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knucklescum · 2 years

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Irredeemable - Hughie Campbell x fem!reader (The Boys)

Pairing: Hughie Campbell (The Boys) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3011

Warnings: Swearing (obviously), canon typical everything

You should have known that you were the last person Butcher would want to see right now, and yet you had made the decision to return to him, to the team.

The Boys had been the closest thing you’d had to a family in a long time, even with their quirks and, well, their long running murderous rampage.

That was, until everything went to shit. Butcher had effectively exiled you from the team, sending you on your own solo mission several states away.

It wasn’t that you hated what you were doing, you just hated doing it on your own. Supe killing was a team effort, no easy feat for someone so completely alone. So when you caught wind of the team’s current predicament, you’d decided for yourself that it was time you made your return.

Maybe your sudden reappearance would serve as a well needed distraction from Becca’s death. Or maybe Butcher would do everything in his power to make you fuck off again.

The feeling of something heavy landing on your front pulled you from your sleep.

“Look what the fucking cat dragged in.”

You pushed your bag full of guns off your lap as your eyes fluttered open before sitting up on the sofa, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

You don’t even remember getting to the hideout, let alone crashing onto the couch in exhaustion.

“How long have you been back?” Butcher’s voice echoed in your ears again, a scowl on his face as you stared back up at him blankly.

“I - uh,” you start, rubbing your forehead. “What time is it?”

Butcher turns his head in the direction of the rest of the team, keeping his eyes on you as he waits for someone to tell you the time.

“Four sixteen P.M,” an unknown voice reads out, your eyes moving to find the source.

“Who-,” you barely get the word out before Butcher interrupts you.

“Four sixteen P.M,” Butcher repeats, turning his head back to you. “Now fuck off.”

Butcher begins to storm away as you jump up from the sofa. You move quickly to catch up with him, ignoring all of the eyes on you as you grab hold of his coat sleeve in desperation.

“I need to talk to you, Butcher,” you say, your voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t want to talk to you, love,” he whispers back.

“Please, Butcher. I, fuck,” you breathe, dropping his sleeve. “I killed him.”

“You-” Butcher starts, cutting himself off in shock. “You killed him. Him?”

“Him,” you repeat.

Butcher does nothing but stare at you for several seconds before bringing a hand to your shoulder.

“Welcome back,” he grins.

All you can do is smile back at Butcher as he removes his hand from your shoulder before quickly turning away, getting back to whatever it was that he was doing in the first place.

You feel the weight leaving your chest and your whole body relaxing as you turn back, facing the rest of the team.

Your smile only grows as your eyes meet Frenchie’s, the man instantly striding over and taking you into his arms.

“Mon ami, I missed you!” he exclaims, excitedly jumping you up and down in his embrace.

As Frenchie returns your feet to the ground, you look up at M.M, continuing to grin as he nods at you.

“You guys have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” you sigh.

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n),” M.M nods. “Although, I’m sure you can see, things have kind of changed around here since you’ve been gone.”

He tilts his head to the side, your eyes following to see the two newest members of the team.

“This is Kimiko,” Frenchie beams, putting an arm over her shoulder. The dark haired girl gives you a sweet smile as she waves at you. You wave back before focusing on the lanky man beside her.

“Hi,” he says, his voice slightly worried.

“Hey,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m (y/n).”

“Hughie. I’m the one who told you the time,” he laughs nervously, his hand slightly clammy in yours. “I don’t know why I just said that, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head as his face cringes.

“I appreciate it, Hughie.”

It doesn’t take long for you to settle right back into the team with the six of you each perched in the living room area of the hideout, both recounting stories and bringing each other up to speed with any new information.

You aren’t so happy to hear that your room has become Hughie’s, but you take the opportunity to tell him about all of your previous endeavours in that very room, on his bed.

“She’s teasing you, Hughie,” M.M laughs “She never had that many guys over.”

“Oh she did!” Frenchie says. “I could hear her every fucking night,” he nods his head, nudging his elbow into your side.

You give Frenchie a swift slap on the arm before mouthing a ‘sorry’ to Hughie, a disgusted look on his face.

“Right,” Butcher says, slapping his hands to his knees before getting up from the sofa. “I’m off to bed. Big fucking day tomorrow.”

He gives Hughie a heavy pat on the back before leaving the room, his door slamming shut behind him.

One by one, the rest of the team bid each other goodnight until you’re left alone with Hughie. He’s stood awkwardly in front of the T.V., his arms pressed to his sides as you rub your eyes with the back of your hands.

“I, um,” he starts. “I’m sorry for taking your room. I just-,”

“You didn’t know, Hughie,” you say, a tired smile on your face. “It’s your room.”

He nods, his face relaxing before he immediately tenses up again.

“But where are you going to sleep?”

“Here seems fine!” you say, swinging your legs up onto the sofa and resting your head on the arm of the couch.

He looks at you in disbelief as you shoot him an assuring smile.

“Are you sure? I just feel really bad,” he says, holding a hand to his cheek.

“I’m sure,” you sigh. “Now get to bed.”

A gentle laugh escapes him as you shoo him off with your hands, finally giving in.

“Fine, fine. But at least let me bring you a blanket?”

“Oh wow, uh,” you can’t hide your shock at his kindness.

He’s definitely in the wrong business.

“I’ll be right back,” he smiles.

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

You wake up curled up on the sofa, tucked under a fleece blanket. The smell of cheap, herbal body spray and a tinge of sweat fills your nostrils.

There's a faint sound of life from across the room, shuffling and clattering around. You sit up, feeling oddly refreshed despite your awkward sleeping arrangement.

“What time do you call this, love?” Butcher’s voice calls out. “Never knew you to sleep in.”

“Fuck off,” you grunt, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peel yourself up from the sofa.

“Ever the charmer,” he says, throwing a tea towel in your direction. “Make yourself useful and help Frenchie with breakfast.”

“Yes, boss,” you laugh, making your way towards the two men.

After a short while, breakfast is ready (Frenchie is very proud of his “French(ie) toast) and the rest of the gang join you in the large, communal room.

You shoot Hughie a smile as he walks towards the sofa, earning a polite nod in response. Quickly, you turn back to the “kitchen” countertop, eager to serve up this morning’s meal.

“So,” you start, gently piling a couple of slices of toast onto each plate. “What’s the plan for today?”

Butcher only laughs, lowly, in response as he shakes his head.

Both M.M and Hughie shoot Butcher a look of confusion, to which he just shrugs.

“You can do -” he cuts himself off, taking a bit of his toast. “Whatever you want,” he mumbles.

You furrow your brows, averting your gaze to the rest of the team in a desperate attempt to get some sort of answer.

Catching Hughie’s eyes, he shuffles in his seat before turning to face Butcher.

“I’ve - uhh - I’ve got some errands to run. (y/n) could -” he turns back to you. “You could join me today? I could use the company,” he shrugs.

“Sure,” you smile, catching Frenchie smirking to himself in your peripheral vision. “Errands sound good.”

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

Over the course of the morning, everyone splits into their decided pairs for the day: Butcher and M.M head out first to make a start on something or other a few miles away, Frenchie and Kimiko to gather intel on a particular set of Vought owned buildings and you and Hughie to… go shopping?

The two of you wander into town in comfortable conversation, stopping in a few different shops along the way.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” you start. “How the actual fuck did someone as, well, as good as you end up working with Butcher?”

“Oh man,” Hughie lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on the carrier bag growing tighter. “My girlfriend, uhh - fuck. A-Train killed my girlfriend.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Hughie. I shouldn’t have asked,” you say, stopping in the street in embarrassment.

Hughie lets out a soft breath, shaking his head. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

He tilts his head for you to continue walking, “Come on.”

The two of you walk in silence before you speak up again.

“What was she like?”

“Hmm?” Hughie stops.

“Your girlfriend. What was she like?” you repeat.

Unexpectedly, Hughie proceeds to tell you about his late girlfriend, who you now know as Robin, in great detail; the two of you go through what could only be described as an emotional rollercoaster as he tells you all about her personality, her passions - everything.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts himself. “I didn’t mean to, you know, fuck,” he shakes his head. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

“Come on,” you smile, holding your arm out for him to follow you. “Let’s go sit down somewhere.”

Wordlessly, Hughie follows behind you until you arrive at the park. The two of you sit beside each other on one of the many benches overlooking the city.

He turns his head towards you, looking at you as if he’s asking for permission to speak. You gently nod in response.

“I, um. I guess I just feel kinda guilty about everything. Just, yeah, everything. After Robin, I met the guys, you know, and they’ve helped me. They’re a good distraction to all of the bullshit, which is kind of ironic seeing as, you know, thanks to them I’m deep in the bullshit. And then of course there’s Annie,” he pauses with a shaky breath. “There was Annie. She made me feel so much better about everything, which in turn only made me feel worse. Annie is a supe, you know? And a supe killed my girlfriend. So, there were times where it kind of felt like I was betraying Robin by being with the thing that killed her.”

“Hughie,” you say, your voice gentle. “You have nothing to feel bad about. Whatever happened, whatever you’ve done is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

Hughie nods, softly at first before gradually becoming more confident.

“Me and Annie, we, uh, we’re not a thing anymore.”

“Oh?” you pry.

“It’s complicated,” he shrugs. “But now Butcher is pissed. He was sort of hoping that my relationship with Annie would get us closer to Vought, you know, use her a little bit. But now that things have fallen apart, I think Butcher feels like I’ve wasted my one chance to be a useful member of the team.”

“Listen, Hughie,” you shake your head. “Butcher has kicked off about far less in the past. If he wanted you off the team, you’d be gone by now. Trust me.”

Hughie shifts on the bench, turning his body to face you, careful to keep his knee from brushing against your leg.

“I’m sorry, (y/n)” he says, shaking his head slightly as he furrows his brow. “I should have asked this before but, uh, what happened with you and Butcher, exactly?”

You can’t help the dry laugh that escapes your lips, throwing your head back.

“Where do I even start?” you laugh.

Hughie lets out a small chuckle with you, though he can’t disguise the fact that he is desperate to know what went down. Catching his eye, you give in.

“I was seeing this guy, Adam, when I first met Butcher. God, this was years ago now,” you laugh. “We were kind of on and off, he was all over the place, mentally, I mean. I loved him though. Like, love of my life, kind of love. I was ready to put up with all of his shit, all of his disappearing, everything,” you say, forcing out a chuckle to stop yourself from crying.

Hughie nods, lifting his arm awkwardly in an attempt to comfort you before placing his hand back on his lap.

“To save some time I’ll just cut to the actually interesting part. Adam was a supe.”

Hughie stares at you in disbelief. You shrug your shoulders in response.

“I find it so hard to believe that you of all people dated a supe. Did you know he was a supe when yo-”

“No,” you cut him off. “I had no idea he was a supe. Neither did Butcher. Adam wasn’t one of the A-listers, but he did have a pretty impressive power. He was some kind of telepath,” you shrug. “He could put thoughts into your brain, and remove your thoughts as he pleased. Hence why we never suspected him.

“Anyway, Butcher did eventually find out the truth about Adam, and he tried so hard to get through to me but whatever Adam put in my brain made that impossible. It got to a point where I didn’t trust Butcher at all, I never knew why, and I think Butcher got fed up.”

Hughie remained still in his seat as you spoke, watching your face morph from expression to expression as you told your story.

“So Butcher just… kicked you out?” Hughie said. “ I can’t believe he would just give up on you like that, especially after everything he’s done for me.”

You offer Hughie a soft smile in response, shaking your head gently.

“Butcher didn’t outright kick me out, although I’d understand if he had done. Adam actually proposed to me.”

