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ddejavvu · 11 months

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 3) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K (again...? somehow?) / navigation / inbox

A/N: ...surpriiiise! this is not the end 😭 i'm sorry to deviate from my original plan, but life got in the way a lot, so now there will be four parts to this series, this is the second-to-last. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, it just didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The real final part to this series will be posted one week from today. I hope you all understand, and I hope you enjoy this part and all of the drama that comes with it!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your eyes blink open far too early. It’s due to your side, there’s a draft that’s worked its way over your skin and raised tiny goosebumps over your thigh. You’ve woken up differently than how you’d fallen asleep ,and you suspect that you’d wormed your way into Bradley’s chest again in your slumber. You can’t blame yourself, it’s a comfortable place to be.

You push against his abdomen to wriggle your way out of his embrace and reclaim the blanket that’s fallen, but his hands tug you closer in an instant. Too fast, you decide, as you peer through the darkness of your bedroom, eyes adjusting groggily to the light.

“Brad?” You whisper, “Are you awake?”

He takes a moment to answer, and you think he might be pretending to be asleep. But eventually you feel him nod against his pillow, “Yeah.”

“Oh, honey,” You strain to reach the bedside lamp from your spot in his grip, especially considering any distance you create between the two of you, he closes. Once you finally click the light on you see his bloodshot eyes, red and rosy from their lack of sleep.

“What’s the matter?” You croon, your voice still thick with sleep as you cup his cheek in your palm, “Why are you awake, did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” He rasps, something desperately sad in his voice, “I never slept.”

“What-” You whirl your glance around to the bedside clock that reads 2:30, “Brad, you’ve been awake the whole time?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He defends, his fingers curling around your waist, “I- I don’t know how anymore.”

“Baby,” You feel a thick wave of nausea rising in your belly at his state of distress, feeling nothing but anguish for the broken boy; your broken boy, “It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe now, you’re home. You don’t- uh, do you remember anything new?”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes downcast as he swallows tightly in his throat, “No, but my brain is coming up with a thousand different ways it could have gone, and I can’t stop.”

You hope his brain hasn’t conjured the correct possibility. That he’d gone down truly alone.

“Poor baby,” You whimper, somehow more choked up than he is, “Come here.”

As he settles in your embrace, his head against your chest now, you reconsider: maybe you were made for holding him, and he was made to be held by you. Or maybe your roles are the same, each made to hold and be held by each other. Whatever the universe designed for you, it’s working, as his face presses into your collarbones like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He fits perfectly, and you feel the prickle of his mustache as he sniffles, once.

“You’re okay,” You hum, hoping that the vibrations of your voice through your throat sing him to sleep. Your nails scrape through his hair, long-since dried from his shower, though still smelling strongly of shampoo. You can feel him breathing, shakily so, against your skin, and the breeze fans through the neckline of your top, warm and soft in its rhythm.

In, out. He’s alive. In, out. He’s here. In, out. He loves you. In, out. He wants you to stay.

In, out. He doesn’t know. In, out. He could remember at any second. In, out. He could hate you.

In, out. He won’t hate you. In, out. He’ll want to work things out. In, out. He’ll want you to stay. In, out. He loves you.

“Baby,” You croak, your throat thick with tears that are part anxiety, and part anguish for your poor boy, “I love you.”

His hands tighten around your waist after a split second of silence, then he murmurs against your collarbone, “I love you, too.”

“Sleep,” You insist, resuming your soft strokes through his hair, “Sleep, Brad. You’re safe, you’re home.”

“You’re home, too.” He adds, and you realize it’s an affirmation on its own. That you're together; that he didn't die alone in a cockpit.

You nod, swallowing a sob, “Yeah, baby, I’m home too. And I’m not leaving, I’m gonna park my ass right here until you get eight hours of sleep, at least. Got it?”

He laughs weakly into your skin, “Got it, babe.”

“Good,” You whisper, keeping up a steady rhythm through his hair, “Good, honey, now sleep.”

You can’t seem to close your eyes until Bradley closes his own. You feel the flutter of his lashes against your skin, Then they cease their motions and the upper strands settle over the lower ones, brushing your chest in tandem. The longer you go without feeling them twitch, the better, and you don’t stop combing through his hair until his breathing has been soft and even for ten minutes minimum. Then exhaustion creeps back over you, and the knowledge that Bradley’s finally sleeping eases you into another few hours of your own slumber.

What wakes you up for the second time isn’t the series of knocks on the front door, but, yet again, a phone call. It's seemingly a pattern of late. This time your phone rings in the kitchen though, where you’d left it last night while eating. You’re surprised it hasn’t died, but you hear the ringing fade out while you lay in Bradley’s embrace. Your brain struggles to process the past 48 hours, but you know enough about the situation to know that it’s probably Carole knocking at the door, as well as calling you when you don’t answer.

Bradley’s still sleeping, thank god, serene when his eyes aren’t open to showcase the deep anxiety they hold. You can’t imagine how he feels, clueless and terrified, like a little kid. You’re glad he’s getting at least a few restful hours, even if you’re sure his dad and yours’ voices will boom far too loud through the house the second they step through the door.

Rushing to answer the door is hard to do silently, but when your face pops into the window panes set in the wood, you hold a finger over your lips.

Shush, you warn, then with a jerk of your thumb backwards towards the bedroom, he’s sleeping.

Carole, the one who needs your warning the least, nods jovially, a pretty smile already set on her face for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine, and you’re lucky to have her at this moment especially. Nick and your dad salute you, and you’ve never let out a more exasperated sigh than the one you greet them with.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” Nick grins, barging in like he owns the place (which he did, for a while), “Brad still conked out?”

“Yeah,” You nod, opening the door wider to let everyone through. Carole’s carrying an insulated bag, your dad has a few totes of groceries, and Nick's got a heavy cooler strapped over his shoulder like a purse.

“My god,” You marvel, “Did you raid a Trader Joe’s?”

“You said there was nothin’ in the fridge,” Carole grins, “We brought stuff for breakfast, and whatever else you need, we can run out for later.”

“Thanks,” You gush, taking the bag from her despite her protests, “Is there milk in here?”

“And eggs,” Your dad nods, holding up his own bags, “And bread, and fruit, and-”

“And I wanna put this thing down,” Nick groans, heading for the kitchen with the cooler, “You talk too much, Mav.”

“Me- I talk too much?” His voice raises a hair as he heads for the kitchen in tow, and you and Carole shoot him the necessary disapproving looks, “This, from the guy who missed his flight to Hawaii because he was too busy telling the gate attendant that his son won student of the week in preschool.”

The two conveniently bicker, leaving you and Carole alone in the entryway. She sends you a questioning glance, no words needed.

“Not yet,” You mutter, and her eyes dim in disappointment, “I just- I wanted one night. One night to pretend like nothing happened at all, but I promised him we’d do it today. I told him,” You sigh shakily, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I told him I wasn’t trying to hide from him, or anything like that, but- but that I just wanted a normal night. He said it was fine, he agreed. I wouldn’t have just gone to sleep if he pushed.”

“Honey!” She scolds, like there’s not a thought in your head, “Since when has he ever pushed you? Of course he said it was fine, you asked him for it! He'd let you run him over with a train if you asked to. You have got to stop this,” She narrows her eyes at you, the expression accompanied by various only-slightly-muffled banging sounds from the kitchen “I know it’s scary. I know it could go a lotta different ways. But you owe this to him now. Now that he knows, now that he’s askin’ questions, you’ve gotta answer ‘em. You’re the only one that can, you’re the only one that knows!”

Neither of you have noticed your dad standing in the kitchen doorway. But he’s not stealthy, and his broad frame catches your eye. You turn, panicked, but his face reads confusion.

“You’re the only one that knows what?” He queries, one thick brow raised. Carole waits for you to answer, and you build the courage in your chest.

“Nothing, dad. I’ll- I’ll talk to you about it later. In private.”

He remains concerned, his light eyes darkened in worry, but he trusts you, and Carole doesn’t fight back against your solution. He nods once, then clears his throat, “Nick can’t figure out how to work your stove. He wants to make pancakes.”

“Ooh, that man,” Carole huffs, more exasperated than upset, as she storms into the kitchen, “Honey, it’s the dial in the back!”

Technically, you’re in private now. Your dad seems to realize the same, shifting towards you, but before he can ask, there’s a thud from the bedroom.

Fear stabs your heart like a sword, blade sharp and venomous as you imagine an injured Bradley unable to get himself off of the floor. But you aren’t able to take two steps towards the bedroom before Bradley comes stumbling down the hall, nearly tripping over the too-long pajama pants you’re still matching in.

When he sees you and your dad, he freezes for a moment, posture tight. You hope he’s not embarrassed to be caught in his holiday pajamas, but you’re more concerned about why he was sprinting in the first place.

“Baby,” You call worriedly, making your way over to him across the carpet of the hallway, “Baby, what’s wrong? DId you fall? I heard a thud.”

“No, I-” He shakes his head, blinking hard for a moment, “I heard someone in the house. I don’t- I thought someone had broken in. Sweetheart, I- I didn't even realize you weren't in bed," He chuckles sheepishly, "I thought I was protecting you.”

You squeeze his arm with a fond smile, though you're still worried about him, adoration swelling in your chest alongside concern, "Poor baby."

“Sorry, Brad,” Your dad laughs softly, heading back towards the doorway to rejoin the others once he realizes you won’t be sharing just yet, “Your dad can’t find his way around a kitchen.”

“Should have known,” Bradley huffs, curling an arm around your waist, “If my mom ever left him he’d never eat again.”

You welcome the privacy that this gives you and Bradley, and your hands find the broad expanse of his chest as you stare worriedly up at him.

“Brad,” You hum, lifting one of your hands as his settle on your waist. You lay it over his cheek and he leans into the contact like a touch-starved puppy, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed really freaked out. And- and your ribs are still broken, don’t they hurt? I think you should get back in bed. We can-”

“Hey,” Bradley murmurs, mustache tickling your palm as he lays a kiss to the heel of your hand, “It’s alright. You’re spiraling, babe. I’m okay.”

You like that about him, the way he kisses you anywhere. It doesn’t seem to matter if he catches your lips, your hand, your elbow; it’s all there for him to love on.

“I am not spiraling,” You defend weakly, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” He shakes his head, and when you move to pull your hand away from his face, one of his own flies to catch it. His hand fits just as well against the back of yours as it does the front, and you let him cradle your palm to his cheek.

“I’m okay,” He repeats, a promise that reassures the deep ache of worry in your chest, “Thanks for helping me sleep last night, honey. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You swallow the weight of his words, feeling them settle like boulders in your stomach. They’ve tangled strings around your heart, tugging and yanking at the organ until it sinks low in your body. Today’s the last day you can pretend you’d never walked away.

“You’ll have me forever,” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips that you hope distracts from the tears in your eyes. You sigh shakily against his mouth, relishing the feeling of his lips against your own. It’s comforting, and he keeps it chaste but meaningful, humming sweetly into you. When you break away only your lips part, foreheads and noses still flush like snapped-in puzzle pieces.

There’s some inexplicable force sticking you together, blood magnetized to each other’s from how long your hearts have beat as one. You let your eyes slip shut in his hold, hoping with everything in you that today isn’t the last time you’ll get to hold him like this. There’s a countdown ticking away in your brain, one that makes your blood run cold and your stomach churn, but the smell of pancake batter tears you away from watching the numbers run out.

“Pancakes,” You whisper softly against his lips, “You wanna eat?”

“Yeah,” He nods, but he makes no move towards the kitchen. He’s standing still, like you’re a cat that’s decided to snooze on his lap and he’s afraid of spooking you. His hands are still holding your waist, dragging you into him and supporting your weight against his own. It’s comfortable there, serene as you breathe in tandem, drinking each other in after a rough night. You’re glad Bradley’s gotten even a little bit of sleep, and with a nap later, you’re sure he’ll be well-rested enough to talk, even though you wish you didn’t have to. This is a fantasy you want to get lost in, one that you wish wasn’t starting to crack and splinter under his discerning gaze. It’s endearing that he knows you well enough to know that you’re lying to him, but not now that you want them to be the truth.

“You still haven’t remembered anything?” You ask, grateful to be cupping his cheek where his hand holds your own.

“Nope,” He shakes his head as much as he can with it pressed to your own, kissing at your top lip. It doesn’t require reciprocation, it’s barely-there and fleeting, “Doctor said it could be weeks.”

“He also said it could be minutes,” You mumble, voice hazy with worry, “Let’s go eat, Brad. Our parents brought along a buffet.”

It’s only now that either of you finally move, hands sliding across each others’ skin to join together. You walk as your fingers intertwine, and he holds back to let you step into the kitchen first.

“There he is!” Nick cheers at his son’s dramatic entrance, “Hey, Brad, watch this!”

He yanks the pan off of the stove, standing with his shoulders squared and his knees bent, like he’s preparing to bat at a softball. He jerks the pan up and out, dislodging the pancake from its resting place and sending it into the air when he pulls the pan back down again. It flips gracefully, but Nick catches it less so, half of the gooey side of the pancake landing on the rim of the pan and splattering onto his hand.

“Shit,” He hisses, and Carole buries her face in her hands with a sigh, “Mav, get me a paper towel.”

“Nice one, dad,” Bradley drawls, letting you stifle your laugh into his shoulder, “You could go pro with that.”

“If you make fun of me I’ll spit in the batter,” Nick grumbles as your dad swipes away the batter dripping inches away from his watch, “Thanks, Mav.”

The paper towel and pancake mishap are forgotten as you chat in the kitchen, standing around like a proper family. You’ve always been one, and you hope you always will be. You find an easy home tucked into Bradley’s side, feeling his thumb stroke at your waist and his lips press to your hair every few minutes. The pancakes go surprisingly fast, and Carole refuses to let anyone help her slice fruit, which is probably a good idea, at least for your dad, who’s fond of showing off knife tricks he hasn’t yet mastered.

Bradley’s perfectly capable of dressing his own pancakes up, but you feel the need to. Maybe it’s girlfriend duty, maybe it’s the fact that his ribs are still achy, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to overcompensate, but whatever it is has your hand delving into the bowl of freshly washed blueberries, grabbing a handful and sprinkling them over Bradley’s buttered stack of pancakes. Then you take a banana, leaving Carole three more to slice up into the salad.

You slice the fruit towards your thumb, the blade pressing gently to your skin as it cuts through the banana. It doesn’t hurt, but Bradley reaches for your hands, pulling the knife away and holding the affected thumb.

“Don’t do it like that,” He explains, raising your thumb to his lips. He kisses it once, his lips pressing to the smooth pad of your finger, mustache tickling your skin, “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“I was careful,” You insist, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from Bradley, so you let him curl his fingers around your own, interlocking them as he holds your hand.

“I’ll cut it,” He squeezes your hand, leaning in to peck softly at your lips, “You’ve done a ton for me these past few days, babe. I can cut my own banana.”

You worry you’re coming off as smothering, that you’ve suffocated him with care. But the thought of never being able to do it again, and being deprived of the option to for weeks, has made you more of a helicopter girlfriend than anything.

You let him cut his own banana, just in case he’s feeling resentment towards you for being so overbearing. But you don’t think he’s angry, not as he slices the banana down onto the cutting board and takes it between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it out for you, right up to your lips like you shouldn’t even be asked the effort of leaning forwards to eat it. You take it carefully from his hand, and you lament the fact that you’ll get banana mush on his thumb if you try kissing it.

The fruit is flavorful on your tongue, but it’s a small slice, and you finish it quickly. You let the aftertaste linger in your mouth as you head for Bradley at the counter, pushing your face into his back and slinging your arms around his waist. You’re careful to keep pressure off of his aching ribs, and he leans into your touch instead of flinching away.

You settle your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, head turned so that you’re facing your houseguests. They’re all smiling at you, Carole most of all, and you offer them a sleepy one back.

“So, Brad,” Nick muses, plating the final pancake with a flourish that, thankfully, doesn’t send the stack toppling to the ground, “What are you gonna do today?”

“Nap,” Bradley blurts, and he uses the time that your family chuckles in unison to slip you another banana slice. It’s an awkward angle that his arm has to achieve, but you take it from him happily, jaw working to munch on the fruit while you nestle against his back once more.

“I dunno,” He hums, nearly through chopping the banana, “Maybe a movie or something. Hey, we could finish season 5 of The Office.”

“Mm,” You nod with a mouthful of banana against his back, “Yeah.”

You’ve been watching the series together, having finished Friends already. It’s a good show to watch before bed, because it gives you something to snuggle up together and giggle at. You’ve only got a few episodes left in the season, so you should be able to finish it in no time with Bradley’s extensive bedrest.

“Alright, my loves,” Carole croons, dropping the last two pieces of watermelon she’d been cutting into the bowl, “That’s the fruit! Are we ready to eat?”

A round of excitement circles the kitchen, and you cling to Bradley for as long as you can. He lets you, doesn’t try to shake you off as he drizzles syrup over his pancakes.

“You wanna split ‘em?” He offers, and you nod. He can’t see you, but he feels the movement against his back, and even if he wasn’t able to, he knows you well enough to know you’ll want bites of the food. You reluctantly let go of his waist when he picks the plate up, and you trail behind him to the dining room. He’s finally able to see the decorations you’d hung, and he stops to admire them in the doorway.

“Welcome home,” You coo, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Carole stands proud beneath the banner, “Do you like it, baby?”

“Guys-,” Bradley chuckles sheepishly, setting the pancakes down at his place just beside yours, “I love it. Thank you, even though I was only gone for two days.”

“It was the longest two days of my life,” You gripe, but you suppose your days have been unpleasantly long for weeks now, “That’s what I was referring to, by the way, when I said your mom was scarily agile. I came out from the bedroom to find her standing on both the couch and the table.”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, bewildered. Nick looks a little concerned, Carole bashful, and your dad impressed.

Eating around the table together reminds you of when you were younger, dinners and breakfasts and lunches alike being shared around the table. It didn’t matter who’s, you could turn a Denny’s booth into your home with a few plates of food and the laughter that’s never in short supply within your family.

Bradley cuts his pancakes himself, probably happy to have something to do with his hands. He’s eager to return the favor of feeding you, grabbing chunks of pancake on the end of his fork and guiding them into your mouth. You’re reminded of a picture you’d passed up in the photo album yesterday, of Bradley spoon-feeding you as a baby. His utensil-airplane impression was probably scarily accurate thanks to his dad; you wish you could remember it. Maybe, if you don't break up tonight, you'll see him feed your own kid that way.

You’re happy to sit and be fed, even letting him wipe syrup off of your chin like you’d done for him. You’re sure the only reason he doesn’t kiss it off of you is because your dad is there, and his, too. They have a tendency to make fun of you, even if it’s all good-natured.

“D’you need more groceries, baby?” Carole points her fork in your direction, pointedly swallowing her mouthful of watermelon before speaking.

Her husband doesn’t offer you the same courtesy, speaking through a messy mouthful of eggs, “Pro’lly not. We damn near bought out the store.”

Before Carole can reprimand him for his less-than-perfect etiquette, you nod, “We need produce. We might be okay on fruit if there’s any of this left,” You gesture to the bowl of fruit salad, “But we need vegetables. And eggs, we probably used them all. I’ll make a list later, once I clean up.”

“Once we clean up,” Bradley corrects you, “I’ve been in bed for two days straight, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna need to be in bed for a lot longer than two days,” You narrow your eyes at him, “You need rest, baby,”

“I’m rested! And I’m gonna rest later when we watch our show,” He pleads, “Just let me help?”

“Why doesn’t he help me with the dishes?” Your dad intervenes, scraping his last bite of pancake through a sticky puddle of syrup on his plate. It’s boysenberry, and a drop nearly falls to your tablecloth as he brings it to his mouth.

“You wash, I’ll dry and put away. That way you can keep your arms down. Deal?”

“Fine by me,” Bradley nods, and you shoot your dad a thankful glance.

“I’ll sort through the fridge then,” You decide, “Nick, Carole, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“We’re gonna keep bummin’ ‘round here ‘til you stop feeding us,” Nick decides, “Whaddya say honey, ‘think we can move into the guest room?”

“Oh I’m sure they’d love that,” Carole plays along, a wry drawl in her voice, “They’d have to hear your snoring all night.”

“He snores, too,” You jerk an accusatory thumb at Bradley who doesn’t even try to deny the allegation, “Like father, like son. It must come with the mustache.”

“Speaking of my mustache,” Bradley’s hand flies to his lip, feeling cautiously at the patch of hair atop it, “Did they- shave part of my mustache?”

A guilty look is shared around the table. You speak up in a meek voice, “Yeah, baby. To get the breathing tube in there.”

He groans, “Next time, just let me die.”

“Don’t say that,” You hiss, stomping on his foot beneath the table. The yelp that he lets out is almost comical, but Carole’s face is still scrunched in a disapproving frown at her son.

“I’m sorry!” Bradley cries, “I’m sorry, jesus, are you wearing steel-toed boots under there?”

“No, but if you keep making jokes like that, I’ll put some on and kick you in the balls.” You threaten, and Bradley thinks it might be a promise.

“It’s not funny,” Carole insists, voice weaker than yours, “Brad, you- you almost did die.”

“Mom-” He sighs weakly, posture deflating, “I’m sorry. Really, it was a bad joke. I won’t do it again. Are you okay?”

She takes a minute to think, blinking at her plate instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. Then she stands, nodding hastily, “I’m alright. I just need a minute.”

Bradley tries to follow after her but Nick stands at the same moment, waving him back down into his seat.

“She’s okay,” He promises, smiling sadly at his son, “But she really was scared. I’ll handle it, you finish eating.”

Bradley slumps back into his seat, the sinking feeling in his gut at making his mom cry probably similar to the one in yours from lying to him. You’ve become scarily fond of this temporary life of yours, where you’re still dating Bradley, and you’ve got a family again. Lying comes easy now, and if you don’t think about it, you’ll forget you’re even doing it. You’re the actor most dedicated to their craft, believing even your own performance because it means you get Bradley back.

Lying is much easier when you love doing it.

You hear a rogue sniffle from Carole down the hall, and you clatter your fork against your plate to cover it up. It probably doesn’t work, as Bradley stares forlornly at his own almost-empty plate, and you don’t think he has the appetite to finish it.

“Are you done?” You nudge his knee, and he glances up dazedly at you.

“Yeah,” His throat is dry and his voice is weary, “You want the rest?”

“I’m okay,” You shake your head, turning to your dad, “Dad? You all finished?”

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, trying to break the awkward silence, “Ready to clean up the kitchen, Brad?”

“Alright,” He hums, standing from his chair. His movements are slow and sluggish, and you don’t think he’ll be at his best until his mom comes out with dry cheeks and a smile. In the meantime, you dig in the cupboards for a tupperware to put the fruit salad in.

Cleaning is tense, even if you and your dad try acting like nothing is wrong. Bradley’s not talkative anymore, and you resort to going about your business silently, packing the fridge with what little leftovers there are and making sure Bradley isn’t straining himself at the sink.

When Nick and Carole emerge from the bathroom, peering tentatively into the kitchen, Bradley nearly drops the last plate he’s washing into the sink. He hastily dries his hands, moving in for a hug from his mother while she smiles sheepishly at him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, and Nick smiles on. You try not to stare, not to ruin their moment, but you can’t help it; you and your dad share a happy grin.

“I know, baby,” She promises, combing a hand through the back of his hair, “I know, I just- I just get worried about you, s’all. ‘Specially when you land yourself in the hospital.”

“No more jokes,” Bradley promises, and she gratefully parrots him, adding 'and no more crashes,'.

“Alright,” You hum, when it’s appropriate to speak, “I’m gonna run to the store. Brad, you should get back in bed, but- uh, again, you’re all welcome to stay for longer, if you’d like.”

“I’ll go with you,” Your dad steps in, almost too close to be casual. You realize why, and that sinking feeling you’d been trying to ignore the entire morning comes back; He wants to know your secret.

“Okay,” You nod, trying to keep your composure even if your hands suddenly feel sweaty, “We won’t be gone long. Babe, get some rest, I mean it.”

You narrow your eyes at Bradley, then turn to Nick and Carole, “If you stick around, will you be on babysitting duty? Don’t let him wander around too much.”

“Will do,” Nick nods once, firmly, “Come on, Lieutenant, you heard your orders.”

“Alright, alright,” He gripes, rolling his eyes exasperatedly as Nick pats his back. He moves towards you, stepping across the kitchen tile to kiss you goodbye.

“Get me some cheetos,” He pleads, face only inches away from your own. He leans in and his mouth moves against yours as he speaks, “The jalapeno ones?”

“Okay,” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable. You use his lips to chase away your nerves, letting his sweet touch drown out the thoughts in your head. You kiss him briefly once, then twice, and send him off to bed with a quick nudge of your nose against his own.

“Bye,” Your dad flashes one hand in a quick wave as you call, ‘Be back soon!’.”

He doesn’t make his move the second the door shuts, he waits until you get going down the road in Bradley’s Bronco before opening his mouth.

“So,” He tries coming off as casual but you wouldn’t buy it in a million years, “What was Carole talking about earlier?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” You confess, suddenly very invested in checking your blind spot even though it’s clear, “I wanted to keep it private. I didn’t even want her to know.”

“Well, she knows everything,” Your dad shrugs, discerning eyes glancing at your own guarded ones through the mirror, “And I’m usually out of the loop. Can we change that just this once?”

“Dad-” You scoff at his persistence, running a hand over your face and slapping it back onto the wheel, “Something happened between Bradley and I before the crash.”

“Something happened,” Your dad muses, brain trekking heartbreakingly positive routes, “You… paid off the cars? You bought a pet? You- oh god, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No!” You gush, but it’s not for a lack of sex, merely your use of contraceptives, “I- um, he asked me to marry him.”

You feel cruel when you see his face light up. It’s like the inflation of a balloon, features rising in joy until his eyes shine like the sun, “Oh, honey, that’s amazing. Congratulations! Have you set a date, or- or a venue, or-”

“I said no.”

The balloon deflates slightly. A tiny puff of air escapes it, like you’ve released your fingers around its spout for only a second. His eyes dull slightly, and his smile is cautiously still stretching his cheeks.

“What?”

“I said no, dad.” You repeat, voice aching in your throat, “I said no, and I left him.”

“You left him?” Your dad’s voice mirrors your own, bordering on shaky as his brain reprograms its image of you two, “You- you said no and you left him?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, the word coming out far weaker than you wish it did. Your mouth turns down so that you can bite the inside of your bottom lip, desperately withholding a sob.

“Why?”

That’s the million dollar question. The one you know the answer to, but don’t want to admit to anyone. You left because you were scared of getting hurt, and now you’re lying to everyone because you’re scared they’ll see you as a coward. You’re scared they’ll think you’re scared.

You’re scared they’ll know you’re scared.

You want to tell your dad that you don’t know. You want to tell him that it had been a fit of insanity, that you’d been cured with a walk around the block and that you’d kissed and made up just that night. But you swallow your nerves, squaring your shoulders as you make a right turn, “I was scared.”

You’d admitted it to Carole in the hospital, but she’d seen right through you, she’d forced your confession. Doing it now, by choice, makes you feel like you’re taking a step forward. It’s like you’re actually cracking down on the promise you’d made to yourself days ago, that you’d stop running just to self-destruct. You’re not facing your dad in the seat but it feels like you’re facing off with some sort of formless, panic-driven entity that encapsulates him, and slowly you’re chipping away at it.

“I was scared because marriage seems so much more than dating does. We’ve been dating- forever. The only thing marriage would have changed was that we’d have a paper telling us we loved each other. I mean,” You laugh, but the sound is reminiscent of a sob, “-we always joked about being too lazy to get married. That we didn’t do it for 20 years because we already practically were, and we didn’t wanna waste gas money for some preacher to tell us we were. But- but anyways, after Javy’s crash, I was remembering Nick’s, and I started worrying about Bradley. I was sad and scared for Nick and Javy, I couldn’t imagine being in that situation with Bradley. So when he asked me to marry him, it felt like if I said yes I’d be signing onto that. I- I know that’s dumb, and that’s not what saying yes meant. But I had this awful panic running through my head; that he could crash at any point in time, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d be heartbroken and terrified like everyone else was, and I didn’t wanna go through that again. So I- I said no, and I told him I couldn’t love him anymore, and I left, because I thought that I’d be okay if I just didn’t marry him. Like I could have- moved on in the two days I wasn’t living with him, or something. Like if I just wasn’t formally dating him, or married to him, I wouldn’t be hurt if he was.”

“And-” You break away, voice trembling and nose running, “It didn’t even work. I walked out, and he still crashed, and I still got hurt. I didn’t solve anything, I- I made it worse. I made it so much worse, dad.”

You’ve turned into the grocery store parking lot, and a terrible, stiff, heavy silence hangs over the car while you park it. You wait until you shut it off, engine puttering out and body no longer humming, to look at him.

He’s staring at his lap, crystal-clear tears sliding down his cheeks. He isn’t looking at you, but you’re sure he knows you’re looking at him, and it turns your stomach in a nauseous whirl.

