#then i watched it again in theaters and sobbed again
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Film & TV I Think About A Lot » The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018) dir. Desiree Akhavan
Is part of the reason why you watch those Tandy Campbell videos 'cause she's kind of hot, huh? We shouldn't encourage each other's homosexual attractions.
#Tandy Campbell's not even my type!#i watched this movie on youtube when it first came out - i sobbed#then i watched it again in theaters and sobbed again#i dont know what it is about it its just got an aura#cgedits#mygifs#cftv#Emily M. Danforth#chloe grace moretz#jennifer ehle#melanie ehrlich#film#filmgifs#userfilm#lesbian#wlwedit#usergay#wlwsource#userlgbtq#tvandfilm#90s#queer film#fall
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my ears aren't trained enough to spot em all (except the Obv ones) but these references and callbacks to prev sagas are making me ascend i want to shed my mortal coil and get mixed into the music like a beaten egg
#didnt keep count of how many times i got shivers god i love musical theater#hearing warrior of the mind and legendary leitmotifs in well be fine#telemachus having my most fave songs...mayhaps recency bias#i can remember just subsisting off the draft versions for the last year and now that its here im in disbelief#i mean its deffo good that epic's production process is so well documented jrh is doing what most directors wouldnt be able to do#(side eyes dave malloy's moby dick)#(wdym the musical was too fucking long mr. malloy please i beg give me life-changing thought-provoking lyrics about the human condition pls#tbh ive had delulus of going to japan or korea to watch waitress or hadestown#like i wont understand the dialogue but i knew those songs by heart dammit#OUGH im remembering when korea was gonna put on a production of the great comet (sobbing crying weeping)#3am!dio back at it again with the thoughts#dellet-asides
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The universe was large all right, but no larger, it appeared, than the whole wide world ahead of me
Anthony Bourdain, A Cook's Tour
#anthony bourdain#a cooks tour#words#quotes#daily quotes#quote#quotations#travel#travel poetry#kitchen confidential#no reservations#everyday I wake up and miss tony#girls who sobbed in the theater while watching his docuentary#also i totally didnt cut out a photo of him#from this book and put it on the wall by my bed#that would be weird#also reading this book and having traveled#to a lot of the same places as a kid#this book has made me cry so much#and want to travel again SO BAD
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no because the fact that andrew garfield didn't win an oscar for tick, tick.... BOOM is my villain origin story
#i watched it again last night and started crying after two minutes#literally full on sobbing by the end#it's just so good????#they're all so good#and the fact that there are so many broadway and musical actors in it even just in the background makes me so emotional#stephen sondheim recording the actual phone message so he could tell jon that he was proud of him??? bro#it's all so sad and tragic but so beautiful and i'm just#emo hours#and he did deserve an oscar for it change my mind#andrew garfield#jonathan larson#alexandra shipp#lin manuel miranda#tick tick boom#oscars#robin de jesus#vanessa hudgens#musical theater#tragedy#musicals#netflix#personal#rent#stephen sondheim
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2023 is not my year 99% of the time, but it is my year for movies. The dnd movie, across the spiderverse, Barbie, fnaf, the movie industry is finally feeding a hungry watcher after years.
#movies#dnd movie#atsv#barbie movie#fnaf movie#I'm actually begging people to go to the theater with me again for the first time in years#I WANT to go to the theater for the first time in years#the joy of watching with others has returned for the first time in forever#I think the last time I was begging to go to the theater was going to see big hero six when it first came out in theaters#I watched that shit front row opening night at my fav theater in a packed room and SOBBED it was so good#and now I'm hyped as HELL for all these upcoming movies#my family is sick of me#kelpie rambles
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Oh in case anyone wanted to know yes I cried when I saw the Little Mermaid in theaters. Jae had to continously grab my hand bc I started shaking lol, I was crying like a BABY
No I did not cry during the Barbie movie but I was dressed to the nines for both lol
#mine#i had to hold myself back from sobbing so i wouldn't miss anything#could literally feel my inner child healing throughout that entire movie it was so good#me and jae both dressed in pink for barbie ofc but for tlm i had a pirple top green bottoms obvi with a frov beret#and beacoup frog accesories as well as a fuck ton of glitter#oh yes i also did bring my childhood turtle plushie named flatface into ther theater what about it#its safe so assume we can infer which one was my favorite lol#edit I can't spell- purple top green bottoms and a frog beret#willow has a matching crochet frog hat teehee#there was no question of who the most hyper person in the theater was it was very visibly me lmak#we went a little later in the week so the theater was surprisingly empty though which was fine by me it made my crying less embarassing lma#ANYWAY ITS ON DISNEY PLUS NOW TIME TO WATCH IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN ALL WEEK
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I can barely handle scrolling through tweets about how good the Color Purple is without tearing up, how in the WORLD am I supposed to survive finally watching the movie?
#the color purple#i read the book and finished it on a train and had to FIGHT to not cry in my crowded train car#like i sobbed my eyes out watching the revival 6 or 7 years ago. i had to be dragged out the theater.#full body sobbing as my mom led me up the aisle#because i cried through the entire finale and the bows non-stop just clapping and shaking and crying#how am i supposed to function doing it all over again#on that note i will be seeing it eventually. but. i will bring an entire box of tissues.
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episode eight: the battle of starcourt
He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”
Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !
Rating: general, violence and swearing
Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 21.2k (ouch)
Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !
-
El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart.
No one knows what to do.
Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.
“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe.
“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”
Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”
Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”
The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”
“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”
You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”
Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”
El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”
“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”
Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”
He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”
“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest.
Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you.
“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her.
You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you.
Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.
“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood.
“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!”
You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.
“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.
She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it.
To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it.
El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill.
With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it.
You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch.
Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before.
Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”
“You know him?”
Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.”
“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face.
Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”
“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”
Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”
“Anytime, old man.”
–
“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.”
You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you.
He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.
And somehow Billy has become the face of it.
The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy.
“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him.
Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”
“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears.
“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast.
“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”
Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.
Which, according to Max, is still very much alive.
But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–”
“We cut the brain off from the body.”
“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”
It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.
You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army.
It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.
You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough.
“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”
“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”
Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”
Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.”
“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.