The shocked expression returned to Hughie’s face, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Adam wanted to move to Vegas so, obviously, I dropped everything to follow him there. I told Butcher that I was leaving the team to be with Adam. I didn’t mean it, of course, I was just so in love, so under Adam’s spell that I would do and say anything to make him happy. Butcher didn’t like that, obviously, so he effectively banished me. ‘ Said if he ever saw me again, he’d kill me.”

Hughie turns in his seat, hunched over with his head in his hands as he takes in every word of what you had just said.

“Butcher just let you leave?” He asks, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “He seriously made no attempt to stop you?”

“I guess he-”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if he had tried to stop you,” he interrupts you. “You were under Adam’s mind control.”

“Exactly,” you nod. “After a good couple of months in Vegas, something snapped in me. Adam couldn’t control me anymore. And - please don’t tell Butcher this,”

“I won’t,” Hughie interjects, edging closer towards you.

“When I first, I don’t know, woke up? Is that the right word?”

“Woke up works,” Hughie shrugs.

“Okay,” you laugh. “When I finally woke up, I was so, so mad at Butcher. I blamed him for a while for not protecting me, for giving up on me. But I know in reality,” you sigh, “there was nothing that he could have done.”

“I imagine it took you a long time to come to terms with that,” Hughie says, his voice quieter than before as he ducks his head even further towards you.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I only really came to terms with it when I snapped. I actually stayed with Adam for a couple of days after I woke up, trying to think of the best escape plan. I spent two days pretending that I was still under his control before I couldn’t handle it anymore. I killed him.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while after that, both staring into the distance, past the view of the city and towards the pale late morning sky.

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Hughie asks, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“I, god, Hughie, I’ve never thought about that,” you laugh, dryly. “I guess -”

“You don’t need to have an answer, (y/n),” he smiles.

You can’t help but smile back at him as you think more on his question.

“I actually stayed in Vegas to kill supes. The whole city is a goldmine for washed up supes so it was good practice for whenever I chose to return.”

“Do you think maybe, no. I shouldn’t say it,” Hughie interrupts himself.

“No, no, Hughie. Please say it,” you say, practically begging Hughie for an answer to his question that is sure to plague you otherwise.

“Maybe,” he sighs, pulling himself up from the bench, standing before you. “Maybe you were trying to prove to yourself that you were still a supe hunter? That Butcher would still want you on the team after everything?”

You had no words. Hughie was right, of course he was. But what could you possibly say in response to that information?

You remain seated in silence for a little while longer before finally deciding to stand beside Hughie.

“Come on,” he says, his voice soft. “We should be heading back.”

A/N let me know if you want a part two to this!

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jennay · 9 months

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Bad Day

Jamie Bower x reader

Request: I’m not sure if you’re still going to write about Jamie, but I’d like to see how the reader helps Jamie through a bad day. Or vice versa.

An: I hope this is what you were looking for 💜

Words: 1500ish

Warnings: None

Master List

You could always tell when Jamie had a bad day. His usual smile faded into a grimace, his familiar loud laughter was silenced, and he withdrew into himself.

You found him on the deck, sitting on a chair with his feet kicked up on the short table. His sunglasses hid his eyes.

You noticed his long-sleeved button-up shirt hanging off his chair, leaving him in his white undershirt. He must have been sweating in the summer heat but didn't seem to care.

"You ok?" You ask as you plop down on the chair beside him. You rest your hand on his back to comfort him.

He shook his head slightly, barely acknowledging your presence. He seemed lost in his own world.

"Hey, talk to me." You say softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

Jamie flinches and pulls away, biting his bottom lip nervously. "I've just had a bad day, darling." He mumbles, avoiding your eyes.

You sigh, moving closer to him, trying to bridge the gap. You tilt your head and look at him with concern. "Wanna talk about it?" You ask gently.

He hesitates, slowly removing his sunglasses and clips them to his shirt. His eyes aren't shining like they usually do.

Instead, you can see a tint of red shading the whites of his eyes. You'd seen Jamie cry before, but it was a rare occasion. He always found some optimism to keep his mind cluttered with happy thoughts.

He closes his eyes and leans back, letting out a long breath. "I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed. It's nothing to worry about." You can hear the ting of pain in his voice.

You don't push him to talk; you know it's not the best way to help him. You wait patiently, trusting that he will open up when ready. "I have an idea." You say, breaking the silence. "Let's go take the pups for a walk." You suggest, hoping to cheer him up.

Jamie smiles faintly, appreciating your gesture. He opens his eyes and nods, getting up from his seat. "Good idea." He agrees, reaching for your hand.

You follow him back into your house, grabbing the leashes from the hook by the door. "Should we drive somewhere, or should we take them around the block?" You ask, looking at him expectantly.

Jamie clips the leash on the black lab, who is wagging his tail excitedly. You're thankful he took hold of Ash. You loved the dog, but he was a little wilder than your white and brown Frenchie, whom you named Charlie.

Charlie sits patiently by your feet, waiting for you to attach his leash.

"I think we should go down to the lake. Get these dogs exhausted." He grins widely, his blue eyes shining as he cracks a joke. "You could use some sun. You're getting a bit pale, love." He teases, poking your cheek.

You roll your eyes and smile, feeling a blush creep up. "Not everyone was blessed with perfect skin, Jamie." You retort, clipping Charlie's leash and standing up.

He laughs and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "You're perfect to me, darling." He whispers in your ear, making you shiver.

He kisses your cheek and then lets go, heading for the door. "Come on, let's go have some fun." He says, opening the door and letting the dogs out.

"I love you." You gush as you walk down the driveway and to Jamie's SUV. He opens the trunk, letting the dogs jump in, but bursts into laughter when he sees Charlie's stubby legs struggling to jump.

He bends down and picks up the small dog, "It's ok, buddy, I'll help you." Jamie kisses the top of the dog's head and puts him next to Ash. "Be good." He says, pointing at Ash. "And don't eat Charlie." He adds, making you laugh.

You giggle while getting into the car, and Jamie does the same. He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway. His free hand lands on your thigh, and you don't hesitate to lace your fingers with his.

"You know, I love you too." He says, looking at you with a smile. "But I love Charlie the most." He jokes, making you gasp.

"How dare you!" You exclaim, pretending to be offended. "Charlie is my baby, not yours!" You argue, squeezing his hand.

He chuckles and kisses your hand, then looks at the road. "Fine, fine. You can have Charlie. But I get Ash." He says as if he's making a fair deal.

You shake your head and smile, feeling happy and playful. "Deal."

When you arrive at the lake, you hardly wait for the car to stop before you open the door. You jump out and head to the back of the SUV to get the dogs out. Jamie urges you to wait, worried that Ash will tackle you again. You know he's right, but you're too excited to care. You open the trunk and let the dogs out, who immediately run towards the water. You follow them, laughing as they splash and play.

Jamie joins you, grabbing a frisbee from the car. He throws it into the air, and Ash leaps to catch it. Charlie tries to chase him, but he's too slow and clumsy. He barks and whines, wanting to join the fun.

You pick him up and cuddle him, kissing his nose. "Don't worry, Charlie. You're the goodest boy." You whisper, making him wag his tail.

When your eyes meet Jamie’s gaze, you nearly melt. He looks so happy and relaxed, and you are thankful for the change in his mood. You put Charlie down and run towards Jamie, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugs you back, lifts you off the ground, and spins you around, making you giggle. He peppers kisses all over your face, and you melt in his arms.

“That was adorable.”

You gently grab his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and guiding him to sit with you on a bench while the dogs chase each other around. "Thank you for this." He quietly says. "I feel better." He admits, leaning back and putting his arm around your shoulders. "You always know what to do."

You lean your head on his chest, admiring the view of the lake. The water is calm and clear, reflecting the blue sky and the white clouds. The sun shines brightly, warming your skin and making the lake sparkle. You see some ducks and geese swimming in the distance, creating ripples on the surface. The shore is lined with green grass and colorful flowers, adding a touch of nature to the scene. You hear barking and splashing from the dogs, who are blasting in the water.

Jamie breaks the silence, speaking softly. "I was feeling stuck." He admits. "I was feeling like it didn't matter how hard I tried. I like staying busy, and lately, everything's at a standstill. I got trapped in my mind." He says, looking away. "And then I started wondering why you stay with me. I'm a chaotic mess, and I'm gone all the time. I feel that I don't give you the attention you deserve."

You lightly sigh, placing your hand on his chest next to your face. "You've done so much in these last two years. You should be proud of yourself." You say softly, tilting your head up and kissing his jaw lightly. "You pay enough attention to me, and when you have to go, it makes it much more special when you come back."

He turns and meets your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or resentment. He sees none, only care and sincerity. He feels grateful for you, the one who always supports and understands him.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, holding your gaze. "Thank you for being with me." He says sincerely, making your heart melt. "And thank you for loving me."

You wrap your arm around his waist, holding him tight. He strokes your hair gently.

“No matter what your brain tells you, I need you to know you're worth the world. You'll always be perfect to me."

You stay cuddled like that for a while, enjoying each other’s presence and warmth. You don’t need many words to express your love because you can feel it in every touch and every breath. He’s your everything, and you’re his. Nothing can or will ever change that.

Tags: @wonnou

#jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell x reader #jamie bower #jamie bower x reader #jamie bower x you #jamie bower x y/n #jamie fanfic #jamie campbell bower x you

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

Text

series masterlist

Summary: In the remains of North America, the Capitol city of Hawkins holds onto its vice-like grip on the twelve districts it runs. Each year, two tributes are sent from each district to compete to the death in an arena. These are the Hunger Games.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, explicit language, homophobia, canon-typical violence,

Chapter Two: the sun is going down

The next morning, Billy is woken up by the gentle sound of rain. For a second, he lets himself think that he’s back in Six, water dripping against his blanket and Max humming against the noise.

But that’s not the truth. The truth is that he’s in the Capitol, preparing for his death, sleeping in a bed that dwarfs him, and giving into delusions. With an effort, he sits up and sees out the window that it’s sunny and cloudless, definitely not raining. When he looks around the room, he doesn’t find anything that could be making the sound.

“What the fuck,” he whispers to himself, scooting to the edge of the bed. It seems a little early in the games to be hearing things and going crazy, but maybe he was closer to that edge than he thought.

“Mr. Hargrove, good morning,” an automated voice chimes, turning the lights on and stopping the rain noise. “Your breakfast is waiting in the common area, whenever you are ready. Do not forget to take advantage of the excellent views provided through your window!” The window screen shifts to show the view of the Capitol. Billy can’t decide if it’s beautiful or horrific, the extremely bright colorful buildings that clash with each other. He’s not used to the colors here, yet, because District Six was drab and flat. In all honesty, he prefers the colorless view of Six.

Billy grabs a shirt from the dressing table and shoves it over his head while walking down the stairs, only tripping once. Someone wolf whistles at him and another, unfamiliar voice calls him out on sleeping late, which he doesn’t respond to because he has no idea what time it is.

“It’s training day!” announces Dmitri excitedly, the fear and hesitation from last night gone away. He paces around the room, stopping by the different people. Kali and Heather’s designers are sitting in the sitting area, Kali’s legs tucked underneath her. Dark makeup around her eyes makes them shine sharply at everything she looks up.

“Grab a bite to eat, hotshot,” says Heather, her mouth full. She grabs one of the brightly colored apples and throws it at his head. He catches it in one hand and takes a bite, his eyebrows raised at her. Innocently, she shrugs and goes back to her food.

With his plate piled high, Billy digs into the food, by going using utensils and eating with his hands. “Hargrove, manners,” scolds Dmitri, handing him a fork.

