#But they can make it harder to start a fic bc you know pausing halfway through is more difficult

[walkingstackofbooks]

What's the ideal length of a fanfic chapter?

I am at least a few weeks out from finishing my fic, but I'm just thinking ahead to how I want to put it up

It's a 5+1 fic, so has automatically got 6 chapters. (Julian is stuck for six consecutive days in a timeloop.) Originally, I was just going to post 1 chapter every week as I edited it, but while Chapter 1 is a friendly 3,500 words, Chapters 2 and 3 are both just over the 10,000 word mark, and I'm only halfway through Chapter 4 but it's shaping up to be at least 15,000, somehow!

So my options are:

The Original Plan

I aim to publish one 10k+ word chapter each week.

Pros: It's as intended, each "day" of the story happens in full, within its own chapter. Good if you like long updates?

Cons: Since I don't *actually* know how long editing will take, I might not be able to keep to a weekly schedule and timings may vary. Pretty lengthy chapters.

Plan 2:

I cut each of the original chapters in half for publishing, and either:

2a - I aim to publish two 5k+ word chapters each week.

Pros: It's still mostly as intended, each "day" gets published in full, just in two parts. Shorter chapters

Cons: Timings may vary again, since it's a lot to edit in a week. The story is split up slightly arbitrarily.

2b - I publish one 5k+ word chapter each week (cutting the original chapters in half)

Pros: I should be able to stick to the weekly schedule for sure. Shorter chapters

Cons: Each "day" of the story is cut in half, probably at a somewhat arbitrary point. 1/2 of Chapter 4 is still going to be 7-9k in length 😅

Plan 3

I publish one or two 3-6k word chapters each week. I'd think of the story as one long tale rather than as The Six Days and split up the current chapters into smaller ones at places I feel are suitable.

Pros: Shorter, more even, chapters. Better pacing Being able to stick to a weekly schedule (and possibly an extra chapter every so often)

Cons: Completely abandoning the 5+1 structure Story won't be told as intended

[stevesnailbat]

waiting for (another) girl like you | steve harrington x wheeler!reader

summary: Steve didn’t plan on falling in love with his ex-girlfriend’s little sister, but shit happens.

warnings: angst, past trauma, self-doubt, mentions of death

word count: 2.3K

a/n: this fic was inspired by the ST1 scene where Steve and Nancy were in his bedroom bc waiting for a girl like you by foreigner is one of my favorite songs at the moment and it played during that scene. it might be a little dumb but i enjoyed writing it so enjoy! also the gif used isn’t mine, it’s from google :)

It wasn’t unusual for the Wheeler household to have family dinner on Sunday with the whole family and the kid’s boyfriends and girlfriends. Most of the time, the dining room was filled with happy chatter amongst everyone at the table. The table was still happy for the most part, but it was different for Steve and Y/N this time.

Steve wasn’t sure what was wrong, but Y/N had been dead silent since they started dinner. He felt like he had done something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. She could feel him glancing over to her every few minutes as she stared at her half-eaten food that she lost interest in. She knew he was confused but so was she.

“Y/N, are you alright? Aren’t you hungry, sweetie?” Karen asked from across the table, making everyone look in her direction.

“I’m—I’m fine! I’m really not hungry, that’s all.” she replied quickly, giving her mom a small smile even though she knew she could see right through it.

Her mom gave her a knowing look before turning back to Holly, who was tapping her shoulder frantically. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look up at Steve, but she knew he was still looking down at her. She nearly winced when his hand reached for her thigh, giving her a comforting squeeze as he finally looked away. It was killing him that he didn’t know what was wrong, but he didn’t want to start something in the middle of a family dinner that could potentially end poorly.

The only thing on Y/N’s mind during dinner was Steve and Nancy, and the fact that she felt like a second pick to her sister in anything and everything. It was enough to make her appetite go away. She couldn’t look at him or her sister without feeling sick, her stomach tying itself into a tighter knot with every minute.

The rest of dinner felt like it took an eternity, and she only stared at her plate for the rest of the time. Steve tried to carry on a conversation with Jonathan while dinner finished up, but Y/N’s sad demeanor was distracting. She was the first to leave the dinner table, excusing herself without letting anyone know. She rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom she shared with Nancy, sliding her back down the wall to sit on the floor next to the toilet.

For the first time all night, she let out a quiet sob. Her thoughts made her dizzy and she felt like she couldn’t see straight, purely out of anger and spite. She knew she didn’t have much of a reason to be so upset, but the thoughts of Steve settling for her had been eating away at her mind for days.

A small knock on the door made her jump as she choked on another sob, her full attention going in that direction.

“Y—Yes?” she said, trying to make herself sound as put together as she could in the situation.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Steve said from the other side of the door, his ear on the door to hear her. “Can I come in?”

“No! Don’t!” she yelled, blocking the door handle quickly as she heard him sigh in frustration. “I—I think you should just go home, Steve. I don’t feel good right now.”

“You felt fine earlier, seriously, Y/N. What’s wrong?” he insisted, but got radio silence in reply. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll just wait out here until you decide to let me in.”

“S—Steve, just go home, please.” she whimpered, leaning against the door as she spoke through it.

“I told you, I’m not going home! I’m not leaving you when you’re upset, even if you won’t tell me what I did wrong.” he said, settling down on the floor outside of the bathroom. “I’ll wait for you, even if it means I’m out here all night.”

