his mother back to their home. Having lived a block away. Hand in hand with his mom he would look over his shoulder to you. Hair still wet as he gave you a wave goodbye. Which you returned, sad he had to go but excited for the next weekend already.

Once a couple of years have passed, you grew old enough to go to Percy’s place without your mom's supervision. Her only request to ignore any one who talked to you. Including the man you looked like Santa except shirt-less. 

She did not like hearing that knock off Santa was talking to you when you did inform her…. Yeah, she didn’t let you out of the house that week. Once she did give you the permission, your walks to Percy’s never included seeing or talking to shirtless Santa again.

You met Grover when the both of you were in school. That’s when you found out the reason your father wasn’t present because he was a god….

Now you tell someone that and see how they react. You called bs denying, denying, turning your head in the other direction. It wasn’t until your mother told you it was true that you started to believe. What really was the icing on the cake was a fuLL ON BULL/DEVIL TRYING TO KILL YOU-

It was an emotional departure from your mother and Percy’s. But, it was for the best. They were more in danger with both of you around and you being in a monster free zone that they couldn’t enter….the answer was pretty clear.

From there on the two of you met other, as you know now, demigods. As well as Chiron. You fainted when you saw him in his centar form for the first time.

Over the course of the following years yours and Percy’s bond was pretty much the same if not it grew. However, you came to wish to see him more than a friend. But you couldn’t ruin what you already had. The two of you were inseparable. Always asking where the other was when not together. Checking up on each other. Of course there were arguments, but you learned to look past then. Always coming to a compromise. Making sure to never bring up the known tension between the two of you.

And all those actions still somehow lead you here. Percy pinning you down, sand from the beach making its way into your hair. Him staring at you with stars in his eyes, a smile adorning his face. A breathy laugh passed through his lips as he leaned in closer. Millimeters away from you. A little play fight being the influence for how you ended up.

You turned your head to the side, looking out to the open water. You heard Percy sigh, placing his forehead in the sand above your shoulder.

“Gods, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbled next to your ear. You turned back to look at him, however he plopped down onto the ground beside you. Accidentally pulling up some sand and getting it in your eye. You turned onto your side to face him. Taking a finger you wiped away the pesky rocks from your vision.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you stated, peering down at him. He chuckled sarcastically.

“Yeah, sure.” Silence passed over the both of you. Before Percy decided to prop himself up onto his elbows. “I’m gonna talk about it-” he was cut off by your groan. It was your turn to lay onto your back.

“Please don’t,” you murmured to him.

“You can’t keep doing me like this, Y/n,” Percy stated, looking at you. Your hands covered your face. “I know you think it’ll ruin everything-”

“I know it’s going to ruin everything, Percy,” your voice muffled. “We have such a good thing going now. What if it doesn’t go the way you think it will and we want to not be together. Things won’t be the same after that.” “Y/n, you and I both know I want you,” Percy's voice was soft but stern. He sat up fully, taking your hands away from your face. “You wanna know when I realized?” You waited for him to continue. Fidgeting with his fingers that still held yours, looking away. “When your dad’s sign showed up above your head. Your smile was so bright; you were so excited that Apollo was your dad. Honestly I’m pretty sure you were actually more excited to get out of the Hermes cabin than anything.” You let out a laugh, looking up at him.

“It frickin stunk in there,” you defended. It was his turn to chuckle. He pulled on your hands signaling you to sit up. You did, staring into his eyes, pondering your next move. 

“That was when I just knew,” Percy continued, “You were the one I want. We’ve been through hell and back, Y/n. Doesn’t that at least tell you something? I know you feel the same way so why can’t you just give in? What’s the worst that can happen?” you opened your mouth, he cut you off, answering for you, “It doesn’t work out. Okay, sure maybe that’s a possibility but we’ve been through worse. If it doesn’t work out we’ll just continue what we’re doing now, have a laugh about it, whatever. Just give it a shot, Y/n. After everything we've been through, you can at least give me that.”

You gazed into his eyes. Showing the wanting and eagerness in them. You bit your lip, fighting a mental battle in your head.

“If this doesn’t work out you owe me a hundred bucks.” His face lit up.

“And what happens if it does?” he asked. You pondered the question.

“We’ll see, Jackson,” you remarked. The smile on his face continued to grow as he came closer.

“This means I can kiss you now and you won’t dodge me, right?” he questioned.

 As his lips grew closer to yours , you smiled lightly.

“We’ll see, Jackson,” you stated again in a whisper. Without a second to lose his mouth flew to yours. You cupped his face as he once again took his place above you. A hand on your waist while the other held him up.

He was right, you would just have to see where the road ahead takes you. In the end he would be next to you every step of the way.

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likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[mackenzielovee]

ambivalence part ten: numb to the feeling - rafe cameron

a/n: i know, i know i said a break. but i forgot i already had this done. hope you enjoy xoxo let me know your thoughts! also i couldn’t do my tag list sorry - i don’t have my laptop with me

Summary: Things get better, and then they get worse.

Warnings: arguing, mentions of drugs, sexual innuendos

series masterlist

my writing

The week passes fast; a combination of making out with Rafe in his truck after your shifts and texting him all day while he works and you go to school. Topper teases you relentlessly at school every time he sees Rafe's name pop up on your phone, but you just whack him on the back of his head the same way Rafe has done to him millions of times.

Your mom had informed your dad of your relationship with Rafe, and because he never found out about the drama from the wedding, he seemed as thrilled as a father could be.

Which is how, on Thursday night, you notice that your dad's handshake is a bit firmer when Rafe steps in, and how both men puff out their chest slightly as they speak. Rafe looks more tense to you than usual, and it doesn't fade when he hugs your mom. By the time he reaches you, he practically collapses into you, letting your scent and touch relax him.

"I think your dad just broke my fucking hand," he mutters into your ear, twirling your hair around his finger as he squeezes.

"He likes you," you reply back, smile threatening your lips.

"I'd hate to see what he does to the guys he doesn't like."

You laugh in his ear, pulling back to peck him before anyone can notice. He smiles as you watch him glance behind you and make sure your dad is still occupied. Your mom calls for everyone to gather in the dining room, and you try to contain your lust-filled smile as Rafe leads you in by setting his hand on your back.

The entire meal, you and Rafe steal touches, glances, and everything in between. You really believe you could not be happier, feeling as if everything is finally settling in place. You have a new weekly routine, a new anniversary, a new boyfriend.

"Hey," Rafe mutters over your head to Scott, earning your brothers attention, "How you doin', man?"

"Good, brother," Scott replies, "Let me know if there's anything I can do to pay you back for..."

He trails off, insinuating he means the fact that Rafe stopped him from full on fist-fighting John B in the middle of a wedding reception. Rafe snickers at him, subconsciously rubbing his pointer finger across the back of your shoulder.

"Consider us even. For the tree house," Rafe says quietly.

It earns a laugh from both you and Scott, which makes your heart swell. You'd think by now, you'd be used to something always ruining it.

"So, Rafe," your dad's booming voice stops all conversation.

Rafe swallows, yanking his fingers off of your shoulder but keeping his arm around your chair. It makes him feel brave, even though your dad doesn't notice.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you feeling prepared for the Bahamas?"

Your eyes flicker from your plate to your father, furrowing your eyebrows as if to silently ask him if he's mistaken. Rafe coughs awkwardly beside you, and you pretend not to notice when he finally extracts his arm from around the back of your chair.

When you look over at your boyfriend, he's taking his time wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

"Yes, sir," his voice is quiet, "The clients down there certainly like their golf."

Your mouth runs dry, trying to figure out what all this discussion is about. Rafe hadn't so much as even mentioned the Bahamas in any sense to you, ever.

"Better clean your clubs before you head down. They'll have you out on the course every Sunday."

Rafe chokes out a smile, while you cough, earning the attention of almost everyone at the table, "Every Sunday?"

You watch Sarah perk up out of the corner of your eye, sitting up straight in her chair as she senses the tension striking up. You really feel like you could reach across the table and bitch slap her if it weren't for the trouble you'd get into. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't look down at you.

"It'll be great experience for you, if you plan to head up Cameron Development one day," your dad continues, ignoring you.

"Yes, sir," he agrees weakly.

"I'm sorry," you hold your hand up, taking note of how silent Ward is being, "Can we just, like, clarify for a moment?"

Apparently, Ward takes this opportunity to speak up, "Y/N, Rafe has the opportunity to go down to our firm in the Bahamas to meet with some clients down there. Very rich clients. It's a lot to trust him with, but he can handle it, can't you, son?"

"Yes, sir."

You want to scream at him and ask if he's capable of saying anything else.

"That's wonderful," you barely recognize your own voice, "I hadn't heard."

"I'm sure he planned to discuss it with you," Ward waves you off, "It'll only be a month."

Rafe groans quietly beside you, throwing his napkin down on the table beside his plate as a way of signaling that he's finished eating. You feel your blood run cold, and you swear you stop breathing for a second.

"A month," you repeat.

You feel him finally look over at you, but you don't bother looking up. You mimic his actions and set your napkin on the table as well, placing it instead of throwing it the way he did.

"When does this month start, Rafe?" you ask, turning your head and noting his clenched jaw.

Sarah snickers, and his eyes flick to her for a moment before settling on the lit taper candle in the middle of the table, "Monday."

"Monday," you repeat once again, "That's great. You must be proud, Mr. Cameron."

Ward nods awkwardly at you, noting the tone in your voice and assuming there is an alternate meaning behind your words. Rafe practically growls next to you.

You inhale quickly, but regain your composure and glance at your mom. She's staring at you sympathetically, like she doesn't know what to say but knows you need something. You move your gaze down to your lap, anxiously starting to pick off the nail polish you had laid there two nights ago. Ironically, it was in preparation for this dinner.

