#and im bitter and annoyed !! im trying my best to dismiss it because i think the show is badly written and presents its ideas badly

[glamfellens]

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[jennrypan]

I rewrote the part where Scourge and Sonic have that "Just like me convo" so it can fit my au of them.

____________________

Fiona cheating on him with his anti didnt make Sonic angry..

Fiona actively lying to him didnt piss him off, maybe annoyed him..but it didnt piss him off.

What did piss him off however was how she antagonized Amy and Tails, and how she seemed to preen at the slightest attention Scourge gave her..because she wanted someone to protect her..someone to care about her, he didnt know..and what set him off was how she slapped Tails away, mocked him for crying and all to impress his anti! 

"What the hell Fiona!?" 

Sonic snapped, though this just caused the vixen to roll her eyes before she looked at him..god her attitude was grating his nerves,

"What?" She mused as if she didnt just slap his best friend for no reason,

That ..that made him scowl, and without warning he moved- he wanted to actually..throw her, her attitude annoyed him, her disregard for his friends pissed him off- he hadnt accounted for Scourge actually protecting her, as when he moved..so did the green hedgehog and before he could touch Fiona a fist crushed into his cheek causing him to let out a sharp grunt and lose his footing for a brief minute, instantly turning his attention towards Scourge..he still had that same sleazy smile..taunting. 

"Bad move, blue." 

Scourge drawled out, and Sonic just clicked his tongue watching as Scourge slowly paced around him..hes been itching to fight him for who knows how long..that much Sonic knew, but Sonic just hummed,

"Oh so you can help other people besides yourself, I was beginning to worry you had no redeeming qualities!" He stated sounding visibly amused, 

Scourge just scoffed lowly, "Please, thats not a redeemin quality, raise your standards." He sneered, and without warning he ran forward..and the fight began.

Amy had since charged at Fiona but Sonic could barely focus on that as Scourge kept matching him blow for blow..only thing was Scourge was a lot more violent..a lot more aggressive.

It wasnt everyday Sonic worked up a sweat fighting an opponent as not many people matched his speed..Shadow and Metal were the only ones..now Scourge had been added to that list of people that seem to want to kill him for no reason.

"Jeez its hard to believe someone so bitter could be me, like damn dude, did your favorite jacket get discontinued?" 

Even during this fight Sonic didnt stop being taunting, as he landed on top of a rock- narrowly avoiding being kicked into a tree, watching as Scourge turned towards him, his eyes were surprisingly still shielded by his shades but Sonic could still feel him glaring at him, 

Scourge moved again and this time he successfully swiped Sonics legs from underneath him and when Sonic fell the blue hedgehog instinctively moved to the side as Scourges fist came crashing into the floor were his head had previously been,

"Lets see you keep makin jokes when I break your fuckin legs." Scourge hissed- despite his words he sounded delighted by the thought, pleased with the thought of hurting him and hes use to this from Shadow and Metal, they were both assholes who worked with Eggman on their worst days and they just genuinely didnt like him that much but Scourge? Theyve only met three times before this and he didnt remember antagonizing the male enough to make him want to hurt him that much-

Scourge charged forward once more and Sonic quickly moved to the side, arm pulling back before he crashed his fist into the side of Scourges face as he had done to him earlier..knocking the shades from his face which caused his anti to pause briefly, glancing down at the shades for a millisecond as they landed on the floor, cracked and lopsided.

That millisecond was soon forgotten as Scourge retaliated..his body moved lower and his leg rose before he kicked Sonic straight in the chest causing the male to grunt, stumbling back at the force but the kick wasnt enough as Scourge had soon punched him in the stomach,

"God- I still got a few more jokes- first, those shades were lame anyways- not a joke but a fact!" 

Sonic stated quickly, jumping out of the way from Scourge once more as the male just growled,

"Im not takin shit from someone who thinks 'Way past cool' is a thing people actually say!" Scourge retorted, 

"Hey people said it before!" 

"No ones ever said that shit before!" 

It went on like this for what seemed like a few minutes with both of them arguing with each other, Sonic just wanted to see exactly why Scourge was going out of his way to hurt him- even trying to actually break his leg if he was given the chance..the rage was so weird..he knew antis were different but he didnt expect his anti to be so..angry,  so violent- his anti seemed more like a very verbal Shadow with the way he kept attacking him, 

"Ya know being an asshole isnt as rewarding as ya think it is right?" 

Sonic questioned- grunting when he got into a tree, thankfully avoiding Amy as she chased Fiona around still, she had tried to help but Fiona kept distracting her.

"Pfft, its more rewardin than wastin my time saving a buncha useless dicks who dont deserve it!" Scourge replied, sounding amused by the sheer thought of saving someone else...Sonic couldnt imagine not wanting to save people..yeah sometimes he thought some people didnt deserve it but still, 

"Youre still a Sonic! Still me- you should want to at least try and help people!"

"Why? Cuz thats what you do?" 

Scourge just laughed and without warning he moved forward..punched him in the stomach, then his chest- he didnt wait for a retaliation as he kicked him into a tree, he found with the purpose to bruise and scar while Sonic fought to distance and distract-

His head spun for a split moment, the wind knocked out of him, 

"You dont get it! Rulin people with fear and hate, is soo much better than tryna be some glorified saint!" 

Scourge stated, his eyes were blazing..the rage was back..he looked nothing like him right now..something was off, Sonic didn't like how unhinged he was,  how cruel- 

"That isnt true, and it never will be."

Sonic declared and Scourge just sneered at him, laughing, fist pulling back as Sonic quickly moved from his spot, his knuckles slammed into bark instead of Sonics nose,

"When you finally realize not everyone deserves to be saved, when you see how much more freein it is to be above people than to depend on them- you'll be like me, all it takes is one bad day, one bad situation and you'll see that." Scourge hummed out, side stepping as Sonic went to kick him, only to have his leg grabbed and he was forcefully thrown down, causing him to grunt lowly, and without warning Scourge stepped on his chest, Sonic could only stare at him for a brief moment before he just grinned- 

"Thats where your wrong dude, a bad day doesnt just make someone a villain..but a good day? A good day could change a lot, all it takes is someone showing you an ounce of kindness, someone showin you the love you never got and you'll be like me, a good person..maybe even a hero." He stated, grinning.

He expected another mocking laugh instantly, expecting Scourges foot to press down but for a brief minute..the green hedgehog paused, eyes widening ever so slightly, and for that minute Sonic was sure he got to him..he knew deep down Scourge wasnt evil, he could just show him he didnt have to be like this, he could help him..he didnt know anything about his anti besides the fact something was severely wrong with his mental state and he took too much enjoyment in hurting him but he knew he wasnt evil.

Then.. the green hedgehog just smiled, his expression hardening as if it hadnt changed in the first place, 

"How naive." 

He sneered and that slowly shattered Sonics hopes of getting through to him..he just dismissed his words-

"Not naive..hopeful." Sonic retorted, moving his arm to grab his ankle but his foot had moved towards his neck and Sonic jolted- the malice in his eyes was so..floundering..he could never imagine that look on his own face.

"Same thing." Scourge stated dismissively, and Sonic didnt get the chance to reply as a blur of yellow and brown crashed into Scourge, pushing the older teen to the ground successfully allowing Sonic to sit up instantly,

"Get away from him you bully!" Tails screamed, Sonic heard Scourge cursing and soon Tails was thrown back, causing Sonic to quickly move to catch him.

"Thanks bud." Sonic murmured, staring at Scourge who just fixed his jacket- appearing inconvenienced as Fiona neatly landing besides him as Amy ran up next to Sonic, "Stop running you coward!" The pink hedgehog hissed, Scourge just plucked out a warp ring from his jacket, just smiling at Sonic.. His smile was so..mean looking, it was too sharp..too fake,

"Til next time blue."  

Was all Scourge said in a sing song like voice as he let Fiona into the portal first and he followed quickly after just as Amy chucked her hammer in their direction, who she was aiming at specifically he had no clue.

"Dammit! Stupid! Assholes, ugh!" Amy screamed, storming over to snatch her hammer up,

"Theyre such bullies! Why did I even like her!" Tails exclaimed, Sonic just frowned before he sighed quietly, glancing from Amy to Tails. 

"Lets just go, theyre gone now, might as well enjoy the peace." He stated with a simple shrug, giving them a small smile, the smile made Amy visibly melt while it comforted Tails slightly, the young pink hedgehog was at his side instantly, clutching his arm- which he allowed for the time being while Tails was a little slower to approach him, still dejected.

He knew his anti despised him but he'll never get the reason why, and unfortunately..Scourge was too far gone to talk down from whatever path he was taking..the friendly route was no longer an option.

[haikyuuscreaming]

hello!! can you write something fluff with kenma, please? some friends to lovers if possible. loving your blog 💕💕

OH SHIT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SDFSDFJKD this is. 3.5k words roughly and im so sorry idk why my fics always come out longer than 1k words :(((

The first time you meet Kozume Kenma, he’s hiding behind the wall that is Kuroo Tetsurou and you’re both in your first year.

“Oh?” The Nekoma volleyball captain stares you down in the Chem class you share with him. “You’re [Surname]-san, right?”

“Yeah,” You say, never breaking eye contact with him but secretly eyeing the quiet boy behind him. He’s your classmate in a few other of your periods, but not this one. This class is an advanced Chemistry class, placing you conveniently with the second-years and a handful of equally smart first-years. “I need help with the homework and you’re my best bet. Could you help out?”

Kuroo narrows his eyes at you, which you don’t exactly appreciate but you don’t say anything. “You sure you don’t want me to just give answers?”

“I kinda need to understand this to pass the class, so no thanks.”

He hums in approval, like you’ve passed some test, and nods. “Sure thing. I wanted to teach Kenma this anyway.”

Oh, that’s his name… you think to yourself, and you noticed the mentioned Kenma doesn’t look up from his Nintendo Switch, even at the mention of his name. You watch Kuroo turn around to his companion, coercing him, “Kenma, get up, we’re learning Chem.”

“Can’t we do it later?” Kenma’s voice doesn’t hold anything akin to bitterness or complaint- it’s kind of devoid, actually, in a soft and cute way- and you try to tune out the sound of Kuroo scolding him but he’s so loud when he’s right next to you.

“C’mon, we’re about to go home now, we can stay after school a little longer. Plus, we get to teach this lovely lady about nuclei.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you roll your eyes lightly but before you know it, you’re defending Kozume-san. “We can always work it out, um… I dunno, maybe over lunch on Sunday? I mean, it is Friday and this thing’s due Monday and… we can have more fun studying this if we have food.”

Stupid fucking Kuroo only grins. “Oh, so you’re asking me on a date? Kinda bold, if I don’t say so myself, kouhai-chan.”

“Kuro, stop.” Kenma speaks up and his quiet voice somehow speaks volumes. “We can meet with her on Sunday to do it.” And just like that, he retreats to his Switch without another word.

Kuroo turns to you and shrugs indifferently, contrasting his previously provocative and shitfaced attitude. “The man’s laid down the law. How’s boba on Sunday sound?”

The second time you meet Kenma is on that promised study session.

He has inconspicuous earbuds in, his face illuminated by the glowing light of his DS. He has a DS, too? He still looks cute.

And there’s Kuroo of course, but he’s irrelevant to your case unless it has to do with your god forsaken chem homework.

“You want me to go order some drinks next door?” Kuroo quirks an eyebrow. “My treat.”

“Just a brown sugar milk tea, thanks,” You tell him gratefully. Thank god for men and their dead sense of chivalry.

“No boba? You’re crazy.” Kuroo scrunches his nose at you and you wish Kenma would start talking so you could avoid this big, annoying cat. “What about you, Kenma? Your usual?”

“Yeah,” is all Kenma says.

“Alright, see you nerds later,” Kuroo practically sings out, patting both of your heads like an old man, and takes something from Kenma that you don’t quite catch, but it makes Kenma glare at him.

