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roosterforme · 10 months ago

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Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

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

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

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

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

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

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

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

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

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

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

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

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

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

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

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

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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revelboo · 1 month ago

Note

OOOO! Yes yes yes! Please more of the Lost Light crew! I love them all so much!

And more Shockwave (any gen) PLS PLS PLS he is my absolute favorite!!!

Your writing is amazing! All of it! I love every update! Every story is such a treat and the way you write is delicious!

Thank you!

Invisible Monsters Pt 5

Lost Light Megatron x Reader

• “What’s going on?” You mumble as he reaches up to curl his servos around the warmth of you where you’d apparently draped yourself against his neck while he recharged. Hates moving you, but his data pad is lit up. Carefully cradling you to him so he can sit up and reach for his data pad as it dings again. “Megatron?” The worry in your sleepy voice makes him slow down, tracing the curve of your cheek with a servo. Wanting nothing more than to just lay back down with you, because he’s rested better feeling the beat of your heart against him than he has in forever. How long has it been since his recharge wasn’t haunted by nightmares? Somehow, having you there, feeling you, banishes them.

• “Everything’s well.” His words are reassuring, but there’s the faintest hint of a growl in his voice that contradicts him and you’re wide awake now. Whatever that alert was, it’s bad. That feeling strengthening as the former warlord shutters his optics for a moment as if gathering himself. Or praying for strength. Rodimus maybe? “I’ll be back,” he adds, lowering you onto his berth as he stands, hesitating to drape a blanket around you before leaving.

• Stiffening when the finds Ultra Magnus waiting outside his quarters, he falls into step beside the other mech, heading for the bridge. “How many?” And how had no one realized what idiocy Brainstorm was up to? Preceptor is supposed to be watching him, reining him in.

• “Aside from the one currently in your possession?” The look Magnus shoots him clearly giving away his opinion on leaving a human in his care. And it’s not that he doesn’t understand the other mech’s concern, but it still bothers him that Magnus assumes you’re in danger with him. That he’d hurt you. “Three more have been found so far, but Brainstorm isn’t exactly being forthcoming. If that device has been randomly pulling humans here since the first one appeared, there’s no telling how many there are. It doesn’t help that we keep finding new areas of the ship or rooms that were walled off.”

• Primus, what a mess. “The others?” He asks servos lifting unconsciously to touch his throat where your warmth was before he realizes what he’s doing and drops his hand. “Who has them?”

• “Rodimus has one that he tried to pawn off on me. Drift has another that seems to be having some sort of lingering issue with being transported. And Whirl.” Venting tiredly at him as Megatron’s steps falter, Magnus holds up a hand. “I know, but considering their immediate instinct when faced with him was to punch him? I’m not too concerned. I’m more worried that Brainstorm said there’s likely more not on the ship.”

• Running his servos over his face, he swallows a growl, because this mess just gets better. Because how to tell you that they’d figured out what had happened to you, but that you’d been one of the lucky ones? That you might not have been is an uneasy feeling twisting through his spark. He’d never have known what he was missing, never have felt the touch of those trusting, little hands on his much bigger ones. Hands that before had only been used to hurt. “Dead, then?” He hazards as they enter the bridge and he spots Rodimus and Drift both cornering Brainstorm, the scientist appearing bored with them.

• “Or on another ship or world we passed too near. From what Brainstorm and Preceptor have volunteered, humans were only shifted to places where Cybertronians were.”

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #mtmte megatron

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endearng · 25 days ago

Text

Lifeline

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x addict!reader Summary: How does one move on after seeing the lost versions of themselves on someone else entirely? WC: 8.8k Warnings: canon criminal minds violence (m-rder); pr-stitution and mentions of sex; s.h-rm; illegal substances consumption; mentions of dr-g abuse; panic attacks; graphic suicide attempt. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: This is heavily based on "The A Team", "Gale Song" and "evermore" and also Skins UK's character Effy Stonem. Besides that, I was also somewhat inspired by CM'S 2x11 and I messed up the timeline. Feedbacks are always welcome! | masterlist

"Her name's Amelia Holden. She was found in a dumpster in an alley of a neighborhood in central Richmond. Along with her, we have four women murdered within two weeks." JJ informed as she briefed the team about the case they were invited to work on.

Their reactions always were different. Aaron Hotcher remained unreadable, often asking about the local police's findings. Derek Morgan usually worried about victimology and the modus operandi. Emily Prentiss used to brainstorm details on the pictures. David Rossi was the one to make comparisons with previous cases. Spencer Reid busied himself with data, statistics and whatnot about the locality.

Speaking of which, "This is an high-end neighborhood, not to mention the obvious fact that it happened in the capital of Virginia. Based on that, one could think that the citizens will cooperate to solve this as fast as we can."

Derek sighed, "I wish I could tell you're wrong in different circumstances, pretty boy." Spencer frowned, eager to ask, but Derek was faster, "Truth is, these girls were all prostitutes. The rich won't give a damn if they go missing, which is pure hypocrisy based on the fact that they go where the money is, which is, well... in their neighborhood." JJ pursed her lips, taking another look at the evidence.

There were pictures of four girls, placed so carelessly in the dumpster that it was possible to deduce that they had been all thrown in there already dead. Not a single chance of survival. Not a single chance someone could save them. JJ felt a lump in her throat and looked away from the photos.

“It’s most likely a male.” Rossi said.

Emily nodded, asking, "So what do you guys think? Maybe this guy is murdering them because he thinks he's doing society a favor?"

"It could be, yes. When prostitutes are targeted, the main reason is misogyny, but we can also associate these crimes to other forms of hatred. It can also be related to power." Spencer answered. "Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"No, only physical violence." JJ answered. "The coroner's reports indicate that they were drugged, some of them with multiple substances. There are red bruises as well as knife scars and stabs basically all over their bodies."

"Multiple substances in their body can be a sign of addiction, but also that our unsub drugged them to make them easier to drag around." Spencer continued. “Does the lab have the substances yet?”

“Garcia is working on it.” JJ replied.

"And the amount of cuts and bruises on their bodies mean that our unsub is angry. Like, uncontrollably angry." Emily finished.

"Well, he's killed both black and white women, so we know it's not race motivated." Rossi completed Emily's train of thought. "He's been getting more and more desperate, given the depths of the cuts as he progresses, look." He said, pointing to the picture of the last victim.

Emily gulped, shaking her head lightly.

“I’d say that, given the color of the bruises, they were beaten right before they died. This unsub doesn’t keep them for much longer. Most likely, he tortures them and kills them, getting rid of them in the dumpsters. The place of disposal is rather telling.” Spencer chimed in.

"Get Garcia to look up sex offenders in that area." Hotch said. "Try to find them all, no matter what their outcome was. Close, dropped... It doesn't matter. If the theory about social cleansing is right, maybe the offender has a past history with it. On the other hand, if he's rich, he probably got away with it."

"I'll call her right now." Morgan said with a nod.

"Great. tell the Richmond PD we're getting there in a couple of hours." Hotch announces. "Wheels up in thirty."

—

Arriving in the precinct, Hotchner assigned the tasks. Rossi and Morgan would go to the latest crime scene as Reid and Prentiss looked around for possible witnesses. JJ would stay at the precinct in case something came up.

"Check this out," called Rossi. "The... instrument was big enough to go through her body, from her stomach to her back." He said.

Morgan sighed. "Intensified violence means that he's not planning on stopping any time soon."

A couple feet away, agents Reid and Prentiss talked to one of the prostitutes. "We're always here, especially at night. Some girls are here during the daytime, but you know, it's slower. Nobody wants to be seen with us." She had bloodshot eyes, a defeated expression on her features.

"Who are your usual... customers?" Reid asked, a little embarrassed to be talking to a woman who had that much expertise in a field he lacked any. A flash of worry and guilt crossed the young woman's face and she looked around as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"Don't worry, everything's classified. You're not gonna get in trouble if you talk to us. We're just trying to help." Emily said, trying to ease her nerves.

"Okay... I... The guys who work in the bank are often here. Cops, too. But they are very sneaky." She whispered, fright almost palpable in her voice.

"Did any of them ever pose a threat? Maybe too violent? Persistent?" The young doctor asked, again. She blinked at him, willing the tears not to fall.

"Most of them are just bored husbands or divorcees who want to get laid without the worry of being chased after." Looking away, she went on, "we’re the ones who can't afford to say no to the things they're into. We get the best of their roughness, so it's hard to tell." Emily gave her a sympathetic look.

From afar, you watched their interactions. The girl, whose name was Renée, looked very nervous and guilty. You approached them, looking a lot more skeptical than the emotional mess they were asking questions to. You took a look at them, took in the way they were dressed, besides the pens and notepads in their hands. The man took a second look at you, but you shrug it off, used to be perceived and not always in the best manner, given your appearance these days. “You ok, Renée?" You checked on her softly and she nodded in agreement. "Excuse me. Are you with the police?" You ask in a serene voice.

"Hi. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI," the dark haired woman answered, both of them showing you their badges. You nodded. "We're investigating the murder of women in this location."

Spencer looked at you as you inspected their faces. You wore casual clothes, nothing like the outfit Renée had on, and, for a moment, he thought what were you doing in there and how and why did you know her. It didn't make sense, albeit briefly, to him, why would someone so mundane be in that place, at that time. After a couple of seconds of watching you curiously, the pieces started falling into places, though. The crestfallen expression, dry skin and chapped lips... You were going through something.

He had a feeling he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

That is, until you actually started talking.

"Hello," you introduce yourself. "Oh, I see. I didn’t think the locals would be interested in solving these anyway."

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked, curious to know your answer.

“I suppose they don’t like the fact that some of us are so daring to the point of going to their station to report the abuse we all go through weekly,” you snorted, voice thick with disdain, although every person in the conversation was aware that it was not aimed at either of them, “like, why are we complaining? We want to do this, we are willingly here.” Emily sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Spencer could muster up.

“Anyway…” you sniffled. A telling sign. “How can we help?”

"Have you seen anyone violent around here? A-a new face, perhaps?" He asked, turning his body to face you properly. Emily looked at him, puzzled.

"Doctor, with all due respect, they are men. And they are paying. It’s basically a green light for all sorts of abuse, I'm sure Renée told you that much." You answered, in a much more certain tone than your friend had used.

"Did either of you recall anything about that night? The most basic detail can help us.” Emily inquired.

"Yeah." Renée answered with a quiver of her lip, clinging to you, trying to find some solace. You squeezed her shoulder lightly, glancing at her.

Sensing she might not be able to talk, you went on, "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary that night. I didn't notice they were missing until the next day. We try our best to watch out for each other. As I said, some men can be real creeps, but once you start your own thing, it's… hard” you exhaled, “for some of us to keep track of what's going on around us. Unless we run into each other again, we won't know for sure if we're actually safe." You explained, looking down at your feet. After a couple deep breaths that felt like you were inhaling the oxygen of the entire Earth, you looked back at them. Still avoiding eye contact, glancing between their foreheads, something you'd learned to do in order to escape the person you were with when you needed to.

Spencer watched you the entire time.

“I see,” the woman said, taking some notes. “Would you know if they share anything in common?”

“They usually stay in the park at the end of the street,” Renée answered, “They go there once things quiet down, and guys pick them up in their cars. The night they were… um, taken, was pretty intense. If they got kidnapped, we couldn’t even give you a license plate. We weren’t around.” Her voice dripped with pure guilt. You ran your thumb on her shoulder.

At the moment, though, there's something else entirely on your mind. Eventually, after a beat of silence, you decide to speak your mind, to expose your insecurities. Not worried about how you may look. Hell, it's been a long time since you stopped. "I'm sorry to press or if I sound too demanding. I know sometimes things get out of your control, but, uh, you're gonna catch this guy, right? I mean... we have to be here. I hope you don't think we have another choice."

As you talked, your soft voice and pleading eyes drew Spencer's attention to you with even more intensity. Your voice and mannerisms weren't something he was expecting. He berated himself after realizing how he was in the wrong by assuming you’d portray yourself in a certain way because of the area you worked in. Your voice was low, but firm. Your words were understanding, but demanding. Your posture was almost defensive, but the desperation of your tone told them how terrified you were. He couldn't help but notice the fact that you were sniffing quite often. His profiling skills were faster than himself and he made the conclusion that, given the line of your work, he presumed it most likely wasn’t only a cold.

Spencer knew, then, that you shared something in common with him. Something bad.

Again, not something he wanted to know about.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer beat her to it, "We're gonna do the best we can, Miss."

"Glad to hear that," you muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thanks for your time.” Emily said, a gentle smile on her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as you and René left, walking arm in arm. In a safe distance from everyone else, he saw as your friend broke down in your arms and as you comforted her, even if you had your own tears streaming down your face. He had reached Morgan and Rossi when you two walked away. Emily studied his face attentively, wondering why he was so fast to assure a possible victim like that, because, one, it was unlike him to want to partake in such sensitive conversations with the ones involved in the process. Two, what kind of agent, doctor, official, profiler, whatever, makes promises before such an intricate process such as their work?

“So, did you get anything?” Rossi asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Those two women said that the victims usually waited for clients in the park right down the street.” Emily said.

“I think we should go take a look.” Spencer suggested.

