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xpeachesncream · 10 months

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seven with you | bands drabble (jjk)

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yours (ft. the bands!couple) | drabble seven: it’s time for jungkook’s solo debut and you have a few feelings about it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language, oc experiencing jealousy and insecurity, oc is very supportive but inevitably feels insecure and scared, kook being protective of his family as always, soft and sweet unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, making out, neck kisses, sprinkle of breast play, pls excuse any errors as i quickly whipped this up!

a/n: anon, this is for you! 💞 ironically this is my 7th drabble for the couple 😅 hehe coming back to continue feeding into all the thoughts, fantasies, etc etc because of seven promotions. much love, hope you enjoy! so sorry if i missed anyone on my perm taglist, its been so long! i’ll be back again soon 🥰

"So, what's hyung doing? Is he still at rehearsal?" Kai asks on the other line as you sit on the hotel bed, scrolling through your laptop.

"Yeah, he's still rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the video?" You chuckle a bit and shake your head as if your little brother can see you.

"Mm, no.. besides who's involved. He wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Interesting." Kai laughs. "You're going in blindly with everyone else."

"I sure am." You laugh. "But, it'll be good! I'll get to experience this with everyone. I know it'll be amazing no matter what."

"How come you didn't wanna be in the video?"

"It's not that, I just always told Kook that he shouldn't let me hinder his process. If he wants me involved, then he can get me involved. If not and he chooses to do his own thing, then I'll sit back and support as I always do."

"Truthfully, did you want to be in the video?"

"I mean.." You hum as you tilt your head to the side. "It would've been cute."

"Then, why did you say no?"

"Kai. I just.. didn't want him to feel obligated. Plus, to be frank, I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable. I think Kook could tell, and he didn't wanna force it after that. Or, maybe he just had a revelation and thought it’d be better off not involving me.” You joke.

"Nothing is better off without you, you know that. But, of course. I get everything else that you’re saying.”

"I trust his process, though. I always do."

"True." He laughs. "Okay, shoot. It's about to release." You keep your eyes on the laptop as the music video starts, keeping your brother on the line as he promised he'd watch with you. He was currently at the Choi residence while you ventured out to New York with Jungkook— supporting him from the sidelines for the beginning of his 'Seven' promotions.

You smile as you see Jungkook and Han So Hee together at the table, praising her for being so beautiful and flawless. You giggle every now and then at Jungkook, but then you start to fix on the little details;

The chase.

His effort— though a bit much that it makes you giggle, the effort is there.

The way he looks at her, waits for her at the end.

Holds her hand and walks along her side.

Maybe you should've said yes to being in the video in the first place, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. Though, she fits well. The vibe is immaculate.

Their dynamic? Strong.

Let's take a moment to be real: part of you felt a little jealous at her flawless execution, a little insecure observing how perfect she is. It seems a bit silly if you generally look at it since Jungkook was Jungkook. But, you couldn't help it. You still weren't used to it, even if you reminded yourself every day that your man was Jeon Jungkook.

Even if you reminded yourself of your story with Jeon Jungkook.

Kai is still on the phone, slightly pulling you back to reality with his comments about how 'good hyung looked in the video' and how 'they worked well together.' He must have been tiptoeing with his words, especially when he quickly flips the script and starts to mention the explicit version that still needed to be listened to.

You follow the lead, playing it on your computer while Kai sat on speaker phone. You can hear the audible gasps coming from his end, your own eyes widening at the switch in the lyrics, the sudden shift of the entire song.

Although you were incredibly proud of Jungkook for continuing to step out of his comfort zone, you felt yourself shrinking and shrinking—

Falling into the never-ending pit of insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, what if's, etc etc.,

It was past midnight. Why was rehearsal taking forever?

Felt like hours, and hours.

"The explicit version— I— Wow. There is a lot to unpack here. But, I can't even say that I'm surprised. Hyung pulls it off well. Wanna be like him some day. He just doesn't care what anybody thinks, and he's so cool." Kai laughs with Yeonjun in the background as they continue to listen to the explicit version with you. You hear a faint 'I don't think this version was meant for us' coming from Yeonjun, a small giggle leaving your lips at their commentary.

"Stop." You say just as Jungkook gives three light knocks on the door before tapping the key against the reader and swinging it open. "Hey, I'll call you back later okay? Jungkook just got back."

"Okay! Tell hyung congrats on the solo debut and that we really liked it!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too!" He says as he hangs up the call. Jungkook strolls in with a big smile on his face as he types away at his phone, small giggles leaving his lips as he approaches you on the bed.

"Babygirl." He smiles at and you places a quick kiss on your lips. "Was that Kai?"

"Yeah, it was." You give him a tiny, pursed smile. "He said congrats on the solo debut and that him and his friends really liked everything." Jungkook pauses before he responds because he's typing another message before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, thanks. That's my guy. Can always count on him." You let out a tiny laugh before avoiding his eyes, silently looking down at your laptop and letting your finger swipe across the trackpad. "You didn't have to wait up, love."

"Of course I did. I needed to catch it at release." You look up at him briefly. "How was rehearsal?"

"Fucking tiring, but we got through it. I'm excited for everyone to see the performances." He smiles and sits next to you. "So, what'd you think?"

"You two were great together, Kook. It was great.” You simply state.

"We were, weren't we? She was so helpful. And I felt at ease, like I didn't have to try much. She was such a natural at everything, it made things go by a lot smoother.”

"I can tell." You respond softly— probably a little too softly because Jungkook's smile slightly fades. Then, the thoughts start to swarm again just as you look at him. You quickly divert your attention by subtly biting onto your bottom lip, looking towards the hotel window when cars are honking their horns out on the street.

Of course, they were assumptions.

But of course, they were stupid, silly little thoughts stemming from your insecurity; occupying every corner of your brain, making you believe this skewed perception, this-whole-thing-that-is-a-thing-but-not-really-a-thing-because-there-aren't-any-facts-to-back-it-up—

"Hey." He pulls you out of your thoughts by taking your chin and making your eyes meet his own deep, brown orbs. "Talk to me, baby. I can hear you thinking. D-did you not like it? It's okay if not, you know? You can tell me. I value your opinion more than anything"

"What, no!" You shake your head. "I mean, no, of course I loved it. I loved every bit of it. It's amazing, and you know you always blow me away with everything you do." You cup his cheeks and let out a soft sigh. "I really do think you're amazing. I just.. maybe part of me kind of regrets not doing this with you?" He lets out a small breath before taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Are you saying that just because you saw her in the video?"

"Maybe? And, it did look easy. Everything looked so natural, especially for her. You two meshed well. I—I don’t know. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this anymore."

"Hm." He hums before tapping your thigh and bringing you onto his lap. You brush the hair out of his face while he wraps his arm around your waist, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Baby, you know when I told you about it, I could tell you weren't comfortable with the idea. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy."

"No, I know, Kook. It's not your fault. Trust me. It was beautiful and I really enjoyed it. I just.. felt a bit insecure especially since you didn't push on it. I thought you realized I wouldn’t work. She was way better and you totally saw that. You had this vision with her, and the thought made me feel a bit jealous too. I guess."

"I know this is easier said than done, but don't be. I love you." He brushes the hair away from your face this time. "You don't have to go out of your way to stand out or catch my attention. You don't have to prove anything to me, anyone. Plus, part of me felt kinda dumb for implying the idea knowing how it'd make you feel and how much attention it'd bring."

"What do you mean?"

"I realized it was probably better off this way simply because I didn't want people to paint this picture about us, or to assume our relationship was a certain way. I know there's already lots of things to be said about the video or the song itself, about our story— but at the end of the day, they don't know us like we know us and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Because even though the relationship is out there, it's not out there. Jungkook tries to keep things balanced, keeping things private as much as possible out of safety— to create boundaries between his professional and private life. He would always put you and Kai first, keeping your safety, your comfortability and your happiness a priority.

Over everything, anything.

The moment he felt your uneasiness while mentioning the video, he retracted. He never wanted to force you, or make you do something that was too out of your comfort zone. He didn't want to cross that line of putting too much out there because he was happy with how things were. It was enough, just enough. And that's all he needed.

You were happy, Kai was happy.

Why would he ever push and ruin that?

"You're right. I understand."

"I hope that helps put you at ease a bit, princess. You can always talk to me about it. There was really no other reason behind me not pushing the idea." He caresses your cheek. "Okay? Nothing else." He kisses your cheek, before your lips. He gently taps the side of your hips before adjusting you on his lap and having you straddle him full on. You wrap your arms around his neck while he stares at you in pure adoration, a smile painted across his lips before he speaks again— "You're my muse. You're in everything that I do, bits of you are sprinkled everywhere. Everywhere that I go, songs that I've created, lyrics scribbled on paper, doodles on my notebook— everything." His hands travel up your sides, giving them a tiny squeeze as he lets out a small exhale against your lips. "You will always be my muse."

"I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Don't be sorry." He chuckles a bit. "Everything you felt was valid, and I always want you to come to me about these things." You rest your forehead against his.

"I really did enjoy it, though. You always blow me away with everything you do." You kiss him just as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chases after your lips, large hands grazing your back as he holds you close to him.

"Mhm." You giggle before poking the tip of his nose. "And uh, the explicit version of the song— we listened to it right before you walked in."

"Cool, huh?" You laugh and shake your head.

"You're crazy."

"You know.." He smirks before biting onto his bottom lip. "Think there's a little bit more explaining I can do for that one. But, I think it'd be better if I showed you."

"Oh?" You watch as Jungkook tears his beanie off and tosses it aside. "I think that'd be good." He leans forward for another kiss— but this time, it's deep. Deep enough for Jungkook to take in a strong inhale through his nose, shakily letting out an exhale once he parts from your lips. He doesn't waste any time before he's kissing you again, tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it in. His fingers trace your bare skin underneath your shirt, tips digging into your sides again when he feels you slowly rock against him— his length growing incredibly hard beneath you.

"Yeah, it would be good. Right?" He lets out a small moan in between kisses, hissing when he feels your lips make their way down to his jaw, neck. His hands travel to the hem of the shirt you're wearing, slowly prying it off and tossing it aside. He continues to sit on the edge of the bed while you straddle him, your hands now fiddling with his shirt before he pulls it over his head and joins yours off to the side.

"You aren't tired?" You lay some lazy kisses along his throat, sucking and nipping gently on the surface while his fingers tug at the fabric of your panties.

"Nope, not anymore." You make your way back up to his lips, relishing in every kiss, every squeeze— every bit of Jungkook. Midway, he finally helps you out of your panties before shifting his sweats and boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

"You sure?" You tease as you waste no time wrapping your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while listening to him let out a few moans.

"Positive, baby. Need you." He mutters as he signals for you to sink down his length. You do as told, slowly, easily, sinking down until he completely fills you up and bites his bottom lip. "Just like that. Right where you should be."

"Feel so full already, Kook." He chuckles as he adjusts himself better on the bed, tattooed hands traveling up your back, caressing your body, as he showers your tits with kisses. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling around the hardened peak before pulling back with a pop. Just as you continue to roll against him, he takes the other— giving his tongue a little more freedom to explore before sucking and giving it a quick pop. He continues to shower your chest with feathery kisses, moving to your shoulders and arms while you continue to set the tempo.

"So good— fuck." He moans. "You're doing so good, baby." He tightens his grip around your hips as he continues to praise you. "Just like that." He repeats. You whine, lips grazing his as you work him, ride him— feeling every inch of Jungkook inside of you. The way that your walls engulf him— squeeze him— with every roll of your hips makes it hard for him to hold on. Though, he can tell you're slowly tipping over the edge.

It's the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Your inaudible, silent moans.

The way your body stiffens when you work against him, relishing every bit of his cock before repeating the rhythm.

And he's right, you are close. So close. Jungkook pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss before he slightly backs away to observe your face, you. He chases after your lips once more, biting onto your bottom lip and making you let out a moan that sounds like music to his ears.

The chase.

His effort.

The way he looks at you in pure adoration, easing you to the edge to see you in pure ecstasy.

Holding you close, keeping his hands on you at all times.

You continue picking up the pace a bit, causing enough friction against your heat. Jungkook calls your name, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as his hand rests on the nape of your neck— the other hand still on your hip. He starts to match your rhythm, your tone, thrusting upwards into you to fully tip you over the edge.

"Kook, I'm— I'm gonna— fuck." You whine as you become desperate, feeling the high settle into the pit of your gut. Finally, you tremble against him and moan loudly against him; hand squeezing his tattooed bicep, the other tangled in his black locks.

"That's it. Good girl." He caresses your back, continuing to thrust himself into you even as you try to come back down from your high. But now, he's there, and he's desperate for his own release. "You're my babygirl. You're everything to me. Everything." You moan loudly with him as he gives you one, two, powerful thrusts. "Everything that I do, everywhere I go. You're my muse. You're mine." He says against your ear, panting as he snaps his hips against you at a faster pace while holding you close; the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. It's not long before Jungkook is coming undone, the aftershocks still rippling through your body. His cheek is pressed against yours as he pants and lets out a few whines, your walls milking every last bit of him until the very end.

"Kook." You whisper. "I love you. I'm so proud of you and I love you." He laughs lazily as he rubs at your hips.

"I love you too, princess. Good enough explanation for that?"

"Maybe." You giggle as you hop off and scurry off to the bathroom for a quick shower.

"I mean.. we can do more—" He trails behind you and welcomes himself into the shower.

"Jungkook, you need to be up in 3 hours." Your voice echoes in the shower and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

"And?" He laughs. "Running on no sleep is how I work."

"You're too much." You giggle when Jungkook turns you around and wraps his arms around you.

"Baby, baby, baby." He says smugly. "There's more that I'll need to show you, especially for the album."

"Jungkook." You try to scold him but you squeal when he has you wrap your legs around him and presses your back against the tiled wall— the night only leading to more sweet nothings, praises and genuine love. Jungkook loving on you, just as you with him.

Because, you are his muse. You are in everything he does, bits of you sprinkled in everything.

No matter the circumstance. No matter the day, time, year.

You will always be his muse.

permanent taglist: @spideyjimin @miinoongi @thebeebi @ggukkieland @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine @codeinebelle @shesoldbutcute @jikookiekosmos @awhnamjoon @namjooningelsewhere @bunnybearrj @babycoffeefire @bri-mal @sintaethick @taejkjoons @love2luvya-blog @pb-n-juju @dianaxnyc @fan-ati--c @jungjoonie @jcsmae @favouritesblog @ppeachyttae @awseokjin @jjk1iscoming @moonchild1 @vantxx95 @genzslayer @knjeuphoria @jksjx @oogawooga222 @yoonqki @halesandy @chimchimmarie @chimsworldsstuff @persphonesorchid

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sattlersquarry · 8 months

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orange juice (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU) Steve's world changes in the worst way when he loses you. He struggles to move on...but he learns he might not have to when he miraculously gets a second chance with you.

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, death, grief, alcoholism, mentions of sex, mention of alcohol poisoning, and an allusion to a suicide attempt (in a miscommunication!!!! no one actually tried). the reader is presumed dead after the events of season 4. lots of angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending bc if I ever wrote something without a happy ending my identity has been stolen. inspired by "orange juice" by noah kahan with some other references to his music sprinkled throughout.

a/n: i've been bouncing between this and bloom for the past few months and they are two very different fics tonally, but i hope you enjoy. please let me know if i missed any warnings because this one is kind of heavy.

🍊🍊🍊

ORANGE JUICE

MAY 1986

A ringing phone rouses Steve from a restless sleep.

A near-empty bottle of gin rests on the floor by his bed. He doesn’t remember drinking it, nor does he remember anything else from last night.

It’s been two months since you died. Steve’s not taking it well.

That horrible day, Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran from the Creel House and found Eddie and Dustin sobbing over you, your eyes lifeless and the wounds on your abdomen weeping.

I’m so s-sorry, Steve, Dustin had said through sobs. W-we tried to save her!

An aftershock of the initial gate-opening earthquake caused panic amongst their group. Steve wanted to carry your body back to the real world for a proper burial, but there was no time before the aftershock got much too intense. Dustin and Robin refused to leave the Upside Down without him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, so despite the fact it broke his soul in half to do so, he allowed his friends to drag him back to the gate in the Upside Down’s version of the Munson trailer, leaving you behind.

When the dust settled and reality set in that Steve was going to have to move on without you, grief overtook him. He turned to alcohol as a welcome distraction. He’s been consistently ignoring Robin’s desperate pleas for him to talk to a professional, to drink less, to try and really process his pain.

Steve should listen, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll grieve. He’ll wallow. He’d rather wither away into nothing than work on bettering himself, because you died and that’s not fair. To you, to him. To everyone who loves you.

Steve groans, a deep rumbling thing from deep in chest, as he stretches and rubs sleep out of his eyes. He blindly reaches for the phone on his nightstand.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Steve, hey.”

Steve sits up like a rocket at the tremble in Robin’s voice.

“Robin? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes! But no. Sorry, I just—can you come to Hopper’s?”

“What is it?” Steve asks. He staggers to his feet, getting tangled in the phone cord. “Is it Vecna? Shit, who did he take?”

“No one!” Robin says, voice way too high to be believable. “Please just come over when you can.”

Steve drives over to their basecamp at Hopper’s cabin, a million bad scenarios racing through his head. What if Vecna cursed Dustin? Or Nancy, or any of the others?

What if somehow he got El, and the Hawkins’ team was really doomed?

It takes Steve almost forty minutes to get to Hopper’s, due to earthquake damage and military roadblocks all over town. He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

Joyce smiles at him, but her eyes are mournful.

“Hi, Steve,” she says warmly. “Please, come inside.”