“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”
You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”
He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”
“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive.
“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”
You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”
“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from.
“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”
“And who are you?”
“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”
“Murray… Bauman.”
“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”
“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”
You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”
“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”
While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”
“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”
“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.
“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.
“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”
“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.”
Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”
Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”
“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time.
You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”
“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him.
You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”
“And I won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means?
In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you.
The walkies. Cerebro.
“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”
Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”
Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”
Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”
“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him.
You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”
“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”
“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”
“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”
“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”
He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.”
Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”
Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”
You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”
“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”
More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper.
Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him.
–
Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with.
The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away.
He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”
You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”
Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”
Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”
“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”
Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”
“Astounding…”
You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh.
Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all.
Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions.
“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”
“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission.
He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”
“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”
“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”
“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier.
Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”
You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”
Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home.
You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others.
Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.
“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.
You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”
“Lame.”
“Goodbye, Wheeler.”
Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”
Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed.
But no one has asked the same question for Billy.
Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”
Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them.
–
Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.
It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.
“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.
“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”
“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.
You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”
Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”
Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?”
“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said.
“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.”
“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.
“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.
Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”
Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?
Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl.
There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time.
Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you.
You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”
“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”
Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.”
Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”
“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”
Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”
“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”
“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”
Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”
“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.
Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse.
The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”
“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass.
“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races.
The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!”
“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!”
“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass.
Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.
Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”
Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating.
When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”
Bald Eagle had been your idea.
“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.
He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”
“Not bad, buddy.”
Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”
Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.
Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone.
You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him.
“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”
“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”
“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”
You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”
From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.
It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall.
You freeze.
The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right.
Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”
“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you.
Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.
Someone has to help.
Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”
He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”
Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas.
El.
The Mind Flayer has them.
Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”
Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore.
“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!”
“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”
Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”
“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”
Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing.
“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”
The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.
–
Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.
“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”
“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together.
You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”
“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction.
In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you.
“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.
You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”
“I see him!” He floors it.
The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream.
“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for.
“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened.
It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”
“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”
You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before.
A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”
Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do.
As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride.
“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.
“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”
“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.
You wince. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”
No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums.
It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim.
“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.
Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.”
“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right.
The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”
“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.
Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”
“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand.
“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”
“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”
You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.”
Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?
“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out.
“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better.
“I want to hear it.”
Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”
“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise.
Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”
“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you.
Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”
His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to.
The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you.
Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw.
“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together.
Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them.
Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song.
That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.
After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”
Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”
“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”
The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later.
Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with.
“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases.
“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”
You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”
Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”
“So you left them?”
“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this.
“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!”
“Y/N–”
“Turn. Around.”
“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!”
Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall.
–
When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan.
“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”
“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.
“If we throw them from above, yeah!”
You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”
Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.
You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”
Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”
Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth.
Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin.
It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game.
But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back.
“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. WIth every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens.
Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky.
Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.
Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition.
“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face.
Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive.
Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El.
She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving.
“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.
You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone.
“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters.
“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him.
“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”
Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t.
You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”
And then you’re gone.
Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her.
They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws.
Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him.
Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp.
Everything happens slowly after that.
The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side.
The second one that cuts through his other side.
Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest.
Everything stops.
“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares.
As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.
The gate has been closed.
Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body.
“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”
You kneel next to her, at her side through it all.
Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”
But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?
Those had been your last words to him.
“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.
Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again.
Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.”
She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well.
You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent.
Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer.
You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that.
You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you.
And then you had left him.
Billy Hargrove died alone.
You and Max will share the burden of this guilt.
–
Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl.
Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall.
Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.
“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet.
Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame.
It’s all a blur after that.
Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building.
There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye.
“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”
Time.
It always goes back to time.
Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat.
A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.
Her eyes meet yours.
Hopper isn’t with her.
Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs.
In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.
“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you.
Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body.
There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.
You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father.
You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything.
You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired.
“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”
Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”
“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”
Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”
“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”
You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”
El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up.
Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft.
But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair.
“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”
Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”
You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”
He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”
Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable.
Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless.
You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being.
“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.”
Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?
You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can.
Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.
Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him.
“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”
Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you.
You finally, finally, have come home.
–
Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time.
After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster.
“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.
Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.
Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling.
Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days.
During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do.
Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.
Together, you all try to heal.
Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone.
“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once.
“Come outside, angel.”
His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”
“Wear something warm, okay?”
“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home.
You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.
Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”
They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music.
When your dad left, he took the music with him.
Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings.
Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.
“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear.
You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”
As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.
He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.
“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather.
A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm.
Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”
Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”
He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it.
There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him.
The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”
His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love.
Take your time, I’ll be here.
“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability.
A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can.
Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue.
Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight.
“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.
“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.
“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?”
Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you.
Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”
You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.
For time to stay like this, forever.
You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for.
When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!”
You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”
“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night.
“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him.
“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right.
You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms.
“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other.
Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.”
Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”
“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it.
Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”
You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”
“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”
“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”
“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you.
With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her.
“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers.
He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”
With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love.
“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”
“I love it, Steve!”
“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”
His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”
Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold.
After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale.
Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”
“I’m resting my eyes.”
“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”
It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him.
“I was scared, last summer.”
Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”
“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”
“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”
He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”
“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”
Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”
“It’s tradition at this point.”
And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy.
–
A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night.
His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in.
You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change.
Jonathan is crying.
“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”
He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”
Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.
Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you.
Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again.
“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”
“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”
You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones.
Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other.
The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two.
Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.
–
Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.
You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.
“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship.
“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”
You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.
“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”
“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”
Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”
You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”
“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.
Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”
You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”
“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave.
She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”
Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”
“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”
“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses.
The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”
“A new what now?”
You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”
He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”
“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop talking.”
“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”
Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”
“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!”
You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?”
“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him.
“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”
Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini.
He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”
You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”
“I can sleep right now and find out–”
“I will flick you again.”
“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”
–
When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack.
You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night.
As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California.
When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.
El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together.
With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.
As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door.
You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything.
All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him.
You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”
Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”
“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room.
Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”
His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.
You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet.
“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan.
You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug.
“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”
El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”
You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”
“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce.
The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s.
A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”
Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him.
“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”
You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”
“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”
“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”
Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”
You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son.
Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do.
“Hey, little bee.”
He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”
Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”
“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you.
“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.
You frown. “Hey, what is it?”