"Would anyone mind if I spoke to Y/N in the kitchen for a minute?" Rafe asks politely, his eyes traveling around the table in search of objections.

"I would mind," you mutter, only loud enough that he could hear you.

"Please?" he says quietly, pushing his chair out and waiting for you to do the same.

You do it to save both of you from further embarrassment. Your mom smiles at you when you walk out, leaving a tense scene behind you at the table. Rafe turns and grabs ahold of your wrist, pulling you as far away from the door as you both can get.

"If you're going to yell, we should go outside," he says, sounding irritated with you, then immediately after, changes his mind, "Actually, let's do that."

You don't even have time to object before he leads you out by the pool. You wonder why in the hell he could be annoyed with you after what you just learned.

"You're acting like I did something wrong," you say dryly once he shuts the back door.

"You must be proud, Mr. Cameron," he grunts, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know, Rafe, I panicked when I didn't know anything."

He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair and completely messing it up, "Yeah."

"How could you not tell me about this?" you raise your voice, now thankful he made you go outside, "What, were you just going to leave without telling me, too?"

"Of course not," he says immediately, looking frustrated you would even suggest that.

"Well, then why?" you demand, trying to keep your voice lower.

"Look, I get why you're upset," he ignores when you laugh incredulously, "But, this is a great opportunity for me, I need you to try and understand that-"

"Please don't act like I don't appreciate how difficult your job is."

"I know you do, okay, babe, I just - things were - are, great with us. These past few days since the wedding have been... incredible. But, y'know, we were busy before that, and we've been busy after that, and every time I try to find the words, they don't come. And, honestly, I kind of wanted to back out. It's a lot of pressure and it means leaving us, and-"

"You need to go," you stop him, "It's important to you, and to your dad. And with the thin ice you're on right now, I don't think it's wise to push it."

Rafe nods, knowing you're right, "I should have told you."

"Yes," you agree, "You should have."

You cross your arms over your chest, not bothering to meet his eyes. You can tell by his stance and his tone that he just wants to hug you, but you don't want that right now. You rake over all the times you'd been sitting on his lap in his truck the past few days, ignoring and kissing him through his words every time he said he wanted to talk. But you'd never assumed it was about something like this.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, kicking the ground.

You stay quiet for a moment, then speak, "It's a month, Rafe."

"I know."

"That's four weeks."

"Yes."

"That I'll be here. Alone. Without you."

"Baby," he sighs, "I've really been trying not to think about that."

"I'm really trying not to be frustrated with you right now," you say, tone telling him that you're not playing.

"Why?"

"How could you let me get so comfortable seeing you every day, kissing you every day, and not drop this fucking A-bomb on me and at least warn me-"

"An atomic bomb?" he raises a brow, smirk threatening to grow.

"You know what I mean," you sigh, frustrated.

"I know that I fucked up, all right? I should have told you. I just hoped that, maybe, it would get cancelled or my dad would want to go instead-"

"And now we're fighting on my patio."

"Okay," he grunts, "Obviously, I didn't plan on it coming out like this. And I'm sorry, sweetheart. But, maybe I could send the jet back and you could come visit-"

"I have school."

"-on a weekend-"

"I have work."

"God, you're really not gonna make this easy," he mutters under his breath, growing shy when he sees your raised eyebrow and daring expression, "What do you want me to do, babe?"

You shake your head, not knowing how to answer that question. He has to go, you know that. You just wish he didn't.

"Let's just go finish dinner. We've been gone too long."

He runs another hand through his hair, frustrated at your response, "Fine."

He doesn't move, so you uncross your arms and let them drop to your sides, stepping toward the back door. Right before you pull the door open, he speaks again.

"Hey."

You turn, humming instead of speaking as if to ask what he needs.

"Can I come back after dinner and stay with you?"

You swallow, feeling your heart melt in your chest at his sweet question. You weigh your options, and finally settle on the conclusion neither of you think you're going to say.

"I don't wanna get used to sleeping with you if you're gonna leave. It'll just make it harder."

You turn back, twisting the knob and stepping inside, not bothering to wait on him to follow. As you pass through the kitchen, you hear his dress shoes shuffle onto the wood. You march into the dining room alone, anyway, settled completely by the time Rafe pulls his chair out beside you.

"Nice night, huh?" Sarah asks you with the raise of an eyebrow, an evil smirk on her face.

"Maybe you'd like to go stand in the middle of the road and see for yourself," Rafe mutters to her, earning a glare from Rose. He's lucky Ward didn't hear.

"Ouch," Sarah mumbles, giggling to herself.

"Bet it's an even nicer evening in the Bahamas," you mumble to Rafe, pettiness taking over.

"Come up with that one all by yourself?" he questions, glaring down at you.

"Pretty good for only knowing about this for five minutes," you remark back.

Rafe rolls his eyes, shaking his head, "Can you please not act like this?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you liked when I act like a bitch."

The fight takes place quietly, the only people noticing it are Sarah and your mom. Rafe's face drops completely at your words, and the expression on his face is pure hurt. You almost wish you could take it back, and you open your mouth to do just that, when he stands abruptly. His chair squeaks against the hard wood and startles half the table, but Rafe doesn't care.

"Excuse me," he mumbles to your mother, stalking off toward the guest bathroom.

You sit back in your seat and sigh, using your fork to push soggy lettuce around your plate. You know you should go after him, you just can't. Being fully aware you acted like a five year old, the guilt only rises.

Rafe doesn't come out of the bathroom for a while. Everyone finishes dinner and moves into the living room, but he never comes out. You wait approximately seven minutes after dinner for him to come out, and when he doesn't, you go up to your bedroom instead. After about an hour, you hear everyone start to say goodbye downstairs. You're surprised your mom doesn't make you come down to say goodbye, but you figure she heard the fight and feels bad for you.

You check your phone once you hear the front door close, but find nothing. The guilt rises in your throat, begging to be swallowed down again. You groan, rolling over on your bed and staring at the ceiling. Every word replays in your head, starting with the beginning of the night when you had been tangled in Rafe's arms and he'd been complaining about his hand.

How do things always end up so messy when they seem so simple?

You stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours, contemplating going over to the Cameron's. You're sure your parents would have something to say, and so would Rafe's parents, so you figure you might be better waiting until tomorrow. When your phone goes off, however, you look at it right away, finding a text from Rafe.

Open the window please.

You let out a sigh, because of course he wasn't going to go to sleep and leave things like this. Tossing your phone down without responding, you stare at your spinning fan and try to figure out what the hell you and Rafe are supposed to do. Your phone dings again, pulling you out of your thought.

Baby, your read receipts are on for me. Please open the window. I'm standing in the tree.

Your head shoots over to the window, seeing only Rafe's phone screen waving around. You sigh and rise from your bed, whipping the window open and finally seeing him come into view. He's now seated on the branch across from your window, scrawny legs dangling down. He drags his sad eyes up to meet yours, swallowing visibly when he sees your expression.

"Can I just say one thing? And then, you can yell and say whatever you want."

You nod your head at him slowly, crossing your arms over your chest while you wait for him to speak.

"I, uh," he starts off, scratching the back of his neck before he continues, "I never intended for us to be like this. Don't get me wrong, the past few days I've been, like, in heaven. But, you know, I think I was so focused on getting you that I never thought about how to keep you. If that makes any sense. I've been screwing up a lot, but it's only because I've never done... this before. I've never dated anyone, or whatever, because - well, you know why. I just have loved you all my life and-"

"Rafe," you stop him, watching as he stops anxiously making hand gestures and stares at you with wide eyes.

"I'm rambling, okay," he nods, "I messed up. With the drugs thing, and the Bahamas thing. But, that's it. There are no more secrets or surprises. I promise. So, if we can just work this out, we'll be set. And, listen, I'm not even considering going to the Bahamas if it means I lose you, I mean it's not even on my radar-"

"Rafe," you say again, dropping your arms to your sides, "Just come inside, baby."

He grins at the nickname, standing up so fast you swear he's gonna hit his head on the branch above him. He ducks just before he does, strategically maneuvering his body over to your window and sliding through it with a surprising amount of grace.

"Hi," he murmurs, grin still present on his lips when he adds, "Baby."

"Hi," you breathe back, voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you like me to continue with the speech, or-"

"No, please," you laugh, your mind instantly being set at ease when he smiles, too.

"Good. I was about to start talking about how your mom spanked you with a wooden spoon that time-"

"I was nine."

"-because you climbed up on the counter to get the cupcakes she had hidden up there-"

"You dared me to!"

"They were my birthday cupcakes!"

You laugh and so does Rafe, and suddenly, it feels as if no harsh words had ever been exchanged between the two of you. He stares down at you as he smiles, sadness still present in his eyes. You're sure he took your words to heart earlier, and you want nothing more than to take them back.

"I'm sorry," you say, meeting his eyes.

"For the cupcakes?" he raises a quizzical brow.

You sigh, "For tonight, Rafe."

He nods his head, letting his playful expression fall. You accept his touch when he holds his arms out and pulls you into him, pressing you right up against him, "Me, too, sweetheart."

"I should never have said those things at the table."

"I deserved it," he insists, "I can't imagine how I would feel if we had just gotten started and you didn't tell me you were taking off for a month."

You nod against his chest, letting his scent flow through your body, "It will be good for you, though. Get you back on your feet with your dad and stuff."

"Yeah," he says quietly, resting his chin on the top of your head, "Miss you, though."

"I don't want to even talk about it," you confess.

Rafe exhales, his way of silently agreeing. You really can't even imagine a month without this boy - not after you've gotten so used to having him around to hug and kiss and harass Topper for you at work.