“Thanks,” he says, his mouth stuffed with pancakes. Just to be an asshole, Billy sticks the fork in his plate and keeps eating with his hands.

“You district people are so disrespectful,” mutters one of Heather’s stylists loudly enough for them to hear. Heather looks down at her plate, picking at her food, and Billy white-knuckles the table.

“Yeah, we really should get our act together, right Jim? In between working for 18 hours a day and trying to care for a little sister, I’m sure I have time for etiquette classes. Of course, I would have to practice on rocks and dirt because this is more food than I’ve ever had in a week, much less one meal. I’ll try and be better in the future for your approval,” Billy challenges. He doesn’t know who the person is that said it, but they’re lucky they aren’t working closely with him. He’s not past being difficult on purpose.

“That’s enough, both of you. Billy, play nice. Frenchi, chill. Now go get ready. Kali, Val, you can take them away.” With a sigh, Kali stands up and walks over to Billy, the same heavy boots on. A jerk of her head has Billy following her down the hall and into a dressing room that he didn’t see last night. There’s a round wall of mirrors in the middle of the room that she leads him to.

“I’m sorry about Frenchi. He isn’t very good at social cues, and you make him nervous.” Kali sets him on one of the stools in the middle of the room, looking him over once before turning to the rack of clothes.

“Probably because I’m one of those disgusting district people,” says Billy, running a hand through his hair and trying to get his curls out of the way.

“He doesn’t really think that.” Billy raises his eyebrows at Kali, and she reconsiders. “Okay, maybe he does, but we both know it’s not true.”

Billy accepts her answer and sighs, He doesn’t really want to defend himself anymore. “What’s the big deal about training day?” Billy asks while she gets his clothes out. “I mean, I know I can’t learn how to become some weapons expert in one day.”

“It’s more so the gamemakers can try and figure all of you out and throw in some curveballs to the games. They say that the time you have to present your skills is the only thing they consider, but that’s bullshit. They’re pretty much always watching, so be careful what you do and who you talk to.” She hands him a shirt and matching pants, both made of thin, athletic material. The shirt fits him tightly, and the pants bunch up around his ankles, but Kali doesn’t seem concerned about it, so Billy isn’t either.

“Any other advice for my first day of school?” asks Billy, crossing his arms in front of his chest and stepping down off the platform.

“You’re going to want to go straight for the weapons training. Don’t do that. For one, it lets your competitors know what your strengths are, and it also is pretty much a waste of time. If you don’t know how to kill someone with a knife now, you’re not going to learn anything with everyone watching you. Go to the survival stations: finding food, starting fires, keeping warm, getting water. Those are the things you really need to know out there.”

“I’m guessing you can’t tell me what the arena is going to look like this year?”

“I don’t even know that it is,” answers Kali truthfully. “And if I did I couldn’t tell you, no matter how much I want to. You know, this is my first year doing this, but I think I might be royally fucking it up. I’m pretty sure I��ve heard warnings about getting attached to your tribute, yet here I am.”

“Aw, you’re getting attached to me?” Billy mocks, hiding a smile by playing with his hair. “I’m flattered, Kali.”

“Don’t push it,” warns Kali, shoving him in the side. He can see her grin, though. “You’re starting to sound like one of those shitty Capitol pop songs.”

Billy lets out a low groan, closing his eyes. “Don’t even bring those up. If I hear one of those upbeat tunes again I’m going to beat someone up.”

“I know,” agrees Kali solemnly. Then, excitedly grabbing his arm and digging in with his nails, she says, “Have you heard the stuff District Five produces? With the drums and shit?”

“Now you’re talking my language. Nothing beats screaming to that in the middle of the night. They used to blast it in my warehouse when the boss was in a good mood. It made the days a lot more bearable.” Those days were the best ones that Billy had in District Six. He could get lost in the music and ignore the blisters on his hands and the ache in his knees. Max would ask him at the end of the day why he was in such a good mood, why he was suddenly humming and tapping his fingers.

That’s when he started showing her the music too, sneaking away from work during his lunch hour when she didn’t have school and stealing tapes for the beat-up radio he found in an old transport. They would sit next to each other, smoke dangling between his fingers, heads nodding along to the beat. When the time was running low, he would send her back to school and try to make it back on time. Most of the time he didn’t and took his rightful beatings for it, but it was worth it. It was worth it to bond with Max, to escape himself.

“I listened to it when I was in school and I wanted to punch someone. I still do that, actually. If I can’t use violence, then I can listen to someone who’s describing what it’s like.” Kali helps him down off the stool and sits him down in one of the chairs. She takes a brush in her hands and runs it through his hair, teasing the curls.

The words slip out before he can process them enough to stop them from leaving his mouth. “No one’s brushed my hair since I was a little kid.” Billy doesn’t share this much with people. Ever. And he knows it’s ridiculous, that this is something he’s kept so close to his chest for all of these years, but he also knows that it’s something personal to him. Because this line of thought, this admission, comes with more baggage than he cares to admit. It causes questions and answers that he can’t give.

Kali hums and keeps going, gently carding her fingers through the longer hair at the back of his neck. “I always had little siblings that wanted to brush mine.” Because she didn’t push him to say more, he doesn’t push her. It’s a comfortable agreement, a silence he’s willing to sit in.

“You’re all set,” Kali says eventually after she wrestles his hair into a bun at the back of his head. “Go get ‘em, rockstar.” Billy smiles weakly at her and wanders out of the room and into the hallway. Heather is waiting for him, leaning against the couch and picking at her nails.

“Finally.” Hopper’s gruff voice sounds from somewhere buried on the couch, blankets and pillows scattered haphazardly on top. “I should've known you would be the one to take longer getting ready. Would’ve woken you up earlier.” He emerges from the couch and straightens his shirt, staring at the two of them.

“Are we just going to stand here, or…?” asks Heather. Hopper takes the words as a sign to get moving. Without checking to see if they’re following behind, he walks to the elevator and punches in one of the buttons.

“I’m sure you know what happens today. It’s the same every year, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. You’ll go to the training center, which is a fancy name for the bottom floor, then they’ll teach you a bunch of stuff that might or might not help you, depending on how capable learners you are.”

Billy can tell the comment is more directed at him. Leaning in close, he says, “Don’t worry, Jim. I can listen when I want to, that just doesn’t seem to happen a lot when you’re the one talking.”

“Funny,” he deadpans, face impassive as it stares forward. “It’s not like I’m trying to help. I’ve obviously never been through this before, so ignore me.” Heather rolls her eyes at the pair of them and slaps Billy lightly on the arm.

“Happily.” Billy crowds against one side of the elevator in the corner, wanting to get away from Hopper and Heather. There’s only so long he can take being around other people, especially when he doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like he needs to try and make friends with Heather, she’s sort of stuck with him.

The elevator door slides open with a musical note and they pile out, Hopper following last. The room they walk out into is cavernous, with high ceilings and training equipment. Half of the room, it seems, is designated to weapons and the rest is survival skills, like hunting and making fires.

All of the other contestants are standing in a roped-off section in two lines, Heather’s and Billy’s and one other spot waiting to be filled. With a lazy salute and a glare combo, Hopper re-exits the room.

Billy files into place, his hands gripped firmly behind his back. Heather stands behind him, fidgeting with her hands. Time ticks by as they wait for the last tribute to enter the room murmurs starting among them. Billy realizes from the missing face that it’s Steve who’s absent. A dim sense of worry fills him, but it’s distant, in the background to the noise filling his head.

He needs to focus on himself, not let a pretty face distract him. There’s no time for that. It’s even more of a danger than it usually is, here, in this environment.

So, when Steve finally enters the room, dragging his feet and rubbing his eye, Billy only wonders for a second if he’s okay. His heart only gives a little kick at the fact that Steve’s hair is adorably mused, that his eyes have dark rings around them. He tears his eyes away before he can be distracted anymore by Steve Harrington.

A blonde peacekeeper moves to the middle of the. lines of tributes and starts talking in a controlled, loud voice. “Tributes, you may think that the games start in the arena, but that’s simply not the truth. The games started the second your name was drawn, the second the first camera saw your face. They started when you woke up on the day of the reaping. Now, they’re still going. This is your chance to give yourself a boost when the games start. You want to make friends, talk about your feelings? Go sit in the corner and give up. This room is where you will train your hardest, where you will learn skills to help you in the games. I don’t just mean how to fight, though, as some of you will be inclined to take this time to learn how to use new weapons. A small percent of you will actually die from each other’s direct violence. The rest will die due to starvation, weather elements, disease, infection, and animal behavior. Don’t for a second think that you’re going to win until you do. Now, go.” Billy waits until the first person moves, one of the District One tributes, and heads straight to the fire-making station. It’s not something he knows how to do, definitely not something he’s done before, and he’s inclined to take the peacekeeper’s words to heart. He can wave goodbye to his chances of winning if he doesn’t even know how to survive out there.

Heather heads to the station across from him, and together they learn how to start fires using different woods and materials. The first flame Billy starts dies out almost immediately. The next one lasts around a minute before he blows on it too hard and it goes out. On the third try, he smothers it with too much kindling, and it becomes nothing but a pile of burned wood. But he keeps trying, because he’s seen people in the games who end up curled into a ball, freezing cold, and not thinking straight. Billy may not know how to shoot a bow or use a sword, but he knows he can count on his instincts, and on his smarts to get him through. He’s quick on his feet and he knows how to play dirty.

By the time Heather has made around ten fires, Billy has his first one started, smoke billowing out from the top furiously. A little late, he realizes that a fire like this would be a dead giveaway if people were looking for smoke or light. The chances that he’ll actually be able to make a fire in the games is slim, but it still seems, at least to him, to be an important thing to know.

No one else comes near Billy and Heather, and Billy doesn’t know how to take that. At most of the other stations, there are at least three people, some mingling from different districts. People are keeping their distance from Billy and Heather, though.

“I think I might have scared everyone away,” mutters Billy into the fire, glancing at Heather. If she’s bothered by it, she doesn’t show.

“More learning for us. Plus, it’s not like any of them would actually help us anyway. They could drag us along for a while, pretend like we're friends, but in the end, it’s us or them.” Heather doesn’t bring up the fact that it’s also Billy or Heather when it comes down to it. They can’t both win, they can just help each other get as far as possible.

“Let’s go to the identifying plants station,” suggests Heather. “I don’t know shit about finding food.”

“I don’t either,” says Billy, standing up and brushing the dirt off his hands. “Shall we?” He doesn’t wait for Heather to follow before he walks away. She’ll follow him if she wants to, and he won’t force her if she doesn’t.

For what seems like forever, Billy and Heather quiz each other on the plants and animals that are okay to eat and which ones aren’t. His head swims with shapes and colors, plant names forming into the imagery of the different violent deaths described by the book in front of him.

Again, no one bothers them from the other districts. Billy wishes that Steve would look at him, but it’s not like he’s at his best right now. Studying was never his strong suit, not that he had a lot of time to work on it. His hair is anxiously mused from running his hands through it continuously, and his lips are chapped and red from biting them.

A few times, Billy catches the eyes of the other tributes watching him and Heather, hiding laughs behind their hands. “I’m about to knock the light out of those smug faces,” Billy grits out, fingers tapping against the book in front of him.

“Not now,” complains Heather, slapping his sounder lightly. “We still have to figure out how to cook meat.” She shakes her copy of the book in front of his face, taunting him.

“You put it over a fire, it can’t be that hard. And you aren’t helping yourself by shoving that thing in my face. That actually makes me want to punch you instead of them.”