You stare for five seconds before he speaks. Five agonizing, soul-crushing, terrifying seconds where you think you might be on the verge of being disowned.

“I was never good at commitment,” His small voice breaks the silence, and the breath that he drags in to push the words out is shaky, “And- neither was your mom. Obviously. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it runs in the family. But- but Y/N, you left? You have been in love with Bradley since before you could say the word, I mean he- he was the only one that could get you to stop crying before your naps as a kid! You wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the room, I’m surprised Nick and Carole didn’t move him in with us.”

“I know,” You croak, but he’s not finished.

“I- I understand your thought process.” He assures you, “It’s flawed, but I understand how your brain conjured it up. You were trying to save yourself, and I understand that instinct. I just can’t believe it happened between you two. I mean, you were fated, I thought you two would set the world record for longest relationship. You were gonna go gray together, you were gonna have a thousand kids, and-”

“Dad!’ You cry, a sob shaking your chest, “I know. I get it. You’re making this worse.”

“How could I possibly make this worse?” He laughs incredulously, but there’s not a shred of humor in his voice, “Y/N, I-” He lowers his voice, cutting some of the exasperation out of his tone, “I don’t even understand, why is he- oh.. my god.”

“He doesn’t know,” Your dad concludes, head knocked back against the headrest, “He doesn’t know you left him because he has amnesia.”

“Yeah,” You confirm, voice meek and shameful, “I- I was gonna leave after I knew he was okay. But then- then Carole figured us out, and she said it would be better if I pretended for now, because he was probably scared and he needed my comfort in the moment. She said to just let him remember on his own time and then address it, to- to not overwhelm him with a plane crash and a breakup.”

“But I- I thought he’d have his memory back by now,” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your hand, caring little about the mess, “The doctor said minutes, I didn’t think it’d go on for days. And now I’m starting to get worried, will- will he ever remember? Am I supposed to lie to him for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to leave again, to confess and break his heart a second time? I don’t know what to do, dad!” You feel like a little girl, sobbing in her father’s lap, “Please, I- I don’t know what to do.”

You’re immensely relieved when he reaches over to take your hand. You’ve spent the last two weeks disgusted with yourself, and for your dad to react the way he did, you were afraid he felt the same. But he squeezes your hand tight, and you’d complain about how it squished your fingers together if it were any other situation.

“Honey,” His voice trembles, and you recall the only times you’ve ever seen him cry. After Goose’s accident, of course, when you’d broken your arm at the park when you were twelve, when the dog he’d gotten for you as a birthday present passed on. He’s a man of very little tears, so seeing them now moves you.

“I love you,” He promises, and you’re glad that hasn’t changed, “And I’m always going to, even if you do the wrong thing. And this was wrong, that- that was the wrong thing. But I think you can make it right again, and if you need my help doing that, it’s yours.”

“Thanks, dad,” You gush through a faceful of tears, a wet mess sliding down your chin and soaking through the neckline of your shirt, “I- I want to make it right. Carole thinks he’ll take me back if I apologize. And I want to, I want to apologize.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s brows raise and he sniffles, wiping a tear from his face, “Yeah, that’s a good start. I think he’d forgive you for just about anything, I- I don’t know that you could ever drive him away.”

“That’s what Carole said," You recall, and you feel guilty for the hope it gives you.

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him.” Your dad reminds you, and you nod.

“I’m gonna grovel.” You decide, “Like, hardcore, begging on my knees, ‘I’ll-do-anything-for-you-to-forgive-me’ groveling.”

“I think that’s your best bet,” Your dad lets out a huff of laughter, smearing away another tear, “I think you can do it. But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“I know,” You lament, “But- but I don’t care. I’ll do it even if it's hard. He’s worth fighting for.”

“That’s my girl,” Your dad grins, squeezing your hand. It feels like you’re back on the peewee soccer field at age four after scoring a goal. You squeeze back, and have a sudden hankering for orange slices.

“Okay, let’s stop fucking crying,” He breathes, wiping at his eyes overzealously and sniffling hard. You should have known he’d pump up the dramatics, even in serious situations.

“Alright,” You laugh wetly, the sound infused with hope you wouldn’t feel if it weren’t for your dad, “Do you think they’ll be able to tell we were crying?”

You share a quick once-over with your dad, clocking his red eyes, puffy towards the bottom, and equally rosy nose. You’re sure your face is just as swollen, and he cracks a grin.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Definitely not.”

The next thing you share is a laugh, cranking the car’s AC on high so that your tears dry up quicker. Maybe they’ll even freeze right on your cheeks, so that you can save them and defrost the memory later to feel your dad’s love again.

“You heard the lady,” Nick calls to Bradley when he reaches for the dish he’d abandoned in the sink, “Head to bed, Brad. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“It’s one plate!” Bradley gripes, but Carole’s dangerous glances towards him works just as effectively as it had when he was younger, and he grumbles, “Fine.”

“Sweet dreams,” Nick jeers after him as he shuffles back to your shared bedroom, but Carole nudges him towards the sink with a scoff.

“Stop teasin’ him, and get to work, busboy. I expect the counters wiped, too!”

“Call me goddamn Cinderella,” Goose grumbles, but he’d wipe down the floor before every step she took if she asked him to. He gets to work with no protest.

Carole treads carefully down the hallway, hoping her son is dressed sufficiently for her presence in the room. She finds him swapping out his pillow for yours, and she lingers in the doorway with a careful smile.

“Hey, babycakes. Gonna nap?”

“Maybe,” Bradley nods, hair already mussed from the pillow, “Thanks for staying, mom.”

“Of course, baby,” Her heart aches for her son, being on the brink of death and not even remembering it. Being so close to losing his life and not knowing how it felt. Just knowing that it happened; knowing that it didn’t happen.

“You told me when you were twelve that you were too old for me to tuck you in,” She pushes off of where she’s leaning against the doorway, coming around the bed to Bradley’s side to fuss with the blankets, “But you’re probably still weak from the crash, and you couldn’t push me away if you tried.”

He lets out a laugh, one that’s rife with exhaustion but genuine all the same, as she digs her hands beneath his sides, tucking the comforter beneath him. She braces her hands on the mattress to lean down and kiss his forehead, and when she does, the tips of her fingers are pricked by the sharp corner of something she can’t see under the pillow beside him.

“Ouch! What-” She hisses, nearly face-planting over Bradley’s shoulder as she lifts the pillow. She stiffens when she realizes it’s a picture of you, framed in black wood and probably missing from his nightstand.

“I- I’m sorry.” She mumbles as he lays frozen and awkward in place, “I didn’t mean to pry. It just- it was sharp, and I was confused. If I'd known-”

“It’s alright, mom.” Bradley promises weakly, clearly embarrassed by her discovery, “Don’t worry about it.”

Carole is worried. She moves in again for the forehead kiss, letting it linger against Bradley’s forehead for a second longer than she needs to. She fights back tears when she pulls away, barely able to muster a smile.

“She’s just goin’ to the store,” She teases sweetly, “She’s not shippin’ off to war. That’s your job.”

“Yeah,” He laughs weakly, “I know. I just miss her.”

She agrees as she combs through his caramel-colored hair with one hand, “Yeah? Tell me about it, baby. What’s going on?”

She wants to hear it from him. She wants to know exactly what he’s thought of your careful deception, and see if she can offer him even miniscule relief towards your possibly suspicious behavior. It’s hard playing a double agent, but she loves you both too much to pick a side.

“Mom,” He takes a long pause before speaking, gnawing on the inside of his cheek like it’s gristle he’s working through, “I lied.”

She racks her brain, were the pancakes not good? Did he not want her to tuck him in? Does he wish they’d gone home so that he could have a moment of silence?

“Oh, yeah? About what, baby?”

“I…” Bradley starts, looking like the words are making him nauseous, rolling his stomach as they crawl out of his mouth, “I remember everything.”

Carole’s the one that’s going to be sick. Her stomach has only dropped so fast twice in her life, receiving the news of both of her boys’ crashes. It’s the hardest thing in the world to keep a straight face, but she allows it to drop slightly so that it looks like she’s just shocked by the news.

“What?" Perhaps her voice is louder than it should be, but she can't control it, "Your memories are back?’

“Yeah. I- I remember it all. And Mom-”

“Brad,” Nick calls from down the hallway, barreling into the room in his typical dramatic , “You- she said your memories are back?”

They freeze like he’s torn an irreparable hole in the delicate conversation. He’s always had a habit of bringing life into a room, but the subject matter had been killing them both, and his energy is the opposite of what they both need to finish it.

“Yeah, dad.” Bradley breathes, a sheen of uncontrollable tears glazing over his eyes that he prays no one sees, “I remember everything.”

“That’s great!” Nick cheers, giddy demeanor slowly dying as no one else smiles, “...Isn’t it? What’s- why are you crying, Brad?”

Carole turns to see for herself, and swallows a sob as she reaches over to wipe the single tear away that had managed to escape down his left cheek. At her touch his face crumples, and what must be a million more tears flood his face.

“Woah, hey,” Nick sits at the end of the bed, face finally drained of all happiness, “What’s the matter, Brad?”

“S’okay baby,” Carole promises, her own voice shaky, “You’re okay, Bradley. You can talk to us, you can tell us anything. What’s the trouble?”

“She left.” Bradley whimpers, overhead light illuminating every single crystalline tear that rushes in a waterfall down his face. He gasps for breath, choking on a cry when he tries to speak over it, “She- she left me!”

“Bradley,” Carole rushes to soothe him, smoothing her hands over his cheeks and slipping one behind his neck, “Sit up baby. Come here, sit up, talk to us.”

He lets Nick help her tug him off of the mattress, and he slumps forward into Carole’s embrace when she pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t even turn his head to bury his face into her shoulder, he just cries against her, limp like a ragdoll.

She presses rapidfire kisses to his temple, tears flowing down her own cheeks. She heard your side of the story first, she knows you had your reasons and your fears and your regrets, but watching Bradley fall apart is planting an ugly seed of anger towards you within her chest. She hates it because she loves you, but she wants her son to be okay again.

“Brad-man,” Nick splutters warily, “Y/N? Bud, she just went to the store. She’ll be back in, like, an hour, tops. No need for tears, son.”

“Nick,” Carole hisses, wishing she wasn’t so angry with him for not knowing the truth. She shouldn’t either, so she pets Bradley’s hair down to distract herself from giving anything away, “Baby, what do you mean?”

“She left,” Bradley repeats, crying defeatedly, his posture slumped and his tears thick and plentiful, “I asked her to- to marry me, and she left.”

Nick is finally silent. His spine stiffens, and Carole guesses a shiver ran up it. He looks at her bewilderedly, bordering on horrified, and she stares back, wishing for the third time in her life that she could turn back time.

“Brad,” Nick starts carefully, voice weak, “Do you- do you think you might be misremembering things, bud? I trust you, and- and obviously this means a lot to you. But that- maybe your concussion’s messin’ with your head. Are you sure that happened?”

“I’m sure, dad.” Bradley had the option to respond with a lot more malice than he chooses to, the words coming out miserable instead, “She left me, and now she’s pretending she never did, because she thinks I don’t remember.”

“She left you,” NIck repeats, still skeptical, “And she’s- she’s lying? Why would she-”

“I hope she never stops,” Bradley croaks, throat raw from sobs, “I hope she lies to me forever.”

Carole’s breath is knocked out of her chest. She manages a soft, teary, ‘What?’, and Bradley straightens up from where he’d been lying in her embrace.

“She left two weeks ago,” Bradley recalls, a stray sob bouncin his chest, “And- and it was hell. I lived in hell for two weeks. I thought she’d stay with Phoenix or something, but I- I checked, and her location was always some cheap motel. At first I thought- well, I was worried she was seeing someone else, or something. Y’know, motels have,” He sniffles, “-bad reputations. So I didn’t go see her. I thought she was over me or something. But she’s- that’s not her. That’s not my girl. So I was going to show up on Friday, give her until the end of the week to cool off, and bring her flowers. Chocolates, ice cream, movies-” He rambles, “Whatever. I wanted to make her fall in love with me again. But- I mean, that didn’t fucking work, did it?”

Carole’s too distraught to scold him for his language. He deserves it, he deserves to climb onto the roof and shout ‘fuck!’ as loud as he wants. The situation is truly fucked, there’s no other word for it.

Her chest ripples with a sob, and Nick’s hand comes to rub her back. Up and down, in soft, soothing motions that remind her why she fell for him.

“And- and then I woke up in the hospital, and my head was fuzzy, and my memories were gone. And the doctor told me I had amnesia, and she- she freaked. She ran off, she made that shitty bathroom excuse. I thought she was just going to cry, and- and didn’t want anyone seeing her. But everything came back to me while you two were outside,” Bradley glances guiltily at Carole, “-and- and I was gonna beg her to stay when she came back. But then- she asked to kiss me,” He whimpers, face held tight in a twisted grimace as he tries not to sob again, “-and I had a choice. I realized she was pretending, that- that it never happened. And I could choose to confess to remembering the truth, and lose her all over again, or-” Bradley shuts his eyes, squeezing a tear out of the left one, “Or pretend I didn’t know. And I wanted her- I needed her, so I pretended. I let her kiss me, and I let her-” He sniffles hard, “I let her hold my hand, and I let her feed me, and I let her lie to me. I loved it,” He cries, shoulders shaking with sobs, “I loved it when she lied to me. And I don’t want her to stop. At- at first, I thought she’d confess. That she’d tell me so that we could forgive and forget, or- or at least move forward. Because I want to, I want to forgive her, I already have, but she just won’t tell me anything happened. She was so-” He considers, voice heavy with despair, “So sweet in the hospital. It felt like nothing had happened at all, and I thought we could go back to that. We got so damn close,” He recalls, “We were- we were in the hospital room, alone, and she was just starting to tell me, and a fucking nurse walked in. We were this close!” Bradley sobs, fingers held a few tantalizing centimeters apart, “But now- now she keeps dodging the questions, and I started realizing that she-” He sniffles roughly, “-she might not want me back. She might leave if she knows I know. She’s doing it out of pity,” He chokes on his words, “So now I can’t tell her. Now I have to lie unless I want to lose her.”

Nick looks sick to his stomach, and Carole feels the same. They’re sharing horrified glances, but neither wants to berate him for lying to them. Nick reaches out to hold Bradley’s hand, and he squeezes it reassuringly.

“I get it, Brad. I do. I- if you don’t mind me asking, why did she leave? I thought-” He trails off, picking back up with even less confidence, “I thought you were soulmates, or something.”

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes, nodding, “I did, too. But she- she told me she couldn’t love me anymore. And I didn’t want to make her.”

“She told you she couldn’t love you anymore?” Nick rears back to stare questioningly at Carole, “What does that mean?”

“She’d been weird lately,” Bradley admits, “Sort of withdrawn. She wasn’t as enthusiastic in the mornings, when I’d go to work. But she always seemed fine when I came back- great, even. And I just figured she wasn’t sleeping right. But- but since Coyote crashed, I've been... scared. I had this sort of epiphany, that I could die any day and she’d be left all alone. I could die before we got married, I could die before we had kids, I could die before I got to grow old with her. I mean, I knew it was a risk,” He reasons, “But that was real. I watched that happen, and I watched his girlfriend sob in the waiting room, and I realized that could be Y/N. And I didn’t want my girlfriend terrified outside my hospital room, I wanted to say goodbye to my wife. So I thought-” He wipes a tear from his cheek, rough enough to leave it stained red, “I thought if I married her, things would be better. More secure. And she’d know that even if I died, I’d love her forever. Because that’s what marriage is, that’s- that’s what we were.”

“So I ignored the way she was acting,” Bradley laments, “I- I pushed it aside as sleep deprivation, and I pulled out a ring, and I asked her if she’d marry me. And she- she just flipped. Her eyes got all wide, and I kept waiting for her to say ‘yes’, but- but she stood up instead, and she said no. She said she wasn’t ready, that- that she couldn’t do this. That she couldn’t marry me, that she couldn’t love me anymore. And I was-” He breaks into a sob, “I was so confused. I was so hurt, because- because what? What- where did that come from? I thought she loved me,” He cries, “I thought she’d love me forever. And all of a sudden, she just can’t anymore? What happened, did- did she not want to be with me forever? Was twenty years not enough? To convince her that I was enough? I was so terrified, and I had this disgusting, sinking feeling as she was rambling about it, and she headed for the door, and I- I panicked.”

Bradley pants between sentences, breathing heavy and labored as tears spill down his cheeks. “I followed her, and I caught her by the door, and I- I begged her not to go, I told her that we could work it out, that we didn’t have to get married, that I’d make everything okay again. But she still left,” Bradley cries, “She still left me, and she didn’t come back.”

“Bradley,” Nick breathes, a hand on his knee, “Shit, Brad. I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Carole croons, leaning in to brace her forehead against his temple, “Baby, I’m so sorry. She’s- I wish she hadn’t done that.”

“Me too,” Bradley laughs, a humorless huff after he’s gotten enough control of himself to where he doesn’t sob, “But- but she’s pretending now. And if I confess to remembering, she’ll stop. And she’ll leave. She’s- she’s doing it out of pity,” Bradley drearily repeats, “Because she doesn’t want to drop a bomb on me after I fell out of the sky. And I know it’s not right to take advantage of it, to- to lie, but if it’s what I have to do to keep her with me-”

“No,” Nick shakes his head, “Brad, you can’t lie forever.”

“I can,” Bradley insists, “Dad, I have to.”

“You can’t,” Nick urges, “Brad, think about it. You really think she’d be kissin’ you if she didn’t love you? You think she’d have slept in here with you last night if she didn’t want to? You listen to me, boy. I don’t know why she left. I don’t know why she ‘couldn’t’ love you all of a sudden. But I know it’s bullshit, ‘cause she does. Something happened, and you need to talk about it with her. But spending your entire life living a lie isn’t right. That ain’t fair, to you or her. Tell her, Brad. Tell her you know.”

“I can’t! Not yet. I’ll- I’ll make her fall in love with me again. I know I can do it, I know I can convince her I’m worth it. That she can keep loving me. I’m not going to hold her captive, I just- I just want enough time to make her fall for me again, and then she won’t be lying about the love, then it’ll be real love, and that’s what I want. I can’t tell her yet, not until she really loves me again.”

“You have to tell her now, baby,” Carole concludes softly, gentle with her son’s broken heart and panicked brain, “Wouldn’t it be better if she knew? Then you could talk, and- and kiss and make up, that sort of thing. This is- a lie, Bradley, even if it's only temporary in your mind. You’re both lying to each other, and that’s not love."

“It’s all I’ve got,” Bradley breathes, tilting his tear-stained, blotchy face towards the light overhead. His eyes are shut, delicately so, and his lashes are clumped with tears. He sniffles, nose scrunching, and takes a deep breath before looking back at his parents.

“I know she said she can’t love me anymore, whatever that means. But like I said, I’m gonna win her over again, mom. I need her to love me, and if my options are letting her lie to me, or losing her, then I’m gonna let her lie to me until she doesn’t have to anymore. Until it’s real.”

Carole wants to scream at her son. She wants to sit you down beside him and scream something along the lines of ‘Would you confess already? Tell each other the truth, and get married!’. But she chooses a gentler approach, leaning in to wipe away what she hopes is the last of Bradley’s tears.

“I don’t think you should avoid it, baby,” She hums, keeping her voice soft and sweet so that Bradley takes it as friendly advice, and not a mother’s nagging, “I think you should tell her that you remember it all, and ask her what went wrong. Ask her why she felt like she couldn’t love you anymore, figure out what the problem was. Because if you know what the problem was, you can fix it.”

“But what if I can't-?” Bradley hums, and Carole snaps.

“Oh, of course you can fix it.” A residual dry sob splits her thought in half, “You two could fix world hunger if you did it together. Your dad’s right. She still loves you, even if she thinks she can’t. You might have to help her see that she still can, Brad. That she still does.”

“But I could lose her.” Bradley concludes glumly, “And I can’t lose her. So I can’t tell her the truth. I- I thought I lost her today." His shoulders tighten as he remembers, "I was trying to stay awake the whole night, just in case she tried slipping out before morning. But she caught me, and she-” He lets out a sob that hurts his throat, “She held me, and she lulled me to sleep, and I’ve never felt safer. But then I woke up, and she was gone, and the bed was empty, and- and I ran out to see if I could find her, and she was just in the hall. Talking to Mav. But I thought-” He can’t finish his sentence, shaking his head instead and starting over, “I can’t tell her the truth yet. I’ll lose her.”

They’re all running in circles, and it’s making Carole insane. She bites her lip to stop from confessing, then rises to her feet, Nick following after her.

“Sleep on it,” She suggests, smoothing out the bedsheets where she’d sat, “And she’ll be back by the time you wake up. I think you should tell her,” She repeats, “She loves you, Brad. Goodnight.”

Nick takes his leave as well, nodding at his wife’s words. Bradley slumps back against his- your pillow, one hand already snaking beneath the opposite one to retrieve your picture.

Nick barely waits until Carole’s shut the door behind her before turning on her, “What the fuck?”

“Move,” She urges in a hissing whisper. She grabs his bicep, dragging him away from the door. She doesn’t feel safe talking anywhere in the house, paranoid that Bradley could hear, but she pushes NIck down into a seat at the table, and huddles close to him to murmur, “I knew.”

“You- you what?” Nick’s voice goes up in volume, and Carole is sure she spits a little bit when she shushes him.

“I knew,” She repeats, “I knew she left him. She told me at the hospital.”

“Why am I never in the loop?” NIck groans, looking thoroughly confused, “Wait, so you knew the entire time? Like, from day 1?”

“Day one of the hospital,” She nods, “She didn’t tell me when it happened, she waited until I asked where her ring was after his crash. I knew he was gonna ask her, but he told me to keep it a secret ‘cause he wanted to do a big reveal. But I noticed she didn’t have it on in the hospital, and I asked, and she burst into tears. Started ramblin’ about how she was freaked out, and how she fled, and wasn’t ever brave enough to come back.”

“Why,” Nick presses, “Why was she freaking out? What’s the ‘can’t love you anymore’ bullshit?”

“She got scared after Javy went down,” Carole recalls, “She said it took her back to your crash, and she realized all of a sudden that it could happen to Brad, too. And she didn’t wanna do that again, 'didn’t wanna sit in a hospital chair and wait to see if someone she loved had stopped breathing. So she’d been freakin’ out since Javy crashed, then all of a sudden Bradley proposes, and- bam,” She sighs, “Everything fell apart. I mean it was a recipe for disaster, the crash made her pull away, and it made him want to be closer than ever, and they never addressed it, so when they clashed, it just-” She rubs her temples, staring up at Nick through her lashes, “Unraveled. But this is good. This is- this is really good, Nick. He wants her back, he wants another shot. And so does she. We’ve been talkin’, and she wishes she’d never left in the first place. I told her she should confess later tonight, now- that was before I knew he already knows, of course. But- but they’ll talk tonight, and she’ll tell him what happened, and she’ll ask to fix things, and he’ll want that, too. It’s gonna be okay, Nick, they’re gonna be okay. They’ll be fine by the end of the night, I guarantee it.”

“My head is spinning,” Nick scoffs, dragging a hand down his mustache and tugging lightly on the ends, “So- so they both know, they just don’t know they know, but we know that they know, and we know that they don’t know they know, and-” He gives up, “I don’t know.”

“That’s about right,” Carole nods, eyes bugging for a moment before she heaves another sigh, “I think she’s tellin’ Mav about it now. He overheard us talking about a secret, that secret. So when he volunteered to go shopping with her I figured he was gonna ask. And I don’t think she’d lie to him, I don’t think she could if she tried.”

“This is all so goddamn complicated,” Nick laments, clearing a crumb off of the table, but ultimately just flicking it onto the floor, “We were easy, babe. I mean, we locked eyes and I was having visions of you in a white dress.”

“Stop,” Carole gushes, but a smile is growing on her face, “Love is complicated sometimes! Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I’m just glad none of this shit happens to us,” Nick grins, holding out a hand, “You and me, honey, we’re easy love.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Carole gushes, though she gives him her hand willingly, “What are we, hippies?”

“I said easy, not free,” Nick laughs, “Nothin’ about our wedding was free, baby.”

“But you’d pay it all again, for me, wouldn’t you?” She narrows her eyes unamused at him, and he squeezes her hand.

“Honey, I’d spend every cent to my name just to be able to marry you over again.” Nick swears, and it’s the truth, they both know it. Carole gives him one of her sweet smiles, the one he’d fallen in love with, and each has renewed hope for you and Bradley. You’re in love just the same as them, and if they’ve got it worked out, so will you.

Grocery shopping with your dad is harder than you’d remembered, because now you’re the adult paying with your own money, and he’s the child throwing cookies and chips galore into the cart. You’re surprised you have any money left when you exit the supermarket, but you’re sure to pack 3 bags of Bradley’s cheetos into your stash. You wonder how he’s doing; if he’s asleep, if he’s fighting his parents to stay upright while they try to get him to rest, if he’s suddenly remembered everything he’d forgotten and now they’re helping him pack his things.

The thought of him leaving you makes your stomach burn white hot with fear, and you consider speeding home. But the load of groceries you’d gotten might have depleted any money you’d be able to pay the fine with, and you’re not keen on going to prison. So you and your dad drive home within the speed limit, and he helps you carry the bulging bags inside.

You’re simultaneously desperate to see Bradley, and hoping that you don’t when you walk in. On one hand, you hope he’s resting, napping in your bed like you’d asked him to. But on the other, if you don’t see him when you walk in, that means he might not even be in the house, and maybe you were right to catastrophize, maybe he’s gone, maybe he’s left you and asked his parents to drive him to the airport, and maybe he’s blocked you and told his teammates how awful you are, and-

And his parents are sitting on the couch. They turn back to smile at you when you come in, and both stand to help you with your bags. Your dad insists that he can manage all five that he’d lifted out of the car, but you’re eager to let Nick steal two of yours, and Carole takes the last one even though you tell her you can manage.

You busy yourself with putting the groceries away, and your dad busies himself with raiding the bags for the snacks he’d picked out. You’re sure he’ll slip a $20 into your purse later, he’s never let you pay for him, but he loves teasing you like he’ll dine and dash.

“Alright,” He announces, with hands full of junk food, “I’m outta here. I’m gonna head back home, I need to stock my pantry, then make dinner.”

“And that dinner wouldn’t be mint chip oreos, would it?” Carole raises an unimpressed brow at him and his junk food stash, and he rolls his eyes fondly at the woman.

“No. Penny has requested a very complicated pasta dish for tonight that I need at least three hours to make in case I mess up the first batch and need to restock ingredients to try it again. I think she’s testing me.”

“Good luck, buddy.” Nick claps your dad on the back, “Hope you pass.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s eyes go wide, a sigh escaping him, “Me too. Y/N, uh-”

“Tell him.” Carole cuts in, eyes as intense as you’ve ever seen them despite the smile on her face. You know she means business, and you don’t blame her.

Nick doesn't look confused by her cryptic, vague statement, and you assume she’s filled him in. You suppose it’s only fair, because your dad knows now, too, but you hadn’t planned on making it a public affair. Nick doesn’t seem to despise you, though, in fact he sends you a reassuring smile as he herds Carole to the door.

“We’re going, too. He’s asleep,” He nods toward your bedroom, “Tell him, honey.”

Your suspicions are confirmed; he knows. You nod hesitantly, watching them pile into the entryway and take their empty grocery bags with them. All except for your dad, of course, who packs his snacks into one. You’re hit with an overwhelming sense of being blessed, not necessarily with divine miracles, but with people who just might be them. They’ve come, they’ve given you food, love, and encouragement, and they’re leaving so that you can have a chance at fixing up the best part of your life.

If they notice your teary eyes when you wave goodbye, they don’t mention it.

The groceries are put away, and you have no desire to take down the decorations. Not when you’re aching with fatigue, not when your emotions have gotten the best of you for two weeks. You don’t have much energy for anything anymore, and you haven’t since you’d left Bradley. You wonder, if the worst happens, and he doesn’t forgive you, will you ever stop being tired? Is it Bradley that energizes you, is it the love that he’s so ready and willing to give you that keeps you going?

You’d like to think you’d be able to pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and move on with your life, but after twenty years of loving Bradley and being loved back by him, you know this is the only life worth living.

You drag your exhausted limbs down the hallway, cracking open the door to find that Nick was telling the truth - he’s fast asleep.

He’s on his stomach, his cheek squished sideways against the pillow. He’s snoring lightly, a sound that you should despise, but that prompts a grin over your face. You feel nothing but soft, sweet love for him in this moment, your snoozy boy.

You’re more than happy to crawl in beside him, barely remembering to take your shoes off before getting beneath the sheets. It’s warm beneath the blanket, the safe kind of warmth that draws you in with the promise of drowsy cuddles and whispered proclamations of love. You do just that as you snuggle up to Bradley’s side, adoring the way that he moves in his sleep to curl around you even if he doesn’t know you’re there.

“I love you, Brad,” You whisper against his temple, kissing his hairline and the prickly whisps that sit at its border. He’s roused from his sleep from how close you’d spoken to his ear, and it looks physically painful for him to open his eyes. He does, though, lifting his face so that his chin perches on your chest. He blinks blearily at you, once, twice, probably drowsy out of his mind.

