19 Years Later... (Darth Vader X Reader Miniseries Chapter 1)

One Last Chance

masterlist

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - I was given two prompts by the lovely @auroracalisto thank you for giving me these to write my very first steve fic!!! <3 enjoy !this turned out to be really angsty lol sorry

summary - vecna picked you, not max

warnings / includes - s4 spoilers! mild language, established relationship, gore details, cute couple stuff

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“I’m so stupid,” Steve whispers. “How did I not know? She’s my girlfriend, for God’s sake. I’ve been with her for almost a year, and I couldn’t tell that she was in pain? What kind of boyfriend am I?”

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Nancy assures. “She didn’t tell anyone. She hid it well. She didn’t want you to know.”

Steve sighs and looks back at your sleeping figure. He knows Nancy is right, but it still shatters his heart. He devoted all his time to being the best boyfriend he could, especially after the mistakes he made with Nancy. He thought he did everything right, but since Vecna appeared, he found out he didn’t.

Keep reading

OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022)

I mean, the good news is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. I can crawl forward.

Steve + caring for everyone when nobody expects it

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.  

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned. 

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly. 

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures. 

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed. 

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse. 

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically. 

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly. 

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said. 

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin. 

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh. 

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight. 

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad. 

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.”

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly. 

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly. 

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time. 

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung. 

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs. 

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out. 

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.” 

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes. 

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear. 

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires. 

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements. 

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock. 

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again. 

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist. 

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly. 

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip. 

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder. 

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing. 

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break. 

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

Adam Sackler + Happy/Sad

nope nope nope my heart went oops

# Hayden “Adorkable” Christensen on the set of Revenge of the Sith

anakin + 🤡

the road back to you — billy hargrove

summary: as you find salvation from your grief in the form of a beat-up car, you may find what you’re looking for in the most unlikely of places. aka, when billy’s girlfriend falls under attack by vecna, he’ll fight through death itself to save her. pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader category: angst with happy ending content warnings: temporary canon character death (billy), language, descriptions of grieving word count: 6k a/n: hi y'all !! i'm really proud of my work on this one, it was fun to do. just a note, any blocks of italics is a memory/flashback.

masterlist want to join my taglist?

It goes like this—the moment you realize you love him is also the moment you realize you’re going to lose him.

It’s simple, really. You saw the moment El was able to reach him from wherever he was locked away, you saw the moment he stood and set his shoulders back, determined to carry out whatever plan he had come up with in the narrow seconds he had to himself. You saw the moment he stepped forward, never once looking back at you—does he know you couldn’t handle a goodbye even if he offered one? 

You saw the moment he stared down the thing that had taken away his choices for so long, and you knew he never intended to step foot outside of Starcourt again.

People often say the worst moments of your life happen in slow motion, but this time it all happened in one terrifying instant, too quick for you to do anything but watch.

“Billy!” You were sure the word wasn’t yours, that some other voice had screamed with enough force to scratch their throat to shreds. It wasn’t your feet launching you down the broken escalators, taking as many steps at a time as you could manage without tripping. The Mind Flayer was gone, but the damage it had inflicted hadn’t vanished miraculously with it. Even from across the room you could see what it left behind on the man you loved—too much blood, every limb far too still, red everywhere, why was it everywhere?

Max made it there first, dropping to the ground beside him with enough force against her knees that it makes you wince. You practically slide across the tile to reach him too, hands grabbing one of his. His are dirty, mixed with the dirt and blood of too many of your friends, from him. They’re still his though, with the same rough callouses you used to spend so much time trailing your fingers across. You cradle his hand between both of yours, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers as though that might take the pain away. Because there wasn’t anything you could do for him now but this, you’d try to bring him as much peace as you could, knowing he deserved so much more.

“—’m sorry,” he choked out, and you wished you’d never had to see the way blood slipped from those lips with his words. Already you could feel the sight imprinting on your mind, scarring over the once cheerful memories the two of you had made in this mall.