She narrows his eyes at him and accentuates each of her words with a poke in his chest. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.” With a glint in her eyes, she smiles wickedly and says, “Do you want to beat some of that anger out?”

“I wish I could, but I think I remember being on specific instructions not to show off our skills, and my only skill is my severe aggression.” Billy flops onto the floor miserably, splaying out like a starfish.

“There are other ways to be aggressive than with fists, dumbass.” Standing up, Heather holds out a hand to Billy, which he accepts after a moment of suspicious staring.

“I’ve never spoken to someone without starting a fight,” Billy says, realizing his words too late. “That’s not what I was trying to say. I mean, if we go over there and try to talk to them, the probability of me hitting them increases by a lot.”

“I’ll hold you back,” Heather responds solemnly. “And I won’t let you do all the talking.” She grabs his arm and hauls him towards the largest group of people, which mainly consists of the careers from one and two. The fact that Steve is part of that group might make him pick up his pace and catch a glimpse of himself on the reflective surface of the targets.

Billy forgoes introducing himself and Heather. “You guys seem like you’re having a lot of fun,” drawls Billy, leaning against the rack of weights and taking one of them, testing it between his hands. “We were wondering something. Heather?”

“Thank you, Billy. So, how long before you guys last before you turn on each other? I mean, we can’t all win, right?” Heather’s tone is casual, but her eyes have a sharp glint to them that Billy recognizes as his own. Billy bites the inside of his lip in order to keep from smiling. Sure, it’s morbid, but it’s true.

The people around him look down at their feet, shuffling around and not responding. Billy watches Steve and finds that Steve is already looking at him with inquisitive, narrowed eyes. It puts him into defensive mode immediately. The hair at his nape stands on the edge and he puts the weight down harshly. “It’s okay for you to pull shit like this but we can’t try to enjoy ourselves a little?” asks Steve, anger in his tone.

“Enjoying yourselves doesn't always mean pointing at people and laughing, Harrington,” snaps Billy, stepping forward into Steve’s space.

“Being a decent human doesn’t include reminding everyone that they’re going to die in a few days,” replies Steve, accepting Billy’s advance with one of his own. Steve is achingly close to Billy, his face mere inches away. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him right now, which is a dangerous thought on its own because there are people all around them.

“Call me a realist,” Billy retorts, shoving at Steve, who rolls his neck and exhales sharply.

“This is my cue to step in.” Heather pulls at Billy’s arm and hauls him away, fighting against his planted feet. He wrestles with her for a moment before giving in and letting himself get dragged away.

“Well, that was a lot more sexual tension than I expected,” comments Heather lightly, grinning up at Billy. “I think it’s time we head up to our rooms and cool off.”

“I don’t need to do shit,” says Billy, but he follows her anyway into the elevator. Rather violently, she jams the 7th-floor button and leans against the mirror on the back wall.

“So, are we going to talk about the Steve Harrington-shaped elephant in the room?” Heather leans her head back against the wall weakly, facing Billy with thinned eyes.

“No. Fuck off,” Billy says shortly. She must see that he’s not in the mood because she drops it and they ride the rest of the way in silence.

When the doors slide open, they’re met with a half-asleep Hopper sitting at the table, listening to whatever Dmitri is raving about. Dmitri spots them and waves, welcoming them back. Slowly, Hopper turns to them as well and narrows his eyes. With a fair amount of difficulty, Billy fights the urge to fidget in place. This isn’t school and he’s not about to get yelled at by a disappointed teacher.

“Why are the two of you back so early? Actually, I think I know. Hargrove, I’m guessing you didn’t make any friends.” Okay, so maybe he is about to get yelled at.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he protests, pointing at Heather, who looks downright offended.

“Real mature, Hargrove. Tell me to fuck off then throw me under the bus.” Billy worries for a second that he’s finally done it, finally pushed Heather too far. But her storm-clouded face returns to its usual peaceful acceptance within the blink of an eye, like she was never angry at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Billy’s never been great at judging when anger is real; he’s usually too cautious to assume it’s fake. “We did what you told us to do: learned how to make a fire, what water is usually safe, and what to scavenge for. After that, there wasn’t much left to do besides start fights, so we took off.”

“So you didn’t get into a fight?” Hopper addresses both of them, but Billy knows who he’s really asking.

“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, placing his hands on his hips. “I have more self-control than that.” Heather shoots him a doubtful look, which he happily ignores. Steve doesn’t count. He’s…different. Not like the rest of the people Billy picks fights with. He’s not randomly selected based on how long he’ll last.

“Color me impressed. Since you have time, why don’t you go shower and get the smell of dirt off you? By the time you’re done, hopefully, everyone will be here and you can get ready for your interviews later tonight.” Billy groans and Heather scoffs at Hopper, but they dutifully follow his instructions and head to their rooms. Before Heather closes her door, though, Billy blocks it with his foot.

“Thanks for, you know, not ratting me out.” Billy leans against the doorframe, pretending to be a lot more comfortable than he is. “Apologies and gratitude aren’t really my thing, but you seem to get a lot of them from me.”

Heather looks him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze and frowns. “You’re welcome. Just- don’t make it a habit, okay? I’m not sure hot-headed is the look that’s going to get us through the first night out there.” Before he gives himself permission, he’s nodding along and telling her that he’ll do better.

Kicking himself upright, he grins at her and starts to walk away, but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. “Billy?”

Instead of answering, he says, “You should present your skill tomorrow as sneaking up on people.”

Unfazed by his comment, she looks him in the eyes. Prolonged eye contact isn’t really his thing, especially when it’s serious, which is what this seems like. Usually, there are too many other things he wants to look at, too many things to analyze and watch for. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Ice runs down his spine, fight or flight kicking in. Fight is generally his response, which he can’t change now, so he whips around to face her full-on. “What are you talking about?”

To her credit, Heather doesn’t so much as flinch at him or his words.

“Your little crush on Steve. I won’t tell anyone. I think I’m the only one who noticed you looking at his lips when you were about to beat him up, so don’t worry about the others.” Despite her words, Heather’s tone matches Bily’s aggression, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent that no one talks about it or mentions the fact that you can’t seem to stay away from him, but I’m not going to mess that up, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Billy is hit by the fact that he’s lucky to have a partner like Heather to deal with this with. Anyone else might not match his anger with patience and explanations or give him as many chances to prove himself to be good, but she continues to do it with ease.

“There are…people who can’t find out.” is what he ends up saying. It’s more than she expects to hear, he thinks, because she stays silent for a moment before wrapping him in a hug.

“If you mean what I think you mean-”

“I do,” he whispers. In this moment, no one can touch him. Heather, fiercely, is his protector and his sole listener.

“-then you have a right to be angry at the world, but not at me or Steve.” She lets go of him and turns on her heels, shutting the door quietly behind her. She’s gone, just like that, leaving him open-mouthed in the hallway.

He thinks about the exchange during his shower while the smell of lavender and mint simultaneously tries to slow his mind down. He goes through the motions of drying off and getting dressed, his mind occupied elsewhere.

He’s truly never had compassion as a result of people finding out about any of his past infatuations. Anger, disgust, distrust, and disbelief, sure, but never kindness or a hug. Maybe, if he surrounded himself with the type of people that would actually accept him, but that would be a lot to explain, not even considering the fact that Neil would surely find out and have something to say about it. That was never an option for him. School friends had to stay that, if less, because Billy couldn’t trust himself once he got close to them. It was much, much easier to belittle and bully people who started figuring it out, which explains his reaction to Steve a little more to himself.

Because, at his core, Steve is dangerous to be around. He’s intoxicating and inebriating in a way that’s going to get Billy in trouble if he doesn’t distract pretty, domestic thoughts with violent, inhumane ones. The gravity that Steve pulls him in with now is nothing compared to the gravity Billy knows he’ll feel if he actually gets to know Steve, and actually learns who Steve is. That’s not something he can ever afford to get sucked into, least of all now, when all of Hawkins is watching.

Billy knows not all of Hawkins would care at all, but some would. Enough would. And Neil would, which is an ever-constant, looming shadow over any lingering or beginning feelings he has for Steve.

Billy can’t make any mistakes now. He’s already gotten closer and more attached to Heather than he meant to going into it. It would be nice to think that their friendship, however recently developed, will be an asset in the games, but he can’t believe that. Not when she’s been so kind to him, not when she’s accepted all of his flaws on prominent display without a second take. The chances that he’ll be able to kill her, in the end, are getting lower and lower. He doesn’t need to double the odds against him.

He’s all but made up his mind to not let anyone else affect him when he walks into Kali’s changing room.

“So, what magical creation do you have for me today?” asks Billy, settling on one of the cushions. He leans back on his hands, head falling back to look up at her.

“Something that’ll catch the eye of everyone out there. I’m working with what you already have,” she says, gesturing to him and reaching onto the clothing rack behind her. Moving to stand by her, Billy hums in agreement and leans over the table. She grabs a black bag and lays it down on the low table. The flaps of the bag fall open and reveal dark red and black fabric.

“These”-she takes the black piece and shoves it into his hands-“are the pants. They go on your legs. Based on that, I think you can figure out where the rest goes. I need to go get something, so get changed if you think you can do that by yourself.”

“So rude,” Billy grins, holding the pants away from him and looking at them in the light. He thinks it’s made of some sort of leather because it’s smooth and cool underneath his fingers. Printed onto the material are small silver trains, hovercraft, and trucks crisscrossing each other’s path.

There’s a studded belt woven into the loops of the belt that Billy is almost certain he could prick his finger on. It’s on the edge of dangerous and Billy knows for a fact that it’s not the typical style of the Capitol. It vaguely reminds him of the heavy metal-studded uniforms the train drivers wear. He’s positive it’s on purpose; Kali’s research and planning know no bounds.

The pants struggle up and fit tightly against his legs, the same way he usually wears them in Six. How Kali knows this, he has no idea, but it feels a little like he’s fitting back into his own skin.

He looks into the rounded mirror that fits around the stool and sees a different version of himself. The easy confidence and flirtatious smile are gone, but those are things he can fake later. This version of him has fluffy, clean hair that curls easily and shines, and he has sad, sad eyes. He’s not sure he can hide that, but the goal is, he thinks, not to have people looking at his face while he’s wearing this.

The next piece of clothing he puts on is a silky dark red shirt that fits his chest tightly and hugs his figure. It feels almost claustrophobic, but he doesn’t doubt Kali. Lastly, there’s a black leather jacket with the same pattern as the pants, a much more expensive version of one he has at home. His at home is worn out and losing its color, but it’s comfortable and loved. He wore it for almost a year straight when they moved to Six, because it was his mom’s dad’s and because it was one of the only things he was allowed to keep.

“I like it,” Kali says, opening the door. With a careful eye, she takes him in, moving around him and appraising him. “But we need to fix the shirt. We’re trying to show you off, make you seem confident and carefree. How would you wear this at home?”

“I wouldn’t have this many buttons done,” he answers truthfully, fidgeting with the chain on the cuff of the jacket.

Kali nods and undos the first three buttons on his shirt. The chain around his neck, a pendant his mom gave him, lays loosely on his chest, and Kali fixes it too, putting the clasp in the back. When she doesn’t ask about it, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“I have something else,” Kali says quietly. From the top drawer, she produces a silver necklace with a rectangular pendant hanging from it. Carved into the pendant is the same flower from the lighter shoved into his boot. “I know you carry that thing everywhere, so it’s obviously sentimental. Unfortunately, there’s no way they let you into the games with it; this is the next best option.” Billy has no idea how she could have known what was engraved on his lighter or how she knows he has it with him right now, but he’s not going to try and figure it out.