This isn’t what Steve expected. Hopper, El, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin are sitting on various chairs and couches in the cabin’s main room. Usually, it’s frantic around here: everyone running around with mixtapes, weapons, and crudely drawn maps of the town with markings where the most frequent monster attacks are. It’s never this still.

When Steve and Joyce walk in, everyone looks at him, sympathy in their eyes.

Steve’s first thought: Shit, is this an intervention?

Before he can ask, Hopper says: “The gates are closed, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth twists into a frown, heart pounding in his chest. That wasn’t the plan.

“Wait, what? How?”

“We’re not sure,” Joyce says. “But Will—”

“I can’t feel Vecna anymore,” Will explains. “And El checked this morning, and she found Vecna in the Void and…”

“He’s gone,” El says quietly. “Dead. Finally.”

Steve sinks onto a couch cushion. That should be good news. Steve should be celebrating, toasting to the death of the bastard that ruined his life and took you away by way of the demobats. But—

“We were supposed to go back,” Steve says. The back of his throat burns when he swallows hard, trying to choke down the sensation of nausea that’s either from his hangover or his panic. Or both. “We were going to go back and get Y/N’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan says, looking down at his feet.

Steve whirls to Hopper, eyes blazing with a flash of anger that never seems to leave him these days.

“You promised!” he yells. “You promised that we’d go back for her!”

“I know,” Hopper says, keeping his voice even. “But something—or someone—killed Vecna in the Upside Down and the gates closed. The fight is done. It’s over.”

Steve’s lip wobbles. He won’t cry in front of them. He won’t. But his head spins.

“What am I going to tell her parents?” Steve says, voice cracking.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” Nancy says. She reaches a hand to touch his shoulder and Steve bats it away. “Steve—”

“This is such bullshit,” Steve snaps, turning to Hopper again. “If you had let me go back down there before, I could have brought her body back. We could’ve given her a proper funeral. Given her parents closure! But you made me wait!”

“It was the right choice,” Hopper says firmly. “I didn’t want to invoke another Vecna attack on Hawkins until we were ready to fight.”

“Maybe there’s a gate that we missed and—”

“We checked the gates this morning,” Robin says softly. “They’re all closed.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But it’s over.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He storms out of the cabin, ignoring Robin’s pleas to come back, to not be alone right now. Steve drives back home, not without stopping at the liquor store first and loading up on various spirits to numb the pain.

Over the next week, you go from declared missing to officially declared dead. Steve can’t let on to your parents that he had known for months, and Hopper doesn’t want him to tell them the truth about Vecna, demobats, and the Upside Down. It kills Steve to lie to their faces, to attend the funeral where they bury an empty casket, knowing what he knows. Knowing that your body is trapped in another dimension. Dead and alone.

🍊🍊🍊

NOVEMBER 1986

“Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

Robin’s words echo in Steve’s mind hours after she’s fallen asleep in the uncomfortable armchair next to his hospital bed.

An overindulgence forced Steve to spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital—not that he had any plans with his family to get ruined anyway. Although he had been invited to Thanksgiving with the Buckleys, Wheelers, Hopper-Byerses, Sinclairs, Hendersons, Mayfields, and Munsons, Steve declined every invitation. He resigned himself to a holiday alone without you, got heavy handed with a bottle of whiskey, and passed out in the neighbor’s lawn.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital. Joyce and Robin were there, the former fretting over him and the latter chewing him out for being such a dingus and scaring her so badly on a holiday.

Like a broken record in his head of the worst song Steve’s ever heard: Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this.

Robin didn’t say it to be mean. She said it to get him to wake up. To cool it with the drinking, because if he kept going at the rate he was going, he’d meet a worse fate than a pumped stomach.

Joyce quietly reenters the room and smiles.

“Oh, you’re still up!” she says. “I thought for sure you’d try to get some sleep.”

Steve shrugs.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up.”

Joyce settles on the chair next to Robin’s, ignoring the sleeping girl’s loud snores.

“When I can’t stop replaying the past in my mind,” Joyce says, “I try to think about my future instead. What are my aspirations and goals? What can I do differently to achieve them?”

Steve chews his bottom lip.

“Is it bad if I have no goals?” he says, feeling quite sorry for himself.

“Why do you think that is?” Joyce asks gently.

Steve shrugs again, before rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the past 3 years on edge thinking I’m going to get killed at any minute?”

Steve barks out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe it’s because 2 years ago I met someone who turned my life completely around, and she did get killed, and I wasn’t there to save her or be with her when she died. And I couldn’t give her or her parents a proper end and every time I close my eyes, I see her laying there. And I don’t know what my future looks like without her. I don’t even think I want one.”

Steve hates crying in front of other people. But when Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, he breaks down.

“It’s going to be all right, Steve,” she says. She squeezes him a little tighter. “I know it’s hard moving on from loss, but you do have a future. You have so many people that love you and are going to help you figure it out. And Y/N would want you to keep going. She’d want you to go off and do wonderful things.”

Joyce was right. If roles were reversed, Steve would want you to keep going without him. Not waste away and drink yourself into a coma.

Steve’s life is changing. And despite everything, things might be looking up.

🍊🍊🍊

FEBRUARY 1987

There is a beautiful girl in Steve’s bed and she’s touching him all the ways he likes to be touched—but he can’t even enjoy it because she’s not you.

He tries to clear his mind of all distraction. The girl with him—Molly—is very, very hot. And the feeling of her hands all over him should be sufficient to keep him focused on the moment. But his mind keeps wandering to you.

You were the last person he was truly intimate with. Sure, he’s kissed girls at parties. But that’s different than what’s happening now. Different than being in bed with Molly and her wandering hands, her gentle touches, her salacious whispers.

Steve thinks maybe he’s finally done it. Found a girl that can help him move on from you, the girl to help him feel whole again. To not feel so alone.

But then, overcome with sensation, Steve makes the worst possible faux pas in bed: he moans the wrong name.

Molly ceases kissing him.

“What did you just call me?” she asks, sitting up suddenly with narrowed eyes.

Steve sits up as well, resting against his headboard and floundering for a response that won’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I just, uh, well—”

“Who is she?” Molly asks. She widens her eyes in horror. “Oh my god, are you seeing someone else? Am I ‘the other woman’?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve rushes to assure her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment thinking of someone else when I was about to blow you!” Molly snaps. She stomps off the bed and grumbles as she pulls her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Wait, hold on!” Steve says. He struggles to put a pair of sweatpants on, hopping around frantically one-footed to pull them up as Molly grabs her purse and yanks open Steve’s bedroom door. “Please don’t leave, Y/N—ah, Molly!”

“Unbelievable!” Molly scoffs as she stomps down the staircase of the townhome Steve shares with three other students at the University of Indiana.

Molly gets to the front door but stops, whipping around to face Steve as he catches up to her.

“Who is she?” she demands. “An ex-girlfriend?”

“In a sense, yeah, but—”

“If you’re still so hung up on her, maybe you should ask her to blow you instead!”

Steve thinks about being an asshole. About letting the anger that simmers in his bloodstream 24/7 rear its ugly head. About snapping at Molly, telling her that yeah, totally, he’d love to get a blowjob from a corpse stuck in an alternate dimension.

But then Molly would feel bad and give him the pitying look Steve hates. So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you in class.”

Molly huffs before giving Steve’s cheek a sharp smack! He doesn’t wince. Upset at his lack of reaction, Molly storms out.

Just as well. Remembering how the love of his life is dead is a real mood killer.

Steve rubs his forehead and heads to the kitchen. He eyes the six pack in the fridge. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three months. The temptation causes his hand to graze a beer can, but he quickly pivots to a cartoon of orange juice.

He chugs the drink before stalking up the steps to his room. Steve drops to his knees and blindly reaches in the dusty space under his bed. He grips the corner of a box and drags it to the middle of the floor.

Once opened, two black button eyes stare back up at Steve. It’s Lambchop, a stuffed animal lamb that your parents gave him. After your parents held a small funeral and buried that empty casket, they gave Steve this box of your things.

Lambchop here was her favorite toy, your mother had said at the time, eyes glistening with tears. She always hoped to pass it on to her own children one day. I think she’d want you to have it.

Steve thanked your mother and father, gave his condolences, went home, drank enough whiskey to fell a horse, and passed out.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Steve climbs onto the bed and places the lamb on the pillow next to him. It’s one of few connections to you that he has left, so he’ll cherish it, even if it’s a little silly.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that in another dimension, the very person he’s yearning for lays in the version of her bedroom created by the Upside Down, holds a dirty version of Lambchop, and yearns for Steve right back.

🍊🍊🍊

MAY 1987

You and Steve used to have your futures mapped out: start at U of I together in fall of ’86. Move in together after your freshman year of college. Get engaged by fall of ’89, married in fall of ’90, and have two kids by ’95. Spend the rest of your lives together, happy and healthy, with the horrors of Hawkins far behind you.

That was before Steve’s world changed in the worst way. Before you died in the Upside Down, when you drew the bats away from the gate. You were a hero, trying to keep them from flying into your version of Hawkins and destroying it.

Steve struggled for a long time. He’s still struggling, but in a slightly better place.

He’s sober six months now. He thinks of you often, but he tries to focus less on how he desperately misses you and more on how you wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life miserable and drunk.

But he does miss you so, so desperately. And he would give anything to have you back.

It hurts being reminded of you, so Steve stays away from Hawkins. But he can’t say no when Mrs. Henderson invites him to Dustin’s sweet sixteen birthday party, so he makes the trek back.

“Steve!” Mrs. Henderson coos, opening the front door with a beaming smile. “Welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve says. She pulls him into a hug and he adds, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s so lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Henderson says. She leads Steve through the house. “Please, come in! You can put Dusty-Bun’s gift on the dining room table. I have strawberry wine in the kitchen—ah, and orange juice, or lemonade. It’s yours if you want it!”

Mrs. Henderson pivoted to juice awfully fast. She must have found out about Steve’s Thanksgiving Break bender. Steve tamps down the feeling of shame worming its way through his mind and body, instead offering her another small smile before turning to the dining room to drop off Dustin’s gift.

Dustin and the rest of the Hellfire Club are in the den, playing a one-shot campaign that Eddie planned. When Dustin sees Steve, his face lights up.

“Steve! You made it!” he says, rushing over and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey buddy,” Steve says, hugging him back. “Happy birthday, Henderson.”

Dustin grins, and it lifts Steve’s mood immensely.

Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, and Erica greet him next, along with Eddie and his Corroded Coffin buddies. Eddie can barely look Steve in the eye, guilt from not being able to save you eating away at him. Steve’s told him multiple times not to feel bad about it—he knows Eddie and Dustin tried their best.

“Want to join the campaign?” Dustin asks Steve.

“Oh, I don’t know how to play,” Steve says. “I’ll just watch, okay bud?”

A short while later, Robin arrives. Once the campaign ends, Mrs. Henderson brings out the cake, and then gifts are opened.

“He looks really happy, huh?” Robin whispers to Steve, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Steve nods with a smile. Dustin took your death really hard—the two of you had been close ever since you helped him, Steve, Lucas, and Max fight the demodogs in the junkyard. Seeing Dustin smiling and laughing with his closest friends on his birthday makes Steve really, really happy.

Still, Steve’s heart aches. You should be here. You should be smiling as Dustin opens his gifts. You should be getting cake frosting on your nose, playing along with the campaign although you have no clue what’s going on.

Ice grips Steve’s chest. He gets a flashback of you lying on the cold ground, unmoving, and—

“You okay?” Robin whispers, brow furrowed. How the hell can she tell that he’s upset? It’s frightening how observant she is.

“Fine,” Steve says, throat tightening. He’s not. But he isn’t going to let his grief ruin Dustin’s big day.

At the end of the night, Dustin asks Steve when he’ll be back to visit again.

“My summer classes end in August,” Steve says. “I’ll come by then. Maybe we can hit the pool?”

Dustin seems disappointed that it’ll be a while before he sees Steve again, but he doesn’t push.

However, Steve ends up coming back to Hawkins much sooner. Three weeks after Dustin’s birthday party, Eleven calls Steve and tells him something that makes his heart stop:

“Steve, it’s about Y/N.”

🍊🍊🍊

Steve is a frantic mess.

He sits in the Byers-Hopper basement, knee bouncing as he intently watches El try to find you in the Void again.

El had told him that she’d sometimes look for you in the Void, hoping to give him some semblance of closure. However, she claims that a few hours ago, she finally found you for the first time and saw you not as a corpse, but fully alive. It’s a hope that Steve didn’t dare hold onto before, not until now.

As soon as she called, Steve got in his car and drove to Hawkins, going ten over the speed limit the whole time. He picked up Robin and Nancy along the way to El, Will, and Jonathan’s, and (unfortunately) Mike tagged along.

“Do you see her?” Steve asks, voice cracking.

“No talking, please,” El says, tightening her blindfold.

Steve purses his lips. Will gives him an apologetic smile and Robin squeezes his arm to offer a semblance of comfort. Jonathan looks between Steve and El, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I see her,” El whispers after a few minutes.

Nancy gasps. Mike’s eyes widen. Steve staggers to his feet.

“She’s okay?” Steve asks. “Where is she?!”

“I can’t tell,” El says. “But she’s holding a small, white fuzzy animal. Wait, is it dead?”

“Lambchop,” Steve says.

“Come again?” Nancy asks.

“Lambchop is her favorite stuffed animal,” Steve explains. His heart pounds in his chest at the realization that holy shit, you really are alive. “She must be in the Upside Down version of her house.”

“Y/N!” El calls. “Y/N!”

After a few more minutes of calling to you, El pulls off the blindfold and wipes her nosebleed away.

“She can’t hear me,” El says with a sigh.

“Maybe because the gates are closed,” Nancy offers.

“But if you open another gate,” Steve says, “we can get back through and find her. Right?”

“Hold on a minute,” Jonathan says, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “Is that such a good idea?”

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Is it such a good idea to save my girlfriend’s life? Yeah, I think so, Byers.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Relax?” Steve says, voice rising in volume with every word. “Relax?! You want me to relax? What about this fucked-up situation is relaxing! My girlfriend has been stuck in literal hell for over a fucking year! We’re going to rescue her, no matter what!”

“But opening a new gate could have major repercussions!” Mike protests.

“Screw the repercussions,” Steve snaps, glowering. “We can’t just leave Y/N down there to rot!”

“None of us want to do that, Steve,” Nancy says, keeping her voice level and calm. “But what if this is a trick from Vecna?”

“It’s not,” Will says. “If it was, I would feel his presence. I don’t anymore.”

“Boom!” Robin says, snapping her fingers. “If our human monster detector doesn’t sense any bad vibes, then we should be good to proceed.”

“Maybe we should ask El what she wants to do before we make any plans to open new gates,” Jonathan points out.

“Exactly,” Mike says. “El, what do you want to do?”

El looks down at her lap, before looking up. She locks eyes with Steve.

“I’ll do it. I’ll open the gate.”

Relief floods Steve’s whole being. He feels lighter. More hopeful than he has in a long time. But it all comes crashing down when—

“That’s not happening.”

The group turns to see Hopper and Joyce on the basement steps. Joyce looks worried, face twisted into a frown. Hopper looks angry, with his brow furrowed.

“But Dad—” El says.

“No buts,” Hopper says. “You are forbidden to open a new gate. You hear me?”

Joyce places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and says, “Now, Hop…”

Steve interrupts, walking over to the older man with a wild, panicked look in his eyes. “Hopper, please. Y/N is still alive in the Upside Down. We just need one gate so I can go through and bring her back. Please.” Hopper fixes Steve with a sorrowful stare, the smallest bit of guilt etched on his features. Still, he remains steadfast.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper says. “I’m not putting my daughter at risk. She won’t do it.”

El, Robin, and Will all try to convince Hopper otherwise, their arguments overlapping into a cacophony. Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan share uneasy looks.

Steve can’t listen to this anymore. He quietly excuses himself, darting past Hopper up the steps and stepping into the backyard.

He sinks on the porch stoop and stares off into the quiet, cool night. He understands Hopper’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s spent over a year mourning you, only to discover he might be able to get you back—for that hope to be dashed as quickly as it blossomed.

Steve picks a point in the tree line and focuses on it, putting all his energy into watching it so he doesn’t break down or cause any more of a scene than he already has.

He hears the squeak of the back door and Robin’s tentative, “Hey, how you doing?”

Steve shrugs absentmindedly, continuing to stare. Robin lowers herself onto the stoop next to him.

For a few blissful minutes, she doesn’t speak. She just rests her head on his shoulder and lets him stew in silence.

The spell is broken when she blurts out, “You’re not going to break your sobriety, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Steve grumbles, nudging her slightly so she’ll sit up. “You don’t have to ask that every time I’m in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” she says. She picks at her fingernails. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I worry about you too.”

“Me?” Robin says. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Steve eyes the way her hands fidget. Before he can say anything, she blurts out, “I just don’t want a repeat of Thanksgiving. I mean, you almost died of alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach!”

“I know. I was there.”

“No!” Robin snaps, sounding awfully harsh despite the tears welling in her eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart to see. “You were unconscious! And it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, including all the torture and monsters, because I thought I was going to lose another best friend. I already lost Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

She sniffles and Steve pulls her in for a hug. He can’t stop a few stray tears from falling down his own face as well.

“You won’t lose me,” Steve says, voice thick. “I promise, Robin. I’m not going to do that again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles, hugging him tighter. “I love you, dingus.”

“I love you, Rob.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin says, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “You have to call me a mean nickname back or I just look like an asshole.”

Steve barks out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You are an asshole.”