In that moment, she hated how good of a boyfriend Steve actually was. She felt like she was punched in the gut when he suggested that he did something wrong but couldn’t figure out what it was because she knew he was eating himself alive about. She didn’t really know why she was even mad at him, but she couldn’t help it. Steve truly was wracking his brain for any small details of what he could’ve done wrong in the last day, but couldn’t think of anything. On one side of the door, Steve listened to his girlfriend struggling to hold back sniffles and small sobs. On the other side of the door, Y/N was listening to the words for Waiting for a Girl Like You replay in her mind.

Minutes turned into an hour as they sat on the floor, neither of them daring to acknowledge the person on the other side of the door. Jonathan and El were gone by this point and Mike was in the basement while Karen was trying to get Holly to bed finally. Nancy walked up the stairs to see Steve leaned against the bathroom door, a feeling of guilt running through them both.

“She won’t come out.” Steve sighed when Nancy gave him a sympathetic smile.

Nancy only shrugged when he looked in her direction, not wanting to upset the girl on the other side of the door who was listening intently. Steve ran his hand through his hair and leaned his head against the door as Nancy walked into her bedroom, listening for any sign of Y/N wanting to come out.

“Y/N, please. I just want to talk! We can talk, right?” he pleaded.

“We can talk right here.” she said bluntly as she stared at the wall in front of her, not wanting him to see her tear-stained cheeks and red eyes.

“No, please, baby.” he begged, reaching up for the door handle but stopping himself from trying to open it. “I want to see you, I can’t understand what’s going on unless I can talk to you face-to-face.”

The other side of the door was silent for a moment while Y/N thought about what to do next. She knew how stubborn Steve was, and she knew he wasn’t giving up any time soon. It was useless for her to tell him to leave again, even though she was afraid to tell him how she really was feeling. But, she pushed past her doubts and opened the door, curling up into herself as she did to hide her face.

“I can talk to you face-to-face if you won’t look at me.” Steve joked, nudging her arm softly. “Please look at me. What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid.” she mumbled. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

“W—What?” Steve stammered, taken aback by the word bullshit being muttered to him by another Wheeler sibling.

“This! It’s stupid! Pretending like I don’t think about you dating Nancy? Pretending like I believe that you love me? Pretending like everything’s okay?” she said, finally looking up at him as she threw her arms in defeat. “Do I look like everything’s okay?”

“No—No, you don’t. But I—“

“Are you over Nancy?” she asked abruptly, watching him cautiously.

“Of course I am!” he said immediately, making her sigh in relief that he didn’t take a second thought.

“Do you still love her?” she questioned, the words harder to force from her throat this time.

“No. No. I don’t.” Steve said desperately while staring at her as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her, emotionless. “I love you.”

“Today when we were on the way to my house for dinner, that—that Foreigner song that I love was playing, Waiting for a Girl Like You. I was trying to remember who showed me the song, but I just—I just couldn’t remember for the life of me. But then, you turned the radio station and I saw the look on your face. You looked sad, like someone had just killed a puppy in front of you.” she began, not daring to look at him as she spoke. “That’s when it clicked, Nance showed me that song two years ago. She played it every damn day after things were good again.”

“Y/N, I don’t—“ Steve started, but she held her hand up to cut him off.

“I want to finish, Steve.” she sighed and he nodded quickly, recoiling against the wall. “That was the song you played for her when you guys—you know—did whatever on that night she snuck over with Barb. She was so in love with that song because it was so special for you guys, she told me that she’d never stop listening to it. But—But she did stop. And when she did was when she realized she fell out of love with you. But you—you never fell out of love like she did. You loved her until the end and—and you hate that song because you think that maybe there’s a possibility that you still love her, not me. I was just the closest thing you could get to her.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh under his breath as he shook his head. As much as he wanted to deny it, she wasn’t completely wrong. He didn’t realize that he had continued laughing until he looked up to see the broken expression on his girlfriend’s face.

“Why are you even laughing right now?” she asked, shaking her head as she watched the small smile fall from his face.

“Because—I don’t know, honestly. Maybe because you’re halfway right?” he said, not knowing the answer to his own question. “But, not about still being in love with Nancy, of course. I don’t love her and I haven’t for a while now. I do hate that song, though. But it’s because it reminds me of the last time that my life was good.”

The words bit into her heart like a goddamn demogorgon, hungry to hurt her in any way possible. Steve didn’t mean it in the way that she took it, though. She could tell he didn’t by the look on his face, so she stayed quiet while he paused to take a hitched breath.

“It was that night that I thought my life was on the up and up, but it really wasn’t. It went to shit after that day. We—we killed Barb—“

“You didn’t kill her—“

“Yeah, we didn’t kill her. But we let that thing, that monster, take her because I was stupid and didn’t think of anybody but myself because I was an asshole. Then everything went downhill and my girlfriend fell out of love with me, I didn’t even notice but you know why?” he asked bitterly and she shook her head. “Because I was still holding onto what I thought I had with her. But I was really just holding onto that god-forsaken night, the last night when everything my life alright. And I’d listen to that song too, even after the end I did. When I stopped listening to it was when I realized I had found better things, when I found you.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” she seethed, clenching her jaw to hold herself together.

“But I’m not! Once Nancy broke things off, I—I believed that nothing would ever go right for me. Everyone thought everything was fine, right? Because I had to put on a show for the sake of my family.” he confessed.

His voice finally showing signs of pain as he spoke this time, but he didn’t want to hold back. He was rambling at this point, but it was comforting for both of them in some odd way. His sanity was hanging on by a thread that unraveled just a little more with every tear she let slip, but they were slowing down now.