“Billy,” Max repeated, voice barely there through the tears that threatened to silence her, “please.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured the two of them, lower lip quivering around the words. Salt and iron mixed at your own lips as tears trail down your bloodied face, and a sob threatened to tear through your already scratchy throat. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

It looked like he wanted to say more. You watched helplessly as his lips parted and closed a few times, gasps coming out instead of the words he wanted. You leaned forward, hand resting against his cheek and trying to ignore the blood that stained it. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many hopes and dreams you’d never quite shared with him in search of the right moment. There never would be a right moment now, and that thought alone was enough to constrict your heart.

But this moment wasn’t about you, it was about the fear in his blue eyes as he looked between you and Max, as his lips still struggled to voice the final words he wanted to tell each of you.

Billy needed peace, so you would give it to him in the only way you knew how. 

“We’ll be okay,” you told him, blinking away the tears in a desperate attempt to keep looking at him for as long as you could. Because up until this moment, you’d assumed you had forever, you took the ability to see Billy for granted. And now forever was reduced down to seconds, and you had too many words to say.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise,” you continued, not missing the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction at the promise. You brushed away the stray curls that fell into his face even now, trying to memorize every inch of his face before he left you. For just a moment, through all the blood and signs of battle, you could almost imagine this was any other night. The two of you were laying in your bed, whispers falling between you as you fought to hide from your family. He would grin and hold onto you, saying he didn’t care if they found the two of you like this, and you’d laugh and say he might, your family could be scary when they were protective. They don’t need to protect you from me, Sweetheart, I’d never hurt you. What a fucking lie that was.  “I promise, we’ll be okay. All because of you, you saved us.”

When his breath stuttered and his chest grew gravely still, you felt your world grow colder. It was an immediate change, a crack in the dream you’d once had for how your life would end up. Because how could you ever have your happy ending when the person you wanted to share it with was laying here, in your arms, cold?

And when the paramedics finally pulled him from your hands, you were still whispering the same words.

I love you, I love you so much.

“Max! If you make me late to work again, we’re gonna have real problems!” you shouted through the rolled-down window of his—your—car.

“No, we won’t,” Max shouted back from the front door of her mom’s trailer, messing around with slipping a tape into her Walkman at the step instead of doing it in the car. “I know better.”

“Well, this time we will have problems,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at the level of sass the girl had. Though even now, you knew she had a point. No matter what she did, no matter how many words she tossed at you when she was frustrated, you would be there for her. You’d made a promise, nearly a year ago now. “Can we go, please? Harv is forgiving, but I don’t want to test his patience.”

Though she didn’t acknowledge you, at least Max sped up a little and climbed into the passenger seat as quickly as possible. You sighed when immediately headphones were placed over the girl’s ears and her head turned to face out the side window. After everything that had happened, you’d never expected her to be the same Max she’d been before but you’d hoped that she wouldn’t be this pulled back from the world. It seemed all she did anymore was drown everyone out in the music, only slipping off those headphones to convince everyone else that she was, in fact, fine.

You’d heard it from just about everyone now, that they were worried about Max but she’d stopped talking to them. Friends, teachers, and even Joyce Byers had called you once to say that Mike had mentioned what was going on to El. They all looked to you for help, expecting you to save her from the grief that threatened to drown her. But you weren’t a lifeguard like her brother, and all you could do was desperately reach for her hand and hope she’ll hold on someday. Until then, there was nothing you could do. Just like her brother, you couldn’t save her.

So you drove her to school every morning and took a few minutes off of work in the afternoon to drive her back home on the days her mother was working late. When she needed to go somewhere else, she knew to call you no matter the time. Sometimes she did, asking you to drive her to places just on the edge of town. You’d sit in the car and wait while she sat out there, watching the stars. You never knew what she did there, but if it helped then you’d take endless sleepless nights. All you could hope for was that, in time, she might open up to someone again even if that someone wasn’t you.