“Perfect,” Robin says with a small smile. “Now we’re equally jerks. Just the way I like it.”

The back door opens and Will steps out.

“Hopper changed his mind!” he says with a grin.

Hope pumps like blood through Steve’s cold, shrunken heart. He’s going to see you again. Fuck, he’s going to see you again.

🍊🍊🍊

The next day, the group stands in the basement once more, this time making their plan for a rescue mission. Mike squealed to Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Max about what’s going on, and they all showed up wanting to help too.

“Not happening!” Hopper barks, a fierce look on his face. “New rule: you have to be 18 to come along.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, thrilled that he gets to come and try to make things right after losing you the first time. The younger teens grumble.

“But El is going!” Dustin complains.

“El is going to stay in the Lab with Joyce,” Hopper says. “She’ll open the gate for us and wait.”

“I can keep the gate open for one hour,” El says.

“That’s plenty of time to find Y/N!” Robin says brightly. “We already know she’s probably at her house.”

“And she lives close to Hawkins Lab,” Jonathan says, pointing to a map of Hawkins. “So we’ll be in and out.”

“It’ll be easy!” Eddie says.

“Don’t jinx it,” Hopper warns.

Nancy turns to Steve and pats his shoulder.

“You feeling good about this?” she asks quietly.

He nods. Although, truthfully, he’s terrified. If they come all this way, only for him to lose you again…he’s not sure he’d be able to handle that.

🍊🍊🍊

The Upside Down is not what Steve remembers.

The alternate dimension used to be dank and cold, like an endless winter’s night. Now with Vecna gone, it’s brighter, with a yellow sky and actual green foliage, not the moldy, dry shit from before. It seems less dangerous than last time.

No matter how much it’s changed, the thought that you’ve been here alone for over a year makes Steve’s blood run ice cold.

“This way!” Hopper barks, tracing his finger on his map of Hawkins and leading the group toward your house.

Jonathan and Nancy walk side-by-side with Hopper, glancing around at the tree lines constantly for any sign of danger. Eddie and Robin hang back, Steve walking slightly in front of them. He hears them whispering about something, but when he turns his head to try and listen, they quiet down.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what they’re worrying about: if they can’t find you, will Steve have another breakdown? Go on another bender? Would Steve even survive it?

Steve’s been wondering the same things himself. But for now, he stays positive, his optimism increasing tenfold when the six of them turn onto your street.

He can’t help but pick up speed, jogging past Hopper and causing the older man to snap, “Hey, stay behind me!”

Steve ignores his protests, shouting your name and pushing through the front door of your house.

He’s been here many, many times. He’s walked the pathway from your front door to your bedroom over and over again. Steve walks that path for the first time in over a year, charging up the steps and tuning out the concerned warnings from his friends.

He bursts into your bedroom, calling your name. He doesn’t see you, but maybe you hid when you heard the front door open. So he checks the closet, the ensuite bathroom, under the bed, to no avail.

Steve’s eyes sweep the space for any clues of your whereabouts. Most of the room seems untouched, except for your bed, where the sheets are rumpled and a grimy Lambchop the Stuffed Lamb sits primly on your pillow with her soft hooves crossed over her lap.

Steve picks up the toy, heart stuttering at the sight. You were sleeping here last night. You must have been. But where are you now?

“Steve!” Robin calls from down the hall, bringing him back to the present. “We found something!”

Steve gently places Lambchop back on the pillow—arranging her the way you always do, because anything else seems disrespectful—and heads back downstairs.

Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin are crowded around the kitchen table. On it is a sheet of paper with a rudimentary sketch of the town.

“Check it out,” Jonathan says. He traces his finger across the drawn lines. “It’s a record of where the gates originally opened.”

Sure enough, there are big stars drawn over Hawkins Lab, Eddie’s trailer, the road by the trailer park, Lover’s Lake, and the Creel House.

“That’s why she’s not here,” Nancy says. “She’s out searching for an opening.”

“We don’t have long,” Hopper barks, glancing at his watch with a grimace. “El can only keep the gate open for an hour. We have forty-one minutes to get back to the Lab.”

“We could split off into teams,” Nancy says. “Jonathan and I can go to Lover’s Lake.”

“Steve and I will hit the trailer park and the highway,” Robin adds. “Eddie and Hop, you can go to the Creel House.”

“We find Y/N,” Hopper says, “and we head back to the Lab. No wasting time. We move fast, we stay vigilant. Got it?”

The younger adults all nod and agree to stay on their walkies in case anyone needs to get in touch. Then, they split off to their destinations.

As Steve and Robin sprint toward the trailer park, Steve can’t stop panic from enveloping him head to toe. What if they’re too late? What if you’re dead—again? What if you don’t remember him somehow. What if—

“Look!” Robin says, throwing out an arm to stop Steve in his tracks. He skids to a stop and sees where she’s pointing.

Behind the closed curtains of the Munson trailer is the beam of a flashlight moving around. Steve’s heartbeat quickens.

“Okay,” she whispers as the duo slinks toward the trailer. “We need to think about this carefully, and make a plan to—wait, Steve!”

He charges into the trailer.

A figure flinches and whips around, hunting knife raised. Steve almost falls to his knees in shock at the sight. It’s really happening.

“Steve?” you whisper, voice cracking. He stands in front of you, hands raised and eyes flicking between your face and your knife. The corners of his eyes burn, tears starting to form.

He says your name, and the look on your face cracks his heart into seventeen pieces. He starts to step toward you, but—

“You’re not real,” you say quietly. “You can’t be.”

“No, I’m real!” Steve says. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Steve. We’re here to take you home.”

You step back, still pointing your weapon at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says. He steps back, slowly.

“Steve!” Robin shouts from outside. “What’s going on in—”

“Stay outside, Robin!” Steve yells, voice wavering as he eyes your knife.

“But—”

Steve swiftly locks the trailer door without turning away from you.

The two of you ignore Robin’s knocks and protests. Eventually, she gives up, and Steve hears the crackle of her walkie-talkie.

“You can’t be Steve,” you say, shaking your head frantically.

“I am,” Steve begs. “And I’ve missed you so much—”

“You can’t be Steve because there’s no way into the Upside Down!” you say. He notices your arm start to shake. “Trust me, I’ve checked and checked and checked and there’s no gates anymore. And since my Steve isn’t a corpse at the Creel House, I know Vecna didn’t kill him and he’s back in the real world. If you’re not Steve, who the hell are you?”

Steve swallows hard. The back of his throat tastes acidic and he feels desperation wrench its way through every cell in his body. When he imagined his reunion with you, he didn’t anticipate this conversation.

“El reopened a gate for us,” Steve explains patiently. “We thought you were dead. But El looked for you and saw you were still alive, so we came to rescue you.” He glances at his watch and his brows furrow. “But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to head back to the Lab because she can’t keep it open forever.”

“How can I trust you?” you say. “How do I know you aren’t a trick?!”

“I’m really me, I promise,” Steve says. He hesitates before stepping closer to you once more. This time, you don’t move away. “We’re safe now, because Vecna’s dead.”

“I know. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.

“You what?”

“I had to,” you say. You shrug and look a little delirious. How much sleep have you gotten in the last year, Steve wonders. “Vecna brought me back. He would've flayed me and sent me to spy on and kill all of you if I didn’t kill him first.”

Steve almost falls over. The haunting fact that you had to fight Vecna alone makes his stomach turn.

The pained look on Steve’s face seems to shake something deep down in you. Any resolve you had crumbles. You heave out a sob, dropping the knife to the ground. Your knees buckle.

In seconds, Steve wraps you in his arms as you sink to the ground.

You cry, limp in his hold. Steve cries too, choking on encouraging words and apologies and everything he’s wanted to say to you since March 1986, when he thought he’d never speak to you again.

The door rattles. You startle and Steve holds you a little tighter.

“HARRINGTON!” Hopper barks. “Get a move on!”

“We have to go,” Steve says, urgent yet gentle. “We can talk more when we’re home. Okay?”

You nod, standing on unsteady legs.

Steve squeezes your hand before leading you out the door.

The whole rescue squad is out there, and you look wholly overwhelmed at seeing everyone after so long alone.

“No time for pleasantries,” Hopper says. “We’ve got less than twenty minutes to get through that gate.”

“Or it’s a slumber party at Y/N’s,” Eddie jokes. He playfully knocks his shoulder against yours and you gasp at the sudden contact. “Oh, sorry—”

“RUN!” Hopper yells, clapping his hands.

Everyone bolts toward the Lab. Steve and you run side-by-side, hands intertwined.

Shock envelops Steve’s senses, but he keeps running. The one thing racing through his mind is to get you back to safety.

The Lab’s gate is not the gaping maw it once was. It’s about the height of a minivan door, but its width is quite smaller—and slowly but surely shrinking.

El and Joyce stand on the gate’s other side, looking relieved to see everyone.

“Hurry!” Joyce says, waving you forward first. You hesitate, but Steve says, “We’re right behind you. Go on.”

You crawl through the gate and stumble to your feet on the right side of the universe. Steve would normally let everyone else go in front of him, but he wastes no time following behind you. Next comes Robin, then Jonathan and Nancy. Eddie and Hopper bring up the rear.

As soon as Hopper’s crawled through the gate, El drops her hand and it sews itself up—for the final time.

Steve and the others swarm you, all speaking too fast and asking a million questions. Joyce opens a first-aid kid and tries to sit you down and asses your various cuts and bruises. They hurt Steve to see.

“Look at her! She needs more than bandaids and alcohol wipes,” Eddie says, nodding in your direction.

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “Mom, we need to take her to the hospital—”

“No!” you say. You stumble toward the staircase. “I need to go home. I need to see my parents, let them know I’m alive. How long have I been down there? I’ve been keeping track, and it has to be at least ten weeks, right?”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. You look at him, eyes wild. “Y/N,” he says softly, “it’s been 15 months.”

That seems to be your final straw. Steve catches you as you pass out.

🍊🍊🍊

SIX HOURS LATER

While you get checked over by Dr. Owens and his people, Steve paces the hospital waiting room. Robin chews her thumbnail and watches the doors to the ER. Nancy and Jonathan bend their heads together and whisper, and Eddie attempts to distract Dustin and the other teenagers by juggling snacks from the vending machine.

After you fainted, Steve didn’t want to leave your side, but Hopper said everyone except himself and Joyce had to go home.

If our entire merry band shows up at Hawkins Mercy Hospital with a presumed-dead girl, it’ll look too damn suspicious, Hopper had said. Go home. Clean up. Wait three hours, and then you can come check on her. We’ll keep you updated.

In exactly 180 minutes, Steve and the others charge into the ER asking the nurse on duty about you.

“She’s still being looked over,” the nurse tells them. “Her parents and the Chief are with her now. You can wait over there and we’ll call you when she’s able to have visitors.”

Another 180 minutes go by. Now, everyone’s getting antsy. Steve has half a mind to charge into the ER and find you himself.

“Simmer down, Steve,” Robin says, noticing the way he’s squeezing the lilac teddy bear he bought you at the gift shop. “You’re choking the life out of that thing.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from Hopper?” Steve asks. He checks his pager for the fiftieth time. “He said he’d keep us updated.”

“She’s probably going through a psych eval or something,” Max says.

“Or an interrogation,” Mike says darkly. “Maybe they think she had something to do with the murders last year.”

“Shut up, Mike!” Nancy hisses.

Steve curses and pinches his nose. Last year, a cruel man named Colonel Sullivan swept into Hawkins, searching for the real culprit behind Vecna’s kills after Eddie was proven innocent (thanks to a bogus alibi cooked up by Owens’ team). Steve was one of the unlucky few questioned, due to his connection as Jason’s former basketball captain. The thought of you, disoriented from so long in that shithole, handcuffed to a hospital bed while Sullivan grills you makes him see red.

Another sinking realization hits Steve: he’s changed since last year. What if you don’t like him anymore, once you realize how much of a mess he became when he lost you?

Hopper emerges through a set of double doors. Steve’s charging over to him in seconds, the rest of his friends piling behind and all talking at once.

Hopper holds up his hands to silence the group.

“Owens wants to run some more tests,” Hopper says. “They’re checking for contaminants in her bloodstream. You all can see her soon.”

He points at Steve. “Except she’s asking for you right now. You ready?”

Steve nods and squeezes your new teddy bear again. He gives Robin a panicked look, and she gives him a quick hug.

“Go get her,” Robin says with an encouraging smile.

Steve smiles back before following Hopper down the hall. Joyce stands outside your hospital room and smiles when she sees Hopper and Steve approach. Steve freezes.

Through the plane of glass in the door, he sees you with your parents. All three of you are crying.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Steve says, backing away from the door. Before he can fully chicken out, Hopper bursts in and says, “Hey, look who came by.”

You and your parents look up. At the sight of him, your mother and father beam.

“Hello, Steve!” your mother says, sweeping him into a hug. “Can you believe she’s back?!”

“It’s a goddamn miracle,” your dad says, wiping tears on his sleeve. “We’ve been praying for this for so long.”

“Let’s leave these two alone to catch up,” Joyce says. “Grace, Roger, why don’t we pick up some food for Y/N?”

Your parents agree and step out with Joyce and Hopper. When it’s just you and Steve, all either of you can do is stare at each other with awkward smiles.

You clear your throat and point to the teddy bear.

“Is that little guy for me?”

“Yes!” Steve says. “Uh, sorry.”

He hands it to you. When your fingers brush, it feels electric. Still, after so long apart—no matter how much he’s dreamed of what it would be like if he somehow saw you again—everything feels stiff. You’re the love of his life and he can’t think of one thing to say.

“How have you been?” you ask quietly, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Steve.

Steve can’t help but laugh and says, “Terrible. I mean, shit. I know what you went through is way worse—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you say sharply. Steve recoils and you wince. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I’ve been through this like five times with Owens’ guys, and over a cover story two more times with the cops. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. What’s been going on?”

Steve wants to know more about what happened. About how you killed Vecna. About how you survived. But he doesn’t. He would never push you to discuss anything you didn’t want to, but he hopes that one day you’ll feel ready to open up to him.

Right now, you want to hear about his life. Where to begin. Steve thinks of sugar-coating the truth but doesn’t when he admits: “For starters, I almost died last year.”

You gasp and sit up a little straighter.

“What? Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’m fine now,” Steve says, waving away your concerns.

“Was it Vecna?”

“No, nothing like that. I really missed you, and I was in a bad place.”

You swallow hard, eyes turning glassy.

“Oh, Steve. Please don’t tell me you tried to—”

“No!” he says quickly. “It was alcohol poisoning. I drank too much being too lonely on Thanksgiving. Had to get my stomach pumped. It wasn’t all bad, though. Robin and I watched ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving’ on the hospital room TV and Joyce snuck in some pie for me.”

You ignore his attempts and lightening the mood and wave him even closer to you. He cautiously approaches and intertwines your fingers when you reach for his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Stop it.”

“Steve…”

“No!” Steve says. He shakes his head vehemently. “Don’t think like that. I just…struggled without you. But it’s not your fault that I’m a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case,” you say. You squeeze his hand. “You’re the hero that crossed dimensions to come rescue me.”

You kiss his palm before scooching over on the hospital bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“What if your parents come back?” Steve asks.

“I’m not trying to hook up right now,” you say with an eye roll. “I just want you to lay with me.”

Steve is happy to oblige. He settles next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder and hug the teddy bear he brought you.

“So, you didn’t move on?” you ask quietly after a few minutes of peaceful silence. “Find a new girlfriend?”

“What?!” Steve asks, looking down at you, jaw dropped. “You really think I found someone else?”

You nod, fidgeting with the bow around your bear’s neck.

“15 months is a long time,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stand in the way if you're with someone else.”

“I couldn’t,” Steve says. He rests a hand on your knee cautiously. When you don’t flinch or move away, he keeps it there. “Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, if you’ll still have me.”

You look up at him, noses practically brushing. The close proximity makes Steve’s cheeks flush rosy pink.

“You mean that?” you ask.

Steve nods. It seems to placate you, because in seconds, you’re lifting your chin to kiss him.

It’s a soft, gentle thing. An innocent brush of lips, like the kisses you shared very early in your relationship. Not the passionate “welcome home” kiss that Steve wants to give you, but he understands if you need to take things slow. He’ll move as slow as you need.

For the first time in months, Steve feels hopeful about his future again. Steve’s world is changing once more, in all the right ways.

🍊🍊🍊

EPILOGUE

You and Steve have your futures mapped out: after six months of physical and emotional healing, move in with Steve and join him at U of I in spring of ’88. Get engaged and subsequently married sometime within five years. No kids—at least, not biological ones, because your time in the Upside Down has caused lasting physiological effects that you don’t want to pass on to children. Maybe you’ll adopt a kid, or some dogs.

It's less of a map and more of an amorphous outline of what you two want to happen. All you two know for sure is that you never want to be apart that long ever again.

Steve’s heart and soul have changed, but they belong to you, and yours to him. Always.

🍊🍊🍊

a/n please lmk what you thought 🧡

tag list; @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @tvandfanfic @a-dealwith-god @stevebabey @keerysquinn @spoookysix @inkluvs

#st fic: oj #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic

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colonelarr0w · 2 months

Note

Yay requests time!

Can we get bratty!mean!reader with simp/lover boy yuuta or yuuji? Like, reader is always rolling her eyes or ordering him around and he just looks at her with heart yes and does as she wants. But obviously, everyone has their limits so sometimes they need to reel her back in and let her know that's nothing you treat someone that you love and loves you even more.

i dont know if you can tell but I'm getting brain rot about this and it's all I'm thinking about every night.

Sypnosis - How would !Loverboy Yuuji fare with a girlfriend who quite literally would step on him?

