#romancedrama

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hopper wrote a letter to Lila during the winter of '85. About growing up. About Steve. About the freedom to spread her wings. But sadly, she's only reading it now… without him.

I nod, pulling away from their arms and following her to one of the bedrooms where she had slept for the rest of the summer.

She sits down on the floor, motioning for me to do the same, handing me a letter while another one is in her hand.

- Dad wrote us each a letter... she explains, making my eyes widen in surprise. Joyce told me yours is from last winter when Steve started coming to the house at the beginning, and mine is from this summer when Mike was coming over. But I wanted us to read them next to each other...

- Of course, that's not a problem, my angel. I understand... I tell her, wrapping my arm around her. We each open our letters, taking a breath before reading them.

There's something I wanted to talk to both of you about. I know this is a difficult conversation, and it hurts me to admit it, but I care about Steve just as much as I care about you. And I know you care a lot about each other, but I think we need to set some boundaries for my sake as well as yours. I know feelings are important, especially at your age, and I...

You know what, I'm going to stop dictating Joyce's words and just be honest with you.

The truth is, I had forgotten for so long what it felt like to have demonstrative feelings. I'd been stuck in the same place. In a cave, you could say. A deep, dark cave. And I blame myself, my angel, if you only knew... I left you to fend for yourself in that trailer, taking care of me and picking up my beer cans because I had lost Sarah, but I forgot without meaning to that I had another daughter at home who needed me.

Then Will disappeared, Eleven arrived, and I started feeling things again. I started to feel happy. But lately, I suppose I feel distant from you again. As if you were drifting away from me or something like that.

Because now that this kid who smells like hair spray came into your life and into ours you don't have time for your old man anymore. How could I blame you? Your father was the same at your age. But my angel, I miss living those moments with you, playing board games every night, making mountains of waffles with El, not watching westerns anymore when I pick and watching horror movies when you do.

In a way, I was selfish trying to stop you from seeing Steve just to get those moments back with my daughter. You're not a kid anymore, damn it, you're seventeen and I have to let you fly away, even though I don't have anything to fly beside you with... I guess if I'm really honest, that's what scares me.

I don't want things to change. So I think maybe that's why I came here, to try to stop that change. To go back. To make things go back to the way they were. But I know that's naive. That's not how life works. It's moving, always moving, whether you like it or not. And yes, sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's sad. And sometimes it's surprising. Happy.

So you know what? Keep growing, kiddo. Don't let me stop you. Keep flying high in the sky with Steve, keep learning even if it's not me teaching you, keep shining, because I'll be the first one admiring it. And keep making mistakes, because I'll be the first one to catch you, because when life hurts you... and yes, it will, no matter what you do, goodbyes, arguments, bumps in the road, tears, remember that this pain, this wound, is a good thing... It means you're out of that cave.

So keep pushing me away to learn. Keep protecting everyone. But don't forget to protect yourself.

The night of your accident with the Demogorgon, Steve was covered in your blood and the first thing I wanted to do was blame him, except damn it that kid loves you the same way I do. He could die for you, and I know that might scare you, because when you suffer you prefer pushing people away so you won't hurt anyone, probably a bad habit from your very dear father... But kiddo, promise me that even if you push him away one day, because I know you will, you're too stubborn not to. Promise me you'll do everything you can to get him back, because that kid would do anything just to see you smile.

Steve, if my daughter unfortunately makes that bad decision, don't blame her. Even if she probably won't tell you, she's just terrified of dragging people into her own black hole. So show her, kid. Show her she's not a black hole. Show her she's the light. Show her she deserves happiness, that she deserves an ending worthy of a fairy tale. Show her she matters without being a burden, and most of all show her that you love her, because she'll start doubting it the second she gets too deep in her own head. I know you're the right person for her, she just needs to accept that it's good for her as much as it is for you.

But if you'll allow me to make one tiny request anyway;

Please, if it's not too much trouble, for the sake of your old man, use the front door and not the window.