“Have a good day at school, kiddo,” you told her as you approached the school, and she must’ve barely heard you through whatever she was playing because Max graced you with a smile and nod before she slipped out the car. You stayed there for only a moment, making sure she got safely inside the building before you headed off toward work.

Harv’s mechanic shop was on the edge of town, giving you a long drive to destress. Every morning was the same anymore—you’d turn on music from a band you hardly liked but you’d found the tape on the floorboard the first time you’d worked up the nerve to slide into the driver’s seat. It had been sitting on the bottom of the backseat right where you remembered hiding it, when Billy spent an entire week listening to nothing but that song. Where before you only rolled your eyes at his off-key singalong, now you drove down country roads humming the tune with tearful eyes. ‘I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to walk into my life.’ 

And though you knew the car could handle faster speeds—Billy, slow down! Are you trying to get us in a wreck?—you’d take it barely over the speed limit, taking your time with the feel of the wheel under your fingers and the sound of the engine you’d come to adore. You’d never expected to see it again, much less spend so much time inside it. You often wondered what he would have thought if he could see you driving it around town. Would he smile fondly or would he sigh, reminding you there were better ways to take care of a car as beautiful as that one. Maybe you would roll your eyes back, proclaiming that if only he were still here, he could tell you what to do with it. But he wasn’t, so all you could do was use your best judgment.

When Max came to you in July in near tears, you didn’t know what else could have gone wrong. You were ready to fight anyone who dared to hurt her while she was already down, grieving someone she didn’t know she could grieve.

“He’s getting rid of the car,” Max hiccupped out after you’d brought her into your house, sliding a cup of coffee her way you knew her mother would have scolded you for. “I shouldn’t care, but, he’s just going to junk it and—”

“Who?” you asked, “Why?”

“Neil,” Max practically spit out, and though you knew she didn’t have a good relationship with him either you’d never heard such vitriol in her voice before. “He’s leaving town, and he wants to make as much money as possible selling his son’s stuff before he does, apparently.”

“Well, I promise you that car’s not getting scrapped,” you told her, already standing up from your seat at the kitchen bar. You grabbed your keys and hurried to find your wallet, a fierceness in your gait that hadn’t been there since the Fourth.

“How do you know that?” Max asked, following you out of the house and into your car. Any other time, you might’ve felt a warmness in your heart at the knowledge that she trusted you so much she’d follow you anymore without any explanation.

You shrugged, eyes on the road as you were speeding faster than you ever normally would. There was no way you’d be too late to talk to Neil, though, that was for sure. When you got there, you’d insist on buying the car off of him, taking whatever price he demanded because, to you, it was a priceless win. There were too many memories built into that car, too many smiles and laughs. You’d do what it took to make sure Billy’s pride and joy was saved. You weren’t an expert with cars, but you’d become one if that’s what it took. “I needed a new car anyway.”

The Camaro had sat untouched in your garage for a month before you were able to even look at it without crying, much less try to drive it. But eventually, you were able to sit in the driver’s seat without blurry vision and you set to work determined to restore its beauty after the damage it sustained at Starcourt. So you slipped Billy’s necklace over the rearview mirror and set out to find a way to bring the car back to life.

That was how you’d ended up with your current job at the local mechanic’s shop. You needed guidance in fixing the thing up and Harv was more than willing to impart his knowledge to someone else. After years of focusing on only the job, you were the closest thing to family he would ever get. He’d become something of a mentor to you over time, trading repair tips for well-cooked lunches. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when the older man offered you a job at the shop, making up some excuse that he’d rather focus on the cars instead of the business side of the shop. He let you work on the cars too, in between balancing the books and taking the occasional phone call. It was hard work, but you appreciated the chance to keep your hands busy before your mind filled in the blanks with memories you wished you could forget. 

“Forget the morning coffee?” Harv asked when you finally stepped through the shop. “You’re looking more tired than usual, tell me you’ve been sleepin’.”