"Just say the word," he whispers, stroking a hand through your messy hair, "One word, and I'll cancel. Dad can handle it."

You only consider it for half a second. Of course, the selfish part of you wants him to stay and cuddle and not be a long distance boyfriend for the next month. But, you know this is what's best for him and his future - not to mention his relationship with his dad.

"I want you to go, Rafe. I mean - I don't want you to. But, I know you need to."

"And we'll be okay?"

You move your head on his chest so your chin rests on his sternum, staring up at your worried boy. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as he waits for your reply.

"We'll be just fine."

"Okay," he nods, tightening his grip around you, "Okay."

"Okay," you repeat, letting out a little laugh at how he reassures himself.

You both stay quiet for a bit, just relishing in the touches and thinking about how hard it will be when Rafe has to leave. You're already planning on a weekend to take off work so you can see him when he speaks again.

"Are you sure I can't stay?"

You smile, "I think you should."

"Good, because I'm not leaving."

You laugh against him, and the warmth that fills his body is nothing short of euphoric. The truth is, Rafe never thought things would move as fast as they have. He had planned on going on the trip and seeing where things stood between the two of you when he got back, and then he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. Every single plan he had made over the course of the past month or so had been completely ruined.

However, standing in your room, holding you the way he is, he really doesn't care.

"I love you," you whisper.

He knows those words coming out of your mouth, directed toward him, will never be something he's used to hearing. It's still so new - so unbelievable to him that he finally has what he has wanted for all these years. It just took a lot of battles and pain to get it.

"I love you, too, baby."

He can tell by the way your voice sounds and the way your shoulders droop that you're upset. So, he leans down and tucks one arm around your waist, the other behind your knees, and picks you right up off the ground.

"What are you doing?" you question, smiling when you see his goofy expression.

"Trying to get that pretty smile out of you," he replies, smirk present on his lips, "It worked."

You laugh, arms locked around his neck and holding on tight. You know he'd never drop you, but you like to be close to him in this way.

He walks over to your bed and sets you down on your side, crawling on top of you the second you're flat on your back. He hovers over you, arms resting on either side of your head and supporting his weight.

"Did you mean it? About not being able to come visit me?"

His voice is quiet, fragile. You wonder if that's what he's been focused on since you two were out on the patio - that you were so quick to reject that idea.

"I'm sure I can figure something out," you tease him, biting your lip to hide a smile.

"Mhm," he grins, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Can we talk about how you scaled the tree in my backyard to get up here?" you break away from his kiss, trying to hold back your laughter at picturing Rafe's six-foot-four self crawling through the branches.

"I'm an expert tree climber, thank you."

"An expert treehouse pusher, too," you laugh.

"Unfair!"

You giggle, pressing your hand to his mouth to cover it because of how loud he is. He laughs against your hand, and when you pull it away, he leans down and gives you a few more gentle kisses.

"You almost sound surprised that I would do that for you," he mumbles.

"I don't even want to know how high your threshold is for things you'd do for me," you reply, giggling when you watch his smile grow.

"It's up there," he agrees with another kiss.

You give in and let him kiss you deeper, bringing your hands up to stroke through his hair and down his neck. He eventually settles himself down on you, body shoved in between your legs and arms supporting the rest of his weight.

"Y/N?"

Scott's voice comes quietly through your doorframe. You both freeze, Rafe glancing at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah?" you call hesitantly, and when you see the door knob start to turn, Rafe hurries off of you and slides under your bed.

You try to suppress your laugh as you sit up, tugging your comforter over you so it looks like you had just been laying down. Alone.

Scott opens the door and peaks his head in, only taking one step inside.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, but he almost looks amused as he stares at you.

"I'm fine," you reply, voice quiet.

"Yeah, okay. Rafe left pretty grumpy."

You nod, "We'll work things out."

Scott scoffs, which makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion at his reaction, "That's gonna be kinda hard with him under your bed."

Your jaw drops as you stare at your brother, who smirks at your reaction. Rafe peaks his head out from under the bed, hesitant to make direct eye contact with him.

"Hey, man," Rafe says awkwardly.

"Dude, get your ass out from under there. I know there's dust."

"Shut up, Scott, I clean."

"No, you don't."

"Okay," Rafe cuts your bickering by dragging his tall self out from underneath your bed, standing upright, "Just don't tell your dad."

"I don't want you to die," Scott says, rolling his eyes.

"I appreciate that," Rafe replies.

"Well," Scott says, rocking on the balls of his feet, "I'm gonna let you two work it out. Just- don't- you know-"

"Ew, Scott," you frown.

"Ew?" Rafe questions you, eyebrows furrowed and offense heavy in his face.

"No, not 'ew' like that, just-"

"Don't elaborate," Scott begs you.

"Goodbye, then," you wave your hand, demanding him to leave.

He gives Rafe one last smirk, then marches out of your room and shuts the door. Rafe turns to you, still holding the same expression of confusion and offense.

"You know that's not what I meant," you grumble.

"Hmm, I don't know. I mean I thought it was pretty good the other night, but-"

"It was."

Rafe grins victoriously, "I know."

You roll your eyes, giggling only when he lays himself on top of you once more. You bring your lips to his, trying to get your fill even though you know you never will. Kissing him is like a drug and you only seem to be getting more addicted.

"Want to give Scott a show?"

"We better do it now, before you leave."

"Unfair."

Taglist: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @deenaswifeyyy @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @igotmajordaddyissues @babeyglo @dr3aming0utl0udx @beskar-boba @billowingbanshee @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @layazul @cremextart @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @@notdisneychannel @gillybear17

[creativeashproductions]

When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

 “-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

“On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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[savoies]

Things Changed - Pierre Luc Dubois.

Summary: Neighbors to lovers.

Word count: hopefully 1.6k

Warnings: hints of angst, a few bad words, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Since I have a cute new neighbor I thought why not use the neighbors to lovers trope to live out all my fantasies. I had a lot of fun writing this with the help of a few close people so enjoy! (not proofread)

taglist: @hartsyhart​ ​ @nhlpetey​ @mitch-slap​ @frostythegoalman​ @ryanssuzuki​  @aria253264​ ​  @josty​ ​ @kaitieskidmore1​ ​ @kiedhara​ ​ @laurenairay​ ​ @teenagekook​ ​ ​ @alxvlasic​ ​ ​ @hockeyallthetime​ ​ ​ @barzy-baby​ ​ ​ @officialgritty​ ​ @bowenbyram​ ​ @mems06​ ​ ​ @joshsandersons​ ​  @connormcdavo​ @maattamatthews​ ​ @pierreslucdubois​ ​ ​ @selenophileangel​ @boqvistsbabe​ @ana-maa​ @stars-canucks​

tagging some friends: @npatrickz @beauvibaby @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy @2manytabsopen​

(*credit to gif owner*)

Y/N had recently moved to Canada seven months ago and honestly it was going just fine. Nothing major had happened other than wanting a change of pace and well she had gotten it. Well at least the most change her dog and her could get.

Today was a nice day so she decided why not head to the dog park that was connected to the apartment complex and just spend all day there. What she did not suspect was running into a cute stranger who happened to be her neighbor from a few doors down. 

Pierre had come to the dog park well to see the dogs. After the trade from Ohio to Winnipeg he decided that it was best to leave his dogs with his mom until he got settled in. He probably thought that most people would find a broading 6′ 3″ man sitting on a bench creepy but honestly he couldn't care less because the smile the dogs provided him as they ran by was worth the stares.

"Brody! Brody come back here." Y/N yelled as her dog ran across the yard in and around anything he could get through. As her dog ran up to a cute stranger sitting on a bench she couldn't mutter enough curse words to process why this was happening now and today. 

"I am so sorry about him, it's just we don't get out much." She replied and mentally shook her head, not understanding why she had to explain herself to a complete stranger.

"Oh it's totally okay, I love dogs. I actually have two but they are back at home. This might seem kind of straight forward but if you ever need a dog sitter I can offer my services." Pierre smiled at the dog and stranger in front of him.

Y/N knew that she shouldnt take up the offer but with work and life and a cute stranger who seemed actually genuine she threw away mostly all her morals and said why the fuck not.

"Really, that would be really helpful. I'm not sure if I should tell you my apartment number now or after I find out you're a murderer." She looked up at him. After assuring her that he was indeed not a murderer and just a normal guy who loved dogs they traded numbers and apartment info. I guess after all the dog park was worth it.

The First Time.

The first time Pierre earned his title of dog sitter was when you went away for a work conference. It had been three days. Honestly you were quite nervous since you had never really left your dog with anyone other than your family but after hanging out with him so often you felt like it was okay.

"Brody say bye to your mom, we are gonna have so much fun without her huh." He said as he led Brody into the living room and waited for you to give any special instructions.

"Pierre thank you so much for doing this. I want him the same way as when I left him." You hugged him as you said your goodbyes and gathered your things to head off to the airport for your departure. 

"Have some faith in me Y/N." He said as he closed the door and watched netflix with the dog cuddling into his side. 

The Second Time.

A family emergency had presented itself and as much as you wanted to take Brody with you you just knew it wasn't the best choice. Pierre had come over a few times to "spend time with Brody." Even though most of the time was spent joking around and talking about each other's week.

You had got the call when Pierre was over. Both of you sprawled out on the cold tiled floor. "Hello?" You answered as someone quickly informed you on what was going on. "Wait what, uhm yeah I'll go back home right now." You said as you hung up and quickly sprang up to your feet to pack.

"Pierre I know you're busy and you can say no but can you watch Brody, a family emergency has come up." You spoke hastily.

"Yeah of course, everything ok?" He asked worried.

"No but hopefully soon." You gave him a soft smile as you said your goodbyes and rushed out your apartment door.

The Third Time.