Warning(s) - foul language, mention of canon violence, Reader is kind of a bitch (but she does a 180 I promise)

A/N - !Loverboy Yuuji enjoyers rise up, I crafted this just for y'all.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

To be fair, when Yuuji falls in love, he falls in love hard. Loving Yuuji is the equivalent of adopting a golden retriever that will be perpetually stuck to your side in any given circumstance. And that means any circumstance — including if you’re working to exorcise a spirit. Yuuji just wants — or rather needs — to be by your side no matter what.

Yuuji is also the kind of person to blindly follow orders. He doesn’t really have any regards for any consequences that may follow his actions — which has definitely resulted in multiple visits to Shoko. That, of course, includes any and all orders that you give him.

Obviously, your “orders” aren’t as dire as, say, instructions given by Gojo before he sends Yuuji on a mission. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll show even an ounce of thought or hesitance. He does — quite literally — anything and everything for you. That includes carrying your backpack, carrying your bags when you shop, cutting your food when you have dinner together, tucking you in when you have move nights, buttoning you jacket when it’s cold outside, literally everything.

Does he care that sometimes your tone gets a little snippy with him when you ask him to do something for you? No. Does he care that you scold him if he does something wrong? No. Does he care that you roll your eyes at him when you catch him staring? No.

Because at the end of the day, you mean more to Yuuji than anything else. He can handle Cursed Spirits that can — and honestly have — ripped him limb from limb. Surely he can handle a bit of eye-rolling from his beautiful girlfriend.

Megumi and Nobara can’t help but tease Yuuji for his behaviors, Nobara more so than Megumi. She just enjoys pointing out the fact that you could tell Yuuji to jump and he would reply back with, “How high?”

But that doesn’t mean that they don’t see the small points of toxicity that peek through your actions. Sure, it was sweet that Yuuji would be willing to do anything and everything for you — but it felt like the things that Yuuji was doing went unreciprocated.

It was Nobara then that approached you because, in all honesty, Yuuji was one of her closest friends. And she would be damned if she was going to stand by and just watch as he was treated like someone’s lap dog. Don’t get her wrong, she loves and adores you too, but she can see where people’s toxic traits lie.

She ends up pulling you aside following one of your training sessions together, noticing in her peripheral the way that Yuuji pauses upon seeing you be dragged away by Nobara. You don’t protest to her actions, allowing your classmate to drag you underneath the school’s entry archway. Nobara keeps her fingers locked around your wrist as she inhales deeply, not wanting her emotions to accidentally get the better of her — the last thing that she needed was for you to get cross with her. You were deadly in that regard after all.

“(Y/N), listen to me, yeah? You’re an amazing person, and I know that you likely don’t mean to come off as brash or as harsh as you sometimes do, but we all notice. And by ‘we all’, I mean me and Fushiguro. Yuuji is — for lack of a better word — devoted to you, he loves you a whole lot ‘kay? Again, I know that you don’t mean to be rude to him sometimes, but that’s what we all see. So try and lay off of the eye rolling, yeah?”

Nobara smiles once she’s finished speaking, releasing the grip that she had on your wrist and placing both of her hands on her hips. You stand there in silence for a moment, mulling her words over in your head before reflecting on all that you had ever said and done to Yuuji.

You realize at that moment that Nobara was right — Yuuji had only ever been kind and loving to you. And you were just…bitchy right back. You felt like slapping yourself across the face, how could you have let that behavior go on for so long?

“God — you’re right Nobara. I’ve been — I’ve been pretty terrible haven’t I?”

After that conversation with Nobara, you begin to plan in your head how to make it up to Yuuji — starting with his favorite snacks and movie series. Your dorm is suddenly nothing but blankets and pillow forts, adorned with the string lights that you usually kept your room decorated with. On the television is the selection screen for the Deluxe Edition of the Human Earthworm movies — which you knew were Yuuji’s absolute favorite.

Once you finished setting everything up, you text Yuuji to swing by your dorm — which he agrees to without hesitation. Within five minutes of sending the text, Yuuji is knocking repeatedly at the door, smiling widely when you pull it open. You invite him inside, placing your palms over his eyes and repeating that you had a surprise for him.

You lead him to the pillow/blanket fort set up in front of the small television in your dormitory, guiding him to sit down. You take a seat beside him, removing your hands from his eyes and presenting your little movie setup with a grand flourish of your hands.

“You did all of this for me?”

“Yeah — think of it as an apology for me being so demanding of you all the time.”

Yuuji turns to you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you firmly to his chest, tucking you into him and burying his nose into your hair. You nestle yourself in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling to yourself as he holds you.

After a good five minutes of sitting in Yuuji’s arms, you disconnect yourself to play the first Human Earthworm movie, smiling as Yuuji excitedly begins to ramble.

With a lovesick smile of your own, you settle in with your boyfriend, nibbling on your snacks and simply enjoying his company.

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori fanfiction #itadori yuuji fanfiction #yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji fanfiction #itadori fanfiction

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synthetickitsune · 4 months

Text

Joshua (Seventeen) | Nicknames fluff | 0.9k words | gn!reader A/N: @hanniedream we're even now, stop indulging my brainrot or we'll get stuck here >:(

You feel his eyes on you while you’re saying goodbye to his friends. It’s nothing new, Joshua generally likes to keep his eyes on you to make sure you’re alright, especially as the night draws to an end. But when you meet his gaze this time, something is wrong. It’s just a flash of something you can’t decipher in his eyes before it’s gone and he smiles warmly at you, inviting you into his open arms. When you close the distance between you, he pulls you close and kisses the top of your head before waving the guys goodbye.

Once the doors are closed, he holds you just for a second longer so you can’t escape, chuckling at your weak attempts to struggle out of his arms. You don’t move far, just enough to look at him.

“Is everything alright?” you ask him. He tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he seems confused, his thumbs stroking your waist to provide comfort.

“I don’t know, you looked a little upset for a second there,” you explain and he seems to immediately catch up, shaking his head with another smile.

“I think I’m just tired and wanted them gone already.”

You don’t think that’s all there is to it, but you let it go. You don’t have any proof, and besides - you’re a bit tired too. It’s easy to let the worry melt away when Joshua holds you in bed, your back against his chest and his lips meeting the skin of your neck between every word he speaks.

Truth be told, you forget about the incident the next day and don’t think about it anymore. Largely because Joshua now makes an effort not to make you worry. It’s childish anyway, and so he pays attention to his expression any time he sees you interact with your or his friends. It’s nothing, and you’re cute. No need to make you worry.

You only remember now that you see the same look on Joshua’s face that he had that evening after you get off the phone with your best friend. The slight frown on his face, his lips turned downwards. You wouldn’t say he looks hurt, but it’s not far from it. His eyes immediately grow wide like he’s a deer caught in the headlights when he realizes you saw and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words leave him.

“Shua, what happened?” you whisper. You put your phone down on the counter, but before you can go to him, he’s already standing in front of you. Wordlessly he helps you jump onto the counter before stepping between your legs and caging you in. You blink at him, suddenly flustered by his closeness and the position as he rests his forehead against yours. “Shua?”

“You never use any nicknames for me,” he states with a slight sigh. Better to rip the bandaid off, he figures. “You give everyone else one, though. Why not me? You don’t even call me Joshie anymore.”

You stare at him, stare at the soft look in his eyes, the slight pout to his lips. He doesn’t sound upset but it’s obvious it’s bothering him, and you wonder for how long did he let it steep inside him.

“Is that it?” you ask, not laughing, not judging, just making sure.

“Yeah,” he whines a little, “It’s stupid but it’s been on my mind for a while. Why don’t you call me anything but my name?”

“I heard you mention you don’t care about nicknames much, so I thought you’d prefer if I called you by your name,” you try to remember what was the occasion, but your memory fails you.

“Sounds like something I’d say,” Joshua hums in acknowledgement, soothing your worries by rubbing his hand across your thighs, “But I think I’d like it if you called me something sweet. Something simple.”

“My love?” you try immediately, laughing at the spark in his eyes when they meet yours. “Just love?”

He thinks it over before prompting you to say both again. His smile grows while he listens with his eyes closed, blindly leaning closer to you until his lips are on yours.

“I like when you call me yours,” he smiles into the kiss. He doesn’t pull too far away after you part.

“Just mine then,” you tease, cracking up at the sight of his offended face. His lips part and he scoffs.

“You can lose your partner privileges as fast as you get them.”

“I’m not the one who was whining about not being called anything but my name, Joshua,” you point out. However, seeing the playfulness drop from his face, you reach your arms out and hug him. “You’re cute, my love.”

He hums, his hands sliding down your thighs and to your back, returning the hug with more strength than you were prepared for. You squeak, but he doesn’t let go, not until he leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. “I like that one.”

“I’ll experiment around with them, this one just felt right for the first one,” you promise, squeezing his shoulders, “Feel better now?”

“No longer feels like my own partner is excluding me, yeah,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. You smack his shoulder lightly and roll your eyes. You stop yourself from asking if he’s going to hold this against you for long - even though it was his fault for not bringing it up sooner. “I love you, my love.”

“I love you too,” you smile. It really does sound nice.

#joshua scenarios #joshua x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #svthub #svt x reader #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt fluff #joshua fluff #drabble

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littledollll · 1 year

Text

Dumb little doll

Wanda Maximoff x reader

A/n: listen- anyways. Yk how weird it is to use “little doll” as a pet name when your user is also littledollll? (April 1)

Warnings: college AU, DARK FIC, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome syndrome, manipulation, SMUT, thigh ridding, breast/nipple play, hickeys, orgasm denial, Dacryphilia. Dom r, sub wanda.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Wanda was walking sunshine, always happy, she didn’t really have many friends thankfully, but she could get on well with practically anyone. A shy little thing, it was rare to see her without a cute blush spread across her cheeks.

Anyone who met her would say she was the perfect girl, and you wanted that perfect girl all for yourself. Even though she was your friend, you wanted more, much more. You wanted her fully. To keep that little doe in the palm of your hand.

It came quite easy actually. Her kind nature led her to your home, you had asked for help bringing in some art materials and she was happy to oblige. You were unaware of her affections for you, but those all came in handy when it was time to keep her.

You asked her to stay for the rest of the day, just to spend some time together. Once again that adorable blush adorned her cheeks as she agreed to stay.

You talked about everything and nothing, then made dinner together and put on a movie. “I like this, being with you I mean. It’s really nice to be this close since, I like- I like you a lot.” It was a quiet confession but one you definitely caught. “I like you too Wands. Why don’t you stay the night? Let me show you just how much, hm?”

She never came back out. It was curious, she didn’t make a fuss or even question it, she blindly agreed with everything you said, when you claimed it was too dangerous outside for a little doll like her without you, she only nodded and asked if you’d keep her safe. You never questioned that either. Just happy to have the girl you wanted so willingly all for yourself.

Still, you took precautions. The doors stayed locked at all times, only you could come in or out at any moment. There were cameras hidden throughout the house and others outside, the rare times wanda did come out it was to places hours away from your home, just to make sure nobody would question why she was with you. And she wasn’t allowed to let go of your hand. Wanda had no complaints.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“you were gone all day, I was so worried!” Wanda ran up to you with a cute little pout. Immediately wrapping her arms around you and nuzzling into your neck. “I missed you so much. Why were you gone all day? You didn’t tell me you had to be out.” You took note of how she looked. One of your sweaters draped over her otherwise nude body, something she did to show she was ready for you.

Being the only person in her life meant that Wanda became co-dependent, exactly what you wanted yes. But it made it harder when she couldn’t follow you outside. She always wanted to be around you, you became her world.

The one thing you found hard about this was keeping Wanda entertained. No she wasn’t much of a party girl but after some point everyone needs an outing or something to do, something to keep her busy while she was locked in your home all day every single day. She spent most of the time worrying about you, wondering what you did outside, she’d try to bring it up and ask but you always shut it down.

“I’m quite alright, little doll. Feeling clingy today aren’t you?” You didn’t want the world outside to become a topic of conversation for her. She didn’t need to know anything other than what you told her. Soon enough she’d get used to this but for now you ignored the questions every time, changing the topic to make it about her, what she did, how she’s feeling.

Wanda nodded against you, soon enough her lips were on you. A kiss you quickly reciprocated moving to sit on the couch and placing Wanda on top of you.

As soon as you parted she hid again, this time with a mischievous giggle. “What’s your angle here, doll?”

“I just missed you, wanna be close” it would’ve been innocent enough if the grinding against your thigh wasn’t so obvious. “Is that so?” Your hands made their way to her waist, encouraging the slow roll of her hips against you.

“Mmhm, I had a really nice dream but when I woke up to tell you all about it you were already gone.” Wanda said in a whiny voice, pouting at you once again. “Mhm? Wanna tell me all about your dream now, doll?” Wanda nodded, reluctantly pulling away when you asked so she could look at you as she talked.

“well- um- it was right after you came home and I went to greet you like usual but you were very upset. So I- asked if I could help make you feel better.” You could practically see Wanda reliving the dream in her head as she spoke. The way she stuttered with her words, her chest raising and falling, how she blinked in effort to get her eyes to focus on the present.

Touching her would help ground her right? Both of your hands snuck up her waist. Thumbs teasingly rubbing her nipples under the sweater and her hips bucked at the contact.

“Keep going baby, you’ve barely told me about your little dream.”

Wanda’s eyes fell shut when all her squirming got her to perfection position to rub her clit just right against your clothed thigh. She was getting needy, faster, but you wanted her to last just a little longer. “Come on doll, you just have to tell me what happens and you can cum.”

She whimpered and hid into your neck again, you let it slide this once.

“y-you said yes and laid me right here on the couch.” Wanda moaned and squirmed when her nipples were twisted between your fingers. You groped her breasts and continued toying with her now very sensitive nipples, and hummed at her to continue.

“You teased me for s-so long it hurt so good- and you only started fucking me after I cried and begged you to.” You’d have to make that dream come true some day, you promised yourself. It was burned into your mind, the image of her squirming and crying underneath you, begging you to use her already because she couldn’t take it anymore.

She was getting lost in her own world again, leaving small bites all over your neck, basically wherever she could reach, shy moans sounding out right against your ear. Hips moving in small circles and she chased her high. You could feel how soaked she was even through the fabric of your pants.

“Is that all baby?” She hummed, now completely focused on getting off now. You pinched and rolled her nipples between your fingers, thigh flexing under her. “Such a dirty girl. You’re a slut even in your dreams hm?” She whined, bucking her hips more and more each passing second. You’re surprised she’s lasted this long. Just waiting for her to ask to cum, pondering what you’d do if she didn’t.

“You fantasize about me using you? such a dumb little doll, letting me manipulate you as I please.” She rut against your leg desperately looking for any relief from the throbbing heat she felt running over her body. But she knew better than to let go. You already said no once and even if you said she could after she told you her dream there was no telling what sort of punishment you were in the mood for if she isn’t ask before.

“I n-need to, please-“ oh how she sounds of her needy voice begging made a shiver run down your spine. Heat pooling in your stomach at her desperate display. You didn’t say a word. Letting her edge herself a while longer just to hear that sweet voice again. “hurts..” you shushed her, tugging at her nipples again and she practically screamed.

“Tell me I can, please- please...” Moans turned to non-stop whimpers and whines and her thighs quivered around your own. Her arms wrapped around your neck as she nuzzled impossibly closer, almost afraid she’d fall apart if you didn’t give her permission 𝗻𝗼𝘄.

You hummed, watching her. Every slight twitch in her body, the tensing of her thighs, her chest heaving. You could feel everything. Her labored breathing against your neck, the way her hips stuttered and slightly lifted as she forced herself to hold back. You could feel her tears on your skin. “Let go for me, my beautiful doll.”

God it was euphoric. The sound of her unfiltered cries and how her arms squeezed you so tightly. Her body shaking as she succumbed to the pleasure that was held back from her so long. The quiet and repetitive thank yous she so politely rushed out. Your hands trailed back to her waist and down to her thighs just caressing her soft skin. Wanda barely had energy to move anymore, she settled to lay against you as she was now, her breathing slowing and eyes slipping shut.

“You are so welcome, doll. Get some rest baby, you most certainly deserve it.”

She didn’t need know you were handing in a faked withdrawal from college in her name today, convincing the professors this is all they’d hear from her because she won’t be coming back, or that those who knew her have spent the past weeks looking for any signs of where she so suddenly disappeared off to. She didn’t need to know that the people who questioned you or seemed too pushy did not end up so well, or that you’d have to move out of state soon.

“My dumb little doll, you have no idea what I would do for you..”

She knew everything. Of course she knew, this was a little fantasy of hers. A sick one. To have all of you as well, all your time and attention, every ounce of concern and affection. Wanda relished in giving up control. That control she had over everything all the time. But with you? Oh all she had to do was give in.