“I can tell you if you want,” you hedged, slipping two brown paper bags into the fridge before grabbing a hand towel to throw over your shoulder. There were some days you needed more distractions than normal, and on those, he’d usually let you do more work on the cars than in the office. 

“Havin’ more dreams?” he asked, and the non-answer was enough for Harv to get the picture. For the past several months, you’d been plagued with nightmares of that night, of the immediate days after, of having to plan a funeral because his family couldn’t be bothered, of d—

“Please, please, no!” you screamed, the blankets becoming your new prison as you fought to escape them. Your voice was hoarse as you tumbled out of bed, landing on the same hip that was already bruised from previous impacts.

It was only two weeks after the ‘tragic fire’ at Starcourt, your wounds beginning their slow fade away. The nightmares seemed to get worse when you realized, that, soon you would lose any evidence of that night, of the sauna, of Billy fighting to stay with you all. Because he’d fought, no matter what the party seemed to think of him. You hated that you mourned the loss of the deep bruise around your wrist from where he’d grabbed it at the Mind Flayer, when you’d gotten roped into trapping him in the pool sauna.

“Y/N?” 

Fuck.

Max had been sleeping in the guest room of your parents’ house since the incident, admitting that it was too hard to be in the house where Billy had been. She’d told you it was confusing, seeing the rooms where he’d yelled at her so badly she’d cried but wishing he could be there to do it again. She hated the way Neil and her mom seemed to ignore what happened, carrying on as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

And you’d promised Billy that she would be okay, so you’d told her she could stay as long as she needed while she worked through her grief. You just never expected her to see yours, too.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, pulling yourself to your feet and trying to fix your rumpled pajamas and hoping she could hear through your closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, I was awake,” Max answered, slowly opening the bedroom door. Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the tear tracks shining on her face.

“Oh, Max, come here,” you called, and the second you held out your arms she was rushing into them. Her body hit yours harshly but all you could do was hold onto her for dear life, your own tears forming as she let out her sobs into your shirt.

“I don’t want to miss him,” she cried, “he hated me, I shouldn’t miss him so much.”

“Hey, hey, listen, okay?” you tried to tell her, moving back just enough that you could see her face. “Billy did not hate you. Do you know how often he talked to me about you? About how worried he was about you sneaking out so much, about how he was trying to keep you safe from N—your stepdad.”

“I want to hate him. He was so awful to my friends, I should hate him, and I hate that I—”

“What, Max?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, and you knew there was more to it but for the time being, she was already wiping away her tears with rough hands. “It’s nothing. I don’t think I’ve slept right since the Fourth of July.”

“Me either, kiddo,” you sighed, running your hand over her hair once before stepping back fully. “How about I make us some hot cocoa and we can watch a movie, something happy.”

“Still about that Hargrove boy of yours?”

“Always,” you sighed. It would always be him, no matter how many times you fought to move on. There was no easy way to erase the memories you’d made together, all the hard work it had taken to make your relationship set up to last.

“You know, there’s no harm in finding someone else to make you happy.”

“I know that I just,” you fought to find the right words, looking up to the sky as if Billy himself might help you conjure them up. “I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him. I don’t really know if I can again.”

“Why don’t you take the day off today?”

“I’d rather be here,” you told Harv. Because what else was there to do but sit and think about where you could have been? If you were alone, then you’d start thinking of the nights you’d lay with Billy, dreaming up a future for after the summer. In those dreams, you’d pack up his car with as few items as you could manage, and the two of you would drive. There wouldn’t be a particular destination in mind, as long as it was far past the Indiana border.

Instead, you stayed in the one place you knew he hated. Where else was there to go? You told yourself you could leave Hawkins when Max was out of school, when you knew she’d be okay on her own. 

“You can’t work yourself to death either,” Harv argued, grabbing the towel off your shoulder and tossing it over his instead. “Go, find some trouble to get into. You’re off for the rest of the week.”

At first, you were furious at the idea of a week off. It turned out, though, that Harv’s generosity came at a perfect time. Because suddenly, the Upside Down wasn’t as shut away as you once thought it was. Suddenly, Billy’s sacrifice wasn’t enough to completely spare the kids from the horrors that lurked under the city.