The third time was different. Not necessarily an emergency but mostly a way to make sure that your dog was okay for a few hours. Or at least not alone and spending it with one of his favorite people aside from you. You had gone out to a club with some coworkers and had dropped off Brody at Pierres earlier in the day. Of course you asked if he was busy and he said he had to catch up on some work so that's the only reason you really asked him to. You knew he had a life aside from your dog sitting escapades. 

Later on in the night as you arrived home with a guest you had asked him to wait by the door as you went to go pick up Brody from a few doors down. It was late and maybe you should have just done it in the morning.  But your mind being hazy with the few drinks from earlier didn't think about Pld being asleep and you knocked before you could stop yourself.

Pierre was slowly drifting off to sleep with thoughts of you in his head. How he had to adapt to this new city which he barely knew anything about but since you had come into his life everything seemed somewhat easier. 

There was a soft knock on his door and as he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes he walked up to the door with Brody close by to his feet and he saw you. "Y/N hey what are you doing here?" He asked confused on why you were here at one in the morning.

"Just here to pick up Brody." You smiled at him as he looked towards your apartment and his smile dropped as he saw the random dude standing in front of your door awkwardly. 

 He knew he shouldn't be making a big deal out of it. You guys weren't anything in the first place. But Pierre couldn't help what he felt towards you.

"You okay?" He asked before letting you head back.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." You said as you walked away. 

After that things weren't the same. You could sense it. After getting the stranger out your bed you cleaned up and headed over to Pierres for your weekly brunch hang out but he didn't answer. That wasn't what made you realize that it wasn't the same. I mean you knew he had a busy life. Maybe it was the way that every time there was a knock on your door you were hoping it was Pierre hoping to "hang out with Brody" but it never was.

Or maybe it was that he was ignoring you. It had been a week since you had last seen him and as you walked to the elevator you tried to rack your mind with what you could've done to upset him.

As you reached the elevator there stood the boy that you so much wanted to see. Pierre rolled his eyes as you arrived, having deliberately been avoiding you for a full week and bumping into you in the only place he couldn't escape.

Y/N looked up at him hoping that he would talk. Hoping that somehow he would reveal why he was mad or at least why he was ignoring her.

"So it seems like you were just using me as a dog sitter huh.” Pierre broke the silence. He was feeling so many emotions seeing the person that made him feel good about himself. 

"What, Dubois what are you talking about?" Y/N looked up at him confused on why he would even think that. Cause honestly it did start like that but after that it grew into a friendship that she was so thankful for.

 Pierre just scoffed thinking of what he would say next. "The dude you brought back to your apartment."

"What about him?" Y/N asked.

"Look when i offered to be your dog sitter i didn't think it was for bringing guys around." 

"Look Pierre i don't mean this to sound rude at all but when you offered you said it was for whenever i needed a dog sitter and i brought Brody over because I thought you liked spending time with him. And honestly the guy is a one time thing.” Y/N spoke up suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable recalling the events from last night to her not so stranger anymore cute neighbor.

 "I do love dogs, honestly spending time with him was nice but why do you think I always came over to hang out with Brody?" He asked putting air quotes around hanging out. Then it clicked in Y/Ns mind. Him coming over more than two times a week, him ignoring her after her unfortunate night with a stranger, them now spilling their guts to each other in an elevator. He liked her. At least she hoped that she was right and was not about to make a dumb mistake.

"Oh." escaped from her mouth. As the door opened and Pierre smiled at Y/N waiting for somewhat of a reaction other than oh. 

"Pierre I've always been bad at reading signs so I'm really hoping that I'm reading the correct sign right now. Uhm would you like to maybe come over later, you know to hang out with Brody?" You asked as you put air quotes around hanging out with Brody like he had down earlier.

"I thought you'd never ask." He replied before placing a kiss on your cheek leaving you with a small smile on your face.

[willow-tree-writes]

❀Bet {2}❀

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: The good girl goes on a date with the bad boy and actually enjoys it. So that leads to a few more dates. A few stolen kisses. A few introductions to knew people. The catch? You might realize it sooner than later...

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me on the first part! I did not think it was going to do as well as it did. I got this out a lot sooner than I thought I would.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing

Part 1

!I don’t own this gif!

“I think this is really cute.”

You laughed a little, looking at the sundress. “Of course you’d pick that, Mom.”

She gave you a look. “Tell me it’s ugly and I’ll put it back.” 

“You know I can’t say that.” You smile at her and take the dress. It was a really cute dress, to be honest.

Your smile drops a little and you sigh to yourself. “I don’t know why I’m trying to get all pampered for this.” It wasn’t like you had actually said yes to the date. You just had no choice. Yeah, that’s right.

Your mom watched you for a moment as you played with the fabric of the dress. “Because it’s your first date. Just let yourself have fun.”

“You don’t understand, Mom.” You set the dress down. “This guy’s idea of fun is smoking, drinking, and having sex. Period, end of sentence.”

She nodded, but it didn’t seem like the information was really settling in. “If he’s so out of your line of sight, why don’t you just not go?”

For some reason, that didn’t really occur to you. He seemed so dead set on taking you out, not showing up to the date wasn’t an option.

“There’s some part of you that likes him, Y/N/N. Whether you’ll admit that to Dina or not, you can’t hide it from me.”

She gave you a kiss on the forehead as she picked up the dress and went to go check out.

----

You rubbed your fingers along the case of your phone, flipping it to check the time every minute it seemed.

3:23… 3:24… 3:25…

You were only a couple minutes early. But he still wasn’t here. And you doubt he’d ever show up.

3:26…

It was probably some prank. Him and his friends thought it would be funny to mess with a tipsy Kook.

3:27…

It’s not like you had anything to give him. The Pogues didn’t care too much for what Kooks had, especially when those Kooks can barely get by in life.

3:28…

Pogue and Kook. What stupid terms. Who even came up with those?

3:29…

You felt all the anxiety you tried to fight out come out victorious. This was going to either be a set up, or a stand up. No in between, it was one or the other.

3:30…

You looked down at your sandals as you tried to kick the sand out from between your toes. 

You were overexaggerating. You knew that. Being a minute or two late wasn’t that bad. You’ve been late to important meetings and such. So why were you so upset about this?

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” 

Your head jolted up as you watched the figure of the boy approach you. He was wearing the same stupidly goofy smile as yesterday. His outfit was simple, a grey tank top with shorts, but it looked good on him.

You shrugged a little, holding onto your phone a bit tightly. “I had nothing better to do today.” You tried to cooly answer. You wanted to make up for how he saw you yesterday.

He nodded, just taking the information even though it was clear he didn’t believe it. “Well, I hope you’re wearing a bathing suit, cause we’re heading out on the water.”

“On the water?” You repeated. “Like, on a boat?”

JJ started walking backwards, holding out his hand for you to take. “Yep.”

You were hesitant, but grabbed his hand anyways. By showing up, you agreed to the date. Whether you thought of that or not. The least you could do was go along with what he has planned.

As soon as your hand touched his, he smiled and pulled you along down the beach with him.

Strangely, his hand was soft. Yes, it had a rough undertone to it, but it’s not something you’d notice if you were just shaking it or holding it for a couple seconds. There was no way he could make his hands feel like this in one night for one girl. It had to be something he worked on daily, weekly at the least.

“Say hello to the HMS Pogue.” JJ gently took your senses from your hands back to your eyes.

The boat in question had the words ‘HMS Pogue’ painted on the side of it. It was in fairly decent shape, you made sure to note in your mind.

You glanced at him, noticing he was watching for your reaction to his friends’ prized possession. 

Giving him a smile, you look back at the boat. “She’s really nice.” Usually, you’d just say something like this to get out of the conversation. You couldn’t say anything bad, in case it came back to bite you in the butt. This this, now this was genuine.

The smile he had from before seemed to grow more sincere, though that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but a person who has been watching the teenager for years.

He let go of your hand as he hopped in the boat. Your hand felt weird now, as if you wanted his touch again, even just for a second more.

That want was somewhat fulfilled as he held out his hand to you once again. This time it was to help you on the boat. Which you gladly took.

Now the boat wasn’t huge, but for two people, it was pretty spacious. It looked like it had been recently cleaned to the best of the boy’s ability. But what caught your attention the most was the basket that was down in the middle, a blanket thrown out under it.

You glance at the boy that was driving the boat away from the dock. “A picnic?” You smooth out the back of your dress before sitting yourself down on the blanket and taking off your sandals.

“Is that not a good first date idea?” It was obvious he wasn’t the dating kind of guy. He was used to hooking up, not meeting up. This would be his first real date.

But it was also your first date.

Shrugging, you rub your hand against the softness of the blanket. “I think it’s nice.”

If you were paying attention, you might have seen the smile that cracked onto his face that held more than just the idea of his plan working. If you were paying attention, you might have seen the way he shook off that smile as quick as it came.

“Good, good.” He mutters, nodding. He clears his throat after a while, after you are pretty far out into the water. “I hope you like sandwiches.”

You look over as he sits down on the other side of the basket, opposite of you. “As long as you have turkey.”

Eight sandwiches later, between the two of you, JJ was sitting on the edge of the boat telling stories as you sat in a safer place, listening.

“So, John B actually took the bottle, and it was glued to his hand for the whole day!” 

You smile and shake your head, holding back a laugh. “That’s such a cruel prank. It must’ve hurt to get it off.”

JJ chuckles and kicks his shoes off before standing. “All I know is it was hilarious to watch him try to do the simplest of shit.”

There was a moment of silence between you, giving time for JJ to pull off his shirt out of nowhere.

You quickly redirected your eyes as a blush crept up your neck to your cheeks. “JJ, what are you doing...?”

“What? I told you you better be wearing a bathing suit.” He tossed his shirt over by the empty basket.