Searching the park, which was full of passersby and families just spending some time outside their houses, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this case had already hit him too close to home. The violence was something that still messed with his head and he thought he could never recover from the flashes of memories behind his eyelids once he closed his eyes to sleep every night. Still, it wasn’t that that baffled him the most, but you. He knew what it was like to struggle with addiction. He had been very harsh on Emily not long ago, during a withdrawal, so he knew aggressiveness and mood swings were to be expected. You and your mannerisms, however, were totally out of the addiction bingo. The way you looked, so broken, so sick, in every sense of the word, didn’t stop you from having a polite conversation with them, even if the topic was very much concerning to you. Plus, the caring nature you seemed to have and the way you made sure to be supportive towards you and the others who, just like you, went through hell every day for the most unspeakable reasons stood out to him.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Hey, I got something.” Morgan said as he approached the team with a piece of paper. “It says: They will not do it again.”

“Who’s they?” Rossi inquired.

“Maybe the prostitutes. The only way of stopping them is killing them.” Spencer answered, albeit his thoughts were still far, far away from the scene.

“But stop them from doing what? Causing a divorce? Being a homewrecker? Polluting the city?” She wondered out loud.

“These are all valid possibilities,” Rossi nodded, “we now know from your interview that rich men are regulars here. Maybe one of them was unfaithful and snapped after getting his divorce. Now, he might be taking it out on these girls.” He finished.

“We still need to figure that out.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, babygirl, we need a favor,” Derek said once Penelope picked up his call. “Can you check every upper-class man in Richmond that has recently gotten a divorce?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she quipped, “it might take some time, though. And I know you’ll need to narrow it down.”

“We’ll keep you posted. Thanks, babygirl.”

“Always happy to help, hot stuff.”

—

Back at the station, the BAU team was surrounded by cops, sharing their findings so far. Spencer was the one to make sure that the cops would be on duty and laser focused on the areas he determined through the geographical profile. Those areas were most likely the ones the next attack would take place. He emphasized, very intently, that they needed cops especially in darker alleys and that they were looking for a male in his thirties.

Spencer couldn't shake the thought of dread that crept up on him, making him almost paralyzed. The fear of getting to the unsub, of letting him get away, of being too late, of being too early, of not being enough. Every scenario was the worst, his mind working overtime to make sure he had at least an ounce of optimism for months on end, ever since he finally managed to stay clean off Dilaudid. The cops moved around, divided between groups to start surveillance. And the dread kept building inside of him, like a crescendo of horror.

Sitting next to Emily, he decided to break the morbid silence hanging over them. “I'm sorry I lashed out on you, Emily. I don't think I ever apologized.”

Totally not expecting his words, she looked at him, wide-eyed. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and form an answer. “It's no problem. I know what you were going through.”

“Still. It doesn't change much. It's not a good enough excuse for me to treat others poorly.” He couldn't look at her, fiddling with his fingers instead.

“Reid, why do I sense you're talking about something else?”

He sighed. He was so, so tired of keeping it in, of bottling everything in, of swallowing his words so as to not make anyone uncomfortable. “I am.” He confessed, after a moment of silence.

Maybe staying quiet was less morbid than the conversation they were about to have, he mused.

“What happened?”

“That girl, today. The second one. I could tell she's having issues. The same as me, I mean. And she was so nice the entire time. She was trying to make her friend feel better.”

“Spencer…” Emily breathed out, a somewhat reprimanding look on her face. Not that he could see it. “This comparison is unfair on so many levels. First, you've seen her for what? Five minutes? We don't know what she's been through, if she has a family… There are so many possibilities. Maybe she was having a good day—”

“How does one have a good day knowing that they have very high chances of being killed?” He interrupted. A sigh left Emily's lips.

“I don't know. But you do understand why that comparison you made was unfitting, to say the least, right?”

Right on cue, to make the subject die, he muttered a “I guess.” so she could drop the subject. From afar, Spencer watched as you left a building with a glare on your face. He wondered what you were feeling and if your expression always told you off.

“There she is. Not looking happy.” Emily said, simply, not relating it to the use of any substances out of respect. She could only imagine what he was going through, being forced to watch someone she loves slowly lose themselves over something so trivial, but at the same time, dangerous as a substance.

Spencer pressed his lips on a thin line.

—

You laid there, on a big, albeit uncomfortable bed, simply enduring the sloppy, much erratic thrusts of a man who was old enough to be your dad. Grandfather, if you pushed it a little bit. Internally, you chuckled bitterly at the thought, because those two decided to want distance from you a long, long time ago. You had turned out into a person who many people didn't want to be associated with, so you kind of understood their attitude towards you. Still, it didn't make navigating through this world all by yourself any easier. In fact, it stung harder than you cared to admit, but, for the most part of the time, you were as high as a kite — your coping mechanism to shield your brain for reminiscing about the disgusting, vile man that you had to... satisfy to avoid starving to death. It was a never ending cycle. A torturous one that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

Speaking of which, the man above you came on your stomach, meaning that the appointment had finally reached its end. You couldn't quite pinpoint if he was the first, second or even third man you've encountered that night, but you didn't care. The effects of the dope made sure you wouldn't remember them the next day. Actually, it had been a while since you had been exposed to daylight. Your routine consisted of being around all night with those men, getting home, scrubbing your skin hard enough to draw blood as you showered, trying to get rid of the feeling of the greedy, disgusting hands all over your body, sleeping all day, getting high and repeating it all over again. Some nights you didn’t have too much strength to do it all. Some days felt like they mashed together with how long it felt with the same ache, the same hole in your chest. Your life was miserable, and you often caught yourself thinking if it was worth it. And, if it was, what for?

"You're so good, princess, kept quiet all the time and shit." The man said as he pulled his shirt back on, covering his thin frame. You cleaned yourself the best you could with a washcloth. "You’re fairly pretty… If you weren't a junkie, I might take you home with me... keep you all to myself, you know?" He inquired, a smirk dancing around his features.

You didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, you glared at him, even though he couldn't see your face, grabbed the money that had been placed in the nightstand and made a beeline to the door.

You stared at that money with burning rage. If you didn't need it so much, you would definitely tear it apart given the hatred coursing through your veins. You gulped, and it tasted bitter, and it was hard to swallow the lump in your throat. You sold yourself for something as ordinary as money, and it made you so angry because your family was swimming in it. Sometimes, you wished they would drown in it, just to see if your anger simmered down.

You weren't always like this, so... so rotten. Coming from a rich, traditional family, people expected highly from you all the time, thus, you had been an excellent, straight A's student, being the valedictorian of your class at a traditional Catholic school without your teachers needing to double check any records. You also volunteered halftime in an institute that helped old people, which made your parents immensely proud. At that time, you had gotten yourself a boyfriend, your high-school sweetheart, getting engaged to him as you started your third year at a great university, majoring in Psychology. It all went down, though, when you started struggling with addiction.

It started with lighter substances, like alcohol. You drank until you started mumbling out the words you meant to say, going even as far as embarrassing yourself and your fiancée multiple times at social gatherings that involved booze. You loved the thrill, the buzz, the lightness it made you feel, instead of the pile of anxiety that built and seeped into your very bones after being so pushed to the edge your entire life. You thought you liked your life, but after being in touch with people who had a much (what you considered to be) easier life than yours, you started to let loose. Since you didn't have any family around you to put you on a tight leash, you lost control altogether.

When your family realized what had happened, too engrossed in their own businesses and investments and money and anything that was more important than their offsprings, it was too late. You couldn't go a day without drinking, dropping out of schoolcALT without thinking about the consequences for your future. Ironically, you knew and understood pretty well the things you were going through, but battling an addiction requires a lot of strength that you didn't know where to find, since you were all alone. After all, you had pushed all your friends away, your fiancée had walked out on you and your family basically disowned you.

Left to your own devices and unable to keep a steady, serious job, despite your background, you found yourself in the streets.

Sigh.

Opening the door to your small apartment, you got rid of the clothes that began to reek of alcohol, throwing them mindlessly on the floor. You rushed to the bathroom and stared at your own reflection for a moment, noticing the dark spots under your eyes, your dry lips and the lifeless gaze that your eyes had turned into. You had lost quite a bit of weight, now looking like a dead skull, wandering around, doomed to search for any reason to continue living in a world that had been pitch black.

In the bathtub, you scratched your skin aggressively, not being able to avoid the feeling of the remnants of several unknown men, which sensation brought up the comparison that you felt similar to a person who suffers with phantom limb pain: you couldn't see their hands, you couldn't come up with anyone's face, but you couldn't avoid sensing their touch on your skin. But, unlike the syndrome, you didn't feel pain, feeling rather like needles were seeping into your skin, deep enough to reach your bones. But, like the syndrome, it felt like it was yours. Their touch, although invisible, was forever inked into your skin.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face, mixing themselves with the water that poured from the shower. Tears of both pain, disgust, desperation, regret. It was a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't deal with. As you left the bathroom, you downed half a bottle of vodka, hoping that it would lull you to sleep.

Maybe for good this time.

—

A loud banging on your door roused you from sleep. Your mouth felt dry and your skin felt even worse — it felt like it had been days since you last drank water. Maybe it was true. The loud noise made your head throb in pain. Curled in bed, you tried to muffle the sounds by covering your ears with your hands, but it was just as annoying. The person on the other side of the door seemed hell-bent on seeing you, but you couldn't come up with anyone other than your landlord, because your rent was supposed to be paid yesterday.

Getting up from your bed with a groan of annoyance and pain, you threw on a flannel you found on the floor. Opening the door, you were surprised to see your older brother.

"Y-you?" You asked, baffled. Embarrassed by your own appearance.

"It's me." He said, the usual serious edge to his voice. He said your name, hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what he wanted. The fact that you had been left alone for so long made your heart burn with anger and you wanted to slam the door in his face. You considered it for a moment, but it wouldn't take a genius to know that you needed someone with you, even if for just a couple of minutes, even if it was out of pity. You didn't mind. You relied on the kindness of people to get by, so what harm would it be in accepting a little more pity? More self loathing than you already had and constantly feeded inside you? You judged it impossible.

With a curt nod, you gave him space to enter your apartment. The place was a mess, clothes scattered around, curtains drawn closed, the darkness in the room not only caused by the absence of sunlight. Something somber stopped light from entering. Your brother looked around with an unreadable expression and saw the countless bottles everywhere, from the floor to the couch, not to mention the many white remains on the surfaces like the small coffee table. He blinked away tears, desolate to see you in that position. Desperate to find words. Desperate to find you again in that vessel of a human you had become.

Clearing his throat, “I… heard what's happening. I was worried so I came all the way here to check on you.”

You bit back a bitter laughter. How could someone be this cruel? Abandon you and then treat you like you mattered? It made you almost want to throw up. “I'm alive. Happy?” You couldn't help the snarky remark.

“Come on, you know I'm not like them.” He defended, not able to look you in the eye.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “If you weren't, you wouldn't have left me, too.”

“Come on, I was going through my own shit, I didn't realize what you were going through until it was too late.”

“Too late? Too late? I spent all my days wishing any of you would pick up the damn phone so that someone could come and get me before I was dead. But you're all the same. So self absorbed, so selfish, so… individualistic.” Your words were daggers, but you couldn't stop yourself from being mean, from trying to push away the only person who seemingly had an interest in helping you. Too bad you felt it was a little too late.

“Don't say that.”

At this point, the verbal vomiting was unstoppable. You sure looked like a maniac, rambling and jumping inconsistently from one topic to another, aiming to hurt him as much as they have hurt you, too. You knew what you were doing, but it felt for a moment that something else was forcing such cruelness out of your mouth. “The final blow was grandma dying, right? So you could finally pretend I don't exist. Keep doing that.”

“Let me help you.” He pleaded, coming close to you.

“I don't need your help.”

“If you don't accept it now, you're gonna spend more time wishing you had.” He said, holding your hands with his own.

“How are you going to help me? By sending me money so that I spend it all on drugs? On booze? Hah, nice one, really.”

“I wouldn't help you kill yourself.” He almost shouted, rage and sadness fighting over which would be the dominant feeling in his eyes.

“Then how? I basically just told you I'm helpless. I'm a ghost. I stopped existing a long time ago.” A sob broke through you, echoing in the walls of your dark apartment. You shut your eyes. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

Silence.

He's probably thinking everything through. Trying to find a way to let me down gently, you thought. “Let me take you somewhere safe. We'll see how it goes.”

You didn't expect that much. Despite wanting to say yes, your mouth was seemingly disconnected from your brain, so your words took a whole different turn. Instead of accepting his help, you simply stated, “I don't think I would stand to let you down again. I'm sorry.” He looks at you, bewildered, but, to you, not strong enough to put up a fight. “Can you please leave? I'm waiting for a friend.”

Defeated, he walks out the door.

You don't notice the paper with his number left on the kitchen counter. When Renée shows up, dressed in a skin-tight red dress, she sees and runs her finger on the note as if it could save her from every single risk her life could show her.

—

"We found another body."

Amidst the research and data analysis required to provide the profile, Spencer Reid got easily lost on his obligations and far too focused on his duties in order to help people as fast as he could, which was why he was seemingly terrified of one of the local officer's voice.

At the crime scene, the found body was once Renée Woods. Spencer watched from afar as the coroner examined their body and as Derek and Emily searched frantically for anything they could do to help, whether it was examining the crime scene or simply talking to the assigned legists. Spencer, unlike them, stood still. Muscles unable to make any movements besides clenching his hands in fists so tight that his somewhat long nails almost cut through the sensitive skin.

How would you take the news?

What if that was you?

