#complete with a five second doodle of Them

[l35213]

horror tropes uquiz!!

thanks so much to @the-lastcall for tagging me!! it genuinely means a lot 💕

TRACEY SAHOTA

THE LOVER

love has brought you to this place, and it will not let you leave. fear clutches you, constricts you, and it will have you killed - and yet, it is still no match for the bounty of your heart. you will try as hard as you can to protect the object of your affections. evil is nothing in the face of your warmth. even if you are successful in protecting your lover, that does not guarantee your own survival. your heart has doomed you, but what greater death is there than dying for love?

i haven’t interacted with many people as of late (to my great shame i’m SORRY!!) so i’m gonna tag @mediocre-life-span (no pressure) as well as anyone else who’d like to take part!! here’s the link!!

[keerysfreckles]

good graces — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: how you and lando celebrate after the dutch grand prix.

warnings: not proofread, fluff with a tiny tiny bit of smut!

a/n: WDYM LANDO IS A TWO TIME RACE WINNER IM SO 😭😭😭 also yes this is me coping with all the hate i saw on twt today

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

for the past hour you've been sat at the edge of your couch, watching your boyfriend and nineteen others drive around what feels like the longest track in the world.

you sadly couldn't attend the dutch grand prix this weekend, due to being needed at work friday and saturday. after many minutes of begging your boss over the phone, she reluctantly agreed to let you take sunday and monday off. you told her you wanted to be there for lando, which wasn't a total lie. you were rooting for him every single second of this race. even if it's from the couch of your shared apartment in monaco.

it was nearing the end of the race, with less than fifteen laps to go. your nails were extremely worn down from biting them during every pit stop and radio message from either lando or max, hoping the ones from your boyfriend sounded positive.

you continue watching, beginning to pace behind the back of your couch, bcoming more hopeful as the number of laps left decreases. until there's just one lap to go.

you aren't sure if you scream, cry, or jump up and down when lando crosses the finish line first. maybe it was a combination of all three.

you can't help but laugh slightly when small tears run over your cheeks, that were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. you watched in awe as lando took his position on the top step of the podium.

you hummed along with the familiar tune of the british national anthem. (thanks to lando for playing it for four hours straight once). streamers were thrown and champagne was popped as you continued smiling widely at the sight of your boyfriend being showered in the love he deserves.

ten minutes after you turned the tv off, your phone began to rang. you didn't even have to look at the screen to know it was lando calling.

"baby, i won! again!" his bright laugh fills your living room as you put him on speaker phone.

"i'm so so proud of you lan," you smile again as you congratulate him.

"did you watch the whole thing?"

you nod, "of course. what kind of girlfriend would i be if i didn't want my boyfriend's race," you tease. he asks you this everytime you can't attend a race in person.

you and lando continue talking for a few moments before he's being rushed out of his drivers room for his duties in the media pen.

"i'll be home tonight, okay? i love you," lando promises. you believe him, knowing it's only a two hour flight.

"i love you too, and i'll be waiting."

as soon as lando hangs up, you throw your phone onto the couch and run to the kitchen.

you went with lando to miami. you got to see his maiden win. you got to celebrate with him, in his driver room, at the party, and in his hotel. the two of you ordered so much room service you felt like you couldn't move the next day.

yes you still celebrated, but it didn't feel like a traditional celebration to you. so you had a plan. a great plan. you had five solid hours to execute it.

you grabbed a scrap piece of paper from the fridge. (a tic-tac-toe match lando demanded he hang on the fridge since it was the first time he beat you). you started scribbling down your ideas.

in five hours, you planned on getting a plain cake to decorate for lando. you wanted to blow up balloons (papaya color of course) and write cute messages on them. and if you had time you'd hang up matching papaya streamers.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

with thirty minutes to spare, you managed to complete everything on your small list. the vanilla cake with orange decorations was sitting in the fridge, waiting for lando's arrival.

balloons and streamers were littered around the kitchen and living room. a few balloons had doodles of stars and trophies, while others had small phrases. "race winner!!" and "happy second win baby!" were used the most.

you debated on changing your clothes. you didn't know why you even debated it. lando's told you probably a million times that he loves you in anything.

before he arrived you decided changing into one of his shirts, keeping the leggings you had on from the rest of the day.

you hear a set of keys jiggling the door knob open. you can't help but become giddy.

there he was. your boyfriend. your race winner.

"hi baby," he smiles instantly as you run over to him. you mumble some sort of short greeting back before smothering him in kisses. making sure not to miss any spots on his face. you kiss both of his cheeks, his nose, his left temple, his jaw (multiple times), and finally place a long kiss on his lips.

you wrap your arms loosely around his neck so you can look up at him to ask, "so how's my two time race winner feeling?"

his hands roam slowly around your waist, as if he's trying to remember the feeling of you, as if he didn't see you earlier in the week.

"i'm doing amazing," lando smiles, "even more amazing that i'm home with you." he leans forward to kiss your forehead, and once he leans back he finally notices the orange decorations around the room.

"what's all this?" he laughs.

you squirm out of his arms to go towards the fridge. he laughs again but his smile grows. "you got me a cake?"

you nod, "of course. the race winner deserves a cake!"

you set it down and get ready to serve yourself and lando slices, however his hand on your wrists stops you from opening the drawer. it moves slightly to interlock his fingers with yours, sending chills up your arm and down your spine.

"i know how excited you are about this cake, but how about we celebrate differently? then afterwards we can have the cake," his voice dropped to a whisper by the end of his sentence. he's stepped closer to you, making you have to look up at him slightly.

"are you sure that's what you want?" you decide to start teasing him. "i mean you're probably more than tired. wanting to do nothing but sleep all this excitement off."

lando shakes his head as fast as he possibly can, "no, no, i definitely don't want to just sleep it off."

you simply giggle before leaning up to press a passionate kiss to his lips. he reciprocates as his hands move to your jaw. his thumbs press firmly onto your cheeks.

he pulls back first, both of you slightly panting for air.

before you can get another word out, wanting to tease lando just a little further, he easily picks you up to bring you to the bedroom. you can't help but laugh as he begins kissing down your neck. your grip never falters on his shoulders as he closes the door behind him.

he sets you down on the bed, pushing you back until your head hits the pillows.

"shouldn't i be giving you some kind of special treatment? you won the race, not me," you try to negotiate while he seems to be preoccupied by running his hands under his your shirt.

"and waste all this adrenaline?" he removes your shirt, before leaving a trail of kisses up to your jaw. "you and i both know neither of us want that."

you can't possibly say no to him. just the thought of how the night could go makes your insides flutter with excitement and the pool between your legs grow.

his large hands rest on your bare waist and on your jaw. his thumb presses over your bottom lip gently as he waits for an answer.

silently, your hands move from his shoulders to the hair at the back of his neck. you thread your fingers through the small mullet he has started growing, before pulling his lips down to meet yours. you hope this gives him the answer you meant to share. you smile against his lips as you feel his hands roam down to where you need him more than ever.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

you lay on lando's bare chest, tracing over the veins in his hand thats placed over his stomach. his curls are messy and eyes are full of lust and tiredness. yours are as well, and you know you're going to be sore tomorrow morning.

lando kisses the top of your head, "you know, i think we deserve some cake."

you smile up at him and kiss his jaw. your silent way of saying a million things at once, but this one meaning thank you and i love you.

you turn and reach over the edge of the bed to grab your shirt lando threw somewhere in the room. you feel a light grip at your waist, making you smile knowing lando's always finding ways to protect you.

goosebumps rise on your legs as you adjust the shirt over your torso on your way to the kitchen. you move as quick as you can to grah the cake and two forks. you can't be bothered to cut and serve the cake at the moment.

"no plates?" lando chuckles as you hand him the cake while you readjust yourself to sit in front of him.

"i'm proud of you lando," you smile at him after taking a bite.

his dimples show up when he smiles, "thank you baby."

he leans forward to kiss you which makes you smile. he tastes sweet, a combination of the cake and moments you shared only minutes ago. his lips fit comfortably against yours, making you feel at home.

[kei-kinda-writes]

S/O from the support course!!

TYPE: Headcannons, includes: How you meet, How you end up together, and general/extra

CHARACTERS (separate): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

WARNING: Mentions and references to some of the final battles and events from the series but nothing too big

SHOTO TODOROKI

How you meet:

100% you two met after the sports festival most likely getting help for redesigning his hero costume!!

Assuming it took awhile to choose the designs probably met and had lunch together several times and grew closer

Although lunches were mostly focused on his costume once in awhile would turn into small talk and getting to know one another leading to exchanging numbers

Once finished his costume out of habit started sitting with you

Definitely ended in an interrogation from Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida after he kept on going missing during lunch to sit with you

Grew closer always sitting with one another during lunch and after over text

How you end up together:

Probably went to his friends for help about his feelings 

either one of them or he let it slip one lunch and did not realize

Two ways this ends up playing out

Either one: You ask him about it and the two of you talking about it over text that night and putting a label on it (not entirely sure)

Or two: You completely ignore it and he ends confessing like wayyyy later

Either way most likely required pushing from Ochako, Iida, and Midoriya

General:

Will find the smallest errors about his costume just to visit you

If you were to have a sketchbook or journal of some sorts for coming up with designs would put little doodles on the pages ex. smiley faces, cats, maybe even to stick men and heart with ‘us’ in it

If anyone asked about his costume he would (even if not related whatsoever) proudly talk about how you helped him make it

Asked you about whether or not the five wieners kid was right

Always hanging out in the weekend and during lunch due to not sharing any classes

Share bits of each others lunches

Getting close with Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida since you all end up sitting together during lunch ^^

Also with everything that went down in terms of his family situation and other stuff in the first year it’s likely you don’t get together till your second or third year

KATSUKI BAKUGO

How you meet:

Came along with kaminari or kirishima when they were getting costume improvements and met you

You guys were sorta friends for awhile but you weren’t entirely close

Maybe you were the one to propose the idea of his support item in the Shigaraki fight (I forgot what it’s called)

Or he came to you asking about it since you were always doing Kaminari and Kirishimas stuff and you were likely the only support course student he knew and could request it from

Building off that idea it’s probably the only way you guys became friends, I’d imagine you’d end up closer much later in the school year rather then the beginning

You’d end up getting closer as you two worked together on the piece likely meeting after school most times

Potentially gave you a compliment for your work

How you end up together:

It wouldn’t be until you guys are in your second or third year because of your late start

That’s cause I think Bakugo would be someone who very much likes to take his time with relationships

The whole confession was likely a letter on a special holiday probably because he was nervous he’d mess it up and letters are easier

That likely resulted in talking it out over lunch he had set up for you two

Took you to a secluded area not too far from campus with some food he made and you guys put a label on your relationship :))

General:

checks up on you whenever your working outside of school hours and brings you food

Doesn’t yell at you as much as he does at others

NO. MATTER. WHAT. He will always get his costume repaired by you, absolutely refuses to let someone else do it <- this has ended up in several incidents

Recommends you to his friends, 100%

Probably takes you out to lunch to catch up with eachother every once in awhile

Would reluctantly listen if you ramble about costume and support item ideas

building off that he’d probably listen and give his own ideas maybe if you were working with another student would give you feedback on what to add

IZUKU MIDORIYA

How you meet:

You meet around halfway through the school year

Could only be when Hatsume was out sick and he needed repairs on his costume

Either that or Hatsume recommends him to you when she’s busy during school festival

Past then whenever he ended up needed adjustments with his costume and went to visit Hatsume he’d talk to you and check in on you

After some small talk you’d end up exchanging numbers and getting to know eachother better over text

Probably hang out once or twice and invites to join him at lunch! :D

Eventually he starts turning to you and Hatsume for costume adjustments and repairs and you guys slowly grow closer

How you end up together:

Midoriya probably has talked to Uraraka for help

However he’s probably too shy and flustered to confess in person so there’s one of two scenarios

1: he goes to ask Uraraka for help and ends up texting you instead

It ends up a complete incident but you guys talk it out and end up together

OR

2: similarly to bakugo he gives a letter of some sorts and you guys talk about it in a secluded area

You guys likely don’t end up together until your second year though if I’m thinking realistically especially with his dedication towards one for all and being a hero

General:

quirk rambling and analysis together

Study dates :D

Daily good morning texts and stuff since you don’t see eachother super often

Movie dates in each others dorms where you watch documentaries about quirks or all might

Sitting next to eachother during lunch

Maybe he joins you in the support course lab and does his homework or something while you tinker and such :))

Probably lots of time just spent quietly doing work together

Bringing eachother food when either is working for awhile is a 100%

OCHAKO URARAKA

How you meet:

Costume improvements!!!

Specifically working together on her wrist bands, likely took awhile to figure out but you guys ended up close in the end and exchanging numbers!

For the first ‘trial period’ of using them I bet they got tangled often and she’d use that as an excuse to come visit you

Probably got closer over text and it became a very nice friendship

And she would always turn to you about her costume

How you end up together:

Confesses in person, I think she’d prefer to do it face to face even if she’s all anxious and flustered

I think you wouldn’t end up together until your third year due to the events of the final battle

At your grad party she probably took you aside for a a breather and you had a talk

Boom boom and boom you both come back to the party grinning and holding hands and you’re together :))

Very quick and easy but I’m sure her confession was well though out and heartfelt

General:

Eating Mochi together :D

Matching bracelets and stuff if that’s your jam

Building on that you would make them together and everything it would be sweet

Craft and art dates

Walks around the campus together on weekends to catch up with one another

Same as Todoroki if you had a notebook she would doodle in it

Gives you notes with silly drawings since you can’t hang out often!!

Asks for ideas on support items for her costume

I think she’d be fascinated by your work and would end up watching you lots of the time after school

When she changed her hair 100% came to you and you guys figured it out together (probably ended calling in someone else to help though)

Thanks for reading!

Side note: lmk if there’s any other characters you’d like done, I had lots of fun. Additionally apologies if there’s any typos, things don’t make sense, or the characters feel as though they aren’t properly done!

[eldritch-ace]

first of all I have to say that your art style is absolutely gorgeous!! it looks like it would taste like cheescake :] and second i was wondering if I could req some soft lexthan doodles? I think they both need some hot chocolate to calm down together <3

Okay, I am honored by that compliment since cheesecake is one of my favorite desserts!!