And as it turned out, you were frighteningly close to breaking your promise to him.

Because Vecna was coming after Max, and the only thing that was keeping her from a horrifying death was that damned Walkman you’d once cursed for existing. Now, all you could do was hope that the machine kept up, that you’d never need to read the contents of the letter tucked into your back pocket.

You’d do anything to keep your promise now, even cross into the Upside Down yourself.

The decision became even easier when Steve was pulled down into the lake, through the barrier he’d been investigating. Nancy had jumped in after him, Robin following soon after. It was an obvious choice, then, for you to jump from the boat.

The Upside Down was a living nightmare. You were sure this new scene would take the place of Starcourt each time you closed your eyes, between the bats determined to kill and the vines that connected all the way back to Vecna himself. You had to agree with Eddie in all of the panic over it, even though you’d been exposed to its horrors before. 

You thought the group made it out safe, though. Everyone was climbing up the curtains to get back to the safety of Eddie’s trailer, and you were up next but instead of falling through to hit the mattress set up on the trailer floor, you hit hard tile. It was white tile though was now marred with an eerily familiar red hue. Broken glass dug into your palms as you landed, though you hardly noticed it at all.

Because the moment you recognized those neon lights surrounding each store of the building, you knew you were doomed. Because Starcourt had been torn down months ago, yet now it looked the same way it had on the worst night of your life. You knew what was going to happen, you knew what memories Vecna would use against you. There was only one that continuously haunted you, kept you awake at night wondering if there was something else you could have done.

Immediately you took off toward one of the escalators, hoping to put as much distance between you and the mirage you knew Vecna would send to you. You didn’t want to see him, not after all this time, not like this.

“You always did run from your problems.” That voice, even as harsh and cold as it was now, was enough to make your heart race. It seemed to echo through the large courtyard, filling the space and making it impossible to ignore the form Vecna had taken on just for you. “What, too scared to face me, Sweetheart?”

The venom-laced nickname was sure to break you, if the sound of familiar boots on blood-stained tile wasn’t enough. You could hear Billy saying it a thousand times, each with more care in his voice than you’d ever heard before. It was some of the few times you could see his walls really melt, if only for a second. Now that love was being used against you, hurled at you with enough hate to make you wonder if this wasn’t how Billy had intended it after all.

“This isn’t real,” you shouted back in hopes of convincing yourself, never daring to look over your shoulder as you rushed up to the upper level of the mall. It felt real though, felt like you’d never been able to escape the nightmare of that mall.

“It’s as real as the day you let me die,” Not-Billy called back, letting out a near-hysteric laugh that you’d only heard post-sauna experiment. “I haunt you, don’t I?”

“No,” you gasped around the word as though the running at made you lose all breath stored in your chest. “No, you don’t.”

“Liar!” Not-Billy laughed, his pace quickening as the mall turned loops around you in an unbeatable maze. All you had to do was outlast him and hope that Eddie had a tape that you liked enough to snap you out of this. “You traded your entire life in for some promise you could never keep, didn’t you? You kept my car, my clothes, my music. You got a job somewhere you knew I’d like.”

He was gaining ground fast. Where were they with that music? How much longer could you last like this?

“It wasn’t for you,” you tried, keeping your eyes forward as you fought to find an escape. But the mall just extended, trapping you in the horror of the day you’d lost Billy. “It was for me.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you lay alone at night, Y/N?” Not-Billy teased, not seeming in a rush to catch up to you and instead preferring to break down your resolve inch by terrifying inch. “Admit it, you know you’re nothing without me. You know it’s your fault I’m not there for Max, so you’re taking my place.”

“No,” you denied, hating the rush of guilt that crashed over your shoulders like a rogue wave. “No, that’s not it.”

“You feel guilty. You know you could’ve noticed something was wrong sooner. You should’ve known. Did you really think I would hurt you like that?” 