Why would she ever leave the perfect world she created for herself? You were her doll, a puppet on strings, and this was the game she wanted to play with you.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda smut #wanda x reader #mcu wanda #wandavision #wanda maximov #wanda maximommy #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x y/n

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remcycl333 · 1 year

Note

i feel like ‘living in the end’ is such a load of bull, everyone’s saying affirm and persist or go into the states. i feel like half of the community don’t have lives to live or even go outside. Idk, i just feel like not everyone can do that, especially in such a bad environment. like I get it I want to manifest a better life but its not my fault if I don’t persist or believe.

im not an affirm and persist girly anymore, but i was for a good year or two. all the advice i saw online was to affirm more. "if your desire isn't here yet, you haven't affirmed enough." i trusted this blindly, and i ended up affirming 24/7. it took up my whole life. i'd affirm while hanging out with my friends, while watching tv, while playing video games, while listening to music. and i wasn't getting my desires, even though it had been months. this is what led me to states, even though for a good year i didn't know the term "states".

states make manifesting so easy. you don't have to be in the state all day, because you are constantly shifting in and out of states all day long. you don't have to be perfect, you don't have to dedicate your entire day every day to repeating affirmations. the state you consistently going back to--aka your dwelling state--is what manifests. as long as you go back to the state of having your desire more than you go to the state of NOT having your desire, your desire will manifest.

living in the end is not a load of bull, but it's also not a 24/7 job like some people have made it out to be. let's say your manifesting money. i'm sure there are stretches of time throughout the day where you don't think about money at all. maybe while you're watching tv or reading a book or playing a video game. at that time, you're neither in the state of being rich, nor in the state of being poor. that's why you don't have to be in your desired state 24/7.

manifestation is a tool, it's not a job. we should not be neglecting our lives to affirm 24/7. nor should we be counting our affirmations. manifestation is a natural process. we manifested for years without even knowing we were doing it. we didn't create "neural pathways" or repeat sentences 10,000 times until our mind was saturated. we simply knew (assumed) something to be true, and then it manifested naturally into our 3d reality.

if it's not your fault if you don't persist, then who's is it? you have to take responsibility for everything you do. if you're in a bad environment, i don't blame you for having trouble with persisting or believing. but it's still something you're doing (or not doing). manifestation is your power that can help you get out of whatever situation you're in. especially if it's a situation that has no physical solution. if your only hope to get out of your situation is to manifest your way out, then people like me are here to teach you how to manifest. if you don't want to put in the effort, that's on you.

i know this sounds harsh. but as i explained before, states is very easy. you don't have to believe that everything is cupcakes and rainbows in your 3D when you're seeing the opposite of what you want. but it's not permanent, and you have the power to change the story in your 4D to be something more favorable. change your 4D first, and the 3D will follow. it is safe to think/imagine in your favor. take care of your 3D, don't neglect it. but there is nothing dangerous or high stakes about living in the end in your imagination. living in the end ≠ acting as if. if you're manifesting money and you only have ten dollars to your name, don't spend that money on something you don't need because "that's what a rich person would do." nothing you do in your 3D will effect your manifestation. it doesn't matter if you're not acting like a rich person, as long as you consistently go back to the state of being rich. the only thing you need to do is occupy the state of the wish fulfilled more than you occupy the state of lack, and your 3d will change. my fav way to do this is the distraction technique. the whole purpose of this technique is to shift your state to the wish fulfilled, and then go on about your day without having to constantly think about your desire. which is perfect for someone who doesn't have much time to manifest.

living in the end is not bull, it's one of the most important parts of manifesting. but i hope i've shown you that it isn't as hard as the grind culture that is affirming 24/7 has made it out to be. it's not a job, and it shouldn't take up all of your mental capacity or months of your time. you should be allowed to focus on things other than your manifestation!

anywayz i hope this post has helped someone idk!

#asks #states

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt6

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

(The other parts of this story are under the First BG3 Masterlist, or you can use the AO3 link to read it there)

This one is my problem child. I have no idea how to write for the other companions but I needed to have this as context for the companions learning about Tav's bg and yeah whatever I've got better stuff coming up. I am very very excited for future chapters >:)

Warnings: self-destructive coping mechanisms (scratching oneself), mentions of slavery, hints of a panic attack, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of biting, possibly OOC companions

Word Count: 1,334

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Everyone eyed you warily. You didn’t blame them. After you scrubbed your hands raw of the blood staining them, you provided no explanation. You’d basically sped in, Astarion trailing behind, and ran for a bucket of water. And stayed there. For hours. After the fact, you changed out the water, of course, but they weren’t concerned as much with the pink-tinted water as they were with the frantic nature you scraped the natural dye from your hands.

Astarion didn’t say anything either. A few of them had tried asking, but he smiled tersely and made an excuse that changed each time. “I was too distracted fighting a beast.” “You know how some people get with germs.” “They really hate the color red.” (This one was not said to Karlach, nor in her earshot.)

It all came to a head at dinner, when you’d still provided no explanation. Gale handed out servings silently, staring at you as though studying a new specimen. Lae’zel watched you like a predator trying to defend her territory, prepared for the moment the intruder stepped over the line. Shadowheart barely repressed her scowl.

Wyll set down his bowl pointedly. “Haven’t you kept your secrets hidden long enough?” You raise your eyes from your barely-touched stew. You didn’t quite see him. Your mind lingered on the image of the Gur. “Do you expect us to continue following blindly while we pour our souls out for you?”

You bristled. The image disappeared, tucked away to haunt you later. “No. No, I’m sorry.” You sighed and set your bowl aside. Everyone watched you expectantly, more interested in what you could say than filling their bellies. “It’s just… difficult to talk about.”

“Speak,” Lae’zel encourages roughly. “We will listen.”

Astarion frowns at you. He’s taken to sitting beside you for ‘dinner’. They knew by now he wasn’t suited to eating normal food, but he didn’t quite trust them not to stake him through the heart or cut his head off. It was safest to linger by your side. The irony of your trust in him was not lost on him: You understood him best and you feared him the most. That fear may have dampened over time, but you still flinched at the gleam of his fangs, watched him as he left camp to hunt at night. Yet you’d bared your soul to him and him alone. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

You inhale, slow and shaky. Your hands fiddle in your lap, providing you some sort of distraction. It would not be enough to ground you to reality should the thoughts become too potent.

“I was… am,” you corrected unsurely, “a vampire’s thrall. She… uses me as a blood source. Has used me, for years. I’ve been stuck under her thumb since I was a teenager. It’s… easier to have one consistent source of food than to go out looking for it every night.

“When we were out in the woods,” you nod your head slightly toward Astarion, “there was a Gur. A monster hunter. A-And he said he was looking for a runaway.” Your breaths sharpen into quick, frightened little things. You nearly choke on them. You stare into the fire. Your nails start scratching at your hands. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. “He had nothing to go on, just a name, but I panicked and I- I killed him. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I could have explained everything. I could have paid him off. I could have-”

“Steady on, soldier,” Karlach interrupts. You can’t look at her, can’t draw your eyes away from the flickering flames, but you know she looks worried. It always amazed you how openly she wore her emotions, despite it all. “Take a breath, okay?”

Your nails stop scratching in favor of digging into your skin. You take a breath, slowly let it out, and your nails ease off. You run your fingertips mindlessly over the indents left behind.

You whisper, unable to raise your voice any further. “He said my master is in Berdusk.”

Quiet. Gale spoke up, voicing the awful realization everyone had. “That’s only a few miles from Baldur’s Gate.”

You nod.

“You’re marchin’ right back to her.” Karlach sighs, heavy and empathetic.

You finally lift your eyes from the fire. Everyone’s attention is on you, pitying and remorseful. “I have no choice. I can’t abandon you all just to run away. Especially with these tadpoles. I have no doubts she’ll find me quickly once we reach the city.”

“We could confront her,” Wyll suggests. “Go to Berdusk, face her head on, free you!”

“It’s not some goblin camp we can just walk into and clear out,” you protest. The idea thrills you to no end, but you cannot allow yourself that hope. Not when there is none. You will be found. Tonight, the next, a week from now. You’ll be locked back into your servitude. There is no chance you have to be free. “Killing a vampire lord isn’t- It’s not just-”

Astarion speaks up. You don’t expect it; he’d been so quiet this whole time. “If we can kill Cazador, we can kill Kir Parthene.” Your stomach rolls around at the sound of her name. “What makes facing my master any different from yours?”

You know the answer. Even if you don’t realize it yet, you know.

You have no qualms threatening Cazador. You’ve even told Astarion that you plan to help him kill his master, once and for all. Free him and his ‘siblings’, and rid Baldur’s Gate of the nighttime threat to its people. No longer would they have to go out, lure victims in as food for the vampire lord. It was so easy to promise. If you could help everyone else, why should you leave Astarion to the same fate you faced after this quest? He should be as free as possible from the chains binding him.

So why couldn’t you let them swear the same for you? What made Kir Parthene so different from Cazador? She was not stationed in as large a city, she did not steal souls off the street every night just for a quick meal, she did not personally carve poetry into the flesh of those beneath her. She had power, but no more than Cazador held. So why were you so reluctant to even dream of your freedom?

You were afraid.

Astarion can see the very second you know the answer to his question. Your eyes open a fraction wider, filling with a bottomless dread. Your heart stutters and your breath catches. He’s sure you’re on the verge of tears as you inhale a trembling breath, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, even as your fear squeezes your lungs.

“You won’t have to face her alone.” You turn to look at Shadowheart. “You’ve given us the strength to face our demons. We can help you face yours.”

You want to believe her. Believe all of them as they nod in agreement. Believe they could give you the strength you lacked, support you when you come face-to-face with her once more.

But then you see the deep crimson of her eyes and lips. You feel her nails digging into your skin. The cooing affections that come just after the harsh vitriol. Her teeth digging deep into your neck. How can you have any hope of facing her?

You shake your head and push yourself to your feet so fast Astarion is startled. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about this right now.” You abandon your dinner. It sits, lonely and growing cold, as you step away from the warm glow of the fire and the safety of your companions into the edge of trees surrounding your camp. You don’t go far, just far enough you can’t hear them speaking and they can’t see you collapse against a tree, clutching and clawing at your hands to remove the memories from your mind.

At least they know now.

---

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rinamars · 6 months

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i was trying to write something soft and sweet and then, all of a sudden, i... i wasn't. i'm having unchaste thoughts about erwin smith and i plan on making it everyone's problem.

(under the cut you'll find: raw-dogging, high libido, breeding kink, and let's say some exhibitionism too)

erwin smith is a proper gentleman. he opens the door for you, he buys you flowers, he takes you out to dinner, he fucks you in missionary because it's the most romantic position to do it in. not once has he displayed sexual proclivities that one could define as particularly kinky. he listens to your desires first and foremost. and he always, always wears protection.

one day, he reaches for that familiar box in his nightstand. he's already between your legs, hard and aching and mere inches away from your wet heat, and he's trying to blindly grab a rubber, only to find that box completely empty. what now?

you're squirming underneath him. it's okay, you tell him. we're both clean. you tilt your hips upwards, urging him to hurry up. i'm on the pill. it's okay.

so, he fucks you raw for the very first time that night.

as soon as he gets the tip in, his brain short-circuits. he feels what he's always felt every single time he's buried himself inside you, only now everything's heightened. his moan sounds more like a shaky whimper when you clench down directly on him for the first time, so much tighter and hotter than when there's a barrier between you.

you're clearly feeling it as well: you're tilting your head back, exposing your neck for him to kiss and bite (he never bites, what's happening to him?), you're clawing at his back, you're trying to spread your legs even wider. oh, yes, is everything you're able to say, your voice trembling. oh, yes. oh, yes. oh, yes. he can't help but agree with you.

he's not able to last as long as he typically does. you can feel it, too, and so you add a new word to your repertoire: inside! inside!

and so he comes. he reached his peak sooner but his orgasm lasts longer, and he fills you with everything he has, reveling in the way you're panting underneath him.

when he pulls out and sees his seed dribbling out of you, it's like a switch is flipped inside of his brain, and he's overwhelmed by a kind of possessiveness he's never felt before. you're full of him. you're his. his. his.

the sight is already making him hard again, but your eyes are fighting to stay open, so he snaps out of it and focuses on his usual aftercare routine. he tries not to press his renewed erection into your ass as he cuddles you to sleep.

it's a silent agreement, but neither of you want to go back to using rubbers after that. the empty box in his nightstand never finds a replacement, and instead he pounds you like he's never done before, hard and fast, and those squelching noises you're producing together are like music to his ears.

erwin begins to crave you in ways that he'd never allowed himself to indulge in. after making you come once, he flips you around and just penetrates you again: you bury your face in the pillow and raise your ass up, because you somehow already know that's precisely how he wants to have you. his sweet little wife.

every single time, without fail, he admires the way you're full of him. he tries to push his seed back into you, not wanting to waste a drop, thinking about how pretty you look all marked like that. he wonders how much more of his cum you can take. he tries to imagine what you would look like if that seed takes.

his appetite skyrockets. he wants you first thing in the morning, he wants you as soon as he comes home from work, he wants you in the shower, before bed, in the middle of the night when he desperarely grinds his rock hard cock against you. he just can't help it.

he knows the neighbours can hear. if they don't hear his moans they hear your moans, and if they don't hear yours either then they can definitely hear the headboard slamming against the wall with each of his vigorous thrusts, and he feels simply elated. you're his, everyone should know. and maybe... maybe they soon will be able to see you heavy with his child, and see firsthand how you belong to him, if there was ever any doubt.

he does feel a little ashamed, ashamed for only realizing how bad he wants to make a mommy out of you after such a dirty act. he fills you up again and again, his brain conjuring up images of a rounded belly, swelling from the new life growing inside of you, a life you'd both created together.

arousal clouds his mind and he forgets you're on the pill, instead hoping to soon see you become the lovely mommy he knows you could be. he wants you to carry his child, he wants everyone to see the permanent mark of your love for one another.

you never complain about his new desires. if anything, you're ecstatic he's become so much more animalistic: granted, he always kept you thoroughly satisfied even with the most vanilla of sexual encounters, but you'd secretly been hoping to witness his wild side in action. thank god you'd forgotten to buy new condoms.

as for him, he hopes you'd soon ditch birth control the same way you'd let go of the condoms.

he thinks you're both ready.

#mars writes #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith smut

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luminouslotuses · 2 months

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i didn’t see this anywhere here so i figured i’d give a transcript of a portion of the beginning of shubble’s recent stream (apologies for not getting the entire thing but if you want to hear it yourself this is the video i watched);

shubble:

and if you think all of our mutual friends who knew us both intimately in private are supporting me blindly, you aren’t being honest. um, i don’t know how you wouldn’t assume people we spent every day with wouldn’t know more than you about this situation. you are not entitled to everything that everybody knows, not everybody is ready to share their stories and experiences, but they have all asked you to support me and that is not blind. what is blind is pretending that all they have to go off of is my word alone. let’s not ignore the boys who said themselves that they have witnessed him manipulate them and their friends; all of which who were eighteen at the time, by the way.

i am not the only one. give them time before you start calling me a lying whore, perhaps. um, i didn’t coordinate this because i didn’t know how many more people had experiences to share. i actually didn’t know biting was something that had happened before me until after i spoke about it, i didn’t know. um, that’s why i needed to do it. i’m sorry that everything couldn’t conveniently come out all at the same time, um… everyone who knew us both mutually have come together in solidarity and asked you to support me, and i am asking you to listen to all of them, too. it’s not just me. continuing to pretend that it is isn’t helpful.

um… and if all of that isn’t enough for you, then you’re just going to have to not believe me. and i didn’t expect everyone to. that doesn’t mean i owe anything to every person who calls me a liar, um– but if you are mad that more people are believing me and you don’t agree, that sounds like a you problem. they have made up their minds themselves just as you have, and i am not trying to change your mind.

what i endured was so much more than just slobbishness and disrespect, it’s offensive to downplay it that much. and in my opinion, the most obvious thing to me is that the apology is not genuine at all. if it was, i would have been referred to by name. simply. i believe at bare minimum a requirement for a sincere apology is to say the name of who you are speaking to. um, i think by not saying my name, that can only be done out of disrespect, that’s what i believe. to me it completely contradicts any claim to have changed. and i proved on steam that he’s lied. even if just that one time, i felt that was a big deal.

um, shubble support squad– you have been my rock through all of this. i am trying to do the right thing, um, and i do believe so deeply that this needed to happen to protect people. um– i’m only sorry that i couldn’t protect everyone else, because– there were more people hurt after me. um, and i am sickened– by what he did. i truly believe my soul is healed beyond him but unfortunately, my mind and my body are not, and that will take more time. your brain chemistry changes when you live through something like this. um, and– i’m going to try to play minecraft, and pretend my life has peace for a moment, um, because it won’t. for a while.

um– but it will. and i’m gonna try to find my way to happiness, and if you don’t like the way that that looks, then i’m sorry. um, i’m just going to have to disappoint you. i have to put my mental health first.

#abuse tw #shubble #wilbur situation #transcripts

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amatchinwater · 2 years

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Red String / Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (soulmate AU)

Summary: At nineteen, everyone's red string that ties them to their soulmate appears on their pinkies. You find out in the middle of a Hellfire campaign that it's attached to Eddie, your childhood best friend. Nervous that he might not want you, you lie about it. Being able to see your soulmates string, Eddie confronts you later at your place.

Warnings: 18+(seriously, I will block you), explicit sexual content (fingering, oral m and f receiving, deep throating, p in v sex), unprotected sex (reader on pill, but seriously, wrap it before you tap it people), light angst with a happy ending, slight dom!Eddie, choking, what could be seen as subspace, aftercare

Words: 4033

a/n: I've been having so much fun with these ideas. Working on a part 2 for Collecting Strays! And have a song fic coming too. Send a request if you'd like to my loves 💚 (Master list)

Not my gif, credit to creator!!

You knew.

Right down to the fucking minute you turned nineteen years old, you knew. Eddie Munson was your soul mate. You watched that night during the group’s latest Hellfire campaign. They were willing to postpone it because it was your birthday, but there wasn’t anything better you could think to do spend your night doing. To be perfectly honest, the only reason you were paying so close attention was because everyone kept pestering you about it showing up.

Dustin was all too excited about it. Saying that he’d remembered the day Steve saw his string show up. That he wanted nothing more than another one of his best friends to be one step closer to happiness. It’s almost like he’d expected you to drop everything and run blindly until you find the source of it or something.