Also you are completely correct, they deserve all of the hot chocolate and blankets and snuggles in the world. Please let them relax for five whole seconds universe.

Original Request Post

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to you ignoring them for your dog

requested by @cinnamoroxie : "svt w an s/o that has a super hyper golden doodle.. and svt gets jealous cuz you’re giving more attention to the dog than to him"

masterlist

seungcheol

whiny, so so whiny. gets jealous instantly. the moment your dog pads into the room and your eyes are no longer on him, he's demanding your attention back and pouting and looking all sad. is acting like a puppy himself, actually. doesn't even care if your puppy is the cutest thing in the entire world because he's meant to be your cutest puppy.

jeonghan

goes all "hey >:(((" when he sees that you're not paying attention to him, but then he looks behind him to see the dog and he's all "!!! so cute!!!" coos over your dog for like ten minutes but when you end up paying more attention to it rather than him he's all "hey >:(((" again bc yeah your doggo is pretty but he's pretty too???

joshua

your dog doesn't even come over to you, it goes over to joshua. you're not paying attention to what shua says purely because your puppy just looks so comfortable in shua's arms as if he was the one to own your pup. joshua acts like nothing is wrong at all tho, n keeps pouting telling you to look at him while he's talking :(((

junhui

just starts ignoring you in favour of cooing over your dog too. your dog had come in at some point while you'd been together in the living room, but an hour later and the pup has been getting a little wriggly and you've been distracted. so, in return, junhui baby talks to your dog constantly and pretends you don't exist until you're laughing and pouting for him to look at you too

hoshi

he's devastated. heart broken. "you love a dog more than you love me????" begrudgingly admits that your doggo is cute but he's still cute too so why don't you coo over him :(( "okay be honest if i were a tiger and not a person would you still love a dog more? yes??? but i'd be a tiger!!"

wonwoo

you purposefully start ignoring him when your dog walks into the living room, but wonwoo just stays completely silent until you finally look up to look at him. he's just smiling at you, so softly, watching you play with your dog. goes "i never knew you had a dog 😊" so sweetly like he didn't even know you were plotting against him bc he just thinks you're so cute

woozi

sits there twiddling his thumbs when you start ignoring him favour of humouring your hyper puppy, but when you smile and apologise for cutting him off he just grins and asks if he can pet your dog too ^^

minghao

he doesn't mind your dog, in fact he loves your dog, but now you've started ignoring him in favour of petting it and so he's a little upset. and petty, so he ends up regaling your dog with his life stories instead of you, and so now he's the one ignoring you in favour of your dog instead

mingyu

you don't have a dog wym it's just him. he's your dog. nonono you don't own an actual puppy, he's your puppy. your dog scratches against the door whining to be let in and join your conversation and he just goes "what dog :|". doesn't let you use your dog as a jealousy ploy bc he is your dog okay

dokyeom

doesn't even care pls bro is ignoring you first. your mother comes back into the house from walking your dog while he's staying over and he immediately has tunnel vision for the adorable little puppy alone. you don't even exist to him anymore, he's just cooing at the adorable puppy for the rest of the time he's there. promises to come back again very soon. for your dog, that is.

seungkwan

gets offended for all of five seconds when you stop talking when your dog comes into the room but then you show him your dog and he's just absolutely enamoured by the adorable puppy, cooing and asking you a million questions ranging from how old your dog is to whether he's allowed to steal it

vernon

you get distracted when your dog starts whining for your attention and stop listening to him talking but he doesn't even care bc he's just smiling and taking a video of you cooing over your puppy bc he's never seen you baby talk anyone or anything like that before and it's adorable

chan

ends up just playing with your dog with you fr. doesn't even register that you ended up ignoring him bc honestly if he was you then he'd definitely also ignore you to play with such a hyper and adorable puppy. you still try to ignore him to make him jealous but it doesn't work bc your dog ends up loving chan more than u so they're both ignoring you instead

request guidelines

reactions tags:

@jeonginssa @magicaltonaru @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @turningcarat @nakedgrapes @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @iheartyujin @summery-bat @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @interlude-z @ejspencer14 @cinnamoroxie @wonranghaeee @saythename-chess @yonabutnotyuna @youthoughtiwasfeelingyou @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @butiluvu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ocyeanicc @zozojella @thesmellofcoffeeandrain @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @nananacomeonnnn @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @hansolaria

[volturissideslut]

So I L O V E your works and I cam across the "Isabella nothing here yet" issue, let's change that👹

So Isabella with a gn! cullen! Reader and Bella just straight up walks into the reader after following Eddie after their first class together because Eddie whispered something like get her away from me and reader being the amazing sibling follows after some sass, honestly I do whatever my brother asks me after saying yes your highness but that's not the point, so reader talks to Bella for a second and Bella just being immediately fascinated by them because of their gift, just like Bella not being shielded from Alice's and Jaspers gift they can capture everyone's interest and make them do almost everything they want them to, if their "prey" isnt physically abke to they won't even with their gift and so Bella just follows reader all day and they spwnd tike together because reader wants to know whats so special about the new girl

It's long but I thought about this way too long so here my brain vomit😵‍💫👹

𝕭𝖊𝖑��𝖆 𝕾𝖜𝖆𝖓

"Hey bellsie baby" you say, not even looking up from your current task of doodling in your notebook when the girl comes and sits with you. "How was bio with Edward? Do i need to tell him to knock it off again?"

Bella's hand runs through her hair as she gives a short laugh, plopping down into the seat next to you. "No, he's all good. What are you working on?" Her face hovers over your notebook, maths equations abandoned and a new outline of a poorly drawn dog (or dragon maybe? she really could't tell) rests just two lines under. The typical stutter and anxiousness of Bella is somehow forgotten at the door when she's with you, conversation feeling as if you two had known each other for years and bared your very souls to each other despite the reality of having only met just a few days ago.

"Well you just let me know if he's acting up again. As his sister it is my duty and right to tell him to piss off" a grin plasters itself onto your face. The over the top, and unnecessarily big, pink pom pom attached to the tip of your pencil taps against your chin in mock thought. With a few more flicks of the lead you sit back, "my masterpeice is complete"

"Right" Bella nods, chewing on the inside of her mouth in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. "And how much will you sell this one for"

"Couple hundred thousand" you nose scrunches as you shrug, and Balla laughs. Out loud. In the quiet classroom. She catches it after a few seconds though, and quiets herself down.

Who was this? Certainly not her, or maybe it was you? Somehow she didn't feel out of place like a seven foot lanky athlete having a tea party with a toddler.

"I'm sure the crowds will flock for your donkey-monkey-mountain(??) picture" Conversing with you was easy, she could even make you laugh. Just as you were right now.

"Maybe I should give it to you instead, are we still on for me coming over later?"

"Oh absolutely, my dad Charlie keeps asking if you want to come to the diner with us. I think he's a little excited i finally have a friend" she chuckles to herself.

Halfway through her sentence you notice your brother Edward coming in, eyes dark as if he hadn't fed in weeks despite eating that very same morning. You don't acknowledge it in front of Bella though, simply giving her a little laugh and a short "If he misses me that much then maybe we should head back now".

She smiles with a nod, offering to meet you at her truck in five, just needing to put some books in her locker or something along those lines. You just give a nod and a smile, muttering under your breath for any listening ears to control themselves and your getting her out now.

What a great sister.

[chrisbitchtree]

Inspired by this post from @ariesbilly!

***

Growing up with Neil Hargrove as a father, Billy was almost too scared to even think about being gay, let alone what his type might be, but he certainly never thought his type would be Just Some Guy™️.

Yet, now that he’s finally away at college and free to explore his sexuality, here he is in the cafeteria with Heather, barely two weeks into his first semester, trying to discreetly point out to her the guy he’s crushing on in his Intro to Psych class.

Steve Harrington. He of the shaggy brown hair constantly covered in a worn baseball cap, circular plastic glasses, and basic t-shirts and jeans. The most exciting his look ever gets is when he wears the baseball cap backwards. Billy swoons a little bit every time he sees him.

“Him?” Heather asks, after he’s confirmed that Billy’s not talking about the fifty other guys with plastic glasses and baseball caps dispersed around the space. “He’s so boring.”

“I know,” Billy replies, sighing. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about him. Last night I had a dream that he was about to take off his glasses before he fucked me and I asked if he could keep them on.”

“Jesus, Hargrove,” Heather laughs as she steals a fry from his plate. “You’ve got it bad. So, what are you going to do about it?”

Billy has no clue. They watch Steve in silence for a couple minutes, until he’s joined by a girl that couldn’t be any more the opposite of Just Some Guy™️. She’s got on bright red Converse that appear to be completely covered in doodles, carpenters pants that are splattered with paint, and the world’s ugliest tie dyed bucket hat. Steve leans over to say something to her and she’s instantly laughing, swatting his arm.

“I don’t even know if he’s into guys,” Billy finally replies. “That could be his girlfriend for all we know. Opposites do attract.”

Heather gives him an affronted look. “First of all, bisexuality exists, jackass, and second of all, unless she’s cheating on him, she’s not his girlfriend. How do I know this, you ask?”

“How?”

“I fucked her last night. And we’re going on a date tonight.”

Billy’s shocked, but recovers to give her a congratulatory high five. His girl’s got game.

“How did that happen?”

“I saw her at that mixer I went to, thought she was hot, asked if she wanted to get a room and that was that.”

Billy shakes his head, laughing. “If only it was that easy for me.”

Heather stacks their trays and grabs them. “Follow me.”

Billy does, curious to see what’s going to happen next. His curiosity turns to horror as she marches over to Steve and his friend. Billy wants to run, but he takes a deep breath and follows her instead, trying to be brave for once.

“Hey Robin, can’t wait for tonight.” She greets the girl before turning to Steve.

“You into guys?”

Steve looks confused, but still nods slowly.

“Great,” Heather says. “You think my boy is hot?”

Steve nods more vigorously than before.

“Perfect,” Heather replies, a smile curling over her lips as she turns to Robin. “Bring him tonight. It’s a double date.”

Billy finally works up the nerve to look directly at Steve and sees a shy grin on his face. Their eyes meet and Billy grins back. Steve might be just Just Some Guy™️ to most, but he’s The Guy, The Only Guy, to Billy.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 2

Start with Pt. 1 HERE!

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: ALL OF THE SAME WARNINGS AS PART 1, plus more angst, some fluff, general dark themes, depiction of a stick n' poke tattoo, violence, makeshift weapons, fear toxin, Crane spikes someone's drink (not the reader's)

A/N: Back by mildly popular demand lol :) First, I have to give a huge thank you to @cillianslvt for all of her help with brainstorming, concept bouncing, and song picking! She gave me the perfect inspo for this part: Supercut by Lorde.

I wanted to do something a bit different here, so this is told in alternating cuts between the fallout from part 1 (written in past tense) and flashbacks to the reader's college days (written in present tense just to be confusing lol). I probably will be writing one more part for this, but it might be a while before it's out because I kind of want to take a small break from angst haha. But, I hope you enjoy this part!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Somewhere out in the echoing hallway, an alarm buzzed.

“Lights out in five minutes!”

The guard’s booming voice was almost too muffled to understand through the thick metal door. But you weren’t paying enough attention for it to matter. It was the same routine, for the hundredth time. You didn’t need an announcement to know that you were about to be plunged into the dark.

And besides, you had more important things to worry about.

Your fingers traced over the hearts that still littered your bedsheets. Contained to one of the corners for now, but wild and scattered, as if they might be about to spill out over the rest of the white cotton at any moment. Unrestrained.

You clenched your teeth, trying hard to focus on something other than the hailstorm of tremors that seemed ready to wrack your body. Your skin was prickling. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if what came out would be a sob or a scream. You didn’t particularly want to find out.

The familiar sound of a key in the lock was enough to pull you out of your stupor. Quickly, you covered the doodles again, and whipped your head toward the door, hoping.

But no. It was nobody. Some faceless orderly, sent to give you the pills that you never took, if you could get away with hiding them.

Tonight, though, you decided to behave. You had certainly been causing enough trouble lately. And besides, if you were being honest, you could use them. Your mood had been a complete mess all day, and a little stability would be nice, for a change.

You swallowed your pride along with the pills, and flopped back onto the mattress. As soon as the orderly was gone, you inched the sheets back down, exposing the blue stains. Tomorrow was laundry day, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy them for much longer.

Seconds later, the lights flicked out, and you were left alone with your memories.

The asphalt beneath your feet feels like it’s not even there as you practically skip down the driveway, and you’re not sure how gravity still has a hold on you by the time your hand wrenches open the car door.

“Hey!” You smile as you climb in, whipping around quickly to fasten your seatbelt. Maybe that will be enough to ground you, but it doesn’t seem likely. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“You took long enough to get out here,” he replies, slightly snarky.

But when you finally look up at him, his soft half-smile makes your heart melt, and your legs and arms feel even more weightless than ever. His blue eyes peer over at you from just below the rim of his glasses, and he tilts his head while he waits for you to respond.

“Fuck off, Jonathan,” you laugh, waving a hand in his direction.

He shakes his head, shifting to take hold of the wheel.

As he starts the car, the two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you use the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He’s bundled up tightly in his jacket. A slight chill permeates the air, though you feel perfectly warm sitting next to him.

“I don’t know how you can stand driving around without listening to music,” you say suddenly, reaching for the radio.

It takes you a minute to find anything worth listening to. Static mixed intermittently with snippets of sound fills the car as you carefully turn the dial, until finally landing on something you know. Satisfied, you sit back.

“I don’t know how you can stand listening to this,” Jonathan laughs. “I mean, are you even hearing these lyrics?”

“I like the lyrics!” you insist. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re just cheesy,” he says, dismissively.

You roll your eyes, and settle back with your arm resting against the car door. Before long, your head is bobbing along to the music, and you start to hum.

You’ve only known Jonathan for a few weeks, but already it’s become nearly impossible to ignore the way your heart pounds when you’re next to him. It’s nerve wracking - to think he might not feel that way about you. But you don’t let yourself imagine that possibility too often. It’s better to stay positive, and look to your future together. You honestly can’t imagine things any other way.

At the start of the chorus, your humming turns gradually into words - quiet at first, and then louder when Jonathan doesn’t try to stop you. Soon, you’re singing at full volume.

“You know, distracted driving is the number one cause of car accidents,” he informs you.