He doesn’t say thank you because they’re past that point. There’s no use thanking her in words because the gesture itself is beyond words. She’s taken something, a thing she can’t even know the value of to him, and she’s given him a way to carry it with him, through whatever hell he’s about to go to. It will hang next to his other charm, just to remind him what he used to be versus who he is now.

The flower necklace, in his mind, is a symbol of his mother. It has been for the longest time, ever since he found it engraved on the light that was stuffed in a box while he was alone unpacking in Six. At the time, he had been absolutely terrified of what would happen if someone found him with it. It would be hard enough to explain why a kid has a lighter, but even harder if he tried to tell them that it was his mother’s.

When he stopped pretending to be okay with things and started to force his way through life, he got the rusted golden charm he has now. It’s oval-shaped and smooth from years of him rubbing it between his fingers as a nervous habit. This charm, though, wasn't found in the bottom of a box of his mother’s things. No, it’s from one of the illegal markets in Six where he would fight, where someone claimed it was a symbol of protection. Billy just thought the woman in the middle looked sad, like she had been crying, shrouded in layers of robes and scarves, and holding her hands in prayer. Behind her, waves rolled and roses floated among them. Without thinking, he nicked it from the boxes of trinkets when he was twelve and never looked back.

He’s never taken time to think about why he chose the downtrodden charm that he did. When he was younger, he assumed that it was because it reminded him of home, his real home, at District Four. As he got older, he told people who asked that it was the first thing he got by himself, which is true. He didn’t, and still doesn’t, have many things of his own, so it was nice to have something that he chose. It didn’t matter to them why he chose it, so it didn’t matter to him either.

Now, he thinks it might be a lot more simple than that. Someone, he vaguely remembers a weathered face and green eyes, told him that it protects people. That it would scare away the big, bad things in the world. To a younger him, that was something nothing else had ever given him. Why not try something new?

It never worked to protect him, but it made him feel a little safer when he clutched it between his fingers at night.

Billy is settled on one of the many couches in the room, waiting for his interview. Just down the hall, the stage and a crowd of excited Capitol people are waiting as well. Heather sits across from him, perched on the footstool, wearing a brightly colored striped dress with her hair piled on top of her head. Her face tells him not to ask about it.

In the corner of the room, there is a small screen, showing the blue-lit stage with Murray Bauman, the announcer, sitting in a comfortable-looking midnight blue chair. The blue-colored stars decorating his eyes, his signature look, are glittery and gleaming in the stage light.

“Now we have, all the way from District Two, Steve Harrington!” The theater fills with applause as Steve walks out on the stage, long strides hiding the way his hands flutter at his sides. Before he sits, he shakes hands with Murray, smiling at him nervously.

“Steve, welcome, welcome.”

“Thank you, Murray. I’m happy to be here with you.”

“Oh, please, the pleasure is all mine.”

“No, I mean it. You’ve always been such a prominent figure to me. The games just wouldn’t be the same without you.” Steve settles into the chair, arms sitting politely in his lap, If he’s pretending to be nice, he’s doing a good job selling it.

“Well now you’re just flattering me,” Murray laughs, looking at the audience. They laugh along like puppets, mindless to the horror of what’s going on. “How does it feel to be here?”

“It’s not what I was expecting. You never really think it’s going to be you up here, and then it happens and you don’t know how to deal with it.” Steve’s words ring true to Billy, and he’s sure they do for other people. It still doesn’t feel real, so it’s somewhat comforting to know that others feel the same.

“I would say you seem to be dealing pretty well. I do want to ask you, though, about what happened at the reaping. The audience here would have my head if I don’t, so is that something you want to talk about?”

“Sure,” replies Steve easily. “Dustin, the one who got picked, is like a little brother to me. He’s as much my family as anyone else I know, and I- I couldn’t see him go through this. He’s whip-smart and he can go a lot further than I ever could, so it’s better for everyone that I’m here instead.” Steve says it like it’s simple like he isn’t doing something so incredibly selfless, so noble. He says it like he isn’t something special at all. Billy has daydreams to prove exactly otherwise.

“That’s very heartwarming. Very heartwarming indeed. How do you know this Dustin?” Murray asks the question quietly, intimately, like he’s the only one Steve is talking to. He’s had lots of practice, of course, being the Capitol’s main announcer for at least 20 years, but it never ceases to amaze Billy how good he is at getting people to open up and feel uncomfortable, and maybe, if he’s lucky, get them to answer questions they normally wouldn’t. Billy is going to be on his highest alert out there because he’s already been tricked into admitting more than usual to Kali, not that she would tell anyone.

“I used to babysit him when his mom was working nights. He doesn’t really need me anymore, but I stick around.” Steve smiles, pain behind his words. Billy isn’t close enough to Max for that to be a problem for him. Not that she would ever depend on Billy in any scenario; she has better people to count on.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Kids always need someone to keep them out of trouble,” Murray suggests, his easy smile never leaving his face. “Isn’t that right?” He draws in the audience yet again, and they raise their voices in agreement.

This time, Steve grins fully and laughs, more to himself than to the audience. It’s endearing as shit. “I can’t argue with that. Seeing what he gets into sometimes makes me appreciate my mom a lot more.” Steve’s response is a hit with the audience. They laugh along like it’s some sort of inside joke, falling into the orbit that is Steve Harrington’s charm. Billy feels himself getting dangerously closer to getting sucked in as well, so he tears his eyes away from the screen and starts up a conversation with whatever stylist is next to him, flirting his way into a comfortable banter. He can’t help but wish it was Steve who he has blushing next to him, color rising to their cheeks. He bets Steve would look adorable with blush, which is a jolting and terrifying thought, mainly because Billy Hargrove isn’t known for finding people adorable, of all things.

Steve’s interview must be over, because Steve is ducking off the stage, looking happily sheepish and thoroughly embarrassed by the loud cheers and whistles following him out. Billy wants to join in, but he can’t seem to make the words leave his chest.

Right when he thinks he’s recovering from Steve, he takes another blow. Because there Steve is, walking past him, beaming stupidly. Through the screen, Billy hadn’t been able to see the details in Steve’s light blue suit, but now that he’s up close, he can properly appreciate the small things. Turns out, the suit isn’t only blue, but it has thin white stripes running down it vertically. It fits him perfectly, accentuating his waist and shoulders.

Billy can’t help it. Despite Heather’s words earlier, Billy wants to push and prod at Steve, see how much he’ll let Billy get away with before he snaps. Any attention from those brown eyes is good attention, Billy figures. Every cell in his body is already alight with the fire that burns for Steve. He plants his feet into the ground and steps into Steve’s path. Technically, they aren’t supposed to talk to each other right now, but Billy doesn’t care. “So, pretty boy, you going to babysit your way into a good score tomorrow?” Billy teases, flicking his lip with his tongue and slowly tracing over Steve. He can’t help but be a little mean, can’t help but taunt. There’s no reason to play nice with someone who’s either going to kill him or he’s going to have to kill, especially when he’s already so weak for Steve. Stepping in front of Steve when he tries to pass through him, Billy continues blocking Steve’s path. Billy scoffs and says, “Harrington, I’m talking to you. Too busy thinking about home?”

Finally, Steve acknowledges him with more than awkward side-stepping. “No, asshole, I’m just trying to get out of here without punching you.” His voice is dripping with honey-sweet sarcasm that only serves to spur Billy on. It’s been too long since he’s been in a real fight and he’s itching to get his hands on Steve in whatever way he can before they’re legally bound to kill each other.

“Fantastic. I’ll give you a free shot to even the ground.” With his hands splayed out by his sides, Billy takes up the most space possible. For a second, Steve looks like he really wants to. His hands are fists at his sides and his jaw is clenched, but, with a breath blown up at the ceiling tiles, Steve smiles shallowly and brushes past Billy.

“Save that instinct for the arena, rockstar.” And then, Steve is gone, rounding the corner and leaving behind a stunned, yearning Billy.

He must stand there for a while because Heather sighs and snaps in front of his face. “Stop drooling, Hargrove.” There’s no one else in the room, so he pushes her off him easily and goes to sit in the corner. “Now you’re sulking. Very mature, man.” He flips her off and turns his attention back to the screen, where the girl from Two is giving her interview.

He tries to pay attention to the screen, but the interviews are boring and slow. Logically, he should be learning about his contestants and learning about them, but he figures Heather’s doing enough of that for the both of them, and if something happens to her, he’s screwed anyway without knowing how many sisters Tammy Thompson has. It’s so much easier to close his eyes and wish he’s somewhere else.

So, it comes with a flinch when a heavy hand lays on his shoulder and an unfamiliar voice says, “Mr. Hargrove, it’s your time.”

“I think that sounded a lot more sinister than you wanted it to,” comments Heather, one leg thrown over the side of his chair. “Unless you’re going to go kill him because then you appropriately announced yourself.” Billy grins and waves at her as he’s led down the hall and into a side room with a wall of curtains. He can only assume that he’s behind the stage. He’s proved correct when, without warning, the curtains part. The lights from the roof shine too brightly in his eyes, and he can feel himself almost immediately break out into a sweat.

Luckily, he’s with a trained professional. Murray gestures for him to walk over, which he does one step at a time. As he takes more steps, he feels himself gain his confidence back, no matter how shallow it is.

“Billy, it’s an honor to finally meet you. You put on quite a show yesterday at the Opening Ceremonies with that outfit of yours. Can you tell us a little about it?” Murray tilts his head to the side inquisitively, cocking one eyebrow up.

“Oh, I have absolutely no idea how it worked. I was just told what to do, and I did it,” admits Billy, his mouth twitching into a half-smile. It’s the thrill of putting on a front, acting confident when all he wants to do is hide behind the chair, which is a sickeningly familiar feeling.

“Well, that makes two of us,” laughs Murray. “I have to say, though, your fashion sense didn’t end yesterday. I absolutely love what you’re wearing tonight.” From the crowd, scattered shouts and cheers arise, and Billy raises his eyebrows at them, smirking.

“That’s all thanks to Kali, I’m afraid, although I wish I could take credit.” They think he’s being modest, playing shy, but it’s true. The least he can do is have a little fun, though. If he wants to stand out, he needs to be a little over the top, feed into whatever they already think of him. “I just undid a few buttons.” Murray laughs and pats Billy on the knee while Billy shrugs like he knows what he’s doing.

This version of him, the aggressively flirty and loud version of him, is what people seem to want from him. It was definitely what people at Six expected him to act like, so he might as well continue it now. Why change what seemed to work? It got his manager to ignore how he was obviously underage when he was hired and worked the same magic to get him entered into the fighting ring. If he’s willing to be mean enough, he could get almost anything he wanted. Not that it didn’t take a toll, it did, but he only did what was necessary to stay sane.

“Billy, I’ve got to ask for the sake of all the people I see in the crowd getting down on a knee to propose to you, do you have anyone waiting for you to come home? A nice girl with her name on your heart?” The question raises a roar from the audience, voices calling at Billy to say no, please.

“I’m afraid not, Murray,” Billy says, reaching an arm back to rest on the back of the chair and smiling.

“There’s truly no pretty face at home waiting for you to come back? I find that hard to believe. Don’t you?” Murray asks the audience, who give their reply in the form of screams and vehement nods.

“Nope. But I’ll warn you now, don’t believe a word I say. Everything is a lie.” Billy plays it off as a joke, even though it’s true. Leans into that easy confidence that comes with his guard being up like it is now.

“That’s only expected,” agrees Murray easily. “The games are a great time to be who you want to be, don’t you agree?” Billy knows he’s supposed to say yes, he’s supposed to feed into the easy conversation Murray is expertly leading and make people like him.