Shaking your head, you bring your knees up to your chest. “Well, I’m not.”

“Can’t take no for an answer, sorry.” Without much warning, he jumped down from his spot and picked you up. 

“JJ!” You squealed as he threw you over his shoulder.

He walks up to the edge of the boat. “Last chance; do you wanna take that cute little dress off before I toss you in?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

A furious blush once again covered your cheeks. “I-I am not taking off my dress…”

He shrugs. “Be that way.” Before you could ask him oh so sweetly to not toss you in, he tosses you in.

Another squeal erupts from your throat as your body comes into contact with the cold water. It was an unrefreshing wakeup call for anyone who needed it. 

You gasped for air as you broke the surface. A gasp that took in water from a splash right in front of you. 

“JJ!” You called out again as he resurfaced, laughing his ass off.

He swam over next to you. “Come on, Kookie. Live a little.”

You scoff a little and splash him right in the face. “Not when I just bought this dress earlier today.” You mutter.

He smirked as he got even closer. “‘Bought it earlier today’? As in, just for me?”

You blush yet again and look away. “N-No…”

With one hand he grabs your hips, and the other one places itself on your cheek to make you look at him. “Is Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes lying to me now?”

The tone of his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. The space closing in between the two of you made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss you, right? It was only your first date. Wasn’t that kind of thing left for the end of it? Or maybe even the second? Or third? Definitely not the middle of the first, at least.

But then again, here you were, inches away from your lips touching their first boy. And you weren’t moving away. You weren’t rejecting it. 

It might have been because of the warmth that radiated off him as you both floated in the cold water. It might have been because of the way his touch made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

His lips never moved away, only closer. They didn’t hesitate, when centimeters away, to press themselves to your lips and steal any air that might have occupied your lungs.

His lips, much like his hands, were softer than you imagined. But unlike his hands, there was never a hint of roughness. It didn’t feel like hundreds of other girls have done the same as you; you felt different. Special.

Your lips danced together for what seemed like an hour. His took intricate steps, as your’s tried to follow him to a tee and only slightly tripping over yourself.

When you parted, you felt yourself leaning into him. Any doubts about kissing in the middle of the first date left your mind as you just wanted more.

JJ lightly squeezed your hips, pulling you over with him closer to the boat. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that dress too much.” He says as he slowly lets go of you.

“Yeah, right…” Biting your lip, you try not to make it evident that you craved his touch, if just for a moment more. That the cold water was unbearable without him near.

You said nothing as he climbed out of the water and into the boat. He extended his hand out for you, which you took probably a little too quickly. After he helped you in, you managed to slip on some of the water that dripped from you. You slipped right into him.

He caught you without a problem, laughing a little. “Falling for me already?”

You laughed a little along with him, but didn’t give him an answer or anything like that. “Doesn’t really seem like this was your first date.” You just would change the subject.

Shrugging, he went over to drive the boat back to land. “I’m just full of surprises.”

The rest of the ride was kind of silent. But it wasn’t an awkward silence. At least, after a while it wasn’t. Maybe it was just a little awkward for you.

Once he parked the boat, JJ hopped off, tied it down, and went over to help you get off. He made sure you didn’t slip this time.

You smile at him as you start to walk down the dock. “I actually had a really nice time…”

“What? You thought you weren’t?” He asked, fake offended.

With a shrug, you say, “Well, you’re-”

Before you could finish, JJ’s phone started to ring from in the boat.

“Hold that thought.”

You hadn’t realized the two of you were holding hands until he dropped your’s to run back to the boat and hop inside.

JJ picked up his phone and looked at the name of the caller. He rolled his eyes and answered. “What do you want now?”

“How is everything going?” Gavin’s voice made JJ want to hang up immediately.

He glanced over at you for a split second before looking out over the water and lowering his voice. “Just fine. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait!” Gavin called out before JJ could put his phone down. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend, or me?”

JJ shook his head. “No. Why the fuck would she?”

There was brief talking in the background. “Just wondering. Your money for this date will be given to you after school Monday.”

“Good.” Once again, JJ’s gaze trailed over to the girl who was standing by the end of the dock. The girl who was soaking wet from head to toe. The girl who bought a new dress just for his date. The girl he went on his first date with.

Without saying anything more, he hung up the phone. He was bound to break your heart, but he didn’t know if he wanted to.

____ ____

Tag List -  @outerbanksbabes ♛ @camillemonty ♛ @http-cherries ♛ @lonely-kermit ♛ @iccyyyybitch ♛ @Bearfacesbitch ♛ @itsagurl ♛

[whump-town]

Red Fish, Blue Fish

This is for @genevievedarcygranger (i'm sorry you deserve better than whatever this is)

Hank chilling with Hotch but it's sad bc I don't know how to do happy

On Thursday Hank sits out on his front porch with his banana mushed in his right hand and his sippy cup in the other. He waits, as he does every Thursday, for the sound of Hotch’s old Jeep to pull into the driveway. The car doesn’t look like anything he’d drive but it’s one of the last things he has of Haley’s - the Jeep they bought together in Seattle. Her dream car. He drives it now for practicality and because as he gets older silly things make him sentimental. And he just loves this old car.

And Hank loves it even more.

Hank grows agitated - a deep feeling in his stomach making him just as upset as the mashed banana he now wants off his hands. Savannah steps out on the porch with him, having left knowing he’d stay put because he’d never miss Hotch pulling in for anything. She’s got a wash rag and drags the warmed cloth over his face and hands. Taking what’s left of the banana and tossing it into the grass for a bird to eat.

“Come on,” Savannah picks him up. “We gotta get you dressed.” Hank goes even if he’s a little confused. Every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as Hank can remember he’s spent the work day at Hotch’s. Occasionally, (if Hotch has a doctor’s appointment and when Jack has breaks from college) that planning gets mixed up and Hank doesn’t take it well. They come rarely because over the last three years Hotch just doesn’t schedule appointments for those days and Jack is nearly twenty-one and spends his breaks doing other things. Not hanging with his dad.

Hank realizes Hotch isn’t coming when Savannah starts to draw him a bath. He fights her even though he typically loves baths. “No mama,” he tries to push himself out of her arms. He wants to go back to the porch. Hotch can’t come unless Hank is down there to watch for him. “No mama no!” He cries when she’s triumphant and places him down in the tub. “Hops,” he reminds her with fat tears rolling his cheeks. “Hops comin’ mama. Hops.”

She washes the rest of the banana off of him, sighing, and trying not to get upset herself. “Hops isn’t coming baby.” He hadn’t come last week either but Hank had been too distracted by Uncle Spence making a surprise visit to notice. Which was entirely the point of Spencer coming on Hotch’s normally scheduled days. Savannah knew she wouldn’t be as lucky this week. Hank had noticed, he’d realized how long it had been since Hotch came around. And she’d still let him think Hotch was coming this morning. She needed the hour to gather herself, to call Derek, and be certain. To reassure herself of what’s happening.

Hank stops fighting her. His little shoulders drop and he sniffles pitfully as he lets her wash his body back off. “Not comin’?” he mumbles. Hotch always comes. He picks Hank up from DayCare early and they go to the park for ice cream. All it takes is one phone call and, even with other plans, Hotch will diverge his path to get Hank. How many lunches has Hank been to? Eating a banana muffin, seated on the ground, and leaning against Hotch’s leg while he and Emily talk over coffee in some dusty cafe’s bookstore. How many prestigious academy lectures? Laying on the floor and coloring while Hotch guest speaks in one of Reid’s classes.

Savannah stops and looks at her son. His little eyes are full of far too much sorrow for someone so small and typically full of such overwhelming joy. She wipes one of his tears and frowns when he sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his chubby fist. “We’re going to Hops’ house,” she tells him, “but you can’t see Hops. Not today, okay?” She cups his cheek, “Hops is sick.”

He didn’t tell anyone. Not Emily the Tuesday after he found out over their weekly coffee. He couldn’t. Not with Hank sitting in her lap and struggling to identify words he recognizes from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Not when he’d dropped Hank off knowing the treatment plan he agreed to would probably mean he’d eventually be too sick to take Hank every week. But he couldn’t say it out loud and make it true.

Last Monday he arranged for Dave to pick him up from the hospital after the surgery the oncologist thought would be minimal and a successful measure to get the cancer out of his body. With its success chemo could eradicate the rest and Hotch would manage to get through the whole mess without anyone having known a thing - the best alternative, in his opinion.

But his heart never does well under the stress of anesthesia.

“Sick?” Hank repeats and he turns this over in his head. Sick. He knows what to do. He nods his head, “o’tay. Gonna help?”

Savannah stops and refrains from the truth which is that there’s nothing they can do. This is all Hotch and the doctors. They’re only going over to his house - you know, she doesn't even know why they’re going over there. Dave and Emily have taken up a semi-permanent residence. Garcia’s bringing food and with Garcia comes Reid because he won’t say no to food. Derek’s over to put up a bar in the shower and he’ll be sucked into staying for dinner and wants her there so he doesn’t have to be alone. With all their normal babysitters there, Hank has to come as well.

With a hesitant nod, Savannah agrees. “Yeah, baby, we’re gonna help.”

Hank packs a bag to keep himself entertained under the helpful guide of his mother. He refuses the books she wants him to take and informs her moodily that he wants Hops’ books and not trucks. He can’t read the books at Hotch’s house but Savannah caves and decides that’s a problem for later. With his little bag on his back, he leads Savannah to the bathroom. Asks for the bandaids - stickers, he calls them - under the understanding that ouchies and fevers are the same as whatever is wrong with Hops and a bandaid will help. Savannah lets him take three. They’re just bandaids and it’s not a big deal.