When you look over, you notice the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“But music improves mood and cognition,” you shoot back, interrupting your singing to give him a slight shove. “Shouldn’t you know that, Mr. Psychology Major?”

Jonathan scoffs, but mercifully keeps his mouth shut when you open yours to start singing again, rolling down the window to scream into the night.

Your eyes, tight with heavy sleep, shot suddenly open, to be met by the darkness of your cell. Breath heavy, you tried to remember the dream you’d been having. Whatever it was, it had gotten you worked up. So much for the sedatives doing you any good; maybe Crane hadn’t actually upped your dose like he’d threatened to do.

Or he had, and this was just your body’s paradoxical reaction to the sudden increase. Not that you had been taking the regular dose with any consistency.

You considered getting up, but what was the point in that? There was nowhere to go but from one corner of the small room to the other, and you had spent enough time pacing back and forth to last a lifetime.

The small window set high up on the wall of your cell let in a sliver of light, just briefly, as a rotating searchlight made its round, and you closed your eyes again.

The university’s library is calming, in a way. The seemingly endless stacks of books reach out to greet you as you run your hands over their spines, walking slowly down one row and then another. 

You’re looking for something specific, but not a book. You know that he always comes here at this time.

Jonathan is crouched down to reach something on a low shelf when you finally see him. You hover, half-hidden, at the end of the row where he’s kneeling, and watch as he flips through the first few pages of a book. Satisfied, he stands up, and you saunter into the aisle to join him.

“Hey,” you call, softly. “Thought I might find you here.”

Jonathan tucks the book under his arm, and looks at you curiously for a moment.

“Hey,” he echoes, apprehensive. “Don’t you have class right now?”

“Do I?” you ask, stopping next to him. “Whoops. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing. Just a book for class. Unlike some people I know, I take academics seriously.”

As he talks, he tilts his head to the side and takes a step closer to you, crowding you back against the bookshelves. He’s smiling. Just having fun with you; you’re sure of it. But you can’t stop the warm rush that spreads over your cheeks.

You try to straighten up under his gaze, bringing the tip of your nose close to his.

“I take this stuff seriously, too,” you insist. “Here, I’ll prove it. What’re you studying?”

Before giving him a chance to respond, you reach down and snatch the book from his hand. Brushing a thumb over the cover, you consider the title.

“Phobias, huh?” you muse. “No offense, Jonathan. But you’re not very scary.”

You beam as you watch a blush creep over his cheeks. He’s been doing that around you more often, and every time you notice it, your heart swells.

“You don’t think so?” he drones, taking another step closer.

He’s nearly on top of you as you press back into the row of books, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. Not out of fear, but for an entirely different reason.

“Nope,” you challenge. “Not scary at all.”

“Hm. Guess I’ll have to try harder then.” 

He snatches the book back and starts to move away from you, but before he can get too far, both of your hands shoot out. Your fingers grab onto his sweater, and faster than you have a chance to think, suddenly your lips are pressing against his. Eyes squeezed shut so you don’t have to face his reaction, you hold him. But when you let go of his shirt, he stays there for a few seconds longer, before pulling away.

“That was scary,” you breathe, finally daring to meet his cold eyes.

But, what you see there is softness, mixed with slight shock. The piercing, frost-blue that normally seems to slice through you has taken on a watery quality, as if something has melted, if just for a moment.

You take a deep breath as Jonathan leans back in.

By the time the orderlies had started to wheel their huge bin of laundry down the narrow hall, your white sheets were already torn off and crumpled at the foot of your bed. You weren’t about to take the risk of anyone else seeing the hearts you’d drawn. This way, they were unlikely to be noticed. At least until after they’d already been mixed with all of the other patients’ laundry, untraceable to you.

Before, the worst that could happen was you losing your pen - a sorry excuse for entertainment, but nothing vital. Now, losing that same pen meant losing your one chance at freedom as well, and you weren’t prepared to give that up.

You stood in the far corner of the room, watching silently as two men came in to collect your sheets. They didn’t comment on the fact that you’d stripped your own bed - perhaps too caught up in their meaningless conversation to notice.

When they left, you finally felt able to breathe again. You exhaled, trying to push every last trace of air out of your lungs so that you could start fresh again.

Sitting back down on your new set of sheets, you ran your hand over the blank space that no longer bore even a faint trace of love.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asks, leaning over your shoulder to peer down at whatever has you so occupied.

“Giving myself a tattoo,” you reply easily. 

“What?”

“It’s just a little heart - see?”

You carefully hold up your wrist to him, showing off the half finished lobe of a heart. One side of it, anyway. It’s slow going, but you’re determined to take your time; to not rush through the impulsive decision you’ve made.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I felt like it,” you reply. “Do I need another reason?”

“Did you at least sterilize your wrist - and the needle?” he sighs.

“I used some hand sanitizer. M’sure that’s good enough.”

Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose, putting his other hand on his hip.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he complains.

“Well, it’s not like I can’t stop now, though - right?” you say, playfully. “You’re always telling me not to leave things half finished.”

Jonathan sits down in the chair next to you, as you go back to carefully maneuvering the needle. Your tongue sticks out from the corner of your mouth, frozen in concentration. You jump, just a fraction of an inch, as the sharp point breaches your skin.

“Give me that,” Jonathan mutters.

He’s already swiped the needle away from you, and is holding your wrist down securely against the table as he inspects your work.

“This isn’t going to heal nicely,” he informs you.

“I don’t care.”

To your surprise, he dips the needle into the little pot of ink that’s sitting on the table between you, and then lines up the point to continue.

“You’re pushing it in way too deep,” he says, peering over his glasses.

When he presses down, the sharp end of the needle barely seems to graze you. It doesn’t hurt so much when he does it. Jonathan’s thumb brushes over the flesh of your palm, soothing you.

“You’re good at this,” you comment. “You’ll make a good doctor someday.”

Jonathan tries to hide his smile, but you catch the small curl of his lips despite the way he’s hunched over, focusing on your tattoo. The second jab is just as painless as the first, and you smile back.

“This isn’t exactly what I picture myself doing for work.” He laughs - just a small hum, but it’s there.

“Right - you want to study the fear of needles. Not be the one jabbing patients.”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

The two of you sit, huddled close in the silence; you watching Jonathan work as he gingerly uses the needle. It’s strangely intimate, and you feel closer to him than you have in a long time. 

Not because you’ve spent too much time apart. On the contrary, you’ve been seeing each other more often than ever. But the more time you spend with him, the sharper you seem to feel his small absences. It has, lately, started to seem like you need to see Jonathan more and more often just to feel normal; like you’re in danger of something bad happening when he’s not there.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“The tattoo means more, now that you’re the one doing it.”

Jonathan keeps his head bowed, trying desperately not to let you see his expression. The tips of his ears give him away, though, as they turn a bright pink behind strands of hair that have fallen away as he leans down.

“Jonathan?” “Hm?”

“It’s polite to say ‘you’re welcome’ when someone thanks you,” you tease.

As he looks up to narrow his eyes at you, you take the chance to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

The harsh white fluorescents buzzed over your head as you leaned back in your uncomfortable chair. You’d sat in this same plastic seat for probably dozens of therapy sessions. Not once had the miserable thing ever done anything other than give you back pain.

“Are you paying attention?” the doctor in front of you asked.

“No,” you replied.

What was the use in lying, when it was obvious to both of you?

The doctor hummed in annoyance, shuffled some papers, and frowned at her clipboard. 

“Well I suggest you start,” she began, “because what we’re trying to do here is very important. You know your appeal is in the process of being reviewed, and…”

You tuned her out, turning your attention to the much more important matter of planning your escape. Even just thinking those words made you feel strangely giddy. This was something that happened in movies and cheap paperback novels; not real life. But, you had made up your mind, and there would be no going back now. You were going to rebuild your life with the person who mattered most, and doing that meant that you needed to get out of here.

You thought of the ballpoint pen, now modified and hidden, deep within the bones of your mattress. It had taken patience to sharpen the plastic casing against the concrete, and patience was something you didn’t have much of these days. But in the end, it would all be worth it.

“...three counts of manslaughter, and two more of - are you listening?” the doctor repeated. 

“Why should I? We both know that I’ve heard this a thousand times,” you sighed.

The doctor, equally as exasperated, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. It’s your life.”

“My life doesn’t exist in here,” you whispered. “Not the one I want, anyway.”

“Well, it’s the one you’ve got, so maybe you ought to start acting like it,” she suggested.

You ignored her, and retreated back into the world that only existed inside your memories. Yours… and his, if you were lucky.

The room is dark and full of music. Music, and bodies - swaying in time to the rhythm; draped over furniture or pressed up against walls, as lips meet and hands wander. You pass by two people who look like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and duck under the raised elbow of somebody else as they pump their fist in the air. A clamor erupts as you pass; some conversation you’re not part of that’s full of hollered laughter and shouts.

You’re looking for Jonathan, amidst all the colors and flashing lights. You’d left him several minutes ago to go and find the bathroom, and got turned around on your way back. The slight buzz of alcohol makes your limbs a bit looser than usual, and you pause to savor the deep thrum that emanates from the sound system. As you close your eyes, your feet sway a little, and you smile.

Jonathan is never interested in going to parties with you, but for whatever reason, he had accepted the invitation tonight. You like to think it’s because he just wants to spend time with you, even if loud, messy gatherings aren’t usually his idea of a good time.

Finally, you find your way back to the couch where you left him. And there he is, smiling that soft half-smile you know so well, from the hundreds of times it’s made your heart do somersaults in your chest.

You frown. Scowl.

Jonathan is leaning forward, hands on his legs as he talks to another woman. Smiles at her. You stop short in your tracks, and watch from a distance as Jonathan tilts his head to her ear, whispering something.

The girl stands up, giggles while she looks down at him for a moment, and then walks off. You see red; a crimson wash that feels slightly too familiar as it drapes over you.

Jonathan, still on the couch, smiles for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket. The girl has moved on by now, and you watch as the affable grin is wiped neatly from Jonathan’s face, replaced by something blank and more difficult to categorize.

There’s a tiny glass tube in his hand. You can’t see what it is exactly, but you can make out the way he removes a cap, and then brings his hand close to the red plastic cup that’s sitting on the table in front of him, right where the woman had been.

Your rage propels you forward, and without time to think things through, you’ve grabbed the sleeve of his jacket before you even realize you’ve reached him.

“Shit- Oh. It’s you,” Jonathan mumbles.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

Jonathan looks at your hand on his arm. The vial, now empty and still pinched between his fingers, hidden from the rest of the crowd. And then back up to your face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he begins.

“What are you doing?” you repeat, your voice wobbling louder.

Jonathan’s eyes dart off to the side, and he stands up quickly. Suddenly, his hand is in yours and he’s dragging you off, heading for a set of glass doors that lead to the back patio.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he says, and you can barely hear him muttering over the sound of the screeching music and the pounding, frantic whir that seems to have taken over your head. 

By the time you’re outside, the door shut firm behind you, you haven’t calmed down a bit.

“Jonathan-”

“I swear, I’m not doing anything bad,” he interjects. “I know that it… probably looks like I’m-”

“Why her?” you say, softly.

You can’t even stand to look at him as you speak. Your whole chest feels impossibly heavy; as if it’s consuming the rest of your body, piece by dissolving piece.

“...What?” Jonathan looks at you curiously, as you feel yourself fall even more fully apart.

“Why her, when I’m right here, huh?” you demand, tears squeezing out from behind your damp eyelashes, even as you try to blink them back. “I’m yours, Jonathan. I’ve been yours. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s not… God, I’m not trying to-”

“You don’t even have to try with me!” you cry, voice rising up into a frenzy. Your hands fly to slam against him, pushing him by the shoulders. “You’ve never had to-”

You cut yourself off, and cradle your wrist to your chest. The tattoo that he gave you is settled close by to your heart, and you bring your other hand up to trace absently over the ink that mirrors it.

“Listen to me,” Jonathan says, taking hold of your shoulders. You look up at him, salty tears still welled in your eyes, starting to spill down over your cheeks. “That’s not what I’m doing. This is just… research.”

“Research?” you echo.

“Yes. That’s all,” he assures you. Both of you have started to calm down, and the pressure of his hands on your shoulders finally becomes noticeable. “It’s for… how do I phrase this?”

The sounds of the party are muffled out here, but suddenly a sharp scream rises over the music. Both of you turn to peer through the glass doors, and you catch a brief glimpse of the woman from earlier, just as the red plastic cup falls from her hand. She claws at her face, and sinks to the floor, still screaming.

Your focus shifts back to Jonathan, and you watch as he stares through the glass, his eyes frigid and, suddenly, calculating. His hands are still on your shoulders, and you feel as his grip tightens slightly, as if his fingers are itching to do… something. You can’t say quite what.

“...Fear,” you breathe, quietly.

You aren’t sure exactly what’s going on, but some sort of vague understanding has started to seep into your nerves, mending the frays that had threatened to form. Like healing salve, soothed over all of the tiny rips and tears that had nearly pulled you apart, only seconds ago.

“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s all I wanted her for. I swear.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you again, a serious expression on his strained face. His eyes seem to bore into yours, but it’s comforting, just to feel like he’s burrowing into you.

The commotion inside becomes louder; more shouts of alarm rising to join the first, and you hear something crash to the ground. But you’re not paying attention to that anymore; you’re swimming in Jonathan’s eyes as the tears slowly dry from yours.

“Jonathan?” you ask. “Can we go home?”

He turns to look again at the riot that’s quickly developing inside; the bass of the music replaced now by shrill cries that have risen above everything. For a moment, you think he’s about to refuse, and the lump in your throat almost tears through the delicate flesh of your neck.

“Sure. Let’s go home,” he agrees.

You walk, hand in hand, away from the party. Looping around the house and down the sidewalk, your fingers intertwine with his in the night air. You smile, and grab onto Jonathan’s arm, pulling him closer.

Today was the day.

You pulled your sleeve down, trying to cover the now-sharpened pen casing that was held tight in your sweaty hand. The tip of your finger brushed over the point, as you went over the plan in your head again.

If you could manage to be stealthy enough, you wouldn’t even need the pen. Not that you would hesitate to use it, but there was a certain amount of risk that you’d prefer to avoid if at all possible. Things could get messy, and that would be sure to draw attention. For once, you didn’t want Crane to notice what you were doing.