Of course, he doesn't agree. Nothing about this is the real him, nothing here screams Billy Hargrove. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be wearing this railroad-loving outfit, no matter how stylish and well-fitting it is. “They can be, for some people. Unfortunately, I come from a place where winners aren’t generally produced.”

“Do you think you have a chance of winning this time?” Murray asks gently, leaning forward like this is a private conversation between them. Again, Billy reminds himself that this isn’t a private conversation between friends. Everyone, even people at home, can see this plastered across every screen in Hawkins.

“I think I know how to take blows a lot better than some of the tributes before me.” Billy can feel the eyes on him as they trail down the open buttons of his shirt and zero in on the healing bruises and scars that litter his stomach. Wherever Max is, he knows she’s flinching away from the sight. He always told her that they were from fights because it was easier to pretend what was actually happening wasn’t happening at all.

“Really?” Murray looks at the audience, comical, overplayed disbelief written on his face. “Please, do tell more. I can’t imagine a person who could land a hit on you. A little birdie told me that you’re quite the fighter back in District Six.”

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a few fights,” admits Billy, leaning back in the seat. “But that’s how I know I can”- he raises his eyebrows with a smirk that feels ghostly to him, -”handle myself.”

Murray smiles widely at him and nods. “I do believe you can, Billy. I don’t doubt that for a second. Now, tell me, how do your parents feel about the fighting? Are they supportive of their boy taking blows, as you said?” Billy wants to laugh. He really, really wants to start laughing hysterically, in an unhinged display of his fucked up sense of humor. That probably wouldn’t play well with audiences, though, so he settles on a little grin.

“Well, my mom left when I was five, and my dad has other things to worry about.” It’s the politest way he can tell Murray to fuck off without actually saying the words. Sure, Neil has other things to do, like practice ignoring Billy’s existence except when he gets too angry. But Billy should play nice like everyone told him to. So, he concedes and gives them more information. “My little sister, Max, isn’t a fan though. She would rather I come home closer to dusk than dawn, and she’s getting a little tired of playing nurse.” Max has never, never played nurse to Billy. The most she’s done is comment on how his bruises look like they hurt, which was a balm in it’s own right. Ignoring it was the easiest way for both of them.

“How sweet is that, folks? Tough guy Billy over here has a little sister to take care of him. Is she as scary as you seem?” There’s a glint in Murray’s eye that tells Billy he isn’t goint to get away with a cop-out answer, but he’s also relieved by the line of conversation. Murray could have just as easily asked how losing his mom felt, and that isn’t something Billy has talked about to anyone. Ever. Hargrove men are supposed to let the past be past and focus on the future. They’re not supposed to let old wounds stop them from making new, fresh ones.

“Much scarier when she wants to be. One time when I was being a complete dick to her, she pulled a metal rod on me. Almost hit me with it too, but I knew when to shut up.” It’s not the full truth, either. Sure, he was being a dick and pushing her to come home, but he had also been absolutely terrified of going home to Neil without her. She’s always been Billy’s responsibility, Billy’s job to keep track of and keep put of danger, so when he didn’t do that, punishments came. That night, he hadn’t been able to convince her to come home. He can’t even remember why or what she had been doing that was so important, but he can’t remember much of the rest of that night either. A few too many blows to the head will do that.

“I see where she gets it,” Murray smiles, taking Billy’s hand in his own and shaking it roughly. “I’m afraid that's all the time we have tonight, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you keeping us on our toes. Billy Hargrove, everyone!” Billy knows that there’s a neon sign telling the audience to clap and another telling them to cheer, but he relishes in the feeling anyway. Maybe it’s fake, but they’re at least trying to make him feel wanted. It’s nice.

The noise dulls when he steps behind the exit curtains, and he finds a wall to lean against. It was easier than he thought it would be, getting out there and pretending to be the suave, self-assured Billy Hargrove that only exists in people's minds. He’s gotten good at faking.

Billy is escorted back to his floor with the presence of two towering gamemakers beside him. It would be comforting to have anyone else here, but the room seems to be void of its usual occupants. The only source of light is the window where city lights gleam against the black sky. He assumes that they’re all waiting for Heather to finish before they come up, so he takes the time to himself to grab one of the blue bottles and drink as much as he can stomach.

After a while, Billy hears the elevator whirl to life, and the room floods with light and life. Overlapping chattering voices and the sound of heeled footsteps fill the floor, and Billy can’t decide whether it’s welcome or unwelcome, not that it matters now.

“Why are you sitting in here with the lights off?” asks Hopper, jumping over the back of the couch and settling next to Billy.

“Because I’m a creature of the night,” he deadpans. “I will live in the dark until it absorbs me.” To prove his point, he closes his eyes and bangs his hand softly against the floor.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Heather complains. The rest of them settle around Billy on the various couches, each one choosing a more chaotic pose than the last.

“So, Billy, what’s your plan for tomorrow? Tell me what you’re going to do to woo the gamemakers and cement your spot as someone to be reckoned with.” Apparently, they’re not going to talk about the interviews that they just did, which Billy is perfectly fine with. He’d rather leave any questions they have unanswered.

“I’ve already told you, I think I should just go into the gamemaker’s showcase and wing it. It’s what I did in school,” says Billy from his spot on the couch, legs hanging in the air. He’s tired of this conversation, but he knows they’re not going to let it go.

“You didn’t graduate eighth grade,” deadpans Heather, tossing a pillow at his head, which he lets hit him.

“Hargrove, you have to come up with something to do,” Dmitri says, laying loosely on the floor.

“What about Heather?” Billy deflects, gesturing across the couch at her. “What is she going to do?”

“She is going to be throwing knives at the targets,” says Heather pleasantly. “Now, I believe you were asked a question, despite your efforts to avoid it.”

“Fine. I was planning on using one of the sparring partners they provide. Might as well use what I’m good at, right?”

“That’s generally the idea,” Dmitri agrees. “But how do you know how to fight? I don’t remember you having any training or older siblings.”

“He fought in illegal fighting rings.” Hopper shrugs and continues, yelling loudly at some invisible someone in the walls. “I was only kidding. Billy is an upstanding citizen who learned how to fight because his little sister is scary.”

“She actually is,” says Heather. “I’ve seen her punch a kid. I’m sure Billy learned from her.” Billy was actually the one who told Max to punch him. He taught her form and everything, just in case. When Susan found out, she had been less than happy, but she kept it from Neil. They all knew that Max knowing how to fight could come in handy, as long as she didn’t turn out like Billy.

“I learned to fight from my dad,” Billy says eventually, and it’s not too far from the truth, except his dad’s target hadn’t exactly been to teach Billy.

“A good father should teach his son those kinds of things,” agrees Dmitri, accepting Billy’s response. Billy barely keeps in the scream that wants to escape. “But a good father would also show up to say goodbye, so what do I know.” No one seems surprised by the comment. In fact, they all nod along, like this is something everyone knows.

Heather must see the inner panic and confusion in Billy’s face, because she explains. “It’s no secret that Neil wasn’t there. All the moms were freaking out over it, and even Susan tried to get him to say goodbye. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t see it, actually.”

“Yeah, well it’s also for the best that he didn’t come see me,” mutters Billy with enough heat in his voice to close the conversation.

“Well, I guess that’s our sign to go to sleep, then,” Dmitri says, slapping a hand on his knee and standing up. ‘Ladies, gentlemen, menaces, I will see you bright and early in the morning.”

The others follow after him in various stages of tiredness, Billy going last before Heather. With a tired smile, she bids him goodbye. He returns the smile with a small wave.

So much for not getting closer to Heather.

The gamemakers are high above Billy in a lofty room that overlooks the training area. There’s a tinted glass wall that separates them from the tributes, and it also must be soundproof, because Billy can’t hear the laughter and teasing that he can see. There’s one man in the center, though, that’s staring straight at Billy and sitting in one of the armchairs, posture straight and relaxed. Billy immedietly recognizes him as the Head Gamemaker for this year's games, Larry Kline. He’s usually a loud and boisterous man with greasy grey streaked hair, too tight suits, and a scatter of swirled tattoos along his eyes. Today, he’s the only one who doesn’t seem loud and boisterous, just contemplative and serious.

Billy waited for an hour while the other tributes before him came into this same room, showing their skills to the array of middle-aged drunk men Billy is currently fidgeting in front of.

“Billy Hargrove, District Six,” Kline says, and Billy is surprised by the fact that he can hear into the room now. He tries not to show it, though, because he knows the gamemakers will pounce on anything he does to show weakness. “You may start.”

Billy nods and shakes out his hands, letting the tension lose. To his right, there’s a table set up with cloth to wrap his hands in, but he bypasses that and heads straight to the sparring floor. There’s no reason in putting on protection now when he won’t have it in the game, and he has enough resistance built up to last one fight. Besides, if it doesn’t, he’s never let bloody and bruised knuckles stop him before.

He nods at the person across from him, taking a fighting stance. His hands shake more than he’s used to, but it’s okay. Dealing with nerves is nothing new to him.

The other person takes the first lunge forward, which Billy dodges with ease. He’s used to people underestimating his speed based on his strength, so he used it to his advantage whenever he can. He takes a jab to the shoulder in exchange for landing a solid punch in the stomach of his opponent, who doubles over for a moment but recovers quickly. It wouldn’t surprise Billy if this attendant gets punished for losing, especially to a kid from District Six.

He almost feels bad for the way the rest of the fight goes, with that in mind. Almost. The only other hit that Billy takes is a weak, last-effort elbow to his face, but Billy’s had worse than that. He thinks it’s around thirty seconds later when he has the other man pinned to the ground, an arm thrown around his neck with threat of cutting off his airway.

The first attendant stumbles off the stage and Billy motions for the next to come forward. It goes the same. Billy takes him down with minimal damage to himself in a matter of seconds. The third poses more of a challenge because she’s quick like Billy, and apparently smarter than the others as well. She doesn’t try to use brute force or trick Billy, she just stands her ground and takes her hits with grace, matching his blows with ones of her own.

He pins her too, in the end, just when the large clock below the gamemakers reminds him that he has run out of time. With a glance at the sweat and blood on the mat, he looks up at the window to find the gamemakers watching him aptly.

“Thank you for watching,” he says, grinning sharply. They already think he’s ruthless, so he might as well cement the idea. “You might want to clean that up.”

Billy’s misfit group of followers and devotees are sitting on the couches in front of the screens, plastic containers of food piled in their laps, blankets thrown on the floor randomly. Also joining them is Heather’s crew, a strange mix of people to be sharing a meal with. For the most part, the stylists are talking amongst themselves, ignoring Billy and Heather, while Dmitri, Hopper, and Kali include the tributes in their boring talk about Capitol architecture, which Hopper vehemently opposes. Billy can’t help but agree with him.

They’re waiting for the scores to come out for the showcases. So far, in a slow and theatrical process, the results have been given out for the first four districts, with an average of around a 9. Even for career contests, it’s a generally high number, which is vaguely concerning to them. Billy is pleased to note that he firmly did not pay attention when a certain male tribute score was presented, and instead gave his full attention to whatever nonsense Dmitri was droning on about.

“Now, we have the scores for the District Six tributes, Billy Hargrove and Heather Holloway.” Murray’s excited voice quells the conversation in the room, people shifting to the edges of their seats. Billy stays where he is, leaning back against the couch in an easy, relaxed posture.

An expected dramatic pause passes before Murray announces with a flourish, “Billy Hargrove, with a score of eight.” Cheers erupt from the couch, and Kali nudges her shoulder against him gently, giving him a look. He lets a confident grin settle on his face, not showing how nervous he actually was. The scores don’t mean much beyond the capability for sponsors in the game, and even then there are other ways, but it’s still good to get a high score.