“I acted like things were okay and held onto that damn night like my life depended on it. Because after that night, I became the best damn actor, I became the best stupid, happy teen boy that Hawkins had ever seen; I even believed the act I was putting on.” he sighed, leaning his head against the wall to stare at the ceiling.

“You were looking for a distraction from your acting and I was convenient.” she replied quietly. “The naïve little sister of your ex who wouldn’t take a second glance at the bigger picture of how stupid it all was, right?”

“No—No. You weren’t convenient at all, really.” he laughed, reaching to graze his fingertips across her knuckles. “It wasn’t easy when everyone was telling me it wasn’t worth it, that it’d be too weird to try to even talk to you, that you probably didn’t want me like I wanted you. But I didn’t listen because I saw that look in your eyes when you smiled at me, you looked happy and—and like you wanted to be with me; I ignored everyone because I knew it was worth it. So no, you weren’t convenient. You were far from it, you kinda still are. I think you’re worth it.”

She still stared at the wall in front of her as she let his words process in her mind, the feeling of his fingers against her knuckles soothing her. He watched as she tore herself apart inside, trying to find her own answers.

“You know you’re not my second choice, right?” he interjected, making her eyes flicker in his direction as he squeezed her hand. “If Nancy wanted me back, I wouldn’t care. I know she came first, but that doesn’t mean shit. I didn’t realize that you were right in front of me and that you’d bring so much happiness to my life.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she scoffed as her heart fluttered when he smiled in her direction.

“It’s true! I swear, it really is, Y/N. I love you.” he said as he moved towards her, taking her head in his hands to look into her eyes.

“I love you too, Steve.” she said softly, smiling at him for the first time all night as she leaned over to kiss him softly.

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (5)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 4016

He had you, and that was enough.

warnings: gore, graphic imagery, family trauma, panic attacks, dark themes, drug abuse, drug shaming

a/n: as always,,,,pls leave feedback!! also, after thinking for a while, i realise that the pace of this story might make people upset? not bc it’s fast but because things happen quite quickly, if that makes any sense whatsoever. also, btw, just bc something happens easily in the fic does not mean the rest of the story will end up being that way!!! maybe fate made things easy in order for them to get harder ;)

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05. scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare ↝ 07. thrones

“So, is Y/N your girl?”

Unlike yourself, Taehyung seemed to enjoy himself with Namjoon, dragging tied black bags from one end of the yard to the back of the warehouse, where a line of discoloured and rusted dustbins sat. Following a trail of grime from three trips back and forth, Taehyung had memorised this path like the back of his own hand.

“No,” he replied, and he wasn’t sure if he liked his answer. Namjoon looked over, puzzled. “To tell you the truth, we’re not really...anything. Barely friends.”

“Oh,” Namjoon said. “You looked close.”

Taehyung heaved the black bag over his shoulder and into the same dustbin as before. “Survival skills.”

Namjoon turned to head back, waiting for Taehyung to meet his elbow. “You said you’d been together for under two months now? That’s enough to be friends.”

“I don’t know anything about her,” Taehyung confessed, picking up a heavier bag. “I know her birthday, that’s about it. I don’t know- we’re close without being close. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, looking over his shoulder at him with a grin. “It actually does.”

Matching his smile, Taehyung threw the bag in the slot of the dumpster.

“You’re good at this,” Taehyung complimented.

“I’m used to doing it,” Namjoon replied casually. “Before all of this, I did heavy lifting for a company just outside of Seoul. Moved here to visit my sister for her exchange programme. Didn’t make it back home.”

Information. Taehyung craved it.

“What do you plan to do if you leave?” he asked. “If- that is.”

“Well,” he started in reply, “I wanna get on that boat of yours. Go somewhere safer, hopefully make it back home to our family. Everyone says this, but I know my parents are safe. They own a big business back in Korea and there’s literally no way they’re dead. I know them. Trust me. They’re alive.”

“Even if they are,” Taehyung continued, “do you think you can get there okay? I mean, I’m not being forceful, but I think me and Y/N would like company on the road, and after it. Our group is small, and I was barely there for a month, but they’re reliable. Strong. Safe.”

“Safe enough that no dead-meat can get anyone?” Namjoon asked, and Taehyung thought of Yena and the mess back at the old camp. The silence was enough for Namjoon and he looked away. “Sorry. Touchy subject?”

Taehyung heaved another bag. “Not really. Don’t worry.”

“I know what you want from me, Taehyung,” Namjoon said suddenly.

In alarm, Taehyung looked up. Was he not subtle enough?

“I know you want inside information,” he continued, as if it were obvious. It was, actually. “And I don’t know much. All I know is that they’re secretive pieces of shit. I want out too, like I said. I don’t know anything of value to you, but I might know a way out if it comes down to it. When you need to leave, say the words. I’ll take us-” meaning himself, Taehyung, his sister and yourself- “-to the exit and we can leave. It’ll be harder than I make it sound, but I can do it. Just never had the people to do it for. That’s all I can offer.”

He didn’t really know what to say. “That’s more than enough,” he nodded quietly. He barely looked up, “thank you.”

Namjoon didn’t press the conversation any further and neither did Taehyung. Actually, he didn’t talk until he pulled a heavier bag towards the far end dustbin labelled “PRODUCT WASTE”, and before he even arrived, Namjoon cringed at the smell.

“Smells more like human waste,” he commented, grimacing. “You got the bag? You gon’ throw it?”