As soon as Kuroo’s out of sight, you find it a little awkward to keep conversation with Kenma especially with his whole gamer complex, but-

Oh.

Kuroo took Kenna's DS.

“Kuroo-san’s pretty bothersome, huh,” you sigh out in an attempt to stir conversation. Lucky for you, Kenma goes along with the conversation without fight, his eyes peering over you like reflective pools of honey.

(They’re really pretty, you think.)

“Yeah,” Kenma slouches down a little bit more in his chair at the mention of his taller friend. “He’s kind of like my second mom… but not really. Always nagging me to do things.”

You laugh at his solemn, depressed answer. “It’s fun to have him around, though, right? He’s kind of funny sometimes-- the rest he’s annoying-- and he’s decently smart even though I’m pretty sure he’s got, what, three braincells.”

To your unprompted delight, Kenma laughs softly at you poking fun of Kuroo, and the conversation between you and him starts piling up into more, and more, and it all feels so short. You don’t even notice Kuroo coming back and hovering over the table.

“Eh? You and Kenma getting along without me? What a shame, you know. I really do get third-wheeled.” Kuroo lets out a wistful sigh akin to an old man and sits down, drinks in hand. “So, who’s ready to study?”

The third time you meet Kozume Kenma, it’s at your mall’s arcade.

You and your friends are playing one of those claw machines, trying to get that really cute Miku figurine and those adorable plushies, wasting all your coins on these sucker games like the dumb teenagers you are. But a glimpse of familiar, two-toned hair catches your eye.

“Hold on,” you tell your friends who’re still busy trying to get that stupidly gorgeous Sakura Miku figure. “I’m gonna be right back.”

You wander your way to the familiar head of hair, and gratefully, your instinct was right. “Kozume-san? What’re you doing here?”

Kenma practically jumps at the sound of your voice, turning around, eyes wide. “Oh. I just got lost from the team. You’re here too?”

“Mhm,” You smile, pointing at your screaming group of friends. “My friends and I are here just to chill out and have fun. You can hang with us if you want!”

He shakes his head, his hair gracefully framing his face. “Nah, I’m fine, thanks.. I’ll just hold out until Kuro sniffs me out or something.”

You furrow your brow- geez, this kid’s gonna get lost so fast-- and you gently clasp the phone he’s holding in his hand. “Can I give you my number? I’ll pick up immediately if you ever call, just give a ring.”

You fail to notice the surprise that flits over Kenma’s face, but he reluctantly hands you his phone and you tap in your number quickly. “See you around, Kozume-san. Don’t get into trouble.”

And Kenma smiles on his own accord, his face lighting up softly like a lamp under moonlight. “You too.”

The fourth time you meet Kozume Kenma, he’s at your house working on an Japanese Lit assignment.

“Oh? Kozume-kun!” You’re pleasantly surprised when your teacher pairs the two of you up. “Nice to talk with you again.”

“Yeah, “ Kenma blinks a little awkwardly and he shyly grins, which you find even more stunning than it already is because he’s usually held up such a calm, unaffected facade. “Uh. So do you want to meet up at… your house for this? So we can do the project.”

“Oh, yeah,” You wave dismissively, beaming at him because this is your chance to get closer with him. “My little brother’s a nuisance, though, so he might bother us. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No problem.. you can text me the address, because… yeah.” You find it cute how Kenma doesn’t want to mention that the two of you have been texting a lot more lately, and the slightest blush tints his cheeks.

“Of course!”

Flash to your house, the two of you are on the floor, slaving over a giant posterboard with paint and art supplies scattered about.

“I hate making movie posters, it’s so tiring…” You groan out, trying to paint Yukio Mishima’s face with the utmost care. “And this book’s so creepy… why would we wanna make a poster of it? He commits seppuku!”

Kenma grins a little bit and he looks really cute, with his hair tied up in the back and his gaze focused on the painting at hand. “You’re so easily grossed out.”

“But he made it so detailed! You're immune ‘cause you play all those gross horror games.”

He laughs quietly, and you think you're going to heaven. “You couldn't even handle Ao Oni, stop.”

You scowl at the mention of Kenma’s dumb horror games. “He’s this weird deformed grape, okay?? It was kinda scary!”

The two of you end up nowhere near finishing your poster, and you collectively decide to put it off for maybe another day. The rest of your day is spent-- c-cuddling? (no hetero, you reassured Kenma, although you were thinking otherwise)-- and playing more horror games, much to your chagrin.

(But it gave you a reason to hug Kenma tighter.)

You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve met up with Kenma now. You’re in your second-year of high school now and your bond with him as only strengthened.

He invited you eventually to walk to school with him, along with Kuroo, and you find out that it was Kuroo’s coaxing to do so. But you’re still delighted that Kenma agreed on, what, the second time Kuroo nagged him about it?

You and Kenma have gotten fairly close. You’ve vented to him, cried to him, he’s shown his emotional side, too. You’ve even gotten a little closer to Nekoma’s god, Kuroo Tetsurou (to which your friends always complain about- “you can’t take all the cute guys for yourself”). But, in your opinion, the most important part is that you’ve been getting closer to Kozume Kenma, who you once thought would always just be the quiet classmate to you. Who would always be your unattainable, close-guarded crush.

"Kenma!” You yell out, rushing over to him with your backpack practically bouncing off of you with each step. “Wait up, would you?! How do you get out of class so quick??”

 "I was waiting for you either way,” Kenma mumbles and hunches his shoulders together. “Do you wanna go to my house? I have new games and Kuroo won't be bothering us.”

“Can’t we get snacks first?” You know you sound a little bit whiny, but you’re hungry as fuck, and Kenma’s smiling either way.

“I guess.. you’re paying, though.”

“That isn’t fair at all!”

Eventually the two of you walk to your nearest 7/11 and get chips and snacks before leaving promptly, with you holding your chocolate milk and Kenma sipping apple juice. The walk to his house is full of conversation, Kenma equally engaged as you are. But as soon as you arrive at his front doorstep, the hollow noise of an empty apple juice box makes its appearance.

“You drink your juice too fast!” You tease Kenma lightly as he frowns, unlocking the door.

“You just drink too slow,” he replies and shoulders the door open. The two of you make your way inside and flop onto the couch, Kenma crouching near the TV to boot up his newest game. “Damn. I’m still thirsty, too.”

“Language, Kenma,” You chide him, throwing a pillow at him as soon as he sits down next to you on the couch. “And-” it takes every ounce of your willpower not to turn bright red. “-do you want some of my chocolate milk?”

The silence that follows is very short (probably only, what, a second or two?), but it feels like hours of painful quiet. Kenma blinks at you and the pink that dusts his ears becomes more and more prominent each second.

“Yeah… sure,” Kenma finally says and you beam so wide that you’re sure not even the sun could battle the brightness of your happiness right now. You hand him your nearly untouched chocolate milk and his fingers brush against yours as he takes it, sipping at it cautiously like he was afraid something would happen.

(Oh my god he’s so cute.. he looks so cute… he’s drinking my chocolate milk!! He’s so-)

“Oi, Kenma! My mom told me to pick up some tomatoes from y-” The door bursts open to reveal Kuroo Tetsurou.

You freeze, since Kuroo just witnessed you passing a chocolate milk box to Kenma and the latter sipping at the straw. Kenma kind of flushes, his mouth still wrapped around the plastic straw with chocolate milk halfway up.

“Eh? Sharing drinks now?” Kuroo tsks and shakes his head, a smirk gracing his stupidly arrogant face. “You know, you two could get mono. Or any other communicable diseases. Kinda risky, you know?”

“Kuroo, stop!” You’re wildly embarrassed to be caught in this not-so-platonic situation (in your opinion, at least), before Kuroo lets out a hearty laugh.

“You know, that’s an indirect kiss!”

“Didn’t I say stop?!”

“Ah, youth. Indirect kisses! You put your mouth on the straw, then he did. Romance at its finest!”

You know, deep inside, Kuroo just likes to rile you up, but you still bite the bait. “Kuroo, shut up, please??”

And Kenma speaks up for the first time during the whole banter. “Kuro, the tomatoes are on the kitchen table. Go.”

The Nekoma captain quirks an eyebrow before shrugging and heading towards the kitchen. “Thanks. Don’t do anything risky.”

“Kuroo!”

You and Kenma awkwardly glance at each other-- you note he’s still sipping your chocolate milk-- and eventually he stands off to ward Kuroo off (who keeps chuckling for no goddamn reason).

You two are alone again, and his burnt-gold eyes stare into yours.

“Did Kuro bother you?” His ears are still pinkish, but you notice that he’s still comfortable, although you can see a sheen of sweat starting to form on his face.

“Nah... “ You force your voice to stay level. “Why does he keep doing this?? God, he’s so annyoing sometimes… it isn’t like- it isn’t like we’re dating or anything.” God fucking damn stuttering.

Kenma’s eyes widen for a fraction of a millisecond, and you almost miss it, before he clears his throat. “Yeah. Not like that at all.. let’s just go back to playing.”

The atmosphere morphs into the usual, playful one that is held between the two of you, and you’re becoming proud of how much better Kenma is at redefining conversations and shifting the mood whereas in the beginning he would struggle in topic changes.

You’re so proud of him.

(And you’re kind of in love with him.)

You have a group chat with Kuroo and Kenma, unsurprisingly.

It’s, what, midnight on a school day, and the three of you are texting. Kuroo offers a game of ‘truth or dare’, and you accept out of sheer boredom. Plus, dares are so much easier to do online because you can fake nearly anything.

kuroo >:/: kenma truth or dare

kenma :): i’m not playing

YOU: yea you are !! ur not getting out of this

kenma :): fine

  don’t say anything stupid though

kuroo >:/: so whats it gonna b???

Kenma takes a good ten seconds to respond.

kenma :): truth.

kuroo >:/: you got a crush on anyone?

YOU: oooh spicy

kenma :): kuro why

Your heart races a little bit at the comment.

YOU: oh? kenma i thought we were besties :(( why wouldnt u tell me

kenma :): it isn’t that….

  kuro you already know why are you asking me that here

kuroo >:/: for my favorite kouhai [name]-chan

YOU: fuck off kuroo we all know im ur fav bc i pay for ur boba

kuroo >:/: fair

You get impatient with Kuroo’s mindless banter, so you end up texting Kenma privately.

YOU: so who is ur crush????

kenma :): why do you assume i have one

YOU: i mean….u wouldve denied it if u didnt have one?

He leaves you on seen for two minutes and you’re about to text him and complain but his reply shoots back.

kenma :): it’s you

And your heart doesn’t skip a beat. No, it just beats even faster.

The blood is rushing to your face, you can feel it, and a smile tugs at your face subconsciously. Your brain’s running a mile a minute, and you’re so outrageously shocked and unprepared that the aftermath of it all hits you just about a minute later.

(What if he’s lying? What if someone made him say that? What if-)

YOU: fr?

YOU: kenma dont mess w me

kenma :): i’m not

kenma :): you wanted to know so yeah. it’s you

kenma :): i like you and idk kuro says it’s “more than just like” and maybe he’s right

kenma :): see u at school tmr

YOU: WAIT KENMA COME BACK ???

You cute little rat, you seeth internally, happiness still radiating off of you. Is this a dream? Oh my god. Kozume Kenma likes me.

… Kozume Kenma feels the same way I feel about him.

The next day, you anxiously wait for Kenma at your doorstep. You even woke up early and had gotten ready as soon as you could, just so you could catch Kenma ASAP.

You slept surprisingly well, despite your anxiety from Kenma, and your body was filled with energy. You check your phone every two minutes, glancing at his ‘good morning text’ and praying for another one.

kenma :))): gm i’m still walking to school with u if you want… i’ll pass by your house just in case

YOU: oh!!!! yea id love to walk to school w u :))

Silence fills your ears as you anxiously pace back and forth from your doorstep to the curb of your neighborhood. You can’t help but worry as your gaze flits across every house, begging for a sign of Kenma.