You stayed close to the wall of the cafeteria, practically hugging the stone as you walked briskly. It was important to be fast, but not too fast.

“What are you doing?” asked a sharp voice behind you.

You would have spun faster than either of you could blink, pen at the ready to plunge into his neck. If only you hadn’t recognized the voice.

Crane grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, and you screamed silently behind your eyes.

“Nothing,” you said calmly. “Going for a walk.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Crane sighed, already dragging you to face him. His expression was just as drab as the bricks that now pressed into your back. “What’s in your hand?”

Your finger flicked over the sharp point again. This was the one possibility that you hadn’t imagined, of course. The one opponent your weapon was useless against, all because you couldn’t bring yourself to use it.

With your jaw set and shoulders squared, you straightened up to face him. You wouldn’t shy away from his eyes, even if looking at them meant facing the disappointment that lurked, not-so-subtly beneath their surface.

Crane grew impatient awaiting your answer, and grabbed you by the wrist. You let him. It was useless to resist, and the two of you glared at each other as he yanked your hand and your fingers fell open. The story was written over your palm, almost as clearly as if you had used the pen to record it across your own flesh.

Crane picked up the wrecked pen, considered the jagged edge of the plastic, and pocketed it. Without another word, he turned and dragged you out of the cafeteria, heading toward your cell.

Jonathan’s hand in yours is restless; seeming to flutter as his thumb drifts absentmindedly, rubbing back and forth in a way that might be more soothing for him than it is to you. You want to help him, but you’re not sure how. You’ve noticed the anxieties that have seemed to overwhelm him lately, and you wish there was more you could offer him.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you suggest. “We could watch a movie or something. Go for a walk?”

Jonathan shakes his head, and tears his hand away to go back to scribbling on the pad in front of him. The paper is already littered with letters and symbols that mean nothing to you. Three vials full of pale liquid - Jonathan’s pet project - roll gently back and forth on the table.

“I can’t get it right, and I don’t know why,” he snaps, frustrated. “I need to run more tests, but…”

“I could test it for you,” you offer.

Jonathan looks at you with a mix of shock and, maybe, revulsion, and you feel yourself shrink back into your seat.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask,” you reply. “I’d do anything for you.”

His expression morphs into something that’s harder to read. That’s been happening more and more often lately, and it’s started to panic you when it does. You know him so well, but suddenly, there are sides to him that seem almost foreign to you. You bring a hand up to cup his sharp cheek, and the smile stretched over your own face feels plastic.

“Us against the world,” you remind him.

Jonathan places his hand over yours, only for a moment before pulling away entirely.

“I just… want to know I can do something,” he says. “Something I set my own mind to.”

“You can,” you assure him. “You have.”

“My whole life, I’ve felt as if I’m just reacting to things that are outside of my control,” he continues, almost as if he hadn’t heard you. “I just want to understand why.”

Emotion has crept into his voice, and your first instinct is to pull back. You ignore it. Instead, you place a kiss on his temple, and he lets his head fall to rest on your shoulder. The room is silent for a moment, as you wrap both your arms around him and try to think of something to say.

“You know I’d be lost without you, right?” you ask, gently. 

“That’s because you have a dysfunctional attachment style.”

You stop. His words, flat and unemotional, pierce through you as if he had stabbed instead of spoken them. You can feel the ground opening up at your feet, and struggle to reassert yourself.

“That’s not true. You… don’t mean that,” you flounder.

“Maybe I don’t,” he agrees, halfheartedly. “Who knows anymore.”

Your heart aches. You hate that he’s talking like this is the end of something. A foregone conclusion that’s just out of his grasp, but that he doesn’t even care to reach for. A sentence on a page, half-finished but forgotten.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you decide. “You’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” you suggest. 

He nods, and you take hold of his hand to guide him, the dark ink of your tattoo pressed up against the blank space on his wrist.

Back in your cell, Crane didn’t bother to lock the door behind him for once. Instead, he stood directly in front of it, hands on his hips as he stared down at you.

“I would say I’m shocked, but I’m not,” he sighed, voice already grinding against itself. “But, what I can’t figure out is this. What gave you the idea that this would go well for you?”

You didn’t answer.

“It’s not as if I don’t monitor you.”

Normally, the admission that he’d been paying attention to you would have made your heart flutter. But now, it felt like there was nothing more than a pit in your chest. The same one that was always there, longing for something that could fill it without being swallowed.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you, and not somebody else.” He moved one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, just like he always had. For as long as you’d known him. “Don’t you ever stop and think before you act?”

That was insulting. You’d spent plenty of time thinking about this. In fact, it was all you’d been focusing on for weeks - at least when your mind was clear enough to focus. 

And really, he was one to talk. How many times had you helped him crawl out of one failed situation or another? It wasn’t fair for him to talk like everything he did went perfectly, when both of you knew very well that it didn’t.

“Don’t have anything to say?” Crane pried.

You felt anger swell furiously within you, and - as if to prove the point he’d just made - you surged forward without thinking. Crane didn’t have any time to react, and you pressed your lips up against his in a harsh kiss that felt sickeningly void of love. Your cold fingers grabbed at the front of his sweater, and you felt your lips crush into your teeth, desperately searching for some hint of the spark that you felt certain was still there.

Crane scrambled, his back pressed against the hard door, and finally tore you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he spat.

Your eyes were downcast, unable to meet his, and you bit the cracked skin of your lips.

“Who knows anymore,” you replied, echoing his words from long ago.

“You need to control yourself,” Crane hissed. “If you can’t, I’m not going to keep making excuses for you.”

His words might as well have just echoed off the stone walls, vibrating in an empty cell. You weren’t listening. You weren’t even there anymore.

Fleeting as a beam of light. 

Crane collected himself and then left, departing just as the sleek ribbons of past life came to wrap over you again.

You woke, not realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t sure how long it had been since Crane left, but, judging by the way the lights were already turned out, it had been hours. 

Automatically, your hand went to the top corner of your mattress, intent on blindly tracing over the hearts that had once been there on the sheets. But of course, they weren’t anymore. Instead, though, you heard a clatter as something fell to the floor.

That was odd. Certainly, you hadn’t left anything there this morning. It wasn’t as if you had any possessions to leave.

Groping in the dark, your fingers slid across the floor. Finally, you found it, and held the object up close to your face.

A key.

Your lips curled as you held tight to the metal.

Read Pt. 3 HERE!

[almightyellie]

baby, i'm yours

in which you and bradley are in the same major and you're completely unaware of how much he adores you.

pairing is frat!bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

word count is 5.5k

author says stem major rooster supremacy <3

you should watch out for drinking, college au, language, party settings, mention of puking

title song is baby i'm yours // arctic monkey

bradley has never been the type to pine.

he had never been one for coveting from a distance, and why would he? bradley had grown up fighting for what he wanted. he had grown with an admirable, if not appalling, amount of confidence. bradley bradshaw had walked with a swagger that simply couldn’t be learned, and for the most part, it had gotten him what he wanted. sure, every once in a while he had to fight a little harder to get the girl, but he always got them in the end. until you.

you aren’t his type, that’s for sure, but something about you is impossible to shake. he’s spent at least three semesters staring at you from opposite ends of lecture halls, and maybe he likes you because you’re not his type. you seem conscientious, dedicated, and entirely uninterested.

it hurts the ego, sure, but bradley isn’t one to give up so easily. after all, you’ve only spoken once and he really hadn’t put his best foot forward. he should have known better, really, because you might be the only one in a nine am lecture who seems genuinely eager to understand enzyme kinetics. the idea of a frat party wouldn’t have interested you, and the offhanded invitation in the campus bookstore was met with a predictably tight smile and a, “yeah, maybe. thanks for the invite.” it’s the most polite blow-off he’s ever received.

that was august. now, spinning into the end of october, he’s been so embarrassed by his complete failure to accurately gauge your interests that he hasn’t even bothered to try again. he’s losing his nerve; more importantly, jake is convinced that bradley’s losing his masculinity. not that bradley has ever given a second thought to what jake thinks; he’s pretty sure that he could count all of jake’s iq points on his fingers, so he rarely gives weight to his opinion. 

and yet, he can’t let it go. he can’t stop watching you from across the room, wondering what you would do if he sat next to you. wondering if you ever watched him, too. wondering if you realized how, with one measly conversation under your belt, you’ve entirely captivated bradley bradshaw.

the virtue of having such a large student group in your major is that group projects aren’t a concern. it was one of the things you had so looked forward to when you were working through your generals, the idea of doing your own work on your own time, without the opinions of anyone else. and it’s a little isolating, somehow, that you can sit in two lectures a day, five days a week, with a hundred people each, and not say a word to anyone but callie. 

next to you, she pays little attention to the lecture, doodling in her notebook and scrolling through her phone. where you had been tirelessly devoted to your academics, callie had found a way to succeed without even trying. you take notes out of necessity, but it seemed like she picked up the information just as well by only half-listening to the lecture. as you scribble notes down in your notebook, your best friend nudges your elbow and tilts her phone toward you to show you a text. 

nat: halloween party @ pike on friday

nat: bob said the door’s open to everyone

you frown, spinning your pencil between your fingers and shaking your head. callie groans quietly, leaning in to whisper. “come on, it won’t be that bad.”

and no, it probably wouldn’t be. you had never been to the parties they were always pushing, but they couldn’t be terrible if nat and callie were there; further, anywhere nat was, so was bob, who you entirely adored. it wasn’t that you had no interest in the parties; you, more than any of your friends, needed to let loose. but even after three years, you couldn’t stand the idea of having to market yourself to your peers; why would you meet new people when you had already found your family?

“pike is full of dorks and nerds,” callie continues. “it probably won’t even be that busy.”

you shrug, and callie grins. the text that she sends into the group chat rings in on your laptop.

cal: we’re there!

your heart leaps into your throat when nat pushes you forward gently. both callie and natasha had assured you that the party likely wouldn’t have been too crowded. bob is just as surprised as you, whispering to nat, “have you ever seen it this packed?”

the four of you can barely move through the living room and you look over bob’s shoulder, ignoring the unhappy way your stomach churns. from the way callie had talked about it, you hadn’t thought it would be like this. heat hits you like a wall every time you walk into a new room and you’re already overwhelmed, between the endless stream of conversations and the pounding music pumping through the walls. 

bob spots reuben in the kitchen, and, already drunk, he greets all of you eagerly. it’s overfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. you’ll take any little bit of comfort you can get right now, and though you’ve only met reuben a few times, the hug he pulls you into is enough to calm you, even if just barely. 

“where is everyone?” bob asks over the music, clapping his friend on the back, and reuben blinks hard. 

“i think seresin and mickey are in the basement.”

a cheer rises through the crowd as someone pushes through the doorway into the kitchen and reuben’s attention is entirely lost. he’s vaguely familiar, somehow, with the kind of honey brunet hair that makes you wonder if it’s entirely natural and a smile that’s contagious. he drops two cases of beer, stacked on top of one another, onto the already crowded island, and callie leans into you and nat. 

“who is that?”

bob laughs and nat raises a brow. you’re glad that she asked because you know him, you think. a little more selfishly, something about him naturally draws you in; he has the same undeniable charisma that you think all frat boys must possess to a certain extent. it rarely works on you, and maybe it wouldn’t work if he turned it on you, but watching him greet everyone around him, passing out beers with compliments and laughter makes you a little giddy the same way all blooming attractions do, with a turn of the stomach at the end of the realization.

“that’s brad,” bob answers. you snort, because of course, his name was brad. “bradshaw!” 

brad spins his head in your direction with a wide grin, a smile that only grows when he catches sight of bob, brows raising at the sight of him surrounded by the three of you. “hey, bobby!”

bob’s cheeks flush and for a moment, you watch him for any sign of discomfort, but he only laughs and pushes all of you toward the island. 

“y’all want a drink?” brad asks, eyes lingering on yours, and without a second thought, you nod along with your friends. 

you listen as well as you can to the conversation between the two men as brad hands bob a beer and asks callie whether she’d prefer a beer or a seltzer. she preens, asking for a beer, and he hands her one back with a polite smile. you watch him ask nat the same question, wracking your brain to figure out where you had seen him. maybe you had served him at work. it wasn’t out of the question that you might have been in a gen ed class together in your first year, but you don’t think it’s either of those. when he trains his eyes on you, you're more confused than ever because you’re sure you would have remembered someone like this.

“and for you?” he asks, voice soft despite the oppressive noise around you.

“seltzer, please,” you respond quickly. he grins at you and you hate the nervous flip of your stomach, thrilled and terrified to have his attention, to be on the receiving end of that smile. 

news of the fresh cases has spread around the house and guests are crushing into the kitchen to get their hands on a new drink before they’re gone. at first, you hadn’t minded the crowd as much as you thought you would, but now you’re overwhelmed, so you pat callie’s hand and lean in close. “i think m’gonna step outside, okay?”

she pulls back, brow creased in worry, and says, “are you okay? do you want me to come?”

and you know she will, which you appreciate, but you also know that she just caught sight of the blond that has sauntered into the kitchen—exactly her type—and you don’t want her to miss her shot. “i’m okay! i’ll be right back.”

as you force your way through the crowd, cold can in hand, you wonder why you showed up in the first place. it’s not your scene, not even a little, and you had spent the last three years avoiding places exactly like this. foolishly, you hope that maybe the crowd will thin out the later it gets, but you know that’s not really how these kinds of things work. 

the door from the kitchen to the backyard opens inward, which is a struggle when the couple behind the door only glares at you for attempting to open it. frustrated, you open your mouth to ask them to move, but a large hand from behind you reaches for the doorknob, and the man’s face softens at the sight of whoever’s behind you. 

you glance over your shoulder and there’s brad, his chest brushing against your shoulder. he smiles genially at the couple, nodding at them. “hey, man, how are you?”

you don’t listen to the response because brad twists the doorknob for you, opening the door just enough for you to slip out. you aren’t sure he does it for you, exactly, but you’re grateful either way. the october night, especially compared to the sweaty, booming house, is a welcome and refreshing change, one that nearly forces you to take a deep breath. it’s considerably less crowded outside, and you lean against the vibrating siding of the house, glancing sideways when brad slips out of the door and closes it behind him.

for a moment, he looks across the backyard like he’s looking for something, but you interrupt him when you breathe out sharply, tugging your jacket closer. finally, he turns to look at you, and his face melts into the easiest smile you’ve ever seen. you’re not conscious of the way you smile back, pleased to see him pleased, and he leans against the wall beside you.