“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”
Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”
You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”
Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day.
As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you.
It’s time to say goodbye.
Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.
“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”
You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”
Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it.
“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”
You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair.
Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight.
“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”
And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart.
–
The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye.
You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead.
“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”
“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van.
Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”
“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.”
Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house.
Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again.
You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky
Joyce’s words ring in your head.
It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will.
The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist.
You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new.
Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.
And you believe her.
[END OF SEASON THREE]
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#nya#m's writing#WE HERE !!!!#ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT#THEN WE ONTO FOUR !!!
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Pathetic
Pairing: AU!Sukuna x reader Genre: angst Content: the title says it all, pathetic ‘kuna core. Sukuna cockblocked himself because he's afraid of commitment :DD a bit of gojo x reader at the end bc y/n deserves love. Wc: 1.2k
“Stop being so pathetic.” He had declared, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice.
But you, ever resolute, had refused to let his harshness deter you. Sukuna knows how much his sentence has hurt you. Your hands were trembling as you reached his, desperately seeking connection. Tears glistened in your eyes, your voice was quivering but you smiled at him through your blurred vision.
“We could work it out right, ‘Kuna?” you implored, your voice soft yet it held so much weight. “Please talk to me. I don’t need anything else! I just need you. We don’t have to get married or anything. I am content just being with you. I love you.”
Sukuna’s gaze remains distant, his eyes fixed on the table behind you. He isn’t looking at you anymore. His response was dispassionate and void of the warmth he used to give you. “It’s not that. I just don’t love you anymore, Y/N.”
He watched you break and he watched you swallow your sobs as you clutched his hand tighter. “That’s okay,” you whispered, your voice desperate, barely more than a breath. “You loved me once, I could make you do it again. Tell me what to change and I’ll change for you, love.”
“I don’t care. I’m leaving.” He pulled his hand away, leaving you alone in your once shared bedroom. He still remembered the sounds of your sobs down the hallway as he walked out of your life.
Sukuna was always sure of himself that day he left you. He had said it so indifferently, so carelessly, as if he didn’t spend years being loved by you. He thought he moved on quite easily— bouncing from one woman to another, getting drunk on his own success, and wasting the rest of his twenties on meaningless connections. The hollowness of it all continued to haunt him.
It’s been half a decade trying to ignore the ache that has been gnawing at his heart. And it wasn’t until he saw you again did the gravity of his actions finally catched up to him.
It was supposed to be your anniversary and Sukuna finds himself pathetically walking into the places you once walked with him. He claimed he forgot about you but his feet always drag him to the remnants of you every year, without fail. He convinced himself it was just a mere coincidence that he walked to the same park where he first hugged you, how you fit right into his arms like you were made exactly for him. He finds himself dining in the restaurant you love so much, and he wonders if you still go there to order your favorite food.
He didn’t want to lay on his bed because he would think about how you used to run your hands through his hair when he’s upset or stressed. He would think about the warmth and comfort radiating out of you when he pulls you closer to him.
He told himself he had forgotten about you when he still hadn't thrown away the polaroid of the two of you, smiling softly as you kissed his cheeks. It was still in his wallet and he never bothered to change the photo. He remembers the way you clung to his arm, excitedly pointing out the changing leaves as autumn envelops the weather. He called you an idiot but you scrunch your nose at him and pulled him to a kiss. He remembers you dragging him into a movie theater to watch a cheesy romantic comedy. He got bored midway but he stayed anyway because he didn’t like seeing the pout on your face.
And he couldn’t rid what you had left him despite not taking any of your belongings when he left. He finds you in his morning coffee, how he drinks it with creamer and sugar because you told him it tasted better. He still gets your favorite laundry detergent every time he shops and he still folds his shirts the way you taught him to.
He thinks of you every sunrise, you once told him it’s a privilege to see the sun come alive right before your eyes and he stays up until morning just so he could pretend he’s seeing it with you.
Why is he mourning over a person who is very much alive?
He lets himself wonder if you think about him too, if you’ve forgiven him. His hands itch to call you to apologize or to ask to see you. He stops himself every time.
In the first year of your break up, he scrolled through your social media accounts to catch a glimpse of your life. You blocked him on everything the following year.
He drowned himself in his vices once more to numb that void you left. And once the party’s over, he would return to his empty mansion, clutching the only relic he has of you— the sweater you left at his place. It didn’t have any traces of your favorite perfume anymore yet he still hung on to it. In those moments, he allowed himself to regret his decision.
What would his life turn out if he told you what was on his mind?
It finally dawned on him when he saw you that day. You were still as radiant and you were smiling just as bright. You still looked like the same woman he walked away from years ago. The same woman he still loves. Only, you looked happier, your joy evident in every step you took. Sukuna watched you emerge from your favorite cafe, holding your coffee in one hand, a ring on your finger. The sight sent a shiver down his spine.
In your arms, cradled tenderly, was a child. Sukuna knew without a doubt that he was yours, the same eyes that had once held his heart were now reflected in your son’s eyes. White strands adorned your son’s hair, and Sukuna suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.
He had never entertained the thought that he would ever see you with someone who wasn’t him. But now, as he stood there, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had no place in your life anymore.
You had settled down and gotten married to none other than Gojo Satoru.
He watched as your husband approached you, whispering something in your ear that made you giggle and smile harder. He watched as Gojo brushes your hair out of your face, taking your son from your arms so he could hold your hand.
Sukuna watched as Gojo Satoru gave you everything he couldn’t.
It felt like the gods were mocking him. And oh how Sukuna knew he messed up when he saw how you looked at Gojo the way you used to look at him.
It was supposed to be him.
He turned and walked away again before you could see him, paying his last respect to your own peace and happiness. Every step he took felt like daggers into his heart.
It’s pathetic, isn’t it?
wanna read more?
#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader angst#sukuna x reader angst#sukuna x reader oneshot#sukuna x you oneshot#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna fic#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#sukuna angst
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Not now!
Spreading my legs open as I feel the babies head bulge behind my skin. I’d been ignoring the urge to push while simultaneously pushing in tiny amounts. I can’t give birth here! Not in the movie theater! I hold in my cries poorly as the baby slowly makes a tear drop with my pussy. I cover my mouth and push, sobbing quietly. My other hand grips the chair. My soaking wet pants start to bulge out as the baby comes to a halfcrown. The baby is huge. I squirm, trying not to push anymore.