“Heather Holloway, with a seven.” Billy lets out an excited cheer and reaches across the couch to grab her shoulder. She grins over at him and he knows he’ll remember this happy, hopeful version of her.

“I couldn't have predicted that it would have gone this well,” exclaims Dmitri, smiling broadly, his eyes darting between the two of them. “My tributes, both high-scoring superstars.”

“I’ve seen worse,” agrees Hopper, but Billy can see him grinning beneath his hand. “But we can’t stay up and celebrate. You two”-he points at Heather and Billy-”have big days tomorrow. You won’t sleep in the arena, so you need to get ahead now.”

“That’s not how that works,” says Heather, but she follows his instructions and trudges up the stairs. Billy follows closely behind, letting the energy drain from him with every step.

The motions to get ready for bed pass without his attention, his mind wandering aimlessly through the events of the day and landing firmly on Steve. It’s better than most of the alternatives, but still, fairly tragic and lonely when he knows it won’t get him anywhere. It’s for the best if he calls it quits now and tries to sleep.

Maybe he’ll get lucky and dream of Steve.

#harringrove #safe and sound #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve x billy #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove comfort fic #steve harrington fanfic #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Competition - Bakugou Katsuki - Victorious Inspired

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff(ish), Crack, Jealous Bakugou, tatted Bakugou Cuz we love a lil spice

Summary: You were doing homework online with your friends when a needy Bakugou wanted your attention and was pouty when he didn’t get it. After Mina slipped up and said something stupid, Bakugou assumed horrible things and went over only to find out something so very comical.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

You were in your second year of college and the work was killing you. Thankfully, this time around, your assignment was the slightest bit easier, as it was a group project. You, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina were currently working on the project through the computer while being on video chat. The night was still young and you still had plenty to do.

“Okay, after I type in this paragraph, what should the next section be abou-“ You were cut off by the sound of a little French bulldog barking and scampering your way. The cute little black dog jumped onto your lap and made itself comfortable, causing you to look down and smile at it before petting it’s ears.

“Awww, look at the little puppy!” Mina said.

“He’s cute, right? I’m watching him for my neighbor while he’s at his football game.” You explained.

“You live next to a football player?!” The pink girl exclaimed.

“I do,” you said with a smile.

“Figures. I live next to an old man who likes to throw lemons at me!” She ranted. The group all laughed at her before continuing the job.

You all worked and finished about 4 pages of the assignment. While in the midst of the 5th page, your boyfriend requested to join your video chat. “Oop, hold on. Suki’s asking to join.”

You added your junior high school sweetheart to the call and was met with a frustrated pout. “Hi babe!” You squealed.

The group all tried to say their greetings to their friend but he spoke before they could. “Where have you been?”

“What? At home.” You said.

“I’ve been calling you, texting you, and basically blowing up your phone, and you haven’t been answering for hours!” He whined. His friends got a small kick out of seeing their tough friend be a softie for his girlfriend and remained quiet to enjoy the show.

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework and-“

“What is that? Why do you have that animal on you?” He interrupted and asked as he slanted his eyes towards the small canine.

“It’s my neighbor’s dog,” you said with a pitched voice as you cradled the pup closer, almost like you were defending it’s honor.

“Her neighbor, the football player.” Mina mentioned with a sly voice. You shut your eyes and released a slow sigh as you knew what was coming.

“Football player?!” Bakugou shouted.

“Why? Why would you say that?” You said to Mina with a disappointed tone. She was one of his friends, she knew what the reaction would’ve been.

“Sorry,” she genuinely said.

“Why are you doing favors for some football player and what is he doing for you?” Bakugou seethed.

“There’s nothing going on, he’s just-“

“I’m coming over there.” He blatantly said.

“No- no. You don’t need to-“ without letting you finish, Bakugou signed off and went to get ready for his leave. You sighed at your jealous boyfriend and threw shady eyes towards Mina.

—

Some time had passed and your group had finished the 7th page. Almost done! Thank god for this being a small little assignment. Unfortunately, your boyfriend’s little fuss put you all behind schedule a little and it didn’t help that he finally made his arrival to add a little more drama to the show.

A bang was heard at your door. “Open up Y/N!”

“Uhh, I think you’re getting robbed Y/N.” Kaminari said.

“Nah, it’s just Suki.” You said to the blonde through the screen. You then turned to your front door to speak to your boyfriend who was on the other side. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Bang! Bang! Bang! “I need to talk to you!” He said.

“Sorry, door’s locked!” You replied. Unfortunately, the door busted open and you sighed in frustration. “And now it’s not.”

“He has a key?” Kirishima asked.

“No, he has a foot.” You said and then turned to your boyfriend with a sarcastic but also genuine smile. “Hi baby.”

And now here stood your angry boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki. He was dressed in his combat boots, a pair of black jeans and a white tee. He held a dark green bomber jacket in his hands that he wore due to the slightly cold weather out in the night. With the jacket off, his fully tatted arms were exposed along with the few tattoos that adorned his neck. He had his silver chain on along with a few rings and his cross piercing on his left ear and a few other random ones on his right. To anyone else, your boyfriend looked like a ruffian especially with his motorcycle that was surely parked out front. He definitely was an attractive man. Girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, and you felt so blessed to have him and have him want you and only you.

He looked like the typical bad boy who was mean as fuck and also happened to be good at everything he did. In reality, he was just your Suki who was a softie that can be a little tempered at times. Like right now.

“What is going on?!” He asked in frustration.

“You just kicked my door open!” You said as you pointed to the evidence.

“Put the dog down and tell me about this football asswipe who lives next door!” He demanded.

“No! I will not put the dog down!” You said, cradling the sweet baby even closer.

“Oh you’re not?!” He said in a threatening tone but you knew your boyfriend would never do any real harm.

“No! If you want to meet the football player then you can wait to talk to him when he gets back.” You said.

“Then I’ll wait for him!” He said, taking a seat a little bit behind you from your setup on the couch’s ottoman.

“Fine!” You said, turning back to your friends. After a second, you realized something and turned back to face him. “No kiss?”

He only stuck his tongue out at you to which you pouted in anger and did the same before turning around. However, you smiled once you felt him come up from behind you and place a peck on your cheek before going back to his spot on the couch.

“Awwww,” your group of friends cooed to which you and Bakugou both smiled and rolled your eyes.

—

Some more time passed and eventually, Mina and Kirishima both grew too tired (thanks to that college schedule) and signed off for the night. Surprisingly, Kaminari was the one who stayed up with you to continue to do the work and was more than happy to help.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” You said to the electric blonde.

“And me.” Your boyfriend said with sass in the background of your screen.

You and Kaminari continued to work until you got to the 15th and final page. Like what was previously said, very easy, very simple, very short. All you had to do was finish this last page and you’d be done! Unfortunately, the universe had different plans and an expected knock was heard at your door.

“Ouu, is that the football player?” Kaminari cooed and teased knowing Bakugou would hear.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come in!” You kindly called.

“Yeah, COME IN!” Your boyfriend rudely said, setting himself up to sit a little straighter and look a little meaner.

To his surprise, in came a young boy who was dressed in his school representative hoodie and a pair of sweats. “Hi Y/N!”

“Hi Ryu!” You said to the young boy who took a seat next to you. “Katsuki, this is my next door neighbor, Ryu. Ryu, this is my boyfriend, Katsuki.”

“Nice to meet you mister!” The boy said with excitement as he looked towards your “scary” boyfriend in the back.

“Hello Ryu.” Your boyfriend said in a defeated tone that he hid with a smile and wave towards the little boy. You smirked at your boyfriend as you recognized his tone. The tone he usually had when you proved him wrong. Ryu being the sweet boy he is also waved towards your friend at the camera to be polite.

“What’s up little man,” Kaminari said as a greeting. Ryu turned to you to pick up his little frenchie.

“Thanks for taking care of Natsu!” He said sweetly.

“Anytime kiddo!” You said, giving him the dog. Ryu pet his pup for a second before looking back at Bakugou and whispering to you. Luckily, it was loud enough for Bakugou to hear.

“Your boyfriend looks really cool!” He whispered excitedly.

“I know!” You whisper-yelled back with a smile. Kaminari let out a little laugh while Bakugou had a sad face. He felt guilty for wanting to come here to beat the shit out of a football player, only for that football player to be a cool lil kid who thought he was pretty cool too.

“Well thanks again! Bye now!” Ryu said before getting up and leaving with his dog. You waved at them until the door shut, you crossed your legs and smiled as Katsuki got up with a sigh and took Ryu’s seat next to you.

“Wow Bakugou, looks like you got some competition!” Kaminari teased. Bakugou only sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand before feeling you push on his shoulder.

“You gonna say you’re sorry~” you teasingly asked.

“You didn’t tell me he was 9!” He argued.

“You didn’t give me a chance!” You laughed out. Bakugou flopped onto his back as he began bantering with you. You both went back and forth and Kaminari chuckled to himself before signing off to let the cute couple have their time in privacy.

Bakugou remained on his back until you poked his face and he grabbed you before flipping the both of you over so that you were under him. He flopped down onto your body, getting comfortable on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair in a successful attempt to soothe him.

“Just wanted some attention from my baby.” He muffled out with a small blush. You smiled and looked towards your screen.

“Well Kaminari signed off, Natsu’s gone, and it’s just you and me. You now have my undivided attention, Suki.” You said. Bakugou sighed in content before going up to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good.” He said before tucking his head into the crevasse of your neck. You held him close while he played the small spoon and you both cuddled up nicely. If it was attention he wanted, it was attention he’d get.

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan

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mind-reader1 · 6 years

Text

Family Vacation (ES/TRR Crossover)

This is for @meeraaverywalker‘s November prompt challenge day 9: Fears and Fluffy Friday # 24 Let’s Take a Vacation for @endlessly-searching-for-you

Warnings: Jake has one not so nice nickname for Neville

Word count: 2481

Note: This is a sequel of sorts to November challenge day 5: Double Trouble. Wow! I didn’t expect the first to be so well received and loved, thanks everyone! 💜 Stay tuned for the next installment of this crossover Boys Day Out 😏 S/O to @roonarific and @brightpinkpeppercorn for helping me with all the nicknames!

(Imagine this with a corgi and it’s perfect 😂😂😂)

It had been a few months since Jake and Taylor had last seen his cousin and wife, after the first debacle meeting they had, Tay wasn’t sure it was a good idea for them to visit Cordonia, but Drake and Emma insisted, mostly Emma but Drake didn’t seem to hate the idea as much as their first kind of reunion.

“Are you sure we wouldn’t be imposing? We don’t really dress up all that often, I feel like we might be out of place at court.”

“Absolutely! If you don’t have a dress to wear, I’m sure I have one you can borrow, besides Jake will only really need one suit. We only dress up for balls and such. The only ball I think we’ll be attending is one we’re hosting in your honor!” Emma gushed over the phone to Taylor, they had kept in touch talking almost every day, Taylor finally had a girlfriend who wasn’t from La Huerta, it helped her feel normal, especially since Emma didn’t press about her past.

“I’m so excited! I’m sure Jake will be too, he actually spoke highly of Drake in his drunken state, and after, he still seemed to have some kind of respect for him. He’s never been to Europe, neither have I. Let’s take a vacation to Cordonia!” she called back into the house.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

“I’d love to, Princess!” Drake groaned as Emma hung up the phone, he could tolerate Jake for a short amount of time, but now they’d be staying with them for an entire week and Drake would have to host a ball for them, he was going to need lots of whiskey.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t fly us there,” Jake grumbled as they boarded a flight at LAX to Cordonia. Taylor rolled her eyes, Jake hated flying commercial, mostly because it meant he wasn’t going to get laid in the cockpit, it was one of his kinks Taylor had discovered the first time they flew alone somewhere.