The thought went as quickly as it came, because, from afar, he watched as you showed up, looking skeptical, but soon becoming hysterical once you recognized her, even from a certain distance. You could tell it was her by the clothes she was wearing. You cried hysterically, screaming as if someone had torn apart your heart with their bare hands, sobbing as if you couldn't breathe unless Renée was walking the Earth. A cop touching you, instead of soothing your turmoil, only served as a fuel to the fire raging through you. Sadness, anger, desperation, panic, everything flooding your chest, ragging your breath. You pushed the man away, trying to find a way to enter the crime scene.

Spencer finally was taking control of his body again. Approaching you, calmly, as if you would attack him too if he got too close and too abruptly, or worse, you’d run away, he made his way to you. Noticing your red-rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do your best,” you said in a broken voice, looking him in the eye. Defeated.

Silence. All the noise seemed dull, distant, far away. You were in a bubble.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wide eyes looking at his confused ones. Right now, talking to you felt like whiplash. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to accuse or blame you. Fuck,” you cursed, bringing your hands to your eyes. “Can I do anything to help? I can… I can try.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily Prentiss watched your interactions with a puzzled look on her face. You looked and acted so distraught that she felt the need to approach, mindful of the damage the words from an enraged, saddened close friend of a victim would do. Unable to stop her own feet, she approached you. Spencer wouldn't utter a word. You looked nervous, looking from her to him and obsessively trying to wipe your tears that seemingly had their own will to run on your face.

"Can you come with me?" She offered, handing out a blanket for you. You looked at her and amidst the mixed feelings that the grief started etching into your eyes, you could give her a grateful glance.

By her side, you looked at Spencer, who was still frozen in place.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, looking at the ground.

He looked straight ahead. Once you were with Emily, he glanced your way with a pitiful look on his face.

—

Days passed. You were in the precinct once they called Renée’s family to break the morbid news. You watched as her mother fell to her knees once one of them told her what had happened to her daughter. You heard the chanting of "I failed, I failed, I failed..." endlessly. And by endlessly, you mean it is still haunting you to this day.

For three days, all you did was escape reality, whether by sleeping or doing drugs. Your brother's contact sat still on the kitchen counter, collecting dust and meaning hesitation from your end.

On the fourth day, you were sober for a couple of hours. You opened the curtains and despite the darkness still loomed around, it felt better. It burned, but in a nice way. As you stared at the note in the counter, untouched, Emily Prentiss knocked on your door to let you know that they were close to catching the killer. His profile was complete, it seemed. Something about a man in his 40s taking out the frustration of his parents’ broken marriage because of his father’s infidelity and his own divorce because of his affairs. Cyclic. Looking at your wrecked state, she told you all about him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked as Renée’s mother chant still echoed in your mind.

"First, I thought you needed hope. Second, I was thinking you might recognize him.”

Needless to say, she was right. Your lungs burned at each breath you took, and, in that moment, you decided you would try to be strong. Stronger. Renée’s face came to mind. You had nothing left to lose if you exposed a few rich men. Thanking Emily, you said softly, your tone contrasting with the vile nature of your words, “You said he dumped the girls in a specific place, right?” She nodded. “I don’t know if anyone told you about this one place, but they take some of the girls there. It’s kind of off-radar”

As you gave her the location, her surprise betrayed her usual composure. “No, nobody did.”

“Do you think it could be helpful?”

—

You found yourself in one of aforementioned building’s room along with Dr. Spencer Reid, as sort of your protector, while the others patrolled the building and the people who came and went, and the local cops lurked around downtown, in the park. You felt nervous, reminiscing about your last interaction with the man. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on a chair. “May I ask you something?” You inquired, carefully. He hadn’t talked much to you unless it was information about what you knew and what he needed to know. He nodded at you, turning his attention to your figure. "Do you like your job? I only ask because... you know... nobody really likes this job."

"... I do, yeah." He muttered, albeit not the whole truth. It was gruesome, but he thought he could manage. Besides, you didn’t need to be exposed to even more disaster. It was bad enough as it was.

"I don’t know if you know or acknowledge this, but not many people choose to do this. It's more of a last option, the one you really don't wanna take." You justified, even though you didn’t quite know why.

You supposed it was the embarrassment that came with being with a man who knew what you did but wasn’t with you to do that.

Understanding flooded his features, a soft "I understand." making its way out of his lips.

"Thanks." I say with a tight-lipped smile. "It means a lot."

He nodded. "You keep fiddling with your necklace."

"It's a locker, actually. It's a picture of me and my grandmother. I don't wear it when I'm.. um... Anyway, it's kinda sacred to me." You chuckled, gripping the accessory tighter. “I wore it today so that it would give me the strength needed to help Renée. And myself.”

He glances at you as if he wanted to know more. After a beat of silence and deciding that it was enough, "Do you have a good relationship with her?"

"I did. We were very close, but she passed away last year, sort of giving my family the free pass to cut me out entirely. I believe they think that I was the one who killed her, my life choices and whatnot."

He furrowed his brows. "You didn't choose this."

"In a way, I did. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It's just that... It felt good not to have so much pressure on me, you know? I felt finally free... but what did it cost me? A safe relationship, my education, my family and friends… They never gave me a chance, not even to explain myself. I needed help. Thus far, I have had company my entire life. I didn't know how to exist. Then one of those girls helped me, but I realized that she was struggling to pay rent and I needed to do something, not just sit pretty and be high with the money I had left.”

His silence was unexpected.

In reality, it was caused by the cliché of watching your life passing before your eyes took over his mind. He remembered being drugged by Tobias Hankel, he remembered the needles puncturing his skin and the relief he felt from the entire situation once the substance started running through his veins. He remembered taking Dilaudid from his abductor’s pockets and he remembered staring at his own reflection in the mirror and finding a stranger looking back at him. He remembered being given a chip of sobriety even though he wasn’t sober for that long. He remembered thinking of himself as unworthy as he became more and more dependent, especially when he couldn’t even disguise how affected, how it changed him. Looking at your defeated face, he muttered, “I understand. It changes your perception of things and yourself.”

You could act oblivious and assume that his knowledge of the topic came from books, but you don’t see that expression on just anybody’s face. You felt sorry for him. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about himself any further, even if, in your opinion, wasn’t nearly enough for someone who had battled something as deep as an addiction, you decided to respect his wish. You talked about yourself instead, hoping to give him something, someone to relate to, as you desperately wanted for yourself. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” His voice held that tinge of something you couldn’t quite describe, something distant, but so close at the same time. He saw himself in you, almost if he was talking to himself.

He might have had Penelope check your background. Something about the lost potential resonated deep within him, and it made him all the more anxious to be close to you, to repair something he hadn’t been the one to break. As he looked at you, all he could see was someone in dire need of something, someone to grasp onto. “How does one manage to move past all that?"

Despite the will growing and boiling inside of him, he couldn’t just come up with a magic solution to cut through the darkness surrounding you. "Honestly, I don't know." You couldn’t see when he gulped.

"It's a long way from home. At least, for me."

For a moment, you looked at each other, mouths shut, not a single beat of sound around you. You looked at him, searching for answers and for someone to relate to. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging over you like a fog. He wasn't trying to seem disinterested or unkind, but he felt as if his curt phrases weren’t enough to calm your heart. He spoke again, his voice softer, offering a hint of deeper sincerity, "Sorry, I..." he trailed off, unsure how to convey his thoughts without making the situation more hurtful. "I'm sure you can manage it with the right people."

Your grip on your locket softened, letting it fall close to your chest once you let it go. Looking at him, a soft melody started playing in your head.

Patience.

“I’m sorry,” you said, earnestly, which made him look at you with recognition. “Thanks for talking to me. It’s been a while.”

I missed this feeling.

—

After a few moments, the BAU team had captured the man before he could collect another soul. Everything happened so fast. In one moment, you were in a superficially verbal conversation with Spencer. Despite the shallow nature of the words exchanged, digging deeper, the interaction was filled to the brim with meaning, which made you rethink a thing or two. You shared that much with him.

“Goodbye.” He said, simply. To you, he was not one to speak much. “You’ll be home by spring.” I can’t wait ‘til then, he thought.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Next thing you knew, as you got home, all by yourself, you decided to reach out for your brother. Telling him you needed help, that you were pessimistic but that it would be foolish not to at least try.

Days at rehab went on as smoothly as they could, considering you were suffering with withdrawal. Your behavior and emotions swayed like waves on a lake surface on a windy day. Deeply unstable, your mind was forced to remember all the hell you’ve been through on a daily basis for the last sad months of your life. Grieving for the version of you you could have been, for Renée, for your sense of self, self-respect and whatever you had lost during those dark times. Often, your hands trembled, you felt cold in a warm, cozy room and there were times your skin felt ablaze, not to mention the whirlwind of thoughts that made your head hurt. You missed feeling numb.

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you.

Still, there were afternoons that you would sit on the porch of your bedroom and simply take in the surroundings. The green grass that was taken better off by the employees like it was someone’s first born. The other patients who walked around and closed their eyes as they felt the sun kissing their skin for what it felt like the first time in years. The trees that casted shadows on the grass so that some of them could lay beneath them. The breeze that engulfed your figure and gently touched you, unlike you had been treated. The immense sense of belonging to this existence, of not longer being a stranger to your own life. You would take deep breaths and your lungs wouldn’t ache like before. You pictured the two reasons responsible for making you take the decision that brought you to this place sitting next to you. You held what was left of one of them between your fingertips.

The sudden and constant mood swings made your attitude change at breakneck speed.

Tonight, taking a quick break from the notebook you were scribbling on, you took a look around you. At that moment, everything around you was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as if the hands that touched you in the past stopped you from inhaling oxygen altogether. You shut your eyes closed and tried to breathe in like the doctors had told you to when things got too hard — it was not working. Panicking further, you stumbled your way to the ensuite bathroom and took a good look at your reflection. You felt shivers running down your body, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach as you desperately tried to turn on the faucet to splash some cold water to your face. Unsuccessful, to say the least.

The feeling grew as time went by. You couldn’t stand the discomfort and the memories and the feeling of being inappropriate to go back to living in the real world again. For a moment, you quieted your struggle. You gave in. You glanced at the mirror and although the tears blurred your vision, you were able to wonder if that was your opportunity of finally having the control of your life back. Maybe it was for the better, you thought as you reached for the small blade you secretly kept on the bathroom window. As you started feeling dizzy by the lack of oxygen, you couldn’t help but to think back to the interaction you exchanged with Spencer before you thought of accepting your brother’s offer. Picturing his face, of himself as a person and as a professional, you thought that, for a moment, he was a reflection of all that you wanted to be, all you wanted for yourself.

The blood that gushed from the open cuts of your arms, that drained from your body, felt like the catharsis you needed from all the mishaps that had taken place in your life. As you watched it dribble down your skin and as it stained the floor, you took a deep, difficult breath, feeling lightheaded. No thoughts swarmed your mind anymore. A sob, from both the dull sting of the cuts and of your difficulty breathing, echoed through the bathroom.

No!, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you.

Finally taking short puffs of breaths, you kept thinking this was it. That it was for the better. That nothing could save you, nothing could stop the blood from cleansing you and taint the floor in the process. You finally shut your eyes as the tears never ceased to flow from your eyes, feeling hands squeezing your arms where you had drawn vertical lines with the blades. From that moment, everything around you felt mixed, the swaying of a vehicle, the alarmed voices, the brightness behind your eyelids. You never opened your eyes. You couldn't bear to open them and still be here, facing the people who were doing their best to help you.

As you lost consciousness, you finally found peace, your mind finally quieted down, the hands stopped touching your body. You thought you managed a weakened smile in your state.

;

Spencer, much like you, didn't keep much track of the time as it passed, for the things in his world happened too fast and burned too bright. As he approached his desk in the bullpen and he was reading through some emails, dread adorning his features and panic setting in the pit of his stomach as he read your brother's name on the screen — whose contact he had gotten after you were admitted in rehab — and the news he was sharing.

;

You didn't know how much time you had spent unconscious. You didn't have any dreams. You didn't have any thoughts. You were completely numb, as if you were surrounded by a bubble that protected you from anything that could possibly happen.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized a hospital room, wires and needles and the unmistakable smell of that place. Looking at your arms, you noticed the bandages that hid the scars that were certainly forming by now, if the dull ache was anything to go by. When you slowly felt reality creeping in, you didn't dare to look up, afraid to find a judgmental or angry look on someone's face. You focused solely on breathing, too frightened of your surroundings.

You gulped and your throat felt so dry that it almost scratched, which made you erupt in a fit of coughs. That drew the attention of a person sitting right next to you, which you hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with someone's reaction.

Slowly looking up, you found Dr. Reid’s face. You couldn't quite begin to read his expression, as his eyes were full of relief once he saw you were still alive. Hanging by a thread, but still alive. You didn't bother to speak after he silently held a bottle of water with a straw on it for you to drink. Neither did he. At least for some amount of time.

“I didn't know how bad this could get. I mean, I do know, but not because of the reason you probably think. It's not just because I have to study human behavior, but also because I was abducted and drugged,” he started, losing the bravery that it took to look you in the eye. “I know you have nothing to do with this. And that it makes me sound very selfish, because, um, I'm here talking about myself when you are so fragile and so broken, but it's just because I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to not recognize yourself. When we talked in that room, for the first time, I felt alive. I felt seen. I felt like I had finally found a little, small, fleeting piece of myself that had wandered too far once I was… addicted.”

You just took in his words. You already knew why he related to you so much, but hearing him talk so freely and unabashedly about his experience made you somewhat perk up. “I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” You managed to mutter in a weak voice.