“OH GOOOOOOOD THE BABY!!”
finally the movie ends and I scream. My legs spread wide as I give in and push. The babies head streches to a full crown then pops out onto my pants. I cup the babies head with a shaking hand. I scream again as I push, the baby slowly turning.
“HELP ME SOMEONE HEEEELP!! AAAAAAH!!”
The pants are keeping the baby in, making it harder to push. I scream again as the baby’s body slowly moves forward, stretching me wide open. I stop when the baby is half way out. People are watching me in awe as I shakily stand up. My pants sag down with the baby. One more agonizing push and it drops into my pants.
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shall be your full-time first anon then. happy it made YOU happy.
anyway, benny-boy watching his girl watch a movie at the theatre. like, he’s hunky dory with movies and adventure stories and all that. but he can’t stop glancing over, y’know?
you have no idea how happy this makes me :') i hope someone made you as happy as you have made me today <3
our sweet darling benny boy taking you on a movie date :'( I'll sob because he'd absolutely want to do it right. sure you're practically glued at the fuckin' hip, but this feels serious. this is a proper date and he wants to give you all that you deserve and more :( he's nervous, hand shaking as he takes yours, helping you slide onto the cracked leather bench seat of cockroach's old chevy. you blush. of course you do. everytime he touches you it brings color to your cheeks: the proprietary hand on the small of your back as he leads you from the concessions, the way your knees kiss in the dark, your fiddling fingers finding one another in the popcorn bucket :( benny knows he should be watching the movie but you're far more entertaining. so responsive you are, gasping in all the right places, eyes going wide, hand covering your gape when all is revealed. benny sits back, legs spread, thumb and ring finger pinching his bottom lip as he analyzes you. his girl. his girl. his girl. :( he loves everything about you :( your eyes, your nose, your hair. everything :( and you're so invested in the on-screen drama that you don't even notice his unceasing stare until the credits roll and he's jerking his chin in the other direction biting back a smile :(
by the time the night is over benny's piggybacking you from the theater and to the truck. it's only when you're babbling on and on about the stepmother and the accountant and that really weird babysitter who was actually an undercover agent do you realize he's completely lost. "benny," it's meant to be an admonishment but it comes out like a whine. with one hand loosely on the wheel and the other on your leg rubbing lazy circles, he shrugs. "had my eye on somethin' else, s'all." he flicks his eyes over. "tell me about it again. c'mon. start from the beginning." and, yeah, it sounds interesting, but he doesn't regret his inattentiveness one bit because far too soon he has to drop you off and what will he have to stare at then? a fuckin' wall? anyway, he walks you to your front door knowin' your folks are long since asleep and that's perfect because "i wanna kiss you. s'that all right?" you've kissed before, little pecks here and there because, well, you're you and he doesn't want to overstep but fuck, this kiss is different. this kiss is hungry and you're the one in control. this time your fiddling fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck and your tongue asks, begs, to enter his mouth and he has to stop. puts his hands on your hips and pushes back just so. you're embarrassed, but benny shakes his head. "gotta wait for all that." he whispers, eyes flicking over to the front window because the curtains are parted and familiar faces are staring and fuck you have a lot of explaining to do.
#anon i love you sm#benny cross i love you sm#he's such a sweetie boy i will die on that hill#like yeah hes a biker but jesus fuck once he's in love he's in love and how lucky are YOU#benny cross x reader#austin butler x reader#benny cross#benny :'(#i got carried away bro#clo answers#✍🏼#benny boy :')
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Belladonna! bad ending ↬ everything is not as it seems
You were too late.
Karina was dead.
You had failed her.
Your eyes were filled with tears as you sat on the cold, blood-smeared floor of the theater’s dimly lit office. Karina’s body lay in your arms, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing. You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your chest, nor could you escape the crushing weight of failure. The bitter taste of guilt consumed you whole, suffocating you as flashes of memories spent with Karina played in your mind.
Renjun’s name echoed through your thoughts, as loud and relentless as a gunshot. Renjun, with his twisted quest for revenge, had been the cause of so much bloodshed. Every victim he had killed was another reminder of your inability to stop him. And now, Karina was gone.
A creak suddenly interrupted the silence, your head snapped up as the office door swung open, revealing Renjun standing in the doorway. His face was unreadable, but his presence screamed: danger.
“You,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. You clutched Karina’s lifeless body, as if you were protecting her from him even now. “You did this. You killed her. You killed them all! I can’t believe I ever loved you.”
Renjun slowly stepped into the room. The flicker of the lights casted shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to decipher. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the accusation hang in the air.
Then he laughed. A low, hollow laugh that sent chills down your spine. “You think I killed her?” he asked, his voice unusually calm. “You really believe that?”
“You’re a monster,” you hissed, your fingers curling into fists. “You’ve been on this path of destruction for weeks. I couldn’t stop you before, but I will now.”
Renjun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, love. Closely. And what I saw tonight?” He took another step closer, “You killed Karina. With your own hands.”
The words struck you like a physical blow. “That’s a lie,” you shook your head. “You’re trying to twist this, manipulate me like you do everyone else! Like you manipulated me into loving you.”
Renjun just stared at you, his gaze not changing. Suddenly, a creeping dread began to claw its way up your spine. A memory flashed—a flicker of Karina’s horrified face, a struggle, the spray of blood.
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. Your breathing quickened as the fragments of the day pieced themselves together. Meeting Karina in the office. The overwhelming anger that had consumed you. And then... Karina’s voice, desperate and pleading, calling your name.
The truth crashed down on you, a wave of terror and repulsion. Your hands, trembling and stained red, had ended her life. Not Renjun’s. Yours.
Renjun his expression almost mocking, as he watched realization dawn on your face. “There it is,” he murmured. “You’re finally seeing it, aren’t you? The truth.”
You staggered backward, releasing Karina’s body as if the more you held it, the more it would burn you. “No,” you repeated again, but the denial sounded weak even to your own ears.