“Because Jake, it’s a long flight and Delilah wouldn’t make it that far, besides, this way we can relax and try to get ahead of the jetlag.” They settled into their seats and Taylor took a sleeping pill, resting her head against Jake’s shoulder as the plane took off. Once the flight attendant had finished her safety spiel, he whispered conspiratorially to Tay.

“Why don’t we start this vacation off right, join the commercial mile-high club in the bathroom.” When he didn’t get an answer, he gently shifted Tay’s head off his shoulder and saw she was already fast asleep. So much for an interesting flight, he thought to himself. The flight wasn’t too long, but it felt like days to Jake since he had nothing to do but stare out the window while Taylor slept. He was excited to see his cousin again, see what royal life was like, and he thought it was pretty cool that he got to attend a ball in his honor, Mike didn’t believe him when Jake first told him. He didn’t think Jake would be excited, a ball didn’t seem like it was really his thing. It wasn’t, but Taylor was excited, and he wanted her to feel like a real princess at least once in her life and this was the perfect way to do it.

She had brought her handfasting dress to wear to the ball, it was Jake’s absolute favorite on her. She had also worn the beautiful gown to their wedding in the states, it was mostly to make his family happy and make it officially recognized since they had gotten married on La Huerta. When they arrived at the airport, Tay was still kind of groggy, but her eyes lit up when she saw a man with a sign saying ‘McKenzie.’ Drake and Emma had sent a car for them that took them to the grand estate of Valtoria. Jake and Taylor gazed up at the magnificent building, it looked like a palace! Emma rushed out to greet them, Drake shuffling behind her as staff unloaded their bags for them, taking everything to their room.

“I’m so glad you guys made it okay! Did you have a nice flight?” Emma hugged them both.

“Yes! I slept most of the way, I don’t know about Jake. I can’t believe we’re here!” “We’re so happy to have you.” Drake smiled politely, hugging Taylor before shaking Jake’s hand.

“Prince Charming, nice place you got here.”

“Thanks. Listen, please be on your best behavior at court. Don’t need you messing things up for my wife and me here.” Jake held his hands up.

“We’re on your turf now and I’m on vacation. I promise to be on my best behavior, I can’t promise there won’t be a little trouble though.” Jake grinned, and Drake immediately regret the decision to let Emma invite them.

“Well, if you guys aren’t too tired, I was thinking we could do a kind of practice run before the ball tomorrow night. Take you out to an American bar, introduce you to some of our friends.”

“You had me at bar.” Jake grinned.

“I think that sounds great! Jake needs time to get all his shenanigans out anyways.” As Tay got ready, Jake noticed she seemed to get fidgety, constantly bugging him about what to wear.

“Do you think this looks okay?” He walked over and kissed her forehead, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” She signed and flopped down onto the luxurious canopy bed. “I’m nervous Jake! What if they don’t like me? This isn��t like La Huerta, I don’t have the powers of Vaanu influencing everyone to like me.” Jake pulled her into his arms and swayed back and forth, running a hand down her hair.

“Princess, we’re not on the island anymore, haven’t been for a long time and they all still love you. Everyone who meets you loves you, Vaanu has nothing to do with it. Let’s go have fun tonight.” She took a deep breath and nodded her head, finally settling on some pants with a nice blouse. They rode to the bar together in a limo, Emma and Drake giving them a quick breakdown of their friends before introducing them.

They arrived, and all their friends were already there, walking in Taylor noticed Jake smirking at the decor, it reminded him of the cowboy bar at the Celestial, where he and Taylor had officially started dating after hooking up on the bar. “Over here!” Emma dragged them over to a large group of people standing around smiling and laughing.

“Everyone this is my cousin Jake and his wife Taylor. Jake, Taylor, this is everyone.” Jake looked them all up and down, his eyes landing on Liam first.

“You must be Simba.” Taylor rolled her eyes at Jake before smiling politely at the king.

“So nice to meet you, King Liam.” Jake settled on the red-head next to him, she scared him a little bit if he was being honest.

“Ice Queen.” Jake mused, Olivia, lifting her pants leg just slightly to reveal a sharp dagger strapped to her ankle.

“I have ten more on me.” Jake gulped and instinctively stepped in front of Taylor.

“Queen Olivia.” Emma nodded, smiling nervously, Drake chuckling at his cousin's reaction.

Hana stepped up, going straight for the hug. “I’m-”

“Lady Learns-a-lot I’m guessing.”

“Hana, right?” she nodded and smiled, everyone still really confused by Jake’s antics, Drake had forgotten to warn them. Maxwell, Kiara, and Penelope were the last ones left.

“Bonjour!”

“Frenchie.”

“Thank you, Kiara.”

“That means you must be Fifi.” Jake looked at Penelope.

“No, actually my name is-”

“Penelope, yeah my husband was just teasing.” Taylor offered her a warm smile.

“You can call me Agent Breakdance!” Maxwell was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, he loved nicknames and he would finally get to use his!

“Alrighty, Agent Breakdance it is.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” The group took instantly to Jake and Taylor, excitedly asking him questions, all of them curious how he comes up with nicknames so quickly and why he called Taylor, Princess. Maxwell and Jake, instantly bonding in a way Drake had never seen, not even Maxwell and Emma had bonded that fast.

Drake watched from the bar, a pang of sadness hitting him. No one even seemed to notice he was gone, all of them enamored with his cousin.

“Why are you hanging out at the bar all by yourself? Shouldn’t you be challenging Jake to a ride on the mechanical bull or something?” Emma teased, Drake cracked a weak smile.

“Hehe, yeah I guess I should.” So, he did, hoping that Jake would fall on his drunk ass and make a fool of himself, of course, that was asking for too much and Jake excelled, jumping off the bull with a cocky smile before helping his wife on. She on the other hand wasn’t so lucky, she went flying off, Jake somehow catching her and keeping his balance, people complained about Drake and Emma being sickenly cute, they took it to a whole new level.

“Thanks, Top Gun.” she giggled in his arms.

“Couldn’t let my favorite princess hurt herself before our vacation’s even really started.” The next day when they were getting ready for the ball, Jake helped Taylor into her dress, he kissed down her neck, wanting to take it off, but she squirmed out of his grip.

“Later Jake. We can’t be late to a ball that’s being held in our honor!” Jake sighed but she wasn’t wrong.

“Fine Princess, but I’m holding you to that later.” He put on the three-piece suit that he knew she loved and they walked out into the hall, hand in hand. They could hear the crowds voices before they could see them, echoing off the large ballroom walls. Taylor stopped in her tracks, yanking Jake’s hand back. He turned to check on her and saw her eyes wide with fear.

“Talk to me, Princess.”

“There’s so many people Jake. We’re going to be the center of attention. They’re going to want to know about us. I’m an alien and you were considered a felon at one point. That’s not exactly casual conversation. They’re going to think we’re American trash, they won’t like us. Why did we agree to this?” Her mind was spiraling with fears, some of them had even crossed Jake’s mind at some point. He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her gaze on him.

“Then to hell with them all, Princess. We know who matters, but honestly Princess I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. There isn’t a person I know out there who knows you and doesn’t love you.”

“Thank you, Jake.” She stood on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“The guests of honor, Mister, and Mrs. McKenzie!” All eyes turned to the top of the stairs as they began their descent, whispers about the beautiful woman in the stunning one of a kind dress rippled through the ballroom.

“Finally! I was just about to ask you where they were!” Their friends eagerly waited for Jake and Taylor to make their way over, fawning over her dress, a few new faces in the crowd. Jake recognized Savannah instantly, she looked like Drake.

“Jake, Taylor, I have more people for you to meet!” Maxwell dragged Bertrand, Savannah, and Bartie over.

“You must be Short Stuff, which makes you Squidward and you Cinderella.” He looked at the small little family and his other cousin smiling. Bertrand huffed at the ridiculous nickname, Savannah giggled.

“Bertrand, Bartie, and Savannah. It’s so nice to meet you all!” Taylor hugged Savannah and Bartie looked up at Jake before clinging to his legs, Jake chuckled playfully trying to shake him off.

“Reminds me of Taari.” Jake smiled at Taylor, a twinkle in his eye.

“Is that your son?” Savannah asked. Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh no. No kids yet, though after tonight Jake might be begging me to start trying.” Jake didn’t seem to hear as he was too distracted by entertaining Bartie.

“So, this is the commoner's cousin.” A tall woman with ivory skin and short blonde hair sauntered up with a short olive-skinned man, both of them sneering at Taylor and Jake. Drake and Emma rushed over, ready to defend them from Neville and Madeline, but Jake was way ahead of them.

“You must be Count Dickula and the Wicked Witch I was warned about.” Everyone around them almost spit out their drinks, chuckling at Jake’s nasty nicknames. Madeleine and Neville looked horrified, they were stunned into silence.

“Why don’t you beat it before I get some garlic and water, I would hate to make a mess for my cousins to clean up.” Taylor chimed in. Their new friends cheered as Neville and Madeleine sulked away, no idea how to respond to the American’s insults. Drake sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Why aren’t you smiling right now? What’s gotten into you?” Emma wrapped an arm around Drake’s side and glanced up at him worried.

“I’m afraid our friends like Jake better than me, they’re going to want him around more. He’s the fun wild American, I’m just the grumpy duke who’s married to their friend.” Emma turned and wrapped both arms around Drake, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“You’re my grumpy Marshmallow, you’re our grumpy Duke Walker. They love you for different reasons, for the same reasons I love you instead of Jake. You’re fiercely loyal, protective, and fun Drake. You still know how to have fun without getting us all in trouble, that’s my job.” Drake chuckled, she was definitely a troublemaker.

“Let’s get over there and hang out with our friends and family.” Drake kissed Emma, lingering a little too long for a ball.

“Think we can sneak out of here?” He whispered.

“Only if Jake and Taylor sneak out first.”

“Next time.” Emma nodded, pulling Drake back to their group. At the end of the week, Jake was happy to be heading home, but also sad to go. He and Drake had gotten past their differences, once Drake got over the stupid nicknames they actually got along together really well. Especially since their wives had become best friends.

“This was great, a perfect vacation. I’m ready to go home though.” Jake laced his fingers in Taylor’s.

“Me too.”

“Have a safe flight, let us know when you land!” Emma gave them both a hug goodbye.

“Yeah, don’t be strangers.” Drake even pulled Jake into a friendly hug, surprising everyone. They waved watching them drive off to the airport, Emma turned to Jake.

“Let’s take another vacation to visit them again soon?”

“Sure thing, Walker.” Drake chuckled.

Tagging: @notoriouscs @brightpinkpeppercorn @ooo-barff-ooo@leelee10898@princesstopgun@choicesyouplayandmore@sleepwalkingelite@roonarific @indigo39@skyila@speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis@furiousherringoperatortoad@findingdrake@sue9659@smritysriv@larryssunflower@likethetailofacomet@zaffrenotes@mrsdrakewalkerblog @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you @cgd03 @emomoustache @sophie-summer

#the royal romance #endless summer #crossover #the royal romance and endless summer crossover #jake x mc #jake x taylor #drake x emma #drake x mc #liam x oliva #choicesnovemberchallenge #family vacation #day 9 fears #day 9 #fluffy friday #lets take a vacation #cousins

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