“hi.”

you look at him, half appalled and half intrigued, because brad is handsome. even if he wasn’t, he has the kind of inherent charm that makes up for physical deficiency, and you would think that someone so handsome might have a better way to flirt than saying ‘hi.’

it occurs to you suddenly that he’s flirting. he’s flirting with you. you feel a sudden warmth creeping from the pit of your stomach, rising to your skin and making you feel a little flushed. “hi.”

he holds out a hand in a formal handshake and you can’t help yourself. you chuckle a little, allowing him to take your hand. “i’m brad.”

you purse your lips and shake his hand. “...brad.”

he tilts his head knowingly, eyes mirthful. “yes?”

with a grin at him, you pull your hand back, rocking on your heels. “that’s just such a frat boy name.”

and he laughs, so loud and warm that suddenly it feels like august, pressing his hand to his abdomen. you watch him appreciatively, endeared to the way his cheeks flush, the way his shoulders shake. his eyes are still crinkled with delight when his laughter slows and he says, “then you can call me bradley.”

your grin shines stronger. “i like bradley.” you offer your name, and he sticks a hand into his pocket. he’s cute, undeniably, and every once in a while, someone will pass by and clap him on the shoulder, greeting him with a ‘hey, man!’ or an excited call of his name. for some reason, seeing how liked he is makes you like him even more. he greets everyone back—remembers their names and everything—and the smile on his face is so genuine that it takes you aback.

bradley is easier to talk to than you had expected, not that you had expected much. he briefly talks about his mother when you ask, answers a couple of questions about what he does outside of academics, but he seems more invested in asking you any questions than offering information. you’re right in the middle of a tangent about one of your classes when you ask, “what’s your major, again?”

he thumbs the tab of his can. “biochem,” he nods, and you grin.

“me, too!” you respond eagerly, and he laughs, seeming a little bashful.

“yeah, i know,” he responds easily. “we’re in a lot of classes together, i think.” he doesn’t think, he knows, but the last thing bradley wants to do now that you’re warming up to him is come off as some weirdo who spends all his time watching you instead of his lectures. your face brightens with recognition, and he smiles softly. “i also tried—and failed—to flirt with you in the bookstore at the beginning of the semester, but…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. that was supposed to be the silent part, but part of him hopes that you might remember him, no matter how poorly he had done then. he thinks he’s doing pretty well now.

you blanch, covering your mouth with your hand, and bradley could kick himself. “oh, my god. bradley, i’m so sorry! i can’t believe i forgot about that,” you lament, and he laughs with a tinge of self-deprecation.

“i really think it’s better that you did,” he soothes, and then you giggle and all is restored. he’s back in good standing, his washout from the bookstore entirely balanced. he’s all too aware of the tiny step you take in his direction, one that he’s not sure you’ve even noticed yourself. it comforts him, lets him know that right now, you’re closer to the same page than you’ve ever been, and that alone makes his heart begin to pound.

“well, i still feel bad,” you admit, and he shrugs. 

“rejection is healthy for the ego,” he excuses.

it seems like it’s something he actually believes, which makes your chest sticky with unbridled affection. “you don’t seem like the kind of guy who experiences a lot of rejection.”

he flushes and you know you’re right, but it doesn’t annoy you. he’s nothing you would have assumed him to be; he isn’t arrogant or lewd, doesn’t push you to drink and hasn’t asked you to his room. the surprise is almost sweeter than the realization that bradley is the kind of guy you could like, silly name aside.

bradley can’t believe his luck; he hadn’t gotten you here, but someone had, and he’s thrilled. he’s grateful. he reaches for you, fingers hesitating, but he folds down the collar of your jean jacket, and he can’t contain himself when you smile at him. you’re vulnerable, open with him, and bradley can read the signs. he’s giddy, because you’re finally looking at him, laughing with him, and bradley thinks that this—you are better than any way he had ever imagined you. 

“bradley bradshaw,” you murmur, rolling your eyes playfully. “you aren’t entirely insufferable.”

he guffaws, fingers tightening around his empty beer can. he’s been out of his drink for nearly half an hour, but he can’t pull himself from you. “wow, i’m honored.”

you play it up, turning away from him to look out across the backyard. the two of you are so close that your shoulder brushes his chest, and warmth races through his body at the contact. a large hand settles in the dip of the small of your back, and you pretend that it doesn’t make you want to shiver. “you should be. i’m very hard to please.”

and bradley’s stomach flips, fingers tightening around his empty can once again. “i’m sure i could figure it out.”

a surprised laugh forces its way out of you and he snorts. “dude.”

he grins, tapping his empty can against yours. this is going well, better than he thought it would. “you want another drink?”

you look at him, a pleased smile pushing at your cheeks. “yes, please.”

he’ll give you a moment alone, in part because he really does need another drink, but mostly because if there ever were a time to work up the courage to ask you out, it would be right now. he grabs your can, flashing you a sweet smile before he slips inside. 

the second his back is turned, you can’t tamp down your smile, your ears burning. at this point, you don’t even care if he’s stringing you along. you like him. he makes you laugh, and he had been willing to admit that he had his foot in his mouth when he had approached you at the beginning of the semester. then, you had assumed the same of him that you had when you’d met again: that he was cocky, that he was a stereotypical frat boy. but now, he’s laughing at himself the same way you are, humbled and sweet.

the kitchen door opens, and you turn to greet him, but it’s nat. you smile warmly, leaning against the wall. “hey.”

“hey,” she breathes. “you’ve been out here the whole time?”

you shrug, sticking your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “yeah. you guys having fun?”

nat rolls her eyes with a huff. “yeah, about that. we gotta get callie home.”

worry washes over you, forcing out the lovesick warmth that had overtaken you and leaving you with a bitter chill. “what happened?”

she shakes her head, the toe of her boot rubbing out a cigarette butt someone has thrown on the back porch. “she got into a pissing contest with that guy she was flirting with,” nat grunts. “you know how she is. anyway, she’s in the backseat.”

and you shouldn’t be surprised, because yeah, you know callie. she can’t let a challenge go, and you’re amazed it hasn’t given her alcohol poisoning yet. taking care of her while drunk is like second nature after so many years of friendship, and you had figured that the night would end like this, anyway. but you hadn’t anticipated bradley. you want to take care of your best friend, but you don’t want to leave behind the lovely flush that bradley has given you.

nat notices your pause and frowns. “you okay?” you step to the side and peek into the window. bradley stands, pretty and flushed in the kitchen, his beer in one hand and a different flavor of your seltzer in another. god, you don’t want to leave him behind. you want to stay, soaking up his warmth, his attention, and you want to kiss him, and maybe you want to spend the night with him. you watch him laugh in the kitchen, goading one of the other party guests, his charisma radiating even through the window. everyone around him laughs, smiles up at him, falls into his encouragement to keep drinking, keep having fun, and you recognize the look on their faces. it’s the look that you’ve been wearing for the last hour talking to him.

you sigh and turn back to nat. “yeah, m’good. let’s get her home.”

your friend hesitates, but you smile and nod. bradley charms everyone around him; you’re sure that you’re no different. he has everyone falling at his feet. he makes people feel special; it’s the kind of guy he is, and you like that about him, but that’s all it is. 

you let nat drag you through the side yard and around the front to bob’s car, and you try not to let yourself think about bradley on the ride home.

bradley, still laughing at javy’s insistence on body shots, slips out the backdoor, can in each hand. the crowd pushes the door closed behind him, and his belly is still flipping when he turns to where you should be. where you were. he frowns, confused, and he hates the way his stomach swoops when he looks across the yard and can’t see you. tucking his beer in the crook of his elbow, he shoves his way back into the kitchen.

“reub!” he calls over the noise, and his friend beams at him. “where’s bob?”

reuben, drunk and thrilled, responds, “man, he just left!”

a sinking realization makes bradley wilt, his shoulders dropping, and bradley knows that you’re gone, too.

callie glares unhappily at the glass bob has set before her. “i’m literally going to puke.”

he gives her a look, unimpressed with her dramatics. “it goes down smoother than you’d think.”

“does it come up smooth, too?”

you don’t blame her, really. you had never tasted bob’s hangover cure, but it looks exactly like what you cleaned out of his backseat last night. no, you wouldn’t want any part of it, either, but he swore by it. nat drops a straw in the thick mixture, and callie groans but begins drinking it obediently.

“so,” nat starts, sitting across from you at the table. “how was your night?”

you feel your cheeks warm but you shrug casually, resting your chin on your water bottle. “fine. how was yours?”

“you disappeared,” she responds, ignoring your question, and you roll your eyes goodnaturedly.

“i did not ‘disappear.’ i was exactly where i said i was all night.”

nat narrows her eyes at you, and when you look at bob, you see his lips quirked in the tiniest smile. “brad followed you out,” he notes, and you stare back at him, trying to keep your face blank.

you don’t want to feel giddy about bradley, not when you know he was just being nice. the last thing you want to do is give bob any indication that bradley has gotten under your skin; you know bob. you love bob, but he’s observant, and though he would never tell a secret on purpose, you know better than anyone that sometimes the truth just slips out of him. “he did.”

callie perks up a little, straw still in her mouth when she asks, “you and brad?”

“no,” you insist. “we just talked for a few minutes.”

nat smirks, leaning onto her elbows. “did you like him?”

“he was nice.”

“that’s not what i asked,” she pushes, and you huff.

you want to hold it close to your chest. it’s embarrassing to admit that you had allowed bradley to make you feel so special, that he had wooed you without even trying. but the idea of lying to your best friends makes you sweat a little. natasha would find out anyway, and then you’d be in for it. “i mean…yeah, i guess.”

“that’s a yes,” bob celebrates, and you frown. 

your best friends share a pleased look and you harrumph. “what does it matter, anyway? he’s just some…random frat guy. probably would end up being an asshole, anyway.”

bob shakes his head, filling one of your mugs with coffee for himself. “nah, brad’s cool. he’s nice.”

you level a glare at bob. “regardless. the last thing i need right now is to develop feelings for some guy that everyone else is already in love with.” and bob doesn’t argue, doesn’t deny the fact that bradley has everyone falling at his feet. you shrug, taking a sip of your water. “he’s cool, i guess. but i don’t have time for that.”

callie wrinkles her nose in your direction, clearly a little annoyed. “but you like him.”

you purse your lips. “so?”

she sighs, holding her cup of sludge with both hands as she leans back into her seat. “tell him.” it’s such a callie thing to say. she had never second-guessed herself. she had never needed to. but you weren’t callie. you weren’t perfect, reliable callie. such confidence had never come to you the way it has to her. if you were callie, the kind of person that people were drawn to—the same way they were drawn to bradley—you might tell him. but you weren’t. you were just you.

you lean back into your chair, avoiding your friends’ eyes, and for a minute, you pretend that you are like callie, and it’s a comforting thought.

similarly, bradley and mickey look at each other across the kitchen island. “so…you didn’t kiss her.”

“no,” bradley says, tired.

“and you didn’t ask her out?”

“no.”

mickey looks at him, head tilted curiously. “but why?”

“because she left, you idiot,” javy rolls his eyes. “you aren’t even listening.”

“i am!” he insists, glaring at javy. “i just don’t understand. brad, you’re the clincher.” 

bradley has been running over the events of the night before until he can’t hold it in anymore. he had hoped his roommates would be helpful, but javy is disinterested, mickey is entirely unhelpful, and jake had shuffled away five minutes into the conversation to fall asleep on the couch. “i don’t know, man, i thought it was going great. she seemed like she was interested, you know? 

mickey shrugs. “whatever, dude. you said you have some classes together? just catch her on campus and ask her out.”

“mickey, did it ever occur to you that she left because she didn’t like me?” bradley stresses, and his roommate rolls his eyes. 

“bradley, have you ever considered that you only like this girl because she's the first one who doesn’t like you?”

bradley sits with this for a moment. he had an ego, that was for sure, and he had chased a lot of girls who didn’t want him just to change their minds. the thrill was always in the chase. at least, it had been, because the longer bradley thinks about it, the more he thinks that he had found just as much thrill watching you across lecture halls as he ever had chasing other girls. he had been just as eager to get you a drink and make you laugh as he had to take other girls to bed. everything is heightened with you. no, the thrill wasn’t in chasing you. this had gone on so much longer than that. long before he ever found out that you had no interest in him.

“no,” bradley decides. “no, man, it’s not like that. i really like her.”

mickey shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “okay, then tell her. what’s the worst that can happen?”

you avoid looking at bradley throughout class. right as it had begun, you had made the mistake of searching for him, and the second that you laid eyes on him, it felt like a burn. over the weekend, you had come to terms with the fact that yeah, you did like bradley. that didn’t mean you had to like it. you would put your head down, get through the semester, and pray that you didn’t have any classes together next semester. and that’s fine. it’s fine. 

your notes, like your thoughts, are scrambled. they barely make sense to you, and when callie glances in your direction, her face twists at the sight of your notebook. “dude, what the fuck?”

“stop,” you insist, trying to hide the way your shoulders shake in a laugh. “it’s functional.”

“bro, it’s incomprehensible.”

“fuck off,” you laugh, elbowing her. 

she giggles, pressing a hand to her chest. you’re grateful when your professor releases class early, because callie’s jeering is getting a little too close to heckling for your taste. she can’t control her volume, this you know, and usually it’s fine, but more than usual, you’re trying to fly under the radar today.

you both shrug on your coats, pack your bags, and slip from the lecture hall. you think you’re in the clear, that you’ve successfully avoided bradley, who exited on the opposite side of the lecture hall, not that you were looking. but you hear your name from only a few feet behind just as you and callie reach the external doors. it’s far enough away, crowded enough in the rush of your classmates that you might be able to pretend you didn’t hear it, but he calls you again and you know that the guilt will haunt you if you don’t at least say hi.

your best friend grins when you turn and offer bradley a tight smile. “hey, bradley.”