Renjun crouched down next you and cradled your face in his hands, his voice a low hiss. “You were so blinded by your obsession with me, so consumed by your need to be the hero, that you didn’t even realize who the real monster was. It was you all along.”
prev ↤ belladonna! ↦
AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ 🙈🙈
SUMMARY ↬ you've been tasked with visting and inspecting the grand rose theatre, a theatre that's been plagued with mysteries over the years. all seems well, until a string of murders follows your visit. as you further investigate, you find yourself falling for huang renjun, the beautiful male lead, and your mystery murderer who leaves you love notes and clues about who they could potentially be. will you be smart enough to be a step ahead of the killer? or will you find yourself caught within their trap?
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#nct#nct dream#nct 127#smau#nct smau#nct dream smau#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct texts#nct dream texts#nct 127 texts#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#nct x reader#huang renjun#nct renjun#renjun huang#renjun smau#renjun imagines#renjun texts#renjun fluff#renjun scenarios#nct social media au#kpop smau#renjun x y/n#renjun#renjun fics
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𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww
a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)
word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending
[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]
"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.
the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.
hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.
the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.
you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.
yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.
"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."
"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"
you wish you could answer that question.
there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.
and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.
at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?
you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.
you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.
it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.
which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.
you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.
one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.
the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."
hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.
ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.
—
"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"
"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."
"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.
"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."
hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.
your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.
"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.
"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"
"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.
the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.
the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.
hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"
"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.
"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.
"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."
"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."
hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."
"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"
hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.
hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.
"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.
"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.
as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.
you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.
because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.
jeon wonwoo.
—
[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]
"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.
you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.
he's a doctor.
"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"
but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.
"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"
"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"
a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."
your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."
"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?
"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.
"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."
you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.
dr. jeon wonwoo.
the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.
—
[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]
"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.
you know that's far from the truth.
"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.
"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."
you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.
you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.
—
[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]
"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.
thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.
you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.
soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.
the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.
—
"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.
"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"
"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.
"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."
you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."
a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.
"i'm sorry, i should've known-"
"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.
"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."
"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."
"i like blue," wonwoo says.
"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.
the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.
you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.
—
[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]
"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"
wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.
"stop."
"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.
"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"
"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.
"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.
"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."
"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"
"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."
—
[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]
soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.
it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.
you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.
it didn't work.
it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.
it was wonwoo who took care of you then.
"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"
you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.
"i've fallen in love with you."
the truth it is then.
wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"
he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.
—
[ present - 24th november, 2024]
"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."
"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."
"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"
"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"
"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.
"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."
—
[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]
"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."
"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"
"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."
"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."
"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."
you let yourself believe him.
—
[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]
"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."
"y/n-"
"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.
"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."
—
[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]
"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.
"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"
"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."
"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.
"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"
"promotion?"
"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."
the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.
"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.
"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."
—
[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]
"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."
"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.
“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."
"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.
"please, y/n, give me another chance."
"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."
"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"
"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"
you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.
you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.
you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.
no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.
the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.
"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.
"you were scared too, weren't you?"
wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.
you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.
"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"
"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."
"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.
"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.
"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."
"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."
"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."
"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.
wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.
"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.
"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.
wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.
"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.
the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.
you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.
"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.
the last thing you see is his name-tag.
you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.
"i love you."
you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.
you're alone.
you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.
your time is nearly up.
you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.
it's almost over.
and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.
your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.
and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.
otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.
you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.
you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.
you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.
you'd taste the kiss of death.
the timer rings; three minutes are up.
dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.
- fin.
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Watched the Wild Robot today and... DreamWorks has released a banger yet again. Someone was genuinely sobbing their eyes out in the theater. I almost cried. I have yet to actually cry during a movie.
I got chills watching this, man.
Anyway, have some warm up sketches I did after I got home.
#art#digital art#fanart#artists on tumblr#drawing#doodles#the wild robot#dreamworks animation#the wild robot fanart#sketches#my sketches#digital#digital drawing#digital sketch#warm up#warm up sketch
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The Gunslinger Atop A Chestnut Mare
MINORS DNI
You’re a young widow on your way home from your friend’s engagement party when you’re ambushed by five armed men. You think this is the end for you until you hear the sound of hooves.
warnings: gun violence, death, mild age gap (reader is in their 20’s), oral, p in v
this is a sister fic to “Low Honor, Lower Morals”. i really enjoyed writing that one so i wanted to see the contrast in how i’d write a version with him having high honor. this is also my longest fic to date!
You made your way home on the streets of Saint Denis from your closest friend’s engagement party. It was a wonderful night, your friend and her betrothed had been together for years so this was a long time coming.
You yourself were a young widow, still in your 20’s. Your husband, Peter, had been killed in a tragic robbery gone wrong two years prior. He was the son of a sugar baron and thus had an incredibly sizable inheritance, making him a target for criminals.
You had left the theater together after seeing a stage play when you were cornered by a group of armed men. Peter tried to fight back, putting himself between you and the gunmen, but they shot him. You watched Peter die in your arms.
You stopped at nothing to bring his killers to justice. It was long, frustrating work, the police of Saint Denis were notoriously corrupt and incompetent. You had to pull a lot of strings, pay a few officers under the table here and there, but it was worth it. You would do anything to make the men who took your husband from you pay.
After two years of what seemed like stagnant progress there had finally been a break in the case, suspects had been identified, members of a local gang. All the police needed to do now was track them down. You didn’t have a lot of faith that it would happen any time soon, but it was all you had.
The thought of Peter’s death hung heavy in your mind as you walked down the street. You rounded the corner when five men appeared, all of them armed. The leader grinned.
“Hey there pretty girl, remember us?”
You recognized them immediately and your heart sank, they were Peter’s murderers. You turned to run, but the leader seized your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit alley.
“We know you been havin’ the cops sniffin’ around, tryin’a find us.”
“I’ll give you anything, just don’t kill me, please!” You said as tears began to fall.
“Ain’t nothin’ you can give us. We’re gonna send you off to that husband of yours and don’t you dare think of runnin’, cause even if you escape we’ll find you. We know where you live, girl.” He sneered.