“Hm?”

His voice is groggy, thick with sleep. It’s the most endearing sound you’ve ever heard, and you crane your neck forwards to bump your nose into his as you repeat it: “I love you, Brad.”

His typical puppyish aura becomes more cat-like as he smushes his face into your own, nose smearing against your skin and forehead bumping into yours. He hums deep in his throat, happy to have you beside him as his hands wind tightly around your waist.

“Love you too, babe.” He rasps, “Gonna sleep w’me?”

“Yeah,” You whisper, smoothing his hair out of his face, “Lay down, baby, I’ll rub your back.”

His only reply is plopping his face back down into your chest, cheek chubbed up where it rests on your shirt. He’s out like a light almost as soon as you start raking your fingers up and down his back, ghosting them over his skin like you’re trying to do it without him knowing.

You know he’s sleeping by now, you know he doesn’t need you to keep doing it, but the fact that you get to feels like a gift, and you occupy yourself with the task of scrawling random designs over his back for a few minutes longer. Swirls and waves turn into a curve down his spine, and then you connect it with an identical one over his other side; a heart. One heart becomes two, then three, and all of a sudden he’s covered in them. You’re carving paths into his skin, digging heart-shaped trenches down his back like you’re walking the same path in a dirt road every single day. You wonder if he’d look good with them tattooed, an expansive mural of your love on his back for only you to see.

All of a sudden hearts aren’t enough.

LOVE

YOU

You trace letters into his back, your nail scraping slightly on every curve of your finger. He shivers slightly at the bottom half of the ‘y’, and you bite back a giggle as he nestles further into you.

You don’t stop there.

YOU

ARE

CUTE

It seems only appropriate with the way he’s snuggled up to you like a sleepy puppy, desperate to press every inch of his body against your own.

LOVE

YOU

Again, then- your breath catches in your throat as you remember.

I’M

SORRY

Tears prick at your eyes when his arms tighten infinitesimally around your waist, a sleepy hum oozing from his throat like sweet honey, slow and sugary. You’re worried he’s awake, that he’s caught onto what you’re doing, and wants to talk. You know you have to tell him, you just don’t want to.

But he settles without so much as the blink of an eye, and you wait only a quick second to start using his back as your diary once more.

I’M

SORRY

WISH

I’D

STAYED

LOVE

YOU

You feel absolutely pathetic. Tears have leaked down your face, sideways into the bases of your ears, creating an uncomfortable wet sensation that you’d rather there not be. You’re trying to hold in a sob so that you don’t wake him, but it hurts. Your throat aches from holding in your anguish, and your chest aches with the knowledge that everything you’ve done with Bradley over the past few days could be your last time doing it with him. This morning could have been your last morning with him, this nap could be your last nap with him, the kiss you strain to press to his forehead could be the last kiss you ever give him. It’s all too much, and your finger tapers off in its pursuit of tracing your love letters onto his back.

You wrap your arms around him instead, a difficult position to maintain while simultaneously trying to sleep, but all you want is to drift off in his embrace, just in case this is the last time you’ll ever do it.

Between your exhaustion and your despair, the former wins out. You finally drift off into a dreamless sleep, burdened by the ever-present threat of this being the last day you can pretend like this. You’re talking tonight, whether you like it or not, and the thought plagues what could have been a very relaxing, rejuvenating nap with your lover.

Instead you wake up possibly less refreshed than before, bleary eyes blinking despite a pounding headache behind your eyes. The sun has shifted over the blankets you’re under, and Bradley isn’t on top of you anymore, he’s by your side. You’ve swapped positions, and you don’t know how he’d managed to maneuver you onto his chest without waking you, but he’s always exceptionally careful with you, so you’re sure you’d slept like a baby the entire time.

He’s still in his fuzzy pajamas, and you wish you were, too. He’s holding his phone above your head, presumably scrolling through social media, or news headlines he’s forgotten about since his accident, and his eyes are fixed on the phone screen. You have a quick second to admire him before he realizes you’re up, and your eyes rove over his features. His lips are quirked up delicately in the corners, his mustache dipping down ever-so-slightly over his bottom lip. His eyes hold a fond look that reminds you of honey, paired excellently with his caramel-colored bedhead.

His color has returned completely; if you didn’t get the call that he’d been an inch from death, you wouldn’t know now. But you know his injuries are more internal, and you’re worried about how he’s laid you over his chest.

You’re in no rush to let him know you’re awake, so you ogle him some more. He swipes left a few times at the screen, and you think he might be looking between pictures. Of what, you’re not sure, maybe a tiktok slideshow of cute cats or of Hangman’s nieces at the playground. You’ve never met them, but the amount of pictures he sends of them makes it feel like you yourself gave birth to them.

He gets a notification and glances at it, but when his eyes drop back to the subject on the screen, they go lower than he’d intended, and he sees your open eyes blinking owlishly at him. In a second he’s forgotten about his phone, but he keeps it in his hand to avoid dropping it on your head.

His face doesn’t light up, it blooms. There’s no jarring explosion of happiness, no sudden firework show of joy, but his grin widens smooth and steady, like a vine crawling a garden wall. His eyes ooze with adoration, and you’d kiss them if that wouldn’t hurt him. His free hand tightens where it had been thrown around your waist, and he looks residually sleepy as he smiles down at you. He must not have woken very long ago.

“Hi, angel,” He hums, and you feel his slightly raspy voice vibrate through his chest. He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, and you reciprocate like a cat in need of affection. You wriggle up by his side, peering at his screen while simultaneously nestling yourself against him.

It’s a picture of the two of you together.

You’re at the zoo, and there’s a giraffe behind you, eager to see if Bradley’s phone contained any lettuce. It didn’t, but after the animal had tested its theory Bradley’s right speaker wouldn’t work until he got it replaced. It was a very pricey snack. He gives you a moment to admire it, then swipes to the right, back to one of the pictures he’d been looking at before. It’s you pressed up against the glass at the penguin exhibit, one of the little birds curiously following your finger against the glass. He swipes rapidly now, all through photos of you, most containing him as well.

You realize he’s looking only at pictures of you, and your heart just about stops in your chest. It doesn’t know whether to swell with love for the boy, or shrivel at the knowledge that he might delete them when he knows the truth.

“Oh, Brad,” You breathe, “You’re looking at pictures of us?”

“Mostly us. A lot of just you, though,” He admits, “I’m trying to jog my memory.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You nod, “Is it-” You break off with a yawn, “Is it working?”

“No,” His smile dims, “Uh, not really. I don’t know. It’s like- I want them back, so this chunk of my life isn’t just missing. But I almost died- and,” He stops, eyes no longer focused on the screen, merely staring through it, “I don’t think I want to remember that.”

“I’m sorry, Brad.’ You tell hum, because you are. You’re sorry he can’t remember anything, you’re sorry he will remember everything, and you’re sorry you remember everything. “I’d swap with you in a second,” You promise, but it means more than you let on. You yearn for amnesia, you wish you didn’t have to remember making the stupidest mistake of your life and losing your love. You’d fall out of the sky if it meant you could forget what you’d done to him that night.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” He smiles sadly at you, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll get through it. Whatever happens, s’long as I’ve got you.”

You hope he doesn't hear your voice tremble when you reply, “Yeah. You've got me.”

Bradley resumes scrolling through pictures, and his lips quirk up more at each image he sees.

“Remember this?” He angles the phone further towards you, “When Mav almost fell off of that fishing boat, and my dad almost fell in trying to stop him?”

“And your mom almost fell in laughing,” You grin, tucking the expression into his neck, “We should go fishing again, sometime.”

Hope blooms in his chest at your suggestion. He’s being extra endearing today, intent on reminding you just how much you used to love him. He wants to make himself worth it for you, he wants you to want to love him again, and the fact that you’ve suggested a future outing gives him hope that you might share that future together.

“We should,” He agrees, swiping to see a photo of you in his baseball cap, holding up a fish you’d caught with a giddy grin.

“Good catch,” He praises you, rubbing his arm up and down your side, “He looks surprised.”

“I would be too, if I ate a worm and it dragged me to some giants in a boat,” You shrug, “Plus, I let him go after. He was fine.”

“You’re a very ethical fisherman,” Bradley muses, “My dad only let his go because it flopped out of his hand.”

“He’s accidentally ethical,” You giggle, “The tail almost slapped him in the face.”

“I would have paid a fortune to see that,” Bradley gushes, his fingers digging ticklishly into your side, “Let’s hope he fishes up an old boot or something this time.”

“Like in a cartoon?” You rear back to laugh incredulously at Bradley, “I don’t think people really fish up boots, Brad.”

“I’ll chuck a boot in the lake just to see his face,” Bradley promises, and the giggles you two share harmonize the twang of your heartstrings.

The next photo Bradley swipes to is a New Year’s Eve one, your traditional pose with a much more confident kiss, this time around. It’s from this past year, and you marvel at how much you’ve both grown since the awkward teens you’d seen earlier.

“Oh, that reminds me,” You gush, almost kneeing him in the already-cracked ribs as you scramble for the photo album on the bookshelf, “Let’s look at these, Brad, they’re so cute.”

He almost points out the failure in your logic, even if he does want to see the pictures. He nearly asks you why you’d look at incredibly old pictures to jog recent memories, but then all of a sudden he’s hit with the thought that those might help his case, and he shuts up. He wants you to remember how much you used to love him, or, if you still do, how it was once worth it for you to do so. How once upon a time, you could love him, and maybe if you see enough baby pictures of the two of you together, loving each other since you’d opened your eyes for the first time, that maybe you’d decide you could love him again.

You rush back to the bed with the cover already cracked, though you show it off with a gooey grin, “You were enamored with me from the moment you saw me, Brad.”

“Of course I was,” He laughs, ringing his arm around your neck to hug you tight to his side while you flip to the first page. He peers at your scrunched-up baby face, vague memories of kissing your nose flashing through his mind from when you were younger, and it was the only thing that could get you to stop crying.

“You’ve always been the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He swipes a finger over a photo of you together, stroking it along your cheek where he was feeding you mushed-up green beans. “See? I was so entranced I didn’t even notice you were about to kick me.”

He points to your tiny foot, clothed in a onesie with dogs on it, and poised ready to fire. You’d bet money that right after the photo had been taken, you had launched your foot into his knee, and you hope little Bradley wasn’t brought to tears over it.

“Sorry, baby,” You hum, voice just as sticky-sweet as your kiss is against his cheek. He leans into it, but you’re not expecting it, so you smear a bit more spit over his face than you’d intended to. However, when you laugh incredulously and try to wipe it off, he wriggles away from your shirtsleeve, insisting on keeping the mark.

“No! I fell out of the sky three days ago,” Bradley gripes, head held high, “I get to keep all of the gross kisses you give me.”

“I’d launch a gross kiss attack if I wasn’t worried about hurting your ribs,” You lament, settling back into his side, “Oh, Brad, look at this one!”

It was your first Halloween together. Bradley’s sporting a yellow hat in the picture, with bear ears on top, and a red shirt over his chubby baby belly. His pants are the same shade as his hat, and you’re the Piglet to his Winnie the Pooh as you sit in a pink onesie and matching ear-hat in his little lap.

You tug the photo out of its sleeve, reading Carole’s neat inscription on the back: Bradley cried just a few minutes after we took this, because we looked away for a second and when we turned back he was feeding Y/N a snickers bar. We didn’t mean to yell, but we freaked out and spooked him, and he wouldn’t stop crying unless we told him he could finish the rest of the bar. Winnie the Pooh does NOT like raised voices.

“Crybaby,” You tease, and Bradley groans.

“I was a kid! They yelled at me! Of course I cried!”

“Poor baby, you just wanted to feed me chocolate,” You croon, turning sympathetic at the sight of his exasperated brown eyes, “You’ve always been good to me, Brad.”

“Always,” He promises, squeezing you tighter, then pointing at the next page over, “Aw, look at this one. They dressed you up as the turkey for thanksgiving.”

“We fell asleep in front of the fire,” You recall, not from memory but from the stories you’ve been told, and the pictures you’d seen, “We were both milk drunk and stuffed from dinner.”

“Still nappin’ together all these years later,” Bradley grins, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Let’s nap together forever,” You sigh as you nestle your cheek back against his arm. His confidence builds the more you suggest a future together, and he thinks that what his dad had been telling him might have been right; maybe you do still love him, maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe you do just need a little convincing, and he’s happy to show you how great he can be for you.

“Here’s my first snowman,” Bradley hums, pointing to a picture that’s exactly as it was described. You’re on vacation together and he’s the snowman, bundled in a thousand layers of winter gear and still shivering from the cold as Nick piles snow around him in three tiers. You're sitting off to his left, eating a chunk out of his icy side.

“Your little nose is so red!” You croon, nearly melting in fondness for baby Bradley, “He was so mean!”

“I’m surprised I didn’t get frostbite. I bet my mom gave him the lecture of a lifetime for that one.” Bradley snickers, “Mav probably had to take us both into the other room so she could swear.”

“She swore at me the other day,” You recall, and Bradley’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“What? Why?”

You realize too late that you can’t really tell him the reason, but you shake your head dismissively, “It was when we were at the hospital. She was just stressed, ‘s all.”

Bradley’s half worried about his mom, and half worried about you. He’s concerned that his accident had stressed her out enough to swear, something she never did, but he’s concerned that it had been at the wrong time for you, that she’d only made your secret situation worse by snapping at you for something unrelated.

You just hope he never finds out that she’d known from the start.

“Look,” You prompt, “There’s another picture of us napping in here, right-” You flip through a substantial amount of pages, “Here.”

Your finger lands on a photo of you and Bradley at fifteen, harboring crushes on each other almost too big to hide. It seems like everyone but yourselves had known you were going to get together, and you flash your dad’s inscription on the back at him with an exasperated smile.

Next time, I’m making them leave the door open when they study.

You’re definitely not doing anything scandalous, but years in the navy had taught your father to be hypervigilant around men. He’d rather you be with Bradley than absolutely anyone else in the world, of course, he knew the boy was kind-hearted, but he was still a boy, and it was difficult for him to be one-hundred percent on board with the situation while you were still teenagers.

You’re slumped against each other on the bed, being held up only by the other’s opposite weight. You’re balanced precariously, and if either of you had shifted slightly, you’d both have toppled. But it seems you’d dozed off while reading a Physics textbook, and you don’t blame yourself at all.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt the phrase ‘walking down memory lane’ to be more accurate. Each turn of the page, each rectangular piece of photo paper tucked beneath its cellophane sleeve really does transport you back in time, and you feel like you’re holding Bradley’s hand while strolling through your memories. You want to steer clear of the dark, gaping hole on his own lane, and to do so, you flip to his twenty-first birthday photo.

It’s not one that your parents had taken; they don’t know it exists. Bradley’s crouched beneath you as you spit a shot into his mouth, probably spilling some onto the gray fabric of his t-shirt. You had still technically been twenty at the time, and you’d had his birthday party at your mutual friends’ apartment, with much less strict of a bouncer than the one at the bar. You’d both gotten hammered that night, and he doesn’t remember much, but Bradley can confidently say no one else got their shots by drinking them out of your mouth.

“That was hot,” Bradley informs you, “We should do that again soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think concussions and alcohol mix,” You scoff, knocking your head against his own, “Ease up on the booze, Brad.”

“Oh, you’re such a worrier,” He teases, knowing full well you’re correct, “Look, there’s graduation.”

The college photo of you two is printed smaller here, and if you were an artist, you could draw it from memory. Every detail, the sprig of grass stuck to Bradley’s left sleeve, the slight squint to your eyes from the sun, everything is memorable because you’ve stared at it so many times.

“This is the one I keep under your pillow when you’re deployed,” You admit in a soft murmur, “It’s my favorite.”

Bradley means to respond to that, he really does. But there’s nothing he can think of saying that would be sufficient, nothing that could possibly convey the love and adoration he feels for you. Nothing that could tell you how lucky he is to love you, and to have been loved by you for all these years. And how terrified he is to lose you. The word deployment strikes a sour chord in his chest, and all of a sudden he’s wondering how he ever left you in the first place. Being at home while you were at the grocery store sent him into a spiral, he doesn’t know how he ever made it months without seeing you, hearing you, holding you.

“You gave up the Naval Academy for me,” You recall when he doesn’t respond, your voice quivering like a thin rope stretched tight, “I told you I was scared to go by myself, that I'd miss you, and you withheld your application from the academy. For me. Brad, you gave up your dream for me.”

It doesn’t take him any time at all to respond this time around, because the answer is easy and honest: “That’s not true. You were my dream, angel. You still are.”

“Brad,” Your face crumples, and you have to bury your face in his shoulder to withhold a sob. You clutch at the fabric of his shirt sleeve, heaving a heavy sigh once you’ve collected yourself, “I love you, Bradley. I- I want to fill out the rest of this book with you,” You reach for the pages, sticking your thumb into the spot between them where the album goes thin. You flip to the empty pages, “I want to sit in a home with you and stuff this book full with pictures of us all old and gray.” You sniffle, “I want to be with you forever, I- I want our grandchildren- no, our great-grandchildren to take the last pictures in this book,” You blubber, “I- I just love you so much.”

I love you.

I want to fill out the rest of this book with you.

I want to be with you forever.

I love you so much.

He hadn’t planned on rushing it. He wanted to draw it out, spend the next few days, weeks even, showing you how loved you are, and hoping you crawl out of your shell again, reciprocate the way you used to. But he can’t wait anymore, not now that you’ve told him you’re in this for life.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley gropes for the first drawer of his dresser with a blind, frantic hand. He locates the ring in no time flat, his other arm nearly crushing you into his side as he yanks the jewelry free of the sock it had been hidden under. He shoves it towards you, unceremonious, rushed, and messy, but with all the tender sweetness in his heart: “Y/N- Marry me?”

just a reminder in case you didn't read my author's note: life got in the way and I wasn't able to include their big talk in this part, but i've just extended it to a fourth part that will be posted next week! i'm sorry to keep you waiting longer, some very heavy stuff has gone on in my life lately and it was very hard to work on this. i hope you enjoyed, and i hope you understand! i'm sorry again for not finishing it when i said i would </3 buttt did you see the plot twist coming? i'm eager to hear what you think >:))))

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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savventeen · 10 months

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you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

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99zurins · 1 year

Text

summary: wonwoo knows a lot, especially how your thoughts get into your head. when he knows you had a bad week, he wants to shower you with the gentle love you always give him when his thoughts get into his head.

note: god its been ages since i posted but alas!! this was a request for a friend of mine, and it helped me get out of my writing slump. enjoy <3

pair: f!reader x jeon wonwoo

tags: soft bf!wonwoo, SMUT (minors dni), communication during sex, kink exploration, spit, slight choking, dirty talk, slight degradation, multiple positions (sorta), safe sex, oral (both m. and f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), orgasm denial, edging, pet names (wonwoo calls reader baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess), soft dom!wonwoo, reader goes into subspace, wonwoo takes care of reader, reader works at a clinic

word count: 6.9k

[ wonu : babe

wonu: how are you feeling? ]

like shit, you want to text him. i’m not ok. so much, too much, is happening all at once your brain doesn’t know what to process first. it’s been like this from monday morning: you were short-staffed because three co-workers got sick, people kept complaining about the wait times, what could you do, you just work here. tuesday to thursday was absolute hell: how does someone mess up inventory TWICE? your co-worker doesn’t know shit. how did she get hired anyway! you don’t want to even think about friday’s disaster. you called in sick today, because fuck the clinic, and made sure you swapped your closing shift at the bookstore with someone else. your head is in chaos, all while managing a terrible migraine.

from the tylenol, the long naps, to the drops of essential oil on your pillow– none of it isn’t even helping.

you haven’t spoken to your boyfriend for a few days, there’s the i love yous, occasional memes or cat pics he sends, but it’s been quiet. he’s been busy too, he got hired by a better design company, meaning better schedules and much well-deserved salary, and has been finishing up his last few shifts on his secondary job at a milk tea shop. but since he’s one of the long time workers at the shop, he’s been busy training newbies to replace him, hence why he’s been awake earlier than you, and comes home so late. you know he’s home when he quietly slips into bed after a shower, snuggling you from behind, holding your small frame. but you miss the cuddles when you play games together, the shared silence with him, looking at dumb cat videos. everything about him, really, you miss. even though you live with him now.

[wonu: are you at your bookstore job tonight?]

you first tell a truth: you called in sick for both of your jobs. then, you lie, saying your friend-slash-coworker is coming over to talk about stuff.

[wonu: don’t lie to me

wonu: babe

wonu: i know you had a bad week]

it was just busy, you respond. you’re busy, baby. you’re probably tired too. we can talk about this later.

[wonu: i’m not ever tired when it comes to you

wonu: i’m gonna leave work right now

wonu: idc]

you feel tears well up. you not replying back is all he needs to know.

wonwoo shows up in twenty minutes, holding a bag of takeout, bubbletea, and a cute stuffed animal. you wondered how on earth did he get here so fast, considering it takes him about thirty-five minutes to get to back home, but you’re too tired to say anything. all he does is give you a hug, plant a soft kiss on your head, and you try really hard not to cry. he does the thing where he scratches softly under your chin, like how he usually would greet a cat, while your head leans into his chest.

“hi baby,” wonwoo finally speaks, giving you a soft smile. it fades when his cold fingertips linger around your cheekbones, and stops below your dark circles. “long week?”

“mm.” you try to pretend everything is okay. he knows you aren’t. he places more gentle kisses between your eyes and on the bridge of your nose.

“was hoping you would tell me, actually.” wonwoo quietly locks the front door, takes off his shoes, and you quickly scramble to find him some house sandals that would fit him. “baby, it’s okay, I don’t need slippers. none of them fit me, remember?”

wonwoo doesn’t wear the house slippers because the five house pairs are all yours. you insist on getting him a pair, he always refuses. you cough out a laugh, and you hear wonwoo giggle.

“right, i forgot, sorry,” you mumble. “what food did you get?”

“i got you your favourite,” pho from the restaurant where you had your first date with him in. it’s his favourite, too, “i got us a matcha cake slice and a strawberry one to share, too.” cakes from the cafe on the third date.

you nod quietly, and you watch him leave the takeout on the table. he pulls out a container (which is most likely the cakes), and grabs the two plastic forks.

“wonwoo, i’m not…” hungry, you trail off, you weren’t in the mood to eat, but wonwoo looks over at you, with such tenderness. his black turtleneck hugs his torso nicely, square glasses makes him look like a nerd, when did he get a haircut? and he looks over at you, attentive and with endearment. sometimes you wonder how you deserved him. “i’m…”

wonwoo finishes putting the takeout on the table, and approaches you with quiet steps. he cocks his head to the side, a motion to tell you come here, love, and you take a few steps closer, fiddling with the sleeves of the navy oversized sweatshirt (which belongs to wonwoo).

“how can i be here for you, baby?” he pulls you closer, rubbing small circles on your scalp with his thumb. you don’t really respond, but all you do is plant your face straight to his chest, wrapping your arms around his frame. you feel a low chuckle erupt from his chest. “baby, i’m not sure how my chest is… supportive enough.”

“well, they’re bigger than mine! it’s comfy!” you whine quietly, and wonwoo laughs at your answer. he embraces you, slightly moving side to side.

“i do want an answer, if you’re able to tell me.”

“um,” you hum, looking up to him, while he still scratches your head. “i kind of just want to cuddle… tell me about your new hires, or show me dumb videos of mingyu and seungkwan being stupid again, i really don’t wanna think about what this shitty week has done to me.”

“okay, we can do that.” he hums, and scoops you up, holding you like a sack of rice.

“why are you holding me like this.”

“i wanna open the door.”

“i…” you suddenly remember the bowl of pho sitting on the table. “wait, wonwoo, the pho–”

“we have a microwave.”

“i can walk to put it away first!”

“i wanna spoil you, princess. you deserve something good. no need to think about anything.”

you feel your brain go sideways.

“… okay.” you mumble, kissing the side of his head, ignoring the heat flushing in your cheeks, and the faded pink tint in wonwoo’s ears.

wonwoo puts you on the bed, and wraps you in a blanket burrito after a little cute protest and some kisses, telling you to wait while he quickly freshens up. you feel like you’re gonna fall off the bed, why did your boyfriend put you by the edge of the bed? idiot. after showering, he changes to a comfortable black muscle tee (gifted by soonyoung) and gray sweatpants. when he returns to the bedroom, he turns on the lampshade before shutting off the main light in the bedroom. he goes back by the bed, and unrolls you out from the blanket burrito, giggling as you find yourself rolling towards the middle of the bed.

“wonwoo, what the fuck,” you find it so silly, you’re trying to contain your laughter but it’s not working. you feel wonwoo climb up on the bed, and wonwoo seems like he’s having fun removing (more like unrolling) you out of the blanket. wonwoo starts pressing a few of your pressure points gently, making you giggle even more. “what are you, FUCK, that tickles, STOP THAT!”

“noooo,” wonwoo sounds like a child, and pushes off the final part of the blanket off your body. you’re laughing loudly on the bed, as wonwoo carefully pulls you up but you feel limp from laughing. he helps you sit up in front of him, and you think he’s finished with his confusing act, but he grabs the blanket, wraps you both in it, proceeds to embrace you close, and accidentally manhandles you, him hitting the bed while you’re on top of him. “oh, this wasn’t what i planned to do.”

“what?” you ask him. “manhandle me?”

“yeah, i got too excited, i’m sorry, baby.”

“well, if it makes you feel better,” you trace shapes on his cheekbones with your finger. “i liked it. had no thought in my head, just vibes.”

“mm,” wonwoo just hums, lightly patting your butt. a hand rests behind his own head, inadvertently flexing, and you mindlessly trace the healed floral ink that wraps around his bicep. “one of the new hires likes fruits basket, it reminded me of you.”

“WHAAAAAT?” you look at him with excitement gleaming in your eyes. you slap his chest lightly. “tell me more, tell me more!”

“well, she has a tattoo of kyo’s bracelet and named her pet hamster after yuki.” wonwoo says, playing with your hair. wonwoo started watching the series for you, although he hasn’t finished yet. “although she likes kuroo?”

“oh! kureno.”

“is he a bad person?” he likes to know what’s he in for at times, so some spoilers are okay.

“he falls in love with a minor.”

“oh.”

“yeah, it’s gross,” you sigh as you feel wonwoo massage your scalp. “oh that’s nice, by the way, did your manager allow you to take the cat apron?”

“i can’t. jihoon sucks.”

“boooo! he sucks.”

“my baby can always embroider me one, right?”

“i crochet, not embroider!”

“same idea!”

“no its not!” you pinch his nose. his nose scrunches up, and he tries to playfully bite your fingers. you pinch him even harder, and you giggle over his over exaggerated expression of pain. “i should really finish making that cat hat for you.”

“take your time, baby,” he kisses the tip of your fingers. “don’t stress on it. oh, speaking of which, jihoon sent me footage of seungkwan and mingyu tripping during close yesterday. i don’t know why you find it amusing to see them struggle.”

“because they’re so funny together,” you laugh, as wonwoo uses a free hand to grab his phone on the nightstand. he opens it and scrolls, looking for the video. you turn your head, listening to his steady heartbeat. the scent of his lavender bodywash is faint. it lingers. “besides, mingyu complains about his antics with seungkwan to me at the clinic sometimes.”

“ah, not surprised.”

wonwoo opens the video, and since it is security footage, it’s muted. the quality is grainy. it’s a bit blurry. as wonwoo lightly taps a tune on the small of your back, you watch with curious eyes. seungkwan is mopping, while mingyu is seen refilling the containers with straws and wooden utensils. it doesn’t look much, but you see seungkwan tell mingyu something, but his footing is awkward, causing him to slip on the wet floor. seungkwan doesn’t fall on the ground, and mingyu is laughing at him, throwing his head back in amusement. mingyu suddenly slips backwards, falling on his side, and a bunch of straws fall on the floor. seungkwan looks like he’s gonna cry so much from laughing too hard. someone else (it looks like vernon) appears from the corner and stares at mingyu, whose still on the floor. he leaves. you and wonwoo snort loudly, you shutting your eyes hard because it’s too funny. he locks his phone and puts it back on the nightstand, stroking your head while you continue to laugh.

“god, they’re so stupid,” you shake your head. “how does jihoon deal with them?”

“he tries not to.” wonwoo halfly jokes, scrunching up his nose. you snicker. “at least they get the job done, and jihoon will be less stressed.”

“hopefully the new hires don’t fuck up.”

“i made sure they won’t.” wonwoo says, looking at you with endearment. you can’t help but move up, and kiss him. he smiles into the kiss, even taking a hold of your face as you pepper him with soft kisses. “you’re being more adorable today.”

“well, i feel like i miss you a lot more lately,” you lightly push his glasses up. “even though i see you everyday, i don’t know, it’s different this time.”

“how so?”

you still don’t want to think about the disaster the week has been. but you want your heart to be open. steady.