Taehyung nodded curtly. “I got it.”

The elder smirked to himself, dropping his own bag to the floor with a squelch, the contents moving like the inside of a water bed. Without really taking any notice, Taehyung wrapped the black material around his hand, closing it like a fist as he readied to throw the bags. It was just like sports back at Uni. A game. Trivial.

“Ready?”

Silence.

Curious as to why Namjoon didn’t reply, Taehyung slouched and looked up through his straw-dry hair, noticing that Namjoon had frozen in movements, the muscles in his back tensed. The lid to the bin was pulled open, standing tall on the brick of the warehouse, a single fly rising from the inside of the presumably empty (or emptier) dumpster. For whatever reason, Taehyung couldn’t understand why Namjoon had stopped.

Without saying a word, Taehyung dropped the bag gently to the floor, minding the sickly moist sound. Stepping around the spilled black material, he approached Namjoon gently, minding him more than the bin. Pressing a hand to his shoulder, Taehyung made sure Namjoon was stable before he, too, looked into the bin.

Inside, he didn’t know if he was relieved or disturbed to see a pile of clothes, children sized clothes. In honesty, he had expected worse. Was this better than a body?

“Clothes?” he questioned, not looking away from the rainbow striped shirt and blue denim shorts. A pair of shoes were tossed to the side, and locks of raven hair. Underneath, he no doubt noticed more clothes. Confused, he looked to Namjoon for answers, stunned when he saw an unreadable expression on Namjoon’s face. “What is it?”

“I know those clothes.”

Taehyung held his breath.

When Namjoon turned, Taehyung half knew what was coming.

“They’re Daniel’s.”

Needless to say, the walk back to the main barn was hurried and silent.

Taehyung didn’t know what to say; he didn’t even know if he had to say anything. Several steps behind Namjoon, he constantly felt his gaze lifting from ahead to the ground back to Namjoon, his strides large and careful, his gaze scanning the lot for his sister. In a pause of great relief, Namjoon stepped quickly towards the smaller cattle barn, puzzled to see Kyungmin alone, afraid to know the reason why.

“Kyungmin!”

His voice was loud, louder than normal at-least, and Kyungmin looked up suddenly. Her mouth rounded to a “o”, and her eyes widened at the sight of her brother marching up to the fence. She rested her weight on the rake and furrowed her brows as he stormed over.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Namjoon scowled at her, not bothering to answer that question.

“Where’s Y/N?” Namjoon asked, and Taehyung looked up at Kyungmin then, slinking away when he found her eyes darting from Namjoon to Taehyung in alarm. “Kyungmin, I swear to fucking God, I’m being serious. Where’s. Y/N?”

Kyungmin began to talk and choked back the words. “Her hands got bloody so I said she should wash her hands. She went inside. When she came back out, she went to the main barn and started throwing up. I told her not to worry and to stay inside. She just wouldn’t stop throwing up breakfast.”

“Why were her hands bloody?” Taehyung asked suddenly, clearly not alarmed by the fact that you were currently throwing up near the barn. Namjoon turned around, scanning the field and noticing you hunched over near the doors, no vomit, but pain in your posture.

“We were feeding the pigs meat.”

Suddenly Taehyung felt like he knew why you were throwing up.

Muttering a hasty thanks, Taehyung turned on his heels to stride towards the barn, where his gaze rounded on your frame by the doors. Namjoon didn’t bother following, knowing you needed space most of all, and time alone with Taehyung. Instead, he turned back to Kyungmin and ushered her forward for a hug. He knew her clothes. He was thankful he hadn’t seen them in places he never even expected to find clothes.

It took Taehyung less than ten seconds to cross the field, whereas it usually took him thirty. On his last three steps, you had turned around, meeting him halfway through his second and practically pushing yourself into his chest, comforted by the feeling of arms around you, a hand cradling your head, a thumb painting circles on your back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” even though he had no idea if it was okay.

He had you, and that was enough.

28TH JUNE. MANY YEARS AGO.

“You never want anything to do with this fucking family! You think we want a fucking low-life in the house? You think I want a drug obsessed alcoholic around my kid? Fuck you.”

Another day in the life of Y/N L/N.

You stopped writing, listening to the last bits of conversation down the stairs of your family home. Aged 7, you had never known anything different than arguing. Every day, like a broken record, the same familiar sound of spiteful arguing, cups smashing and doors slamming greeted you, and to be honest, it felt normal.

Dad’s come home drunk again. He was out with Kristy.

You paused, listening.

“You’re a monster. I hate you. Our daughter doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this.”

He was fucking her.

Setting down your pen, you slid it down the spiral binder of your diary, rising from the top step and heading back to your bedroom. Like every other day, it got boring after the blaming happened. In a few minutes a cup would break, and Mum would leave the house to stand on the patio, crying. At that, you closed your window. You didn’t want to hear it. After that, Dad would come upstairs. He’d cry. He’d come in the room and make empty promises he knew he couldn’t keep.

It was a mundane routine that you couldn’t fall out of.

Sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees, you didn’t flinch when the familiar sound of a mug breaking on the kitchen tiles screamed in the house. Moments later, the door. Even with the window closed, you could hear your Mum crying. As if trying to make a point, she was crying louder. Harder.

The neighbours also closed their windows. It was easier that way.

Eventually, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, slow and heavy. You clamped your eyes closed in dread; you dreaded hearing those words. You dreaded being filled with false hope, only to be disappointed endlessly the next evening.