His bandaids in one hand and his sippy cup in the other, Hank lets his mother put him in the car seat with no complaint. He’s forgotten his mother’s statement about not seeing Hotch and grows eager, excited as they take the familiar turns to get to Hotch’s house.

Derek meets them outside, his tension apparent to Savannah. He’s upset and she gets out, leaving Hank in the car out of earshot while they talk softly outside. Derek wipes his eyes of the tears trying to boil over, frustrated with himself for being upset and Savannah rubs his arm. Comforting him where he almost wishes she’d pressure him to pull himself together. She pulls him into a hug, holding him for a moment while he struggles to get a hold of his emotions. He’s scared and it hurts to see Hotch like this but he can’t and he won’t leave the team here alone. It isn’t fair and they could all use a little of Hank’s magic right now.

But Hank could care less about any of them.

He wants one person and one person only.

“Hank!”

Hank Morgan has had four-years to understand what everyone else around him leans blindly into. There is no need to knock, no shout in warning as he runs for the door of his favorite person in the whole world. His father can’t understand it, no one really can, but Hank loves Hotch. And after two weeks of missed Thursdays with no playing in the garden and napping to the sound of nature documentaries voiced by people with weird accents Hank is eager. He’s blind, he’s desperate and despite his father’s tone of voice he still fully expects to throw the front door open and find Hotch.

“Hank -” Derek tries to grab his son by the shoulders and stop his rapid pace towards the house. But even on baby legs the second he’s placed down on the ground, he’s running. Derek needs to give him a warning for what lies ahead but Hanks is on a roll with his excitement leading the pack. He slips right past his dad giving an excited little shout as he goes. It takes him a second to get up the steps, his legs too short to just run straight up them.

But Hotch isn’t standing at the front door.

Uncle Dave meets him instead on the other side of the door and cocks an eyebrow that’s humorous and light despite the way that the dimly lit living room strangles any chance at a good mood. “Where are you running off to short stack?” He’s not given a chance to answer as he’s lifted up, smothered in affections that he only pays half a mind.

Hank lets them kiss at his face. He limply goes into Spencer’s arms and just holds still while the genius squeezes the life out of him. Not even a single comment when Penelope has to brush tears from her eyes to accept him into her arms. He goes from person to person, answering their silly questions and sitting still with the understanding that he’ll end up with who he wants. He gets to Emily though and there is no Hops sitting beside her. No grumbling Hank has grown accustomed to hearing when the two of them are in the same room.

“Want Hops,” he tells Emily softly because if anyone can tell him where to find his rogue friend it’s Emily. In the way that he knows his mom is always with his dad, that Uncle Spence and Penny arrive in the same car, he knows that, typically, where Emily is there will eventually be a Hotch.

Emily smiles - a smile where her sadness is far better hidden than any of the others - and takes on a teasing tone. “Silly old Hops is taking a nap, ” she tells him with a shake of her head. She redirects him, hopes to distract him. “So, why don’t we go get a snack instead? Penny brought cookies and I think Hops has popsicles.” She kisses his forehead and stands, pulling him along with her. “What’re you thinking? Red popsicle?”

Hank turns over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the living room. He spots Hotch’s room, the door closed and the lights off. There he is, Hank knows. He’s in his room.

“Look—” Emily squeezes him, jerks his attention to the open freezer. “You want a squeeze?” She points to the box of GoGo squeez applesauce. The ones Hotch always keeps on hand for Hank. Typically, he can’t refuse them but Hank isn’t bothered with them. Emily sighs, “alright. Here, let me put you down. We’ll see what he has in the cabinets.” The second that Hank is on the ground he’s walking away. Leaving Emily in the kitchen trying to decide if these smiling gummies are half as good as they look.

Hank goes back to Hotch’s office, fingers trailing down the wall as he goes. He’s heading for the books he knows are for him on the lower shelf. He does take a moment to touch the covers of some of the larger books, ones he can only barely reach. Hotch steers him away from them but Hank likes their deep colors and their golden designs. It only makes him more curious as to what lies inside them. Mostly, he just wants to understand. That curiosity he has to know everything he can about the people around him. How his dad works with a hammer - he’s so strong it’s crazy. What Uncle Dave does with all the foods he puts in the pots and how it ends up tasting so good. And, more than anything else, what’s in these damn books.

Hank has his own shelf full of books that were once Jack’s and others that are a collection of books Hank has left here and ones that Hotch buys him when they go to bookstores. Hank decides on Dr. Seus a yellow book with fish - he has a hard time with the color yellow and as he pulls it down to take it to Hotch he’s excited to inform Hotch on it’s color. Though, he thinks it’s green.

It’s not hard to manage to get back to Hotch’s room, no one’s paying him any attention. Penelope is crying again and Savannah is rubbing Derek’s back, all of them listening to Dave talk somberly. They’re odd, Hank thinks, but that’s okay.

He pushes Hotch’s bedroom door open and is disheartened to find it so dark. No matter how many times Derek assures him there’s nothing in the dark and no matter how many times he’s taken a nap in this very room… he’s scared. Hesitantly, Hank steps into the dark back still close to safety. “Hops?” he asks softly. He can see something move on the bed, the hiss of something softly trailing through the room. Something beeps and it makes him jump and Hank bolts for the side of the bed. Running blindly to the side he thinks Hotch is at.

“Hops,” Hank frantically sweeps his arm over the side. He’s just a little too small to make it up the side by himself but he tries frantically. “Up Hops.”

Hotch coughs, squinting into the dark. He’d heard the door open - removed from himself in a distinctly drugged kind of way. In the back of his mind, the seemingly only alert part of him, assumed it was Dave back with more pills to swallow. Tiny fingers grab his wrist and Hank’s pleading, his fear, cuts through the fog idly. Hotch is pleasantly surprised to find Hank - afterall, he’d been more alert this morning enough to try and fight Dave over his typical day. Dave had been right though, Hotch isn’t well enough to watch after a toddler. Hank hits his side and the world brightens, pulled to focus by sharp pain that steals his breath.

“Please,” Hank cries. “Hops?”

Hotch can’t pull himself upright but he can vaguely make out Hank by his side. Little fingers holding onto the blanket. “Easy, ” Hotch whispers. He offers Hank his hand, grunting when the toddler quickly attaches himself to it. He’s sniffling, still crying as he grunts and struggles to climb up the side of Hotch's bed. His legs are a little too short but he makes up for it with determination. “Almost there, ” Hotch praises, moving his hand and giving the back of Hank’s pants a little pull to get him the rest of the way up.

Hank melts straight into him. Pushing his face into Hotch’s side and holding him, both arms around Hotch’s chest and holding tight. Hotch places his hand on Hank's back, rubbing it until his little sobs die down. “What are you crying for?” Hotch holds him close, ignoring the dull ache across his chest. After being stuck in this room, drugged and laying in the dark, he needs all the help he can get. He needs Hank with all his little questions and his snacks.

Hank calms down, sniffling sadly as he pops back up and rubs at his eyes. He looks down at Hotch, taking in this new situation. There’s a tube snaking around him and Hank can’t tell where it goes in or if it does but he frowns because he knows it must hurt and he doesn’t like that. Even the canal running Hotch’s nose. Gently Hank leans forward and touches it, frowning. “Hurts?”

Hotch shakes his head, “no. It doesn’t hurt.”

With a grunt, Hank adamantly accepts this. Hotch doesn’t lie so Hank trusts him but… it looks like it hurts. Hank leans against Hotch’s chest, curled up facing him. “You takin’ nap?” Hank asks.

Hotch nods his head, “something like that…” He keeps one hand on Hank, keeping the boy from getting too excited and rolling off the bed. Hank settles down close to him, scooting as close as he can. Half sitting on Hotch’s left side facing him. Hotch reaches up, ignoring the pull of his muscles, to place his palm to Hank’s face. “You gonna lay down with me?”

Hank grins and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh!” He pulls out his book, setting it down on Hotch’s chest. He scoots himself along the side of the bed, all clumsy baby movements, until he can move Hotch’s arm around him and lean against Hotch’s side. Putting his back against Hotch and laying his head on Hotch’s shoulder. Pulling his hand around him and into his lap. “Read?” he asks, cracking the book open and showing Hotch the page.

He hasn’t got a lot of energy, feels himself slipping with the simple strain of talking and watching Hank move in the dark of the room. He’s ashamed to admit, to even think, that he can’t sit up and hunt down his reading glasses and get through a simple children's book. Not even with Hank twisting around to look up at him like that. “You know the words, buddy.” Hotch has read it to him so many times and Derek even more. He gets a kick out of saying the words before them, and knows what each page says. “Why don't you read it to me?”

Hank frowns, looking at the book, and back at Hotch. He wants to read the book but he doesn’t know how. “You’ll help?”

Hotch smiles and nods, “of course I will.”

Hank settles back down and opens the book. The room isn’t really bright enough but Hank can see the page well enough. He skips the first page. There are big words and not enough pictures. “One fish,” Hank touches each fish as he goes. “Two fishes. Red fish and blue fish.” He looks back to Hotch and he nods, he’s right. “Black fish and blue fish and old fish and baby fish and green--”

“Yellow,” Hotch corrects softly. It’s not important that he’s getting the words wrong so much as the color. “It’s a yellow fish, see?”

Hank nods and repeats after Hotch. “Yellow fish and fish with a car.” He flips the page and lays his head down on Hotch’s side, curling up closer. He sits up, “can I have blankets?”

Hotch nods and Hank cheers softly and sits up. It takes him a moment but he scurries down beside Hotch, tugging the blanket up around him. “Comfortable,” Hotch asks and Hank frowns, trying to figure that out. It takes him another moment and Hank knows what it is - he sits up and pulls Hotch’s arm around him. Letting him lean back and he nods. It makes Hotch laugh a little, smirking. “Good.”