What you weren’t prepared for was it to show up and be quite possibly the shortest string in existence. Because from where you sat beside Eddie, your pinkies were not even two inches apart from one another. You noticed it before anyone else, seeing as they were thankfully preoccupied from a dragon guarding its keep. Your eyes widened when Eddie just so happened to move his hand to his face and you could see the string grow.

Eddie’s twenty. He’s had to have known of his string’s existence prior to now. Which leads you to believe that he knows that it’s attached to you. And has said nothing about it. Not even a peep. That doesn’t really sit right with you. Because that translates to Eddie doesn’t want you. To be frank, why would he?

You two practically grew up together. Your trailers are all of three lots away from one another. There’s literally pictures of you two in the bathtub together when you were still in diapers. There isn’t a single person in the room, probably not even yourself, that knows you better than he does. And you’re far from the cheerleader type that Eddie seems to be attracted to. Like Chrissy Cunningham, his latest conquest. Whereas she’s all ponytails and cheer uniforms, if you wear a skirt, much like tonight, it’s with torn fishnets and combat boots.

So when Dustin noticed the way your eyes widened at your pinky finger, he lit up with excitement. And you lied through your teeth, saying that it headed towards the door before fading. Trying to make it seem like it couldn’t be anyone in the room at the very least. But Dustin only shook it off, saying that the same thing happened to Steve. You could feel Eddie’s eyes burning into the side of your face the whole time.

It put you on edge for the remainder of the night.

He only seemed more ruthless in his duty as Dungeon Master.

Only Erica made it out alive.

You didn’t know what to think about any of it. So when it was time to leave, you all but bolted out the door and drove straight home. Barely even saying goodbye to the troup calling after you in your haste.

Sitting in silence wasn’t ever something you were really capable of doing. So you shoved your favorite Metallica tape in your cassette player and hoped to every god that it would drown your thoughts out. You’ve rewound the tape to listen to For Whom the Bell Tolls about four times already before you decide to grab a drink from the kitchen. Yanking open the fridge, the fluorescent light illuminates the string around your pinky as you grab a can of mountain dew.

Glaring at the thread angrily, you slam the fridge closed. Popping the tab on the can, you bring the drink to your lips only to be startled by your front door being shoved open. You only barely manage to not spill it on yourself as Eddie storms into your house, not even looking at you as he stalks down the hallway.

“What the fuck, Eds? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You call after him, trying to yell over the music. Which he promptly turns off. “What the fuck?” You repeat, putting your drink on the counter to follow him. It’s not like he’s unwelcome in your place, but what the fuck kind of entrance was that? “What’s your deal?”

“Why’d you lie?” Eddie asks where you find him pacing around your room, biting his nail, leather jacket and vest discarded on your bean bag chair.

You bite away the knee jerk ‘hello to you too,’ as confusion pulls your eyebrows together. You don’t recall lying to him about anything. At least not directly. “What?”

“Henderson,” Eddie pulls his thumb out of his mouth, stopping in his tracks to look at you wildly. “Why did you lie to Henderson?” Shock stills your features and all you can do is stare at him like a deer in the headlights. “Your string,” he doesn’t point to your finger, rather wiggles his own, “you know exactly where it goes. Did you think I couldn’t see it after it appeared on your hand? Did you think I wouldn’t care? Do you not want me?”

His words sound accusatory and you can’t for the life of you imagine why. Being with Eddie would be the best thing you could possibly ask for. You’ve been in love with the guy ever since fourth grade and he punched Jason in the face for pulling your braid. But not once in the entire time you’ve known Eddie has he ever once looked at you that way. If there weren’t pom poms involved, he wasn’t either.

“What does it matter if you don’t want me?”

“What?” He snaps, but his surprise is crystal clear in his bulged eyes. “I don’t want you? You? What kind of bullshit is that? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rolling your eyes, casting them to your ceiling, you let out a huff, “no, Eds, I’m not kidding.” When you look back at him, you see his gaze is fixated on your connecting thread, moving his own back and forth as it elongates and shortens with his movements. “Pretty sure the last we all heard, you and Chrissy were fucking in the woods like rabbits, so…” you trail off, not even sure where your train of thought was going to begin with.

Quit while you’re ahead, right?

Simply knowing that this isn’t a conversation you want to be having right now, you clamp your mouth closed. You don’t want to listen to Eddie tell you that because your string showed up that he’s going to stop whatever he has going with the head cheerleader to be with you. Or even worse, that he doesn’t care that it’s there and is going to continue to be with Chrissy regardless. Either option hurts and cracks your heart inside your chest. You won’t be someone’s second choice. You won’t.

“I’m fucking- Chrissy and I- what the actual fuck are you talking about?” Eddie’s face contorts further with confusion, the slightest trickle of anger seeping through the cracks. “I’m not fucking Chrissy. Nor do I plan to.” He scoffs, “I’m here because you saw your thread and didn’t bother saying that it was attached to me. You’re the one who doesn’t want this.”

“I never said-” your words are silenced by Eddie suddenly being an inch away from your face, ring clad hand pinning you to the wall by your throat. Not constricting your air, but enough of a squeeze to indicate that whatever you were planning on saying, Eddie doesn’t want to hear it. “Eds,” his name comes out a mere whimper, your body falling pliant to him, core aching with a need that’s only gotten worse in the years you’ve known him. Your fingers white knuckle the denim of his vest, silently begging for him to not back away.

Eddie halfheartedly sneers at you, “I don’t want to hear another lie, princess.” The nickname he’s always had for you sends a shiver down your spine. His free hand brushes a few strands from your forehead. “I want the truth, do you understand?” He points at you, fingers gently squeezing your throat in warning. “Is the thought of being with me really that abhorrent to you?”

“No!”

He squeezes again, “why lie then?”

“Because I thought you wanted Chrissy. I- I thought that there’s no way you’d want the girl you grew up with. The one who you watched get braces and taught how to drive. Every girl you’ve ever drooled after has been different versions of Little Miss Perfect. That’s not me, Eds,” tears well in your eyes, one spilling down your cheek that he stares at. “It’s not like you ever said anything about yours either.”

Eddie scoffs lightly through his nose, wiping the cascading tear before it can reach your chin. “That’s because mine was black when it appeared,” he explains and your eyes widen. “I thought my soulmate was dead. Turns out it was just because yours hadn’t shown up yet. Can’t have a proper tether if the other half doesn’t exist yet. I saw yours wrap around your pinky and bleed color into mine, I almost choked. You can’t see anyone’s string but yours and your soulmate’s.” Eddie looks down, shaking his head, “but then you told Henderson it went out the door and I thought it could only mean that you didn’t want it to be me.”

“Far from it, Eddie,” you whisper, one of your hands trailing up to the one still holding your throat. You grab his wrist, fingers twitching around his skin, “it was just my own way of trying to not deal with rejection. I can take anyone turning me down- not that I want anyone else,” you break off on a sigh. “I couldn’t handle the look in your eyes if you told me you wanted someone like Chrissy over me. I couldn’t. So I lied to save myself,” more tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision as more well up. “Eddie, I’m in love with you.”

The corner of his mouth begins to curl in a smile but he schools himself. “Prove it,” Eddie says, dropping his hand and taking a few steps back. You look at him perplexed, his emotions almost giving you whiplash, but you consider how his own emotions and your lie must have made him feel. “You can say all kinds of things, but those are just words.” Eddie crosses his arms to his chest, “so prove it.”

Shaky legs carry you across your room to him as he squares his shoulders. Slow, tentative hands reach out, one uncrossing his arms, the other brushing along his cheekbone to cup his jaw. You take a nervous breath, wrapping an arm around his back, stepping closer.

“You could just admit you don’t want this, princess,” Eddie says. But his voice is thick and you can see the hope glistening in those brown eyes that he doesn’t want you to stop.

“Fuck off,” you whisper, inching closer, “I’m just nervous.”

The stoic mask on his face cracks only just, “would you like me to help you?” Eddie’s fingers grip the waistband of your skirt tightly.

You want to have the courage to just dive in and kiss him, but you don’t. There’s still some small part of you that’s scared that this is a trick. Some way to get back at you for lying to him. For denying him. For making Eddie think that there’s some world where you don’t want him. As if a world like that exists. You almost think you’d deserve it too. Staring into his eyes, parting your lips as you pant your breath, you nod, “please.”

Eddie yanks your chest flush, making you gasp. The sound swallowed by his mouth colliding with yours. It’s dizzying and makes your heart palpitate beautifully in your chest. The red string on your pinky tingling warmly when his tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss as your back meets the wall again. His hand finds home around your throat again, cold rings flaring goosebumps on your skin.

Hiking your skirt up with his free hand, his fingers ghost the band on your panties and your legs spread on their own. You whine into his mouth, pussy throbbing in anticipation, arousal soaking through the material. He chuckles at your needy noises, “not yet. On your knees, princess.” You drop to the floor without a second thought, looking up with wide eyes. Eddie cups your chin, a grin curling the corner of his mouth, “you mean it, don’t you? You’re so sorry that you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Apology or not,” you swallow thickly, “I would.”

For the first time of the night, Eddie genuinely smiles at you, stroking your cheek. “Good girl,” his thumb drags along your bottom lip, pulling it down until you open your mouth. “Just a little more and I’ll give you what you want, okay?” His voice is deep, husky, yet so sweet in its sincerity. Like there’s a small part of Eddie that does want to punish you for your transgressions but the other part, perhaps the bigger one, that would never hurt you wants you to know that you’re everything to him. No matter what.

An assurance in his kind eyes despite the hardened features. You cling to that. Your heart clings to that. To Eddie. Your soulmate. The one you’ve loved longer than you’ve known what love is. So you nod, keeping your eyes locked on him while he unbuckles his belt and tosses in on the floor. Without thinking, you reach out for the button of his jeans, but you freeze, arms falling back to your thighs and you drop your gaze.

“That eager you want to do it yourself?” Eddie asks, mildly teasing, but you’re too turned on to care.

Batting your eyelashes, you look up at him again, “can I?”

Eddie holds his arms out, “I’m all yours, princess. Take what you want.”

With his affirmation, you hastily unbutton his jeans, yanking the denim down to his ankles, fighting off a growl at the shoes still on his feet. Eddie chuckles cheekily at you, petting your hair as he toes out of them, kicking his pants to the side as well. Face to face with the bulge in his boxers you salivate, fingers curling in the waistband you look up again to find dilated brown eyes hungrily watching you.

Steeling your nerves, you pull them down, eyes widening at the detailed upside down bat on his thigh. One of the few tattoos of his you’d never seen before. Dreaming of Eddie naked and seeing Eddie naked are two totally different things. His cock is beautiful. Hard and at attention, the vein and dribbles of precum having you ready to drool. Gripping at the base, you flatten your tongue out and lick up his shaft, moaning as the salty, sweet substance coats your taste buds.

“Fuck,” Eddie hisses, running his fingers through your hair. Swirling your tongue around the angry cockhead, you take him into your mouth slowly. Savoring the taste of him, gently bobbing your head to get him slick. “Just like that, princess,” his grip tightens once you suck with fervor, taking him as deep as you can go.

With a newfound sense of courage and his moans egging you on, you relax yourself and take him to the back of your throat. Careful of your breathing so you don’t gag.

“Fuck!” Eddie holds you harder, keeping you in place. Your brain goes nice and fuzzy, the rest of your air escaping your nose. Unable to hold your breath any longer, you pat his thigh and he pulls you off. While you gasp for air, he crouches to meet you, “shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Your eyes are unfocused when they find his face. Drool dripping from your bottom lip, you grin, “I wasn’t done yet.” Eddie pulls back, shocked and you push him to sit on your floor, bending down to take his dick back in your mouth. Moaning, sucking with a goddamn purpose, loving the way his thighs twitch every time he hits the back of your throat again.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, reaching behind you to pull your skirt up to your waist, grabbing your ass. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie groans, hips bucking on their own and you moan again. “Ah, okay, fuck, princess,” he growls as you go faster, lost in the feeling of him in your mouth. “Keep going like that and I’m gonna be done embarrassingly quickly.”

“Sorry,” you rasp out, wiping the residual drool from your lips.

“Don’t apologize,” he cups your jaw, “I’m just not done with you yet.” Eddie crashes his mouth to yours, taking nearly the last of your brain cells away with his tongue asserting dominance over yours.

Without further ado, Eddie rushes up, pulling you along with him. Before you can even stumble to find your footing, he’s lifting you by your waist and depositing you on your bed. You watch with glassy, hooded eyes as he does the stupidly sexy back pull to get his shirt off. You nearly choke, it’s been years since you’ve seen Eddie without a shirt on. He’s stunning and your thoughts go right out the window. Leaving only lust and hunger in their wake.

You’re not even allowed a moment to feel weird about still being fully clothed either. Your skirt being dragged off your legs, ring clad fingers running up your thighs, squeezing as they go. Kneading the flesh, flaring goosebumps and little gasped moans from your lips. In your own haste to get naked, you manage to yank your shirt off. Having already been home for a bit, your bra and fishnets have long since been discarded.

Left in only your panties, Eddie’s eyes rake over you hungrily, “so beautiful,” he whispers. Trailing kisses and love bites up your legs, stopping when he reaches your underwear. His warm breath ghosting over the wet fabric, you slump to your back, opening your legs in offering for whatever he may be willing to do to you. One finger crooks, pulling the material aside to reveal your glistening pussy, gently toying your folds as you sigh. The finger dips inside, your walls clenching around the intrusion, begging for more.

Eddie chuckles at you, “so needy, princess,” he coos, adding another finger. Hooking them, he hits that spongy part inside of you and you keen, eyes rolling back. Dropping his head, his hair tickles your thighs. But the giggle dies in your throat, breaking off into a loud moan, his tongue swirling around your clit. Eddie thrusts his fingers faster, every breath of yours coming out a moan or a whine for more. “You taste fucking amazing,” he groans, lapping at you until your thighs shake and your stomach tightens.

Your orgams smacks you right in the face, your head throwing back into your pillow as you cry out for him. “E-Eddie,” you whine, trying to pull his face back, too sensitive from having just come while his tongue and fingers effortlessly work you towards another. The second is no less intense than the first and you breathe out a silent scream, fingers fisting in the sheets and his curls.

Eddie groans against you, vibrating you straight to your core. Placing a gentle, teasing kiss to your throbbing, swollen clit, he pulls his fingers out. No chance to beg for more because he’s in your face, shoving his tongue down your throat and swallowing every needy moan you let loose. His cock rubs against your pussy, slicking you up with your own release before sinking into you fully. “Oh, princess,” he moans against your mouth, pulling back to just the tip and slamming back in, “you feel perfect.”

A guttural moan breaks past your lips as he keeps the same pace, your nails digging into his shoulders. You try to spread your legs more for him, but with his cock inside you, the lace of your panties restricts you. Whining, you paw at them to try and get some movement to no avail.

Something Eddie notices and he leans back, effortlessly tearing the fabric off and tossing it to the ground. You let out an indignant squeak. Those were your favorite pair. “I’ll buy you new ones, princess,” he grins at you, gripping your hips and thrusting faster. You watch in awe as Eddie lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing the pinky with your thread, making it glow.

Your eyes roll back, his cock hitting that sweet spot with a force that slams your headboard against the wall and your legs spasm. Your orgasm ripples through before you’d even processed that it had started to swell inside you.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, working you through the waves before pulling out of you and flipping you over. The moment your knees settle into the mattress, Eddie’s back inside you. Gripping your hips enough to leave bruises, he pounds into you. Thrusting into you with abandon and all you can do is scream through your moans and hold on for the ride. “I’m gonna come inside you, princess,” Eddie sounds breathless, voice strained at the thought alone.

Turning your head enough to see him over your shoulder, “please, please, Eddie,” you beg. Wanting nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you. You didn’t press about him wearing a condom and you’re on the pill, so it’s not like it matters. You want it so bad that it hurts, so you push back, meeting every powerful slam of his hips. The thought of it alone is enough to make you come again, Eddie’s cock inside you practically demands it.

“That’s my girl,” he coos, bringing his hands up to your shoulders to drive himself as deep as possible. “God, I fucking love you,” Eddie groans, hips stuttering as he comes, but he doesn’t stop. Rather lets the heat of his seed and his continued jabs at your bundle of nerves fly you over the edge of another orgasm.

You tremble through it, your cries being silenced by your sheets while you claw at them. Eddie gently pulls out of you, laying down and pulling you half on top of him, his erratic breaths beginning to calm. You feel dazed out of your mind in the best way possible, the thought of opening your eyes sounds stupid. So you keep them closed, not caring that your light is still on or that you can feel his come leaking out of you onto your bed. You’re too busy trying to remember what it’s like to breathe properly again.

“You still with me?” He asks and you nod, humming softly at the hand lovingly stroking your back. A shiver wracks your frame. “Are you okay?” Eddie asks while you pant against his chest and he strokes your hair soothingly. “Was it too much?”

You shake your head no, hoping it’s like that all the time. It was perfect, but words are not something your brain can properly handle forming right now. “Loved it. ‘S just cold,” you mutter, trying to cling to every inch of his warm skin touching you.

He kisses your temple, “here, princess,” Eddie reaches off the edge of the bed, grabbing a shirt and helping you into it. Looking down, you see it’s his own Hellfire shirt he’s given you to warm up with before his arms lock around you again and pull you to his chest. Eddie wiggles you both for a moment until your blanket covers you both. “Better?” He asks, his heartbeat echoing in your ears like the softest bass drum.

“Much,” you sigh contentedly, nuzzling into him.