Billy, what are you doing? This isn’t like you. Fine, if you want to act like that then you can do it alone, we’re through.

“I didn’t know!” you screamed back, the tears hitting your eyes at the memory of what you’d deem your greatest failure. Because you hadn’t noticed, you truly thought that he might’ve simply wanted to be so cruel that day. How were you meant to know he was taken over by a mythical creature from a kids' game?

You were just kids when it all went wrong. Fuck, you were just kids.

You finally chanced a glance at him, and the sight was enough to make you trip over your feet. You hit the ground harshly, wrist bending painfully as it caught your weight. But there was Billy, standing in his blue jeans and white tank, covered in blood the same way he’d been the last time you’d laid eyes on him. This time though, instead of blue eyes flashing in recognition they burned with a hatred you’d never seen before. He hated you.

No, this was Vecna. Right? Right?

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Billy’s voice overlapped with a deeper one, a haunting voice that settled deep in your bones. “You can admit you feel responsible for my death.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, ignoring the stirring of heavy emotions you’d long-since locked away deep in your ribcage. “We did the best we could, I tried to save you, Billy, I tried everything.” 

How many times had you tried to break him free from the hold the Mind Flayer had on him? How many times did you call his name, beg for him to return to you? And even when that failed, you launched yourself into danger just to keep him safe. Nancy, what the fuck are you doing? That’s still Billy, put down the gun, put down th—

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” Billy stepped even closer, head tilted to the side as he regarded your prone form. He bent down closer to you, a familiar rough hand reaching out to tuck under your chin. “And the worst part of it all, you let him die without ever telling him how you felt. You let him die thinking you didn’t love him.”

 You knew this was it, the moment Vecna could take you. Yet still, all you could do was stare at the face you’d never thought you could see again. You took the time to study his face, searching for any sign that this was the Billy you knew and loved. It may not have been him, but he still had his blue eyes, gorgeous freckles peppering his cheeks, and blonde hair with a stray curl still draped across his face. 

And if this was the end, at least the view was wondrous.

“You don’t have to hurt anymore, Y/N. I can make it stop,” Billy spoke in Vecna’s voice, and it was then you began to rise from the floor against your will. You didn’t fight it, not when you knew there was nothing else you could do. 

As you stared down the Not-Billy, all you could hope for was that Max wasn’t watching.

Miraculously, though, the final blow never came. Instead, that damned song played loudly through the air. It was the tape you’d found in Billy’s car, the one you remembered tossing into the backseat on a long drive a year before, just so you wouldn’t have to hear it again. The tape you played on your drive to work every day, just wanting to feel closer to the man you’d lost.

“I need to know if you feel it too, maybe I'm wrong!”

“C’mon, Billy, can’t you play anything else?”

“What’s wrong with Foreigner, Sweetheart?”

“For starters, your singing.”

You’d never been so thankful to hear that song. It was enough to release Vecna’s hold on you, dropping you to the ground. The second your feet touched tile, you were sprinting without another spare thought.

And there the scene was, right in front of you.

If you hadn’t already been under Vecna’s illusions, you’d have thought this was another one. Because you could see your own body dressed in what you’d worn to the lake, laying on the floor of the Upside Down trailer with familiar hands holding onto you. He was shaking you, hair falling into his face as his expression grew more panicked.

“It’s not working!” that voice shouted, “She’s not waking up! You said it would work, Harrington, why isn—”

“Billy!” you shouted, not understanding how you could see him there but running for him anyway. Maybe you were running toward the end, maybe this was your mind’s vision of an okay ending. Maybe there really was no escaping from Vecna, but all you could do was follow the sound of the music, follow his voice yelling for you to come back to him.

‘I’ve been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive’

“I’m here!” you shouted though you knew no one could hear it, feet moving faster than they ever had before as you chased the vision. The second your hand brushed your own, you were tossed back into your body with a gasp.