Hank lays his head back down on Hotch’s side and opens the book.

Derek finds them ten minutes later. Hank is just looking at the pictures, humming softly to himself as he traces the fish with his finger. Hotch is asleep, breathing not sounding any better than it had before but the room feels brighter. Things not so dense.

"I wondered where you ran off to," Derek whispers as he steps in.

Hank looks up from his book, "found Hops."

Derek nods, "yeah, I see that." He won't move Hank just yet. It's as calm as Hotch has been since he came home and Hank is being good. It keeps both trouble makers out of everyone's hair. "Will you watch him for me?" Derek asks playfully. "Seems like you're doing a good job."

Hank nods, attention going back to his book. "Yeah, I'm watchin'."

Derek leans over the bed and kisses Hank's head. Stopping for a moment and just looking at Hotch. His face pale and his breathing still not right.

"Hops is okay, daddy."

Derek clears his throat and nods. As he's walking out he hears Hank start the book over. His soft voice reading out, "one fish, two fish--"

[writingbeary]

Weekly Idol (pt.1)

Minyoung’s Outfit

Note:

Texts placed inside brackets are show subtitles

Italicized texts are in English

Texts that are block quoted are interview cuts

Episode 505 - Fireworks (I’m the One)

────────── ♔ ──────────

Minyoung bounced lightly on her heels while waiting for their shoot to start. They were at Weekly Idol’s studio to promote their new album particularly their title track, <Fireworks (I’m the One)>.

“Bun, you might tire yourself out before we even start.” Hongjoong chuckled as he watched the girl bounce, unable to stay still. “Are you that excited?”

“Not really? When we first guested here then yes, I was excited then. Not that I am not looking forward to what we’ll do today, just not as excited as before?” Minyoung answered after a brief pause.

“Who made her eat sweets?” Yeosang asked letting out a soft laugh as Minyoung pouted with her hands crossed over her chest.

“I’m not hyper. If anything, I am a bit bored that I want the shoot to start already.” Minyoung whispered hoping none of the staff hears her. Seonghwa smiled patting her back. “We’ll start soon. I think we’re just waiting on the director’s cue.”

As if hearing their conversation, the signal to start filming was given and the MCs were hinting at their guests’ identity.

“Today we should watch out for fires.” Kwanghee spoke as if warning Eunhyuk the latter agreeing and adding “Right. It’s pretty dry these days, so we should watch out for fires.”

“That’s also true but I meant a fire in your heart.” Kwanghee shook his head

Pretending to be shocked, Eunhyuk piped in “In my heart? If I need to watch out for the fire in my heart..then today’s guests must be a globally-famous idol band who set the fans’ hearts on fire.”

As the camera panned towards the group, San was acting as if he’s summoning a fire in his hands while Minyoung covered her face as if embarrassed at what he is doing.

“Yes. They came back to Weekly Idol again. ATEEZ!” at this the group cheered and jogged towards the set clapping.

[They’re so hot! They set your hearts on fire!]

“Nine makes one team. Hello. We’re ATEEZ” the group greeted bowing. Minyoung stood in-between Jongho and Yeosang right in the middle of the group.

“We should be careful not to burn ourselves today. ATEEZ is all about passion.” Kwanghee said as the camera showed Wooyoung and then Minyoung adding in fire effects to visualize their burning passion.

Kwanghee turned to Yunho asking “I heard you said that you won’t spare yourselves today? How will you do that?” the latter immediately punching the air. Minyoung hid her face behind Jongho as she laughed, embarassed for Yunho.

“Minyoung-ssi, are you okay?” Eunhyuk asked laughing as the girl fanned her face that turned red from trying to hold back her laughter. “Do you want to pretend not to know him?”

“Ah. I’m fine. It’s still manageable for now.” Minyoung quipped the corner of her lips arching as she tries not to laugh again. Jongho patted her back chuckling.

As the MCs stirred the show to move on to the next segment, ‘Specialty Appraisal’, the whole group started to get a bit worried showing a nervous smile. “Audience time for me.” Minyoung whispered to Yeosang who patted her back smiling.

“The first specialty to be appraised is multiplication tables.” Eunhyuk read of the script before turning to the group asking “How can they put that as their specialty”

Kwanghee also wondered curiously “ What’s with that? All of us remember the multiplication table.”

Yeosang raised his hand and explained why he wrote it down as his specialty “My mom was a math teacher when I was in school”

Eunhyuk said unsure if it’s enough to be considered a specialty “Well we master the times table when we’re in elementary school”

Kwanghee nodded making a story for the skill “But there must be a reason why Yeosang wrote it as his specialty. He told me that he could do it better than Mingi who isn’t here with us today. Then Mingi called me and said he wants you to fill in for him.”

Eunhyuk pretended to be fired up “I won’t go easy on him.”

Kwanghee adding on to motivate Eunhyuk “He’d put a lot of effort to crush you. He does his best when he’s on something.”

Eunhyuk chuckled as he bluffed walking towards the center for the game “You won’t even be able to mention the times table again. I mastered times table when I was exactly nine years old. I was in second grade then.”

Kwanghee asked “What about you, Yeosang?”

Yeosang answered adding in humor “I mastered it when I was born. My mom was a math teacher”

Eunhyuk laughed shaking his head as both of them got ready “It won’t be easy. He sounds confident.”

Minyoung held unto Jonho’s shoulder trying her best not to laugh.

[Minyoung losing her mind. Please save our bunny!]

Yeosang beats Eunhyuk easily even as they went on for another round. ATEEZ cheering for their bandmate as Yeosang’s specialty is verified, with it amounting to 180 dollars.

Kwanghee continued on looking at the group “Let’s meet the next member. It’s him.”

Eunhyuk turned towards the male “San-ssi. I heard he’s very flexible. Our lowest record of Limbo is 60cm ”

Wooyoung asked trying to measure it with his hands “Isn’t 60cm really low?”

Eunhyuk nodded as the staff prepared the limbo “Do you want to try it?”

“I’d like to try.” San answered as he watched the equipment be set up in front of him, his jaw dropping realizing how low he needs to bend to succeed.

Kwanghee chuckled noting San’s expression “San seems to be a little surprised but we had our source.”

Minyoung tilted her head confused “A source?”

Seonghwa suddenly spoke startling the members particularly San. “Actually..”

San looked at the eldest in disbelief “Did you tell them?”

Seonghwa chuckled explaining the reason behind it “Sorry. San has spread his legs here before. I was jealous of that skill but I didn’t know they’d want to check how flexible he is. I’m sorry.”

“Ahh so Seonghwa-oppa wrote it for San-oppa?” Minyoung giggled before checking the limbo’s height

Kwanghee nodded before asking “Yes. Seonghwa tipped us off. Are you not that flexible, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa shook his head “I can’t even sit with my legs crossed.”

Eunhyuk gasped and frowned a bit at the information “You can’t sit with legs crossed? Like this? Show us”

“When I try that, my legs won’t go down.” Seonghwa said as he sat down but with his legs not touching floor.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eunhyuk asked staring at his legs surprised at what he is seeing

Hongjoong who was beside Seonghwa pointed to Seonghwa’s leg explaining “This leg isn’t flexible enough.”

Kwanghee wondered outloud “How could you be such a good dancer then?”

Eunhyuk sounded the xylophone, effectively appraising Seonghwa’s ‘ability’ as Kwanghee laughed as he looked at Eunhyuk “Why would you appraise that? How much is it” “It’s 750 dollars.”

Minyoung at this point cannot hold back her laughter tearing up a bit, clapping at the appraisal “That’s his specialty?”

Kwanghee noted as he watched the girl fan herself and control her laughter “Minyoung-ssi is easy to laughter. This makes my job a lot easier.” the rest of the members chuckling as the girl tried to regain herself.

“It doesn’t affect dancing though.” Seonghwa waved his hands explaining “It’s only when I sit down that I notice it.”

“We sit on the floor on some restaurants right? He can’t eat there. He can’t eat that way” Wooyoung piped in pointing at Seonghwa laughing

“Let’s set aside Seonghwa’s specialty for a bit and go back to San. Will he be able to go over 750 dollars?”

Hongjoong noted seeing the limbo “That’s really low.”

Minyoung cheered forming a triangle with her arms to make a mountain gesture “San-oppa fighting! Don’t get hurt.”

San walked over near the limbo shaking his head “I don’t think I can make it”

Wooyoung and Yunho cheered on him “You can.” “Be confident”

Eunhyuk urged him on as he pointed at the limbo “You should easily make over 80cm. You can just pass through easily. We won’t even be surprised”

San tried measuring it by leaning down slightly before attempting to cross under “This..It’s a lot lower than I thought.” He would have made it if only he didn’t fell down on his knees, effectively failing the appraisal.

Hongjoong laughed as he motioned towards Seonghwa “San-ah, Seonghwa got you. He set you up.”

Seonghwa chuckled joining in on teasingly “Sorry, it was my big picture.”

“San must be very embarassed right now. Show us a pose that can prove your flexbility.” Kwanghee looked at San as the said male walked towards the center saying “I will show you a dance move in our song <Answer>. ” as he started both Minyoung and Jongho sang the part for him a bit.  “taolla bulkkotcheoreom~”

The MCs got surprised at how low he bent down. “Yah you should have done that!”

Jongho exclaimed “You could have done it this way.” San getting flustered since he did go lower than he thought he could

Minyoung giggled, teasing him “Does this mean San-oppa is just bad at games?”

Hongjoong laughed nodding as he concluded “It is. He can dance well but he is bad at games”

“Seonghwa’s tip was right. He’s talented but he can’t make use of it.” Eunhyuk laughed before continuing on with the show “We reviewed their specialty profile. Are we done?”

