❝ you walk hand in hand with the
omen of death, don't you, harrington?
but, somehow, you're the only one
i can't run away from. ❞
→ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 she claims to hate him, but fate decided to prove her wrong.
or two teens who think they're nothi...
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WRAPPED IN THICK, COZY COATS, HOPPER AND JOYCE CHATTED while leaning against an old car whose color was indistinguishable due to the layer of rust covering it. She watched their untamed hair flutter in the wind, much like Aurora's heart beat anxiously, like a child waiting for her father at the school gate after a long day of classes. She walked briskly, counting down the seconds until she reached them.
The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was noon. The strong sunlight made her head ache, but the cold breeze made the warmth a welcome comfort, helping her maintain her balance.
"Training again? I want to see El on a track team as an athlete someday."
She projected her voice loudly, cutting through the shifting gusts of wind that swept across the old junkyard. --- which had become El's new secret training ground to develop her abilities. From what her father had told her, she was very dedicated—or rather, obsessed—with achieving excellent performance, which reminded him of his own little girl, Sara, now called Aurora.
As if the voice had taken its time to reach their ears, the couple was slow to turn around.
A tender smile softened Jim's features, and his eyes shone with joy as he saw his eldest daughter, for whom he had cried for her in sorrow and now often cried for her in pride and gratitude.
"My little girl," Hopper said amidst soft laughter, walking toward his daughter with excitement and wonder. "Who will soon have a badge nicer than mine. Ugh, I'm so proud of you."
She snuggled into her father's embrace, feeling his thick, rough beard scratch her forehead. The tenderness she felt in her heart whenever she hugged him was so overwhelming that it tried countless times to escape in tears.
Damn, she was turning into a crying mess. But the truth was, no matter how much love she had received from her adoptive mother, Tess, throughout her life, it was as if she had craved being wrapped in her true father's strong arms since she was little. Just like in the old days. It was a powerful sense of déjà vu that always hit her when she was with him, as if her body remembered him, even though her mind still had gaps about his presence in her childhood.
And she certainly wasn't the only one who loved those long, lingering hugs.
"Okay, dad, I'm suffocating," she murmured through chuckles, her face pressed against his chest. He ran his hand through her light hair and kissed her head.
Reluctantly, she relaxed her muscles and made some space between his arms.
"How's college? 4.0 GPA?" He held her face in his strong, rough hands.