He pressed the pistol to your temple, you shut your eyes tight, praying it would be so quick that you wouldn’t feel a thing and you’d be with your husband again when you heard a whinny and the sound of hooves on stone.
You opened your eyes to see a gunslinger at the edge of the alley atop a beautiful chestnut mare. He reached for his revolver and raised it high in the air, firing a deafening warning shot.
He spoke in a deep rural accent. “Hands off the girl.”
The leader cackled, pointing his gun at him, one hand still on you. “Or what, cowboy? You wanna play hero? Come over here and see what happens to idiots who don’t know their place, but first I’m gonna paint the walls with this pretty little girl’s brai-“
The gunslinger shot him and he collapsed to the ground, dead. The others turned their guns at him, but he quickly fired bullets into their heads with a speed unlike anything you had ever seen, blood spattering on the ground, all of them meeting the same fate as their leader.
The gunslinger jumped off his horse and approached you.
He spoke softly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “You alright? Did they hurt you?”
You shook your head, words completely failing you. You broke down and sobbed, falling to your knees. He caught you and pulled you into a warm embrace so close that you could smell him, a scent of cedar and lye soap. You buried your face in his chest and bawled, tears staining his shirt.
“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
He stood you up, his hands on your shoulders.
“Where’s your husband? Does he know-“
“I- I’m a widow.” You hiccuped between violent sobs.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I saw your ring and I thought…” He trailed off.
“No, I just wear it to feel closer to him.”
“I’m sure he was a good man.”
“He really was.”
“What did they want with you anyway? Why was they so set on killin’ you?”
“They- they were part of a gang, they killed my husband and I’ve been working with the police to find them. They caught wind that I was looking for them somehow.”
“I’m so sorry, you’re far too young to be caught up in all of this.”
He cupped your cheek and wiped away your tears.
“Let’s get you out of here. C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
Terror set in as you remembered the leader’s words. You began to hyperventilate.
“I- I can’t, they said they know where I live. And now that they’re dead the other members will surely come after-“
“Don’t you worry about that. How about this? I can come back with you and if anyone does come after you I’ll protect you, I promise. Sound good?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
He climbed on his horse and extended out a hand, you were hesitant. You had been in your share of stagecoaches driven by horses, but never ridden on the back of one.
“It’s alright, she don’t spook easy.”
He pulled you up onto the saddle and you wrapped your arms around his waist. He gave a soft kick and the horse began a gentle trot.
“What’s her name?” You asked.
“Athena. She’s a good girl.” He responded, ruffling her mane.
You rode in silence a bit before he spoke.
“Oh hey, I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.” He said.
“Y/n. You?”
“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”
He chuckled. “I could say the same to you.”
-
“It’s on your left.” You said.
He took in the sight of your estate, you still lived in the mansion you and Peter had shared.
“Damn, I knew you was fancy by that dress, but this is really somethin’.”
He hopped off his horse and took your hand, helping you down. He hitched his horse to a post, giving her a pat.
“Good job, girl.”
He turned to you, up until now you hadn’t yet managed to get a good look at him through all of your tears. Now that he was illuminated by the street lamps you noticed just how incredibly handsome he was. He noticed you staring.
“So, uh… you gonna let me in?”
“O- oh! Yes, of course.”
You opened the door and led him through the mansion, his boots echoing on the cold marble until you reached the bedroom.
“I’m assumin’ you wanna change outta that dress? I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me for anything.”
He closed the door behind you. You let your hair down and slipped off your dress, dropping it to the floor. You untied your corset and took off your bra and bloomers, as you always did on boiling, muggy summer nights such as this. You pulled your head through your nightgown, letting it fall over your figure.
“You can come back in now.” You said.
He opened the door and blushed immediately, trying very hard to not stare at your nipples that were ever so visible through the thin fabric.
“Wow, you, uh- you look different with your hair down. It’s nice.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He tilted your chin up. “Alright, you try to get some sleep now, sweet girl.”
Something about this tough, ruthless gunslinger treating you with such softness, calling you “sweet girl”, was making you feel things. Things you hadn’t felt since you lost Peter.
You climbed into bed and Arthur took his place siting in a chair in the corner of the room, staring intently at the door like a guard dog, keeping a hand on his revolver. Every so often he gazed at you to make sure you were okay. He reminded you so much of Peter, the way he had a strong urge to protect you, to keep you safe.
As you laid in bed the tears returned and you started to tremble as the weight of what happened sank in. Arthur took notice immediately.
“Sweetheart, you’re shakin’ like a leaf. Is there anything I can do?”
“Come here… please.”
He got up, taking off his boots and sat next to you on the bed as you shook.
“God, you look terrified. What else can I-”
“Just hold me.”
The blush returned to his face.
“S- sure.”
He set his hat on the bedside table, revealing his hair, a beautiful shade of sandy brown. You turned your back to him and he laid down, pulling you against him. You both lay in silence until you noticed the feeling of something warm and hard pressing against you.
“Arthur, are you-”
He pulled his hips back.
“Oh goddammit, I’m sorry. I’m not meanin’ to, you’re just so beautiful and I’m a man. I can’t hel-“
You turned to face him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.
He struggled to find his words. “You- I- what?”
You ran your fingers through his hair.
“I really like you, Arthur Morgan.”
He sat himself upright.
“Sweetheart, you don’t want this- you don’t want me. You’re a lady of high society and I’m an outlaw. I’ve hurt people, killed even, and not just startin’ with the men who tried to take your life you tonight.”
You moved yourself to straddle his hips, putting a hand to his chest.
“I’m not afraid, I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”
“You- you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. What I want from you is nothin’ like what you got goin’ on in your head.”
“So… you do want me.”
“Of course I do, you’re gorgeous, but I can’t. You have no idea the kind of things I’d to do to you.”
You leaned into his ear, whispering. “Try me. I think you’ll find we want the exact same things, Arthur.”
You reached a hand down and stroked his hard cock through his jeans. He couldn’t take it anymore, pulling you into a furious, passionate kiss. He ground himself against you, his hands beginning to pull up your nightgown.
“Can I?” He said between kisses.
You nodded.
“Good girl.” He purred.
You turned bright red.
“For the love of god, please never stop calling me that.”