(What if you’re too late, you realize in panic. What if your efforts weren’t enough?)

But then the sound of quiet-paced footsteps snaps you out, and you look up to see Kenma, standing in front of your house, an adorably shy expression painted across his face.

“Kenma!” You hate how your voice comes out kind of squeaky and high-pitched but you don’t care right now. You practically launch off of your doorstep and bound toward him, settling by his side.

He gives you a shy, adoring look but you can see the anxiety in his eyes as he points forward in the direction of Nekoma. “We can talk while walking, right?”

You smile breathlessly and your fingers brush against his. He smiles at you, and you notice the same pink dusting his ears like when he was sharing chocolate milk with you.

Two hands intertwine and the conversation begins.

You’re in your third year of college now, out on a “boys (and girl) night out”, as Kuroo deemed it.

Kenma’s got it well-made for him, striking good on his company to which you supported him through the entire time, and Kuroo’s on his way to be the scientist he’s always dreamed of being even as a nerdy-jock kid. He claims he’s practically a professional volleyball player, too, just on the side, but both you and Kenma know better.

You and Kenma have been dating ever since your second-year in high school. Which makes it just about… four-ish years now that you’ve been dating.

(Kuroo claims that in your first-year, you and Kenma were basically dating each other spiritually, but you pay him no mind.)

The three of you are out on the beach on an autumn day. It’s pretty empty, despite the warm evening sun that casts a golden shine on the sand and ocean, so you’re all making epic sandcastles in peace.

“We should make a moat,” Kuroo says, already digging out a ring around the lopsided sandcastle.

“We haven’t even finished the castle itself!” You protest, pushing him lightly as you use your other hand to pat down the base of the castle.

Kenma packs sand into a small bucket and delicately places it on top of the half-finished sand “castle” to make a tower. You find it cute how he’s the only one putting in decent effort, so you help him out by packing in another bucket of sand. “Kuro would be a terrible architect,” Kenma comments.

“You right, you right,” You sigh out while Kuroo squawks in protest. Kenma leans on you, out of instinct you think, and you kiss the top of his head gently. Kuroo covers his eyes and complains about his youth and young love before Kenma haphazardly bumps into you. Which leads to the sand castle collapsing.

“Ah- Kenma!” you cry out in panic, sweeping the sand together in a half-hearted attempt to piece it back into a cohesive castle. “Be careful!”

“No, look,” he says quietly, a small smile gracing his face.

“You worked so hard on the base too, to make it big and flat- oh?” You sit up a little bit when you see a small velvet box in the middle of the sand pile.

Kuroo gasps very loudly and you stare at Kenma in shock.

Oh my god. What’s happening, what’s happening, oh my god-

You slowly reach out for the box in the middle of the mess and take it delicately, brushing off the sand clinging to it. Your fingers pry it open with shaking fingers and you feel Kenma place his hand on your arm gently, his gorgeous honey eyes staring at you. The same honey eyes you fell in love with.

You're also in love with the gorgeous, sparkling amber ring that sits in the middle of the cushioned box.

“[Name]. I want to be married. To you. Will you marry me?” Kenma’s voice is soft and sweet but you know with the convincing sureness in his voice that he’s been practicing this line for at least a month and he’s become confident in it.

You start crying immediately (god damn it, you think to yourself) your heart blooming with joy and your entire body feels like it’s about to explode of pure happiness.

You kiss him, full on the lips with tears streaming down your face and he kisses back, his arms wrapping around you and you realize he’s crying too. With the possibly happiest voice you’ve ever used in your life, you cry out, “Of course I will!” on the beach with Kuroo clapping in the background.

Two years later on that beach, you two become the happiest couple on Earth.

[your-iron-lung]

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 8

AKA ‘Knock Knock Knock’; available to read on A03 HERE

Story Synopsis:  Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7213

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Next Chapter: 9

Notes: i dedicate this chapter to my boyfriend, who cleaned out the hole in my finger after my moms dog accidentally bit me. told me i needed stitches then slapped a bandaid on it. guess im a werewolf now awowooooooo

"He's doing it again."

There was a bitterness harbored in Nancy's voice that made Steve look up from the abysmal slop he'd been picking through on his food tray. The tenseness with which she squared her jaw made him frown, and he followed her stern gaze to where she held it, directed towards something over his shoulder.

Turning his head to see what she was referring to, Steve felt he already had a pretty good idea about what it was he was going to see, and, true enough, sitting three tables behind them sat Billy Hargrove and a group of his old friends. Instead of taking part in any of the conversations Tommy was trying to start, Billy was steadfastly ignoring him in favor of staring openly at Steve. Suppressing the slightest of shivers, Steve sighed and turned back around to his food with a resigned expression.

"Yep, he sure is," he said dryly. "Nothing I can do about it."

In the two weeks since the attack, Billy had gone through a series of shifts in demeanor when it came to interacting with Steve. When he'd first returned to school, he'd ignored him outright with a stubborn sense of determination, but his dismissal of him quickly flipped and turned into an obsession that was so prominent, people- or Nancy, at least- had begun to take notice. At any given time, if Billy happened to be in any relative proximity to Steve, he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off of him, and although people had started to talk about it, their words did little to deter him.

Nothing stopped him from staring at Steve, and the attention was beginning to make his skin crawl.

But whatever it was Billy was doing, as long as it didn't get physical, Steve found he couldn't find the energy to care. He was still nursing his wounds, and had to worry about finding a job or something so he could pay his father back for ruining the BMW, and on top of that heap of responsibilities, there was the looming threat of finals, and while he was trying to manage all of those things as best he could, the simple fact that they hadn't yet found the creature that attacked him weighed heavily on his mind.

He had nightmares about it; about it descending from the trees in a heap of vicious limbs that lashed out at him, cutting his flesh to the bone- nightmares where he hadn't acted fast enough to be able to prevent Billy from bleeding out and, and instead had to hold him in his arms while his blood ran out of him, leaving him pale and gasping as the snow turned crimson around them. Hell, he still had nightmares about the fucking demodogs, so if Billy wanted to stare at him, fine. He had more important things to worry about, though he did have to admit that he found Billy's behaviour odd.

Was he staring at him because he realized that Steve had literally saved his life and was now thinking of a way to repay him somehow? He could start by replacing the car seat he'd nearly bled to death in, if that was the case, so he could cross that worry off his list. Or was his interest in Steve fueled by something more sinister, like a desire to seek revenge for belittling him somehow, despite the fact that Steve had done his damnedest to dispel any emasculating rumours that had surfaced after the incident? The last thing he wanted was for their bad blood to start flooding the school's hallways for everyone to slosh around in.

Nancy didn't bother lowering her voice when she spoke, and despite the general ambient tone of conversation that the lunchroom carried, Jonathan overheard what she'd said, and as he came to sit down beside her, setting his brown paper lunch bag onto their table, he looked at her for a confused moment before asking, "Who's doing what?"

He looked curiously between them as he began to unpack his lunch, setting a sandwich and a piece of fruit aside while Steve breathed out another sigh and tried to shrug off the eyes he could feel boring into his back.

"It's Billy," Nancy said when Steve declined to answer. "He's staring at Steve again."

Looking annoyed, Nancy let out a little huff and finally diverted her eyes away from where Billy was sitting to give Jonathan a small smile in greeting. Despite his growing annoyance with the situation, Steve managed to find some amusement in the fact that Nancy was more bothered by Billy's behaviour than he was. It showed she still cared about him somewhat, and that was one of the few good things he felt he had left.

"Why do you think he's been doing that?" Jonathan asked as he unwrapped the plastic surrounding his sandwich. His sunken eyes looked across the lunchroom for a moment to get a look at their subject of conversation before focusing back on his tablemates.

"Who knows with that guy," Steve commented indifferently, shrugging as he stabbed a fork into the meaty portion of his meal. "As long as he stays the fuck away from me, I don't care what he does."

"Even if you don't care, I don't like it." Nancy's eyes flicked briefly back to where Billy was sitting before taking a bite of lunch. Beside her, Johnathan had grown silent, eating his food contemplatively. "It doesn't feel right. It's almost like he's planning some kind of revenge scheme."

"Well you'd think if he was angry with you he'd have done something about it by now," Jonathan said, directing his statement towards Steve as he swallowed down a bite of food. A small smear of mayo streaked across his upper lip. "So far he's shown himself to be the kind of guy who acts immediately on his feelings, you know?"

"Oh, believe me, I know," Steve replied, unable to keep the slow drawl of sarcasm out of his tone, memories of nearly being beaten to death surfacing in his mind. Despite his reluctance to credit Jonathan with a good idea, he knew that he was probably right. If Billy had some sort of beef with him, he'd definitely have taken it up with him before now.

Besides that, whenever Steve noticed him staring and returned the look, he never really thought that Billy looked angry with him. He looked more lost than anything. Confused, even. He never even seemed to realize that Steve was staring back.

"Well if he's not thinking of ways to kill you, then what is he doing?" Using a napkin, Nancy reached out and wiped away the mayo on Jonathan's face, earning a timid smile from him in thanks. "He's been giving you weird looks all week."

"Hadn't noticed," Steve murmured sarcastically.

Nancy didn't appreciate the tone with which Steve spoke, but didn't press the issue beyond giving him a reproachful look. As their conversation died off, they ate in silence, offering Steve a chance to run through a mental list of who was hiring in the area, and what places he could reasonably send in an application, but having no prior experience with working, well, anywhere, left his options sorely limited. The places that would probably hire him were the places he had no desire to work at, but at the end of the day, what was it his dad was always telling him? 'Beggars can't be choosers'.

"The more I think about it," Jonathan said, stirring Steve from his thoughts, "the more I think it looks like he's trying to figure out how to approach you."

"What?" Steve shook his head in a way that he knew made his hair look good and laughed.

"What makes you think that?" Nancy asked.

Jonathan shrugged, looking down when Steve laughed. He picked at the crust on his sandwich as he spoke, peeling bits of brown bread away as he said, "The way he's been staring at Steve kind of reminds me of... me. Like, before I got to know you guys; back when I was on the outside looking in, sort of."

"Jonathan-" Nancy started, a sympathetic look creasing her brow.

The bell that signaled the end of their lunch period rang before anything more could be said. As they stood up and prepared to discard their trays and trash, Steve cast a look back to where Billy had been sitting. The boy was gone, though; lost in the transitional migration crowd as their peers began to make their way back to class.

Even if Steve wanted nothing more to do with him, he couldn't deny the fact that he'd been bonded to him in some regard when they'd both survived the 'bear' attack. If Billy had something to say to him, he'd listen, sure, but Steve wasn't going to be the one to initiate that conversation.

They hadn't even spoken since Steve had last seen him at the hospital, and that particular conversation had been weird enough to the point where he'd decided to give Billy the widest social berth he possibly could.

Whatever Billy wanted to talk about, he'd have to come to Steve first.

Coming back to school hadn't been easy for Steve; his injuries were so incredibly less severe than Billy's that he hadn't needed to take time off, but he wished he'd been allowed to. His writing hand was constantly sore because of all the numerous stitches running up his arm, and with the amount of last minute note taking he'd been doing in preparations for finals, he was half-afraid he was going to pop a few open as a result, but at least returning so soon had given him the opportunity to pretend everything was normal, and the more time that passed that allowed him to think that, the more Steve was inclined to believe that it really had just been a bear.

A mange-ridden, rabid, larger-than-your-average bear, sure, but it was better than the alternative; it was better than the unknown.

Despite his feeble self-assurances that carried him through his school days, he couldn't deny that he held an absurd amount of trepidation when it came to the simple task of opening his locker.

The last thing he wanted was to ruin his fragile psyche by finding more notes stuffed into his locker. But as the days went by and he hadn't yet found another invitation, he allowed himself to grow comfortable in the thought that the whole ordeal was behind him, and would remain as nothing more than another traumatic memory he'd just have to learn to live with.