“It depends on what you think you're going to do now.”

“It's a lot of work.”

“Not if it's you.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“I know a little about your background. My friend looked you up. You looked promising.”

“Yes, past tense. Now I'm just this… vessel of a human. I don't think I have blood, let alone the guts to face the world after this.”

“I'm not calculating your worth on your accomplishments or on the person you used to be.” He sighed, softly.

“Do I even still have worth?”

“Of course you do.”

“Don't waste your breath on me. How could you be so sure?”

“I just do.”

Little did you know, Spencer Reid was not one to pry where it wasn't welcome, but he spent every day letting his mind run to you. He couldn't help but think about you and whether you were actually doing good after the decision you decided to share with him. That was how he found himself having some unsent letters that were soon ripped and thrown away. Telling you about him, wondering about you, wondering if you two could relate on different topics.

“Would it be weird to ask you to trust me on this one?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

For the first time in years, you had a sincere smile on your face.

—

The next day, you woke up to a letter addressed to you, which you knew who it was from.

Your lifeline.

This pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

☆

Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #writersontumblrs #spencer reid self insert #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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noellefan101 · 4 months ago

Text

Not Replaceable

Characters: Alhaitham x GN reader

ft Kaveh and a weighted blanket(bc you can't tell me alhaitham wouldn't sleep with it, and that hes not autistic).

Warnings: not proofread, and definitley ooc but whatever

Note: this is heavily inspired by a fic i saw some months ago, but i cant remember their username and its kinda sad :(

he's been staring at your back for 30 minutes now, you seriously promised it would be dry tomorrow, its the best you can do.

"Haitham.. do you need anything?".

"you already know what i need…".

you looked at the man, and you sweared he looked like a kicked puppy, all because you had to wash his blanket today. you feel sorry for him, but it had to be done.

"yes, i do. but you can't sleep with a," you tried once again to convince him "a big wet piece of cloth" to just try and sleep without it.

"you could also just take multible blankets and stack them, or try to be a normal person like the rest of us" ah, Kaveh walked in, probably to get another cup of coffee, and to annoy Haitham as usual.

"not the same" Alhaitham said almost immediately after Kaveh had spoke, "it doesn't weigh enough, all the ones we have are too light for me to do that" you guess he's right, since it isn't the best to have too many layers of warmth in sumeru's heat.

you and alhaitham dont have that many blankets combined anyway, unless Kaveh woul- "alright! whatever, just dont take all mine like you did last time!" guess he already said no to that option then.

"i didn't take all of yours, just a few, you still had one left" i mean, he is kind of right, as much as you didnt want to agree with that at the moment.

"uggghhh… im going now, solve that yourselves" Kaveh spoke, walking out of the room with a new coffee mug in hand.

"love, are you sure you dont want to just try with the multible blankets?" you wanted to try just one more time, even though you were sure it wasnt going to actually convince him.

"yes" alright, then you dont have any other ideas. so you tried to brainstorm some more, though none would fix the actual problem at hand.

"i could make you some tea? or you could jsut read until you feel tired?" you wanted to help him so bad, but nothing just seemed like it would work. since yours was way too light, and you cant really go out and buy another on eofr him right now.

and his still shouldn't be dry enough to use. "no" he said as you gave out a sigh, you wanted so badly to give up on trying to find a replacement. but you still couldn't let yourself do it, you still wanted to help him actually sleep today.

"are you… sure nothing can work as a replacement, even just for today?" you're sure you looked so defeated at the moment, but it didn't matter now.

"…" silence huh? maybe he's thinking about it, or maybe he gave up as well. you cant really tell, and you're too tired to try understand what's behind those pretty eyes right now.

so you guess you should just-"lay on me" did you hear that right?? "what?" you cant do anything but question him. too focused on figuring what he was trying to do, or if you heard the wrong thing.

"i know you heard me, lay on me" so you weren't just hearing his words incorrectly, "but why would that help?".

"you weigh about enough to work as a weighted blanket" you looked at him surprised, "…excuse me?" you cant help but feel a little annoyed at him. although you knew what he meant know.

"i didn't mean it like that, i swear" he quickly spoke back. coming closer to you, looking worried that he had used the wrong words.

"its okay, im messing with you. i know you wouldn't actually mean it like that" you smiled smugly, letting out a little whimper as he picked you up without warning.

you looked up at him, confused, "i-i," you stuttered out yet couldnt finish the sentence before you felt him pull you in closer to him. "i can walk on my own you know!" it wasnt quite what you had wanted to say, but it would do.

he just looked at you and shrugged then put you gently down on the bed, and then he was laying beside you the moment it had come to you that he put you down.

you both looked right at each other once again, now face to face, in a silence you couldnt quite say was nice but it wasnt unpleasant either. well before he spoke up anyway, "are you going to move or do i have to?".

"huh?" you had already forgot why you were back in your bedroom by now, too focused on his eyes to care at the moment. "okay, i'll lift you up then" oh right, that it why you're here.

"sorry, w-wait atleast give me a warning first!" you wimpered out quickly as he took you up by your torso and put you down onto his chest. "i did give you a warning." you pouted at that.

"not a good enough warning, smartass" you clearly tried to sound stern, as if it mattered at all. but by the way your lips curled up and you just cuddled in closer to him, you clearly didnt mind.

it had been about 10 minutes by now, and you were fast asleep, although alhaitham wasnt quite yet. he was tired, yes, but maybe he had focused too much on you being right there than actually sleeping.

he wasnt complaining, dont get me wrong, but maybe it wasnt the smartest to have you on him when he wasnt suposed to focus on you. you just looked so pretty all curled up on his chest while still trying to cover him up as much as you could, even in your dreams.

he will fall asleep soon, just let him enjoy your sleeping form a little longer.

and yes, he should get a second weighted blanket, but he won't. because he now hopes gets to enjoy a moment like this every time the blanket has to be washed.

thx for reading, this is a very weird whatever but im trying to cook something up i just cant cook rn-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #gn reader #noelle´s maiden #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #kaveh

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hearts4werka · 2 months ago

Text

NNN day 2 | Gothically Yours

summary: you’ve forced your boyfriend to let you do goth makeup on him and the experience turns out to be more fun than he could have expected, leaving both of you giggling while laying on the floor together…

warnings: FLUFF none! Just fluffy soft!bf!chris and his goth girlfriend playing around 😋

authors note: here we goo, second day of NNN done already. this idea was brought to me by @cupiidk1lls and basically all thanks to her for the idea, we’ve been brainstorming over it together too and how it should go. Sorry if this is a bit short too but idk how to make them longer without repeating the same things over and over again lol, hope y’all enjoy

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

I scavenge through my makeup bag, preparing all of the products for a fun little activity I’ve managed to force Chris into today. Doing my style of makeup on him, he as per usual opens a can of pepsi and take a simple sip, we both sit in front of the mirror in my room with a variety of different stickers of my favorite bands and artists adoring the rims and edges of it as quiet rap music plays from the record player I have in my room. It was Chris’s choice today so thats why theres lil skies playong on the background, Ive bought vinyl records of the albums he listens to the most just so both of us can listen to the music we like.

He starts quietly singing along to the song currently playing by the time I turn my head to put on his headband to get his hair out of his face for once. "You like this song?" I ask, turning my head back to my makeup bag. Chuckling at his sudden musical interest, “Of course I like the song, it’s my favorite!” He states cheeringly which makes me giggle, after making sure I have everything I glance back at my canvas for today which is my boyfriend’s face. Grabbing the headband I put it over his head and pull it onto his forehead finally revealing his full face that’s always covered by his long ass hair.

“Finally I can see your full face.” I state slightly teasing, just to mess with him as I place a gentle kiss on his forehead which leaves faint black residue from my lipstick. He looks behind me at himself in the mirror and immediately notices the marks on his forehead, “Whats that on my forehead?” He questions and his eyes land on me and my black lips, already figuring out what it is. A soft chuckle erupts from his throat as he wipes it off with his hand while going back to looking at himself in the mirror. “Bro I look weird as fuck in this headband thingy.” “No, you don’t.” “Just look at me!” He argues and gestures to the mirror for me to look.

I turn my head and glance at him in the mirror, a slight pout playing on his lips. “You look fine, don’t be dramatic.” I reply before moving onto the main task at hand, he puts a hand on his chest for a more dramatic effect. “I’ll be as dramatic as I like, thank you very much.” Chuckling at his statement I pick up the first products and start to work on the base of his makeup. Blending in the products together with a beauty blender, his face already appearing whiter than ever. He glances over my shoulder again at himself in the mirror and decided to drop a comment. “Now I look like Casper the ghost.”

“Stop moving, Chris!” I comment softly, grabbing his face and again making him face me so I can continue my work. He mumbled a quiet “yes ma’am” under his breath before becoming still but I could feel his hands creeping up to rest on my hips to pull me closer to him as soon as I pull my hands way from his face. As I add the powdered products, I go over his nose and he sneezes from the tickle. “What was that?” He asks, glancing down at the brush with powder on it that made him sneeze so suddenly and raises an eyebrow. “It’s just powder, now just stay still in about to do your eyeliner.” I answer, going over his face with the brush again to apply the rest of the powder needed on his face.

Now moving onto the next step which is my favorite and really brings the look together, the eye makeup. I pick up the eyeliner along with a small fluffy brush and my pallet I use everyday. I start of with base eyeshadow, creating a smoky eye before finally opening the eye liner and starting to outline the shape. “How long is it gonna take you to finish?” I chuckle at his slight impatience, deep down I know he wants it to take longer than expected because he secretly enjoyed me doing makeup on him since we always end up as two laughing messes on the ground.

“It’s not gonna take me too long, don’t worry.” Then I go back to doing his eye makeup, now filling in his wing with the black eyeliner. Out of the corner of my eye I notice him admiring me as I do his makeup, I can’t help but let a small smile spread across my face at his eyes constantly being glued to my face. “Y’know you’re cool as fuck. Right?” He asks, tilting his head in question as if he’s never said those words to me. “You’ve told me that before today already.” “I know but I can’t help speaking the truth, ma.” His words earn him a deserved kiss on the lips, a sweet smirk appears on his face as he takes this opportunity to gently tackle me to me the ground and littler multiple kisses on my face.

I start giggling my ass off from the feeling left behind each one of the kisses before finally speaking between laughter. “You’re gonna ruin my makeup!” My words don’t make him surrender and only fuel him more to start tickling my sides, causing me to flinch slightly and intensify my laugh. “My-“ kiss “beautiful-“ kiss “goth-“ kiss “queen.” He says between each and single kiss as my laughter attaches onto him and infect him with my contagious giggles. He drops down next to me on the ground and we start laughing even harder than before completely out of nowhere, our surrounding becoming nonexistent as the only thing that’s left is just our laughing forms on the ground.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - |

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amymbona · 5 months ago

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Can you write something about Patrick with a girl who talks a lot?

You could talk his ears off and still be listening, fucking reading your lips if he has to. Headphones go off when you speak. And you speak a lot. You're aware, right, you have a little rambling problem. But you just have a lot to say about every single topic!

In class, you always talk the most, constantly raising your hand and contributing when the professors allows you. You choose different topics and make the longest presentations just so you could tell everyone all that you've managed to remember. And, what's best you keep Patrick interested. He's genuinely been putting a lot more effort into learning and preparing for classes, especially when he's in your presence. Even when you're talking about a difficult topic, about something you don't understand, you keep brainstorming out loud. Every single math equation you solve, you keep mumbling under your breath.

"Alright, both sides are divisible by two so we can do that, mhm, then five-x goes onto the other side. No, no, no, the other way. Three-y goes there. Yup. Now five x minus two x. Oh! We can divide that by three, mhm."

And Patrick is listening. He's fucking sitting there on your bed, eyes glued to the glasses that keep sliding down youe nose, watching as you lick your lips and nod, encouraging yourself that you're doing it the right way. And, fuck, you look fucking stunning sitting there in your little shorts and working on your stupid math problems.

There's never a silent moment with you. You're a bubbly extrovert, making sure that no meeting leaves the two of you in awkward silence. You always find a topic to talk about, even if it's just the weather, and sometimes Patrick gets annoyed that you're paying so much attention to everything around you, always finding topics to talk about that you kinda forget he's here, next to you.

"Do you ever shut up?"

He doesn't mean it in a bad way, not even considering talking rudely to you. But the sentence slips past his lips before he could stop it.

"What?" your head snaps towards Patrick, lips parting in confusion. Did you hear him right?

But apparently, there's no going back for Patrick. Not now. "You talk a lot."

Oh. Your mouth closes slowly and eventually, after a few seconds of processing his words, you nod, gazing down at your lap. "Yeah, um, I guess, yeah. I guess I do. Sorry."

Fuck. You look like you're about to cry right now. Like you're about to shatter into pieces because now, at this moment, you realise how much you've really been talking. Not just around Patrick, but around everyone else too. You always talk, pulling all the attention to yourself and the things you see, that you don't give anyone else a chance to speak their mind.

Patrick shifts closer, his thigh pressing into yours. He absolutely didn't mean that. He never wanted to see you cry.

"No, no, no, listen," he begins, panicking at the glossy sight of your eyes. Fuck, he's really messed up this time. "I meant it like... You talk about everything. Everything around you. But never about me."

About him? And why would you possibly have to talk about Patrick?

"About you?" you mutter, gaze nervously raising to settle on his freckled face. "You... You want me to talk about you?"

"Yes," he nods.