“Oh you like that, huh? And here I thought you socialites was all vanilla.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Arthur.”
“Well, I’d love to get to know you better… in more than one way.”
He pulled the nightgown over you and dropped it down the side of the bed. He looked at you, eyes widening.
“Hold on, you wasn’t wearin’ anything under there this whole time?”
“I’m sorry, it just gets so hot and humid during this time of year.”
“Oh I ain’t complainin’ one bit, makes things far easier.”
He moved his hands to his jeans, starting to unbutton them. You put your hand on his.
“Wait, I want to see you too, all of you.”
He chuckled. “You want me to do a strip tease for you, sweetheart?”
You nodded enthusiastically.
He got off the bed, slid his suspenders down his shoulders and started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, seductively rolling his hips while maintaining eye contact. You couldn’t help but giggle seeing this rugged outlaw strip like an exotic dancer in front of you.
He smirked. “Enjoyin’ yourself there?”
“You put on quite the show, Mr. Morgan.”
He tossed his shirt aside. He was decently built with defined pecs, you couldn’t resist the urge to bite your lip. The longer you looked more apparent it was just how many scars dappled his torso, some of them appeared to be from bullet wounds.
He removed his belt and let it drop to the floor, unbuttoning his pants and slipping them off. You got a good look at the length that hung between his legs. You had been with a limited amount of men in your life and he was the biggest by a mile.
You got off the bed and sunk to your knees, moving to take him in your mouth. He laced his fingers in your hair, gently pulling you away from him.
“Ah, no, you don’t need to do that.”
“Why? Isn’t this what men always want?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love it as much as the next man, but after what you’ve been through tonight I want this to be about you- pleasin’ you.”
“You’re such a gentleman, Arthur Morgan.”
He chuckled. “I have my moments.”
He picked you up and set you on the bed, getting on top of you. You spread your legs for him and he kissed his way down your body as he lowered his head between your thighs.
“You ever had anyone do this to you before? Eaten your pussy?”
“A handful of times, but I can’t say it’s ever done much for me.”
He looked up at you and flashed a cocky smile.
“Ain’t gonna be like that with me.”
He buried his face in your pussy, his hot breath and beard making you shiver. He took your clit in his mouth and rolled it on his tongue, you gasped, he definitely knew what he was talking about.
“Barely started and you’re already so wet for me, good girl.”
You seized his hair.
“Oh Arthur.” You moaned.
“Christ, I love hearin’ my name come outta your mouth.”
You never knew cunnilingus could feel this good, you were dripping into his mouth.
“Goddam, you taste so good.”
You felt yourself getting close. It was strange, the only times this had ever happened to you before were by your own hand late at night while you buried yourself in a steamy romance novel. To feel this way because of what someone else was doing to you was truly magnificent.
“A- Arthur, I’m gonna- oh god.“
“Gettin’ there ain’t you?” He teased.
“Mhm.” You nodded, unable to form actual words.
You thrusted your hips against his tongue, he responded by gripping them to hold them steady.
“Eeeeasy girl, I know you’re gettin’ close, but I won’t be able to get you there if you’re buckin’ like a wild horse.”
He sped up his rhythm, you shook, this time out of pure pleasure. You pulled at his hair and he gave a growl of approval.
“Good girl, cum for me.”
His praise did you in. You cocked your head back with a loud moan and came all over his mouth. He moved up to kiss you, you could taste yourself on him.
“Did that feel good, princess?”
“A thousand times better than when I do it to myself.”
“God, I’d kill to see that.”
He got on top of you, kissing your neck.
“You sure you’re ready for this? Have you ever had one this big before?”
You shook your head.
“Didn’t think so, your face wasn’t hidin’ it, the way you was practically droolin’ and your eyes as big as saucers when you saw it.”
“I’ve been told I have a terrible poker face.”
He laughed. “Then remind me to challenge you to a game of strip poker.”
He angled himself at your entrance.
“Promise me if it hurts too much you’ll tell me, okay?”
You nodded and he slowly entered, you drew a sharp breath and winced at the feeling of his girth. He looked at you with concern.
“You alright? You want me to stop?”
“No, don’t ever stop, please.”
“Such a brave girl.” He cooed.
With a groan he had managed to fully get himself down to the base of his shaft. He pressed his forehead to yours.
“I’m gonna start movin’, try to focus on breathin’, it’ll help.”
He began to gently thrust himself into you. He reached down to grab one of your breasts, massaging it, his hand was rough and calloused.
“God, your tits are so soft.”
He was so tender with you and you could tell he was holding back, that he wanted to fuck you harder.
“You can go rougher, I don’t mind.”
“I- I don’t wanna hurt you.”
You kissed him.
“It’s okay, I can handle it.”
“What does a classy girl like you know about takin’ it rough?”
“I have a sizable library just down the hall with some literature of… interesting content.”
“The hell kinda books you readin’?”
You wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Just fuck me, Arthur. Hard.”
He smirked. “Such filthy talk comin’ from a lady, but if you say so, princess.”
Arthur kissed you aggressively and pinned your wrists down, increasing his speed dramatically. You cried out at the sensation, it hurt in the best way possible. He practically fucked you into the mattress, the bed shaking. It felt incredible, no one had ever fucked you this rough before. High class men acted as if any sort of passion made them brutish, save for Peter, but even he wouldn’t have dared to try anything near to what Arthur was doing.
“God, Arthur you feel so good.” You moaned.
“Mmf, I didn’t know girls of your caliber could want something like this. I figured it was all just lovemaking for you.”
“And who says lovemaking can’t be intense, lustful?”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, sweet girl.”
You rolled your hips back at him. It felt so good that your eyes fluttered closed, your head tilting back. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head back down to face him.
“No, look at me, girl. I wanna see those eyes looking back at me.”
You met his gaze, staring into him. His eyes were surprisingly gorgeous, a deep oceanic blue.
“Good girl, so beautiful.”
He fucked you at a punishing speed, the sound of both his and your hips making contact was so loud that it practically echoed through the mansion.
“I- I wanna try something.” You said.
“Yeah? Go on, tell me.” He inquired between panting like a dog.
“Cowgirl.”
“Oh? Have you ever-“
“No, like I said I wanna try it.”