He could manage that much. Or at least, he hoped he could.

The note that fluttered out of his locker then as he opened it threw his newly reconstructed confidence to the breeze. Steve stared after the offending piece of paper as it fell to the floor, already feeling a slight panic start to build up in his chest. The fear that the note had something to do with the woodland parties blinded him to the fact that this shred of paper was different from the invitations he'd received before.

Printed on fine cardstock that likely would have impressed a businessman like his father with its weight, the note that came fluttering from Steve's locker was the exact opposite of what he feared it was. This was a literal scrap of college-ruled paper, torn from a notebook and folded over itself lazily.

He turned away from the note lying on the floor and closed his locker quickly. He almost walked away without picking it up, and would have, too, if he hadn't caught Billy's eye at that precise moment.

Leaning against a row of lockers further down the hall, Billy was watching him, giving Steve reason to pause. Imperceptibly, Billy broke the stare between them and nodded once to the note Steve had left on the ground. 'Pick it up', he seemed to say.

Steve squinted at him, unsure of what his motives were. Driven by curiosity, he turned back to where he'd left the note and hesitantly bent down to grab it. Relief replaced that slight feeling of panic when he realized that the note wasn't like the invitations he'd received in the past. He turned back to Billy, only to find that he'd moved on. Crinkling the piece of paper in his fist briefly, Steve stepped back to his locker and unfolded the note.

'I need to show you something.

Meet me in the parking lot.'

Despite the fact that it hadn't been signed by anyone, the note had undoubtedly been written by Billy. Anybody else would have just asked to speak with him in person.

Tucking the note into his jeans pocket, Steve sighed miserably as he made his way through the hall, an uneasy feeling about the direction his afternoon was taking settling into his gut.

That feeling was improved upon when he finally stepped outside and saw just how gloomy it was. Wet, half-frozen snowflakes were falling from an overcast sky, creating an uncomfortable slush he had to trudge through to get to the student parking lot. Wind was blowing weakly, occasionally throwing a soggy flurry into his face that he had to wipe away in order to see.

People were peeling out of the lot as quickly as they could, desperate to escape the hideous weather conditions and get somewhere warm. His fingers played with the note in his pocket as he strode through the second-hand mush of winter and made his way to where Billy stood, leaning up against his car feigning nonchalance despite the fact that Steve could see him visibly shivering.

Because of his injury, Billy had taken to wearing his coat half on, half off. The brace that he'd been outfitted with to keep his broken arm in place wouldn't fit in the tight leather sleeve of what must have been his only winter coat. A smarter man would've dressed in layers, Steve thought, and then grinned a little because he himself had dressed in layers. Dress smarter, not harder.

"Wanna tell me what this is about?" he asked as he approached Billy, holding the folded note up for him to see.

"Thought I was being pretty clear when I wrote it."

Billy obviously wasn't in the mood for their typical banter, but Steve wasn't in the mood for being serious. He'd been stewing in serious thoughts all day, and if Billy was going to give him an opening to be an ass, then he was going to take it.

"Well, I mean, this could mean any number of things," he said, opening the note to read it aloud. Billy' looked away with a scowl. "I've only ever gotten notes like these from girls, you know."

"Christ, cut the shit Harrington," Billy said, rolling his eyes. He made to stand up, but was pushed back against the Camaro, a look of surprise overtaking his features as he felt Steve's hand wind itself into his jacket.

"No, you cut the shit, Hargrove!" Steve snapped, his pent-up frustrations boiling over. "You've been staring at me all week like a girl with a crush on me, and now you send me this? What is it you've got to show me? Your fucking dick or some shit? Because believe me pal, I am not interested in whatever kind of fucked up confession this is."

After his outburst, both boys went quiet, each of them stunned into silence after Steve's sudden eruption. Around them, the parking lot was nearly empty, mercifully allowing them a privacy neither of them had thought they'd need to have this conversation.

Realizing he'd had the lapels of Billy's jacket bunched into his hands, he let Billy go and took a step back, running his hand that wasn't wrapped in bandages through his hair.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, then turned back to Billy, who had yet to say anything. "Well?" Steve snapped. "You got something you need to show me or not?"

A mirthful smile spread across Billy's face when he spoke, a mischievous spark lighting his eye. "Yeah, I do, but it's at my house. Get what I'm saying, Harrington? I'm asking you to come home with me, stud."

Steve stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking away to laugh, sucking in frigid air and snowflakes that melted in his throat. Billy shrugged his jacket back into place, covering his injured arm from the cold.

"You're a real piece of shit, Hargrove," Steve finally said, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. I'll 'come home with you', or whatever, but I swear, if you actually whip your dick out when we get there I'll fucking kill you."

"Relax, asshole, I'm not asking you over for a fucking conjugal visit," Billy drawled, rolling his eyes again. Steve waited for him to elaborate more about what the nature of the visit actually was, but Billy had evidently said all he was going to about the matter.

"You want me to follow you then?" he asked, gesturing towards where his car was parked a few rows over.

"Try to keep up," Billy replied, smirking a little bit as he rounded the front of the Camaro to the driver's side, whereupon he opened the door and slid awkwardly into the seat.

"Don't you have to wait for Max?" Steve asked, speaking loudly as Billy started his car, but he never heard the reply if there was one. Billy began reversing almost immediately, intent on driving out of the lot as fast as he could to make Steve work for it. Breathing out a hasty "Oh, shit," Steve started jogging towards his car so he wouldn't fall too far behind.

Compared to Harrington's house, Billy knew that his own had no way of stacking up against it. Hell, Steve's house had a pool and Billy's didn't even have a second fucking floor. Everyone that lived in Neil Hargrove's house all lived together on the same miserable floor, cramped together by circumstance, and even though Tommy had cast his friendship with Steve aside, that didn't stop him from talking up how awesome the fucking Harrington house was.

It was one of those things he'd had to punch him out for.

All that aside, Billy honestly didn't give a shit about the state of his house; it didn't reflect him or his worth- only his father's, for he had been the one to settle for the shit-heap. Not everyone could be born into their wealth.

Regardless, he averted his eyes away when Steve's eyes wandered up the front of his home, taking stock in its size and the rundown condition it was in after he pulled into the driveway. He didn't comment on the miserable way it sat on its foundation as he stepped out of the car, or of how grimy the windows were as he walked with Billy up the front porch steps, and even stayed quiet when the wooden boards squeaked and groaned with their weight.

As they stepped through the front door, Billy finally had to address the queer feeling he'd been harboring in his stomach as nervousness. Steve looked around their tiny living room, but refrained from saying anything about its size. But oh, how he must have wanted to; Billy could see it written all over his pretty face. The rich fuck wanted to brag about how much better his own house was, he could feel it-

"Nice set up," Steve said instead, gesturing to where Billy had his work-out equipment set out.

Whether he was being sincere or not, Billy couldn't say, but the compliment had done enough to derail his spiraling train of thought.

"Gets the job done," he replied casually, taking his coat off and throwing it over his workout bench.

"I'll say."

"What?"

"You said you had something to show me?" Steve said, frowning a little at the look on Billy's face. "Please don't tell me you took me all the way out here just to fuck with me."

"Who's fucking with who?" Billy said with a hint of a snarl curling his lip. He had to remind himself that he had been the one to initiate this gathering, and had to bite back on some of the anger that had surfaced out of nowhere. Steve didn't say anything in response, allowing Billy time to simmer down enough to point at his TV. "Turn that on."

"You bring me to your house so I can turn your TV on for you?" Steve scoffed, but Billy looked serious. "Fuck you," he said as he stepped across the living room from where he was standing to kneel down and press the power button.

The screen flickered for a moment, struggling to stabilize as the black screen turned grey before sputtering to life, the colour image slowly beginning to materialize on the screen. Steve took a few steps back as he waited for it to come into clarity, not noticing the way Billy had averted his eyes away from the TV. His gaze was, once again, fixed solely on Steve, waiting to catch and gauge his reaction from what he was about to see.

Billy had rented the VHS tape of 'American Werewolf in London' from the store after Max had returned it, intent on showing the creature on the film to Steve, but had been too unsure of how he was meant to accomplish that show him right away. They weren't friends, or even anything remotely close to that, but ever since he'd seen it he'd known he'd have to clue him in on what he'd found out eventually. That, and he had more than just the movie to show him.

As the movie scene that Billy had paused the tape on finally came to light, he felt his injured arm itch, and longed to scratch it.

"What the hell is this," Steve finally said after a moment.

His eyes had grown wide at the sight at the tormented figure of David lying on the floor, face contorted in pain as he was caught in the throes of mid transformation. It was all the affirmation that Billy needed to know that he'd been right.

"Look familiar?" Billy asked, running his tongue along his teeth.

Steve stared at the creature for a second longer before shaking his head. When he turned to Billy, his face no longer looked frightened, but angry.

"No, really, what the fuck is that?" His tone was accusatory, and he was speaking so loudly he might as well have been yelling. "If this is your idea of some kinda fucking joke-"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Billy snapped back, brow creasing as Steve went into denial. "I figured it out, asshole! The thing that got us in the woods- that thing that nearly ripped my fucking arm off- that's it! Right there on that fucking screen!"

Steve turned away from him to stare at the screen again, eyes running over the details presented to him. It did look remarkably like the creature he'd grown content to believe was a bear: the sparse patches of hair, the elongated canine jaw, and the harrowingly thin frame that carried it all left little to no doubt in his mind that this was it. Whatever 'it' was.

"How did you-" His throat had gone dry with the realization. Steve had to wet his lips before he could speak again. "How did you find this?"

Billy looked at him contemplatively, as one might watch a dog that has tried to bite them in the past but still wanted to pet it. "The rental place by the arcade. It's a movie; Max was watching it."

"A movie?" Steve balked. "So you're saying we were assaulted by a movie monster?"

"A werewolf," Billy said decisively.

The unease Steve had felt building up inside him seemed to vanish in an instant. His body wanted to shake with relief, but he wouldn't let it.

"Holy shit," he said, combing a hand through his hair, stifling a nervous laugh. He took a few steps to the side, pacing in front of the TV. "This is unbelievable."

Billy regarded his shift in demeanor calmly, but with a frown. He reached into the back pocket of his pants and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, setting it to his lips and then lighting it.

"I mean, do you hear yourself? A werewolf? C'mon, man," Steve continued, finally coming to a stop in front of Billy. He shook his head and uttered out another short laugh. "I really thought you were onto something here for a minute, you know? Werewolves aren't real. What did you expect me to do after showing me this? You want me to call Hopper up? Tell him that what he's been looking for all this time is a goddamn movie monster?!"

"Well what's your theory then?" Billy finally replied, sneering around his cigarette, his anger smoldering beneath his skin like the burning end of his cigarette. "If it looks like a werewolf, acts like a werewolf, then fuck, what the hell else could it be?!"

"A bear!" Steve shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Werewolves don't exist, dipshit!"

"Then how do you explain my arm?!" Billy hollered, throwing his cigarette to the floor. He stomped it out angrily before he lifted his injured arm up, struggling to pull the sling up and over his head. Alarmed at the action, Steve stepped in to try and stop him but was roughly shoved away. "If it's not some kind of supernatural piece of shit, then how do you explain your hand?" he hissed, throwing the sling to the floor beside the crumpled filter of his wasted cigarette.

"What about my hand?" Steve asked, speaking levelly as he watched Billy's fingers fumble with the brace, managing to all but tear it free from his arm to drop it to the ground alongside the sling. "Are you fucking insane, Hargrove? What the hell are you doing, man, your arm-"

"My arm is fine."

Billy spoke curtly, practically cutting his own sentence short in his haste to show off what he meant. He peeled the bandages that had been wrapped around his arm away with hasty, scratching motions, and then held his arm up for Steve to see it. Where there should have been sections of stripped off flesh and bruises marking where his arm had been broken, there was instead… nothing. Astonished, Steve saw that there was not a single scratch left on his tanned skin. The mutilation he'd endured was gone.