“sometimes, i forget i’m not alone,” you tell him. his attentive gaze never leaves your face. “and that i don’t have to… i don’t have to burden everything all at once. and i’m sorry if i feel like i’m not relying on you.”

“baby,” wonwoo cups your face and squishes your cheeks. you inadvertently let out a laugh. “don’t be sorry. please don’t ever be.”

“i know, but i…”

“you’re very important to me.” he strokes your cheekbone. “i am always here. i’m sorry if i appeared… distant lately. you don’t deserve that.”

“it’s okay, woo. i’m just overthinking.”

“it’s not…” he whispers, face softening. “you had a bad week, and me being busy isn’t an excuse to make sure my baby is okay. like i said, you’re very important to me, and the love you give me makes me so happy. i love you so much.”

“i love you so much too, wonwoo… how did i deserve you?” you feel your heart swell, and the urge to cry comes. “sometimes i wonder about that.”

“you deserve everything. and i’ll make sure i can give everything to you.”

“then…” you trail off, going quiet for a moment. wonwoo watches you, and you raise yourself up, adjusting yourself to almost straddle his lap. “can you…”

“hm?”

“can you take care of me?” you whisper, tugging the hem of his shirt. you swallow the embarrassment down, reminding yourself that it’s okay. “please?”

it seems like a desperation from you, but wonwoo knows you best. you know that he’ll always and will take care of you with utmost tenderness and gentle love. but sometimes, just barely, or just too often, you question yourself how (and why) you deserve him. you already thought the shared kiss under the stars a few years ago was something he’d forget easily. but the nerd he is, he’ll plant constellations upon constellations of kisses across your body, (as if you’re the universe herself), and ask you to guess which constellation it is. on your anniversary, he’ll always kiss the libra constellation on you because that’s the one you both saw under that fated starry night. (although, he loves kissing the pisces constellation on your body. a lot).

wonwoo gazes upon you, eyes brimming with gentleness, and he carefully sits up, motioning you to move closer to him. his hands rest on your hips, his right thumb stroking your hip. your arms reach out to him, as they wrap slowly around his neck.

“how would like me to take care of you?” he whispers so low, leaning in close, his lips brushing against yours, his right hand going up to play with your sweatshirt, sending a chill down your spine.

“however you want.”

wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, holding the back of your neck, while his left hand slips under your shorts, lightly caressing the back of your thigh. his tongue teases the roof of your mouth, causing you to let out a small whine, as his left hand takes a hold of your ass, occasionally squishing it.

“do you want me to continue?” wonwoo breathlessly says in between wet kisses. while he fiddles with the hem of your sweatshirt, you nod in response. “words, baby.”

“yes, please.”

“what do you want?”

you and wonwoo are no stranger to sex, but compared to your friends, you and him are considerably on the more… calmer side of things. and thats okay, it’s normal! everyone is different. tonight, however, feels different. even with his constant reassurance, little kisses of i’m here for you, and delicate whispers, you want wonwoo to…

“if you could help me not overthink, that’ll be great,” you feel yourself flush red, looking down at the end of his shirt, fiddling with it. “if you, uh, know what i mean.”

“oh.” wonwoo sighs when your fingers slip under his shirt and ghost over his chest. he’s figured what you meant. “are you sure?”

“as long as you fuck me, make me feel good,” you mumble, feeling yourself grind against him, kissing him wetly. “i could care less how you do it.”

wonwoo hisses at the pressure, and stares at you, a glint of lust and admiration starting to shine through, all while playing with the band of your shorts. he brings up a hand near your face, and pulls you in for another kiss, tongue toying with yours, and when you whine, he sucks the tip of your tongue.

“remember our safe word, baby?”

“kohyangi,” you breathe out, thinking about the cute cat cafe you both went to last year, while wonwoo kisses red blooms on your neck.

“how far do you want me to…”

“how we usually are, but i wanna see you try,” you stop wonwoo from kissing your neck, and you bring him to your face, letting him kiss you more. “you can be a little rougher tonight.”

“fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me.” he gently flips you over, carefully laying you down on the bed, lips never leaving yours until he briefly parts to remove his glasses. putting them on the nightstand clumsily, he comes back for your lips, and you melt against him. through his relentless teasing and his tender touches against you make your head spin. he kisses a little harder, a little more desperate, hands starting to roam around your frame, arms caging you– an underlying message that he isn’t going anywhere, and that he belongs to you, you are his, and that you are deserving of everything. a curious hand slips under your shirt, feeling your bare chest. his other hand toys with the band of your shorts, mumbling if it’s okay to take them off, and he swiftly removes them when you give him a ‘yes’.

“oh, this is pretty,” wonwoo compliments your underwear. it’s a baby blue thong. he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. “they new?”

“um, uh, yes? they were on sale… good deal, too…” you suddenly feel yourself shrink, turning red. you stare at his toned muscles, and you see a satisfied smirk on wonwoo’s face, eyes turning lustful. he pushes the sweatshirt high enough for your chest to be exposed to the air, never breaking eye contact until he swoops down, and starts planting kisses, tongue teasing your nipple, and occasionally biting at some places. “i bought a bunch since… kinda wanted to try wearing these… for you.”

you see wonwoo’s ears turn pink, and feel yourself crawling into a hole.

“aw, cute, my princess wants to treat me.” your brain screams. wonwoo kisses over the healed ink near your hip.“they look great on you, makes your tattoo here even sexier.”

“are.. are you doing the andromeda constellation?” you breathe out, trying to divert his (horny) attention somewhere else. “or is it something else?”

“mmhmm, correct, that’s my good girl,” wonwoo teases and you feel yourself choke on your own spit. he starts toying with the band of your underwear, and bites a mark on the hip bone. you didn’t even realize he’s already settled in between your legs until you feel him breathe. he tongues over the bite mark, soothing it. damn, ain’t this one nice way to go out. “you’re learning so well.”

“shit,” you shyly say between your teeth.

“keep the sweatshirt on, i wanna fuck you in it.”

“good, that was the intention.” you try to counter wonwoo, and you feel yourself twitch when wonwoo presses his thumb over your clothed clit. “does it make you possessive?”

“baby, you have no idea.” he responds, hooking a finger in the band of your thong.“may i?”

you nod at him, and he slowly peels off your underwear. as you slightly raise your hips so he can easily pull them off, he’s awkward with it, making you remove it instead. wonwoo clicks his tongue in slight annoyance. all you do is just smile at him, slipping them off with ease. you sit up (just a bit) to toss them somewhere on the bed or floor, and you don’t realize wonwoo is incredibly close to your pussy until you adjust your positioning. your breath hitches when he breathes.

“hm?” he starts to tease, kissing around the area and the lower stomach, but doesn’t do anything. “you’re pretty down here.”

“babe, please,” you try to sound exasperated but he plants the softest kiss on your clit and you almost collapse your arms. “just nervous, that’s all, even though we’ve done this a lot…”

“it’s okay, baby, i don’t blame you, i get nervous too,”wonwoo murmurs, and he can’t help it but he finds himself licking his lips. “may i eat you out?”

“yes, please.”

he first lightly swipes his tongue from the entrance to the clit, and he does it again, and again, and again, as you let out a soft noise the more he does it. he kisses your clit, and licks it, tongue flicking it a few times, doing a circular motion, and you sigh out a moan, hand resting on the crown of his head. he briefly pauses to use his thumbs to spread you out a little more, and opens his mouth, letting drool drip down on your pussy, watching it drip down, and he goes back in with his tongue. he increases the pressure, and you whine, almost hitting your head against the headboard. he keeps up the pace, moaning against your folds whenever you do, tongue slipping inside you occasionally. he starts to get even more sloppy, messy– making wet noises the more he eats you out.

“my princess is being so so good, so wet,” he mumbles lowly against your folds, hearing how wet he made you, briefly pulling away to kiss your inner thighs. you whine how his finger is teasing your hole, and his lips come back to suck on your clit again. “so needy, all for me.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine breathlessly, feeling wonwoo’s hand grip your thigh a little harder. he looks up, eyes never breaking away from yours, while his tongue slowly licks up from the entrance to your clit. he closes his eyes, relishing in the taste of you. you are sure your thigh is going to bruise, but his head is in between your legs, so it’ll be worth the bruising. “wonwoo, fuck, oh my god,”

“mm, fuck, so sweet,” he mumbles against your pussy. a finger slips inside you, slowly moving back and forth. the bed slightly shakes, and you see that he’s lightly grinding against the sheets, in desperation for some relief. you sigh at the sight, trying to stifle a moan as he puts more pressure with his tongue. “baby, go ahead, be louder.”

“its, fuck, embarrassing! holy shit,” you respond back a little louder, body arching when wonwoo adds another finger and grazes that sweet spot inside. you feel wonwoo pin down your hips with his other hand. “so, fuck, so, so good.”

“good,” wonwoo coos. “how bad do you wanna come?”

“so bad, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” your brain feels dizzy. “please wonwoo, please.”

wonwoo hums, continuing to suck your clit with wet noises and fingering you good. you find yourself mumbling incoherent sentences, and you find yourself feeling a wave of relief and pleasure overtake your body, trying to breathe. you clench around his fingers, hearing wonwoo coax you through your orgasm, leaving little kisses on you of you’re doing so well for me, and my baby, baby, all mine.

“can i spit in your mouth?” wonwoo removes his mouth from you, but his fingers have slowed their movement.

“yes.” you whine at the brief loss.

“open up.” he demands softly, a wet thumb pressing against your bottom lip. you oblige, and he leans in, letting drool drip down from his mouth into yours, his fingers busy with your hole, and uses his tongue to push it in your mouth. you shut your eyes, moaning while wonwoo’s tongue meets with yours.“good girl. was that okay?”

“y-yes,” you say in between wet kisses. another finger slips inside you, making it three, while you both make out, tasting yourself against his tongue. “it was good.”

“do you want me to do it again tonight?” wonwoo slightly rolls on his side, all while fingering you and peppering your neck with more kisses.

“it was really hot but,” you moan, trying to reach the band of his sweatpants. you can see how hard he is, and how much relief he desperately needs. “i don’t know if i wanna do it again. not again tonight, if that’s okay.”

“it’s always okay, baby, thank you,” wonwoo smiles against your neck, and you really wonder how you feel horny and soft all at once. he feels your fingers tease the band of his sweatpants, almost tracing the dent against it.“oh, baby, no need to worry about me.”

“but i want to make you feel good, too,” you say softly, breaths staggering while he fingers you long and slow. “don’t want—fuck— to be the only one.”

“well,” wonwoo gazes at you, eyes half-lidded with a slight fucked out look on his face. “does my girl want to make me feel good? words, baby, i need to hear them.”

“i want to make you feel good, please.”

“how badly?”

“s-so bad,” you whine when wonwoo removes his fingers from you. rolling on top of him, you press your body against his, your fingers holding the band of his sweats. “i want to suck you off.”

“wanna show me how with my fingers?” he brings up his fingers covered in your wetness close to your lips. “how will my baby suck me off?”

“only if you let me jerk you off, too.”

“i’d love that, fuuck,” wonwoo groans when you pull down his sweats and your hand wraps over his hard dick. he’s so fucking hard. your thumb teases the tip, playing with the precum and letting your hand coat itself in it. wonwoo’s fingers slowly go in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around them. “baby, fuck, you’re such a slut.”

“y-you’re the bigger slut,” you shyly whisper against his fingers. you help wonwoo get out from his sweatpants, leaving him naked, and you start grinding your cunt against his bare thigh. he hisses, feeling how wet you are down there, and his free hand grabs a hold of your hip. “you made me like this.”

“you’re so wet, baby,” wonwoo sighs, pulling you in for a kiss, sighing when you jerk him off slowly. as you slightly pick up the pace, thumbing the slit, wonwoo’s hand reaches from behind to play with your hole. you quickly pull away to let a trail of spit go down his cock for some lubrication, and wonwoo throws his head back, groaning, when you jerk him off faster. “fuck, that’s my girl, go ahead, suck me off.”

“and you’re calling me the slut,” you mumble. you hear wonwoo laugh against your lips, until you feel his hand lightly slap your ass. you sigh at the pain, wonwoo rubbing the reddenning spot. “wow, kinky, are we?”

“you’re cute.”

“you like it.”

“you’re so– oh, fuck,” wonwoo feels his breathing stagger when you slide down, your tongue teasing the tip. you look up, trying hard to maintain eye contact, all while holding his thick cock with your hand (you forget how thick he is, you can barely wrap your hand around it completely) and giving it kittenish licks, before wrapping your lip around the tip. you make a few wet sucking noises, before spitting down on his cock for more lubrication. “fuck, baby, can you take all of me?”

“i haven’t even done anything yet,” you continue to trail your tongue along the veins and stroke him at the girth, and he moans— you feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting to hear more of it. “wanna tell me what should i do?”

“d-do as you please.” he groans out your name, cursing under his breath, and strokes your head as you continue to suck him off. not only does he love it when he ensures you’re vocal about what you want, he loves it when you ask him what he wants. being communicative is something he prioritizes so much (in general, obviously). and during times like these, communication is so so sexy.

you look at him, eyes signaling am i doing good for you?, and wonwoo bites his lip, enthralled by the sight. he really, really, can’t wait to ravish you.

“oh, holy fuck,” his thoughts get slightly interrupted when he feels his cock almost hit the back of your throat. feelings mixed with surprise and arousal that overwhelm him, he bites his lip to avoid a moan slipping out, wrapping his own hand around the base and presses it, edging himself. “oh, fuck, baby, you don’t have to take everything in.”

“b-but,” you remove your mouth from him, a slick pop sound coming out, as a trail of spit and come stick on your mouth. you still use your hands to jerk him off, looking at him with glossed eyes. “i wanna make you feel good.”

“you already are, baby,” wonwoo hitches his breath when you put your mouth back on his cock, a finger trailing your jaw. “but i’m the one who was suppose to fuck you til you can’t think, right? do you still want that, sweetheart?”

“uh-huh,” you mumble. “i-i do.”

“come here, then,” wonwoo encourages you to come up, licking your mouth. he runs a tongue on the roof of your mouth, as you moan while his hand plays with your hole again. “i taste good, don’t i?”

“mmhmm,” you reply against his lips, and wonwoo easily slips two fingers inside you again. he sucks on your bottom lip, fingering you faster, and you find yourself instinctively riding his fingers, moans getting more desperate as his other hand takes a hold of your hip and helps you ride his fingers. “fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m gonna cum again, oh my god, your fingers are so good, woo.”

“that’s it, baby,” wonwoo says, adding in a third finger. you feel his thumb press again your clit. “come for me again, sweetheart.”

you ride out your second orgasm of the night. although it’s not as intense as the first, it feels more of like a softer wave holding you close. wonwoo kisses your neck and collarbones, whispering you praises and love notes as he helps you finish.

“please fuck me already,” you whine into the kiss, and wonwoo starts playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. “wonwoo, please, i want you…”

“patience, baby,” wonwoo whisper in your ear, and you feel his hand go up and down your back. “i’ll take care of you as long as you like me to. can you go on your hands and knees for me, baby?”

“can we kiss first?”

“of course, baby.”

you’ll never get sick of kissing wonwoo, ever. you find how you melt into each other’s warmth, comfort, and love— and how he feels like home, the hugs on rainy days, the shared smiles— you adore how his kisses are reminders of i’m always here and love letters, how much he loves you- all of you—

wonwoo shifts when you move onto the position, him moving his hand down your back. he asks if its okay if he can lift up your hips a little higher, and says good girl when you follow his instruction.

“can i…?” wonwoo asks, raising your hips up, so your ass is sticking up in the air. “can i fuck you holding one of your arms behind your back?”

“holy fuck,” you whisper, looking at him, a part of your face squished by the pillow. you and wonwoo aren’t that experimental, but this… is something. “if that will help you fuck me so hard til i can’t think, then okay.”

wonwoo slows his movements, and stares at you.

oh.

oh, fuck, that’s hot.

“well, if you say so,” he leans over, tilts your head to give you a kiss, before opening the drawer to grab a condom. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“at least fuck me first.” you joke, and wonwoo chuckles at that, pushing up your sweatshirt to expose your back. he kisses down your spine, and you hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. wonwoo adjusts your body, and you almost feel like a cramp coming on, but it’s okay—

“ready, baby?” wonwoo asks lowly. you nod against the pillow. “words, sweetheart. may i have your hand?”

“mm, yeah, i’m ready, are you?” you put your hand around your back, and you feel wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“yeah, i’m putting it in,” wonwoo says, and you feel the tip prod against your entrance, and you bite back a moan before he slowly inserts himself in. you squeeze your eyes shut, gasping against the pillow, remembering to take deep breaths. you need a moment to adjust, but the stretch alone feels wonderful. “you okay?”

“y-yes,” you exhale. “fuck, i feel all of you, so, so much.”

“fuck, you’re so tight.” wonwoo groans, slowly bottoming out. “need a moment?”

“yeah.” you let yourself adjust to his cock, as wonwoo rubs your back (his way of helping you relax). a minute passes, and you start to feel good, inadvertently moving your hips back to his. wonwoo moans, and it encourages you to move faster against him. “f-fuck, oh my god, please fuck me, you’re so big—”

wonwoo finds himself moving his hips fast, a hand gripping your hip, the other pinning your wrist behind your back, as you gasp on how loud, wet, and hard he’s going. as hard and fast-paced his thrusts are, it remains concise and controlled. you hear him groan the more he thrusts into you, and you briefly look back at him, seeing him fling his head back in pleasure. god, it feels so good, the sounds of skin slapping grow louder, breathing out of sync, you feel so full, so fucking full, your head is starting to get dizzy—

your senses come back when wonwoo slows his pace, and you whine, tightening around him as a means to get him to move.

“nuh-uh, don’t come just yet,” wonwoo tuts, shallowly thrusting in you. “i’m not done with you.”

“w-what, fuck! oh my god, please go harder,” you tell him, feeling drool come out from your mouth, and wonwoo lets go of your hand, gently placing it above your head.

“so, so, impatient,” wonwoo slaps your ass, watching you fuck yourself on him. he continues to let you fuck yourself on him, his frame swooping down so he can whisper. “so needy for my cock, hm? didn’t know my baby is such a needy, little slut. look at you fucking yourself on me. i haven’t even fucked you stupid yet, and look at you being so needy for me. my baby is such a cute little whore.”

“wonwoo, please move,” you breathe, looking at him with glossy eyes. wonwoo continues to stare at you with lust and endearment, all while shallowly fucking into you. “i want you so much, ahhhh fuck, please, please.”

“hm? what was that?” wonwoo coos, and you whine even more. you feel like crying. wonwoo rubs his hands down your side. “oh, baby, it’s okay, i’ll give you want you want. wanna tell me what you want?”

“y-you, please.”

“just me?”

“want you to fuck me til i can’t think.”

“that’s it?”

“wanna be y-your cute little whore for you.”

and that’s all it takes for wonwoo to remove himself out from you. you wince at the loss of him, as you feel tears in your eyes, but he steadily grabs you, flipping you on your back. he pumps himself, spitting on his fingers and they go down to your pussy, playing with your clit with his thumb and wraps your legs around his waist.

“keep your legs wrapped for me, okay?” he says, using his long fingers to play with you. “can you do that for me?”

“yes,” you nod, and wonwoo peppers soft kisses around your neck and face. “wonwoo?”

“mm, baby?”

“can you spit in my mouth again?”

“oh, fuck, yes,” it catches wonwoo off guard and you find it cute how flustered he got. “i can, yeah.”

“good,” you nudge his back with your leg, telling him to start moving.

“ready?”

“mmhm- ah, fuck!” you nod, but wonwoo slips inside easily, holding onto your hips hard, fucking you at a hard, controlled pace. “oh my god, fuuuck, fuck!”

wonwoo smiles, watching your expressions change accordingly. he takes in all of your noises, expressions, all of you, how you ask to go faster, how you’re trying to fuck back too, how you’re willing to make it good for both of you. wonwoo takes a hold of your hand, putting it above your head. he gets caught off guard when you put your other hand up, and wraps his hand around your wrists, pinning them against the sheets.

“fuck, baby, you’re so tight, your pretty pussy loves taking me in, hm?” wonwoo whispers, and his free hand creeps up on your neck, but doesn’t add pressure on it. “open up.”

you oblige, and you feel him twitch. you tighten in instinct, as he lets spit drip down from his mouth to yours, and sticks his tongue in your mouth to push it in again. you moan at that, eyes going shut, all while wonwoo fucks harder and harder and harder. you feel nothing running in your brain, it feels numbing, feels exhilarating, you just feel yourself get lost into the pleasure and the praise wonwoo kisses on your skin. you numbingly hear him say words and words of i love you, can’t believe you are all mine, fuck you’re too good for me, come for me, your senses get blurred out, like your feeling everything all at once, and you don’t know when but you feel yourself unravel, coming undone as wonwoo finishes too, hips stuttering.

“baby…” wonwoo sighs against your lips, hands cautiously rubbing your sides, while putting his body weight against yours. “come back to me.”

“mmrgh?” you make a weird noise, feeling warm and a little light-headed. you hear wonwoo telling you to take deep breaths, and you use your hands to hold onto his shoulders. kisses and kisses and kisses of you did so well scatter across your skin like a cluster of stars, as wonwoo strokes your head with a comforting touch. “wonwoo?”

“m’ here baby, i’m right here,” he says, carefully slipping out from inside you after he softens. “i’m here, are you here?”

“yeah, sorry,” you finally collect yourself together, staring at the ceiling. wonwoo shifts on the bed, rolling over next to you to discard the condom, and plops next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist. you look over at him, lost in his bright eyes, and fucked out glow. “you did it.”

“wha?”

“you fucked me stupid, i don’t remember thinking at all.” you laugh. wonwoo’s face turns more pink, and he grumbles into your neck, kissing a spot or two.

“was that all okay?” he asks, stroking your head with one hand, playing with your hands with the other. “we did a little experimenting tonight.”

“it was good, yes, thank you,” you tell him, stroking his cheek fondly. “kinda wanna do more of it, you know.”

“oh.”

“oh my god, don’t act like a shy boy when you fucked me with your big dick.”

“i’m…” wonwoo get even more shy, and you laugh, kissing his nose and his cheeks. “just wasn’t expecting that, that’s all.”

“is it a lot for you?”

“no, i’m glad you trust me, and that i’m able to trust you.” wonwoo says, rubbing your stomach. “we should clean up.”

“eh, i kinda wanna lay here.” you say, sort of sprawling out on the bed. you stretch your arm a little weird so it ends up across wonwoo’s body. “too tired.”

“baby, you work in healthcare. didn’t they teach you to pee after sex?”

“i work in an eye clinic!”

“well yeah! same idea! it’s still healthcare! i’m getting you to clean up.” wonwoo says, slipping out of bed and grab his sweatpants. he slips it on, and goes over to your side, but you start rolling away, not wanting to get out of bed. “baby, don’t do that.”

“i want to cuddle first,” you say, not bothering to fight back when wonwoo grabs your body to carry you to the bathroom. “i feel like jelly.”

“good, that’s what i intended,” wonwoo kisses your face when you wrap your arms around his neck. “we can cuddle after. what do you want for breakfast?”

“eggs. toast, if we have bread. do we have bread?” wonwoo shrugs . “uh, coffee? oh! and maybe fried rice.”

“you work tomorrow?” he asks. you shake your head. “good, we’ll sleep in, eat breakfast, you wanna go play stardew valley together?”

you grin, giving him a kiss.

god, you love him so fucking much.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen smut #svthub #svt x reader #zu writes #svt #seventeen fic #GOD IM BACKSJDJDJ

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wesawbears · 1 month

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Sunshine Court broke something in my brain, so here's some protective Jean because my boy is not gonna tolerate whatever is going on with Jeremy's family.

Tagging @bienmoreau @faintlyglow and @betterbekind

Jeremy's hands shake as he's getting ready for dinner with his family.

Jean doesn't mean to notice, perched as he is on the bed, watching the other man straightening his shirt in front of the dresser. Jeremy's very good at hiding it, with his easy smiles and easier deflections. By now, he knows it's an open secret that Jeremy avoids his family as best he can, and that Cat and Laila allow him his choice.

But Jean has spent his whole life reading into the slant of someone's posture to survive, and he knows the tremor in Jeremy's hands as if it was his own.

“You're afraid,” he says, the words arriving unbidden. But it's such a shock to see him like this– the man who stood in front of Jean at the darkest points of his life and refused to look away, cowed by the people who were supposed to love him.

This was Jean's friend, his partner, and he was feeling unsafe.

Jeremy jumps at the sound, either lost in his own thoughts or used to the quietness of Jean for the last few minutes. “What?”

Jean weighs what he wants to say. He knows he's had his fair share of truths he's asked to keep to himself, and that Jeremy has never pushed when it mattered. But he also thinks about “for now”, and how hard truths can only be avoided for so long. “Is it your parents?”

Jeremy's eyes widen, a nervous fidget in the set of his hands. If he wants to lie, Jean's already decided to allow it. But Jeremy finally says a quiet, “Yes and no.”

Jean nods. “Do they- are you safe?” He doesn't think he's seen bruises, and he remembers the horror in Jeremy's voice as he told Jean that his parents should have protected him. But maybe he was projecting?

Jeremy's shoulders deflate. “Jean, no. It's nothing like that. I promise, they've never laid a hand on me.” He smiles, a crooked thing that has Jean following the curve of his lips.

Still, Jean knows the way he's curled into himself, the way he's glancing at his phone as though it's about to jump at him. “But it's something.”

“It's just dinner. I can handle it. I know how to play the game and get out of there.” It's a perfectly neutral answer, but it's also more than he's said in months about what waits for him when he disappears to his family's home. Despite his living there most of the year, Jean refuses to call it Jeremy's home. His home is here, cleaning up with Laila and arguing with Cat, and where Jean can see him when his nightmares rattle him awake to count the rise and fall of Jeremy's breath from the next bed over.

“Do you want company?” It's a strange request, and Jean knows it as he says it. Jean still hates being around people, and speaking to a bunch of strangers even Jeremy is nervous around makes his stomach swim. But this is his partner, and if he needs him, he can be there for him. It is only fair.

Jeremy's face becomes unbearably gentle and Jean isn't ready to read into the fondness he sees there. “I will be okay. Like I said, I know how to do this.”

One part of Jean knows he should leave it at that. But the other part has cataloged the heaviness in Jeremy's countenance when he returns home– the rehearsed smile, the way he goes to bed early. The part that wins says, “I will walk home with you. When dinner is over.”

“You don't have to do that-”

“I want to,” he says, and he finds that he means it. The idea of Jeremy walking home by himself after spending an hour alone in a room of people is too much to bear. “Text me the address and I will be there.” He wanted to visit the grocery store anyway– he could do that while he waited. Cat would be happy to see the spice cabinet restocked.

“Alright,” Jeremy says, swallowing whatever protest sat on his lips. “Yeah, I'll- I'll text you.”

Jean nods, letting the matter drop while Jeremy finishes getting ready in amicable silence. When he leaves, it's with a nod that Jean recognizes, of someone who is resigning themselves to the inevitable.

He doesn't know how to keep him from hurting, but he is at least well versed in the aftermath.

–

Jean arrives at the intended address at the appointed time, not wanting to be there too early and seem suspicious. Jeremy is not forthcoming about his familial circumstances, but he knows there is money involved, and in Jean's experience, outsiders were not tolerated.

True to his word, Jeremy emerges after only a minute or two and his face lights up in a way that makes Jean's stomach twist when he spots him. He hurries toward Jean, and immediately begins walking once they reach each other.

It's easy to keep pace with him, but as Jeremy is about to breach the silence, a voice behind them brings him up short.

“I thought you knew better than to bring people like that to the house?”

Jean bristles at the implication, but he's more concerned with the way Jeremy stills at his side. When Jeremy doesn't reply, Jean tries to ignore it as well and continue forward, but the voice continues.

“Flaunting it in front of us like you don't even care what you did to the family? You deserve whatever happens, you-”

“You will not speak to him that way.”

Jeremy draws back in surprise, but Jean keeps his expression cool as he turns to face Jeremy's brother.

“What did you say to me?”

Jean glances at Jeremy, sure he's crossing a line but unable to stop himself. “I said, you will not speak to him like that.”

A snort. “He's my brother. I can say whatever I like. Besides, how exactly are you going to stop me?”

“Jean,” Jeremy's voice is small beside him and Jean does not rise to the bait.

He fixes the unfamiliar man with a cool glance. “Nothing. I know a great deal of small men exactly like you, and they always seem to get what they deserve in the end. I do not need to do anything to stop you. But no one has to listen to you either.”

With one last flat look, he walks, Jeremy matching his purposeful strides. As the silence grew longer between them, Jean wonders if he read this wrong, if Jeremy had not wanted him to say anything. Had he crossed a line? Had he made Jeremy feel unsafe?

“Thank you.”

Jean turns to look at him in surprise. “I did not mean to force you to face them before you were ready-”

“I'm not ready,” Jeremy admits. “And yeah, things will probably be pretty tense next time.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But- it means something to me that you were there. I– it made it easier, knowing you were there.”