"But why? I mean... We talk about you, don't we? About tennis, about Art... There's a lot of stuff we mention, isn't it?" you keep murmuring bashfully, once again prolonging your speech despite trying to hold back.

Patrick shakes his head and takes one of your hands in his. "That's not me, that's different topics."

"Then what is you, Patrick?" you wonder.

"I'm me, Y/N. I don't want to talk about the weather or some random shit. I want to talk about me, about you. About us."

"Us?" you gulp, eyes flicking between his own. Apparently, his words are still not settling in your brain in the right way.

"You're so stupid sometimes," Patrick sighs, balling both of your hands into little fists and resting his shoulder on your knuckles. For how much you talk, your mind seems so empty all of a sudden.

"What do you mean, Patrick? I'm sorry, I just don't really understand you, like, we've never talked about this before. I thought we like talking together? We're on the same wavelength and we-"

You're roughly shut up by Patrick grasping your face in his hands and pressing his lips against yours, effectively interrupting your speech. He's desperate, really, and don't know what else to do to just shut your mouth for a while.

And after a moment, his lips begin moving slowly, parting and ghosting over yours in a gentle kiss. His hold on your head loosens and fingers slide over your cheeks which have surely heated up at the sudden gesture. That's definitely not what you expected to happen.

It takes a while for Patrick to pull away, a thin trail of saliva hanging from your lips as he does so, leaving you completely flabbergasted. He chuckles at your flustered expression, running over your lips with his thumb.

"Sorry. I just had to shut you up somehow."

#challengers #patrick zweig #josh o'connor #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig blurb #ask #send asks #challengers x reader #challengers x you

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shiny-jr · 30 days ago

Note

Any updates on the damnation au ,’)

Actually, yes, there is. Some good news, some bad news. But I'll put this off now, to get it off my shoulders. This is an important damnation update!

Let's start with the good news, shall we? The good news is, Ignihyde is less than ten pages away from completion. I have been able to write a bit for it recently, so steadily that number is going up. It has taken a while to get back into the groove of things, as it's been so long since I've written anything and I had to reread what I had, reflect and brainstorm, all that jazz. However, progress is being made slowly but surely.

Additionally, the follower count is getting closer and closer to 8,000. Like, very close. It's like I'm sitting here, yapping mostly, ranting, and occasionally putting out a post, only for new readers to go "okay, I like this" and follow, despite me not being able to post much. At this exact moment of me writing this, the follower count is 7,821 and usually soon I start reblogging previous damnation results leading up to the moment I will post the new result.

Now, notice I have yet to say anything about Diasomnia. That is because I have yet to begin writing for it, despite the ideas I already have for it.

I want to be real for a moment, and saying that this has generated some anxiety for me, which is never good.

I don't want this fun hobby to become a burden I learn to dread. There's many things I worry about. I won't be able to come anywhere near completion for Diasomnia in time, it'll be rushed and be a horrible ending to an otherwise decent series I'm mostly proud of. At this point to being so close to finishing Ignihyde's damnation story, I worry that it's not good enough. That it's nothing compared to the previous endings. That it won't be well received.

These thoughts about Ignihyde's part are something I often experience before posting something major I've worked on for a while, which I expected. I will go through with Ignihyde, as it should be done well before the milestone is reached. At the pace things are going, I will not be forcing myself to hurry to start and finish Diasomnia.

I do not want to make a mess of things, and create some unsatisfactory ending. That's why, for now, Diasomnia's ending will be delayed. I wish to write a good story, at least to the best of my ability, and I cannot do that in a time crunch while under pressure. I'm sorry if this is disappointing news. I hope I can make up for this in a good Diasomnia damnation ending later on, but not now.

Further updates for damnation, the Ignihyde ending, will be posted soon. Thank you for reading this long announcement.

#shiny speaks #damnation twst au

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in1-nutshell · 10 months ago

Text

Megatron's kid meets MTMTE Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Familial, from the polls, Romantic, Cybertronian reader

G1/MTMTE

All Buddy wanted was a nice ‘date night’ with Rumble.

Buddy and Rumble’s schedules for the past month had been packed with things, making it hard to take time for each other.

Luckily, they finally made an opening on both schedules.

Buddy walking down the halls with Rumble.

“So, what movie do you want to see this time?”--Rumble

“Hmm… don’t know…”--Buddy

“Aw, c’mon Buddy you always have a movie on your processor. I’m sure you can think of one that doesn’t stink.”--Rumble

“Excuse you—”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Rumble

Buddy gives him a fond smile before patting his helm.

Rumble playfully swats it.

“Hey! What did we talk about that!”--Rumble

“Well, you were asking for it.”—Buddy

That’s when the floor beneath Rumble suddenly disappeared. Swirling colors replaced the purple and grey floor.

Buddy didn’t think twice about jumping in after him desperately latching onto the ledge of the portal.

Which was a personal feat.

The commotion had brought the attention of some nearby Decepticon who were already running towards them.

But the second Rumble’s servo slipped, Buddy let go of the edge and went after him.

Everything was swirls of pink and green until Buddy blacked out.

Rumble woke up to a bunch of Autobots looking at him.

“GAH!”--Rumble

Rumble stands up with his pliers ready.

He looks around at some familiar looking Bots and some unfamiliar looking ones.

“Rumble? Is that you?”--Ravage

“Who’s asking—Ravage?!”--Rumble

Ravage walks closer to him.

He sniffs before scrunching his muzzle.

“You’re not Rumble.”--Ravage

“And you’re not Ravage, he can’t talk.”--Rumble

“That’s because you’re not from here.”--Brainstorm

Rumble looks at the teal mech.

“And who are you suppose’ta be?”--Rumble

“I’m Brainstorm! And the reason why you and your companion are here.”--Brainstorm

“What?”--Rumble

“He is a scientist, and he was messing with that blasted suit case again.”--Ravage

“What suitcase?”--Rumble

“It travels dimensions, to put it simple terms.”--Megatron

Rumble turns to see Megatron.

“PRIMUS! When did you get this big! Come to think about it, most you guys are taller here…”--Rumble

“As Ravage was saying, Brainstorm accidentally brought you and someone else from your dimension to this one.”--Megatron

“Wait, did you say someone else? But who…”--Rumble

Rumble gets rid of his pliars to shake his helm with both servos.

“Oh, course that dumb, selfless, stinking, loveable dummy would jump in after me!”--Rumble

“Loveable?”--Megatron

“Buddy jumped in after me!”--Rumble

“Who’s Buddy?”--Megatron

Rumble fully stops and stares at Megatron.

“Buddy? Your Buddy? My Buddy! Ringing any bells!”--Rumble

Megatron shakes his helm.

“Never heard of a bot named ‘Buddy’ before.”—Rodimus

“… No wonder you lost the war.”--Rumble

Rumble looking accusingly at the Autobot badge on Megatron’s chassis.

Megatron just vents tiredly.

“We should keep an optic out for this ‘Buddy’ you speak of then.”--Brainstorm

“That shouldn’t be too hard, just look for another mini and that’s it.”--Rodimus

“Who said Buddy was a minicon? And no, we aren’t going to find them.”—Rumble

“What do you mean?”—Megatron

“They’re going to find us, or at least make some noise—“--Rumble

Swerve comes through the doors

“Something came out of the oil reserves and is shooting everything! It’s like the creature from the Black Lagoon if it was armed!”--Swerve

“That’s Buddy.”--Rumble

Buddy venting heavily with their optics trained on the mechs in front of them.

Then they see Rumble.

“Rumble!”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Rumble

Buddy clicks the blaster.

“I swear if you don’t let him go—Megatron? Ravage? What’s going on?”--Buddy

Buddy sees the Autobot badge.

“What is this!”--Buddy

Rumble comes running to them in a hug.

Buddy, one arm hugs him back but doesn’t take their optics off of the mechs.

“Buddy, Buddy put down the blaster. We can explain this.”--Rumble

Buddy not budging.

“Buddy.”--Rumble

Buddy finally venting before putting both blasters away still holding onto Rumble.

“You better.”--Buddy

Buddy continues to glare at Megatron and Ravage.

After a quick trip to the wash racks, Buddy was finally caught up on the whole situation.

As well as hearing more facts about this universe’s war and Megatron.

Buddy and Ruble in exchange told them a bit about their universe and their war.

Buddy couldn’t lie when they’d say that they were a bit jealous that this war was over.

Even if the Decepticon’s didn’t win, at least it was over.

More and more bots and cons started working together and finding themselves again.

That was something Buddy wanted more than anything.

A peaceful future with Rumble and their family.

A bit whimsical, but it never hurts to be optimistic.

While the science department managed to find a way for Buddy and Rumble to get back home, the two were made honorary members of the Lost Light.

The pair got along well with some of the bots on bourd even making friends.

Buddy did manage to get some one-on-one time with Megatron.

Was it awkward for the both at first?

Yes.

Did they get past it?

Yes, after a joint poetry session and story sharing moment, the two rarely seem too far apart.

Did Megatron get attached to this young bot?

Yes.

He didn’t know how, but he felt comfortable around this bot. Almost as if he knew them for their entire life.

He couldn’t explain it with reason, but it felt nice.

Buddy was in turn fond of this ‘pacifist’ version of their father.

They knew well that any Megatron would have some sort of rage underneath layers of masks. This one just seemed to be much more in tune with it, or at least learning to.

Now there were two things that both Rumble and Buddy forgot to mention to the crew.

That Buddy was Megatron’s offspring.

And the both were dating.

But the crew found out…eventually…

“What about you two?”--Whirl

“What about us?”--Buddy

Whirl drapes a servo around Buddy’s shoulders, getting an angry look from Rumble.

“You two seem to be attached to the hip ever since Brainstorm brought ya here. Why?”--Whirl

“Whirl don’t tease them.”--Cyclonus

“What do you mean?”--Buddy

Whirl vents dramatically.

“Are you or are you not Junixies with the minicon?”--Whirl

“Whirl!”—Buddy and Rumble

Rumble looks a bit nervous while Buddy is trying to keep their composure.

“We haven’t done that…”--Buddy

“I mean if you want to.”--Rumble

Buddy nearly has whiplash when they turn to Rumble.

“What?”--Buddy

Rumble getting even more anxious.

“I...I…”--Rumble

“Spit it out! Or if your too chicken, I’ll just ask them myself.”--Whirl

Rumble looks angrily at Whirl before shouting.

“SO, WHAT IF I DO WANT BUDDY AS MY CONJUX!?”--Rumble

Silence.

“Rumble… Rumble do you mean that?”--Buddy

Rumble turns to Buddy who looks scared yet hopeful.

“Ye-yeah. If you’d have me?”--Rumble

Buddy lets out an ungodly squeal while hugging Rumble hard and shouting ‘YES!’ over and over again.

“I can’t wait to tell Megatron this!”--Buddy

“I’m right here? And congratulations.”--Megatron

“No, my Megatron, my father. Oh! We would need to do all of this in the base—”--Buddy

“Excuse me what?!”--Rodimus

“We would need to do the ceremony—”--Buddy

“Not that!”--Rodimus

Rodimus pointing at Megatron.

“You’re telling us Megs is your father?!”--Rodimus

“Yes?”--Buddy

Swerve in the background playing a Murray clip ‘You are the father’.

Megatron exe. Needs to reboot please try again later.

He is about to ask more about this when Brainstorm comms in saying the portal was back open but wasn’t going to be for long.

Buddy quickly grabbed Rumble, shook some servos, and added a hug here and there before sprinting to the lab.

The others followed suite.

They made it just in time.

“I know this isn’t exactly formal or proper, but the portals about to close, so BYE!”--Buddy

Rumble waving from where he was being carried.

“See ya later losers!”--Rumble

Buddy tightens their grip on Rumble as they jumped into the portal as it closed.

Meanwhile in the Decepticon base…

“What do you mean they dived into the floor?!”--Megatron

“I mean they dived into the floor!”--Starscream

“Status: Unknown. Continue search.”--Soundwave

“They will show up one way or another…”--Megatron

“Please Megatron, they would—”--Starscream

Buddy and Rumble popping above Starscream, properly flattening him.

Muffled screams.

Rumble poking out of Buddy’s arms with servo raised.

“THEY SAID YES!”--Rumble

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #transformers g1 #g1 rumble #mtmte megatron #g1 transformers x platonic reader #tf rumble x reader

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helsensm · 1 year ago

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Sorry to bug ya again but my brainstorm is actin up again! Could be writing this on paper, but writers block. Got inspiration thanks to the Kung Lao dies art (all of them are amazing!), but thinking of the events before it happens. Once again on my Liu Kang mess because he's becoming the tragic god figure now. I'm imagining Liu Kang starts getting a pseudo MK9 mess going on. Not that he receives a message from his future self, but a serious case of "wait, this happened before! AND ITS GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN!?!?!". Liu Kang starts seeing the signs of Kung Lao potentially dying again in his new timeline. Cue Liu Kang struggling with showing restraint by not interfering with matters, hoping that he's just getting paranoid and seeing things that are not there, and Liu trying to prevent Kung Laos death. He doesn't want to loose his friend again, even though they're not as close as they used to be. Bonus drama if Liu Kang becomes a bit too protective of Kung Lao and Lao starts thinking that Liu Kang does trust him anymore (thinking on the Arcade ending for Kung Lao where his pride nearly cost him his student) and starts getting frustrated. So when the inevitable starts to encroach, Kung Lao ends up getting himself killed as he tries to show that he can be trusted by Raiden and Liu Kang again. I'm sorry if this sounds incoherent and silly, I just got a lot of emotions for Fire God Liu Kang the the potential angst he carries

yes, good, very good, thank you for your food, friend 👁👁

I want to believe that after the Shujinko accident Kung Lao will start to realize, that he don't need to do everything all by himself and always perfect to prove his worth, and it's okay to ask for help, and believe in your friends, and listen to their advices, and- sorry, kinship by the inferiority complex got me. But as far as we know, no one except Cassy goes to therapy in the mk world, so that won't be enough for my man to start his character improvement journey. So yes, Liu Kang's protectiveness will def trigger his "must prove myself, must get approval" response.