As if that wasn't evidence enough to prove something supernatural was behind his miraculous recovery, Billy stepped towards his workout station and grabbed up one of his heaviest hand weights. Without so much as a grunt of effort or slight whine of pain, he curled it effortlessly in his arm, ultimately proving that his bones were no longer broken. Steve watched his display with wide eyes, mouth dropping open in confusion, because he'd known for a fact that Billy's injuries had been substantially worse than his own, and to see that his arm was totally healed now was baffling. His own arm still had all of the stitches in it, and throbbed painfully sometimes when he wrote with it for too long.

"Your arm was broken-" he stuttered, unable to fully put words behind his thoughts.

"Yeah. In three places," Billy said morosely, as though he were upset by the fact that it now seemed to be intact and unbroken.

"But then… What the fuck…" Steve whispered, reaching out to touch Billy's bicep to feel for himself if what he was seeing was true. The contact was short lived, as Billy immediately flinched away from his touch with a disgusted look plastered all over his face.

"My hand," Steve said flatly, pulling away without a fuss. "You keep saying it's all fucked up, but I don't see it. What the hell's so wrong with it?"

"No one else sees it- not just you; I've been watching people talk to you like it's normal all goddamn week."

"Tell me what you see, then."

Steve waited patiently, giving Billy enough time to put his thoughts in order. He'd been riled up before, and looked to be struggling with how to best describe what it was he was seeing that no one else could, his eyes focused entirely on Steve's hand.

"It looks diseased," Billy finally said after a moment. "There're these… puncture marks in it that just- look infected."

"Infected," Steve repeated, looking over his hand curiously, turning it forward and back. To him, it still looked fine.

"And it smells, too, like... " Billy sniffed and then immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It smells like the air did that night. Rotten."

"It didn't bite me, though," Steve said, frowning. "My hand wasn't hurt at all."

"No," Billy said quietly. "It didn't, but whatever you saw at that bonfire did."

A chill made the small hairs on his body stand upright as Steve was forced to remember the disembodied wolfs head, picturing it in his mind with vivid clarity. He remembered its teeth sinking into his flesh, poking holes into his skin that had vanished the instant he'd thrown it away in shock. No one had believed him then, but the look on Billy's face said he was willing to believe him now, but Steve wasn't sure if he himself actually believed it anymore.

Along with his willingness to write the creature they'd encountered in the woods off as a bear, Steve had written off his experience with the wolf head as just a bad trip, and now Billy was trying to turn it into something else, forcing him to re-examine the trauma as though it was something that had actually happened.

"You can see where it bit me?" Steve asked, speaking slowly and with an air of trepidation. "And you're saying that, what, it's infected now?"

Billy didn't reply right away. There was a strange look on his face as he studied Steve for a moment, his eyes trained on the hand he claimed was injured.

"I wanna try something," he said at last, stepping past Steve and into the narrow hallway that lead to the other rooms tucked away in his house.

Steve followed after him, glancing once back at the image displayed on the screen, wondering if perhaps the idea of a werewolf existing in Hawkins wasn't as far-fetched as he initially thought it was. Walking down the short hallway to where Billy had slipped into the bathroom he shared with Max, Steve took a glance into what could have only been Billy's bedroom.

Beyond it being small, (much, much smaller than even the guest bedroom in his own home), it looked just like what a person might think Billy Hargrove's bedroom would look like. Hot women, a vanity station, and a stereo to blare his music was all a man like Billy could ever need.

"Here," Billy said, stealing Steve's attention away. "Let me see your hand."

"What? Why?" Steve asked hesitantly, holding his hand warily away from where Billy was holding out his own to take it.

"What are you, a fucking child? Just give it here," Billy said impatiently.

Groaning mentally, Steve relinquished his hand. Billy gripped him tightly around the wrist, pulling a face as he drew his hand closer towards him.

"What're you doing-"

"Just hold still."

With his other hand, Billy held a clean ball of cotton and slowly moved it towards Steve's hand, his face pinching up in disgust as he finally rubbed the ball against his skin.

"That hurt you any?" Billy asked as he released his grip over Steve's hand, switching his focus from Steve's skin to the cotton ball he'd just swabbed over it.

"N...no?"

Billy grunted lowly, furrowing his brows as he held the cotton ball up for Steve to see it. "What about this? See anything on this?"

And to his horror, Steve found that he could.

The little ball of cotton had been clean when Billy plucked it out of the package. Steve had seen that, and yet, as he stared at the gruesome mixture of pus and blood on the side Billy had used as a swab, he couldn't help but think for just a second that perhaps it had come like that. No way had that awful mixture actually come from him. The fibers of the ball were stained yellow and bright red, indicating that whatever it was that Billy was able to see on his hand was an open wound. A gruesome, open wound.

"What the hell?" he uttered, mortified by the sight of the cotton ball. He rubbed his hand over the patch of skin Billy had swabbed, but nothing came up on his fingers when he pulled them away. He ignored the way his hands had begun to shake as he inspected the back of his hand uncomprehendingly.

"You see this," Billy said, gesturing to the stained cotton ball, "but you still can't see it on you?" Steve didn't bother replying. "Fuck. Fine, alright, let me see it again."

"Why?" Steve asked, looking over his hands again and again, trying desperately to see what Billy saw and could, evidently, interact with.

"Gotta clean it out." Steve paused with his examination and looked up at Billy who'd gone back to rifling through the things he kept stored behind the sink mirror, sure he'd misheard him. When Billy caught the look of disbelief in Steve's eye he paused, placing a bottle of antiseptic on the rim of the sink. "I know you can't smell it, but I can and it fucking stinks. I can't fucking stand it anymore. If I clean it out, maybe it'll be less, I dunno, putrid."

"I mean, maybe?" Steve could admit that he had no idea if it would make a difference or not, but Billy's logic was sound. "If it'll get you to stop staring at me, have at it, I guess."

Even though Steve knew from experience that nothing Billy did to the wound would physically hurt him, he found himself recoiling out of habit when he poured the antiseptic over the back of his hand. Billy arched a brow at the reaction, but held Steve's hand firmly over the sink as the liquid flowed over his skin. It didn't run off clear.

The tainted antiseptic left murky, bloody streaks that trailed into the basin of the sink as it found its way to the drain. As the bodily fluids left whatever invisible plane they existed on, Steve thought he could catch a faint whiff of whatever smell Billy had been complaining about. A scent of what could have been construed as rotting flesh or a dead animal had begun to take up the small space of the bathroom they stood in, causing him to grimace as Billy began to clean out the wound in earnest. He would have said something witty about how focused Billy appeared to be, using q-tips and cotton swabs to clean out the hidden wound, if not for the strange situation they had both found themselves in.

Instead he watched him quietly, and found himself admiring the way Billy became lost with what he was doing when he decided to really put his mind into behind his work. It was a side of him that Steve had never seen before, and against his better judgement, he found the way Billy furrowed his brow in a way that it wrinkled his forehead kind of... endearing. When he wasn't full of adrenaline and anger, Billy almost came across as personable.

Almost.

"Now who's staring at who?" Steve heard Billy drawl, and he had to blink a few times to draw himself out of his semi-trance.

"Please, don't flatter yourself; I wasn't staring at you," he replied defensively, watching as Billy turned his hand from side to side to make sure he'd gotten all the gunk out of the puncture wounds only he could see. "I was clearly mesmerized by all this shit coming out of my hand."

Billy scoffed, but let the issue drop. Instead of offering up a retort, he said, "You probably need stitches."

This time Steve did yank his hand away from him, pulling it away so quickly it thumped into his chest with a dull thud.

"What the hell Harrington-"

"I am not about to let you put stitches into the imaginary holes in my hand!" He didn't mean to sound so whiny about it, but he couldn't help the way his voice lilted in distress.

"I didn't say I was going to," Billy snapped, his calm demeanor turning into irritation. He cast away the soiled materials he'd been working with in the small bathroom trash can and pushed past Steve into the hallway. "I only said that you probably needed them."

"Yeah, well, what the hell do you know," Steve said, following after him.

Steve continued to hold his hand against his chest as Billy moved into his bedroom. He stepped into the doorway and watched as he made his way to the small, self-constructed vanity and began to rifle through a box of his belongings. Unsure of what it was Billy was looking for, Steve took the time to gaze around his room, eyeing up whatever he could and mentally storing away things he could use to discredit him in future arguments.

"Here," Billy said after a moment, pulling out what looked like a small, self-made first aid kit out of a hidden box. "Gimme your hand again."

"What for?" Steve asked, eyeing the box warily.

"To fucking amputate it, idiot; just give it here." Billy held out his hand expectantly, and rather reluctantly, Steve once again trusted him with the care of his hand.

In the small, inconspicuous first aid kit was an assortment of bandages, gauze, and adhesive tape. Steve didn't ask why he had it; only watched quietly as Billy took out a box of butterfly bandages and began applying them to where the holes in the back of his hand must have been. It looked odd to Steve to see his perfectly fine skin get bunched up underneath the thin, white bandages, but if this was what it took to get rid of the mark (and he was sure, suddenly that it was a marking of sorts), then he'd allow it.

"God, that's gross," Billy mumbled, scrunching his face up before wrapping Steve's hand in the medical tape until the bandages were covered and hidden.

"Gee, thanks," Steve said, examining Billy's handiwork when he was done. He hated to admit it, but he'd done a pretty good job dressing his hand for him.

They stood in the door-frame of Billy's bedroom for a long moment afterwards, neither one of them speaking. The weight of their discovery weighed heavily on each of their minds as they individually wondered about what they ought to do with the information going forward.

"So, I guess I'll tell Hopper-"

"We need to talk about-"

Steve laughed when they spoke at the same time, but Billy only scowled.

"Get the hell out of my room," he said crossly, pushing Steve out of the doorway and into the hall. "I need to show you the rest of that fucking movie."

Steve didn't like the movie. He'd never been a fan of the horror genre- couldn't understand why anyone would be, really-, but the werewolf movie Billy was forcing him to sit through was so violent it was beginning to make his stomach turn.

Worse than the violence, though, was that he had to watch a large portion of the film alone. Not that he was scared to watch it alone, but he definitely would've preferred not to have to watch it by himself in a stranger home. In order to keep up appearances, Billy had left him to re-dress his arm once he'd rewound the movie to a suitable starting point. Steve understood that he couldn't just walk around town with his arm the way it was, but even still, he didn't appreciate having to sit through the horrific movie alone at his insistence.

"Why the hell did you make me watch that," Steve complained once the movie had ended.

Billy had come in around the halfway mark, his arm freshly bandaged and back in its sling. He'd caught Steve cowering on the couch, watching the gorey parts behind the selective censorship of his fingers, and of course he'd laughed at him. He'd taken a seat on his workout bench, leaning against the dumbbell supports and laughed at him for a good five minutes, but at least that instant of humiliation had taken the edge off of the worst of it. Steve had been able to watch the rest of the movie without issue, but he knew he was never going to be able to live that down.

Now that the movie was over, Billy didn't look quite as amused anymore. He was watching the end credits slowly scroll up the screen with a somber, dissociated look. Unsure if he'd heard him or not, Steve was about to repeat himself when Billy finally spoke.

"To make sure you understood what's coming." Confused, Steve could only look at him uncomprehendingly. With a groan, Billy sat up from his hunched over position and turned his eyes away from the screen. "I guess you didn't get to being the 'King' of the hick capital of the world by being smart. Did you pay attention to the movie at all?

"It was a werewolf, Harrington; even you can't deny that now, and you saw what happened to that guy who got bit by one, or did you miss that while you were watching the movie through your fingers?"

"Shut the fuck up," Steve muttered in embarrassment. "It was one part; I watched every other second of the damn movie!"