Jean nods slowly, not trusting himself to be able to say anything. He had said it not because of anything owed between them, but because he could not bear to see Jeremy's light dimmed by those who were supposed to cherish him.

At last, he finds his voice to say, “I will not let you leave me behind.”

The smile Jeremy sends is a little tired, but it's also slow and soft and the first real one he's seen all night, so Jean counts it as a win.

Rainbows. Open roads. Friends. Jeremy's smile.

#tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #jerejean #jeremy knox #jean moreau

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kyleoreillylover · 6 months

Note

HI i just want you to know i love you for being literally the only person on here who has written for tiffany <3

Thank you for your kind words!! Just for that, here's a Tiffany imagine just for you that's been sitting in my drafts for a while :)

Wake Up Call 🩷

Summary: You and Tiffany have to get to the arena early, and she gives you a wake up call you'll never forget.

Warnings: Smut!!! Pure filth!

Tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav

“Baby, it’s time to wake up.”

Feather light kisses grazed over your soft brown skin, making your brain slowly pull away from the depths of sleep. More light kisses gently coaxed you into consciousness. Despite the temptation to meet Tiffany's sparkling blue gaze, you kept your eyes shut, allowing yourself to revel in the sensation of her soft lips against your skin, hoping she would just let you sleep peacefully.

You were surprised when for a few moments, it seemed like Tiffany would actually let you sleep in, her kisses becoming less insistent. But just as you began to drift back into slumber, you felt her circle her tongue on your neck, making you groan and instinctively lean into her touch. You could practically feel her smirk against your collarbone as the teasing continued.

"Are you awake yet, baby? We have to be at the arena early today." She murmured softly, her breath hot against your ear and your cheeks flushing at the sound of her voice.

"Noo…" You tried to lie, not opening your eyes to get her to continue her teasing.

"Oh really?" She sucked on your sweet spot before lightly grazing her teeth with her tongue, causing you to gasp in pleasure.

"That sucks. I was gonna try give you a little reward today..." She paused, giving you the opportunity to imagine what exactly she wanted to do to your body today. Her fingers brushed across your inner thighs where they were wrapped tightly around her middle, eliciting an involuntary shiver down your spine. Then the pressure from her hand changed to your hip bone. "But I guess I'm gonna have to punish you some other way." The words made your heart jump with excitement. Her words made you crave more...

"Tiffany," you whined, finally opening your eyes and meeting her sapphire blue ones that had a cocky glint in them "Oh, so you're awake now?" She teased, her fingers trailing sensually along the inside of your thigh as her fingers played with your panties.

"Yes-" You cut yourself off with a choked out moan when she teased your clit through your pajama pants and underwear, drawing a small whimper from you.

"I think I need to make you more awake," she teased. Her fingers dipped lower, moving further apart to play with the sensitive part of your folds and rubbing circles in the center of your wetness until you couldn't stand anymore. You gasped and arched into her touch.

"Fuck." You managed to choke out between moans as her finger teased you again, circling your clit while she rubbed circles in your entrance, still clothed. You squirmed, unable to hold back any longer as your hips bucked upward against the bed frame in desperate attempts to relieve the building tension building inside you.

"This mornings about you," Tiffany whispered hoarsely as she pulled her finger away, ignoring yoru groan of frustration "And don't move unless I tell you to." She instructed, then quickly removed both of your panties and placed them on top of her discarded clothes. Before you could protest, she pushed herself onto her elbows and looked down at you with that intense look you always loved.

You bit your lip to stop from moaning when she leaned down and licked one nipple before sucking hard until it hardened, then moving her mouth up and down and around your breast before returning to suck on the other breast.

"No, let me take care of you." You protested, pushing yourself toward her with a groan of protest.

She gave you a look, but didn't seem upset. “Remember what we talked about last night?" She asked, her expression turning serious as she straddled you, pushing you down farther than normal so that she was hovering over your face.

"Yes, but-" You tried to protest, only to be cut off by her kiss this time as she rolled her hips forward and began grinding down on you. Your mind instantly went blank as you tried to focus on anything else, but your desire for her won out as you moaned loudly into her mouth. Tiffany smiled victoriously at your moan.

"You need to take care of yourself. You're my girl, and you've been doing better lately, but you need to get used to letting me spoil you." Her thumb found its way between your legs, going to your swollen clit and rubbing gently back and forth, until all thoughts had left your brain. Only one thing mattered - Tiffany... Tiffany.... Tiffany. The thought came back to you almost immediately when she flicked her thumb against your clit with a firm pressure before sliding two fingers deep inside you.

"Fuuuuck!" You cried out as you grinded against her, heat rushing all throughout your body as her fingers worked you slowly. You could already feel yourself getting close to climax and desperately needed release, but if she wanted to go slow she wouldn't find that happening anytime soon."Fuckk! Fuckkk!" You yelled again, thrusting up against her and pushing her fingers deeper inside you. "Please... go faster."

Tiffany's lips went to your neck, and you could feel her wicked smirk on your skin as she sucked your sweet spot once again, sucking hickeys into your dark skin.

"Hmm. I don't know, Baby. You didnt listen to me this morning. Maybe I should just make you wait until you've learned your lesson." Her fingers went even slower, circling your clit slowly, so slow you could barely handle it. You needed her right now, needed her to make you come undone only in a way she knew how.

"Please, please, please. I'll be good. I'll let you do whatever you want. I'll let you spoil me. Please. Fuck me!" You begged desperately, gripping onto her forearms and rocking your hips up against her in search of more friction.

Your words seemed to break through to her, as her fingers suddenly became quicker and quicker as if she'd become addicted to the feeling of her own fingers inside of you. "Alright, fine. But just remember what I said, or else this will be the last day you get to be spoiled.

"Mmm, okay," You hummed as she pushed her thick fingers into you. Your whole body jerked forward involuntarily as she moved faster, and your head fell back onto the pillow and your eyes closed, the heat pooling inside you growing with each movement of her fingers and every passing second.

"I'm so close, babe. So fucking close." Tiffany's eyes darkened at your words, the smile on her face growing bigger and wider with each breath. "As you should be." She commented cockily before driving her fingers even harder into you, making you scream in delight.

Tiffany pulled back slightly and watched your face for signs of impending pleasure. When you moaned and arched upward, she continued pumping her fingers into you, hitting that spot in your core that you knew she knew would make you go crazy, until you were shaking with the force of your orgasm. "Let go for me, baby. You deserve this."

You collapsed against the bed as Tiffany continued to pump her fingers, enjoying the feeling that coursed through your veins as she pumped into you relentlessly, leaving you weak and panting as she withdrew her fingers and kissed you, sucking her juices from your neck.

"You are a godsend." You breathed out once you regained control of your senses. Tiffany shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, you know what they say, it's my job." Her smug grin was enough to make you laugh, her laugh turning into a yelp when you flipped her onto her back with a grunt and climbed on top of her, positioning yourself between her thighs.

"Nu-uh! What did I tell you?" In one swift motion, she flipped your positions, laying you underneath her, your body pressed flush against her own.

"I am spoiling you, whether you like it or not. But since you wanna be difficult, I guess I shall have to teach you a new lesson.." She purred, looking at you mischievously before getting up, grabbing something from the drawer and coming back to sit beside you.

"Sit up and close your eyes" You did what you were told, sitting up and shutting your eyes. She slipped underneath you, wrapping her arms around you and placing kisses on your exposed stomach and neck, causing goosebumps to form all over your body.

As your breathing increased, so did her pace. Soon she was panting heavily, her warm breath against the nape of your neck sending chills down your spine and your breathing speeding up. You were so caught up in the feel of her and the spell she put you under you didnt even feel your hands being pulled on top of the headboard until you heard a click.

"Tiffany!" You whined, your eyes flying open to see that she'd snapped the handcuffs on. You struggled against them, but it was no use. She smirked at you, hands caressing your thighs slowly as she laid beneath you, her face dangerously close to your core.

"I told you I am gonna teach you how to accept my help." She said in a low voice as she slid her hand down your leg and stroked your inner thigh, watching as the goosebumps broke out on your brown skin from the feeling. You bit your lip as her hand reached higher.

"By sitting on your face?" You quipped nervously, trying to push away from her to no avail, trying to ignore the wet heat spreading between your legs. Tiffany chuckled.

"Exactly. I get to watch you squirm. And you get to finally relax." She propositioned calmly, as if she wasn't driving you crazy this very moment and wasn't pressing closer to your core. Her tongue glided over her bottom lip, and you felt your chest tighten.

"Just enjoy it, sweetie." She mumbled before leaning down and giving you another wet kiss. Then slowly, deliberately she tried to lower your hips down onto her face, your glistening core teasing her with each dip down. She was so close to tasting you. So close.

The feel of her hot breath fanning your sensitive nerves was too much for you to resist, but you tried to pull yourself away from her, but she just held you tighter.

"Come on. Let me take care of you" She whispered, bringing you closer. Your breaths grew shallow, and you tried to hang on until she finally got annoyed and circled her tongue against your clit. Any fight you had left melted away as you moaned loudly, your entire body tensing as you dropped down onto her face, unable to hold back any longer.

Her tongue licked up your slit, running along your entrance before flicking it up and down at a steady pace to savor every inch of you, to savor the taste of you.

"Tiffany!" You moaned loudly. She didn't reply, just gripped your hips to make you grind against her face, sucking on your folds greedily and loving every single second of it.

She slurped at your folds , licking up and down your slit while her other hand went down to your core, her thumb playing with your clit, massaging and rubbing circles on you as her mouth devoured you.

"You taste so fucking good."Tiffany groaned, her words vibrating into your pussy as your hands pulled onto the handcuffs, trying to find something to hold on to. Your moans egged her on as she continued to lap at you until finally her mouth was on your clit and she was swirling her tongue around it, sucking hard and fast, causing you to arch your back and moan loudly, her hands still on your hips keeping you from bucking off of her.

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably as you tried to hold yourself together, but she felt you holding back and sucked harshly on your clit, almost ripping it apart, which caused you to whimper and grab onto the sheets below you. The sudden pain made her pull away for a short time so you could gasp for air before going back to work on your clit, the two of you both moaning loud enough to wake up your neighbors.

But Tiffany didnt care, as far as she was aware, neither of you had a home. Neither of you cared about what anyone thought. Or maybe you didn't. Hell, you were hardly thinking straight yourself at the moment, your brain completely gone. All you could think of was that her mouth, her touch, her body against yours, everything about this moment, you wanted more.

Tiffany's fingers fingered you in figure eight's, her tongue alternating between your pussy and your hole as she sucked you so hard you couldn't breathe. You could feel the familiar sparks shooting throughout your whole body and you were so close, so close, you needed her touch. Your eyes rolled back as your moans echoed through the room and your nails scratched against the headboard. You were so close.

"Tiffany!!" You moaned out as you felt yourself getting closer and closer .

"You're close, aren't you baby?" She murmured against your core, as she began to move faster, pumping faster, sucking harder. You gasped for air as the tension built within you, a high pitched keening sound escaping your lips as your grip tightened on the headboard.

"Let go for me." Her voice vibrated throughout your entire body as she wrapped her arms tightly around your waist andhoved two fingers deep inside you and pumped them, making you grind against her face. "Come on, baby. Just let go." She coaxed softly, as the pleasure built inside of you and you started to lose your balance on the bed, falling down onto her and pushing yourself further into her throat as her fingers danced on your clit and her teeth grazed your swollen bud, making you cry out again, and the feel of her tongue swirling around your nub was your undoing.

You came with a guttural scream that resonated throughout the bedroom and the only thing you can hear is Tiffany's raspy voice, chanting your name lovingly.

Once you finally stopped moving against Tiffany's face and fell limp on top of her, gasping and sweating, your brain finally caught up with you. You lifted yourself up carefully and sat on top of her as you heaved for air. "Holy fuck..." You muttered softly, letting out a breathless chuckle when Tiffany lifted herself up and looked at you, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.

"I told you I would take care of you, princess." She grinned proudly. "And I'm always right ." You snorted at her comment.

"Yeah yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night." You replied sarcastically before she slid away from you and sat up, taking the handcuffs off of you. "But seriously, I love you." She turned and cupped your cheeks gently, smiling brightly at you.

"And I love you too, princess" She replied before bending down to peck your cheek softly. "You know me taking care of you doesn't mean that you are weak, it means that I trust you. If I could give everything from the universe to anyone in this world, I'd give it to you." You blushed lightly at the sincerity in her voice. "I want to give you everything you need too." You praised her back, earning another smile before she leaned up to plant a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Now, we gotta get to the arena in a hour and a half, so how 'bout you hop in the shower with me and I'll give you another wake up call?" She winked playfully and hopped down off the bed and into your master bathroom.

You stared after her, your heart skipping a beat at the mere sight of her wearing nothing but your shirt. And nothing else. You swallowed hard and quickly followed her, determined to make her heed her words.

"You better keep your promises, Tiff." You yelled as you ran after her into the bathroom, not wanting to spend one minute less in the shower without her.

And she definitely kept her promise.

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howlsmovinglibrary · 2 months

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Thank you @nellasbookplanet! 😊😊😊😊

Last song/piece I listened to: It was Too Sweet by Hozier lmao :') this is not the current on-repeat ear worm song, but I'm trying to cultivate it as the next one

Last book I read: Last book I finished was The Prisoner's Throne by Holly Black, but the last book I read was A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske (we are now 60% in and waist deep in sex scenes lol)

Last film I watched: Encanto! I rewatched it over three days, like damn why did I do that to myself I was crying 9am before a train journey.

Last TV series: Last TV series I finished was Big Mood (with its Tim Downie jumpscare) but last TV show I watched was Fantasy High Junior Year

Last thing I googled: ...'Strahd and Tatyanna'. I feel like that's the response a ChatGPT version of me would give as well. How about I just go throw myself off a bridge huh?

Last thing I ate: A chocolate crispy cake with mini eggs for Easter lol.

Sweet, Savory or Spicy: Sweet :')

Amount of sleep: standard anxiety haver of 'attempt for 8 hrs, typically lie awake staring at the ceiling for 1.5hrs standard while the brain plays either the top 5 concerns in your life or the Distraction Movie on repeat' (6-7hrs last night lol)

Currently reading: Oh damn I didn't realise this was the question coming up. A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske and then after that either a birthday gift book or The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo depending on when my pre-order arrives. Also still on Sunshine by Robin McKinley but it's slowed down and I've lost interest, and I've just joined a Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell reading group!

tagging @violacae, @imscissorbladez, @bookcub, @eldritchcow and anyone else who fancies it, no pressure though!

#personal tag #tag games

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lavellenchanted · 3 months

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wip wednesday

I was tagged by the lovely @beachy--head!

Here are a few snippets from some of the very many wips I have languishing in my docs, which you are all very welcome to kick me about should you wish.

Dr Cho coughs gently, and Steve starts a little in surprise. He had forgotten for a moment where they are, and realises abruptly that he has, in fact, started leaning in towards Peggy without realising. He jerks back, face warm, but Dr Cho is smiling gently, looking between them with curious eyes. “Well,” she says, “I can certainly see why you had trouble resisting each other. But did the fact that you were cohabiting give you any hesitation about beginning a relationship?” “Uh - yeah,” Steve coughs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. This is where the line between truth and lie begins to blur, and he can’t quite bring himself to look her in the eye. “I mean, I knew I had feelings for her long before I acted on them. But I thought it might be a bad idea . . . what if it didn’t work and living together suddenly became much more awkward? What if being in each other’s space all the time is too much pressure on a new relationship? What if it screwed up a friendship that’s really important to me?” “And how did you deal with that? What was it that made you decide to act on your feelings despite your concerns?” “W- well . . .” Briefly Steve falters, because of course the truth is that he hasn’t dealt with them. Those concerns have kept his mouth shut for a year, even as his feelings for Peggy grew and became more intense with each passing day. But then Peggy cuts across him, saying wryly, “Dutch courage.”

“Can you honestly say I’m wrong?” Edwina takes a long sip of her lemonade - not particularly tasteful, but still appropriately sour - as she considers her answer. Last year she would have made some vague, conciliatory remark intended to smooth Eloise’s ruffled feathers and keep the peace, that revealed nothing of her true thoughts. Perhaps last year she would not have known what her true thoughts really were. Today she lowers her glass, and looks Eloise in the eye as she says, “No, I do not think you are wrong, per se, but I think you don’t recognise your own privilege in being able to say so.” Eloise snorts. “My privilege? You mean the privilege of having a brain?” A flash of irritation gives bite to Edwina’s reply, “No, I mean the privilege of having a wealthy, powerful and loving family that can support you.”

In that spirit he makes his way down to the river. He bathed properly at the Grove, eager to be rid of the stench and muck of the goblins, but who knows when there might be another chance even for a brief wash? And there is something meditative about splashing cool water on his face and feeling the drops trail down his neck and shoulders. It's as he raises his head, shaking some of the excess water from his hair, that Halsin realises he is not the only one awake as he had thought. The one who seems to be leading this group, the drow woman who freed him from his cage, sits atop one of the rocky outcrops by the river, head tilted back and eyes closed as she apparently enjoys the early morning sunlight.

“Hey.” He was sitting at his desk but got to his feet as she climbed inside, eyes raking over her like he might be able to discern what was wrong just from looking at her. “What’s going on?” “That . . . is a long story.” Maya gave a wry smile, shoving her hands into her pockets and looking around his room to avoid looking directly at him. He had redecorated since the last time she was here, the walls now the shade of red she knew was his favourite apart from one brick feature wall. A poster of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid hung on one wall, while on another was a pinboard covered in photos of his friends in both Texas and New York, ticket stubs and flyers from concerts and ball games he’d been to. A bookcase was filled half with books, half with video games, and in pride of place on one shelf was a signed baseball that Maya remembered him bragging about catching at a game he and Zay had been at last year. The hand he’d caught it with had been bruised for a good couple of weeks, but Lucas had insisted it was worth it. There was also a Luke Skywalker action figure, and next to it was a small, burlap sack with a label that read Sack O’ Gold. And hanging off the edge, she realised with delight, was a cowboy hat

I'm tagging @emilykaldwen, @wheremermaidsdwell, @roboticonography and as always, my meme buddy @theawkwardterrier, if you guys want to play!

#wip wednesday #my fic #tag game

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firstsprinces · 24 days

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Your eyes do not deceive you, I’m actually posting ahead of the game! For once, I actually have a decent amount to share and at a decent time of the day!

Outlaw Alex is nearing you soon!

I feel like an idiot because the lyric for the title is supposed to be "The Wind Whispered Softly That the Devil's to Blame" and for some reason my brain changed 'softy' to 'something'. Now I have to make the correction to literally everything I've created for it!

Anyway, here's the possible last share of Chapter One where Henry's putting aside his savings to send back to his family. Enjoy!

The next thing Henry takes out of his pocket are the coins he hasn't had a use for. His thumb glides over the ridges of the face that's been pressed into it. It's nothing like the schillings from his homeland that features nature, a crown, or the coat of arms of England. They're profiles of faces he doesn't recognize, that don't hold the extra value of being proud of what's engraved onto them. For a moment, he feels homesick but he pushes it aside because being in America is supposed to provide his life back at home something Henry wouldn't have been able to give if he had stayed. In the back of the drawer there's a small sack that's placed in one of its corners. He pulls the string open on the black velvet sack that he uses for his extra earnings, the coins making a chiming sound as they hit each other and then rest at the bottom of the sack It's not much but he's hoping that he's able to help his family back in England the best that he can from across the waters. Even though it's American currency, he still makes sure to send back whatever he has left over that isn't a necessity for him. His mother has always protested against this, but it makes Henry feel like him being gone is purposeful for everyone. Henry feels the weight of the bag in his palm once he closes it, and as he gently tosses it and catches it he wonders if he'll ever be able to make enough money to have any left over for himself to use for leisure. Could he ever have enough to take a break from writing pieces that lack substance to take a trip where he can journal his travels and make something meaningful out of them? Will he always be the English boy sat behind a typewriter that's not his and spend hours putting words together that absolutely bore him? When will he have his moment to be the son his father had such high hopes for? He needs to stop the thinking freely as he feels it becoming selfish. The world doesn't revolve around him. A world that's filled with riches men have yet to even discover will never wait for him. There will always be another great explorer who is paid a high price to make grand findings that will change human lives forever. After placing the sack back into the drawer, Henry finally shrugs his overcoat off and hangs it on the back of his chair. The tension in his shoulders drop with almost immediate relief before he begins his dinnertime setup that will entertainingly intrigue him for his remaining hours of being awake. Henry won't lie that everyday his final hour of work is consumed by his endearing excitement over getting to listen to the nighttime block over the radio.

Tagging: @priincebutt, @onthewaytosomewhere, @anincompletelist, and anyone else who has anything to share!

#firstprince #rwrb #firstprince fic #wip #red white and royal blue #firstprince fanfic #firstprince au #wip wednesday #outlaw alex

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eddiernunson · 1 year

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Trapped | Eddie Munson | Part 10

Prev Part | Master List | Next Part

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 20.1k

Also when going to add my tag list I realized I forgot during the last part to add my tag list. I am very sorry.

Warning: Cringey writing in which this version of the reader character is now written into even more of the show. Sometimes, she has nothing to add to the conversation. Sometimes she will take a line, sometimes the reader adds a line. It took literally months to write but personally only 35-40 minutes to read. But if you forgot a lot of what happens in first 9 parts then it might take longer.

There is no smut. Sorry.

Authors note: My life fell apart, guys. I had no motivation to write this. Some scenes were so daunting. I only wrote the scenes that affected the reader in any sense. There are moments where I cut dialogue because she couldn't hear it anymore but there are also moments in which she's not even present. You'll figure it out. I really tried to tie the characters and the bonds I created in my own story with what was happening in ST4.

Example. In my own story Robin and Nancy are already friends in a sense so none of that "so are we friends" but the Platonic with a capital P is still there.

And there is a lot of affection between reader and Eddie but I really tried not to take away the fact that these characters must be terrified out of their minds.

Chapter Five: The Nina Project

It’s about 7 in the morning, all of you have found a surface to lie down on, and the faint sound of Eddie calling out for someone suddenly rings loud in what falsely appeared to be a quiet morning. “Hey, Dustin, this is Eddie the Banished. You there?”

There is not a soul who even remotely stirs at the signal.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Dustin?” Dustin is peacefully sleeping propped up on the tv, but as Eddie calls out, “earth to Dustin!” Nancy bursts awake, and her brain catches up to reality.

“Hey, it’s Nancy.” She answers, her eyes still blurry from sleep.

“Wheeler! Hey.” Eddie says, relieved in an answer. “Um, I’m gonna need a food delivery, like, really soon, unless you want me going out into the world—"

“No. No, no, no. Don’t do that.” Nancy chirps out, falling into the trap he lays out for her. “Stay where you are, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen um, can you pick me up a six pack?” Nancy shakes her head at this, annoyed she perked up for it. “I know, it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now,” as he’s speaking, Nancy starts to look around the room to everyone passed out, and she notices two things. One, Dustin is sleeping. Two, Max is not. In fact, she’s nowhere to be seen. “-but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves.”

“Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Nancy hurriedly answers him, turning off the walkie as she sets it down.

“No, don’t you da- Wheeler? Wheeler?” Eddie asks, and he is met with radio silence.

“Dustin!” Nancy yells at Dustin, and it takes a moment for him to get his bearings, taking a second to look around him. “Wake up.”

“What?” Dustin manages out, still groggy.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?” She asks, frustrated and worried.

“Yep. Yep, yep, yep. Sorry.” He answers, rubbing his eyes.

“Then where is she?” She asks, gesturing to where Dustin still hadn’t noticed her gone.

“She’s right- there. A second ago. I swear I just dozed off for,” He checks his watch, and looks up at Nancy, almost afraid to tell her. “...an hour.”

Nancy and Dustin trudge upstairs, worried sick Max took off and is already levitating somewhere. Karen Wheeler notices, and as she asks if everything’s ok, Nancy sighs in relief as she spots Max crouched down, sitting at the table.

As it turns out, Max was drawing, and from the looks of it, she was going for a while. She explains what she saw, and a hypothesis is brought out by Dustin that it might’ve been in Vecna’s mind, seeing as Vecna went into Max’s. Dustin makes fun of the drawing, calling it vague but Nancy recognizes the stained-glass door immediately.

She pieces the labyrinth-like drawings together and creates a setting, Victor Creel’s house. It sets up a piece of the puzzle Nancy feels she’s been missing and she fast-walks back down the stairs to wake the rest of you.

(Not without pissing off Mr. Wheeler one last time just for funsies from Dustin.)

Nancy wakes you all up, and despite the group’s collective annoyance, its an agreement that you’re burning daylight and yesterday took much longer than any of you anticipated. As Nancy explains the Creel House, Steve asks what they’re supposed to do about it.

“The only thing we can do. Investigate.” Nancy answers.

Now here you were, pulling up to the abandoned house with everyone in tow. Everyone shuts the station wagon doors, and it feels eerie as you walk up to it. “Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve comments, and the group echos the thought.

As expected, the doors were nailed shut. The rest of you watch as Nancy and Steve work together on digging out the nails with hammers one at a time and it’s hard not to feel awkward even given the circumstances. “What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve asks, border-lining on whining.

“We’re not sure. We just know this house is important to Vecna.” Nancy answers, unsure herself but just needing something to investigate.

“Because Max saw it in Vecna’s red soup mind world?”

“Basically.”

“Great.”

“Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he’s back. Why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max.” Dustin interjects- ever so perceptive.

“We don’t think he’s in there, do we?” Lucas asks, sounding hesitant.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Says Max.

“Ready?” Steve asks Nancy, all the nails now out. She confirms, and the wooden panel comes down with a creek and an overly dusty thud.

“Dustin. Dustin!” You grab his attention, “Do you have any extra walkies in case he reaches out again?” You whisper to him bending down from the step above him.

“Shit. No, I don’t.” Dustin answers, apologetic.

“Fuck. Keep that thing on you, then. Someone might find him.” You say, pointing to the walkie sticking out of his bag.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dustin responds, and you let your head fall back hopelessly. You glare at him, hoping to get the message across. “I’ll do it!” Dustin yelps, and you still don’t believe him.

Steve attempts the door. “It’s locked. Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?” He asks, not helping the situation but it was funny.

“No need.” You look to face Robin, who was no longer right next to you, but standing at the bottom of the steps. She dramatically holds up a brick, looks to it, and looks back. “I found a key.”

Robin gleefully throws the brick through the window, glass going everywhere as the window shatters. Steve reaches in to open it, struggling to find the knob. Once he does, the door opens with a comically loud creek. It’s quiet, dark, and dusty.

Your flashlights are routinely turned on, each of you scanning the house as you walked in single file. You enter second to last, moving towards the bottom of the steps inquiringly.

“Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.” Lucas comments, and Dustin just turns on his flashlight.

“Where’d everyone get those?” Steve asks, looking around as he realizes everyone now has one.

Dustin glances back at him, and he pauses for a moment. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

“Thank you.” Steve deadpans.

“We grabbed them while you were in the bathroom, I think.” You comment, looking up at the impressive spider web in the corner of the room.

Dustin takes his backpack off, handing it to Steve. “Back pocket.”

This choice would come back to bite Dustin in the ass because Steve unceremoniously drops the bag onto the creaky hardwood, not knowing the promise Dustin had made you.

Nancy is peering into what looks like a living room. “They just left everything.”

“I guess a triple homicide isn’t good for resale value.” Robin jokes as you pass them, you elbow her to let her know it was genius as she thought it was.

“Hey guys?” Max calls out, and you all flock to where she’s standing. “You all see that right?”

“Yeah”

“Yeah.”

“Is this what you saw? In your visions?” Nancy asks her, noting her incredibly still stature.

Max nods silently, clearly scared.

“I mean. It’s… just a clock.” Robin comments, trying to make something terrifying mundane. “Right?” She weaves around Max, reaching up to wipe away the years of dust build up on the clock’s face. She looks back at the group. “Like a normal old clock.” She adds, and you’re not even sure she believes herself.

“Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?” Steve asks, looking off. “Maybe he’s like, a clockmaker, or something?” It’s…an interesting theory to say the least.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” You tell him, and he accepts the compliment, until he realizes it was not a compliment.

“Hey.” He calls out, but you’ve already moved on.

“All I know is, the answers are here. Somewhere.” Nancy says ominously. “Alright everyone stay in groups of two. Robin, upstairs.”

“Hey, hey there are seven of us.” You call out, following Nancy and Robin as they go up the stairs.

As you go up the stairs Max pairs with Lucas, walking further down the hall into the main level, and Steve and Dustin once again find themselves paired up.

Steve sighs heavily, and begrudgingly heads up the stairs.

“Was that a sigh?” Dustin asks, annoyed.

“No, I did not sigh.” Steve dismisses him outright.

“Why’d you sigh?”

“I didn’t sigh. Just come on dude.” He answers, sounding tired.

“I heard you.”

“W-we’re just always partners, okay?”

“What, you have a problem with that?”

“It’d just be nice to, I don’t know, mix it up a bit.”