The question is - how much Liu Kang will blame himself, when he realizes?.. 🤔 Poor man lost his timeline and just wanted to create one where everyone is happier. but here we are, creating drama and problems for him in our little gay app ggjhhh

<<< prev | next >>>

#oops Kung Lao's dead again au #...I need to find a better name for it #my asks #my art #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat 9 #mk9 #symbolism... save me.. symbolism. save me symbolism #mk raiden #helsensm art

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writingduhh · 1 year ago

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Jschlatt || When He’s Sick (HC)

▷ I bet sick Schlatt grumbles and complains about his symptoms, repeatedly emphasizing how sick he feels.

▷ Making dramatic remarks such as, “I’ve never been so sick.” , “I’m dying.” , or “this is it y/n… this is the end.” Before staging a dramatic coughing fit.

▷ He insists on wearing his most comfortable and slightly ridiculous-looking pajamas when he's sick. (He still looks good tho)

▷ Him sneezing like a confused old man… (if you’ve seen the chuckle sammy episode you’ll get it)

▷ Despite being tough, when he's sick, his soft vulnerable side comes out.

▷ Craves extra physical affection and comfort from you whilst he’s sick.

"Y/N," a voice calls out, whining for your presence.

"Yes?" You ask, peeping your head through the slightly open door.

There, you find Schlatt curled up in your shared bed, tissues overflowing on the bedside table, and blankets piled on top of him.

“I need to clean the kitchen up. It’s a mess from this weekend -“

Before you can react, he cuts you off.

"I'll help you clean it later. Please, just come and lay with me. I want you." He pouts, pulling his best 'puppy dog eyes.'

"Oh, alright," you playfully grumble, making your way towards him.

He grins, opening his arms out toward you.

"If you're the sick one, shouldn't I be the big spoon?" you teasingly remark.

"Huh, I guess that makes sense," he agrees, face planting onto your chest while his arms snake around your torso.

"You're such a nerd," you chuckle, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I'll only let you get away with that because I love you and I'm too sick to do anything," he says, his voice mumbled as he rests on your chest.

▷ He definitely keeps himself wrapped in a blanket. Whether he’s laying down or walking through the house, he’s got a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

▷ I can imagine him being quite needy while sick.

▷ He follows you around the house like a lost puppy. Even after you’ve told him to go to bed a hundred times.

You sat at the kitchen counter typing away on your computer. You had an important project deadline coming up. After days of brainstorming a thesis you had found the perfect one. The words seemingly poured out of your mind and right onto the screen

Suddenly you felt pressure on your shoulder followed by two blanket covered arms wrapping around you.

“J what are you doing up? I told you go back to bed.”

“I know, I just want you. I’m so lonely.” He dramatically sighs.

“You have the cats.”

“They’re not as good at cuddling as you are.”

“Oh alright.” You sigh, pushing yourself away from the desk.

You were suddenly lifted off the ground, wrapped up in schlatts blanket as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

“What are you doing?! You’re sick.”

He didn’t respond. He gently laid you down against the pillows before crawling onto the bed himself, laying his head on your stomach as the rest of his body lay in-between your legs.

“There we go. That’s much better.” He contently sighs, wrapping his arms around your lower back.

“Such a weirdo.” You playfully scoff as you run your hands through his hair.

▷ The two of you have an evening ‘sick day’ ritual/tradition whenever one of you falls ill. You order in some soup (or what ever he’ll eat because he’s so picky)

▷ He tends to be wide awake at odd hours due to discomfort. This leads to late-night conversations with you… Well more like him asking you stupid questions.

#chuckle sandwich #chuckle sammy #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt imagines #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt x you #schlatt hcs #schlatt x you #schlatt imagine #schlatt x reader #schlatt #hc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for seasoning my mom's food behind her back?

I (F23) recently moved back in with my mom (F51) and stepdad (M50) after having a baby and getting dumped by my ex. Stepdad and I both work and my mom stays home to take care of my baby, and we get along great. But I started noticing that the dinners my mom cook are very, very bland. I said something to my stepdad and he just sighed and said he's not gonna start that argument up again.

I joined my mom in the kitchen one day while she was cooking dinner (hamburger helper) and she salted the meat and that was it. I asked if she was gonna put any other seasoning on it and she said no, because she's using the seasoning packet from the box, and she mixed in a little sausage and that already has seasoning, plus she's gonna grate extra cheese to it. I pointed out if she's only seasoning the meat and then draining the grease off she's draining off most of the seasoning she did. She snapped at me to go away and let her cook.

Since then I've been brainstorming with my stepdad about what the heck is going on with her. She wasn't like this when I was a kid, we had a fully stocked spice cabinet and she used it to the fullest. She STILL has a fully stocked spice cabinet, she just hardly uses it. I asked him if she's on a new health kick? No, not that he's noticed. New directions from her doctor? No, he goes with her to doctor's appointments and they haven't said anything about her diet. Did she develop a new allergy? No, she uses everything in the spice cabinet, just very rarely. Have you tried talking to her about it? Yes, he did. He didn't do any better with her than I did. Ok, can we at least add some extra seasoning to our own bowls? No, absolutely not. She'll be livid if you do.

So, recently I've taken it upon myself to help my mom with dinner and sneak seasonings into whatever she's cooking when she's not looking. It's been going on for a couple months and she hasn't said anything, beyond a couple smug comments about how good of a cook she is where stepdad and I just exchange knowing glances.

I mentioned this story to a couple of my friends and one laughed and said I was a genius, but the other said I was an asshole for messing with someone's diet without them knowing. I reassured them that she doesn't have any allergies or health problems, and it's not like I'm sneaking unknown harmful substances into her food. Just spices from her own kitchen. They said it doesn't matter and you never mess with someone's food behind their back, so I'm looking for other opinions. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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kangshxrtie · 3 months ago

Text

ch. 23 ⤍ left 4 dead

you switched the screen from the "starting soon" animation to your face cam, flashing a quick smile before going into your introduction.

"i honestly have no idea what i'm doing today," you confessed to the stream, leaning back in your chair. "so it would be really great if one of my friends watching could hop on and play games with me."

almost instantly, a message popped up in chat.

jenaissante am i one of your friends 👉🏼👈🏼

"i would assume so. would you like to play games with me, yunjin?"

jenaissante yes pls jenaissante i'm getting food rn jenaissante inv me though

you only saw the first message and didn't invite her, instead scrolling through the chat, searching for someone else.

_chaechae_1 can i play?

"yeah, of course, chaewon," you replied casually.

jenaissante how dare u say yes to chaewon when i asked u first

you squinted at the screen, confused. "wait, did you say something? i didn't see it."

jenaissante fake —permanently banned

your eyes widened. "wait, shit! i didn't mean to ban you, i was trying to check the logs!" you broke into a laugh as you quickly unbanned her.

jenaissante just say u don't fk with me

"i swear i didn't see it! you said you were getting food, then 'invite me' a second later. how was i supposed to know?"

jenaissante can't believe you hate me

"just get your food and join us," you said.

jenaissante okay

you hopped on a call with chaewon, brainstorming what games to play. the two of you tossed out random suggestions, but each idea was quickly shot down due to the number of players needed or a lack of interest in the game. finally, yunjin joined the call—still eating, so not much help in the decision-making process.

"let's play left 4 dead 2," you suggested, scrolling through your steam library.

"isn't that for four players?" chaewon asked.

"yeah, but how hard can it be to find one more?" you shrugged. with everyone in agreement, you immediately started looking for a fourth.

"i've got a fourth!" you announced.

"who?" yunjin asked, curious.

"just a girl i know," you said cryptically.

"what girl?" yunjin pressed.

"you'll find out when she gets here"

"wait... is it kazuha?" chaewon guessed.

"uh, no, she's busy today," you replied.

"oh, right," chaewon nodded in understanding.

suddenly, yujin joined the call with a loud ping, interrupting the conversation.

"oh, it's just yujin," chaewon said casually.

"just yujin?" yujin echoed, clearly offended.

"not like that!" chaewon chuckled. "y/n was talking about you like you were some random girl we'd never met."

"i literally said she's a girl i know, which isn't a lie," you defended.

you booted up the game and invited chaewon, yunjin, and yujin to your lobby. everyone picked their characters as you fiddled with the settings.

"what difficulty should i pick?" you asked the group.

"maybe advanced?" yujin suggested.

"or, you know, maybe normal?" chaewon said, her voice laced with caution.

"we can handle expert. we've got this," yunjin declared confidently.

"can we, though?" you asked, skeptical.

"of course! we're pro gamers," yunjin insisted.

"you know what? you're right. expert it is," yujin agreed, backing her up.

"i don't agree with this at all, but sure," chaewon muttered.

sighing, you set the difficulty to expert, not trusting yunjin or yujin at all but just wanting to see what happens.

user2 we'll see how long that lasts user3 "they're not even lasting a minute" is winning the polls by a landside rn user4 betting all my points on them losing rn

the game loaded in, and as usual, you all messed with the controls to get comfortable. scanning the ground, you grabbed a weapon and glanced at everyone else's characters.

"wait... why is chaewon's character kinda hot?" you remarked suddenly.

"huhhhh?" yunjin blurted, totally caught off guard.

"y/n, you can't just say stuff like that," yujin laughed, trying to hold it in.

"i'm serious!" you continued. "her character just backed it up on me. y'all need to see this from my point of view."

as the first wave of zombies swarmed in, everything fell apart in record time. chaewon screamed as she died almost immediately, yujin calmly took out a few zombies, while yunjin panicked because of chaewon's freakout—only to die herself. you were just trying to help, but it was too late. you all died in less than a minute.

you quickly went to adjust the difficulty. "normal or advanced?" you asked, trying not to laugh.

"we died so fast!" yunjin laughed, still in disbelief.

"we can handle advanced," yujin suggested.

"no, we cannot," chaewon said, her voice sounding genuinely scared.

you set the difficulty to normal for the sake of chaewon, who seemed like she was actually traumatized from the previous events.

"no, we cannot," chaewon said, her voice sounding genuinely scared.

"everyone on the roller coaster," yunjin instructed, already making her way up the tracks.

you followed, but when yunjin turned around, she noticed chaewon still struggling at the bottom. "she's down there alone. she's not gonna make it."

"i am!" chaewon yelled, her voice laced with panic as she fought off the swarm of zombies below, while the rest of you were already perched at the top of the roller coaster tracks, watching her struggle.

"you gotta get up here!" yujin called out, her tone urgent.

"i'm trying!" chaewon replied, breathless.

"she's actually not gonna make it," you observed dryly.

before long, zombies started appearing at the top of the tracks, forcing all of you to engage in a fight. yujin was downed causing yunjin to freak out and looked to see chaewon stuck below, trying to fend off zombies and ultimately getting downed herself.

without hesitation, yunjin leapt down to save her. "i'll save you, chaewon!" she shouted, helping her back to her feet.

as soon as chaewon was revived, she announced, "i have a defibrillator! i can save yujin!"

meanwhile, yunjin called out, "i'm about to die!" as she sprinted up the roller coaster tracks.

"please don't," you muttered as you yourself were downed.

"y/n!" yunjin screamed from the other side of the tracks, panic evident in her voice.

yunjin and chaewon fought desperately to fend off the incoming horde, trying to revive at least one of you. but in the end, yunjin got downed too, leaving only chaewon to fight.

"teamwork did not make the dream work, yikes," you commented, leaning back in your chair.

"that's toxic, y/n," yunjin groaned.

"i'm coming back!" yunjin exclaimed as chaewon managed to help her back up.

"please don't," you deadpanned.

they finally revived yujin, but the zombie horde was relentless. despite your best efforts, it wasn't enough, and you were all taken down by the overwhelming hoard. the level had to be restarted, but at least you managed to beat it on the second try.

now that you all were in a safe room, the group decided it was time for a quick break before the next round. you took this time to turn your attention to chat, seeing a chat from kazuha causing you to smile at it.

k_a_z_u_h_a__ ain't no way ur playing with my roommates & not me rn

"are you jealous?" you asked in a teasing tone.

k_a_z_u_h_a__ and if i was?

"i would have invited you, but you were busy," you replied with a grin.

k_a_z_u_h_a__ :( k_a_z_u_h_a__ still messed up

user2 should we leave 🤨

"i'll play games with you next time then."

k_a_z_u_h_a__ :) k_a_z_u_h_a__ that works k_a_z_u_h_a__ gotta film now... k_a_z_u_h_a__ i'll miss u

"bye, kazuha. go do your job," you said, waving at the camera with a smile.

once kazuha logged off, you responded to a few more questions about the game and joked with your chat before the break ended. then it was time to lock back in for the next round.

"chaewon, behind you!" yunjin shouted, swinging a baseball bat wildly at the zombie chasing after chaewon's character. "this thing's so fast!"

chaewon let out a scream once she finally noticed, firing her gun with her eyes squeezed shut. somehow, she managed to kill the zombie.