A quiet thud made you look up towards your door, noticing your Dad step inside with bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t been crying this time. They were red from drugs, from the weed you could smell on his clothes. Today, he was stumbling across the room. Drunk.

“Y/N, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but slurred. You cringed away and he paused, noticing. “You’re not afraid of me, are you sweetie?”

“Dad,” you whimpered.

He dropped to a small frog-like crouch, taking tiny steps towards you, his hands outstretched. They were shaking. Would he even remember this in the morning?

“You know I love you baby,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion or empathy, let alone love. He waved his hands, motioning you to come forward. Above everything, he was still your Dad. The only Dad you’ll ever have. “I love you so much sweetheart. I’m gonna fix everything and it’ll be okay again. I’m gonna make things right. I’m gonna come and get you in a few years, okay? We can move somewhere nice. By the beach?”

His voice lifted, and you thought the beach sounded nice. Relieved, he saw a nod.

For the first time in two months of this never-ending cycle happening, you moved forward into his arms, accepting a hug. One of the last hugs from him.

“There, there, honey,” he murmured against your hair, rocking you from side to side. A hand on the back of your head. Another on your back. Familiar. “I’ve got you, honey. It’s okay. I’m here. I got you.”

PRESENT DAY.

Since this morning, Taehyung’s hand had never once left your back.

It felt like a reminder that he was there for you, no matter what. Without words, he comforted you, letting you know that even when the world felt like complete and utter shit, there was someone you could rely on.

You sat quietly by his side, your thighs touching, legs hanging down over in the barn. Taehyung rested his chin on the beam running across as a sort of barrier to stop boxes from toppling down from where he had set up your shared sleeping mat, one hand under his chin, the other on the small of your back, becoming friendly. He hadn’t said anything since earlier. You liked that about him; he never pushed you to speak when he knew you didn’t want to.

“Earlier,” you said, and he quickly looked over, mostly surprised you were talking. Your gaze was downcast, staring at an empty spot in space. He moved his hand from your back to your lap, gripping your own hand with a comfortable force. “When you held me, you reminded me of my Dad.”

Oh. He didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing, figuring you had more to the story.

“When I was younger, my family would fight a lot,” you continued, voice quiet and gentle, like the voiced feeling of stroking a feather, “like every other family. I was no stranger to the typical parent fights. Only, they were daily. Every single day, I would hear them fight downstairs. I was so scared that one day, it wouldn’t be a cup breaking. I was scared I’d find my Mum downstairs on the floor instead of china or glass. I was scared of seeing either one of my parents hurt. My Dad...he’d come upstairs. Hold me for a while, crying. I’d cry too. He’d tell me that he’d come back for me. That he’d hold me tighter. That he had me. I felt so safe in his arms, even though I knew they were filthy. The arms of a monster.

“But I loved him. Because he was my Dad and no matter how much he hurt my Mum or me, I’d still love him. Everyday, I’d fall for the same recycled bullshit explanation. Until one day, he didn’t come upstairs to find me. One day, he just left. He left me and my Mum alone. He’d run off with the woman he was sleeping with on the side. He said- said he was too upset and neglected to come back to trouble. To come back to us.”

Taehyung truly didn’t know what to say.

“My Mum got diagnosed with breast cancer a couple months later. It broke us. Broke her and me, our relationship. And-my Mum phoned my Dad one day. She asked him to take care of me when she passed away. He said-” you choked on your words, unaware that tears were rolling down your face uncontrollably. “-He said that he didn’t know who was calling. Didn’t know a [Mum’s name] or a Y/N. Fucked off with another woman and had more kids. Forgot about the one who loved him. And, when my Mum died,” you sniffed, inhaling breath, “I had nothing. No money and barely any family. I moved in with my grandparents.”

Wiping away the tears, you braved looking at Taehyung. “Truth is, Taehyung, I’m scared. I didn’t wanna let you in, because I didn’t wanna be alone again. But, I need you. I need you. I need you to live. If not with me, then for me. Right now, you’re all I have left.”

He knew no words could reply. Instead, he pulled you forward, tightly wrapping you in an embrace beyond friendship. Inhaling the natural smell of your skin, he tightened his grip, content when your arms snaked around his waist, your face pushed near his armpit, his own face buried in your nest of hair.

“You’ve got me,” he whispered. He was sincere, you could hear it laced in his words. “You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere without you, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you, always.”

The hug lasted longer than before, until it became physically uncomfortable to hold. When he pulled away carefully, he held your face in both of his hands, leaning to press a gentle kiss against your jaw, whispers hot against your skin, repeated, “I’ve got you,” marking your skin like a tattoo. His thumbs absentmindedly moved tears from your face, and when he moved from your jaw, he rested his forehead against your own, forcing himself to look down into your eyes.

It was suddenly intimidating, being this close to intimate with you.

“Don’t,” you said whilst moving away. His lips turned to a frown. “I smell like vomit.”

At that, he smiled softly, laughing almost. “I’ve literally smelt worse today. It’s not that bad.”

“It’s gross.”

He hummed as if indifferent. “It’s okay. Doesn’t bother me.”

Triumphant, you moved back, your hands curled around his upper-wrists as he cradled your face.

“What I saw today,” you began, after some time of silence. You struggled to find the right words. “I- Daniel-”

“I know,” Taehyung replied quietly. “I saw his clothes. A dumpster full.”