"Then work it out for me, pretty boy; exercise that tiny little brain of yours for once and show me you're better than all the rest of these inbred Hawkins idiots."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but saw that Billy wasn't actually trying to initiate an argument. Instead, he was trying to reason with him. He hadn't forced him to watch the movie for his own entertainment, but was instead trying to show him something. There was something obvious Steve was failing to see here, and Billy was trying to open his eyes to it.

Mentally, he recounted everything he could that related to their situation. The bonfire, the attack, the recovery, his conversations earlier that day, the bite on his hand-

The bite.

"It- it didn't bite me," Steve finally said, his eyes going wide in realization as he recalled the conversation they'd shared not two hours ago. Billy's face lit up as Steve's succumbed to the horror the movie had exposed him to. "It didn't bite me, it bit you, so then, you- that makes you-"

Billy grinned at him sardonically, revealing his teeth.

"Guess I really am a monster now."

[chokememrstark]

The Soulmate Sam Never Asked For // Part 2

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2661 (Chapter 2 / 12)

Fic Summary: It's impossible to deny anymore that Lucifer is his soulmate. Sam tries to handle the situation the rational way, without allowing his emotions to control him, but Lucifer isn't helping at all with the way he reacts and Sam doesn't know if he should laugh or scream about the impossible situation he found himself in.

college!AU, human!AU, soulmates!AU, dysfunctional families, abusive parents, dramatic romance, or romantic drama, your choice, big brother!Lucifer, soulmates hating each other, referenced alcoholism, death and abuse, some violence, and lots of feels, fluff and cuteness, some drama but not too much, lots of bickering, and two damn stubborn soulmates (!!)

Note: My lovely beta reader @brieflymaximumprincess called this a rom-com and even though I don’t believe it is, in my eyes, it does have certain elements of it. This is not the angst you know from me, not at all.

Yes, there is some drama, but there is also a lot of sweet and cute moments, much more than the dramatic ones. I guess you could say I accidentally wrote cute fluff? Because it was not intended, but here we are.

This fic is already completed and will be posted by the regular schedule from now on: Thuesday, Thursday and Saturday! So, enjoy ♥

Tagging: @shebahda   @sassysupernaturalsweetheart    @spnyoucantkeepmedown  @brieflymaximumprincess @multifandomhcsforinsanity @etysky @justasmalltownsuperwholock @humongouscandycoffee @blakechaos08 @daddycasstiel @diamondsdontshine

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

 Sam tried really hard to not look at the blond guy or give him any form of attention over the next few days, but it felt like torture every single time they were in the same room together. The more he ignored him, the more his body seemed to protest and fight against his decision. After a few days of this, Sam didn’t know if he could take it anymore. Not even hanging out and talking to the few friends he had on campus provided any form of distraction - this pestering turmoil inside of him flared up regularly, even when the blond was far away. It only got worse and Sam didn’t know what to do anymore.

 During the next weekend, Sam laid awake at night and wondered how this horrible guy could be his soulmate and why he had to be punished like that. Hell, from what he had seen so far he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d turn on the news one day and see him presented as a serial killer or something like that! This guy was a creep, how could this be possible? And still, all signs were there and it got more obvious every day. At this rate he would probably explode by Wednesday next week and he began to hope for it in a way.

 “You need to talk to him,” Dean said when Sam called him Sunday night, completely drained, exhausted and helpless. “It won’t get better like this, trust me.”

 “I can’t talk to him!” Sam protested, banging his head against the wall behind him. “He’ll probably rip me to shreds! You didn’t see him, Dean…”

 “You’re sure it’s him, right?”

 “Sadly yes…”

 “If you’re right you have to talk to him. The more you try to stay away from him, the worse it’ll get.”

 Sam sighed, he had feared this would be Dean’s answer. Why did this have to happen to him? He had already wasted two weeks of college, if this kept going he wouldn’t make it much longer.

 “I’ve never seen someone with so much disgust on his face, Dean,” Sam mumbled after a while, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like he’s thinking about murdering everyone around him all the time, he’s creeping me the fuck out!”

 “Does he look decent at least?” Dean asked curious and Sam groaned.

 “Who cares how good he looks? Dean, he’ll probably kill me if I come closer than five feet - a decent face is the last thing I’m interested in!”

 “Calm down, I’m just asking,” Dean said quickly. “I doubt he’ll kill you on sight, the worst thing that might happen is that he tells you to fuck off, right?”

 “Maybe he doesn’t care for witnesses...”

 “You’re being ridiculous, Sam,” Dean chuckled. “If he really is who you think he is don’t you think he’s going through the same thing as you?”

 Sam hadn’t thought about that if he was honest. Maybe Dean was right. He had read a lot about soulmates in school and it was always a mutual thing, at least according to studies.

 “He hides it pretty well then, as you said,” Sam eventually scoffed.

 “Maybe he’s just not the most emotional one.”

 “Are you calling me emotional?” Sam snarled, making his brother laugh again.

 “I’m calling you a coward, that’s what I’m doing!” Dean retorted. “Look, just go talk to him. The worst that can happen is that he shoves you away and then you’ll find a way to deal with it. And no, you won’t start drinking like dad, trust me. That’s a whole different story.”

 Sam swallowed hard. He didn’t know Dean was aware of his fear of becoming like their dad. Not that he ever hid it, but he didn’t know it was that obvious. Most of his hate for the whole soulmate thing came from his parents, sure, but he never talked about it openly.

 “If that happens and I wanna get away; can you pick me up?”

 “Sammy, of course!” Dean answered without hesitating. “If he does he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you anyway. Just jump over your shadow, alright?”

 “Yeah, I’ll try…”

 Sam wasn’t sure if he’d find the courage to do that, but he didn’t want Dean to think he actually was a coward either. One thing was clear, however; he couldn’t keep going like this. He’d never get anything done that way.

 They talked briefly for a few minutes before Dean had to hang up and Sam was relieved about the silence that followed. As glad as he was about Dean’s support and help, he knew this was something he had to tackle all by himself and it scared him. They taught kids about soulmates in school, but never mentioned the nasty parts. It was always sunshine and rainbows, nothing else.

 Sam tried hard to sleep that night, but barely got more than three hours after rolling around restlessly in his bed. He looked more like a zombie than an actual human when he dragged himself to the coffee machine to fill a big cup with espresso and some cream to help with the bitter taste. He was early to class again, but this time he sat down where the blond guy usually sat, hoping it would not cause him to go the other direction. He was too tired to really care, but maybe that would be helpful.

 The blond was not late today, but barely made it on time and plopped down with a disapproving grunt next to Sam when he saw his seat taken. The look he shot Sam was more than just a little annoyed and made the other’s guts twist when he caught it.

 “If you don’t plan to cut my throat you might wanna pay attention to the topic,” Sam said after a few minutes of being glared at like that, completely aware that he probably signed his own death certificate with that. He felt too awful to care, to be honest. Between his pulse skyrocketing and his hands feeling like they were frying over a bonfire, he just couldn’t find the strength to keep his mouth shut.

 “You’re pretty cocky for someone who just stole my seat,” the blond huffed, squinting his eyes.

 “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but you make me feel pretty damn shitty ever since you walked into this room the first time and it’s killing me. So just let me sit here and shut up, will you?” Sam had no idea where his sudden attitude came from, but the reaction he got surprised him even more. The blond actually smirked at him.

 “I expected you to last longer, honestly.”

 Sam thought he’d suffer from a stroke right there and then. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

 “Excuse me?”

 The blond laughed quietly and shifted in his seat to look at Sam directly before answering.

 “I wondered when you’d come over, but I thought you’d last a bit longer than two weeks.”

 “You really      are    an asshole, wow.” Sam huffed and took a huge sip from his espresso.

 “I answer to Lucifer too, but if you want to call me asshole, go ahead.”

 Sam nearly choked on his next sip, staring at the blond with wide eyes for a moment.

 “Hell no,” Sam eventually huffed and turned away from the other. “Fuck me sideways, just      no    !”

 “That’s what he said.” Lucifer grinned.

 Sam realized one thing in this very moment: there were people that asked to be hated by simply existing and then there was Lucifer, who managed to quadruple this feeling easily. This could only be a very cruel joke that he didn’t get the punchline of yet, there was no other way.

 “Do me a favor and don’t talk,” Sam eventually scoffed and did his best to ignore the blond and that he still looked at him. “You’re making everything worse when you talk.”

 Luckily Lucifer, if that was even his real name, didn’t open his mouth anymore, but it barely helped Sam to get through the lecture. When the professor finally dismissed them, Sam sighed in relief, only to be reminded with a cough that he wasn’t free yet.

 “I guess you know what that means, right?” Lucifer said with a smug grin on his face that gave Sam goosebumps when he turned towards him.

 “Yeah, I probably fucked up horribly in my past life and this is  my punishment for it,” Sam shot back ice cold and stood up. “Whatever you think it means, it’s not gonna happen.”

 Sam made it out of the classroom and almost to the next before he heard heavy steps behind him and sighed. Now the guy was a stalker too, seriously? He spun around, angry and ready to fight.

 “What?” Sam snarled, trying to ignore the confusion that crept up in him once more.

 “You forgot your backpack,” Lucifer said and held up the forgotten item. “I guess you need it, don’t you?”

 “Yeah, thanks.” Sam took his belongings with a suspicious glare, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it as far as he could see.

 “Til later, I guess,” Lucifer waved and as he started walking away, Sam got overwhelmed by his cursed instincts.

 “Wait!”

 The blond stopped, turned back and gave Sam a more than surprised look.

 “Thank you, really,” Sam said, slightly ashamed. “I’d die without this thing.”

 “I figured,” Lucifer nodded and shouldered his own backpack. “See you around, Sam.”

 Now that Lucifer actually walked away, Sam felt even more weird than before. Lucifer didn’t come across like someone who would be nice to just for the sake of it, so why did he bother giving him back his things? He didn’t seem to care at all before; it made little sense. Unless he was trying to get on his good side, which was very unlikely.

 Sam didn’t feel good about this situation at all. He didn’t know Lucifer or even liked him, so why did his body, or soul or whatever, insist that he’d play any part in his life? And still, he had been able to concentrate a little better during the last lecture. Maybe it was enough just to sit next to him, if this was the price he had to pay for good grades he would do it. Anything else, a relationship or even a friendship with this guy, was nothing he desired or wanted, ever.

 Dean would probably rip him a new one if he saw him being so stubborn, but dammit, he wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for this stubbornness, so he should be used to it by now! No one had the right to control his life, not his father and surely not some random guy he never met before that fate or whatever had chosen to be his soulmate.

 For the rest of the day Sam felt a little better than the week before, even if it was still difficult to keep up his focus. He was even able to sleep at night and when he walked into the next course he had with Lucifer he saw a raised hand in the back while looking for him. Surprised, but relieved that his search was shortened this way, Sam walked over and put the two coffees he had brought with him down on the tables.

 “Oh, you’re bringing me gifts already?” Lucifer grinned and looked up at Sam. “How thoughtful of you.”

 “Don’t flatter yourself,” Sam huffed and sat down. “I just want this to go as quiet as possible and if your mouth is occupied with coffee you might talk less.”

 Lucifer laughed at this, but Sam turned his attention to his notes and his own coffee. He would not put any effort into this, the coffee had been a spontaneous impulse he would not give into again, so much was clear. Lucifer was merely a tool to improve his concentration and if the blond wanted to be annoying, Sam would not hesitate to just leave again and live with the consequences. He had no desire to end up dead in this guy’s basement one day, no thank you. Soulmate or not, he still came across like a psycho and Sam would keep his distance from him as much as possible - if not physically, then at least emotionally.

 The week went by like this and Sam found that only one class a day with Lucifer was enough to get him through the others. They didn’t talk much, apart from the kind of forced ‘hey’ and ‘bye’ they shared less than ten words over the rest of the week, but Sam was fine with that. Lucifer didn’t bother him much and left him alone, so it might work out like that eventually. At the end of the week Sam’s inner turmoil was almost gone completely and he couldn’t have been more relieved about that.