"i got it, chae!" yunjin said triumphantly, smacking the now-dead zombie one last time for good measure.

"oh wow, thanks a lot," chaewon replied sarcastically. "really saved my life there."

before yunjin could respond, a spitter grabbed her character. "wait, huh? chae, help!" she called out, struggling.

chaewon just burst out laughing, watching yunjin's character get dragged away.

"why are you laughing? help me!" yunjin begged, "my character's gonna die! do something!"

chaewon kept laughing, only stepping in after yunjin's health hit was completely down.

"i was actually dying, and you just stood there laughing like a maniac," yunjin grumbled. "even after i saved you."

"oh, that was funny," chaewon said, still catching her breath.

a little later, yujin came up to you, wielding a chainsaw as you took down the last zombie in sight only for yujin to swing the chainsaw at you.

"what the fuck!" you yelped.

"oh, sorry! thought you were a zombie," yujin said with fake innocence.

"no, you didn't. don't lie to me," you laughed.

"i'm serious, i couldn't tell the difference!" yujin insisted.

"yeah, sure," you replied, shaking your head.

eventually, you all reached the safe room, the mid-level stats appeared on screen, detailing the damage each of you had dealt. once your characters were back in view, everyone reloaded their weapons, patched up any wounds, and stocked up on ammo and supplies, prepping for the next onslaught.

"alright, last level. let's go," yunjin said with determination prompting you to open the door.

"yippee! last level!" chaewon cheered, her voice full of excitement.

"we're professionals now," yunjin boasted confidently, with chaewon echoing, "professional gamers!"

"seasoned at this point," yunjin added.

the mood was light as you ventured out, shooting the few zombies that outside near the safe room. things were manageable until chaewon's panicked scream rang out.

"behind us! oh god, they're behind us!"

user5 instant chaos 😭

you whipped around, guns blazing as yujin tossed a boomer bile into the horde, and you got out of there following behind chaewon who was now heading up some bleachers. as you were a prompt came up to start the stage lighting.

"do i start this?" yunjin asked, eyeing a prompt to activate the stage lights. before anyone could answer, she hit it.

"oh—we have to survive here," yujin noted, already scanning for a place to take cover.

"there's some medkits up here!" chaewon called out.

the notification flashed across the screen: rescue is coming! defend yourselves.

"alright! where are we holding out?" yunjin asked.

"under the main stage," yujin suggested, and both you and chaewon agreed.

with that, the fight began. molotovs flew, bullets sprayed, and zombies kept pouring in, all while the stage lights burst like fireworks overhead.

"yujin, behind you!" yunjin yelled, saving her from a sneak attack.

"thank you," yujin replied, barely catching her breath.

"i got the right side!" chaewon called out, steady in her role.

"i got all the sides... except for the ones i don't," yunjin quipped.

"we're literally destroying them," yujin remarked confidently. "this is easy."

"too easy," yunjin agreed.

just as the lights flickered out and the zombies seemed to stop coming, you were about to relax.

"that's... it?" you muttered.

"i knew we would end them," yujin said proudly.

you were about to reply when chaewon's voice cut through. "guys..."

"it's just one. we'll mow it down," yunjin said dismissively.

"yeah," chaewon echoed.

as you focused on the tank approaching, chaos struck again—a jockey rode yujin, dragging her health down fast. you quickly intervened, freeing her before returning your attention to the tank.

"wait... it's not dying," yunjin exclaimed in disbelief, continuing to unload bullets.

"he's so big," chaewon groaned.

"oh, wait, it is now!" yunjin cried as the tank finally fell, everyone cheering as victory seemed close.

but then, another swarm appeared. zombies flooded the bleachers, and yujin was slammed to the ground by a charger. chaewon, wielding an axe, rushed in to save her, only to face yet another tank. the group barely managed to set it on fire and take it down as the rescue helicopter appeared overhead.

another notification flashed across the screen: rescue has arrived! get aboard

you and chaewon scrambled up the bleachers while yujin held her own on stage, fighting off the remaining zombies. but just as she made it to you, chaewon was downed. yunjin ran to help but got downed herself.

yujin threw a molotov to clear the area but ended up setting both you and chaewon on fire in the process. "both chaewon and yunjin are down! we can't go without them," yujin said urgently.

"i'm coming, give me a sec!" you yelled as you fought through the flames to revive yunjin.

"just run to the helicopter!" you shouted once yunjin was back on her feet.

as you made your escape, yunjin got downed again. yujin, torn between survival and saving her friend, paused. "i can't leave without her!" she cried, fighting off zombies. but eventually, she gave in. "actually, i might have to leave her," yujin said, backing away.

"yujin! what the fuck!" yunjin shouted as yujin left her behind.

"sorry, i gotta put me first," yujin quipped as she headed to the helicopter with you and chaewon.

"wait, we can't leave without chaewon," you said.

"you right, we can't leave her, and by we i mean you two" yujin agreed staying near the helicopter, far from the danger.

"i have a defibrillator!" you said, rushing to revive yunjin.

"alright, i'll cover you," chaewon promised, while yujin hung back in her safe zone.

you called for help, taking damage while trying to get yunjin up. "wait, help me!"

chaewon hesitated but eventually stepped forward, just as yujin climbed into the helicopter. "pilot, you can leave now."

"what do you mean, leave?" you snapped.

before you knew it, the helicopter left with only yujin aboard. the sound of her triumphant laughter echoed in your headset.

"yujin, you left?!" chaewon's disbelief was palpable.

"ain't no way," yunjin muttered.

in memory of:

chaechae jenaissante gameryn

"i went to get a medkit for chaewon, and they killed me for it," yunjin said.

"in memory of us minus yujin's bitch ass" you said.

"don't worry, you'll be going in the autobiography for sure," yujin reassured like that meant anything.

"it's so on brand. yujin would leave us in a zombie apocalypse," chaewon sighed.

yujin just laughed in response.

"wow. you're not even gonna try and defend yourself?" you asked, incredulous.

"y'all wouldn't believe me anyway," yujin said casually.

"damn right! you left us!" yunjin exclaimed.

"if we ever end up in this situation for real, i'm sacrificing you first," you said firmly.

"fair," yujin responded, still laughing.

after the game, the group spent a few minutes laughing and recapping the best moments, mentioning yujin's betrayal and the chaos that ensued. once everyone said their goodbyes and left the call, you sighed in relief, finally able to settle in for some one-on-one time with your chat to debrief without the noise of the rest of the group.

user6 yujin really said "every man for himself" lmao

user7 ofc yujin would be the one to leave

user8 yujin's betrayal arc, wow...

user9 left 4 dead (literally)

user0 no mercy, no loyalty, just vibes

user1 yujin's so real for that

“never inviting yujin to another lobby again,” you declared, shaking your head. you spent a few moments catching up on donations and responding to messages you missed during the game before wrapping up the stream with your usual outro.

ALL CHAPTERS !!! | NEXT CH !!!

#nakamura kazuha x reader #le sserafim x reader #kazuha x reader #nakamura kazuha #ive x reader #kazuha #le sserafim #gxg #kpop #ahn yujin #kim chaewon #huh yunjin

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suckerfordylansstuff · 5 months ago

Text

New Journey (S.H.) Chapter 4 Season 4

Pairing: Steve Harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Back to Hawkins for spring break. Y/n believed it would just be a quiet time to cherish with her loved ones, but one day in and another mess had already began.

Warnings: cursing

Notes: Really enjoyed writing this chapter, especially because of all the small bickering moments between the characters. More of that will come in the next chapters. I hope you enjoy and stay safe out there! 💕

Chapter 3 << Masterlist >> Chapter 5

The next day rose, and your first stop was at the market to pick up some food and drinks for Eddie. You were simply chatting with your friends as you opened the door to the lake house not expecting to find a startled Eddie on the other side, the broken beer bottle once again in his hand.

“Delivery service.” your brother said in a light voice as he held up the grocery bags in his hands.

Eddie relaxed and thanked you before grabbing the bags off Dustin’s hands, rushing to see what you got him. He sat on the ground and began stuffing his face with the food.

“So, we got, uh, some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?” the rest of you settled around him listening to Dustin explaining what happened after they left him last night.

“Bad news first, always.”

“All right. Bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you. Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

“Like, a 100% kind of convinced.” Max pointed out.

“And the good news?” Eddie asked, hoping for something to ease his nerves.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.” Robin told him and the guy responded with bitterness in his words.

“Hunt the freak, right?”

“Something like that.” you nodded.

“Shit.” he cursed under his breath.

“So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?”

“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it” your brother nodded.

You got why Eddie was so snarky. His whole life changed in the blink of a moment. He didn’t know anything about the Upside Down, about the Mind Flayer, but now he has experienced a traumatic episode happening in front of him, unable to do anything to help the innocent girl and the whole town perceives him as a killer. So, it was understandable why he thought the rest of you were so crazy to think as this is easy, just another Tuesday for you.

“Listen, Eddie, I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kind of thing before. I mean, they have a- a few times…” Robin pointed towards you and you nodded to confirm her words “…and- and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel like we got this.”

“Yeah, we kinda have set a record for the number of times we’ve done this. It’s like an annual event at this point.” you decided to approach the fourth time you’ve dealt with this with more dark humor, just so you could cope with the craziness over this whole thing.

“Yes, see, we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers. But, uh, those went bye-bye, so…” Steve said as he stood next to you.

“So, we’re technically in more of the-”

“Kinda…” Robin and Steve tried to find their words before Max stepped in.

“Brainstorming phase.”

“Brainstorming.” Steve snapped his finger at Max, agreeing with her.

“There-There’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin said it in a way to relax Eddie, but when you looked at said boy’s face he looked anything but relaxed.

Suddenly, you could hear sirens going off outside, alerting all of you.

“Shit…” Steve cursed under his breath.

“Tarp. Tarp. Tarp.” you pointed at Eddie who quickly hid himself under the tarp as the rest of you ran to the windows to check what was happening.

Thankfully the police cars and the ambulance driving by weren’t meant for you, but they did intrigue your interest. So, you collectively decided to follow after them and see if anything new has happened.

You ended up near the trailer park. Steve parked the car and you all got out of your seats to get a better look. As your head lifted up your eyes fell on Nancy’s. She looked scared and you just knew it had to do with what you had found out. And by the apprehensive look on your face, as well as the others, Nancy also knew that this wasn’t just a killer on the loose, it was something you were all too familiar with.

You waited until she gave her statement to the new chief of the police before heading to one of the picnic tables at the park, filling Nancy in on everything you had so far, which wasn’t a lot.

“So, you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?” Nancy was sitting opposite of you, while Robin and Max sat by her sides.

“If the shoe fits.” Steve answered. He was on your left, playing with your fingers under the table as you looked at Dustin on your right who started talking.

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse. Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

“All we know is that this is something different. Something new.” you saw Nancy start shaking her head after Max’s words.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s only a theory.” Dustin told her but she quickly explained herself.

“No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense. I mean, why them?”

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” you suggested, desperately trying to find a connection.

“They were both at the game.” Dustin pointed out.

“And near the trailer park.” Max said and you felt Steve freeze for a moment next to you.

“We’re at the trailer park. Uh, should we maybe not be here?” you began looking around to see if anything was out of the ordinary, feeling a sense of uneasiness when he pointed it out.

“There is something about this place. Fred started acting weird the second we got here.” Nancy said, thinking of Fred’s behavior yesterday.

“Acting weird as in…?” Robin asked her.

“Scared, on edge, upset.”

“Max said Chrissy was upset too.” Dustin looked at Max who shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, but not here. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right? So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman-”

“Vecna.” your brother corrected Robin.

“I don’t know about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.” Steve told you and you scrunched your brows, a thought coming to mind.

“Yeah, but what if they didn’t really see anything?” you thought out loud, making everyone turn and look at you weirdly “I mean, Will didn’t, the Mind Flayer was playing with his mind, making him see pictures nobody else was. They’d probably thought they were going insane, too scared to talk about it to anyone.”

“Maybe not anyone.” Max caught up on your thinking “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you… you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you. But you might go to your-”

“Your shrink.” Robin nodded at her words and you all got out of your seats heading back to your cars. The plan was to go to Ms. Kelley’s office and search for any valuable information about Chrissy.

But as your legs went over to Steve’s car you caught Nancy heading towards the other way. You wondered if she just wanted to get her own car so you asked her.

“Oh, no, there’s something else I wanna check out first.” she answered, still walking further away from the rest of you.

“Something you wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin asked.

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.” she had now stopped, trying to play it off like it wasn’t anything serious, but the look on her face told you otherwise.

“Well, you’re not going alone. No, no way.” you stepped forward before Steve followed behind you.

“Exactly. Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? It’s too dangerous. I-”

“I’ll come with you.” you nodded at your friend and took a step to go by her side, but a hand gripping onto your arm stopped you. You turned your head to see Steve looking at you like you were insane “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? It’s too dangerous. You’re not going alone.” he told you, releasing his grasp.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Nancy.”

“I meant without me. You’re not going without me.” his explanation made you tilt your head in question.

“Who’s gonna drive the kids to Ms. Kelley’s house?”

“I- Wait. Here.” he dug into his pocket and took out his car keys, before throwing them at Robin, who caught them with ease “I’ll stick with you two, while Robin drives them. Then we’ll meet up again after Nancy checks out what she wants. Deal?” he directed the question at you, but Robin beat you to the answer.

“I don’t think you want me driving your car.”

“Why?” Steve sighed as he looked at Robin.