Instinctively, you fought the hold on your arms. It was Vecna, the Not-Billy, he was coming back to get you, he made you think that you’d escaped when really i—

“Y/N, hey, Y/N, calm down it’s okay,” that familiar rough voice called. It was a voice you’d thought you’d only ever hear in a dream. “You’re okay.”

Yet there he was, Billy fucking Hargrove, alive and well. He looked a mess—months of Upside Down survival coated on his face, hands, clothes. He was still wearing what he had been at Starcourt, still with the same teary eyes that he’d had at your final goodbye. Though this time there was a distinct relieved smile painting across his face, proving that this wasn’t some harsh illusion created by Vecna but rather the real Billy, your Billy.

“How are you...?” you trailed off, hand reaching up to press on his cheek. You half-expected him to disappear the moment you reached for him, but instead, his face tilted into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for only a moment. You tried not to think about how long it had been since Billy had known any kind of touch that wasn’t that of something dangerous trying to hurt him.

“I don’t know,” Billy admitted, and later you’d come to the realization that he’d fought through it all without any prior knowledge of the Upside Down, of the gates, of Vecna. All he did was try to survive, try to get back. “I woke up here after Starcourt. I thought I was alone here but Harrington and Munson started yelling and—

“I love you,” you blurted out, leaning forward to wrap him up in a hug. Your hands dug into his shirt, and clung to him like any moment he could disappear. And maybe he still could. You couldn’t quite understand how he was still here, how any of you would take down the creature coming after all of you. All you knew was that by some act of grace, you’d gotten another chance with the man you loved. And this time, you wouldn’t dare wait for the right moment to come before you told him everything.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, there was so much I wanted to say that night, I just cou—”

“I know,” he answered, “I knew then, too. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“This is sweet and all, but I suggested getting out of the freaky nightmare portal,” Robin called down to the two of you, reminding you of where you were and what you’d just gone through.

You weren’t sure you’d ever let go of him. Even as you climbed back up and out of the Upside Down, as you watched Steve bend down to help Billy out of his prison world, your hands itched to hold onto him again. It was like after so long thinking you’d lost your forever, you were scared—terrified—to let it slip through your fingers again.

“How’d you know that song would work?” you finally asked, looking at the group who all seemed to regard you with, well, it wasn’t quite fear but maybe apprehension. After all, you were just one of the latest to nearly succumb to the terrifying death that fell upon Vecna’s victims.

“I heard you, every day in my car,” Billy admitted. You’d learned today that people in the Upside Down could hear parts of the normal world if they tried, could be strangely connected to the people they needed to hear. “You’d get in and play that song. Every morning.”

You fought not to imagine what else he’d heard in his months there. Did he hear you when you’d gotten home from the scene that night, not bothering to shower away the grime before you tucked into bed and cried? Had he heard the way you’d locked your door against your parents, screaming to them that they’d never been supportive of you and him before, so why the hell should they get to help you mourn now? Had he heard you apologize every single damn day since it happened, knowing Max was suffering and not being able to reach her in the way she needed?

“I hated that song,” you whispered, looking out the wide-open front door to see the leftovers of the scramble to save you. The driver’s side door of the Camaro was tossed open, a few tapes scattered around the grass beside it. Though you hadn’t been there, you could easily imagine the scene as it unfolded. Billy and Steve, still in the Upside Down and fighting to hold onto you as you lifted in the air. Robin and Eddie, fighting as they looked over his music to find something near your taste. Someone screaming, asking Billy what your favorite song was and him growing angry because why the fuck does that matter right now?

Him knowing, even now, that of course your favorite song would be the one that reminded you of him.

“I’m glad I kept that fucking tape,” you laughed, a little hysterically as you untangled yourself from him.

“I knew you liked Foreigner,” he grinned cheekily, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of that look on his face. It didn’t happen often, especially not there at the end when he’d not been in control of himself. But you’d spend the rest of your days trying to recreate that smile as much as possible.

“Only because of you.”

JONAS BROTHERS FAMILY ROAST (2021) dir. Alex Van Wagner