Kwanghee shook his head “We have one more specialty to review. He will try something new. Jongho will try a new category, grip strength.”

“When it comes to grip strength, Jongho-ssi is almost like a human juice extractor.”

Jongho declared getting ready “So I came back to set a record here.”

“He’s very vigorous” Eunhyuk noted as Kwanghee brought in a box of apples “For him to set a new record, we prepared some tests.”

[Split apples in thirty seconds]

“Let’s see how many apples he can split within 30 seconds. You will set a record here.”

 “Yes. That’s right” Jongho nodded while Eunhyuk took out a timer preparing for the challenge “So when other idols come here, Jongho’s record will be challenged.”

Minyoung asked with a tone of disbelief making the staff laugh “There are people who would come to challenge this? Splitting apples bare-handed?”

Jongho looked at her betrayed “Young-ah.” The girl laughing covering her mouth as she waved her hands “I mean…there’s other people who can do this?”

Kwanghee laughed as the girl tried to explain herself “Minyoung looks like she can’t believe what she just heard.”

“Jongho challenges to make a record. How many will he be able to split?”

Minyoung approached Jongho, rolling his sleeves up for him to avoid the juice getting to them while Wooyoung and San both have tissues on the ready for Jongho to wipe his hands during the challenge.

As Jongho challenges, Minyoung had her hands clasped together as she watched. She’s already used to seeing Jongho splitting fruits every time they’re on a variety show but she’s still amazed at how he makes it looks so easy.

[Jongho’s record is 9 apples in 30 seconds!]

Seonghwa noted as they finished counting the number of apples split “Oh it’s the same number as us.”

Wooyoung asked laughing “Ah, did you slow down to have exactly one for each member?”

“That was amazing. Now to appraise the specialty, it’s 80 dollars”

Minyoung laughed as she slapped Jongho’s arm lightly “He did all that but it’s only 80 dollars? Seonghwa-oppa’s ability is worth 750 though?”

Eunhyuk nodded “The appraised value isn’t important. The record is added to our records with his name anyway. When someone comes to challenge this, Jongho’s name would be mentioned every time.”

Jongho raised his hand remembering something “Can I lay down a rule?” as he took one apple as if to demonstrate it “You can split them easily if you rest them on your body. You should do it In the air.”

Kwanghee nodded understanding what he meant “Right so you can’t add more strength”

“What are you? Some kind of expert fruit ninja or something?” Minyoung commented making the members laugh

“ATEEZ really didn’t spare themselves. But that isn’t impressive to us. What’s ATEEZ specialty?”

“They don’t spare themselves on stage. I heard this time, they’re really setting something on fire.”

Kwanghee “That’s right. I saw their performance. I could feel the heat. The whole world is crazy about this song. Tell us about the song, <I’m the One>.”

Hongjoong introduced the song before they performed their song for Weekly Idol.

────────── ♔ ──────────

ATEEZ Minyoung Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. Any portrayal of real people is a combination based on what we could see on cameras and imagination of the author. This is purely fan fiction written for entertainment. Thank you for understanding.

━━━━━━ʕ ˵• ₒ •˵ ʔ━━━━━━

Writing Beary Corner

I wanted to do the mv filming behind the scenes but my impatient self went ahead and finished writing first lol I chopped this into two parts since it’s getting long although there’s not much left of the “episode”.

Repeating my request for questions for Minyoung. Kindly send in asks for Minyoung and we’ll have her answer them lol  ♡

...or you could also send me random asks and I’ll answer them to best of my abilities haha! or a scenario request too!

Updates are slower with my schedule and my wrists hurts whenever I type for long periods of time but I’ll release little by little. Thanks for reading!

-Mimi

22

[maplecornia]

chapter 31

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.26K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @cana | @canarystwin

Opening the door to your apartment, you sigh.

It was a long day. The photoshoot lasted longer than you expected, and you didn't even get a chance to reprint your schedule. It was for the best though, you supposed. Namjoon didn't need you to do much of anything else besides assist him while he set up to get some work done.

Biting your bottom lip, you try not to feel guilty that you left him all alone. He said he needed no distractions, but you pray he doesn't pull an all-nighter. Knowing him, however...Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the week's schedule Mr. Sejin gave to you before leaving. He told you that getting a daily schedule would be tedious, and informed you that weekly schedules would be sent to you every Sunday.

As for this week...

They have hardly any free time, especially Namjoon. Filled to the brim with practices, photoshoots, and interviews...you can't imagine what it'd be like when promotions start. He really shouldn't be pulling all-nighters nowadays, he needs to rest now to prepare for the workload that will come his way.

You scoff.

Who are you kidding? Namjoon won't be likely to do that. He's the type to pour out every last of his waking spirit into his work. Even if you did go back to help, you'd probably be in the way. Not to mention the fact he wouldn't listen to a word you say.

Shaking your head, you wonder if your mother felt the same way when she was raising you.

Studying all night, practicing until your voice was sore or you couldn't dance anymore, pushing yourself to the very limit, preparing for your dream...

Swallowing hard, you push the thought out of your mind.

You don't have time for guilt.

Slipping out of your shoes, you advance, locking the door tightly behind you. In the corner of your mind, you wonder if Sunoh is sleeping already. Glancing at the clock, you roll your eyes. If he wasn't, he'd be crazy.

3 am already?

Reminds you of the times you would write till the wee hours of the morning. Creating countless stories and adventures, different worlds and different people, trying to find a way to escape when you had nowhere else to run. When was the last time you were inspired to even pick up a pencil much less write?

"I hate being alone." You murmur, rubbing your face. "I always think too much."

Setting your satchel on the counter island, you empty its contents and come across the contract. Freezing, you slowly pull it out and stare at it.

This is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

Taking it to the table, you pull out a chair and carefully set it down.

It couldn't hurt to read through, could it?

You wonder why you are so afraid. What he did wasn't even something to be worried about. But when the one you cherish the most tells you you'll never make it, that you aren't talented enough...

He heard your voice and called it mediocre, amateur, and told you to find a new dream. Told you to give up on something you would never succeed at. Told you everything you worked so hard for was worthless. It was unrealistic, it wasn't worth trying.

You'd never make it anyway.

You weren't nearly as pretty enough to fit their standards.

You weren't perfect enough to pass their expectations.

You weren't made for the dream, so you shouldn't be given the chance to achieve them.

Groaning, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, you try to ignore everything you wish to hold back, but you can't.

How?

How could they see that you were worth something?

Obviously, you aren't worth that much, obviously, you aren't that special...

"Why are you hesitating?"

Remembering what Suga said, you wonder at the question yourself.

This is supposed to be your dream, you are supposed to hold onto it no matter what others tell you. No matter what people may think. It's something that's made to be eternal, that won't give up as long as you don't give up either.

Are you afraid?

"Yes. I'm terrified."

But why are you terrified? Why can't you forget the past?

"What if he's right? What if I'm not cut out for this?"

So are you afraid of what others think?

"No."

Then what is it?

You think of everyone who is counting on you, their high expectations. What they are risking for you. You think of the people who came before you, how hard they tried for this chance, just so they can achieve a dream they may never get. You think of your mother, who lost the very same dream and could never achieve it.

What is holding you back?

"What if I let them down?" you whisper softly, as a tear finally escapes its blockade and lands on the very same contract you've been holding in your hands.

You've dreamed of this. Receiving your first contract and signing with a company, ready to become a trainee, ready to be the singer; the performer you've always wanted. You've imagined the scenario in your head, acted it out many times over and over again. This was supposed to be a happy moment, the moment when all your hard work meant something. The moment when you finally took the next step towards your goal.

Inwardly, you want to scream in joy. You want to cry from happiness. But that fear, that blockade of terror, that is the one thing that holds you back.

What if when you finally let go, when you allow yourself to be happy again, it's ruined?

I gave everything to you.

"Shut up."

But you threw it away.

"Stop."

And for what? A dream that will never find its way out of your head?

"You're not here."

It's worthless hoping for something that can never happen.

"You don't know that."

Do you want to be worthless?

"You don't get to dictate my life."

Biting your lip, turn the final page of the contract, and find the dotted line. A line that will sign your life away. A line that holds every dream, every wish, every hope you've gathered in your small wish to be an idol. To sing on the stage, to perform and touch the world with your music.

Your world.

Finding a pen amongst the confines of your satchel, you put the tip gently to the paper and sign your name.

You smile once you do, and hold your hands to your face.

Letting out a small shriek, you let your excitement take control of your body and you allow the euphoric feeling of happiness to spread throughout you. You push back the feelings of doubt, the paralyzing helplessness of terror. For now, that doesn't matter. At this moment, those feelings aren't important.

Who cares about what's to happen in the future?

Would you rather be held back because of things you can't control?

No, this is your choice. This is your life.

You make the choice, no one else can make it for you.

At the harsh ringer of the phone, you jump. Startled, you turn to it from where it sits on the counter and check the caller ID.

One step at a time right?

That's all it takes to be okay again.

To move on.

Maybe it's time you talked to her.

Setting the pen down, you pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before accepting the call.

"Hi, Mom."

she finally called her mom! question, on a scale of 1-10 how angry would your guys' mom be if you ghosted her for this long? 0.o cuz mine would disown me for the longest time.

chapter 32 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[hargrove-mayfields]

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They���d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.” 

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.” 

“Do you even know how?” 

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.” 

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.” 

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.” 

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.” 

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?” 

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.” 

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through. 

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor. 

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills. 

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track. 

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin. 

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?” 

“Just give it here.” 

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture. 

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder. 

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.” 

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head. 

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose. 

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?” 

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around. 

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?” 

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s. 

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?” 

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?” 

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.”