“They were feeding the pigs human meat,” you exclaimed, exasperated, moving away without realising with your hands still around his wrists. He let you move. Instead he just held your hands. “Human meat. And guts and there was so much blood and- it’s completely different to seeing a biter. They had bodies in the freezer, Taehyung. I don’t know if they eat them or feed them to animals but I saw what I saw and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Taehyung soothed, calming your panicked breaths. “I know. I take it this is one of your, ‘I told you so’ moments, huh.”

You smiled at that. “Isn’t it true though? I told you.”

“You did,” he agreed. “And I’m sorry for shrugging it off.”

Glancing up, you caught his gaze. Looking in his eyes, you let out a gentle sigh, “we can’t stay here, Taehyung. We really can’t.”

“I know,” he nodded, kissing your knuckles briefly before looking down at the bottom of the barn. Namjoon moved away from Kyungmin to look over at the group of other outsiders, and then his gaze flickered up to you both at the top of the barn. He nodded wordlessly, and Taehyung turned to you with a gentle and soft gaze. Had he ever looked at anything more beautifully? “I know. I’m gonna make things right.”

You closed your eyes.

It was not yet sunrise, and Taehyung figured he had to act quickly if he wanted to seize the chance to leave. Outside, he could hear the faint sound of reloading rifles and trucks transporting firearms further inside the warehouse, and he quickly descended the ladder to join Namjoon in the middle of the barn. Never before had the gun tucked at the back of his jeans felt so tight against his skin, as he walked with a newfound sense of pride and bravery towards Namjoon and Kyungmin, who sat on a hay-bale quietly. Joined by yourself, Kyungmin shuffled to lend you a seat as Namjoon gently led Taehyung away from the pair of you to a space of silence.

“I can’t protect everybody here,” Namjoon admitted quietly, gesturing to the rest of his old group huddled in their usual corner. In honesty, Taehyung hadn’t considered the possibility of them coming along. “But I can protect you and Y/N. Kyungmin is my priority, and I’ll do what I can to make sure you and Y/N get out safely. But I cannot guarantee everybody here will make it.”

Taehyung nodded. “I didn’t know they were coming.”

“I don’t want to carry the guilt,” he replied. “Just putting it out there.”

He lifted his hand to Namjoon’s shoulder, clapping it tightly and smiling as naturally as he could. Satisfied with the ghost of a smile Namjoon gave, he let go, approaching Kyungmin and yourself back on the hay bale. Reaching out to your hand he took it in his own, pulling you to your feet with Kyungmin following behind, meanwhile Namjoon stepped towards the huddled group in the corner of the barn.

They looked up, noticing Namjoon lingering near the open door to their area. A woman closest to the door took several moments looking at each one of you outside the stack. “What’s going on?”

Namjoon felt nervous. “The insiders are fighting a horde of dead-meat at sunrise.”

Someone scoffed. “Who cares?”

“Me. Because as soon as all attention is on the left, we’re leaving through the right.”

At that, a burst of life erupted from the corner, a mixture of exclamations and protests.

“You can stay if it’s too hard for you to leave,” Namjoon carried on talking, “but if you come, and you make it out, we can band together. Taehyung and Y/N know a group in Georgia with boats. Now, these boats can get us to the islands off the coast, where the infection probably hasn’t spread. We stay there until we have enough resources to continue going to wherever we best see fit. Most importantly, we’re not asking permission to leave. This is my last goodbye.”

“Namjoon!” the same woman rose to her feet. “You’re going to just abandon Jenny and Daniel? And Clara? Just for a bunch of stragglers we barely know?”

Namjoon nodded, confident. “I trust them.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be dumb.”

He took several steps backwards, his arm extending around Kyungmin in a protective manner as the group simultaneously rose to their feet. From the back of the small group of survivors, a man you remember being called to as “Harry” stepped up and over a bale of hay, a smooth black pistol in his hands pointed forward.

Namjoon immediately raised his hands. “Put it down, Harry.”

“No, man, fuck you!’ he cursed. “You pickin’ them over us? After all we’ve been through? Throwin’ it away for some fuckin’ Asian lowlives-”

“Way to make it personal,” you muttered, and his pistol spun in the air to face you.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

As his gun moved in your direction, Taehyung felt his body set into Protective Mode: he grabbed the gun from the back of his jeans and pulled it out, pointing it steadily towards Harry. The crocodile skin caught Harry’s eyes first, followed by the engraved golden initials of “PBG”, and Harry paused. His gun was still raised, although his gaze moved between each person with fury.

“Why the fuck has he got a Scorpion’s gun?”

Taehyung didn’t waver, or cower. From behind his muscles, you noticed that his hands didn’t even shake as he held the gun outwards, a frown on his lips and a small line between his brows. Every-time you moved to see, he would step in front of you, a shield.

Harry seemed agitated at having no answer. “You a Scorpion?”

“No, but I have connections and I know how to use them,” Taehyung replied in a deeper voice than usual. He sounded scary. When had you ever been scared of Kim Taehyung? “Put down the gun and I won’t exercise my skills.”

“Is that a fuckin’ threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

“You’re banding with Scorpions, Namjoon,” the same woman said, her voice elevated and face covered in worry. “Please don’t do this.”

Of course, Taehyung having relations to the Scorpions came as a surprise to Namjoon. It had certainly been something that was left out of conversation. Even though, yes, it was information that Namjoon would have liked to have known before being put in a situation such as this one, he still trusted the both of you wholly. Namjoon stepped once in front of both guns, his arms in a T pose, forcing both gunners to stand down.