You and Robin are exchanging looks that say “Oh god” as they continue yet another squabble, something that could’ve been heard through the entire house.

As they continued, the entire group misses the lights up on the roof spasming, showing signs that you weren’t exactly alone in the house.

Eddie sits across from a can, bored out of his mind for the thousandth time in two days, he’s currently playing a game his grandfather would’ve probably gotten a kick out of. Oh joy. He misses again.

Dammit.

A car drives by on the highway, and it startles Eddie out of his balance in a half crouch. He places his hands delicately onto the wooden windows, as to take a startingly quick glance outside.

Fuck. Please let it be a trick of the goddamn light. He glances back up, dammit. It was Jason and his crew all dressed in tuxes, heading for Rick’s house.

Jason had a crowbar in his hands.

“Shit. Shit.” Eddie whispers and looks out the back window to see how their investigation would go.

Oh god please let their perception check be shit.

They see the empty pot he left on the stove. They rolled a solid 17.

Shit.

“Hey, Dustin. You there? It’s Eddie. You remember me, right?” Eddie calls out, his teeth gritted as he crouches back on the floor so they wouldn’t see him. “Sweetheart?” He calls for you, hopelessly. “Hey. If anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here. Okay?” And someone would’ve answered it, had Dustin not taken his bag off. “Wheeler?” He waits, and it still takes too long for anyone to answer. He gives the walkie a tap out of frustration. “ANYBODY?”

Eddie decided it was a lost cause, and he has to do something. He’s in a boat house and there’s only one way out. Shit.

As you and Robin make your way through the rooms and unhelpfully make comments on their choice of decor, Nancy was wondering how she ended up with the two of you as partners. She should’ve gone with Dustin, at least his commentary would add up to something. She wanders off from you two, thinking she might have to deviate from her own rules.

She turns a corner when Steve comes running backwards out of the bathroom, sounding panicked as he moves his hands up and down his torso to get a spider that fell off a meter ago. “Whoa, whoa.” Nancy ushers out as she realizes he was about to back right into her. She settles him as he catches his breath. “What’s wrong?”

“There was a spider.” Steve manages out, still out of breath.

Robin, eavesdropping after hearing the collision in the hallway, perks up her ears and starts walking towards the two of them, you follow her when she wasn’t answering to where she was going. You start to realize she was intentionally going towards Nancy and Steve.

“What?”

“A black widow.” Steve puffs out. You hear a slamming of a door. “Don’t go in there.”

“Oh. Oh.” Nancy comments, and you had to admit your interest was also piqued at this very underwhelming field trip. “Wait just…”

“What?” Steve asks, his voice sounding panicked. “Something? Shit. Okay.”

“Wait. Stop moving.” Nancy chides him. “Stop. I just… I got it. I got it.”

“Thank you.”

You and Robin come around the corner in time to see Nancy picking a stray web out of Steve’s hair. “If there’s a spider, you’re never gonna find it till it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin taunts him, you struggling to keep in laughter right behind her.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve asks her, and it was rhetorical, but it seriously freaked him out.

Robin snorts, not taking anything too seriously as she wanders off. “Robin, seriously.” He calls out for her, and the two of you had already forgotten the conversation.

“She’s got problems” Steve explains to Nancy, checking out his hair for any loose web.

Nancy sighs, staring at a freckle on his neck she forgot about. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s cool you two are friends now. All of you. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something.” Steve says, trying to sound casual. “Me, you, Robin, Y/N, Jonathan, when he’s back.” He adds for good measure. “It’s not like we’re dating. Me and Robin. Not like we’re dating. Right? She told you? That we’re not?”

Nancy sighs at his rambling, having finally gotten any cobwebs out of his hair. “Yes. She made that very clear.”

You and Robin had made your way back into ear shot, having exchanged side-eyed glances the entire time Steve was rambling. “Platonic with a capital P.” She clarifies, giving cheeky thumbs up when Steve thanks her for making a point that is still, apparently touchy.

Huh. You thought he was over it by now. Then again, you only just found out about it yourself.

Steve lowers his voice, and suddenly you couldn’t hear his further mumblings. Something about the world being in peril always manages to convince you that Steve and Nancy weren’t exactly over. But then they barely have a conversation alone for the next eight months and all is well.

How is this the second time in a row they’re tricking you like this?

It takes a minute, but Nancy finally rejoins you both with a perplexed look on her face, and something tells you that Steve said something very like himself.

About five more minutes go by and Nancy seems like she’s about ready to give up hope, seeing as their search has only found decades old dust and spiderwebs when Lucas and Max call for everyone to come down to the main area.

Now all seven of you are staring up at the ceiling chandelier, lit up despite the lack of any electricity running through the house.

“It’s like the Christmas lights.” Nancy whispers after a moment of silence.

“The Christmas lights?” Robin asks her, wondering if she heard wrong.

“Yeah, when Will was in the Upside Down the lights… came to life.” Nancy stares at them doe eyes wide.

“Vecna’s here.” Lucas whispers. “In this house.”

“Just on the other side.” You finish for him, suddenly understanding why Nancy had trouble looking away.

As you finished, the lights continue to flicker brighter and brighter with each fade in and out until they fade altogether. “I think he just left the room.” Robin states.

“Did he hear us?” Max asks, peering around for an answer.

“Can he see us?” Steve asks.

“Headphones.” Lucas states, and Max slips her headphones on in a fluid but hurried motion.

“Wait, wait.” Nancy protests. “Everyone, turn off your flashlights and spread out.”

You all follow her orders, as Steve protests the act. “We won’t be able to see if we all turn off our...” he fades out as he watches everyone else follow orders. “Jesus Christ.”

Everyone wonders down the halls and into the rooms, watching for any sign of him. You’re on the other side of the house when Robin pipes out, “I got him! Got him!”

Your feet take you across the house ridiculously fast as she calls out a third time.

As you wonder into the room, the light fades out from her flashlight. “I…I had him.”

The light seems to jump right to yours, startling you as you peer at it. “Whoa. I... think he’s moving.” You chirp out as you move along the trajectory of where the light was going.

“Oh, he’s moving.” Steve confirms, trailing behind. “He’s moving.”

You follow the light, taking you back up the stairs and you feel like you’re on him when the light fades again. “Shit.” You mutter. “Lost him.”

“No, we didn’t.” Max calls out, seeing a shadow of a light into a room with an ajar door. At least, it looked like a room.

Max peers into the doorway and hesitantly but bravely follows to where the stairs go up. The crowd follows her up single file, and Robin is already over it. “It’s an attic. Of course it’s an attic.”

At the end of the line, Dustin peers around the corner and yells up the stairs, “Hold up, guys. What if he’s leading us into a trap?” No one answers. “Guys.” Dustin grits his teeth. “Guys!”

By the time he’s swearing repeatedly and following anyway, you are all already at in the attic.

Eddie was perched right by a window, peering out with wide eyes, his breath shallow and his heart racing, looking into Rick’s room as he watches Jason’s friends continue their search for him.

Eddie ducks down as he sees the realization in Jason’s eyes. As a last-minute resort, he takes out his walkie again. “Sweetheart, I really need a hand here.” He pauses, closes his eyes in frustration. “Dustin? Please. Are…are you there?” No response. “Never mind.”

Eddie finally does the thing he’s been debating on since getting trapped into this situation and gets back into the damn boat.

Jason kicks in the door of the boathouse, but all they see is water and an empty slot where a boat would be.

One thing Eddie will admit to as he is not an athlete. Nothing more of a struggle than attempting to get away in a canoe with only one person rowing wearing a two heavy, arm restricting jackets. He’s moving slowly and tentatively, as to not make too much noise to alert them but still make a getaway.

Somehow.

Any hope he has for getting away without them seeing him is lost in a second as he hears Jason yell, “Hey Freak!”

He looks back, and for the first time since getting roughed up badly in his early high school years, Eddie fears for his life.

“Where you think you’re going?” Jason yells, and as he undresses Eddie adds the equation together.

“Shit.” Eddie lurches to the back of the boat, pulling the cord at the engine with more energy than he knew he had. “Come on!” He yells at the engine spluttering, frustrated and scared. “Just,” pull, “come,” pull, “on! You piece of shit!” Eddie gives a strong pull, and he’s sure it would work until it splutters back down. “Come on.” He pats at the engine pathetically, shaking with adrenaline and nerves. “You gotta help me out here, man.” Eddie continues to beg the engine, still attempting to start it.

When he notices a figure splashing towards him in the distance, he knows he needs to start going. Somehow. “Nope? Okay. Alright. Okay.” Eddie stumbles across the boat back to the oar to start rowing away from Jason hurling towards him at a terrifying speed. Eddie tries not to look back at him, whimpering “Shit. Shit.” As each row gets him to what feels like nowhere.

Up in the attic at the Creel house, you make your way into the attic where a singular light bulb is fading in and out. As you’re looking up at it, Dustin calls out, “Flashlights.”

You look down to yours, and it’s lit up. Every one of them are. The crowd gathers around the light bulb, flashing your torches up towards it.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Asks Steve. None of you know, but you all peer up at the light, looking around the room and waiting for an answer.

Panic is now starting to really set in Eddie’s nerves as the two jocks almost catch up to him, barley escaping them. Eddie’s freaked out, panting, and far too exhausted to keep rowing at the rate he is. At a last-minute ditch effort to get rid of them, he gets up, and uses his oar to swing at them. “Hey, stay back, man! Stay back! Stay back!” He yells, his voice getting louder as his desperation grows.

He was trapped next to someone who never had a decent opinion about him to begin with now with a vendetta and armed. The only thing around him was water and with the rate Jason caught up to him he was not going to be able to swim away. None of this was pleasant.

“Come on! We almost have him.” Jason chokes out at Patrick, who is staring off into space. “Hey Patrick. Patrick! Patrick!”

Patrick suddenly is yanked into the water, and Eddie has no idea what’s going on, staring cluelessly into the water.

He had one idea, but he hoped he was wrong.

Jason continues to call out for him and its silent except for the sounds of the water in Lover’s Lake.

A splash erupts from the water’s surface as Patrick is elevated into midair.

Upon seeing the image of a body pulled into midair by nothing again Eddie steps back from it as far as he can get in bewilderment and momentarily forgets he is in a small boat, falling backwards into the water.

Your flashlights only continue to get brighter until Robin’s light pops, and it continues all in a circle causing each one of you to jerk away from it.

Eddie scrambles to swim back up to the surface, facing something he had hoped he would never have to see again. The cracks? Worse than he remembered.

Much worse.

All the lights seem to explode as Patrick’s extend limbs are cracked, finishing in sync as his eyes are, well, pulled.

Jason lands back in the water with a splash, Jason left to grab him while Eddie gets away only to find that his walkie no longer worked.

Fuck.

Episode 6: The Dive

It takes two hours of walking for Eddie to finally find the construction site he knew was happening by Lover’s Lake. They were onsite for almost a week at that point and Eddie thanked his lucky stars his uncle knew so many construction folks nearby. He spent the entire time wondering how he was going to manage a walkie out of one of their belts.

The first time a worker is in the bathroom he is beside himself in the bushes wondering how he would grab one. It was only when the door opened did the walkie sitting in the belt on the cutting table did he realize his missed opportunity. As the same worker makes his way back to the bathroom a mere 8 minutes later does Eddie sneak up behind the porta-potty. It wasn’t the smartest of ideas due to an odor assaulting Eddie’s nose but creeping to the cutting table to preen the walkie out of the tool belt was all worth the while.

The relief that Eddie felt as he ran back into hiding was unexplainable. As he walked in further back into the woods, he realized he recognized the path, and he knew that Steve should, too.

You sat in the back corner of the station wagon, your eyes popping open as Steve hits you with a licorice wand. You furrow your brows at him, he points to it mouthing, eat it.

Your eyes shift downward to your lap seeing the licorice in question. “Aren’t these for Eddie?” You ask, annoyed.

“Not the licorice.” Steve responds, words garbled thanks to a half-eaten wand in his mouth.

Your brows raise, as Steve was literally snacking on the chips you know you had picked out for Ed. Steve looks at you confused, his mouth half open and his pretty eyes peering up at you. You point to the chips. “It’s fine. That’s why we got more chips.” Steve says, gesturing to the numerous Pringle tubes at your feet.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the licorice hanging out of your mouth as you lay your head back down.

“Not to be a wimp, but can I sit in the car?” Robin’s voice comes out of nowhere, and you open your eyes to see you had made a lot of progress out to the Lake. “’Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Nancy assures her.

“I can’t stand to see those dull eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.” Robin mutters and you wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve calls out, holding the case of beer he had gotten Eddie.

“That’s what my mom does.” Max says off handedly.

“Why don’t we give it a trial? ‘Hey Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Y/N approved junk food and that six-pack you requested.”

Dustin turns to you from where he’s between Max and Lucas. “Didn’t I provide most of the suggestions?” He asks, furious.

You roll your eyes, too tired and just looking forward to seeing that he was okay. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not the one whose—"

“Dustin there are bigger battles.” Steve interjects and Dustin turns around defiantly.

“Can I get back to the point? Practise?” Robin calls out, and she takes the silence as a guilty yes. “Where was I?”

“Uh, six pack.” Nancy offers.

“Right. ‘Oh yeah! We found Vecna. Bad news is that he’s in that other, darker, much scarier dimension, and the gate’s closed and so we have no way of getting to him. He’s entirely shut off to us, so basically, you’re screwed. And, no, I know you were already screwed, but now you’re liked, doubly, triply screwed.”

An audible gulp leaves your throat as the situation you have spent more time than you care to tell attempting not to think about how bad it was. Max’s concerned eyes land on you and you can barely hold back the mist that makes it into your eyes.

Not gonna cry. Not yet.

“Well. Maybe we don’t put it like that.” Lucas offers, his glance switching back to you. These looks of pity were charming yesterday. Now they’re about to get on your nerves.

“We’re one step closer to finding Vecna.” Nancy counteroffers. “That’s what we say. That’s what’s important.”

“See Robin? Positive spin can make all the difference.” Steve calls out, and you grit your teeth.

“Uh huh.” Robin calls back.

“Oh shit.” Nancy curses and you pipe up to see what she saw.

Shit.

A police cruiser, news van, and a crowd. You smile lamely at Steve as he crawls out the back area of the car and you stay, watching the mess from afar.

Despite you being unable to leave the car due to exposure Nancy leads all of them to around the van. Shit. What was going on?

Fuck it.

You got out of the back, using the police’s distraction in making civilians back up to sneak up behind the van. You round the back as Powell was describing the scene. You caught the end of his sentence, “homicide on the lake.”

“You can’t be here.” Robin whispers, you swat her off and shush her to listen to what he has to say.

“Officer Callahan here and myself arrived first on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover’s Lake, about ten yards from that house you see behind me. It was there that we found the victim, an 18-year-old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.” Oh shit. That was one of Jason’s friends. Lucas played with him. “His limbs…his body, it was disfigured… There was an eyewitness on the scene. We have also identified a person of interest.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you pray that they’ve found another person to pin it on. Someone else. You would help prove their innocence of course but please, someone else.

You don’t realize how tense you already are, with your shoulders scrunched and teeth gritted until the chief flips up Eddie’s senior photo. The one he was so excited to take, to be a yearbook as a graduating senior.

Now used as his identifier as a suspected murderer.

All tension leaves your body in the worse way and looking back you wondered if you had the reaction because you could not have any more tension. You divert your eyes from any caring friends’ glances, you just needed to find him.

“Eddie Munson. We encourage anyone with information to please come forward.”

“Oh man.” Steve groans out. “This is not good. Really not good.”

Yeah, no shit, you shoot him an icy stare.

You barely hear what the chief finishes off his statement as the press have questions for him. What comes loud and clear, however, is the sound of Eddie’s voice on a walkie. “Sweetheart. Y-Y/N. Dustin. Can you hear me? Wheeler?”

His voice should’ve made you feel better, but a tear falls down your face as you realize he still doesn’t know the town will be on a hunt for him soon. “Answer him.” You choke out as Dustin already has the walkie in hand.

“Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

You follow closely behind the crowd around the walkie, sniffling and attempting to get yourself together.

“Nah, man. Pretty...pretty goddamn far from okay.”

At least the two of you were in the same emotional state.

“Where is he?” Robin asks.

“Where are you?” Dustin repeats.

“Skull rock. Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s near Cornwallis and-“

“Garrett, yeah.” Steve says, interrupting him. “I know where that is.” Steve takes off into the trees and it takes a moment for your brain to catch up to the idea that he wasn’t going to the car.

“Hold tight. We’re coming. We’re coming.” You hear Dustin call out, and it felt like the end of that.

“She okay?” Eddie calls out, and its so quiet Dustin stops and asks him to repeat it. “My girlfriend. Y/N? Is she okay?”

You nod to Dustin when he looks up to you for help. Say yes. Do not be honest. You don’t need him to worry about you on top of being on the run. “Yeah. She’s ok. A little shaken up but she’s ok.”

“Good.”

You smile at Dustin in thank you when Nancy calls out. “Hurry up, we’re not waiting!”

Shit. You run to catch up.

Why did there have to be an uneven number? You wonder as you walk in front of Nancy and Robin, arms crossed as there wasn’t enough room for 3 to walk side by side.

You’re walking and absentmindedly admiring some particularly tall trees while eavesdropping on Steve and Dustin’s argument ahead of you. “Dude, I’m telling you, we’re taking us the wrong way.”

“It’s north. I’m positive. I checked the map.” Dustin answers the same way yet again.

“You do realize Skull Rock, it’s a super popular make out spot?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular. All right? I practically invented it. We’re heading in the wrong direction.” Steve takes off in a harsh left, and Dustin calls out for him. “Stop whining. Let’s go. Trust me.”

You get used to the different terrain, walking downhill instead of slanted. As you do, Robin and Nancy catch up to you as it seems to get larger. You smile at the company.

“Okay, so apparently we’re going this way now?” Max pipes out. “I swear to God, if they get us lost…” She pauses, and you, Robin and Nancy give each other a look. “Hey. You okay?”

Robin stops you and Nancy, extending her arms out as to prevent either one of you from walking any further. “Wha-?”

“Shh” she shushed you, quick and fluid. “C’mere.” She leads you and Nancy to the side of the path that Dustin and Steve are still walking, and she clings onto a tree to get a good vantage spot.

“Uh, yeah.” He answers distractedly. “I’m fine. Just…thinking about Patrick. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s… it’s like, why him? But then, I remember this one day, he…he came to practice with a black eye. He said he fell, but clearly, he was lying. It’s like everyone Vecna targets has something in their life. Something that’s—”

“Hurting them.” Max finishes for him. “Haunting them.”

“Yeah. I…I didn’t really know Patrick, so it was easy to just look the other way, I guess. But I did know you.” This rings true, and you remember observing her pulling back but not saying much. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault.” She dismisses him, but Lucas wouldn’t have it.

“No.”

“I disappeared.”

“No, no, you didn’t. I just didn’t look hard enough. Okay? But I see you now. I see you.” Knowing how hard it is for Max to be vulnerable that felt mystifying to hear Lucas say it.

As Lucas and Max continue down the path, Robin scrambles her way out of the tree she had made her way into, subtly starting back the path up to Skull Rock.

Your heart pitter-pattered. Eddie was at Skull Rock.

Robin scoffs. “Oh my God, they’re so adorable I just wanna squeeze ‘em, you know? If I’m permitted to see a silver lining in this end-of-the-world doom and gloom, it would be the rekindling of old flames that, frankly, never should have been snuffed out.” You and Nancy share a look before both turning your heads to face her. “I-I didn’t mean that as a hint or anything.”

“Right.”

Like a burning fire you can’t look away from. You knew that on some level Steve was still pining after Nancy but also Robin outright admitting to rooting for it.

“But if I did mean it as a hint would that be so terrible? To wish happiness for my friends?” Robin asks Nancy.

Nancy scoffs, “You think I’m not happy?”

“I…I’m sure you are.” Robin responds, assuring her. “It’s just, the other day, I mentioned Jonathan, and you flinched or winced or something like—”

“I didn’t flinch or wince.” Nancy protests, her voice annoyed.

“Ok.”

“Jonathan and I are fine.”

“Got it.”

“We’re good.”

“Right.”

It almost feels like a stand-off as you stand between the two of them.

You’re sure Nancy is about to dismiss the idea altogether…until her face shifts only for a moment. With Jonathan refusing to come up for Christmas and him procrastinating his applications repeatedly, it made sense.

“It’s just…” The three of you continue walking as she gathers her thoughts. “He was supposed to be here for the break, and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason. And to be honest, I’m not that surprised because I’ve been feeling him pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because we’re 2,000 miles away or if he met someone new or what. And now I can’t find out why because apparently, he’s blown up his family’s house phone or something. So yeah, if… if the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm on my face, that’s… probably why.”

“Seems like a perfectly reasonable to flinch, wince, or something.” You comment, and Nancy turns to you, smiling softly.

“Oh, boom!” Steve calls out from the other side of some plants. “Bada Bing, Bada Boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock! In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

“It doesn’t make sense” Dustin’s voice echos.

“Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. Can’t admit you’re wrong, you butthead.”

You hear a loud echo of someone landing on the ground, and you nearly crumble in relief when you hear his voice. “I concur.” Dork. “You, Dustin Henderson are a… total butthead.”

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin tells him and you attempt to not let jealousy get a hold of you as you hear the back pats of a man hug.

“Yeah, me too, man.” You can’t hold it back anymore and run into a full sprint to him, ignoring the looks you know Robin and Nance are giving the back of your head. As you collide with him, his back towards you but you didn’t mind. “Whoa—” Your arms wrap around his stomach, squeezing him tight as you inhale the scent on the back of his jacket.

He turns around to face you, having trouble as your hold on him is so tight. “Hi, sweetheart.” He chirps out, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Missed you.” You mutter into his chest, and the faint smell of his odor is there, and you can’t help but feel guilty as he has been on the run for two days while you got to change your clothes.

He hums. “I missed you more than you know.”

You look up at him, chin still connected, and all tension in your body seems to leave at once.

As the town rushes out of town hall while ignoring Sheriff’s calls for a mandatory curfew, your mom sits nearly stunned in silence. Jason Carver, a boy that you have complained about to her repeatedly, lead a slam campaign that led to a town wide hunt for Eddie. Her heart stutters, she has no idea where you are, how Eddie could prove himself innocent, and what she is to do now.

Her head turns to face Karen along with both Dustin and Lucas’ parents and they all give her a look of strained pity. However much pity they feel for your mom, the hopelessness that Dustin’s mom felt seemed to overshadow it.

As they gathered in an inconspicuous circle Karen hushed Lucas’ mom as she attempted to talk. “They should all be back at the house, including your daughter. C’mon.” Somehow your mom doubted you were there, but the nagging hint of hope in the back of her mind made her want it anyway.

The rubber was harsh and stark against the cement as the parents’ cars pulled into the Wheeler’s driveway. All car occupants were leaving the cars as soon as they were put into park and right into the house.

Karen Wheeler entered her house in a rush, looking around anxiously around her house for any sign of any of the kids. “Guys?” She goes to the top of the stairs, opening the door to the basement. “Are you down here? Guys?” At the bottom of the stairs Karen looks around in her dark and dingey basement, and understands they are not in the house. She runs back upstairs. “They should have been back by now. They should be back.”

“What time was the movie?” Lucas’ mom asks.

“Uh, four hours ago.”

“Hate to break it to you, Mrs. Wheeler, but they lied to you.” Erica says, confident in her statement.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Holly sings, being a little sister.

“Holly.” Ted chides her.

“We don’t think they’re actually involved with this Eddie guy, do we?” Dustin’s mom asks frantically.

“Eddie did not do this.” Your mom pipes up, placing her hand out to “calm” her.

“How can you be sure?” Lucas’ mom asks her.

“Because they’ve been dating for five months and he’s been over so many times I put leftovers in my fridge for him to find.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t—”

“He didn’t do it. Let’s just focus on finding our kids.” Your mom finishes the discussion with finality.

Karen Wheeler passes your mom to the phone on the wall.

“You’re calling the theater?” Erica asks incredulously.

“The police.”

Now that Eddie has been located, it was imperative that you decided on a next step. The big question was to why Eddie didn’t get a hold of anyone after Patrick got Vecna’d. “When I got to the shore, I tried calling you guys but, uh,” he takes a large swig of his water and no, you weren’t staring at his throat as he did it. (You totally were.) “My walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently. I ran.” He chuckles in his self deprecation, intentionally missing the look you give him.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asks, and she has a hypothesis, you could just tell.

“Yeah, no, I…I know exactly what time it was.” Eddie moves to take off his watch. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

He tosses her the watch, nearly missing it at the lack of caution Eddie had used to throw it to her.

“9:27”

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey” Robin adds.

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asks, still out of the loop.

“The surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.” Nancy answers.

“Well, we’re one step closer. We know how Vecna attacks.” Robin adds.

“And where he attacks from.” Lucas says.

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max concludes.

“If he has a heart.” Robin jokes.

“A stake? Is he like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve asks the last part of his sentence as if he was genuinely worried about the possibility.

“It was a metaphor” Max stresses.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie offers, you shoot a look at him in surprise. What he mouths to you.

A gun? You mouth back.

He shrugs. It would work.

“I say we chop his head off” Lucas declares as you and Eddie are having your silent conversation.

“I’d say all the above, but we can’t do any of that til we find a way to the Upside Down.” Nancy points out.

You look to Dustin, realizing he hasn’t spoken much, which was unlike him. You kick down to your boyfriend’s leg right next to you to point him out when you see him pacing like a madman.

“We need El to get her powers back.” Max complains.

“We had this girl. She had superpowers.” Steve starts to explain to Eddie.

“Yeah, I met El. Hey, uh, Henderson’s not uh, cursed, is he?”

“Cursed? No, no he’s fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

“Boom!” All of you are startled by Dustin’s loud voice echoing through the forest turning to face what madness was going on his brain this time. “Bada. Bada. Boom.”

Steve’s face scrunches up in bewilderment.

“I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

“Seriously? You’re serious?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“This is Skull Rock. Okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong. Right now.”

“Yes.” Dustin agrees with him. “And no.” Ok now you were lost, too.

“Oh my god.” Steve exclaims as he hides his face in his hands to rub the stress off.

Dustin holds up his compass. “This worked correctly when we left the Wheelers’. Correct when we got in the car on Kerley. But it started to slip the further east we went. Now it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

“So, you’re using faulty equipment. You’re still wrong.” Steve is still somehow arguing and missing Dustin’s point completely.

Dustin’s head tilted argumentatively, “Except it isn’t faulty. Lucas, remember what can affect a compass?”

Lucas scratches his head thoughtfully for only a fraction of a second. “An electromagnetic field.”

“Yep.”

“Electro-what?” You stutter out.

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power.” You glance to your boyfriend and watch as his eyes slowly start to glaze over as he doesn’t take a single word Dustin is saying. You felt less stupid. “So, either there’s a super big magnet around here, or…”

“There’s a gate.” Lucas finishes, the only one on the same page. (The same book, for that matter.)

Dustin points to Lucas, confirming.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab.” Nancy points out.

“But what if, somehow, there’s another gate? A gate that we don’t know about. It’d have to be smaller, way less powerful.”

“Snack-size gate.” Robin quips.

“How? Why?” Steve asks.

“No idea. All I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we’d have a way to get to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max from this curse.” Dustin seems to miss the social ques of everyone fidgeting as they’re still unsure of what any of what he’s saying means, as he turns around the opposite direction to let the compass show him a path to the gate.

That is, if there was one to begin with.

“Where are you going? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” Steve calls out to him, and Dustin turns around exasperated. “Y/N’s still being sought out for questioning and Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods.”

“This little steel capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie.” Dustin pauses, raising his arms out dramatically to him. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

All the attention is turned towards your boyfriend, who is still perched onto his toes and crouched down. “I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” dork, “which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea. But, uh, the Shire…the Shire is burning.”

Dustin starts hopping up and down excitedly, his smile bared from ear to ear.

Without warning Eddie lurches himself up onto his feet, and you have to move away from him to not get hit by his dramatics.

“So, Mordor it is.” He walks right passed anyone in the circle to start walking, and it takes a moment for the rest of the group to catch up.

“Ed!” You call out to him as they weave around him. He jerks himself back around to you. “Your stuff?” You point to your feet where a white grocery bag still sat.

“Get your stuff dude, let’s go.” Steve berates him, and you give him the stink eye as you pass. “What?” Steve asks you, and you decide to leave it be. There are bigger battles right now.

Much bigger.

By the time the Compass is guiding you anywhere, the sun is nearly set on another day. Something tells you that there aren’t many days left.

The crowd half pays attention to Dustin at the very front and his numerous zig-zags but the chatter remains. You find yourself walking next to Eddie, his hands brushing against yours as your strides match each other’s. “Police hadn’t gotten a hold of you, yet, eh?”

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip. “Nope. I don’t think if they had attempted to question me now, I would be any help.”

“Nah. You would save me.”