“Do you need anything?” Eddie murmurs into your hair, tracing shapeless designs on your arm. “Water? Something to eat?” You shake your head no. “Tell me if that changes,” he sighs peacefully, holding you close.

“This isn’t a dream, right?” You mumble, half awake. “You’re here? You’re actually mine?”

Eddie squeezes you tighter, kissing your head again, “not a dream. I’m yours, princess.”

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #Match Writes

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fellthemarvelous · 3 months

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A heaping spoonful of religious trauma...

What falling feels like.

You want to know what gets to me the most about "Before the Beginning"?

I remember being in first grade (6-years-old) and sitting through a religion class that I hated (to be honest, I despised every religion class I was forced to sit through in school) because the indoctrination process is not even fun. I just got to sit there for like twelve years listening to them tell me lies about Christianity (my world religions teacher in high school was like being forced to sit through a teacher say "Bueller, Bueller" for about an hour 4-5 days per week for an entire semester).

But I digress as this story started off relevant.

I remember sitting through my first grade religion class and (this was 1987-ish, mind you) and thinking "but how do we know that our religion is right and everyone else's is wrong?" By that time, they had made it clear that not believing blindly in Catholicism was worthy of getting into trouble over, so I already knew better than to ask that question because I knew I would be sent to the principal's office. I didn't ask because I was terrified of the punishment when I was only 6-years-old. I already knew there was a price to pay for asking questions. And I can't even remember why I was already so terrified by that point.

Crowley paid a price for asking questions.

It's not like falling is easy. I fully denounced the Catholic church and now consider myself an atheist (mostly), but I will never allow an organized religion to try and define who I am ever again.

There is not a lot of support for this.

Falling is more than just fire and brimstone (so far that's the most appealing part). The worst part of "falling" is the fact that at the age of almost 43, I have NO idea who I am. None at all. I'm falling at a speed and trajectory I can no longer control, and it's been absolutely terrifying. It's been lonely.

I've spent my adult life putting the needs of everyone else above my own. Now I'm trying to find a job within a career I actually want (writing), but that's going to take time. I was traumatized by the Catholic church in so many ways, and I have a lot to say about it.

"How do we know that our religion is right and everyone else's is wrong?"

I wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences of asking that question to the wrong person at 6-years-old. Now I'm wishing I had an adult who was better at being an adult than me to guide me through all of this because I'm currently a giant ball of jobless anxiety wondering if I'm ever going to amount to anything more than what the church told me I would if I dared to lead a life without a husband and children.

I am not responsible enough to deal with "my disaster" (also known as "my life") all on my own. It's an issue of motivation because I have no idea who I am or what I want from life. My identity was decided for me by the church, and I still don't even know what that means.

I just know I'm trying to survive in a literal dystopian world and trying to figure out who and what I am in the middle of everything else. It's confusing and exhausting and so frustrating.

"How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

Once the spell is broken, there is no going back, and most of us end up making this journey on our own.

#good omens #religious trauma #crowley #what happens when you ask questions?#what happens when you figure out the right questions to ask?#what happens to your identity?#it has taken me 20+ years to reach this point after i walked away from the church

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daeguzen · 9 months

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Twisted Love

PAIRING | l.dh x f. reader

GENRE | angst

WORD COUNT | 5k

NOTE | wanted to do another piece to Lee Haechan Keeps Breaking Up With Me. this is haechan’s side because I have a problem with liking angst a bit too much…any whooo. (i'll make a fluffy haechan fic to atone for my sins.) here is haechan’s pov from the series, i will put this separately from the series on the masterlist. 🙂

WARNING | no happy ending for haechan, mental breakdowns, manupulative characteristics, imaginations of a relationship that is no longer, emotional crying

SONG | mia and sebastian's theme - justin hurwitz

SUMMARY | Haechan had a twisted view on love. One that he pushed onto you when you became his girlfriend. Whatever it was, you’d be there at his beckoning call. Perhaps, the universe had decided that it was time for Lee Haechan to drown in his own poison. When he realizes that you breaking up with him was your final act in the relationship he falls apart, desperate to have you back in his arms. Even if he has to go through all the humiliation and pain he put you through just to have your pretty eyes looking for him and soft lips loving his.

Haechan had a twisted view on love. Perhaps it was his parents' negligence or how his first love broke his heart. He grew up wanting to feel needed by others. So he began to excel in anything he could think of. Great at sports, an amazing dancer and singer, artistic, and a natural poet. He did everything not to just be good at it but to be better than everyone else. Indeed it got him the attention he craved. He became popular in school and even more so during college. Haechan was particularly recognized by his trademark smokey eye makeup that he wore now and then; it was always an attention grabber. Who wouldn’t fall for those cute eyes surrounded with danger?

Everyone craved a piece of him he’d never give. One he thought he gave up after it was destroyed from his parents failure of a proper upbringing. And from broken expectations of love. Any woman that laid eyes on him wanted anything he would offer. Even if it was a mere glance accompanied by a smirk. But even though he relished in the fact that he was desired so badly, none of them brought him more pleasure than you did.

It could be considered a cliche. You weren’t like any other girl and so on. You were just different. In Haechan’s eyes it was a hundred percent true. Sure you could be just like any other girl. But the difference was the way you didn’t blindly love Haechan for his beauty. He could remember all the little things you did for him, the details you paid attention to when he thought no one was looking. Anybody could recognize his favorite snacks or drinks, hell even the clothes he wore or games he liked. But that was just it. People recognized it and bought him more. You, no you were different from his mindless followers.

He could talk to you about anything and you would find it in yourself to study upon those things so you can further your conversations with him. It wasn’t a simple minded surface conversation. None of that. You took your time, you asked questions, and you listened to everything he had to say. Always taking his words into consideration. And it was so adorable how pathetically in love you were with him. Because as much as he knew you loved looking into his eyes, he also knew how much you loved hearing his voice talk to you about anything he wanted.

Eventually, as Haechan would phrase it, he allowed the two of you to be friends. You let him take the spotlight and the lead because that’s what he was meant to do in the play written for two. He was the lead and you were part of the background. Sometimes, you weren’t verbal with your observations of him. You silently recognized that Haechan’s way of enjoying attention wasn’t because he thought himself to be the greatest. It was deeper than that. You knew this when he invited you over for the first few times, seeing a lack of parental figures to welcome him home. Watching how his eyes had that distant lonely look at times. As if he were tired of everything.

Haechan hadn’t realized just how much of himself he let show when he surprisingly found himself in your arms one day, his face slowly nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist bringing you closer, sighing with comfort as you gave him all your attention.

And he loved every minute of it. Not only because it fueled his insanely inflated ego but because this was what he craved. Not those who just wanted his body but someone who would quietly love him. Give him all he wanted, all he needed, someone who didn’t take but instead would give. He would always keep you hanging on a thread because he took pleasure in how badly you needed him instead. How he could push you away for as long as he wanted and your hand would always hold his, eyes pleading for the piece he never gave.

He never said anything to you but he always joked with his friends at how pathetic you looked to him. How desperate you were to make him happy. He took advantage of the love you had to give him and although it was messed up, he knew you’d always come crawling back. He wanted attention, he craved it, and instead of looking at him like he was just a beautifully crafted doll, you looked at him like he was all you could ever want from life. Unaccepted flaws and all. He’d laugh at how easily you came back, blaming yourself for anything that went wrong and willingly trying to fix it so he’d look at you with a smile.

It wasn’t until you started working at some cafe that Haechan realized his little toy was malfunctioning. You had always been there for him. Calling him at any time of the day, sending him sweet messages, all of them full of love and worry just for him. Sometimes he’d answer, other times he’d push it off. He was playing a game of tug of war with your heart, sometimes he’d let go, making you tumble and fall. Other times he’d pull you so close, keep you and then step away to watch you fall. It was tiring for you but exhilarating for him. But something had changed and he didn’t like it at all. Your messages had become less and since he had the habit of doing the same on purpose, you barely saw each other.

He decided to test you, telling you he was busy with his friends but it wasn’t true. Haechan had all the time in the world. He just wanted to see what you’d do. And you failed miserably, disappointing him deeply. Three weeks passed and you sent him only good morning and night texts. You offered him the bare minimum. For three weeks, he’d lost his sanity, going to look for you on campus.

At first, he didn’t bother learning your class schedule. But after a while it just stuck. When he saw you, he stood still. Seeing your sad eyes looking at your phone, then resting your head on the wall where you sat. You looked empty and he knew he was the reason why. He just didn’t understand why you didn’t try harder. He remembered the way you immediately dove in for a kiss, surprised at how your eyes just glossed over, something so raw and desperate in you chasing after him. It made him feel wanted, it made him feel loved. It was how he understood it.

Love was a desperate and chaotic feeling. He watched with a sick thrill as to how you played it so perfectly. But what he didn’t realize was that the play he so perfectly played with you had a second lead. Never did he think it possible to lose you to someone else. In his eyes, you were someone others could only have the pleasure of laying eyes on but never anything more. You belonged to him only. He made that clear when he watched how your coworker glared at him.

Who knew that measly little Na Jaemin had a crush on you? Haechan had heard of the boy, came across him a few times, and decided he hated him. Jaemin was such a bore, the textbook definition of a goody two shoes. Helping the poor, volunteering for the community, and all that stupid shit. If anything, the newfound realization made him feel atrociously elated. Seeing as to how he had something others envied and wanted. Your heart and love was all his.

It wasn’t until the day at the bar that he realized, maybe Jaemin was the reason why you were breaking out of your perfect mold. He watched from the sidelines, how the boy had the audacity to put his tainted hands on you. And when he saw his lips brush against yours, the position so provocative, all he saw was red. Lee Haechan was furious that some other guy was touching his girl. You’d always been his girl and he took pride in that. His arm dropped to his side from where he had it around some girl at the bar offering him an amazing time. He was twisted indeed, he’d enjoy your sad jealous eyes pouting at him. Maybe he felt a little too good but he didn’t think it’d come back to bite him.

You would never know how badly you upset him after finding you and Jaemin walking to his car. He’d gotten in the way, knowing you’d say yes to him after he’d offer to take you home. And he’d smirk in Jaemin’s face, he’d gloat all he wanted just to show that you were his. But you did the opposite. And Haechan could almost laugh at how low he’d have to bring himself to get you to go back home with him. But it didn’t work. You not only flatout rejected him but you also uttered words Haechan never thought possible.

You had always loved him. Always wanted to see him happy no matter the price or sacrifices you had to make. Even if it was your own happiness you had to give up. But he watched you, hating the feeling that crawled inside him, one he recognized from when he was ten. He felt his breathing become rapid, nervous even, at how you broke into pieces in front of him. How you wished that Jaemin would be the one kissing, hugging, and touching you in favor of him because his love was reckless. His love was dangerous. His love was something you’d never had the pleasure of having and you were throwing it in his face.

He couldn’t move from his place seeing as to how his power over you started to harm you. He understood he was twisted. His view of love was all wrong, too strong, too much, too bad for your poor heart. But you never left his side and he never changed.

He thought, perhaps, the both of you had to take a moment to calm down. He’d gone home after the whole fiasco, avoiding all the mirrors in his lonely apartment. He had decided to move out a few months after dating you, enjoying his own space. Enjoying the things he could do to you behind closed doors. But also enjoying other company behind your back. His eyes had found a small mirror he had hanging on the way to his room. He noticed the anger, the red eyes that had turned glossy. He couldn’t possibly be crying. Not over some girl. Not over you, anything but you.

His mind did some thinking and he finally came to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t just some girl. You were his girl, he allowed you in and he wasn’t planning on letting go. The next day, when he confronted you, he couldn’t go through with his plan of staying calm. He got upset, his voice rising with anger. He manipulated you into giving into his pain and sadness. He sold his role very well because when you repeated the words he told you he couldn’t help the desire that flared up within him. His hands bringing you closer, lips parted to devour yours, and his body pressed on yours, a sigh of relief washing over him. When you felt the need to breathe, not recognizing this newfound intimacy, he let out a little sound of disapproval. Pulling you back into his burning embrace.

He didn’t have the capacity to wonder how he looked to you in the moment he’d lost all his self control. He blindly agreed to go to the music shop with you. Loving how gently you asked him, still seeking his approval. Lee Haechan always had the habit of breaking up with you and laughed at how you’d crawl back to him. He never saw how badly he’d fallen for you in return. It made the break up hurt like he’d fallen straight into the pits of an inferno.

A few days had passed before he’d seen you. Strangely, you hadn’t texted him at all. He decided to visit you at your workplace to invite you to his birthday party. He didn’t comment or dwell upon it too much but Haechan was looking forward to seeing you. He’d watch that glimmer in your eyes shine whenever they rested upon him. He believed himself an angel in your eyes disguised as the devil himself. He was temptation and you were his willing disciple.

When the words of rejection fell smoothly from your lips, a little bite to your tone, he felt the urge to scream at you. He couldn’t understand you. Why were you doing this to him? You were starting to play a game of push and pull with him and it was frustrating. One moment you were on your knees begging for the slightest bit of his attention, the next he’s chasing after you. You were playing with him, a manipulator you had become, he just knew it. He thought the problem was Jaemin. That had to be it. You were his girl, always would be, the reason you were rebelling against him had to be because Jaemin was poisoning your mind. He knew it the moment Jaemin let an amused smile grace his features. If only he could rip it off of him, he’d feel a lot better.

Instead you broke up with him. He had every right to be bitter with you acting all secretive around him. You couldn’t tell him why you turned down his invitation but you had the audacity to show up the next day to dump him in front of his guests? You had gone completely mental, insane even. It was impossible. How could anyone break up with Lee Haechan? How could you, of all people, even dare to think that you could break his heart? It was pathetic. Laughable.

But days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into a month and he realized with terrifying panic that you weren’t coming back. He waited and waited for your phone call. Waited for you to come crawling at his door, on your knees, hands rubbing against each other with countless apologies deliciously falling from your trembling lips. He looked forward to the desperate look in your eyes, the pain he’d see in them as he played his role of victim well. He could just imagine how pouty he’d look, hurt that you’d thought breaking up with him was a solution. He’d sigh in pleasure, watching how you’d do anything to please him and kiss away all of the pain you caused him. He’d act like he’d given you power over his body when really he would be the one in charge, knowing that everything you’d do would be a result of how to make him feel better.

He then started to feel pathetic. He thought he could easily discard you and his feelings. Throwing you away had to be the easiest thing in the world. And besides, you always made your way back to him. He wanted to believe that you had just lost your way. That had to be all. But one day, he couldn’t hold all the pieces that were falling apart and he broke.

Haechan broke in a way he never knew possible. He saw the look on his face reflecting back to him on his bedroom mirror. The look of someone who was trying so hard not to cry. But he ended up doing just that. He grabbed the nearest object, throwing it straight at the mirror shattering it the way his heart did. He grabbed everything he saw, throwing it in a fit of anger. Having to do something with his body because he couldn’t hold anything in anymore. He couldn’t stand still because it was all too much to bear. The day of the party he had made a mess of the living room, some of the frames you insisted on having in his apartment laying haphazardly on the ground, a bottle of alcohol in his trembling hands.

This was nothing compared to that. Haechan let out painful wails that made his throat feel raw. He felt all this pain and more while sober. And all he could do was let out his sobs, burying his face into the hoodie you’d always steal from. The hoodie that still had your lingering scent on it. He cried so hard that his head started to hurt. He finally accepted all the thoughts that plagued him.

Lee Donghyuck missed you so much it tore his heart into pieces. He couldn’t live without you because you never left his thoughts. Sometimes he’d turn thinking you’d still be there only to be met with silence. He’d get into bed, closing his eyes wishing you were there, thinking that maybe he’d feel your hand entangle itself within his hair, only to be met with an empty bed. He didn’t know who he was anymore. He didn’t know anything else that was going on in his life. All he knew was that he needed you back. He craved and desired you in a way that his body could not be still. He had to hold something, anything that had traces of you on it.

Lee Haechan had been his counterpart. The persona that protected the boy that was under it. Lee Donghyuck was the one who hid, the one who was always writhing in pain, sad and needing someone to love him. But in all his actions to try and protect himself he inflicted the same pain he’d felt. Because although twisted, Donghyuck wanted to mean everything to someone else. He’d found that in you and instead of letting you nurture and tend to his broken heart he broke yours too. He thought you’d always want him. He thought maybe you’d never leave him. But you did and Donghyuck had become the Haechan he knew. He was desperate for any piece of you. Any bit of attention you had, he wanted it.

He tried texting you, then calling but you never picked up. Eventually, you blocked him but he couldn’t process that you’d willingly go into his contact, the one you named Hyuckie with a teddy bear and heart attached, and select block. He’d left you so many voicemails, one after the other. It was worse when he found out that people were saying Jaemin was your boyfriend. You could never do that to him. How could you be capable of giving his title to someone else? That was his place, his spot, how could you!?

He started going out to find you but you always seemed to slip away from him. He just knew that Jaemin was hiding you in the back of the cafe. But you’d never come out and he’d had to leave. He’d come by to your apartment, knocking on your door so incessantly that the landlord had passed by once and demanded he’d leave. He tried to explain, asking even if his girlfriend was there. But the landlord refused to give him any information, leaving him with no choice but to walk away defeated.

He tried to look for you on campus but it seemed as though you were never in class. What had actually happened was that your Professor had fallen sick, opting to give virtual classes for the few weeks it’d take to recover. On the day you went back to in person classes, Haechan found you. You’d barely made it out of the doorway when you heard the familiar voice call you. You didn’t even bother looking at him when you hurriedly went straight to the stairs. Haechan shouted your name, his steps echoing in the hallway.