“I trust them,” Namjoon repeated, pleading to the woman you still didn’t know. You never would. “Please. We’re not begging you to come. But we’re leaving. Please...please. Let us go, please.”

From across the room, the woman lowered her head. Her hair fell in front of her eyes, feathering against her eyelashes and she eventually looked back up, turning to Harry with a sour expression.

“Let ‘em go.”

[grapesodatozier]

5 Times Nancy Wheeler Saw Her Little Brother Cry and 1 Time She Saw Him Smile

here’s that st fic i mentioned a few days ago! i wrote this when 5+1s were still a thing lmao.

this is, for the most part, canon compliant. ship wise, there’s lots of mentions of mileven, but this is mostly just nancy caring about/looking after mike and being a good older sister (duffers take note) bc i love them both and wanna see more of their relationship lol. this is my first (and tbh v possibly only) st fic. i’d post it to my st blog ( @curlywheelers hmu lol) but my irl friends follow that blog so i’m posting it here instead lmao

words: 2,190

warnings: mentions of canon character deaths, generally v angsty lol

read on ao3 or below (:

Nancy Wheeler has seen her little brother cry plenty of times. He cried nearly every Thursday afternoon and Saturday morning the one spring their mom had signed him up for baseball, and she always rolled her eyes at him. He cried when he went down a hill too fast and fell off his bike when he was nine, and she put Band-Aids on his cuts. He cried when their parents would argue, and she hugged him until long after the shouting stopped so he couldn’t see her own tears. Still, her experience with Mike’s pain didn’t make it any easier for her as his older sister to witness.

* * *

Nancy sat in the living room with her parents, the three of them deafeningly silent; what was there to say? They had just received the phone call that Will Byers’ body had been found in the quarry, and they had no idea where Mike was, or whether he had heard or not. The only sounds that cut through the heavy air were Karen Wheeler’s uneven breaths as she tried to stifle her sobs of concern, wringing her hands. Nancy bit her lip to keep herself from crying too.

After what felt like hours, they finally heard the front door open. Mrs. Wheeler jumped up and met her son in the entryway of the house. Nancy watched as Mike crumpled into his mother’s embrace, sobs wracking through his body. Her chest ached and the tears started flowing; she wished she could do something to help, but what was there to say? Kids aren’t supposed to die. Kids aren’t supposed to watch their friends die. Nancy trembled as she watched her brother cling to their mother.

* * *

Nancy didn’t know what to say, but she knew she had to say something. Or maybe just listen, or even just be there. She had to do something for him; he couldn’t even tell their parents. She knocked on his bedroom door, but it opened slightly to reveal that he wasn’t in there. She sighed, knowing where he’d be. She did her best to avoid her parents as she made her way to the basement; she only ever went down there to do laundry and look for old clothes, and she felt almost like she was intruding on a space not meant for her as she swung the door open and started down the staircase. The sight before her stopped her in her tracks about halfway down.

Mike’s watery brown eyes stared up at her from a fort she had never seen before, making him look like a deer in headlights. He dropped the walkie-talkie he had clutched in his hands and began wiping his eyes as he sniffled. Nancy hurried down the stairs, sitting beside him. Nothing was said between them as she pulled him into her side, resting her cheek on the top of his head. The words she’d heard him say in Will’s hospital room echoed in her mind; She saved us. But she’s gone now. “Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked quietly. He shook his head, and she left it at that. She felt his body begin to shake as his tears came again, and as she rubbed his arm she willed herself to keep her own at bay.

The two siblings may not have been the closest in the world, but Nancy was good at reading people, and Mike was an open book anyway, so she could tell that Eleven had meant a lot to him. Thinking about it, El had probably been Mike’s first serious crush. Nancy’s chest ached; she was feeling loss too, and she couldn’t bear the thought that her little brother was feeling anything remotely similar to her own pain. He was only twelve – no twelve-year-old deserved what happened to him; he had been through far more grief than any twelve-year-old can be expected to handle. He was a good kid, and so was Eleven; they had both just been trying to help, and now Mike was heartbroken, and Eleven-

Nancy pulled him closer. He cried a little harder.

* * *

Jonathan jumped out of the car as soon as it was parked in his driveway, barely stopping to take the keys out of the ignition. Nancy followed, rushing up the porch and holding the door open for him as he carried Will’s unconscious body out of the car and into the house. Hopper’s truck was right behind them, and Nancy watched as he helped Joyce out of the car and into the house as well. She was about to follow them in when she realized Mike hadn’t gotten out of the car. Dustin, Max, and Lucas rushed into the house, Steve behind them. He paused in the doorway when he realized she wasn’t following.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, “you coming in?” She shook her head without looking at him.

“I need to check on Mike,” she whispered, descending the stairs of the porch and heading back to Jonathan’s car. She heard the front door close behind her.

She took a deep breath outside the car before opening the door and sliding into the backseat next to Mike. He didn’t react; he just stared at the seat in front of him, his eyes wide and faraway. “Hey,” she spoke gently. When she still received no response, she took his hand in hers – it was shaking. “You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question, but she had no idea what else to say. Normally she’d just be there for him, but he wasn’t crying or yelling or anything – she needed something, even just for him to squeeze her hand back. It took about a minute of silence, but he finally spoke up.