“hey,” he breathes, and you hate him because he’s so much cuter in daylight than he ever was under the porch light of the frat house. it makes you sick. “i’m glad i caught up to you. can we talk?”

your inner monologue screeches to a halt and starts shrieking, but you nod and turn to callie. “i’ll catch up?”

she smirks at the two of you. “i won’t hold my breath.”

“callie,” you hiss, but bradley laughs and you feel—despite your embarrassment—that her comment is hopeful, not teasing. 

she waves goodbye and heads on her way. you and bradley, standing against the late autumn chill, stand in silence for only a beat before he says, “i lost you at the party.”

your lips twist in a way that’s unbearably endearing to him and you hook your thumb over your shoulder. “callie got sick, we had to take her home.”

bradley grins, looking after her. “oh, that callie.” you look at him, half-suspicious, but you have an almost knowing smile growing on your face. “my roommate hasn’t stopped talking about her since friday.”

“jake?” you hazard a guess, and bradley nods. a contemplative sigh fills the space between you before you say, “yeah, trust me. we’ve heard a lot about him, too.”

you expect some banter, at least, about his roommate. from what callie has told you, you’re certain that bradley has some stories to share about him, or at least a funny quip, but he’s got a one track mind. “um…right. well, i would have liked to…say bye.”

for a long moment, the two of you look at one another in silence. you get the sense that bradley doesn’t spend a great deal of time being vulnerable like this, even if he’s just giving you the barest hint of what happens underneath, and you have to wonder: why is he sharing this with you? what is he doing? 

“no, yeah. you just looked like you were having fun inside, i didn’t think you’d really notice.” and god, you hate how pathetic that sounds, and you hate the way his shoulders deflate, and you hate the way you’re butchering this right now. “i just didn’t want to bother you, was all.” 

“you wouldn’t have bothered me,” he responds immediately. 

he’s so cute that looking at him hurts, and you feel that pressure build up in your chest, packed so tightly that you have to say something. “bradley—”

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice sweet and a little scratchy. he holds eye contact so firmly that it almost makes you shiver, both of you ignoring the other students around you. “i’m sorry if i was too pushy, or if i made you uncomfortable.”

“you didn’t,” you assure. “you weren’t. not at all.” he nods once.

bradley feels like the earth could swallow him right now and it could only help the situation. he’s embarrassed, but he tries not to show it. after mickey’s rare moment of mental clarity, bradley knows that now is the moment. he’d missed his chance before. fumbled his opportunity already. he didn’t want to do that again. “listen…i’ve been watching you across classrooms for like, four semesters. i think you’re really pretty,” he admits, voice steady despite the increasing flush on his cheeks. “and you’re funny and interesting and smart and i want to get to know you, because i really like you.” you blanch, mouth parted in the cutest little o he’s ever seen. “if you aren’t interested, i get it. we can just be friends.”

you pause, taking a moment to process his words when he cuts in again.

“or if you don’t want to be friends, you can totally tell me to fuck off and i will literally never bother you again,” he rambles, nodding decisively.

and it happens at the worst time, really. this is not the time to start giggling, but you can’t help yourself. you’re a little giddy and a little entertained, but mostly you’re caught up in him. caught up in the way this boy you haven’t stopped thinking about for the last three days has, apparently, spent the last two years admiring you. this sweet boy, who makes you laugh and makes you think, who makes you feel special and interesting and wanted. 

“bradley, you don’t get rejected a lot, do you?”

bradley’s lips pucker, trying to hide his nerves from you. whatever you had to say, he wanted to hear it. no matter what. “no, i don't.”

you take a step toward him, grateful for the heat that rolls off his body, and you smile at him softly. “well, best not to break your record, then.”

bradley bradshaw isn’t the type to pine. until he is. 

and it’s worth every second.

[thebettybook]

“Unca” Leona

—————————-🧸-—————————

About: Fluff headcanons/mini fic of Leona learning to be an uncle to Cheka over the five years since Cheka was born

Warnings: None, this is a fluff post about family :)

—————————-🧸-—————————

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, that fact was established when his nephew Cheka was born.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids; they needed constant attention. For the first few months after Cheka was born, the entire Afterglow Savannah palace was in a frenzy. On the bright side, that meant less eyes on Leona and he could slip away and just drive out to anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, they still needed constant attention. When Cheka turned six months old, the cub began crawling everywhere. Safiya (Cheka’s mother and Leona’s sister-in-law) started implementing days where Leona would have to spend time with Cheka as his “uncle,” a title begrudgingly thrust onto Leona by fate. Despite Leona’s best efforts to get out of playing with the cub, the cub stuck to his side like glue.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, they were messy. This one in particular liked to drool on Leona’s book pages as Leona read books about ancient languages while having baby Cheka in his lap. Said baby also loved to nibble on Leona’s hair and barf on Leona’s shirt and giggle afterwards.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, especially as they began to learn how to talk and walk. Fast forward to a year or two later, he now had a toddler on his hands who affectionately crowned him with the title “Unca.” Leona didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he was known throughout the whole country as “the second prince,” or the fact that he was now known in his own home as “Unca Leona.”

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, they tended to watch the same shows over and over again and make you watch the shows with them. Leona, even with his ever-sharp memory, lost count of how many times he had to watch a show about singing and dancing vegetables with Cheka. The horror.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, they tended to bug you at every hour of the day. Cheka developed a habit of waking Leona up every day, usually running into Leona’s room every morning to jump onto Leona and wake him up. Sometimes, Leona would even get startled when he woke up and found the little furball asleep next to him. Leona now didn’t remember a time where the cub wasn’t by his side at most hours of the day.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, they liked to spread their germs all over the place. Leona had caught a slight cold that Cheka had a few days ago. Leona grumpily took a nap on a chaise lounge as the cub sat on the floor a few feet away, watching a new episode from the show about singing vegetables. When Leona woke up, Cheka was nowhere in sight. The cub was probably off doing a singing lesson with the Kingscholar family’s Grand Chamberlain, Kifaji. Leona then noticed his nephew’s favorite tiny light-blue blanket strewn haphazardly over his figure. He sat up and then noticed a note on top of the blanket. Written messily in crayon and surrounded by flower and sun doodles, the note read: “Get well soon, Unca!”.

Sigh.

🧸 Leona didn’t like kids, but maybe…just maybe…he didn’t completely dislike this one.

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Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Leona romance fluff? Check out my masterlist

—————————-🧸-—————————

[gentrychild]

Hey Gentry,for the Au game Endeavour offers Izuku an internship after the sports festival! You're awesome love your work!!

1 - After Shouto catches on fire during the Sport Festival, starts to use his flames again and is doodling hearts in his notebook, Endeavor subtly tries to ask him about the green-haired-boy who told him he wasn't shit five seconds after meeting him. Todoroki reacts like a feral cat someone just threw water at. Endeavor, trained investigator that he is, starts to suspect that his youngest son might have a tiny crush. So, in order to investigate, he sends an internship offer to All Might's secret lovechild.

2 - Shouto, who is spying on his father's laptop because he doesn't trust him one bit, sees it and runs to UA to warn Midoriya that Endeavor's internship offer is a trap and not to accept it (though he will forgot to mention some details, such as why Endeavor wants him on an internship). Unfortunately, since it was the only internship Midoriya got (All Might arrived a little later with Gran Torino's), he had already accepted it.

3 - When Midoriya arrives to the internship, Endeavor grills him with a thousand of questions about his family, his life, and so on. Izuku answers exactly two of them, all related to the internship, and informs Endeavor that the rest is personal. It's said on such a cold tone that the spy in the Endeavor agency hallucinates All for One for a moment.

4 - Todoroki spends the entire internship putting himself between Midoriya and his dad and just acting like a madman. It's hilarious. All the agency is rooting for him to confess to his crush.

5 - Izuku is actually here to work and asks a thousand questions to Endeavor, who realizes that he is a very late bloomer who doesn't know how to use his quirk. His snooping around in Shouto's romantic life is interrupted by some pretty violent Touya flashbacks and he trains Izuku with his quirk. Izuku is delighted that he doesn't have to break his bones anymore.

6 - Izuku has noticed that Endeavor and Todoroki are acting like mad men but is completely oblivious to the crush. Instead, he thinks Endeavor is trying to find out that if he is All Might's secret lovechild or something.

7 - Stain doesn't appear during the internship arc because he tripped on a lego and into some very high stairs, breaking his two legs. Iida doesn't find him. Also, Tomura gets a cold so he doesn't sic noumus on Hosu.

8 - Endeavor realizes that he likes having an intern who doesn't despise him and Shouto is staying aroundd when Midoriya is here, which is the closest thing he got to father-son bonding time so he tries to get him for the second internship. However, Gran Torino was depribed from his own grandfather-grandson bonding time and bribes Izuku with exclusive Young Might stories and pictures.

[kweldas]

«Just because I'm an Oberstleutnant doesn't mean I know what the hell is going on».

⇀ Wolfric Ehlers. Abhors any abbreviation of his given name, such as "Wulf," "Wolfe," or other derivatives.

⇀ Forty-five years. Holder of the Latent soul.

⇀ Wolfric embodies old-world values, instilled with a sense of duty from youth. He adheres to traditions until they become inconvenient. A meticulous and organized leader, he brooks emotion in favor of logic and action. His steadfast principles and rigid beliefs make him a formidable figure, demanding professionalism and unwavering loyalty from his followers. Only with close friends and family does he occasionally display a gentler side. Otherwise, Wolfric appears weary and has little interest in frivolous pursuits. Personality type: ESTJ.

The Ehlers family tree (excluding numerous Wolfric's nephews and cousins) to understand what their lineage represents. Those relatives who kept their titles in their names passed away before the fall of the nobility in Bremen.

⇀ Born into Bremen's military aristocracy on August 25, 1897, Wolfric embarked on an army career at a young age. He studied at a prestigious officer cadet school, completing his training with distinction just as the Great War erupted, — the same place where he put his learned skills to brutal use, — and as a result, emerged from the carnage as a decorated Leutenant.

When the conflict paved the way for a new candidate in the political arena, sensing the shift in power and despite initial personal dislike, Siegfried saw advantage and instructed Wolfric to align with the emerging clout of Kaiser, a move aimed at securing the family's position.

That same year, 1919, Ehlers married his wife, Frauke Teufel.

When a populist uprising in Bremen toppled the monarchy and nobility, the Von Ehlers lost their titles and most of their property but kept their lives. Wolfric continued his military career, becoming Hauptmann in 1926 and Major in 1930.

With the beginning of the Second Great War, he was promoted to Oberstleutnant. Wolfric protected his eldest son, Ulfric, from combat by using his connections to send the lad away.

More about it.

Wolfric accepted the invitation to join the Elite Imperial Troops in 1941 and participated in the Bohemian Campaign the following year.

Character height headcanons.

The attitude towards the contestants (and, as a bonus, the representatives of Bremen).

Wolfric is not inclined to trust anyone in Prehevil and certainly does not want to allow strangers near him; therefore, he judges (excluding Karin and Olivia, about whom he already has his own formed opinion) solely based on appearance and the first impression they make of him from the outside. Despite his negative feelings towards the Sylvian trooper or the Kaiser, Wolfric does not confront them, which cannot be said about Pav, whom he will at best regard with great suspicion and under any pretext will throw out of the city or engage in direct conflict with further escalation.

Wolfric about O'saa. ...about Karin. ...about Levi. ...about Kaiser (part 1, part 2, part 3).

Battle dialogues in the White Bunker.

Doodles, arts, etc.

«Dear troops, please remember to shine your boots, salute the Kaiser, and avoid eye contact».

[raccoonfallsharder]

fanfiction masterlist i guess ♡

*this masterlist is OLD! find the new masterlist here

here's what you need to know about what is behind this cut: lots of smut, always with feelings and fluff, praise kinks, dirty talk, maybe some light d/s, enthusiastic consent. a few clean headcanons/minifics & fan art of your amazing OCs

(it's all rocket raccoon, all the time) also, please let me love your OCs (doodle requests temporarily paused)

If you would like to be added to the fanfiction update taglist (or removed), please let me know via comment, message, or ask! ♡

recently updated

headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) [ONESHOT. added 9/18] Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24] florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. [WIP 9/27] Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5] Window Across the Galaxy

I can't keep up with updating my kinktober prompts on a daily basis (I'm honestly amazed I've managed to keep up with the writing as well as I have and I've only been doing this for a few days) So for now, please find them with the tag #rfh kinktober and when the month is over I'll make a masterlist. [NEW all month] based on @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List

[complete works behind the cut ♡]

spoilers: I have a preferred trope/formula that I lean into quite hard (girl falls first; raccoon falls harder) and while I do really love tragic fanfic, I firmly believe rocket's suffered enough of that so it's only happy endings here (even if it takes a minute to get there). Well, more or less, anyway.

Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

reader x rocket fluff, medium-burn?? (at least for Part One), smut. comics-based but you don't need any comics background knowledge to read this - you just need to enjoy fluff + smut + rocket (and be 18 i guess). multiple parts. see notes for summary + warnings.

The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl Part One of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [COMPLETE 5/5 chapters] Summary: In Rocket Raccoon: Grounded (2016) / Issue #3, Rocket asks a stranger on the ferry to "make sure nobody does anything weird" to him while he naps, and the stranger just, like, abandons him while he's sleeping?? get in loser we're gonna fix it Chapter One (The First Visit) Chapter Two (The Second Visit) Chapter Three (The Third Visit) Chapter Four (The Fourth Visit) Chapter Five (The Fifth Visit) complete post - The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl

Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training (Ninth Visit) Part Two of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 8/21] Sequel to The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl [domestic fluff, dirty talk, oral sex - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Study Night. or - why study when you can seduce your hot local Space Pilot into oral? When you were a kid, you imagined yourself growing up, working a cool job, living in a cute house, getting a big dog, marrying, and having kids of your own. You've currently got none of those things, but you are getting regularly railed by a raccoon-shaped cosmic adventurer, and he's currently showing you around his spaceship. Which is kinda better than anything you could have dreamed up for yourself. [comics-inspired, though i'm fucking around with timelines/continuity and you really don't need any comics-context to ride this ride] complete post - Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/18] [domestic fluff, dirty talk, orgasm delay, bf/gf silliness. - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Date Night. in a gesture of true romance, rocket takes you to a dive bar. of all the stories he's shared with you, his favorites are the ones where he gets saved by the space princess. not that he'd tell you that. ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽︎ loosely based on Rocket (2017): The Blue River Score. domestic bf/gf silliness & fluff. extensive smut. comics-knowledge isn't needed but HIGHLY recommend starting at the beginning of this collection for context (The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl).

florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

[WIP: Year 0/5] [mcu-based, slight au, medium-burn, eventual smut circa chapter four. tentative allies to friends to lovers. the middle is angsty but there are only happy endings here. no use of y/n.] Summary: “The only chance we got is to get to the other side of the universe as fast as we can and maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to live full lives before that whack-job ever gets there.” Rocket & Groot leave their friends behind on Knowhere, despite the latter’s protests, and end up hiding out on a nothing-planet (with a non-extradition policy) at the edge of the Shi’ar Galaxy. It was the flowers that drew you in.