“Y/N! Y/N wait!” you knew you couldn’t outrun him, giving up as you heard Haechan slamming through the doors, hands pulling you back by your shoulders. When he turned you around to face him, you gasped softly in shock. Haechan was confident, his smokey eyeliner always bringing his eyes a lot more in a way that reminded you of danger. His outfits were always selected with much thought and care.

Seeing him now, Haechan resembled nothing of that. Instead, his eyes showed that he was tired and had most definitely been crying if the puffiness was anything to go by. His hair was a mess, nothing of the beautiful curls that would show at the ends down to his neck. It looked unkempt as if it had forgotten what a comb was. All he had on was a gray outfit made up of a hoodie and sweatpants. When he spoke you were surprised further with the vulnerability he showed.

“Fucking finally, I found you. I f-found you. You’ve been so hard to reach, my phone calls w-weren’t going through? Is your phone okay? Did it break? Do you need-” you cut him off.

“Haechan let go of me.” You look at him expectantly but his eyebrows furrow as his eyes begin to water.

“No…n-no I don’t want to.” He looks now like a child, one who's close to throwing a sobbing fit. And he proves not only his resolve but his strength of not letting you go by pulling you closer into his chest by your wrists. You try even harder to get away when you watch his eyes lower, his lips diving towards you. They land on the side of your neck but that doesn’t slow him down.

"I" kiss "missed you" kiss "so much." When he tries to kiss you again, you bring your hands that are still in his, up to block him. He lets out an angry whine as he pulls them away from your face. He loses his composure at your obvious attempts of rejection.

“Why are you acting like this!? You always liked kissing me before! Don’t you remember how much you loved me? You never let go of me before. Why are you being like this? What’s wrong with you!?” You return his angry glare and Haechan actually cowers this time, his heart hurting at the lack of affection from your part.

“The problem is not me, it’s you! I don’t love you anymore-” those were words he never wanted to hear. They were the wrong words, why were you saying them? It seemed that Haechan was full of surprises because your eyes widened at the sound that leaves his throat. Somewhere between a whimper and a cry.

“You’re lying! You’re a liar! You don’t mean that you’re just saying it to hurt me. B-but it’s okay, i-if that’ll make you feel better than yell at me all you want. Hurt me as much as you need. Just please…tell me you love me. Come back to me please?” Haechan forgets everything as his eyes display all the love you wanted from him. The desperate need to have you in his arms again.

You look at him, eyes ever so softly, your voice not strong enough to yell, “I have a boyfriend Donghyuck.” To you he almost looks drunk, as if his mind can’t process the meaning of your words and instead twisting them into what he wants to believe. He nods repeatedly, humming almost, knowing his next words.

He whispers so closely to your mouth, “Me, it’s me. I’m your boyfriend,” he even giggles as if some relief was washing over him, “I’m the love of your life. Your sunflower remember? I’m all yours.” His eyes don’t leave your features, taking in everything he can. He leans uncomfortably into your personal space, his forehead now resting upon yours. He brings his arms away from his harsh grip on your wrists, down to wrap around your waist. He hugs you with such force that you feel how his body trembles against yours. He looks like he’s scared that at any moment you’d disappear. You feel bad for him but you don’t let it dominate you anymore.

“Now you’re being delusional,” he frowns, “My boyfriend is Na Jaemin and he treats me right. He loves me. Donghyuck, that’s the difference between us. Jaemin reciprocates the love I have to give. You never did.” You begin to understand that maybe he didn’t take the break up too well. His eyes closed shut with such force, you thought he might harm himself with how tense he was. He starts crying so openly, falling slowly to his knees. You see that you’d finally reached the piece that Lee Donghyuck never wanted to give to anybody. But it was too late, you’d given him up already.

He looks up to you, eyes gazing into yours, “N-no. No no no…you said you loved me. Y-you said you n-needed me. Why are you like this? Is it because I was a negligent boyfriend? I was mean? I can c-change,” his words start coming out rushed again, panic in his features, “I promise I can be b-better. I need you to love me so it doesn’t h-hurt. Need you to love..can’t live like this, I can’t live like this,” he starts slurring his words together. Burying his head on your stomach, you feel the wet tears.

“...love you. I love you p-please I l-love you.” As much as you want to, you don’t show his broken heart mercy.

“You let me go first. You threw me away because of your selfish greed. Don’t you see it? You hurt me so much every time you pushed me away. And I know you’d laugh every time you pulled me in because my desperation was your amusement. You made me realize that I deserve better Donghyuck, I deserve to be loved too.” You let out a little hiccup when you feel his features distort into pain once again. His grip hurts you but you don’t do anything more as you try to ignore his sobs. His words act like a self-inflicted poison when he lets them go.

“So what? Is Jaemin supposed to be the one deserving of your love?” he looks up to teary eyed, “I can give you all you want. You have me. I can give you all the love I failed to give. I can be your happiness. We know each other. Perhaps not as well as we should but we’ll work on it. Jaemin can’t make you feel the way I do. He doesn’t know you the way I do. He doesn’t know your body the way I do.” You’re silent for a moment, trying to choose your next words. His eyes are expecting, hopeful, too wishful for the reality you're in.

“You’re right,” you barely get any more words out when he’s frantically getting up on his feet, a crooked smile on his face. He brings the back of his hands to brush his tears away and brings his arms around your waist once again.

“You see! He may have made you feel something but I know you don’t love him like you love me. You probably don’t love him at all. A-and don’t worry because I’ll stop all my bad habits,” his eyes sparkle trying to find the proper words as he stumbles over them, “I’ll stop paying attention to meaningless things. I won’t lie to you ever again, I won’t even look at another girl. I can be a safe boyfriend. I can give you all the love you want. I’ll be everything you want me to be. I’ll stop being reckless and I’ll protect your heart. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved.” You wished that his words didn’t affect you the way you knew they did. Had it been sooner, you’d fall for his words easily. You’d let him kiss you, hold you, and caress you in any way he wanted. But a month was enough for you to give up. A month was enough for another boy to swoop in and make you realize his love was just right. Your story with Jaemin was perfect. But with Donghyuck it was a play of tragedy. Destined to fall apart, leaving one heart more broken than the other.

“Dongyuck, can you just give me a moment?” He looks at you with confusion.

“H-huh?”

“Just stay here,” you try to slowly push away from, “I need to process your words.”

“But you could do that here with me.” You succeeded in getting his arms off of you.

“Please just wait here.” You guide him towards the chairs that were against the wall and he watches as you turn and walk through the doors again. Before they close his voice reaches out again.

“You’ll come back r-right?” You don’t see the desperate yearning on his face. The fear.

“I just need some water.” When the doors close behind you, you stand there for a moment, looking pensive, walking around, and then you walk out of his sight.

He wonders how long it’ll take. His body unintentionally curls a bit into itself, his arms crossing in front of him, hands grasping at his sleeves. He tries to smile thinking maybe you’re going to forgive him. And you’ll get back together and be happier than ever. He imagines going on coffee dates with you. Getting ice cream and giving you those hydrangeas you liked. He never forgot they were your favorite. But he knows he was a jerk for giving you roses instead. He’d apologize though. And then you’d go to the music shop, he’d sing to you and you’d kiss him. You’d wear that pretty dress he bought you for your first anniversary. Speaking of anniversaries, it’s about time he gets you a new ring. A pair with both your names engraved on it to show a new chapter in both your lives.

Donghyuck is sobbing before he realizes the smile he had on was replaced by a frown and then tears. His hands look small, partially hidden in his sleeves as he tries to clean the tears away, hiccups now becoming audible. When he looks at the time, he sees that two hours have gone by. You left him sitting there alone with his broken heart just like he did to you. You weren’t planning on coming back no matter what he did. He had lost you and it was all his fault.

Your love is one of a kind. Your love is the one not worth losing. It should’ve been me. You should’ve been my everything. Now I’m nothing to you. Love me Y/N, I want your love even if you don’t need mine.

#nct dream #haechan #lee haechan #haechan angst #donghyuck angst #Spotify

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neofeliis · 7 months

Text

Tracing the Scars

Tiefling!Tav/Astarion

Note: a Rewrite of the scar reveal scene, in which I wish we were just able to touch him. Like everyone else I was listening to a lot of Sleep Token when I wrote this. Takes place after allowing him to feed, but before trying to seduce Tav.

----

"What are you doing?"

Her voice, sudden but soft, made the typically composed man jump. Astarion whirled on her, face bewildered and ready to defend himself. As those red eyes landed on the shorter tiefling, her gaze nothing but gently inquisitive, his expression shifted faster than he would have liked. But despite himself she was the least offensive person to have caught him feeling blindly at his back.

In as fast a recovery as he could muster, he slapped on that face of haughty annoyance and responded sharply, "Trying to decipher these blasted scars. I can make out partial lettering, but nothing else." He turned from her again, torn from being able to see that terrifyingly calm face and showing her his old wounds.

Astarion had expected her to look disgusted, thrown off, or even to have some form of pity. But none of that was on her face, only curious concern.

Seeing that on her was so very, very frightening. It was a taste of fear that he had not known, or perhaps remembered. Still, she seemed like she was waiting, allowing him to speak first.

"Centuries these have been here and I can't even use a BLASTED mirror!" he shouted, tossing the tunic he had balled in his other hand onto the ground. No, he would not be afraid. He was angry . Anger was familiar, anger was self-preserving, and Astarion had anger in excess. An endless well to pull upon when no other emotion made sense.

Tav did not flinch, only tilting her head slightly at him. She wanted to know more, wanted him to open more to her, but she had to also weigh the possibility he might recoil from that. A wounded beast, where every hand extended was a threat. He may have thought he hid that hurt well, but his mask was one she knew well. "Where are they from?" She asked instead, her tone tentative. A hundred other questions lingered on her restrained tongue.

Astarion sneered, looking to the ground. "Cazador. Lovingly, painstakingly carved for a whole night. Quite the artist, didn't stop until it was just right. " He paused, his body tensing as a new memory assaulted him, "He would start over if I made too much noise." The strength in his eyes guttered, something she had been catching more in recent days. The man worked hard, very hard to keep those moments covered. Whether she could see him better, or he was losing hold on his walls, she couldn’t be sure. But in the firelight, she could see how tight his muscles were coiled. Like preparing for a fight but with no idea when it would even begin.

Against his will, she thought, like everything else.

"And for all of that, I don't even know what it says, or why–," his voice cracked, so soft she almost missed it, "why he did this to me. Other than for his own sick enjoyment." His hand returned to feeling the raised markings, barely able to reach half of them. "Ever since they healed, I've been tracing them trying to decipher what it says, to understand it, but I've never even seen it. I don't even know what language it is."

Tav furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly. So much mutilation, and he wasn't even given the grace of knowing the tongue. "It's infernal," she finally said matter-of-factly.

"I don't need your–" Astarion started a rehearsed snap, but stopped short, whirling once more on her. This time he did not try at all to school his surprise. "You…you can read this?" Something alive glimmered in that voice, something crawling up from beneath the bitter anger.

She tilted her head, lifting a single brow, and then motioned to herself as her tail swished behind her.

He looked abashed, knowing it was obvious, and bobbed his head, "Fair point," he conceded, "but why in the hells would it be in infernal?"

Her brows knit together, and he squirmed under her stare. The vampire wanted to flee from it, never look back, while also knowing he likely couldn't if he tried. "I can't help you with that part, but would you like me to read it to you?"

Astarion balked, thrown off that she would even offer. "I–,” he had played in his head how the rest of this conversation would go, and this wasn’t it. He had to think faster on his feet with her, and he hated it. But still, she was offering something to him he'd never imagined being given, and that was hard to pass up. “This isn't your problem," he replied, voice soft again. Why the hell hadn’t that come out with the ice he wanted?

Tav smiled. Smiled, so gentle it cracked something in his chest. It was the kind of smile you give someone who is hopelessly missing something obvious. "I know, I'm helping you anyway, Astarion. Turn around," she mimed a small turn with her finger, "please."

The vampire hesitated, doubt flashing across his features. It was an act of trust, to turn his back on her at her request. But no one had ever done this for him, and two centuries of not knowing was enough motivation. If nothing else, he could convince himself this was just another way he could use her to his gain.

Slowly, carefully, he revealed his marred flash again.

Tav stepped closer to him, and she watched him tense, peering sidelong over his shoulder at her underneath silvery lashes. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think he stopped breathing, a single ruby eye trying to read her every intention. It was the look of a predator admitting to a truce, but not betraying a single ounce of the danger to anyone who would violate it. He was on the defense, always, and she couldn't help wondering how exhausting that must be.

The tiefling lifted a clawed hand, but stopped and pulled it back just slightly. She met his gaze again and held it, making him feel worlds more exposed than he already was. Mortals were meant to look away, to buckle under that eye contact, but she did not. Still, there was little confidence in her stance now. The moment at hand was tenuous at best, and both felt they were teetering on the edge of shattering it.

"Have you even been able to touch all of it?" she asked, finally breaking that silence.

A beat of quiet consideration, a small guttering of his gaze, "No, the last person to touch it was Cazador."

She knit her brows, considering. Considering her present relationship with him; everything they had been through so far, how she felt about him. How she hoped, foolishly, he might have felt about her beneath all that bravado. Hells, he'd already fed on her…but somehow this felt leagues more intimate.

"Can," the words almost died in her throat, fear trying to claw them back inside. "Can I touch you?"

Something unrecognizable flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. He quickly flashed that terrible, wonderful, dangerous grin at her. "How sweet of you to ask, darling." That word. He'd used it before, far more than once. It felt like a lie every time, the kind you tell to hide something carelessly broken. It was sickly sweet with an acrid aftertaste. Mostly because she found herself wishing it was sincere the more he said it. Like a fool. "Please do," he all but begged, turning away from her completely. To hide his face or to let her work, she couldn't be sure.

But regardless, this was as close to permission as she would get.

The writing on his back was fragmented, like a part of a greater whole; something that barely made sense. Regardless, she moved to where she believed was the beginning of the inscription.

Her first touch, featherlight, sent a shock through him that took every ounce of his control to stifle. To give no indication of. He could try with everything he had, but there was no hiding the tense in his jaw and the way his fangs ground together. He honestly thought she might hear it.

At first, the memory of his old master crashed into him like thunder, an explicit recollection of that pain, the screams he swallowed down that night, the gleefully authoritative tone in Cazador's voice as he carved into his flesh. Mutilating it, claiming it, defiling it. The man, the monster that had done this to him was still out there, and regardless of how far Astarion ran, Cazador was waiting to take him back, to correct his mistakes.

His mind whirled, submitting to the maelstrom that awakened with the contact on his wounds, spiralling down into the open maw of the past. It was a hungry beast, an etherious thing that needed to only be patient for the inevitable. It was going to swallow him whole sooner or later; he was a fool to think otherwise or that he had gained any shred of freedom. Freedom was a lie. Freedom was as foolishly dangerous as hope. He needed only wait for it to be snatched away.

"Breathe."

The images shattered instantly; that simple word banished the darkness from his vision. A sunrise, more spectacular than any he had reclaimed since the infection, warmed over his thoughts. The fears and the horrors of the night found themselves held at bay with one word.

Oblivious to the magnitude of her sway on him, she began to read his markings out loud, moving slowly to find the words in Common. With every word, every syllable, her fingers traced across their respective marks, taking care not to touch him with her claws.

It felt like a banishment.

She was rewriting it.

The tiefling didn't know it, she might never know it, but every new mark she touched eclipsed the last soul to have touched it. The glide of her fingertips, hot to the touch, and the slow, reverent recitations of his markings awoke something. Something deep, entombed , hidden in his chest stirred and brushed against old, rusty bars. He should have balked from it, checked the locks that held it in place. Instead, he found himself deferring to it and his head lolled back, white curls cascading backwards.

Tav finished long before he wanted her to; he would have given her forever to stop. Astarion reveled in his delirium, stoking the feral hunger in his belly.

He wanted more.

More of the woman, more of her touch. Her scent. Her presence. Every inch of her, he wanted it. The hunger made his throat sting, a hunger that should have been familiar, but this one had a different taste. A long-forgotten flavor that had been tainted. How would it have tasted now? Now that it would have only been for him? Now that it was of his own volition, no one else’s?

For so long touch had been soured for him, something he wielded like a weapon for someone else's benefit. He had no value but what he could lure back with everything his body could offer.

But truthfully, Astarion could not recall the last time he had been touched in a way he enjoyed. In ernest rather than lust. In a way that reached beneath the mask to touch the raw, starving creature hidden there.

Perhaps he took too long to snap out of it, because her next word was not one engraved upon his skin.

"Astarion?"

The beast rumbled within. His name, on her lips, was ecstacy reborn.

But she couldn't know. And he couldn't trust himself, either to make himself vulnerable or to hurt her…it wasn’t clear. The only thing that was, was that one of those options was more revolting to him than the other.

With every ounce of his willpower, Astarion swallowed the burning lump in his throat and schooled his face back into control. Slowly, trying not to tremble, he picked back up his discarded tunic and shook the dust off of it. He looked over his shoulder again and produced a small grin that he wanted to be a lot more theatrical than it was. "Thank you. I don't know the slightest bit of what that may mean, but it seems we will have no shortage of time to figure that out."

She smiled at him, easy and effortless. A quiet agreement without an ounce of hesitation. The breath left his lungs, and he saw her how he had not seen her before. For a brief moment, she looked like something more than a means to an end. Which could just as easily spell his own end, and if he knew what was good for him, he would perish the thought. He would keep her at bay, just enough to get what he needed, he keep himself and only himself safe.

But oh, when did Astarion ever know what was good for him?

I am a winged insect, and you are my funeral pyre.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion/tav #astarion x tav #astarion fic

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