“Would I?” You counter back. “I’m so glad to be with you in person. Not knowing if you were ok, I felt sick to my stomach since the news broke out from in front of your trailer.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you like that.” Eddie states, his voice calm and soothing. “I should’ve called you—”

“No. It’s good you didn’t.” You interrupt him.

“No instead of running I should’ve come to you.” He argues back.

Your stride stops mid step, forcing him to stop, too. “You didn’t do anything wrong by reacting how you did, Eddie.” He doesn’t believe you, his eyes avoiding yours as they twitch around the light pink sky. “Hey. Look at me.” He hesitates, then they gaze back down to you. “You couldn’t have reacted any better than to get yourself away from the situation. You didn’t know what was happening. Someone was lifted into air with all 206 bones in their body broken by seemingly nothing. That was an appropriate response. I need you to know that.” You hold your hands out to frame his face, petting his cheeks and taking in the bags that were so heavy underneath his eyes from stress and lack of sleep.

Eddie goes silent, nodding. He places a hand on top of yours, grabbing it so he can gently kiss it. You grab his hand and lead him so you continue walking. You knew he still didn’t believe you but at least you got to tell him.

“C’mon, lovebirds! We don’t have all day!” Robin calls, about ten feet ahead of you.

Your eyes roll, and you know she says it out of love.

“I just hope Wayne knows.” He mutters under his breath.

“He does.” Nancy says, and you didn’t realize you had almost caught up to her, having let Robin continue walking down.

“You figure?” Eddie asks her, placing his hands in his pockets apprehensively.

“I know.”

“Wait a minute.” Eddie drops your hand and uses his long limbs to get next to Nancy. “What do you mean?”

“I went to the trailer park when news broke out to get a story for the school newspaper.” That was a very small summary of a much more nuanced story but that was beside the point. “I had went to every neighbour on your lot for a quote but they weren’t much help. I only had one possible person to go to and I had initially avoided him out of respect.”

“Wayne.”

Nancy nods. “He was on the bench, smoking. He wouldn’t even talk to me at first, he said he already talked to reporters who all had their story already. Once I convinced him, he…surprised me.” She admitted softly.

“What…what did he say?” His voice is soft, holding back.

“He doesn’t think you did it.” Nancy states outright. Eddie stumbles back in surprise. “He truly doesn’t think you did it. He said you might be rough around the edges, but he knew you weren’t capable of doing what happened to Chrissy.”

Eddie audibly gulps, his eyes blinking rapidly as he attempts to hold back his tears. “He. He. He said that?”

“There was no doubt in his mind. He knows you’re innocent.” Nancy smiles up at him, closed mouthed with a sad disposition on her face.

“Thank you.” He tells her, and she nods before walking up to meet back up with her designated walking buddy.

Eddie waits as you catch up to where he’s standing, and his eyes are glossy. “You okay? Need a minute?” He shakes his head jerkily to deny it, as he’s only staying silent so he won’t fucking cry. “Alright. Let’s go I think they’re starting to pick up.”

As it got dark, the group dissipated into several different pairings of walking buddies. You somehow found yourself sandwiched walking behind Eddie and in front of Steve.

As you get used to the group’s formation, talking softly as you continue, Dustin is hyper focused on the compass as it steadily twitches more and more. Out of nowhere he starts into a full sprint, running towards where the compass takes him.

“Dustin? Can you slow down? Dustin?” Eddie calls out for him and runs when he realizes Dustin paid no attention.

As Dustin and Eddie run out of sight everyone struggles to keep up with him. “I think we’re getting close.” Dustin calls out.

Eddie catches it before you could even call out, grabbing Dustin by the backpack before he takes another step. “Watch your step, big guy.”

“Oh man. You gotta be shitting me.” Steve exclaims as all eight of you stare out into the open water of Lover’s Lake. “Yeah. I thought these woods were familiar.”

“Lover’s Lake.” Robin names the body of water you were all staring at.

“This is confounding.” Dustin mutters, rubbing his eyeballs.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asks out loud.

“Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening. Maybe Vecna’s the same way.” Nancy deducted.

This is how you knew you wouldn’t have survived without her. Your brain couldn’t even process it.

“Yeah, only one way to find out.” Steve stares out into the open water. “How are we supposed to find out?” He asks, pointing out the obvious problem that was already vexing Dustin.

“Well.” Eddie pipes up, a smirk on his face.

After Eddie leads the group along the edge to where he had stashed Rick’s boat, tugging the tarp off with flair. It’s small and definitely wouldn’t fit everyone, but it would do.

The boat is picked up by you, Robin, Steve, and Eddie about four footsteps back into the water into shore. Eddie and Steve takeover to put the boat into the water, Eddie being a bit rougher than necessary. You maintain that he didn’t know his own strength.

“Easy…I” The boat lands with the metal creaking against the ground loudly, “I said easy, man.”

“Sorry, dude.”

Robin lines up to get into the boat, rejecting Steve’s extended hand. “Yeah, I’m just gonna do that.” She mutters, placing her hands flatly on top of their heads. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, that works, too.” Steve mutters.

Eddie climbs in, turning around to extend a hand to help you in. You grab onto it, annoyed at the rickety balance and lack of footing a boat provides for you as you step in. “Thanks.” You mutter to him, he winks flirtatiously back.

He turns around to face Nancy, also ready to climb in. Eddie extends his hand out to her, offering the same courtesy he gave to you.

“Yeah, you got her.” Steve mutters, still holding the boat.

“Wheeler.”

“Thanks.”

Dustin gives one last goofy look to his friends before attempting to get in. Eddie reaches out to flick him back. “Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us? This thing holds three people tops, okay?”

Nancy bends sideways to see around Eddie. “It’s better this way, okay? You guys stay here with Max.” Eddie lets her move past him. “Keep an eye out for trouble.”

“You keep an eye out.” Dustin retorts childishly.

Nancy squints. Dustin makes an exasperated face back.

“It’s my goddamn theory. Plus, there are already four people on the boat.”

“You heard Nance.” Robin adds.

“Who put her in charge?”

“I did.”

“Compass.” Nancy states, holding her hand out for Dustin. Dustin sticks out his bottom lip, pouting as he reaches in to give Nancy the compass.

Steve pushes out the boat very slightly before saying, “Hey, there you go.”

Thwump. Dustin gets his backpack thwarted into his face. “Ow.” Steve uses the distraction to push the boat out into the water, using the momentum to get in. “You said three! That’s five!”

“Sorry.” Steve calls back, sincerely apologetic.

You and Eddie use the oars you had both grabbed and started rowing out, using Steve’s momentum to help get further.

Robin couldn’t help herself, as she was holding back her giggling with much difficulty. “Bedtime at 9, kiddos!” She calls out, to which Dustin coldly flips her off. This just egged her on. “Miss you already!” She calls out, standing up on the boat as she does.

About three minutes go by, and in all the effort rowing takes it felt like forever when Nancy finally speaks up. “Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. Slow down guys.”

You and Eddie had taken the hint, using the oars to stop the boat from floating any further. All five of you peer into a circle with the compass centered, observing the way the arrow turned jaggedly without direction.

“Whoa.” Steve comments when he gets a good look at it.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin’s voice erupts from the walkie, “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Robin picks it up. “Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘aah!’.”

Steve starts to undress; you didn’t notice him take his shoes off, but it was far more obvious as he took of his socks. “Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy asks him.

“Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out.” He mutters. “Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years then…it’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right.?”

Eddie lets out a silent chuckle. “Hey, I’m not complaining.” He looks over the side of the boat, peering into what looked to be a void of darkness. Night lake blindness was real and terrifying. “I do not wanna go down there.”

You reach out across where Robin was sat next to you, tapping his arm lightly to berate him. What? He signals to you. You just ignore it. He rolls his eyes, bringing out the white plastic bag he had in his jacket to empty all its containments on the bottom of the boat. You watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing. You watch him as he wraps the plastic bag around the flashlight, completely missing Nancy ogling Steve as he took off his shirts.

Eddie finishes the bag by tying it securely in a bow with the loops. “Hey.” He calls out to Steve, handing it to him. “Good luck.”

As Steve looks back to him, you peer up at him in awe. Something about this angle just looked so good on him. “Thanks.”

Steve prepares himself to hop in the water and Eddie pulls out one of his joints to pass the time while he’s down there. As he’s just about to light it, Robin pulls the joint out of his grasp and flings it into the water. “Gross.”

Eddie grits his teeth, shaking his head in a What the hell manner.

“Steve?” Nancy asks, and Steve peers back to her. You swear they share a moment before she says, “Be careful.”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response, just gives a subtle yet jagged nod. Without anymore notice, he dives in, the water creating a jarring splash in the quiet of the nighttime.

A few moments pass in awkwardness. It was odd, considering up until last week there really wasn’t any awkwardness to speak of. “Robin?”

“Hmm?” She replies to you.

“Now that Steve is momentarily out of the boat, can you—”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Robin moves her butt over to where Steve was sat, and you’re now able to have leg room.

“So, when was the first-time you guys dealt with… the other…world?” Eddie asks, leaning forward onto his knees with one arm and holding your hand with the other.

“1983” Nancy answers him without missing a beat.

“Is that it?” He asks again, but he already knew the answer.

“Again in 1984, and last time was in the summer.” You add, and Nancy nods along.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Remember the mall burning down?” Robin prompts him. “That was us.”

Eddie turns to look at you pointedly. “You helped burn the mall down?”

“Hey, did you want to turn into a giant flesh-eating monster?” You jab back at him. Eddie slowly nods his head to indicate no, he did not want that. “Us either. So, we got rid of it with fire. We figured out in ’84 they hate fire.”

“They?” Eddie asks, and you know he doesn’t even know what a demogorgan is. Hasn’t asked.

“Irrelevant. The point is. It was the mall, or Hawkins, so we did what was necessary.”

“So,” Eddie starts, “did the chief know about this?”

Everyone goes silent, as Hopper died a hero but not for the reasons Hawkins thought. “Yeah. He’s El’s dad. In fact, without Hopper most of us would’ve died two years ago.” Nancy comments.

“Oh.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry to—”

“It’s fine, Ed.” You tell him. I love you. You mouth to him.

I love you too.

Robin leans forward to Nancy as she looks back to her watch, having kept track of time the entire conversation. “Where we at, Nance?”

“Closing in on a minute.”

“Okay.” Robin lets out an audible huff, a way to let out pent up anxiety.

“Do you, do you hear something?” You ask, hearing a commotion come from where Lucas, Dustin, and Max were sat down.

“I see flashlights.” Robin offers. “Shit. Cops.”

“We should be good, right?” You ask anxiously.

Robin peers over the edge, watching for Steve to come back up. “As long as Steve comes back faster.”

Only two seconds pass of silence when it’s interrupted by the sound of water gushing loudly as Steve erupts out. The four of you are startled from the loud noise, Eddie letting out an involuntary, “Oh, Christ!”

Steve attempts to catch his breath his he barks out, “I found it.”

“You found it?” Nancy asks, confirming what she had heard.

“Yeah, I found it.” He pants, swimming up to the boat.

Robin grabs the walkie out. “Dustin, you are a goddamn Einstein. Steve found the gate.”

Steve maintains hold of the boat still panting. “It’s more of a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.” Abruptly Steve “falls” back into the water, his hands leaving the boat as if he had no choice. You all clamour towards him, wondering what was happening. Steve grabs back onto the boat, looking back down at the water worriedly. Just as abruptly and clearly Steve was pulled back down into the water, the four of you yelling after him.

“Steve!” Nancy yells after him, both hands on the edge of the boat with her knees almost going over the edge.

All three of you girls call his name repetitively, hoping on some sort of level it would call him back to you.

Eddie was by himself, panicking. “No! No! What the hell was that, man?” Eddie asks no one in particular.

“Nancy, really, what happened?” Robin calls out to her loudly.

“Jesus!” Eddie yelps out in a higher note than you knew he could even manage.

Your mind was panicking but you were watching her closely as to what she would do. It was obvious what was on her mind when Nancy stands up and moves to the edge. “Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie stops her. “You’re not going in there, are you?”

Nancy pauses. “Just-wait here.” She says, holding out her arms. Leaving no room to argue she dives into the water.

“No, Nancy!”

“Nancy!”

“Goddammit!” Eddie calls out, frustrated and you would be entertained by him if your cortisol levels weren’t so high.

Mere moments pass by, and you already knew it was going to happen when Steve was pulled in as Robin sits up onto the edge of the boat.

“No, no, no, no. What are you doing? She said wait.” Eddie states, his voice nearly desperate.

“Yeah. I heard her.” Robin pipes back.

“She’s in charge.” Eddie bites, pointing sharply at the water.

Robin laughs hoarsely. “Are you kidding? I made that shit up.”

Robin plugs her nose, scooting back and falls back into the water with a splash as Eddie calls out to her. He sighs, turning his head to you, and you’re already standing at the edge. “No. No. Don’t go. Please.” He asks, much gentler to you than to either of the other girls.

You sigh to him empathetically. He didn’t sign up for this. “Sorry, Ed. It’s what we do. When someone’s in trouble…” you drift off, not finishing your sentence, jumping feet first into the lake. Before water engulfs you, you hear the last of Eddie begging you to stay in the boat.

As you start to move towards the vaguely red light at the bottom of the lake, praying you don’t run out of air, Eddie is still on the surface. “Goddammit! Lying son of a—” He picks up a snack he had from his bag and throws it to the other side. He stands up of the boat, pacing as he looks into the water. “Son of a bitch! Oh, this is so stupid, this is so stupid, this is so stupid.” Before he could procrastinate the inevitable any further, he takes the leap, “Shit, shit, shit—” his last curse is engulfed by the water as he takes the leap as well.

When you emerge on the other side of the gate back into the Upside Down, you find Robin and Nancy standing there, both looking off into distances. You land on your hands and knees coughing up the water you had managed to swallow. “Shit.” You mutter. “Where’s—” you still didn’t have your breath back yet. “Where’s Steve?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Suddenly, the sounds of creatures from the blaring sky erupt and off into the distance you can see a bat- a demo-bat that is, fly down to a specific target. Steve. Nancy looks to you and Robin, all thinking the same thing.

Nancy extends her hand to help you up with Eddie bursts out from the gate as well. “Fuck!” He yells, coughing as he wipes his face. “Jesus Christ. That was—” You hand an oar to him, interrupting his train of thought.

“C’mon.”

You start to make your way over in a half jog when the clear sounds of screaming are heard and echoing. Nancy breaks into a run, leading all four of you as you run to what you had hoped was Steve.

Chapter Seven: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab

You, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie arrive to a scene of Steve lying on the ground and attempting to fight off five demo-bats all at once. While one choked him, the others attempted to make a delicious snack out of him. Nancy goes right in, locating an oar by a nearby skeleton of a boat and swings for one of the bats biting from his chest.

“Hey there.” She grunts and follows it up with another swing against the one on the other side of his chest.

Robin stomps onto the bat, meanwhile Nancy swings at it repeatedly at his face to kill it.

You look around for more bats anxiously and you get surprised by a thunk right behind you. You look over to see Eddie, and you realize there was one coming for you. “Thanks.”

“Welcome, now watch out!” His pupils dilate as he looks right behind you, and you move out of the way as Eddie hits this one with such force it breaks his oar. “Shit!”

You turn around to face one on coming directly to you, and your years of missed baseballs all seemed to come down to this. You focus on the trajectory and swing your oar at it. “Shit.” You call out when it works. The bat comes back to you, and you hit it again downward, causing the bat to splat onto the ground.

Nancy and Robin continue to fight the bat still choking Steve, as it showed no sign of letting go yet. “Come on, please!” Robin begs to no one.

“Nancy, behind you! Watch out!” You call to her, watching a bat aim specifically for her.

Nance lurches forward as the bat lands on her back. “Robin, get it off me!”

As another bat flies by, Eddie calls out that he has it, breaking the last of his oar.

Steve’s bat finally let’s go after he bites it, causing it to attempt to fly away. Steve yanks it back to him, slamming it onto the ground repeatedly.

Meanwhile Robin gets the bat finally off Nancy’s back and slams the bat down to the ground as well. She holds it as Nancy lurches her oar into the bat’s face and tells it to go to hell.

Eddie calls out to the bat coming to him, egging it on. “Come on, you flying son of a bitch!” When it flies to make a large circle Eddie calls back out, “I said come on! Let’s go!”

Before the bat even reaches him, you swing at it, breaking your own oar in the process and the bat spins like a frisbee over the boat skeleton.

You share a moment with him, both out of breath until you pay your attention to Steve who was still manhandling the bat. He gives one last swing with it into the ground, killing it for sure but just for good measure he steps on it to rip it in half. Wasn’t necessary, but to Steve, that was personal.

He spits out the blood in his mouth, panting as he glances around him. “Steve!” Nancy calls out to him.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie exclaimed. “Jesus H. Christ!” He yelled even louder, almost a tantrum.

Hmm. Your boyfriend sure didn’t deal with stress very quietly. “Hey.” You reach out to him, grabbing his hand to pull it to you. “I know. It’s a lot.” Eddie lets his forehead rest onto yours clumsily. “We’ll get through this.”

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks, assessing the damage gasping when she saw the wounds.

“Well, they took about a pound of flesh.” Steve starts, looking down at his chest. “But other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin was crouched on the ground, assessing one of the corpses.

Eddie had his arm around your shoulder, you tucked into his chest. It’s been so goddamn long since you were like this, it hurt.

It was four days, but it was a long ass four days.

“Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin asks half heartedly.

“What?” Steve asks, making sure he and everyone around heard right.

“It’s just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear. And I think we should get you to a doctor soon because once symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.” She rambles on and Eddie kisses and mutters into your hair, “Jesus Christ.”

None of you are given a chance to even ponder on that thought as a group of demo-bats steal the spotlight, screeching as they got louder. You all crowd together in anticipation to fight them, but they weren’t coming to fight. They flew right to where the gate was, all hissing at your direction. “All right. There’s not that many.” Steve anticipates as he preps himself and the rest up, facing the increasingly agitated bats. “We can take ‘em.” He huffs, “Right?”

In the distance, the sound that you all just collectively heard is amplified by a thousand, and a swarm of bats catch your eye, all flying around in the shape of a deadly tornado.

“You were saying?” Nancy asks, and the hand Eddie is holding tightens around yours as his others goes up to his hair in stress.

Nancy turns away, examining for any other solution. “The woods. Come on!”

She breaks out into a run, and your reaction times all flitter one by one as you follow behind her.

“Great. More running.” Robin huffs as she starts.

The five of you make a head start in the woods to take cover, no idea of where you were headed but grateful for the cover, nonetheless.

Back at the Wheeler’s house Officer Callahan and Sherriff Powell had brought Max, Lucas, and Dustin in their cruiser and the three were sitting on the couch all racking their brains on how they were going to get themselves out of this one.

While your mom was anxious that she didn’t know where you were, she was glad you weren’t found by them. Something in her gut told her that it was good. She wasn’t sure how much she trusted that feeling quite yet. Not that she shared that with any of the other parents.

“What exactly were all doing at the lake?” Officer Powell asks them, his hands on his hips in a power stance.

The kids sitting on the couch’s mouths all opened, none of them sure what to say, what their lie would be.

“Uh...its comp—” Dustin starts.

“We were… We were just going for a walk.” Max interrupts him.

“A walk?” Callahan asks, not believing it at all. “At 9:00 pm?”

“To the lake.” Dustin squeaks out, a voice crack drifting through the sentence. Callahan gives an incredulous look and Dustin avoids it. “We were gonna take a little swim.” Beside him, Max and Lucas look elsewhere, taking interest in random corners of the Wheelers’ living room. “Little night swim.”

“Dusty.” Mrs. Henderson peeps out, her voice desperate. “Someone was just murdered there.”

“Yeah, we… we didn’t realize that until we got there.” It was a dumb lie, but it was by far the only thing he could come up with that wasn’t totally over the top.

“That’s why we didn’t swim.” Lucas adds.

“And Nancy, was she with you at this night swim?” Karen asks, still confused about where her daughter was in all this.

“No.” Max denies.

“Yes.” Dustin says at the same time, choking on his words when he realized what happened, ignoring Max’s glare.

“We’re not sure.” Lucas offers.

“She was there. Then she left.” Karen huffs, having no more answers. “It’s all a little confusing.” Dustin whispers, hoping on some level, the adults were buying their bullshit.

“That’s when you guys came.” Lucas adds, tying what they were doing to when the police came.

“Right. Then they dared me to say what I said.” Max explains.

“Oh, yeah.” Lucas laughs.

“About the killer.”

Dustin and Lucas turn to one another, laughing too hard about this ‘dare’.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.” Ted comments.

“Have you had any contact with Eddie?” Powell asks them, turning it back on track.

“That psycho…freak killer?” Dustin asks without any true bite in his voice. Your mom winced, and she knew Dustin was covering his tracks, but it was hard to hear. “God, no.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Max adds.

“No. We haven’t heard from him.” Lucas says at the same time. “Barely know him.”

“Who?” Dust asks, taking a step too far.

Erica was done at this point. “Oh, that’s a bunch of bull.” Her voice is loud and effective in getting their attention.

“Erica!” Lucas and Erica’s parents chastise her at the same time.

“I mean, you realize they’re lying. The whole couch is on fire.”

“Erica.” They warn her again.

“Just the facts.”

“Are you lying to these policemen, Dusty?” His mom asks, and your mom is astounded how little she knew.

“No!” Dustin objects, his voice screeching and high pitched.

“Lying to the cops is a crime, son.” Lucas’ dad says directly to him.

“I’m not lying.” Lucas insists.

“The fire is consuming us.” Dustin glares at Erica to cut it out.

“We also seem to be having a hard time getting a hold of Miss. L/N. Was she there with you?”

Your mom’s breath hitches as she watches them hesitate again.

“Sh-she left with Nancy.” Max stutters out, and Dustin and Lucas nod along side them. It wasn’t a lie, technically.

“Threaten them with a little jail time. Maybe that’ll loosen their lips.” Ted comments, mostly annoyed at how long it had taken just get a word that made sense out of the kids.

“Okay—” Dustin starts.

“You wanna send our kids to jail?” Lucas’ mom interrupts him.

“We need to take this seriously.” Ted maintains his stance.

“He didn’t mean it like that.” Karen says at the same time, cancelled out by what Ted says.

The crowd breaks out into arguing, everyone talking at once. No one seems to make any sense of what anyone has to say to one another.

“Shut up.” Powell attempts to call out, no one hearing him. He takes a deep breath in, preparing to project his voice. “Shut up!” It works, all voices fading down reluctantly. “We’re gonna try a more civilized approach. One at a time.” He points to Max. “You first.”

Max tenses up. “Wait, what? Why me?”

“Follow me.” He responds, ignoring her.

“I’m not even in the Hellfire club.” She argues further.

“Do I need to cuff you?” Callahan threatens, and it was completely unnecessary. Max sighs, realizing she didn’t have any other choice. “Chop-chop! Let’s go.”

Max passes Callahan on the way to the makeshift interrogation room, and Callahan gives Dustin and Lucas a signal that ‘they’re next’.

Lucas and Dustin sit silently on the couch, anxiety bubbled up in their stomachs, unable to do much more.

It wasn’t long that taking cover in the forest was deemed ineffective as demo-bats started to swarm over, seemingly seeking out the five of you. The desperation for shelter came to a head when Steve pointed out Skull Rock. As you hunched under the rock, it was hard to stop the fear from growing. Steve being yanked into the abyss was scary. Being surrounded by monsters was a terror you had forgotten existed.

For good reason.

Finally, the bats seem to thin out, Robin takes the first step out of the rock. “Oh…okay. That was close.”

“Yeah.” Steve agrees.

“Too close.” Eddie remarks.

Your arms are across your chest, as if would somehow make you more secure. Eddie leans down to you. “You… you ok?”

You nodded. “You?” He nods back, and there’s nothing else to say.

“Oh, sh… shit.” You hear, turning to face Steve falling against the one of the rocks.

“Steve?” Nancy calls, seeing him fading out.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Steve insists to her, despite the clear evidence he wasn’t.

“No, no, no. You’re not. You’re losing blood.” Nancy insists, as again, clear evidence he wasn’t okay. “Come on, sit. All right?”

Steve reluctantly sits down, grunting in pain as his ass lands harshly on the hard ground. He holds the wound at his pant line, realizing how much in pain he truly was. “All right.” Nancy said, assessing her options in treatment.

As Eddie, Robin, and you look on in concern as the reality seems to set in of how injured Steve was. Nancy asks fast, ripping the excess of her undershirt off to make a decent gauze.

Concerned for her best friend, Robin kneels next to Nancy.

You hang back with Eddie, watching the scene unfold.

“So, the good news is I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies. But if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know.”

“Robin” He stops her.

“Yeah”

“I kinda wanna punch you.”

She laughs, a little relief in her voice. “Sense of humor’s still intact. That’s a good sign.”

Nancy finishes ripping off the excess of her shirt, Robin gives them the room as Nancy moves in to dress it.

Eddie turns his face away from it, watching medical ‘procedures’ tended to make him squirmy, turning you away from it as well. Robin catches up to the two of you, and as Nancy wraps him up awkward small talk ensues.

(Unfortunately, you miss one of the most erotic scenes of someone getting their wounds dressed in all of history of man kind but its ok you never found out.)

A pinch appears between Eddie’s eyebrows, and you barely have a minute to consider the expression before he’s excusing himself. “What are—” you start to ask him, but his crouched position on the broken-down tree answers for him.

He crawls on all fours up the log, timidly standing as he reaches the apex of the arch. “So, uh, this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much.” Nancy answers him, allowing Steve to use her as a crutch.

Eddie nods, he assumed he was right, but the confirmation made it all the bleaker. He starts to make his way back down the tree, his step staggered when Nancy interrupts him. “Wait, watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind.”

You didn’t even realize he was crawling onto vines as he made his way up. Was he not avoiding the vines? Fuck.

Eddie remains paused. “It’s all a what...?” he asks timidly.

“All the creepy crawlies around here. They’re, like, one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve answers, and you couldn’t have put it any better than that.

“Shit.” Eddie hesitantly makes his way down the tree again, comically side stepping one foot in front of the other.

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.

“As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.”

“Does the Hawkins PD even have grenades?” You ask, and Steve shakes his head.

“Grenades, no. Probably a lot of guns, though.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom.”

Eddie plops off the tree next to you. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?” Eddie asks, his voice seeped in doubt.

Not that you blamed him. You nodded to him nonchalantly, confirming.

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin jokes.

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver.” Nancy answers.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve comments.

Eddie rolls his eyes, taking his vest off.

“Well, you almost deserved it.”

As they linger too long, you nod towards them pointedly at Robin, and she shrugs.

Thwap.

“For your modesty, dude.” Eddie deadpans.

Steve clutches onto the vest Eddie threw at him, half glaring at Eddie for hitting him so hard with it.

Steve isn’t given long to think about it, the ground shaking beneath your feet as effective as an earthquake.

The ground stumbles you off your feet, your hip hitting the ground harshly as the other two are effectively grouped into two. You crawl to the nearest two, your arms buckling as you barely make the embrace of whoever’s nearest.

Turned out to be Robin, awkwardly lying against Eddie.

It’s over as quickly as it started.

None of you are given a chance to catch your breath, a looming sound coming off from the distance reminding you that you needed to get out as fast as you could.

“So, guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie concludes.

“Yeah, me too.” Robin nods.

Robin crawls to her feet, working her way around you and you find your back against Eddie as you fall back into him. Eddie allows it, using a hand to rub his leg as it hit one of the vines when he fell.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Steve asks and starts back down the trees. As he passes you scramble to your feet to follow behind them.

One disadvantage of navigating the Upside Down that even though it is the very same town you were born and raised in, it still felt labyrinthian at times. Not as many landmarks are present, resulting on far too many rerouting.

You walk hand in hand with him, your brain attempting to trick itself into thinking that things might be normal again.

“I think we deserve an extra spring break.” You mutter under your breath, the memory of your mutual plans now a hazy memory. It was supposed to be the final break where you could just be 18, lying in your boyfriend’s bed for days at a time, ignoring responsibility.

“It’s not all bad.” He tells you.

You stop walking, the scrunch in your forehead signalling your doubt.

“Ok its pretty bad.” He admits, his thumb caressing your own. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I just went to the police.”

“And?”

He chuckles humourlessly. “If I was in custody when what’s-his-name—”

“Fred”

“Fred got…Vecna’d. I would’ve had an alibi for them both. But with D&D being a-a target like it has been, I don’t think I would’ve been let go regardless.”

You gulp, your heart beating in your throat. “You think they would’ve found a way to pin it on you?”

“Yeah. I do. I just have this feeling.” His other hand finds its way to his stomach, his fingers fanned out. “I joke about it, but 60 Minutes had a documentary about it, and since then it’s just gotten worse.” He stumbles over a vine, his lanky limbs too long for himself. “I used to get a glare on the occasion but now my mere presence at the arcade is just a spectacle.”

“You think you would’ve been the scapegoat.”

He nods, confirming with enough conviction to worry you.

“I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“Wait, what?” He asks you, his eyebrows raised.