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24]

Blackmail Material

[WIP: Chapter 2/4] reader x rocket pwp with feelings; smut & fluff & love confessions. MCU-based, post-Endgame, friends-to-lovers. Summary: a classic tale of "this fuckin raccoon found your sex-toy." as per usual: girl falls first; raccoon falls harder. see notes for summary + warnings.

Chapter One: Blackmail Material Chapter Two: Self-Sufficience [NEW posted 8/29] Chapter Three: Firearms over Flowers ???

Window Across the Galaxy

[WIP: Chapter 15/25+] [NEW chapter posted 10/5] rocket x oc angst/hurt/comfort; slow burn + eventual smut with feelings. MCU-based. slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1. enemies to friends to lovers but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies. see notes for summary + warnings. could become 1 part of a 2-part series, if I have the energy/inspiration. Summary: Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness.in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Chapter VII. I'm Here.in which we visit Knowhere. Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets.in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.” Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking. Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way. Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost. Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes. Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm. Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5]

Autopilot Systems Check [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/3/2023] Est Word Count: 1409 reader x rocket soft fluff & domestica. MCU-based, post-Endgame i guess. Summary: reader wakes up in the middle of the night and rocket is nowhere to be found. drabble based on this post/inadvertent prompt.[complete post - Autopilot Systems Check]

Kinktober 2023

based on day 8 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List Kinktober Day 8: Turbulence. rocket needs you to hold. flarkin. still. [NEW 10/8]

Other Duties As Assigned

[WIP: ???] rocket x oc email romance/LDR (lol); slow burn + probable smut with feelings. Begins five months after The Snap. I don't have an intended outcome for this fic yet (just kind of rambling around) so this has the most uncertain publishing date. Summary: Natasha Romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the Milano. First she demands that the remaining two Guardians of the Galaxy be reachable via a primitive Terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails. Thank fuck she's hired a new assistant.

Headcannons & Drabbles headcanon 1 - rocket & sex work headcanon 2 - rocket & occassional post-sex feelings headcanon 3 - quill & innocence/optimism headcanon 4 (minific/drabble) - rocket & nebula (2014) in endgame/post time-heist headcanon 5 (minific/drabble) - rocket & quill were scooped at the same time headcanon 6 - cinnamon roll peter quill continued headcanon 7 - rocket & nova corps headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Fan Art of Your Amazing OCs (and maybe sometimes mine)

Rose (@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr ) & Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you for letting me draw these two lovelies. You know I headcanon them as interdimensional besties ♡

Brita (@pretty-chips) is such a pure, delightfully fun character with record-store-clerk vibes. Thank you for letting me draw her. She is a glowing sunbeam-soul. ♡ another Brita wearing a terran t-shirt gifted to her by my oc, Jolie Spinner

Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you again for letting me illustrate some of Moon's rad powers. i am OBSESSED. I appreciate so much you bringing her to life!

Chérie (Cherry) (@aliasrocket) I have a crush. 10/10 would attempt to flirt with (badly). Thank you so much for creating her and letting me doodle her!

Jolie (Window Across the Galaxy) - my gremlin child. just some scritchy-scratchy character concepts. feel free not to look if you want to imagine Jo in your own way. ♡ the "real" Jolie doodle - refined, finished, && in color

Fleuret (I think?) (@elegant-fleuret) is my personal caffeine deity. i now pray to her for the ability to scrap myself out of bed and deliverance from coffee crashes. she is also the dj of knowhere which is possibly the coolest fucking job in the universe and i would like to be her friend.

Star (@cleo-is-babygirl) is a pure fluffy little sundrop and a brilliant self-taught medic/surgeon. she is also the first tanuki/anthropomorphic animal i have drawn other than rocket so i was very nervous but i did my best. thank you for letting me try something new and expand my experience, friend!

Juno (@lazarel-3000) is one of my favorite OCs ever. she is everything. i want to be her && i want to date her (unfortunately she only has eyes for rocket).

[in-need-of-gally-content]

|Chapter•Thirty|

•|Masterlist|•

With the sun rising and being greeted with a new day, pretty much no one wanted to get up from bed. Losing a Glader was always tough, even if they didn't get along with whom they lost, it wasn't easy to accept one of them was gone.

Everything was quiet, eerily so and it felt suffocating. It would be this way for a while, just until everyone learns how to live without them.

In the treehouse, was Gally, a deep frown on his face as he squirmed around, gripping the pillow tighter, his breathing was ragged and he began mumbling slurred words every second, "No, no..." His whole body shifted and his jaw clenched, "(M/n)...!" He gasped, jolting up awake.

For a moment, he thought what had happened the day before was all a bad dream, and that he would wake up in his room, on his bed, and (M/n) was safe and sound in his treehouse... But no. It wasn't a dream.

He sat from the lying position he found himself in after falling asleep crying, and clutched (M/n)'s pillow close to him, almost letting himself cry again, but he couldn't, his eyes were irritated and most likely swollen, hurting from all the crying he had done during the night.

Gally took a few deep breaths until he calmed down, and put the pillow down, fixed (M/n)'s sheets on his mattress and stood up, looking around the room and spotting the wooden bear he had carved and given to him, it was sitting on top of his bookshelf, next to the lamp and his journal.

The cover was filled with both of their doodles by now, (M/n) would draw something small and then Gally would add to it and viceversa, it was like a silent game they agreed to. Like that time when Gally drew a cat sleeping and (M/n) made it so their tail formed a heart under them.

His fingers graced the cover, specifically where (M/n) had written his name next to a bean drawing. Gally had to take another deep breath when his eyes felt that known stinging pain, and he stepped away from the bookshelf, turning to the door to leave the room.

When he made it to the bottom of the ladder, he heard Bark's crying, whining to get his attention. Gally saw him walk out of his house and bump his head against his leg, he reached down to pet him, "We're gonna find him... We will."

Together, they made their way to the Doors, they were still closed, but there were roughly thirty to twenty minutes before they opened. Gally was set on going out there and finding (M/n), even if that meant breaking the rules and going all by himself. Worst case, he will have the same end as (M/n) did.

And to Gally, dying while looking for him was better than living the rest of his life without him. He couldn't even imagine how life would be if (M/n) wasn't next to him every day. He brought so much light to his life in the Glade, and now he wasn't able to function without him around.

He and Bark sat in front of the Maze Doors, together, supporting each other with their presence, and slowly, minute after minute, another Glader would come and stay, and another one of (M/n)'s friends would come and wait. Gally was growing impatient with all the waiting they had to do, it almost felt as if time had completely stopped, as it was mocking him and trying to get Gally to lose his mind.

At some point, with almost five minutes left of wait, Gally stood up and started pacing back and forth, nibbling his bottom lip or biting his nails, messing with his hair with anxiety. He took deep breaths to try and remain calm, but it was almost useless.

Until he spotted Minho from afar approaching, "Alby gave us permission to look for (M/n)," Gally looked far off into the Glade, and saw Alby standing in front of the Homestead, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He nodded at him as a thank you, and turned back to the rest.

"We'll find him... Even if it takes us all day." Everyone around nodded at Gally's words, the least they could do was find (M/n)... Or whatever was left of him.

Minho checked the time and signalled with his head at the Doors, "It's time."

Right after he spoke, the Doors made their usual sound as they opened, gears turning and the wind coming out made them look away or cover their eyes. Gally kept his eyes locked ahead, lowering his arm as the wind began to ease and, right on the other side, as the Doors were open halfway, they saw him.

Gally stared surprised, his lips parting open as he felt like his soul returned to his body. "(M/n)..." He was there, sitting up against the wall opposite from them, directly across. Without wasting a second, Gally ran into the Maze, followed by Minho.

"Chuck, get the meds!" Mikah told the greenie as he ran after both Keepers. Chuck didn't have time to reply, he just ran back into the Homestead, and began calling Clint's name frantically.

"They found (M/n)!"

When Gally, Minho and Mikah stopped by (M/n)'s side, they saw how badly he was shaking, his skin covered in sweat.

"(M/n)... (M/n)... Wake up, please, bean," Gally mumbled over and over as he held his face in his hands, he was breathing, although every exhale was rapid and shaky. Minho noticed the blood stain on his shirt and slipped his fingers into the holes of it, ripping it open more to see where was the bleeding coming from and if the wound was too deep or big.

"Shuck-" he put pressure on it when he saw how much he was actually bleeding, and he thought it was a miracle he was still alive with all the blood he had lost. He noticed the very faint but marked blue veins going up his neck, so he looked around frantically, trying to find the spot where the mark was, and he found it, "Mikah, lift his pants."

Gally looked at Minho confused and then at Mikah, who gripped (M/n)'s pants and pulled the leg of his pants up. They looked at it and then at each other, (M/n) got stung.

"Well, that explains the shaking and breathing," Mikah mumbled while Minho reached to rip the fabric of (M/n)'s pants, tying it around his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Gally lifted (M/n)'s arm and wrapped it around his shoulders while reaching behind him to hold his waist, and Minho did the same once he was done.

"Okay, we'll get him up on three... One, two, three!" They stood up with a groan and Mikah began walking backwards ahead of them, just to make sure they wouldn't trip or fall.

"Guys, I brought the meds!" They heard Chuck's voice as they approached, followed by footsteps on the dirt and grass.

The three of them walked back into the Glade, and Clint and Jeff rushed to them.

"Set him down," they did, and Clint noticed the hole on (M/n)'s leg, marked veins coloured blue and black making their way around it, going in every direction, "We need the serum..." He looked at Minho, and the Keeper knew what to do.

"He has a really bad wound on his shoulder, you might want to check that first, Clint..." Minho said before he got up and ran to the Homestead. The serum was kept in a crate, in the basement, and never in his life had he hated undoing those damn knots as much as he did now.

Jeff untied the cloth Minho had wrapped around him and lifted it slightly, before covering it up again, "He's bleeding a lot, and I don't see the wound but he might need stitches."

Clint nodded and reached his hands under (M/n)'s trembling body, "We have to get him inside," everyone around crouched to help, "Alright, let's go," they stood up, taking (M/n) with them and rushed their way to the med room.

All the Gladers that were waking up from the commotion, saw the same guy that ran into the Maze, who they thought had died. They were carrying (M/n) inside, and a few felt tears of relief gathering in their eyes.

"Free the table, Chuck," the greenie nodded and took the journals and boxes off the table, putting them on the bed next to it, and they entered through the open door, placing (M/n) down on the table, "On his side," Clint turned his body so it would be lying on his good shoulder, "Jeff-"

"Here," Clint got handed what he needed and placed the deep bowl on one of the free spaces on the table.

He proceeded to lift the blood-stained cloth, "Shuck..." He cursed to himself as the blood kept coming out, almost unable to see the wound, but it was pretty bad, "Jeff put pressure on that, Gally sit him up, I need to get stuff ready," he turned around and stared at everyone in the room and waiting outside, "I need you guys to leave," reluctantly they did, and he saw Minho coming with the serum in his hand, "Inject him, I'll be right back."

Minho took a deep breath and approached the table where (M/n) was, gripping the syringe tightly before reaching down and injecting the bright blue liquid into his blood.

(M/n)'s body tensed and shook even more at the burning of the serum, his eyes moved rapidly behind his closed eyelids as his body fought the Changing, hissing and grunting in pain, but they just had to hold him still for a few seconds, before he calmed down, and the veins began to disappear. At least, the trembling was gone now.

Clint came back in wearing a new shirt, a short-sleeved instead of the long one he had been wearing, washed hands and a bag across his chest.

"Is he still bleeding?" Jeff didn't have to look to know, the blood had soaked through the new and clean cloth he had grabbed, "Alright, Minho take Jeff's place, and you wash your hands and get ready, we're gonna have to suture his wound."

///////

After cleaning the wound with water to get rid of dirt, debris or anything that could cause infection, Clint and Jeff got to work. Jeff prepared the needle and thread while Clint stitched him up, Gally was in charge of holding (M/n) still and keeping his head in place, while Minho cleaned any blood around it when needed.

And after a while, they were done.

"Minho, can you fix the bed?" Jeff asked while he finished wrapping the bandages around (M/n)'s shoulder and chest, they had to cut his shirt to be able to get the bandages secure, but he was still dressed, the shirt no longer had sleeves tho. And of course, they made sure to not cut the straps of his sports bra, just slightly pulled it down and let it hang around his bicep.

Minho nodded and walked toward the nearest bed, taking everything off of it and dusting it to the best of his abilities.

Gally hadn't said a word, he just stared at (M/n), lost in his own little world.

"Gally..." He blinked and looked up, Clint had tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and was trying to smile at him, "Would you help us get (M/n) on the bed?"

He nodded a few times, "Yeah... Yeah, of course."

They picked him up and carefully placed him down on the bed. So far, (M/n) hadn't put up a fight despite being stung, others would usually need to be tied up, but his body had reacted quickly to the serum, so there was no need to tie him to the bed.

"Okay, I'll let everyone know he's doing well," Jeff walked toward the door and opened it. He saw a few of the Builders, (M/n)'s friends. Alec, Doug and Kurt were sitting on the couches accompanying Mikah, Chuck and Fry.

Seeing them waiting patiently for them to come out, just to hear anything about (M/n) almost moved Jeff to tears, but he held them back, especially when all heads turned to him at the sound of the door opening.

"He's still passed out, but... You can come in and see him," one by one, they stood up and walked, looking at (M/n), who had been covered by the sheets, his breath ragged and rapid.