I love you, and I'm proud of you.

And Steve, use less hair spray.

➤ Read the chapter on Wattpad.

Swgatspp - All-american bitch

(Find it on Wattpad!)

I've been thinking about why Filing for Love stayed with me long after finishing it.

It wasn't because of the grand romantic moments. It wasn't because the male lead was rich, powerful, or impossibly perfect.

It was because of Ki-jun.

For years, people have argued about what women want in relationships. Some say women want dominance. Others say they want a provider. Some think romance is about winning someone over.

But what struck me about Ki-jun is that he never treated love as something to conquer.

He listened.

He adjusted.

He understood.

When In-ah's past resurfaced, he didn't immediately turn possessive. When she wasn't the picture of a traditional wife, he didn't try to reshape her into one. When she struggled, he didn't make her carry the burden alone.

He simply met her where she was.

And somehow, that felt more romantic than a hundred dramatic declarations.

What I appreciate most is that the story seems to understand women from the inside. In-ah is allowed to be flawed, ambitious, guarded, confused, and independent. She isn't rewarded only when she becomes softer or more convenient. She remains herself.

And Ki-jun loves her as herself.

Not as a project.

Not as an ideal.

Not as a future version he hopes to create.

Just her.

Maybe that's why the relationship feels refreshing. It isn't built on control. It isn't built on ego. It's built on understanding.

Women are often accused of asking for too much, but dramas like Filing for Love remind me that many women aren't asking for perfection.

They're asking for partnership.

For someone who listens without judgment.

For someone who respects their freedom.

For someone emotionally mature enough to love without needing to possess.

The older I get, the more I realize that the greenest flag isn't a man who leads every room.

It's a man who makes the person he loves feel safe enough to be fully herself.

And that's what Ki-jun gave In-ah.

Maybe that's why this drama felt so different.

Bridgerton Part 2 arrived like a silk-gloved hand to the throat and said

“what if we gave you a wedding… and then emotionally waterboarded you with grief?”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Yes, yes. Benedict and Sophie get their glittering fairytale crescendo. The Queen’s Ball. The longing looks. The sweeping violins. The ring. The whole confection.

Benedict and Sophie get the fireworks in Part 2, the Queen’s Ball in full glittering delirium, the slow-burn romance snapping into place like a violin string pulled just to the edge of breaking. Critics are swooning. The chemistry is chemistr-ing. The fairytale lands exactly where it’s supposed to. Fine. Gorgeous. Applause.

But under all that satin and orchestral swelling, there’s a different temperature running through the season. Francesca’s grief isn’t staged like spectacle. It’s pressure. The show doesn’t shove it at you; it just sits in the room like unspoken bad news. And Hannah Dodd plays it with that lethal, porcelain composure where you can see the crack before you hear it. She’s not hijacking the narrative. She’s absorbing it. And I swear the camera knows it. Even in scenes that aren’t hers, it lingers like it’s testing the weight she could carry next. The way she tilts her head just slightly. The brush of a hand across her cheek. The score drops and she doesn’t move and you want to SCREAM. Tumblr is already side-eyeing this. You don’t frame a woman like that unless you’re planning to hand her the hurricane later.

She’s not taking over the ballroom. This half of the season still belongs to Benophie, all sparkle, swoon, and gowns moving slower than my heart during a cliffhanger scene. But the undercurrent is there. The potential. The seed of a story ready to bloom. You can feel it humming in the margins, quiet but insistent, like the first note of a storm you can’t yet see. If next season steps fully into that storm, Hannah Dodd is going to own it.

Benedict and Sophie got the fireworks.

Francesca got the foreshadowing.

And I am already emotionally budgeting for the possibility that next season belongs to her.

💐 Verdict: 9/10 emotionally destabilizing string quartets

🖤 Watch it if: you like your romance sweeping but your character arcs strategic

🕯 Watch it if: you believe the quietest characters are the ones with the loudest futures

I will be seated. With tea. And theories.