“I could hear them,” he whispered, his voice breathy and broken. She felt his grip on her hand tighten as his tears started to fall. He turned his head to look at her, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I heard those- those things-” he began saying, his own sobs cutting him off. Nancy’s heart sank into her stomach; no one had mentioned why Bob wasn’t in the car or why Mrs. Byers was sobbing, but it wasn’t too hard to fill in the gaps. Nancy thought she might be sick at the thought of her little brother witnessing that. She wanted to put her arm around him, but he had her hand in a death grip.

“Mike,” she whispered, beginning to cry herself, “I’m so sorry.” And then he was in her arms, rocking back and forth slightly while he sobbed. She rubbed her hand in circles on his back while holding him as tightly as she could, as though he might float away. He could’ve, god, it could’ve been him who’d been eaten alive by those things. And now she was really, truly crying as well. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she sobbed, not wanting to ever let him out of her sight again. “I’m so, so sorry, Mike, I’m never gonna let anything happen to you, okay?” she vowed. He pulled back to look at her and nodded.

“Y-you too,” he said, his entire body still shaking, his face red and puffy. They stared at each other for a moment before Mike started wiping his eyes. “You shou-hould p-probably go check on Jo-onathan,” he said, his words hiccupped with small sobs.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said with an air of finality. He looked at his older sister with an incredible amount of grief and fear, but also with clear gratitude before burying his face back in her shoulder. They stayed like that for what felt like an hour, but was really more like five minutes before collecting themselves and heading inside to join the others.

Just as Mike was about to open the door, Nancy stopped him. He gave her a questioning look, and she did something she hadn’t done in years: she kissed his cheek. “Agh, gross,” he complained, pulling a face. But he still squeezed her hand before going inside, and they both understood.

* * *

After making sure Joyce and Will were comfortable and safe in the backseat, Nancy climbed into the passenger seat beside Jonathan. Her eyes strayed to the Byers’ porch where Steve was standing with Lucas, Max, Dustin, and Mike. Her heart tightened as she thought about the conversation she’d just had with Steve – if you could even call it a conversation. But her heart hurt a whole lot more when she saw Mike watching El leave with tears in his eyes. She could only imagine what he was feeling right now, having just gotten her back and now having to watch her leave again. Nancy knew as well as everyone else that there was no certainty that any of the six who were leaving were coming back, and El was least likely of all to survive, excepting Will. Nancy watched her brother get smaller and smaller as she drove away, wishing desperately that she could be on that porch telling him everything was going to be okay. But Jonathan needed her, too, even more than Mike, and she knew Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Still, it broke her heart to see her little brother in so much pain when there was nothing she could do to help.

* * *

“Mom, have you seen my pink lip gloss?” Nancy called from the stairs.

“I haven’t,” her mother’s reply came from the kitchen. “Have you checked the bathroom?”

“I already did!” Nancy called back in frustration, running back up the stairs before she could hear Karen’s reply. On her way to her room, she noticed Mike’s door was open a crack. She could hear muffled sniffles coming from his room as she walked closer. The door creaked open when she knocked to reveal Mike sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. He jerked up at the sound of Nancy’s entrance. She noted the tears on his cheeks and the suit and tie lying next to him on his bed, nice and neat and definitely untouched since their mom had put them there for him. Nancy closed the door and walked further into the room. “God, Mike, I know you can’t dance, but it’s nothing to get so worked up over,” she joked lightly, taking a seat next to him.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, wiping at his cheeks.

“What’s up?” she asked gently.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled in response. Nancy just sat there, waiting until he was ready to share. He sighed eventually, still avoiding her gaze as he confessed, “I promised her I’d take her.” Nancy’s heart dropped. “I told her all about it, and I promised I’d take her, and now I can’t.” Nancy hated hearing the pain in his voice, but at least this time it was easier, because this time Nancy wasn’t useless to him; this time, Nancy knew something he didn’t, she knew she would be able to help make him feel better. Still, it sucked to see her little brother so upset. But she wasn’t about to ruin the surprise.

“I’m sure she understands,” she said. “It’s safer this way.”

“That’s all anyone ever says,” Mike answered, sadness evident in his voice though he tried to sound annoyed.

“I know,” Nancy replied softly. “But hey, you’ll have a great time with your friends! And maybe I’ll even save you a dance,” she teased.

“Ugh, gross,” Mike complained, pretending to vomit as he shoved her away. She giggled, but left the room anyway.

“Get dressed!” she called before closing the door, “Mom put a lot of thought into that outfit!” He flipped her off, a gesture she returned with a smile before returning to her search.

She gave one last look around her room, finding her lip gloss under her dresser, before taking her makeup case and slipping out of the house before Mike could see her with it.

* * *

Nancy smiled down at Dustin, nodding her head to the music as she swayed. She let her eyes linger for a moment, disappointed to see that Mike was sitting alone, staring off into space forlornly. It was upsetting, but she knew he’d be smiling soon enough. As if on cue, she watched him look toward the door, eyes wide as he jumped out of his seat. Nancy smiled to herself, watching as Mike started walking toward El. Nancy silently congratulated herself on her styling abilities, proud that El’s hair had stayed the way she’d styled it.

“Holy shit.” Dustin’s eyes had followed Nancy’s and the two of them watched as Mike took El’s hand. “Is she allowed to be here?” Dustin whispered.

“Hopper knows she’s here, and he’s outside if anything happens,” Nancy assured him, a smile on her face. Dustin’s face lit up.

“You knew about this?”

“Who do you think did her makeup?”

They glanced back over at Mike and El. They were resting their foreheads together as they swayed to the music, and Nancy’s heart soared; she hadn’t seen her little brother smile like that in such a long time.