Gally was wiping the sweat off his face and holding his hand, he was holding back his tears, that much was obvious, he blinked quite a lot and gulped often as he tried to get rid of the knot in his throat, "It might take him a while to wake up, but he will, he's strong," Clint added as he walked out, followed by Jeff.

Stillness engulfed the med room, no one dared say anything as they watched Gally moving (M/n)'s hair back, which had been sticking to his skin due to his sweat, and they saw how the frown on his brow faded at the feeling of Gally's touch.

Gally hated seeing (M/n) having bad dreams, and he hated that couldn't do anything to shoo them away, they had to leave on their own. Nobody dared say anything, they sat where they could, on the couch or the two other empty beds.

And because of the silence in the room, Winston found it hard to speak when he stopped by.

"Uh... Alby called a Gathering... He said is important," Minho, Fry and Gally lifted their sight and looked at Winston, sighing deeply and standing up, walking to the door. Gally wanted to refuse but he knew better, Alby knew how much he needed to stay with (M/n), and he still called a Gathering, it had to be a matter of life or death.

"Take care of him, guys..." They nodded and watched as the Keepers left.

They walked to the Gathering room, and saw all the Keepers already there, sitting on their chairs while Alby and Newt waited for them standing.

Gally made brief eye contact with Stan, who immediately looked away. He almost didn't recognize him with how swollen and purple his face looked, but it was him, the asshole aura won't ever leave him.

"Now we can start," with everyone sitting on their chairs, Alby stood proud in his place, looking at everyone with a serious expression, "Before we make our decisions about what to do, you'll have to hear... The truth about what really happened."

Alby looked at Clint, who stood up from his chair, "All that we saw yesterday, the wounds Peter had... Were fake."

Looks were exchanged between the Keepers, except Gally who kept his sight locked on Stan, making him shift in place, uncomfortable and scared.

"But the blood...?"

Clint shook his head, "I don't know where they got the blood, but there were no cuts, or even scratches, anywhere on his body," silently, Winston raised his hand to speak, and was given permission by Alby with a nod.

"I noticed the Blood House was missing a bucket of pig blood," a few felt like throwing up at the thought of being covered with animal blood, and Winston made a small 'sorry' gesture to those with weak stomachs, "And this morning I checked to see it was there again, but with half its original amount, so... That's where they got the blood from."

After that, everyone collectively decided what they would do, but Stan had no voice or vote on the matter. It was decided that all the Sloppers involved would be punished, but a punishment had yet to be decided.

Gally hadn't said a word, but had been paying attention, he was so furious about everything that happened that he couldn't stop glaring at Stan, watching him squirm and hiss whenever his broken nose would throb from the pain. After a few minutes, everything went silent and they all stared at Gally, waiting for him to say something, knowing he was the one affected the most about what happened to (M/n).

He stood up and crossed his arms, slowly making his way to stand in front of Stan. He stared him down and Stan tried to hold his stare, but he couldn't, looking down and away from Gally.

"This shank could drop dead, and I wouldn't care, so do whatever you want... Because I will kill him otherwise," something about Gally's reaction not being physically aggressive, or loudly vocal about his hate toward Stan, made everyone feel on edge, the air turning tense and suffocating.

They almost wished Gally would've done something to Stan- anything, but perhaps, with the way his face looked Gally had already gotten most of his anger out on him.

"(M/n) is more than important than that," with that, Gally dropped his arms to his side and walked out.

He stared at the med room for a second, before deciding to quickly stop by his room. He rummaged around the crates and bags with his clothes, and found a shirt that would fit (M/n). He couldn't leave him wearing a cut, ripped and bloodied shirt all day.

///////

Unfortunately, (M/n) remained unconscious the whole day, trembling and shaking while being a prisoner of his own mind. And Gally never left his side, taking care of him in any way he could, wiping the sweat off his skin, holding his hand, talking to him, anything that worked to ease the frown on his face.

After a few minutes of coming back, one by one the Gladers started leaving, having work to do, even if the Builders didn't have their Keeper, they still had Dmitri, who was taking care of them while Gally was unavailable watching over (M/n).

And seeing how he didn't have much to do, he carefully changed (M/n) into his new shirt, and sat back down on his chair, reaching for his pockets, taking out the wood pieces he would usually collect to carve something new, he was used to keeping a few of them, along with one of his smallest carving tools, and like that, he started working on something. Something for (M/n), and him.

While working on that, and alternating with checking on (M/n), Chuck had stopped by to bring Gally lunch, who tried to eat at least something, but it found hard to, and Chuck stayed there with them, observing what the blond was doing, intrigued.

"Gally?" He looked at Chuck without moving from his position, humming a small 'yeah?' in response, "Could you... Teach me?"

He realized how Chuck was staring at the wood in his hand, and how he fiddling with a piece of wood of his own, Gally smiled at him, "Come here," Chuck smiled widely and moved his chair closer to Gally, "What do you wanna make?"

"Just... Something for (M/n), for when he gets better."

While Gally helped Chuck, (M/n)'s mind worked and flashed images behind his closed eyelids, they were all scattered and out of order, but he managed to make out a few of them, like... Writing a note and sending the Box up. Walking underground in the sewers.

Just things that didn't really make much sense to him at the time, but one of those images he saw in his dreams stuck to him like glue. The anger that filled his body felt all too real to be just a dream, but he didn't know what else he could call it, he wasn't doing anything in particular, just staring at a few screens in front of him, displaying pictures of his friends, labelled as 'subjects'.

He looked around and froze when he spotted a picture of himself. Subject 0; The-.

The scenery changed before he could read the rest. He was in a room, one he recognized as his bedroom, mumbling to himself as he paced around back and forth, "I'll get you guys out of there... No matter the cost..."

He saw himself gathering files on a computer, and on paper files, using radio waves to connect to the frequency he needed, and beginning to talk to someone from the Right Arm. A group of people that went against what W.I.C.K.E.D was doing to all these young people, men and women alike. (M/n) gave them the information about various facilities and how to break in from the outside.

He was determined to help his friends get out alive, even people he didn't even know, not caring about what could happen to him if he was found out. He just wanted them to be safe from WCKD.

"W.I.C.K.E.D is good, (M/n)," he turned around at the sound of a guy's voice behind him, and something about him was familiar but also made him feel uneasy, on edge.

"No... No, they're not Thomas, you have to understand."

That name again...

"They'll be safe and we will take care of everyone, (M/n), you don't have to worry about nothing," lies... All you do is lie, Janson. His head throbbed in pain as he became aware of how everything Ava and Janson had told him was nothing else than filthy lies.

They knew he would never agree with their methods to... To what they were doing, so they lied to him. The worst part was that he had believed them for a while, until he saw it with his own two eyes. They were basically making kids kill each other in that place, he couldn't allow it, not anymore.

Not while he watched the screen in front of him, and stared at Gally running away from the Griever chasing him. "Autopilot mode off," he turned to look to his side, and there was the same guy he kept seeing in his dreams. He dreamt this scene before, "Thomas, stop...!"

The guy looked toward him, and spoke with an emotionless voice, "He needs you more than you need him, (M/n), but you need me as much as I need you. Maybe you'll understand now..."

//////

Gally said good night to Chuck, watching him take their food plates, barely even touched and Gally continued to braid the thin rope in his hands, tying one end to the opening of his wood carving. He made matching bracelets for both of them, and he was just finishing them.

He wanted to give it to (M/n) once he woke up, and he wondered how long that would take...

"No... No... Stop..." The breathy mumbles (M/n) let out caught his attention, Gally fumbled with the bracelet in his hand and, like he had been doing all day, he stood up from the chair and sat next to (M/n), soothing him the best he could, moving his hair away and caressing his face.

"It's okay, I'm here, bean... Everything's fine," (M/n) released a heavy sigh as his body relaxed and he leaned closer to Gally's touch, "I'm not leaving you again. I promise."

Gally stayed awake pretty much the whole night, constantly drying the sweat off of (M/n)'s face and neck, noticing how his wound bandages were getting wet because of it, and he thanked Jeff for teaching him how to change them and the gauze without ripping the stitches off, so he did that, all the while talking to (M/n), noticing it helped him calm down, as if his voice grounded him back to reality, away from the night terrors his mind showed him.

He could barely sleep, any noise (M/n) made caused him to stir awake, thinking maybe he finally woke up and would get better soon, but no, he was lying there, still unconscious.

[rogueddie]

Is That All It Takes / Slither

At the end of the world, Steve is sure that there's no better time for romance. They need all the positives they can get and, in his mind, resolving potential romantic tension is great.

Even if he ends up rejected, like with Robin, he knows that it has the potential to make them better friends. He's not sure he would be as tightly bonded to Robin if he hadn't tried to ask her out- it's a decision he's always been strangely proud of.

The only problem? Steve is usually put into different groups- Robin, Nancy, the kids...

"Good job you've both got tonight off," Robin points out.

Steve qucikly sits up. "What? The whole night?"

With the teams they have, almost everyone is on rotation for patrol of their little camp every night. Having a night off, completely, is rare. Having a night off at the same time as Argyle?

"The whole night," Robin confirms. "Someone said something about him being the only one in that group not on rotation tonight, so I offered to cover for you."

"I was supposed to be with Nancy, wasn't I?"

She throws a notebook at him. It's the one she uses for her notes and doodles- as well as her 'poems'.

When he catches the book, she immediately realizes her mistake and dives after it. They're tangled on the floor, giggling from their attempt at wrestling, when Hopper pokes his head in to call Robin out for her turn on patrol.

"You kids having fun?" He asks.

They both scramble to their feet, despite the smile he has that reassures them that they aren't in trouble.

"Sorry," Steve smiles sheepishly.

"It's fine," Hopper waves him off. "You ready, Buckley?"

"Yep! Let's go!"

A beat after she leaves, Steve realizes he forgot to ask where Argyle will actually be for the night.

It shouldn't be hard, he thinks, trying to reassure himself. From what Steve has seen, or heard through Robin, he usually sticks to the same three spots. It shouldn't take too long to check them out.

And, hopefully, Argyle won't be in his bunk already. Steve crosses his fingers as he heads out.

He finds him in the second place he checks- he's just behind the building they use for storage. He's smoking.

"Hi," Steve greets. He tries to smile, hope it doesn't look as awkward as it feels. "You doing alright?"

"Not bad," Argyle nods. He offers his cigerrette, but Steve shakes his head. He shrugs as he gestures towards the woods. "Quiet."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, not sure what else to say.

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms, slowly realizing that he should have thought of something to actually talk about before he went looking for him.

"We should grow weed," he blurts out. He nearly slaps himself, barely holding back a wince.

Argyle hums, thankfully keeping his eyes forward as he thinks it over. "Yeah. We should. It'd be nice to be able to chill again. Shit's stressful."

"Right," Steve agrees. He does wince this time, hating how lame he sounds. He's sure he's better at this sort of thing.

"How you doing?" Argyle asks, turning to him. "Never see much of you."

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright. This sort of thing is like... well, it's becoming a sort of comfort. I'm kinda thankful for it." He pauses, almost stumbling over his words when he tries to quickly point out; "patroling, I mean! Like, guarding and... that."

"Mm, yeah. One of the small ones mentioned that you're, like, the babysitter. Patrolling is another way of keeping an eye on the kids."

"Right, exactly. Yeah."

"It's good, you know," Argyle continues, before Steve can start to internally scold himself again. "Nice to know you're looking out for us."

"I'm on a good a good team," he shrugs.

"You're not very good at this, huh?"

"What?"

"There you are!" Someone calls suddenly, loud enough to make Steve flinch. It's Mike, leaning around the corner, frowning. "You said five minutes!"

"Slow your roll, dude! I'm on my way!"

"Hurry up!"

Argyle snorts. He turns to Steve, raising an eyebrow. "You know which one is my room, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so?"

"Cool. See you in, like, an hour."

Steve wants to feel frustrated. If Argyle wasn't the one to take initiative, the whole interaction would have gone to shit. Steve could feel any potential slipping straight through his fingers.

But, judging by the implications... well. At least he knows that Argyle is also interested.

[antipathy-arsonist]

PLEASE, share your headcanons with me! I'm curious about Jeb, Tricky, why Hank can't talk, and Sanford with you!

Hmmm mokay

When it comes to Jeb I don’t have that manny interesting headcannons I think

He has a habit of assuming the worst of nearly everyone and dehumanises people in his head so he feels justified in killing them ( “he’s not a person he’s a clone!” “Hank is nothing more than a glorified attack dog!” “tricky is basically a completely different being from hofnarr!”)

Tricky… their actually my second or third favourite character (her and torture are constantly fighting for the second place spot in my head) tricky is a huge saw fan I think. They have definitely created real life saw traps. I think she likes any horror movie that’s overly gorey (my lovely friends… final destination and evil dead) I feel like clown has put Hank though some shit based on their favourite movies

ALSO gender fluid tricky is real.

They are not taking anyyy of what’s happening seriously. She think everything a fucking game…. /ref. Absolutely nothing that happened is real or has consequences in its head like he’s already a zombie clown literally nothing could make their life more bizarre

About the Hank thing the reason he can’t talk is getting his head ripped off in five. Mweh pretty simple.

Their face is like this kinda (ignore how shitty this doodle is) so they still have part of their lower jaw which is where the metal one is attached so they can kinda open it put they cant like… bite people or chew food… or talk or do much of anything you use your jaws for. Their tongue is also partly removed. :< so instead of talking they mostly use sign language but they also have a sort of tts thing. They don’t ever use it really cus it reminds them of the fact that they permanently injured themself so severally and they can’t go back to how they were I guess

SANFORD LETS TALK ABOUT HIM! unlike most of sq (they all got autism 👍) Sanford has like Uhm average levels of empathy and even though he’s less outgoing than dei he understands social situations better. He does still enjoy torturing people. However. I think being able to read people more easily would make him better at extracting info from people. HE LOOVVEES chemistry!!!! And he’s extremely intelligent (I will not tolerate Sanford is dumb headcannons in my house!/hj) you gotta be smart to make bombs without blowing yourself up. Though I guess they’re all intelligent in different areas (which is actually how all of humanity is *shrug*)

He def worries about his friends when he knows something is up but usually he won’t do anything for fear of making it worse.

Also Hank and san childhood friends headcannon idc if it’s unrealistic (san trans masc and Hank nb gnc so Hank got to take all of his old “girl clothes” cus he wasn’t gonna use em)