“I don’t have a license.”

“Why don’t you have a license?”

“I’m poor.” she said, her words making you stifle a chuckle down.

“I can drive.”

“No!” you pointed your finger at Max.

“No. You’re not driving my car. No way.” Steve said loudly.

Dustin felt like it was his turn, so he shrugged, but you were quick to stop him “No chance, mister.”

“Come on.” your brother whined but Steve agreed with you.

“No.” he turned back to look at you. You had a soft look on your face, which meant that you were getting your way no matter what he said.

“Steve. You can’t come with us. What if they get into trouble? Robin will trip over her own feet with every chance she gets. I’m sorry.” you apologized to your friend, who just dismissed you with a shake of her head.

“No, no, it’s true.”

“You need to keep them safe. Plus, me and Nancy know how to handle ourselves.” you walked next to Nancy, without getting stopped by your boyfriend this time.

“Are you sure? I mean-” a groan from behind him interrupted his reasoning to follow you.

“All right, okay. This is stupid.” Robin marched over to the three people in front of her, returning the keys to Steve and settling her body next to yours, her arm slinging along your shoulders “You get go with the kids. Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us.” Steve pulled a face at her words, finally accepting defeat.

You smiled and yelled out before Robin dragged you down the road “Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Be careful! Please…”

And you were being careful, because as it turned out Nancy just wanted to check some story she had heard at the library. On your way there she told you about Eddie’s uncle who had told her he knew who had done this to poor Chrissy.

“Okay, help me get this straight. Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, thinks that Victor Creel escaped from Pennhurst Asylum and that he’s the one running around Hawkins committing these murders?” Robin asked Nancy just as you were walking up to the library.

“Pretty much.”

“How old is he supposed to be? Because if you think about our theory, the timing-” your brows were furrowed in thought when Robin interrupted you, nodding her head.

“It doesn’t add up, right? He committed the eyeball murders, like, way back in the ‘50s.”

“Well… ’59.” Nancy opened the door letting you get in first before walking inside herself.

“So, that means these murders predate Eleven and the Upside Down by about 30 years?” you nodded at Robin’s words.

“We know that El opened the gate, so the Upside Down theoretically wasn’t connected to our universe back then, which means that this might disprove our theory.” you walked up to the front desk, letting your arms lean onto it.

“Yeah.” Nancy said from beside you as her head turned left and right trying to find someone who can help you.

“Wait, wouldn’t spooky Victor Creel be like 70 years old?” Robin asked, resting her body on Nancy’s other side.

“Yep.” the girl in the middle rang the bell in front of you.

“So, he’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air.” you chuckled at Robin while Nancy took a deep breath.

“It doesn’t make sense. I know. That’s why I said it was a shot in the dark.” she rang the bell once more.

“I know. I just thought that by ‘shot in the dark’, you were being modest or hiding something super solid up your sleeve that you were gonna wow us with later.” Robin began her daily rant which Nancy was not used to, making her desperate to find the person behind the counter so Robin would stop talking. She rang it again “But this is really, truly a shot in the dark. Like we are snipers with blindfolds on who’ve been spun around 50 times.” you flinched as Nancy started ringing the bell nonstop until a voice called out.

“Coming!” the lady behind the counter appeared with a few books at hand and then turned to the three of you after she set them down.

“Hi. Sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush. Could we get the keys to the basement archives?” Nancy put on her best smile and asked the lady with the sweet voice you were used to all throughout high school.

“Of course. Give me one sec.” she turned and left to find the key.

Your eyes landed on a little bowl next to you filled with different flavors of candy. It felt like forever since you had eaten something, so you settled for a bit of sugar in your system.

“Did I come off mean or condescending or something?” your attention was captured by Robin who was looking straight at Nancy.

“No.” the girl answered quickly, tapping her fingers at the counter, waiting for the librarian to return.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just, you seem annoyed. You don’t know me very well. I don’t really have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues. Tell her, Y/n.” you had just popped the candy into your mouth when she called your name, bringing both their set of eyes on you.

“She doesn’t have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues.” your words were a bit muffled by the sweet in your mouth, but you nodded your head to agree with Robin.

“Okay.” Nancy said with a small smile, but it was obvious she wasn’t into this conversation.

“So, if I said something that upsets you, just know that I know it’s a flaw. Believe me, my mother reminds me daily.”

“Robin…” you warned her to stay on track.

“Got it.” Nancy looked up to see the lady return and she was thankful to continue with their search.

“All right, ladies. Here you go. Have fun.” she handed the keys to Nancy.

“Yep. We’ll try.” Nancy rushed off towards the archives, leaving you, Robin, and the librarian behind. The lady was looking at you with sympathy in her eyes, so you just sent her a tight smile and grabbed onto Robin’s arm, pulling her along with you.

“What have we said about oversharing?” you turned to look at her as she sheepishly smiled at you.

“Don’t do it if we’re not asked?” you nodded at her, but couldn’t help but giggle at her efforts to make it better with Nancy.

“Come on, my socially awkward little girl.” you followed after Nancy and began your investigation.

On the other side of town, Steve had just pulled up at the therapist’s house and watched as Max got out of the car and inside the house.

“Okay. She’s in.” he stated.

“I’m missing collarbones, not eyes.” Dustin stole a look at Steve’s profile before deciding this is the best moment for this talk “So, we’re gonna talk about… it?”

“Huh? Sorry, what? Talk about what?” Steve turned to look at his little friend after focusing on the house in front of them.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Both of you have been so weird about it.”

“About what? What are you talking about, Henderson?”

“How you and my sister literally fought in front of us yesterday?” Dustin finally said.

“We didn’t fight. We barely bickered.” Steve defended your situation.

“Well, since I have never seen you fight before, not even after your breakup, it was pretty weird seeing you ‘bickering’. I thought you’d be over the moon to have her back, in a disgusting kind of way.” he couldn’t even count the times when Dustin would have to peer Steve off of you whenever they visited you at college. He loved you both and he knew you were meant for each other, but you were still his sister and he was still his best friend, he didn’t love the sight. Still, it was better than the two of you fighting.

He picked up on it the moment he saw you return home yesterday morning. You never returned this early after spending the night at his. He also saw the way you reacted when you decided to go seek help at Family Video. His last clue was your little fight while they were calling Eddie’s friends to find any clues about his whereabouts. Something was definitely going on between them and he had to know so he could fix it.

“Okay, okay, fine. We did kind of argue about something, but it was stupid, alright? And we’re completely ignoring it until we have this whole thing figured out.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, a habit he developed due to his anxiety.

“Cause that’s healthy.” Dustin said sarcastically, but Steve ignored him, his gaze returning at the house. They stayed silent for a few seconds, but Dustin couldn’t help himself “Why did you fight?”

Steve’s brows shot up “Do you really wanna know why I fought with your sister? No, I don’t think it’s going to put me in a good position.”

“Why, did you do something stupid? I mean, of course, you did.” he joked, trying to ease the tension, but Steve wasn’t having it.

“I didn’t- Look, I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll punch you so hard in your face your teeth will fall back out.”

“Whoa. Too far.” Dustin told him.

Steve stared at him for a moment before his face softened “Not cool. Sorry.”

“Not cool. It’s okay.” Dustin nodded, forgiving him. They fisted it up and continued on with their waiting.

You ended up squished into a single seat with Robin looking over newspapers in one of the two COM Catalogs available, Nancy occupying the second one right across from you. You had been searching for around 30-40 minutes and you were getting extremely bored because you couldn’t find anything interesting.

“Anything juicy over there?” Robin’s voice filled your eyes as she called out for Nancy.

“Nothing new.” Nancy answered.

“Yep, same here.”

“Victor seemed like a normal guy, honestly.” you noted as your eyes scanned through another paper that described the same story the other ten had.

“Just a dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” you watch Robin tilt her body to the left and stare at Nancy’s side of the COM’s “What are we looking for exactly?” you push your body next to her, trying to find a clear view of your other friend, who didn’t seem to pay attention to you.

“Nance?” you called out before Robin knocked on the wood rhythmically to get her attention. It obviously worked when you saw Nancy get on the same pose and stare at the two of you with a forced smile on her face.

“Any mention of wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?” Robin said calmly but Nancy snapped.

“I don’t know. Okay? It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time.” You just watched as she got up from her seat and began walking up and down “And you guys are obviously bored, so, why don’t you just call Steve to pick you up. You’d prefer to be with them than with me here. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…” she smiled at you and then took her leave downstairs where more papers were kept.

You stayed silent, evaluating what just happened, and then turned to Robin signaling her to just sit here “I’ll go see what’s up.”

Your legs guided you downstairs. Nancy was arms deep into the catalogs looking through the files. After taking your last step down the stairs you crossed your arms across your chest and leaned on the staircase, looking over at your friend.

“What was that?”

Nancy sighed, letting her head fall forward. She wasn’t sure why she snapped. Maybe it was because of Fred, maybe in fear of everything happening, or maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t reach Jonathan, worrying her that something was wrong over in California as well. Or maybe it was all these things at once that made her feel annoyed at the two of you who were just trying to help. Whatever it was she was too embarrassed to talk about it right now, so she tried once again to dismiss you “Y/n, you really didn’t have to come here with me. Thank you for being concerned but I’ll be fine. Tell Steve to come get you, and I’ll get to the bottom of this on my own.”

“You’ve always been stubborn, you know?”

“Yeah…” she agreed with you, her eyes still not reaching yours.

“But you can’t stop me from being here.” you stepped over to one of the drawers, opened it, and began searching as well. You could see Nancy stop her search from the corner of your eyes, now just staring at you.

“Y/n, really I-”

“To be honest, I’m not only here to help. I also used it as an opportunity to take a breath. Focusing my mind on something like this, away from the supernatural, is nice, you know?” you were certain you had finally reached her, that you had found what made her so cold towards you, when Robin messed up your plans.

“And away from Steve.” she was sitting on the staircase, clearly eavesdropping on you two.

“Robin!” you turned to stare at her as she was ascending from the stairs.

“What? Don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m not.” Robin stood up and step by step reached the floor.

“What happened with Steve?” Nancy’s interest picked up, glad the conversation wasn’t about her now.

“Just a stupid fight, it really doesn’t matter.” you pointed your words at Robin, who just put her hands in the air ‘surrendering’ herself to you.

“Okay.” she wasn’t buying anything you said but decided to ignore it. Instead, she went over to Nancy and opened another one of the drawers to distract herself and found something wildly interesting “Holy shit. The Weekly Watcher. I can’t believe they have this.”

“I remember this. Dustin and I used to love this paper. Well, mainly because it was insane, and we loved insane.” you pointed out, remembering all the crazy stories you would read and the even crazier stories you made up because of it.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy didn’t look too impressed by Robin’s find.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about, but may I remind you two we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.” you shared a look with Nancy, silently agreeing with Robin.

You quickly went back upstairs and put the catalog into the COM. Robin was controlling the machine while you and Nancy waited on each of her sides, eyes scanning through the papers to find what you were looking for.

“Ah. ‘Elvis cloned by aliens’.” Nancy’s hopes were shattering second by second, especially when she read that title. It felt like you were searching in the dark.

You, on the other hand, found it amusing and chuckled at the ridiculous titles you were going through.

“You never know.” Robin countered and after Nancy shot her a look, she rolled her eyes and walked away from you.

“ ‘Victor Creel claims vengeful demon killed family. The murder that shocked a small community’.” Robin said in her best cinematic voice but your eyes were stuck on the article in front of you.

“Ha, ha. That’s very funny.” Nancy ignored her, thinking she was joking since this investigation wasn’t leading anywhere.

“We’re not kidding. Get over here.” your hand waved for Nancy to come back beside you and she followed, returning to her spot next to Robin “ ‘According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon. Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home.’”

“Pretty novel for the ‘50s. Exorcist wasn’t out yet.” Robin interrupted your talking to make a joke.

“Keep- keep going.” the other girl, however, motioned for you to continue.

“ Okay, so, Victor claimed this exorcism failed, but it angered its demon, which then murdered his family, removing their eyes. Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” you finished and turned to look at the two of them.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.”

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” Robin switched Nancy’s words making you both look at her “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? What if this is why? I mean, it sounds insane. It just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain. The records were sealed.” Nancy caught up to her thinking.

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home? It’s, just, this wasn’t any old demon…”

“It was Vecna.” you finished Robin’s sentence, finally feeling like you didn’t just waste your entire afternoon.

You rushed to return the key to the librarian, walked out of the building, and took the radio in your hands, urgently, to call Dustin.

“Dustin, do you copy?”

“Yeah, I copy.” he didn’t even miss a second before responding you.

“So, Nancy’s hunch was correct, surprise-surprise. Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959.” you had a small smile on your face, excited about your discovery.

“Okay, that’s totally bonkers, but I can’t really talk right now.” he sounded out of breath.

“Wait, what? Why? What are you doing?” you stopped in your tracks next to the car, pulling the other girls’ attention to you.

“Breaking and entering a school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.” he explained, and your brows shot up in disbelief.

“Can you repeat that?” Robin asked, taking the radio in her hands, trying to make sense of his words.

“Just get your ass over here, stat. We’ll explain everything.” and he turned his radio off.

“I thought they were talking to Ms. Kelley.” Nancy had just opened the driver’s door, questioning the whole conversation you just had.

“We leave them alone for two hours.” your friend rolled her eyes and with a quick nod of your own you got into the car as well and drove to Hawkins High, trying to figure out what the hell they were doing there.

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