“If they had the nerve to attempt to blame you when I knew you were innocent, I would’ve fought it tooth and nail until they let you go.”

“And if that didn’t work?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Prison break.”

He stops, framing your face into a kiss in which his tongue evades your mouth, and you forget where the hell are for half a second.

“Lovebirds!” Robin calls to you.

You separate, as if both electrocuted by her interruption.

“Not the place!”

Eddie steps back into place with you, your hands brushing delicately, sending shivers down your spine.

Not the place.

“It just means a lot to me that you answered that so damn fast.”

Your cheeks heat up, and he staggers across a mess of vines. You take the off chance to catch up to the murmuring of Nancy and Robin, ignoring the smug looks they’re both giving you.

“Couldn’t we have tried a road, or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin asks, peering up at the silhouettes of the creepy trees.

“I think we’re getting close. We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.” Nancy comforts her, and you find yourself comforted by it as well.

Having ran ahead, Steve takes the opening he waited for. “Eddie.” Eddie turns to him expectantly. “Eddie. Hey, man. Uh… Listen, I just, uh… I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there.”

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. “Shit. You saved your own ass, man. I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?” Steve asks, unfamiliar with the world of heavy metal.

“When you took a bite out of that bat.” Steve doesn’t answer. “Ozzy Osborne? Black Sabbath?”

Crickets.

“He bit a bat’s head off onstage.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s very metal, what you did. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Thanks.”

“Henderson told me you were a badass. Insisted on the matter in fact.”

So did you, and there was only one night where he genuinely believed you. Granted he was too drunk to remember.

“Henderson said that?” Steve asks, flattered.

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea. It’s kinda annoying, to be honest. I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh, guess I got a little jealous, Steve.”

For the first time Eddie makes eye contact with Steve as he considered what the metalhead was telling him. Dustin Henderson was worshipping him behind closed doors. Huh.

“I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually” he inhales, swallowing his pride, “a good dude. Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche?” Eddie chuckles. “No way, man. No way. That, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

There’s a pause, Eddie comes slightly too close to Steve’s face, breathing in his face. “Still super jealous as hell, by the way.” A laugh erupts out of Steve. “Which is why I would have never jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any, uh… normal circumstances.”

A branch snaps.

Eerie howling can be heard in the distance.

The two of them stop in their tracks, staring off on edge of their surroundings.

“Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

“Give yourself a break, man.” Steve interrupts, patting his chest with the back of his hand.

“See? The only reason I came here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you.” Eddie tells him, pointing at your back side as you, Nancy, and Robin continue trudging your way through the freaky forest. “Now, I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. My girlfriend jumping in as if there were no other options just rattled me.” Eddie pauses, pointing specifically to Nance. “But Wheeler right there she didn’t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in. Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve considers what Eddie had to say, pausing. Steve’s eyes assess Eddie, glancing at Eddie’s two-day old stubble. He ignores the pull to Eddie’s lips, lingering far too long at them.

Wasn’t…Eddie…just steering him to Nancy?

He switches his glance back to her.

The ground doesn’t give Steve any chances to lull on any of what just happened, a rumble erupting. The ground becomes shaky again, feeling yourself unable to walk in a straight line.

“Here we go again.” Eddie bites out, his teeth gritted.

“Second on my list of favourite things, earthquakes.” Robin yells out, and you’re left wondering how she’s able to talk. “Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

Nancy leans up against a tree, staring dead ahead, determined. She doesn’t hesitate.

She runs.

“Nancy, wha--!”

“Where are you going?” Robin calls after her. “Nancy!”

“Robin, come on!” You tell her, tugging her hand.

Before you knew it, you had all caught up to where she was standing, staring ominously at her house standing tall in a field of debris.

The five of you stare off at it, the sound of five of you catching your breath overwhelmingly loud, yet your ears remind you of the echo of thunder. Oh, God why so much sound?

“Come on.” Nancy urges, charging forward into the skeleton of her own home. You follow her, and the closer to the house you got, the louder the thunder seemed to get.

As you trekked forward, Dustin sat in the toilet of the Wheeler’s house attempting to use the left behind walkie to get a hold of the five of you. “Steve, do you copy? Nancy, Robin? This is Dustin. Where are you? We’ve been collared by the law, I repeat, we’ve been collared by the law. Do you copy?” At the radio silence, Dustin realizes how fucking hopeless it was. “Shit!”

He flushes the toilet, bursting out of the bathroom, past the parents crowded around Powell requesting if they needed lawyers. Karen is stood beside your mom, comforting her as she has started to worry about you. If Karen knew your mom hadn’t seen you in a few days she would’ve sent you home.

He nearly bumps into Holly holding onto her Lite Brite, walking it away from the commotion in the living room. He shelves the walkie, looking to Lucas’ expectant face.

“Anything?” He asks him.

“Nothing.”

They pause, a thought occurring to them at the same moment.

“You don’t think they went through…”

“Through Watergate?” Dustin asks, incredulous. “Without us? Without a plan? Without weapons?” He scoffs. “They wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“They must just be laying low ‘cause the law got us.”

“’The law?’” Erica repeats, walking into the kitchen with a juice box in hand. “What is this, Gunsmoke? The Stupid and the Ugly? Should I round up the posse? Saddle the horses?”

Lucas glares at her, not in the mood for what shenanigans Erica usually has to offer. “Erica. Please, just go away.”

“Here’s the deal. Either you tell me what’s happening, or I tell Dustin what I found under your bed.”

Lucas perks up, slightly terrified. Dustin turns to him, intrigued.

“Please, no.”

“Spill your guts, cowpuncher.”

“What’d she find?” Dustin asks, leaning onto his elbow.

“Nothing.” He claims, switching his glance between the two of them.

“Is it gross?” Dustin asks her. Erica nods. “Scale of one to ten.”

“A hundred.” Erica answers, not skipping a beat.

“A hundred?” Dustin asks, turning back to face Lucas.

Lucas gives up. “The serial killer is a dark wizard from the Upside Down. And we’ve been looking for him, but he’s in the Upside Down, which we can’t reach. At least we thought we couldn’t, until we found a gate at Lover’s Lake. That was reason we were there, but those stupid cops grabbed us.” He’s starting to get loud, as Dustin mentions for him to lower his voice. “And if you tell anyone about this, that’s including Mom, and Dad, and Tina…”

Erica continues slurping her juice, unbothered.

Lucas shakes his head, getting Erica to understand the seriousness of it. “…Especially Tina, I…will smother you…in your sleep. Do you understand?”

“Hmm…” Erica leans on one hand, pretending to think about it.

“Erica?” He leans forward on his elbows to her. “Do. You. Copy?”

Erica pushes off her elbows. “The smothering in my sleep part, but not much else. Why would they open a gate at Lover’s Lake?” She asks mostly to Dustin.

“What?” Lucas asks.

“The commies.”

“The commies didn’t do it—”

“Then who did?”

“Nobody.”

“So, it just opened up for fun?”

“Erica, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, she doesn’t, yet she raises an essential question.” Dustin interjects, noting Erica’s surprisingly good point. “How did Watergate open up? Only two gates have opened, so as far as we know. One by El, one by the commies. But it’s not the commies or El this time, so it…” He drifts off, something clicking. “Holy shit. Wait, wait, wait, wait.”

“’Wait, wait, wait,’ what?” Lucas asks him, wondering what the hell was going on in his brain.

“There’s one thing we’ve never understood.” Dustin starts pacing around the kitchen. “Which is why Vecna’s killing people. What’s his motive? Killing teens? It always just seemed too random. Too prosaic. On top of that, how does the Mind Flayer figure into all this? Maybe this is it. This is the answer.”

“What is the answer?” Lucas asks, completely missing the point.

“Are you sure you just want water?” Karen asks one of the police officers, making her way to the fridge. “We have Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper.”

They signal one another they need to get out of the kitchen to avoid eavesdropping, following Dustin into the hall by the dinging room. “Okay, just hear me out. How did El open the Mothergate?”

“She contacted the Demogorgon.”

“With psychic contact. Just like…”

“Vecna when he casts his spells.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what if, with each kill, he’s not simply killing them, he’s making a powerful psychic connection with his victims? A connection powerful enough to rip a hole in the fabric of time and space.”

“He’s opening up more gates.”

“Bingo.”

A few steps come from the living room. “Copy. We’re still at the Wheeler House.”

Damn cops. They turn the corner to where the basement goes down.

“Why would he be opening gates?” Dustin asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

“To take over the world.” Lucas answers.

“Who do we know that wants to take over the world?” Dustin leads him.

“The Mind Flayer.”

“So if the Demogorgon was just his foot soldier, Vecna’s his five-star general. A five-star general with the power to open gates.”

“Holy shit.” Lucas curses, his mind blown.

“Holy shit!” Dustin answers in agreement.

“Holy shit.” Erica speaks up for the first time in a minute. “That was incomprehensible. You lost me at ‘Mothergate’. Please be kind. Rewind.”

“Ok, so remember the gate?” Dustin starts to explain to her, patient as his newfound breakthrough would allow him to be.

“Oh, no. I blocked that out.” Erica quips.

As Dustin answers, you’re catching your breath as you finally reach the door to the Wheelers.

The lights flare up as you pass by, a detail missed by Dustin, Lucas, and Erica.

Nancy bursts through the door, looking around a version of her own home she barely recognizes. You look around the house, the vines decorating the walls. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin deadpans.

Nancy dampens whatever emotional reaction she was feeling, gritting her teeth. “Come on. I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” She starts her way up the stairs, Robin, you, and Eddie following closely behind.

Nancy goes straight to her closet, bursting through for the shoebox in the top left-hand side.

As she brings the box to open it up, you glance around, and something felt off to you about the room.

She opens the box to find tissue paper and a pair of heels.

“Those aren’t guns.” Eddie comments.

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for something along the lines of a deadly projectile.” Robin adds, and Nancy ignores them, trying to figure out where the hell her guns were.

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you left them somewhere else.” Eddie offers a solution, granted a weak one.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns.” She answers, defensive. “Also, I threw these away years ago.”

Nancy ends up doing a double take to some homework she doesn’t remember placing on her dresser.

“Uh Nancy?” You ask her, glancing her around the room. “Didn’t you get this wallpaper replaced a while ago?”

“Y-yeah, I did, actually.” She says, scanning the notes.

“I get that grades are important, but perhaps studying can wait till we get out?”

“She’s right.” Nancy says softly. She looks up to her wall. “I got this wallpaper replaced years ago.” She holds her flashcards up. “These notes are from sophomore chemistry. As Nancy gets more of a look around her room, she finds herself in a personal time warp. “This mirror was sold in a yard sale years ago. And you.” She rushes forward to where a stuffed bunny sits perched. “you’re not supposed to be here. No, I gave you to Cousin Joanna two years ago.”

Nancy pauses, and Eddie glances to you, nodding at Nancy in concern. You gesture toward her. When Nancy acted off or manic it usually ended in results.

She sits there, staring blankly at her diary. “What is it?” Eddie asks, and you can hear the vague annoyance in his voice.

“Nancy? You’re freaking me out.” Robin asks her.

“I think the reason that my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.”

“They don’t… exist?”

“Nancy, what’s going on—” you ask, walking up behind her. “Uh Nancy, why are you reading that specific date, also didn’t you al--”

“I did.” She interrupts you, walking back to Robin and Eddie. “This diary should be filled with entries. It’s not. The last entry is November 6—”

“1983.” You finish with her. “The day Will went missing.”

“The day the gate opened. We’re in the past.”

The four of you glance at one another, the looming idea odd.

“Dustin! Dustin!” Steve’s voice erupts from the downstairs.

Robin jumps into action, running down to see what the commotion was about as Steve repeats it, turning his flashlight around.

“Dust- Hello! Hello!” He calls, turning in circles with his voice a register higher than normal.

As you all watch in concern, Robin leans in. “Maybe he really does have rabies.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy asks him, a bit of a bite in her voice.

“Hello!” Steve calls out one last time, flashing the light right into your eyes. You hold a hand to shield them, a collective choice.

“He’s here. Henderson.” Steve claims, out of breath with a smile plastered on his face. “That little shit, he’s here. He’s like… He’s in the walls or something. Just listen. Dustin.” Steve starts screaming again, despite the bewildered looks he’s receiving from four people. “Dustin! Dustin!”

Just when Steve seems to be going legitimately crazy, Dustin’s voice comes from seemingly nowhere, loud and clear. “That brings us to the question you first raised.”

Shit.

“Dustin!” The four of you join him, looking around the area you could hear him most, the dining room.

Eddie flips up one of the curtains, “Dustin?”

“Good spot, there, Ed.” You comment.

“Shut up.”

“Dustin?”

“All right, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve concludes, finally giving up after searching for an unfortunately long time.

“Will found a way.” Nancy mutters.

“What?”

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights.” Nancy scurries to the lamp on an accent table by the stairs.

“Lights?”

“Yeah.” Nancy attempts to turn on one of the lights manually, but to no avail.

“The switch, try the switch.” Steve says, pointing to it.

“Okay.” Nancy moves it do it, still unsuccessful. “It’s not working.”

“Hey. Guys? You seeing this?” Steve asks, his flashlight aimed at the large overhead light, a particular ambiance eroding from it.

As you peer around the corner next to Robin and Eddie, you catch a glimpse of Nancy with her hand raised by the lights, the mere proximity causing it to flare.

“Whoa.” Eddie murmurs a smile reaching his lips as you gather around the light.

As you reach the light Steve’s hand is raised in the light, rotating, his fingers experimenting with the feel. You follow as Robin and Eddie reach out, hesitant yourself into the feeling it would provide. As you reached out standing between Nancy and Ed, your fingertip reaches the light and it’s nothing like you expected.

You feel a sense of energy in your hand, it’s almost as if you sat on it for too long, but it tickles rather than hurt. The heat wasn’t too much to bear, just like touching a light bulb that was on.

It was cool, you played with it, watching as your hand moved the light particles around.

“It…tickles.” Steve comments.

A laugh is stifled in your throat, in agreement.

“It kinda feels good.” Robin says, Eddie chuckling at it.

Somehow, tickles and good both felt like understatements.

“Does anyone know Morse code?” Nancy asks.

“No.” You all answer her.

“Wait, does SOS count?” Eddie asks, his voice giving no hint of humour. You, Robin, and Nancy all deadpan to him. “Is that good?” He asks, unsure what the looks he was receiving were about.

“What?” He asks you, giving you a smile that you don’t think you’ve seen on his face since before this shitshow.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” You smile up at him, grinning when he looks at you confused. “Yes, Ed. SOS works.”

“Shit, say that, then.”

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

Eddie puts his fingers in, using his four fingers rapidly, against the light in three motions. S. O. S.

On the otherside Dustin continues to pace the dining room, asking some big questions, Erica barely paying any attention since the lights started noticeably flaring. “You said you followed Vecna through lights, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I think he’s here.” Erica is on edge, of course, thinking she’s only a dimension away from being in the same room as a mass murderer.

Dustin and Lucas make their way next to Erica, watching the lights flicker.

Finally, the voices on the other side fade out, signalling they were paying attention. “It’s working.” Robin comments, a hint of rare conviction in her voice.

Dustin creeps up to the light, finally witnessing the pattern. Dot dot dot. “S.” Dash dash dah. “O.” Dot dot dot. “S. Hey, uh, remember when I said they wouldn’t be stupid enough to through Watergate?”

“Yeah?” Lucas asks, apprehensive about what he was about to say.

“I overestimated them.”

Holly Wheeler lies down on her dining room floor, ignoring the sounds of the parents in the other room discussing what they must think is quietly, but she could hear every word.

She didn’t quite understand what it all meant, she just knew her sister and her brother’s friends were in deep shit. As suggested by her mom, she grabbed her Lite Brite to keep her company, but she wasn’t even allowed to go up to her room. She had to stay downstairs. That was dumb but her dad didn’t give her much of an option to argue against it either way.

In the middle of a bunny, footsteps passed her which she didn’t pay any attention to until her Lite Brite lost power. “Hey!” She protested.

Behind her Dustin runs to collect the brite lite, rushing out a sorry to Holly’s confused little face. Lucas repeats it, collecting the multicolored beads sitting in the Tupperware containers, dashing right behind Lucas.

Before Holly has any chance to even process what just happened Erica quickly kneels before her, giving her a pack of Skittles, saying, “For your understanding.” Well, a bribe is a bribe.

What, they couldn’t find something bigger?

Dustin bursts through the door of Nancy’s room, maneuvering the many wires cascading over such a small toy.

All gathered around Nancy’s bed seemingly three years ago in an alternate dimension you’re waiting around the Lite Brite as Dustin, Erica and Lucas all scramble to place the tiny little beads onto the board, camouflaging the bunny Holly had been working so hard on. It was a slow and painful process to wait for, Eddie gritting his teeth impatiently while Steve hurried them. “Come on, come on.”

As the final colored bead was placed, Dustin urging “Okay that’s it. Go, go, go.”

Lucas confirms, snatching the socket and lurching on the floor to where the wall socket lived, lighting up the brite lite.

“Okay you guys—”

“..seeing this?”

The space on the bed suddenly lights up with the same orange particles that had surrounded the overhead lights earlier. Nancy reaches in, creating the familiar shimmer affect as before. As she does a cackle of laughter echoing from Dustin as confirmation that it worked.

As Nancy’s hand floats around, you find yourself hypnotized by the dazzling shimmers around her fingers, your eyes glazing over. You catch a glimpse of Eddie and Steve sharing a look of holy shit behind Nance, you stick your tongue out at Steve when Eddie leans back forward.

Dustin’s voice echo’s, “We’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.” The orange sparkles disappear as soon as the light is unplugged. “Okay, try it now.”

The five of you wait on edge as Nancy hesitates to reach out again. Eddie’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his other hand landing on his head, his fingers fidgeting.

If this didn’t work, you weren’t sure what other options you had.

Nancy reaches in, spelling out Hi as a test run. It feels eerily silent, waiting for the confirmation.

“That worked!”

The celebration is unanimous, the relief overwhelming to a tee.

Eddie is particularly satisfied, yelling out ‘yeses’ in his joy in between gritted teeth. “Hi!” He shouts in excitement to, no one in particular.

Robin lets out a full giggle.

Your nails end up digging into the heel of your hand, the hint of pain signalling just how tense you were in your own excitement.

Nancy thinks fast, leaning back into writing once again. STU…CK

“Oh ok, they’re stuck.”

“Yes.”

“We are.”

You nod rapidly.

“They’re stuck in the Upside Down.”

“Uh, you can’t get back through Watergate?”

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Steve asks.

“Oh, cause it’s in water, and it’s a gate.” Robin concludes.

“Oh, right.”

“That’s cute.” Eddie comments.

“Precious even.” You add.

“Um, no. It’s…” Nancy leans in again. GUAR…DED

It was humouring, to say the least to hear Dustin sound out the first syllable of it without realizing the rest.

“Okay. Uh, Watergate’s guarded.”

“Perfect. Yes. Yes. Yes.” Steve chants.

You hop on your two knees, a mini dance party in-between Eddie and Robin, celebrating with you.

“We think we have a theory that can help with that.” Dustin starts.

“Yes.”

“Genius child.” Robin whispers, and you had to admit, without his genius you wouldn’t be nearly as lucky as you have been.

“We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. That there’s a gate at every murder site.”

Confusion, all around. Wind through your ears. “Does anybody understand what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks, making sure you were all on the same page.

“No”

“No idea.”

“You heard words?” You ask, clueless.

Nancy leans in, drawing a large question mark.

“Okay. Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?” Dustin’s voice barks back.

You blink, Dustin temporarily stunning you.

“Jesus Christ, this kid’s got to get his ego in check.” Steve remarks, his face scrunched up.

“It’s his tone. Right?” Eddie perks up, peering around Nancy to agree with him.

“I know.”

“I keep telling him.” You mutter. Eddie wraps his arm around you, his thumb caressing your shoulder.

“Okay. So…So how far is your trailer?” Nancy asks to Eddie.

“Seven miles.” Eddie answers.

“You just know that?” You whisper, Eddie shrugs casually.

“Nancy?” Robin asks, peering around you and Eddie. “Uh, I know your house here is like, weirdly, creepily, frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?”

Eddie turns back for her reply, a question he genuinely didn’t know the answer to.

You did, and so did Steve. “Robin, you genius.”

Nancy takes a few tries to communicate the idea formed in her head, it takes the words ED…DIE, TRA…ILER, Dustin immediately understands from the sound of it.

“H-how are we going to get there?”

Nancy was already writing BIK…ES by the end of his sentence. “Oh… that’s-that’s not bad.”

The sound of thumps down the stairs invades the deafening silence of the Wheeler’s house, Steve holding the door as he ushers you all outside.

The garage is opened abruptly, Steve resting one hand on the elevated garage door as his flashlight cascades over the bikes. “Hey, we uh, we only got 4 bikes.” He observes, looking over his shoulder.

“Well then, two are going to have to partner up. We don’t have time for this.” Nancy huffs, already marching towards one.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Eddie says, grabbing your hand to one of them.

“Use Mike’s, El used to ride on the pegs.” Nancy passes you, already walking a bike to the beginning of her driveway.

He does, you half jog to the end as Robin and Steve get themselves situated.

On the other side, Max is let go from the makeshift interrogation room, immediately ushered away by Dustin as Powell mistakenly distracts the parents.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find those girls.” Powell explains, emphasizing with the worried bunch.

“One of these little brats is gonna squeal. I just know it.” Callahan claims, assuring the parents with much less sympathy. “Where are they?”

“Upstairs.” The officer ‘observing’ them said. “Moping.”

Callahan sighs and turns to run up the stairs. “Oh, little pigs.” He calls out mockingly when he reaches the top. “Oh, little pigs.” He taps the door rapidly to tease them. “Let Officer Callahan in.” When he pushes his way through the door in attempt to scare them, the sight of an empty room with an open window greets him.

By the time Callahan peers through, he sees the kids on their bikes already starting to ride. “Hey! Excuse me! No, get back here!”

“I guess it’s just a minor misdemeanor.” Erica mutters, stabbing one of the wheels to the cop car.

Callahan continues to call out, it grabs the attention of parents as they start to understand what was happening. They run out to the front lawn but most of them are panting through each stride.

You sit yourself onto the back of the bike, ignoring your boyfriend’s smirk over his shoulder as he starts riding.

The wind hits your face as Eddie gets his momentum, your hand clutching onto his shoulder.

The parents stare after their kids making their getaway, worry stricken in their faces as they all wonder what they were up to at the lake, and why they had to get away.

Your mom had a feeling you had something to do with it, and any little hint of doubt you did had disappeared.

Dustin, Lucas, Erica, and Max rode on the street to get to the trailer park as fast as they could, matching in tandem with you, Eddie, Robin, Steve, and Robin.

Headlights on, wind in your ears, bats in the distance.

Nothing was gonna stop you now.

This was probably the most daunting bike ride of your entire life.

The idea of riding with Eddie lost its novelty at the fourth mile, your back sore from hunching over his back. At one point his hair, flowing wildly in the wind, made its way into your mouth. Normally, it wouldn’t be all that terrible, but it took an unreasonably long time to able spit it back out.

The red lightning didn’t seem as bad, and you almost catch yourself getting used to the distant screeches of the demo-bats.

That was until the haunting image of the Creel House, the place you knew Vecna attacked and resided, came into your peripherals.

Right. Vecna was a real… and was actively killing people.

No. Correction you thought. It was the most daunting bike ride of your entire life.

Nancy and Steve sped up and you squeezed Eddie’s shoulder to indicate to do the same.

Finally, Eddie turned the corner into the trailer park, and you felt a sigh of relief as Eddie’s trailer came into sight. “Right here.” Eddie said, gesturing to his little lot on the side.

Eddie stopped, letting you get off before unceremoniously letting his bike drop.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record. Most miles traveled interdimentionally.” Robin exclaims.

You wonder for a moment how you would get someone to record it.

“Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” Steve coughs, clearing this throat. “It’s stuck in my throat.”

Eddie led the way up the stairs into his trailer, the place unrecognizable. His eyes shoot straight up onto the ceiling, knowing exactly where to look. “Goddamn.” He breathes out. Not that he needed to inform you, the red glowing doing the work for him. It was downright terrifying. “This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie gulps out. “Like, right where she died.”

That is also downright terrifying.

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin observes, and by the shadowy figure exuding squirmy noises she might be right.

You peered in, watching an object slowly move out from the snack sized gate. “What the hell is that?” Steve asks, the exact appropriate amount of bafflement in his voice.

A beat in silence passes before something seems to ‘pop’, startling the five of you to back the fuck off from it.

The object repeatedly smacks its way, a few drips of whatever was on the ceiling falling onto the floor. You glance around you, wondering what the hell anyone was supposed to do.

Steve volunteers, creeping up slowly, to peer up to it. You follow his example, the portal slowly coming into view. “No way.” Steve breathes out, the sight breathtaking.

It comes into view, and it’s somehow the weirdest thing you have ever experienced.

Dustin’s laughter is loud and clear as you see Lucas, Max, him, and Erica all looking up, appearing to be upside down in the way bats are in a cave.

“Hi there.” Dustin waves, glee radiating from him.

“Hi” You all wave back, smiles of relief on your faces as the escape is finally right in front of you.

“Holy shit this is trippy.” Robin comments.

“Holy fuck.” Eddie whispers, his hands resting on his knees. You bump into him endearingly, causing him to hike up and wrap his arms around you tightly. “We’re finally getting the fuck out of here.”

You look back up, watching Dustin’s overzealous jumps. “Bada-bada-boom!”

It took about seven minutes of struggle watching the four of them struggle around and ask Eddie where to find random things in his trailer until the mattress was plopped onto the floor. “Those stains are, uh…” he pauses, looking at his audience and second guessing himself at Robin’s side-eye. “I dunno what those stains are.”

“Mmm.” Robin grunts back to him, thrown off.

You sit next to him, wondering if you had noticed any of the stains before. He leans over to you, “Pretty sure those are from you.” He whispers to you under his breath.

Your face heats up, oh yeah, that was a good one.

“I heard that.” Robin clears her throat, her face now scrunched up half in between disgusted and amused. Well, she knew your stories weren’t exaggerated at least.

Dustin comes into view clutching the tied-up sheets. “Not quite sure how these physics work.” He admitted, winding the makeshift rope to toss it, “but uh, here goes nothing.” The rope is launched out of his hand and lands roughly on the floor in front of you. You glance back up to Dustin, clutching the rope anxiously. “There we go. And if my theory is correct…” He lets go of the rope, and somehow, miraculously, it stays in place.

Seemingly it just, floats in suspension, nothing to yank onto, but working either way.

“Huh. Abracadabra.”

“Holy shit.” Lucas swears.

“All right, pull on it! See if it holds!” Dustin calls.

Robin steps up to it, placing each hand high on the rope and attempts to pull as hard as she can. When it stays in place the tension in the room seems to dissipate all at once. You have a way home.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen some crazy shit.” Erica comments, sounding joyful, almost.

“Guess I’m the guinea pig.” Robin jokes, her hands already in place on the rope. She starts climbing, grunting slowly as she makes her way up.

Nancy holds her hand out for a safety net while they clear the landing pad on the other side. Robin reaches the hole in the ceiling, and once her head crosses the threshold she is yanked by gravity onto the other side, letting out a yelp of surprise.

She sits up the relief on her face clear as daylight. “Oh, thank God. That was fun.” she says, grabbing the closest hand offered to sit up from Eddie’s mattress.

You look back down to face your boyfriend already looking at you. “What?” You ask, startled.

He puts his hand lightly on the small of your back. “Go.” He says, giving you no options.

“But—”

His brows raise, daring you to protest him.

“Ok, then.” This might’ve been the only moment your gym teacher could’ve told you when you would need to use a rope climbing skill in real life to your disgruntled question. You reach forward and pull up to start climbing. It’s a bit more of a struggle than Robin’s but you only needed to get your head through to the other side. As you did, you felt the pull of gravity force you onto the mattress, sucking the air out of your lungs. “Shit.”

You recollect your breath, staring back up at him, a stupid glint in his eye. You don’t have too long of a moment, ripped out of it by Dustin exasperatingly pulling you off the mattress.

“Not your first time there eh.” Robin mutters.

You hit her shoulder, gathering around the mat waiting for the next climber.

You didn’t have to wait long, Eddie’s climb took half the time yours did. You and Robin both eased yourselves into the gravity, while Eddie lurched himself, basically cannonballing himself back into the right dimension.

No one saw it coming, all startled by his rough landing. He sits up instantly, “That, was fun.” He agrees with Robin. “Shit.” He grabs the hand extended to him and is helped up, but he does most of the work.

“That was fun to you?” You ask him, the only fun thing about it is being out from the dust particles.

“Woah. Ok something’s happening. Steve?” Dustin yells out

“Nancy!” You peer into the hole, seeing Steve clutch onto Nancy’s shoulders, calling her name repeatedly. “Stay with me. Nancy! Hey!” He grabs the attention of all of you, wondering what was wrong. “Nancy!”

Max gulps. “Vecna.”

Oh for fucks sake.

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