“Good girl, tryin’ new things.”
In one seamless motion he rolled himself onto his back while picking you up to sit on top of him, his cock still inside you.
“Hold on.” He said with a devilish look.
He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his hat, placing it on your head.
“There, now you’re a proper cowgirl.”
You rocked your hips on him, fully sliding his cock in and out of you. He let out a groan.
“Jesus, that’s some nice ridin’, girl. For someone who’s never done this before you sure act like you have.”
“It’s- nngh- actually pretty intuitive.”
“I love when you use big words like that, such a smart girl.”
Now that you knew what felt good for him you moved yourself faster.
“Goddam, you keep doin’ that and I ain’t gonna last much longer.”
He grabbed your hips and thrusted into you brutally hard and fast. He was close.
“I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it, sweet girl?”
“I-in me… please, Arthur.”
“But what if you get preg-“
“I don’t care, I need to feel it in me so bad.” You begged.
“God, you’re so perfect. Where the hell you been all my life?”
He let you resume control, you relentlessly fucked yourself on him. His breathing became fast, his cock twitching wildly. He gave a loud moan as he came deep inside you, filling you with his cum. You didn’t stop, continuing with your breakneck rhythm, he winced and held your hips in place to stop you.
“Nhh, ah- stop, you can’t just keep goin’ like that after I already came.”
“Sorry I couldn’t resist, you feel too good.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.” He chuckled.
He let out a deep exhale, his head sinking into the pillow. You took his hat off, setting it back on the nightstand. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.
“You done good, real good, girl.” He sighed.
Arthur pulled out and laid down behind you, pulling you against him once again. It didn’t take long for sleep to embrace you. He stayed awake all night, refusing to leave you unprotected for even a second.
-
You awoke the next morning to Arthur kissing the back of your neck.
“Mornin’, princess.” He mumbled into you.
He laid with you for half an hour as the morning sun streamed through the window before he got up and started to get himself dressed.
“Now, as much as I hate to leave you, I got some important affairs to take care of. Think you’ll be alright on your own?”
You nodded and he kissed your forehead.
“Do you think- do you think we can see each other again?” You asked.
He smiled. “Well, I ain’t leavin’ town for a while. If that’s what you want, I’d be more than happy to look at that pretty face again. That and someone’s gonna have to keep you safe if anyone from that gang comes lookin’ for you.”
He took your hand and kissed it. For an outlaw he really could be a gentleman.
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan fanfic#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#my fics
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Crazy For You- Ethan Landry
Ethan Landry x Reader
Summary: After Ethan survives, you decide to visit him.
When you got the news that Ethan survived, you didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was happy that someone you loved so much made it through the several surgeries he needed, but you couldn’t stop thinking of all the people you lost. You couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn chasing you around the theater with that knife. You couldn’t forget his dad yelling at him to kill you.
You’d recently started therapy, and against your doctor’s wishes, you decided to visit Ethan at the high security mental facility he was currently in.
As you pulled up to the brick building, you showed the guard your ID. He looked it over, before picking up the phone. You sat there, palms sweaty, not knowing what to expect. The guard gave you back your drivers license, before opening the gate.
“You’re going to go to parking lot B. When you get there, push the button at the door. Someone will be down to get you,” He said. You thanked him as you drove inside.
Once you made it to lot B, you were scared to get out of the car. You sat there for a while contemplating your choice to see him. You pushed past your fear, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hurt you. You needed answers. You needed to know why he went along with his dad’s plan.
You pressed the button on the door. It didn’t take long for a nurse to let you in. You made a little small talk, before asking the questions about how safe this meeting will be.
“Is he still dangerous?” You asked, after you got in the elevator.
“We have him on plenty of meds, and he will be strapped into the chair. He won’t be able to hurt you. He might not even speak, just be prepared for that,” she said, as we reached the third floor.
As the doors opened, the words ‘High Security’ were painted in bright red letters on the wall. You passed door after door of various inmates, all there for horrible crimes.
You were led to a room with white walls, a table and two chairs. You see Ethan sat in one of the chairs, his arms and legs strapped in. He turned his head as he saw you, a weak smile playing on his lips. You took a seat across from him, not knowing what to say.
“I’m happy to see you,” he said, words slurring from the medication.
You couldn’t say anything, you just stared at him.
“Baby, I’m sorry for everything,” your heart started beating faster. You missed him calling you ‘baby’.
“Why did you do it, then?” you asked, tears slipping out.
“I had to do what the rest of my family wanted,” he looked down at his lap. He’s never been able to watch you cry, and knowing he was the reason was killing him on the inside.
“Why did your family want me to die? I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Richie,” you whispered, wiping away a few of your tears.
“We all expected to make it through, and you would know the truth,” he said, “But I couldn’t do it. I love you too much to hurt you.”
You heard him start to sob, still not looking up from his lap.
“We could’ve turned them in. We could’ve fixed the situation before it got bad,” you said, thinking of all the different ways things could’ve been handled.
“No, I couldn’t. Dad worked with the police. I knew if I didn’t go along with it, he’d pin it on me.” He finally looked up to you, his eyes red from crying, “I wouldn’t be able to be with you.”
“You’re not really with me now, though.”
An officer came into the room, telling you that you needed to leave soon.
“NO!” Ethan yelled, as he started to thrash around as much as he could in the chair.
“It’s okay, I’ll come visit again,” you said, seeing exactly why this is where he needed to be.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, throat raw from his screaming.
“I need to, but I promise I’ll come see you soon.” You said sincerely, standing up to leave the room. You were almost outside the door when Ethan spoke.
“Wait…do you still love me?” he asked, the smallest ounce of hope in his eyes.
“I don’t think I could ever stop loving you,” you whispered, as the nurse came over to escort you out.
“That’s the first time he’s cried since he’s been here,” she said, pushing the button for the elevator.
“Really?” you asked, a curious tone in your voice.
“We’ve heard him yell, he’s been violent, but that’s the first time we’ve seen that kind of emotion out of him.”
Your heart started to swell.
“Is that good for him?” You asked.
“I think so. The question is, is this a good thing for you?” she asked, walking you to the exit.
“Probably not, but I love him.”
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