 Dean laughed when Sam told him about the new arrangement he had with his supposed soulmate and called them the no-homo-bros, but Sam didn’t give into his mocking or let it get to him. Dean’s amusement was a fair price for not having to drop out of college.

 “Careful, Sam,” Dean said with fake seriousness at one point. “You don’t want to fall for the Devil’s irresistible charm, do you?”

 “Oh, shut up, Dee,” Sam hissed through gritted teeth, using a nickname he knew Dean hated with a passion. “I’ll learn to fly before I fall for this guy.”

 “I’ll get you a pair of wings then.”

 “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Sam asked surprised.

 “Of course,” Dean laughed. “It’s a law of nature, Sam. It always ends the same way, soulmates aren’t made to push each other away. Sooner or later things will go the natural direction.”

 “Well, I’ll prove nature wrong then,” Sam huffed. “I don’t like this guy and I’m not gonna change my mind.”

 “I’ll ask you again when you come home next time, but I’m glad things got better at least.”

 “Me too, trust me.”

 There was no way in hell Sam would change his mind about Lucifer. This guy was rude, annoying, creepy and probably dangerous too - at least it felt like he was and that was enough to make him wary. And why should he want to get involved with this guy anymore than necessary anyways? He didn’t even want to know what was going through Lucifer’s head on a regular basis, given the weird look in his eyes, it surely wasn’t something nice. No, he would stick to his decision, no matter what.

 Sam had to admit that it was slightly awkward to pull through with his plan to be physically in Lucifer’s presence, but far away emotionally. Not that the blond ever acted up or treated him badly, he couldn’t describe where this feeling came from. It wasn’t different from sitting next to anyone else he didn’t talk to in other lectures, just that it      was    different and he had no idea how to put it into words. Ultimately, Sam knew it boiled down to the soulmate thing, but he was extremely focused on controlling himself in every way possible to not let that part take over him. Whether it was awkward or not, in the end it worked and that was all that mattered to him.

 Lucifer himself was as cold and distant as always for the most part. Occasionally he would make a sarcastic remark or shoot the other an estimating glare, but Sam never gave him the satisfaction of letting it get to him. It wasn’t even to get his attention, Sam noticed that when he reacted the first few times. Lucifer was simply used to this behavior and Sam watched him acting the same around other people from afar. How this guy was supposed to make friends like that was beyond him, but as they said: that was none of his business.

[lukeysgirl]

Relentless | Calum Hood Series Pt.3

                                               Part T H R E E

Request: Being the cousin of Ashton Irwin was exciting, especially when invited to their tour to hang out with his best friends. You found yourself becoming fond of Calum Hood, who finds you annoying from your constant appearance. But what would happen if you stopped giving him that attention?

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: i actually really like this part so i hope you guys do, too!! please try and get this to 100 notes (the regular) and im so happy a lot of you are enjoying it. i love your responses abt it so much, it makes me smile lots :] ty bubbas ‘n enjoy !!

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. [DONE]

                                                   I M A G I N E 

 Flight to Helsinki, Finland, 3 Hours In

“Switch with me,” Luke spewed out as you put your magazine down and looked up at him. He was holding tightly on your seat while the plane was entering light turbulence. “Hurry!”

“Way wah?” Michael exclaimed, his mouth full of the Cheetos you bought him at the airport. “Aren you sitting wih Calum though?” 

“My point exactly,” Luke nodded, darting his blue eyes back on you as he struggled to stay on his feet. “Like actually hurry because I don’t want to fall and die because you’re hesitant.” 

“But this is such a bad time–” you tried to excuse yourself but Luke wouldn’t let you. 

“He’s trying to sleep on my shoulder but I am not trying to get Ashton salty at me for breaking Cashton.” Luke blurts, having you and Michael giggle. You quickly grabbed all your things and shoved it in your bag. Unbuckling yourself, Luke gets out of your way so you can stand and get out of the seat. 

“I’m gonna miss you, Y/N!” Michael playfully whimpered, having you giggle as you held onto the seats to move up on the private plane. It held you, the boys, and everybody who worked in the band and management. Most of them were either prepping for the next performance or asleep. You walked cautiously to find a very groggy Calum Hood sat in his seat with pure discomfort. 

“Calum?” You asked quietly, having him turn and look up at you. Distaste became ornate on his face as he rolled his almond eyes. “I’m sorry to bother but Luke asked to switch with me.”

“What the hell? Why?” Calum sounded annoyed, having you feel a pit dent your stomach. 

“He um,” you began, not wanting to throw Luke off the bus over not wanting to sit next to Calum. “He said he had to talk to Michael about something. It sounded really serious.” 

“Fucking Muke, they’re always like this,” Calum responded with a frown. “Are there no other seats available?”

“I didn’t see any on my way over,” you mumbled, having Calum sigh. He placed his head in his hand of pure defeat. He was easily irritated and you really didn’t like being in this situation. Before you can utter another plea, the turbulence increased its strength and you almost fell on top of Calum. 

“Miss, please take your seat,” a flight attendant rushed over, urging you as she pointed to the seat next to Calum. He let out a sigh as you carefully moved passed him in order to get through. But the side of your thigh rubbed gently against his knees, having him shift in discomfort as you took your seat. 

“M’sorry,” you muttered, placing your bag on your lap to put on your buckle. Calum glanced at you before leaning his head opposite of you. His neck was bent and extended, seeing as he was straining it way too much. He slowly closed his eyes and took a stab at sleeping. “Um, Calum..”

“What?” He asked angrily. 

“You’re gonna get some really bad neck pain if you sleep like that,” you inform, having him put his neck straight again to eye you intensely. 

“Oh? And what do you suggest, Y/N?” 

“W-well, I mean,” you began, looking away from Calum to watch your twiddling thumbs. “You can always lean on my shoulder if you’d like.”

“No.” Calum quickly dismissed the idea, but you were not taking his stubbornness right now. 

“Calum, don’t be stupid.”

“And now you’re calling me stupid? Gee wiz, Y/N, you sure are sweet,” Calum spat sarcastically.

“Yeah, I am calling you stupid,” you say with more aggression. “You have another option that would serve you much better but your crazy hatred for me makes you too stubborn to take the offer.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Calum disagreed. You felt a little happy hearing this, but you still had an argument to win. 

“Then shush and put your stupid head on my shoulder,” you finish, receiving a hesitant sigh from Calum before he begins to adjust. He moves his body in order to be a little slanted so he could lean his head better. You felt sparks once Calum’s head made contact with your sweater-protected shoulder. 

“Happy?” Calum mumbled as he shifted a bit to get a more comfortable spot. 

“Very,” you say. “Hey, would you like me to ask for a pillow? I’m pretty sure you’d be more comfortable with one. Call the flight attendant over so we can–” Calum quickly put an end to your ramble as his hand found your face and squished it so your lips were pursed with your cheeks a little closer than before. 

“You’re loud,” Calum croaked. “I’m trying to sleep.” You quickly went as silent as a mouse as Calum slowly fell into a nice rest. 

Helsinki, 18:00 P.M.

“This way, please.” One of the guards urged as you all proceeded down the boarding dock into the airport. You watched as Calum walked in front of you, trotting from his grogginess. You couldn’t help but blush now over what had happened on the flight. 

You still felt his head on your shoulder, his black hair tickling at the crook of your neck. You can still hear his light snoring when he was once asleep, probably dreaming about wonderful things. He even snaked his arm around your waist at some point, making your heart stop instantly. He was sleeping soundly on you for the entire trip and you didn’t hate it. 

Though, because of Calum’s sleep, you yourself couldn’t get a wink of sleep. 

“Oi!” You turned slightly to see Luke come to your side. He went a little close to whisper in your ear so Calum couldn’t hear. “How did it go?”

“He… he slept on my shoulder,” you piped happily, having Luke widen his blue eyes before you could give him more details. “We were arguing about it at first, but then he gave it and put his head on my shoulder and slept the entire flight.”

“That explains the dried up drool on your sweater then,” Luke said, pointing at the transparent, dried saliva on your clothing. You grab your sweater and pull it it away to see the splotch of Calum’s saliva on it. Luke chuckled a bit as you blushed in embarrassment. 

“I didn’t even notice!” You squeaked, getting the attention of the rest of the boys as you all walked into a Subway for food. Calum looked at you with an intense face, making your heart race a little as you let your sweater go. 

“Good job slobbering her, mate,” Ashton said with a chuckle, having the other boys snort while Calum held you in a gaze. Slowly, his chubby cheeks became very pink as his almond eyes lightened up a bit. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t realize…” Calum muttered, seeing as he put his head down and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s alright, seriously,” you urged, shrugging it off as you watched Calum get flustered. It was cute to see him embarrassed. It was another side of him that you don’t see everyday, and you loved it. 

“Here, Y/N, lemme help you.” Michael appeared out of thin air with a wet napkin and began to dab your sweater. You felt a little nervous from the closeness, but watched as Michael removed the saliva from you. His focus was so intense that you began to blush a bit. 

“Let me do it, Mike.” Calum quickly joined beside Michael, as he stood up straight and looked at Calum. 

“You sure? ‘Cause I’ve got it already–”

“Just pass it.” Reluctantly, Michael handed the napkin to Calum. As the bleach-haired boy fled to the cashier, Calum was bent down and looking at the saliva stain he left. 

“C-Calum, you don’t have to–” you stuttered, but Calum quickly brought up his hand and squished your face like he did on the plane. 

“Just let me do it,” Calum mumbled, letting go of your face as he began removing the rest of the dried up saliva. With him being so close, you couldn’t help but flush. You were able to smell the shampoo in his air and the cologne he was wearing. You smelled his breath, the combination of dark chocolate and bitter mint from the York peppermint patty he got himself. “I really am sorry, this is totally unlike me…”

“D-don’t worry, you were always uncool anyways.” Calum looked up and glared at you, having you giggle before you looked away. “I’m kidding. This is cool of you to do, though, so thanks…” 

Calum’s eyes quickly darted away from you and back on the dried saliva. With a few more dabs, he finds himself satisfied of his work and quickly stands up straight again. You watch as he folds the napkin and tossed it at the trashcan, getting it in perfectly. He then stared at you, having you stare back. Everything around you was silenced as you noticed Calum’s cheeks tint themselves a hue of pink. 

“That looks better, I think,” Calum spoke softly, his eyes more sincere and his tone less cold. It was completely different 3 days ago when you were in London. His stare felt more warm and accepting of you. His tolerance was getting better with you and he admitted that he doesn’t hate you. 

Does that mean he just barely ‘tolerates’ me? You think, feeling a little down that that might be the case. Before you could think more of it, you suddenly heard a female scream Calum’s name. 

“It’s Calum Hood!” A girl screamed, having a crowd of them spawn and run into the Subway’s with an objective. 

“Fuck me, I wanted to eat my 5 Dollar Foot Long,” Michael commented, holding his sandwich with disappointment on his face. Guards quickly begin leading you out of the eatery. You were feeling several pushes and small grabs as the guards quickly guided you all outside of the airport. 

But as you guys were dashing through the airport in seek of the exit, you felt yourself getting more distant from the guards. The girls were closing in and running a bit faster. One actually grabbed your sweater and pulled you back a bit, having you fall and collide your butt with the ground. Pain jolted in your bottom as you had trouble getting up. 

“Y/N!” You heard a shout, looking up to see Calum run over to you and grab your arms. He pulls you back on your feet and grabs your hand. Quickly, he begins to run, having you run with him as you felt his hand hold yours tighter. “C’mon, we need to get to the car, now.”

“I’m going!” You yell, having the both of you outrun the fans as you made it outside. Calum quickly urges you into the Jeep with the other boys, having him stand at the car door while looking at the fans. 

“Calum! Calum!” Girls chanted his name as they snapped several photos on their phones. 

“I love you all, but we seriously have to go!” Calum says, entering the car as the driver finally departed and began driving away from the airport. Ashton quickly patted your head as you were sat next to him. 

“Are you alright?” Ashton asked softly, worry drowning his hazel eyes as you nodded. 

“Yeah, Calum went back for me when I fell,” you said, looking over at Calum. He was looking out the car window, already distracted by the scenery as the car quickly drove passed several cars. “Don’t think I would have made it quicker without him.”

“You sound like you just outran several zombies for your life, Y/N!” Luke says, chuckling a bit as you joined him. “Although our fans are really lovely and supportive, they do get a little touchy-feely.”

“Especially when a girl is touring with us,” Michael chips in, having Luke nudge him. “It’s true, they didn’t expect Ashton’s cousin to join us.”

“True, actually…” as the other three boys continued the conversation, you looked over at Calum. He looked stuck in through, distracted by the evening sun and the land we were passing. He looked at peace, as if the breeze was doing him some good. You smiled at the distracted Maori boy, feeling a bit honored to see him like this. 

“Hey, Y/N, are you hungry?” Ashton piped, having you turn quickly to see your cousin smiling brightly at you. 

“Yeah, actually, I am,” you comment, holding onto your stomach as it growled. “No offense, but the airplane food didn’t do me good.”

“I would have gotten us something but Michael literally ordered every single condiment and cold cut you can fucking get at Subways,” Ashton began, glaring at Michael a bit. Who, by the way, was happily eating his sub with much delight. 

“I’m sorry!” Michael said, his sentence completely muffled by his mouth stuffed with his sandwich. Luke rolled his eyes as Ashton dropped his head in his hands of pure defeat. You giggled a bit as felt Calum sit up next to you. Turning your head, you watch as Calum looks down at his hands. 

“How about we go find a McDonalds or something?” Calum suggested, having everyone agree as Ashton told the driver to pullover at the nearest fast food restaurant there was. 

“Alright, I’ll go order,” Ashton took initiative as he took everybody’s orders and went off to the cashier. You guys were sat at a booth, with Luke next to you and Calum and Michael across from you. 

“Y/N, I can’t wait for you to meet my girlfriend in like, two weeks,” Luke began, having you watch him as he smiled happily over the thought of his girlfriend. “We’ll meet her and the other bands that we’ll hook up with and go on tour with.”

“Oh really?” You said with interest. “Who’re the other bands?” 

“One OK Rock and Hey Violet,” Luke said proudly, having you smile as you thought about their names. “One OK Rock, we picked up from Japan. They’re really cool dudes, and extremely talented.” 

“More punkrock than you boys, I assume?” You joked, having Michael slam his hands on the table as he looked at you with a smirk. 

“Nobody is more punkrock than us, Y/N!” Michael declared, rolling your eyes as Luke spoke more. 

“And Hey Violet are cool people, too,” Luke said with a smile. “Mostly composed of girls, so you’ll fit in with them real quick. They’re really sweet and awesome, honestly.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, then,” you say, genuinely excited to meet more musicians just as talented as your childhood friends. 

“Yeah, Calum is real fond of them!” Michael began as he nudged Calum. “Ain’t that right, Cal?” 

“Shut up,” Calum hissed, looking away from him as he distracted himself with the window. He watched as cars pulled in and departed from the lot of McDonalds. You blinked, seeming confused by the entire situation before Luke grabbed you back in. 

“Anyways, what were you doing before you came and joined us?” Luke asked you, having you sit back a bit as you twiddled your thumbs.

“Nothing as exciting as you guys, really,” you admit sheepishly, but it was true.”I was worked at a super market while attending uni so…”

“Ah yes, Ashton told me that this was your study abroad agreement,” Luke said, having you confirm with a nod. You noticed, though, that Calum slightly glanced into the conversation. Though his eyes didn’t leave the outside, his head was facing a little towards the rest of you. “I’m glad you’re able to be here with us then!” 

“Seriously, Y/N, you’re so rad,” Michael comments. “I think what we were missing was a little bit of our living past to join us in our future.” You smiled, feeling honored from that compliment. Suddenly, Ashton came with a huge tray of food. 

“Food is served!” Ashton chanted as he put down the food and allowed everybody to dig in. 

Helsinki, 19:00 P.M.

Everyone fell asleep in the car except you and Calum. 

It was a fairly long drive to the hotel that the guys were booked in. It was the hotel closest to the stadium they were performing at, but unfortunately, there was no airport nearby it. Which, they didn’t mind the long drive, but they were all tired from the flight and the meal they just ate. 

As the car moved, you found yourself getting groggy as well. Several yawns kept escaping your mouth as you watched over the other boys sleeping. Muke was in the front, moving their chairs together so they could lean on one another. To your left, Ashton was uncomfortably leaning against the window, having his hair bounce with every bump the car ran over. 

For Calum, he was wide awake and eyeing the car lights you guys kept passing. But you were too tired to really focus on Calum right now. At the moment, you were tempted as hell to lean on Ashton, but he seemed so at peace that you didn’t want to wake him. Your eyelids kept falling down but rising every time you acknowledged your sleepiness. 

You suddenly felt a large hand gently hold your right cheek as it pulled you down to a shoulder. 

Huh? Your head was now leaning against Calum’s shoulder as he still held you. Your heart raced faster as you felt his touch linger on your skin. Blood rushed to your cheeks from this random interaction. 

“C-calum–” 

“Just shut up and sleep,” Calum responded, his voice sounding bored as his eyes were still watching the outside of the car. His hand still didn’t remove itself as you leaned against Calum. 

“No, it’s okay, I can sit up and–” 

“You’re stupid.” Calum says, having the world stop in your mind. “’You have another option that would serve you much better.’ So just sleep already.” You blushed, feeling like a cloud as Calum repeated your words. But you didn’t want to be a hypocrite, so you gave in and shut your eyes as Calum held you close. 

hope yall liked it! ask or tell me whatever you want riiiiight here

[macchiahoe]

uhhhh

So I guess before I start on my rant I’m just gonna give y’all some reading questions to think about (and seriously let me know how you feel because idk how to interpret this situation) and those are  1) am i being emotionally manipulative in this context?? 2)....any other concerns you have or want to point out.  Ok. So with those questions in mind, I’m going to explain my day today. For any of you guys reading, I would assume that you’ve probably read my previous personal posts, but if you have not, I’ll give a brief background. Broke up with my ex in January. She’s already moved on in less than a month. For this topic specifically, we both are involved in GSA (since she’s a lesbian, and im a queer trans man).  I’ve been wanting to get involved in GSA again, since I wasn’t really interested when I was dating my ex, and I also need something to occupy my time now, and I need socialization because talking to people online and through text can only do so much. However, my ex, also wants to get involved in GSA again as well. Which is absolutely fine!! Her partner is also involved in GSA, so that gives her a motive to go as much as she can.  However, I feel unbearably anxious when I see my ex and her partner, so I don’t really want to go to GSA if I know that I’ll see them there. And I don’t want to make them feel as if they can’t go there but heres where “the twist” comes in  I’ve talked to my ex before about creating a compromise. I mentioned to her that I want to also be involved in this club, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable with her there. I brought up that in general, I think it would be in our best interests if we could both go to the club and not have to see each other, which is why I proposed the idea of us alternating which weeks we go. It sucks, because both of us want to go as much as we can, but I just want to feel safe whenever I go there and not feel as if I’m going to throw up just because I see my ex. Alternatively, my ex and her partner have a lot of negative feelings about me, and they should be able to enjoy their time there, and I’ve tried to express this to my ex.  This comes into the conversation that I’ve had today with my ex. I really wanted to go to the meeting last night, because it was discourse night and I love hearing that good ol tea. I didn’t go however, because I told my ex that I wouldn’t, and I respected the compromise that I thought we had agreed upon. So I went to the gym instead, and did something else productive with my time. Early today I sent her a message hoping that she had a good time, and if it was alright if I went to the next meeting.  She said that yes, it was ok if I went, and then didn’t respond for a while. I mentioned that perhaps her and her partner can do something exciting since it’s valentines day, and since i thought we had agreed on the compromise, that would mean that they werent going. However, she said that their plans were for the day were to go to that meeting. I was taken aback, because I thought we had already established our compromise and that would mean that I could not feel anxious about going next week.  Thiissss is where things went south fast. I brought up the fact that we had made a compromise and my ex said that we had only thought about it. Perhaps we had. But I brought up the fact that we couldn’t even manage to walk past each other or have a kind textual conversation, so what would happen if we were in the same physical space as each other? I asked her if we could just keep the compromise we talked about because I want to be a part of this club and not feel anxious (anymore than I have to bc social anxiety) while im there. And because of this, she felt like I was trying to disconnect her from her friends already in that room and the club in general.  She mentioned how we wouldn’t even have to talk to each other, which I would do if she was there anyways, but she kept dismissing the main fact that I dont want her there because I feel extremely anxious and we’re both not ready to see each other anymore than we can help it....so why not help it??? I mentioned that I felt like she kept on dismissing my feelings about the problem. I said that perhaps I was being lowkey manipulative and she said, “if you know you are then why don’t you stop doing it?” and I wasn’t intentionally trying to be rude by trying to prioritize my feelings in this relationship for once but i guess i had! I mentioned that one of the ways for me to move on was to actually get involved in other things such as clubs, and it would mean a lot to me if i could go to this club, even if every other week. I raised the question if she would actually want to see me at this club, since she was deadset on going whenever she wanted. She said that she would be fine with it, since she has emotional support, and then asked for my feelings. I gave my feelings since she asked for them, and said that I would much rather not see her, because I don’t have any emotional support and I don’t have anyone there to rely on if things go south for me, whereas she can turn to her partner, or her close friends there.  She didn’t respond to those remarks for a long time. I guess making her realize that she has way more support than me made her feel like i was being manipulative when i was really just asking her to try to consider how i felt? because my ex has been my main source of support for two years and i really really really really dont want to talk to her more than i have to but i can’t turn to other people unless i actually can make friends, and i can only personally do that in an environment that im comfortable, this my given case, one that happens to be ex free.  I told her that I apologize for being defensive, coming across as nonempathetic, and trying to isolate her from this space. I acknowledged her feelings of anger, tiredness, bitterness, her lack of sympathy, and a bunch of other things I could tell she was feeling. I simply asked if she could acknowledge my feelings as well, because despite trying to explain my stance repeatedly, she continually turned me down, and made rude remarks about me.  My ex said that she was trying to be sympathetic, but she doesn’t know how to make the overall situation better. I again, brought up the idea of the compromise that we had discussed so. many. times. before. I asked if she had another potential solution, since she had been so distasteful towards it.  She said that she didn’t know how we could both be involved in the same club, if we couldn’t be there at the same time and I just...brought up the compromise because while we will both be involved less often, which sucks for both of us, because i know we would all prefer to go weekly, it allows for us not to have to worry about each other in the space and to just be comfortable for that week. I tried giving advice that they could do alternative events on their off nights, such as spending their time together doing something else (like a date night or something), or spend time with their other friends to try to distract them from the fact that they’re missing out on something, by filling their time with something else.  My ex said that she already decided that she and her partner wouldnt go next week, so she was annoyed that I kept pressing the issue. I apologized and mentioned that I was sincerely just trying to give some advice. I feel like the way I worded a lot of my phrases was lowkey manipulative, but my ex didn’t take a lot of what i was saying into account as well so...?? Was I being irrational for trying to create some kind of compromise between us? I mean....it’s a compromise, its not what either of us ideally want, but it’s what is fair for both of us. Did I emotionally force my ex (and potentially her partner) out of a space she should feel safe in? I feel like I was just trying to be rational and explain my feelings and motives, but my ex wasn’t being cooperative throughout the process, and continually dismissed my feelings.  SIGH