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ice-cap-k · 7 months

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Kyanite

So... accidentally read the wrong prompt when writing yesterday's story, so it's getting flip-flopped with today's story. Consider this the day 2 prompt submittal for Whumptober.

Cross-posed on AO3 here: Kyanite

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The emperors blinked spots from their eyes as the flash of light dissipated. The supercharge of magic was depleted. The demon was no longer in the center of the circle. No more charred skin that flickered with the nether’s dying embers. Gone were the imposing horns and wicked grin. Missing was the brother who ceased to be a brother many lifetimes ago.

Where Xornoth once stood was now a cerulean crystal. Its jagged blue facets glittered coldly in the light of the dying flames. The remaining emperors blinked down at it, not really sure whether to believe their own eyes.

Joey was the first to come to his senses. There was an irony to that, considering the demon no longer held sway over him. After all that time under the influence of a master, the man looked lost. “Wha- what happened,” he whimpered. “Where’s Xornoth?”

“He’s gone.” The emperors turned to the man at the front of the circle. The elf’s red eyes were wide. His mouth stretched into a growing smile as the gravity of the situation seemed to dawn on him. “It’s over,” he added, sounding a little less stunned and a little more proud of himself.

Cheers rose up among the leaders. Pearl clanked her sword and shield together in a triumphant battle “whoop” while Gem fired off colorful sparks with her staff. Katherine practically picked up the teal-haired elf at her side and spun him around, despite his apparent discomfort. Joey shrank away, confused by what was happening around him, but Shubble was quick to jump to his side. She would calm him down and better explain what was happening. Next to Scott, she knew the most about what Xornoth was and how he came crashing in to ruin their lives. If anyone could set things right and explain the situation to the newly freed man, it would be her.

There were pats on the back and excited jokes to go around. Someone even passed out golden carrots to snack on and ease the exhaustion of the fight. No attempt was made to clean up the burnt remains of the demon’s lair. If anything, most of the emperors agreed it would be best to leave the magic circle where it was. Gem’s magic was an intricate art that was best left alone.

However, Gem said that the magic of the circle would be fine if they took the crystal. That was fairly convenient, considering nobody wanted to simply leave it unattended. “Here Scott,” Gem said. She held the glittering blue stone out to the elf after the others had gone. He raised an eyebrow at it, but took the stone. “We couldn’t have done this without you. And he’s your brother,” she added with a good-natured shrug. “I figured that, out of everyone, you should be the one to decide what happens to him.”

He smiled, rolling the crystal around in his palm. It really was quite lovely. Not in the way a cut stone looks after the jeweler has polished its facets and wraps it in precious metals to be worn and flaunted. Rather, this stone still had all the frayed edges and uneven facets of a raw mineral freshly plucked from the earth and rinsed under water. Impurities shone like prismatic white frost caught in the blue haze. Even the bladed offshoots of the rectangular base structure were hard white lines against the cold blue.

“Do you know what this is,” he asked, rubbing his thumb against one of the edges.

Gem! Gem it’s me!

His question caught Gem off guard. “Xornoth,” she said, sounding a little baffled. “I know that light was pretty bright but I thought we were all on the same page here. Do you want me to explain how the magic works again?”

He shook his head. “I know that,” he says, sounding pleasantly annoyed. “What I mean is, do you know what kind of crystal this is?”

She let her eyes skim over the deep blue center and delicate white edges. So much like a glacier, or the sea shortly after the crash of a wave, or the sky split by lightning moments after the sun had set. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure it was any known crystal. I never thought the shape he took was supposed to mimic anything in particular. How are you supposed to name something that is a manifestation of a soul?”

Please, Gem! I'm here! I’m right here!

“That answer was a tad more philosophical than I was going for,” he said with a snort. His fingers wrapped tight around the crystal, effectively hiding it from sight. That couldn’t be comfortable considering all the sharp edges. “But I suppose that’s understandable.”

“If I had to describe it though…” Gem started, then trailed off, humming to herself as she flipped through various names of rocks in her head. All those years spent honing the art of magic had familiarized her with all sorts of crystals, elements, and minerals. “To me, it appears to be a kyanite crystal.” Magical soul rock philosophical questions aside, she had to admit that the resemblance between the stone in front of her and the semi-common crystal was there.

“I would agree,” the elf said with a nod. “I suppose that’s considered a gemstone. I could make a necklace out of this to keep track of him.”

Can’t you hear me? Please help me, Gem! Don’t let him do this.

The crystal was promptly dropped into his pocket.

“You’re not going to risk polishing it, are you?”

He sneers. “Of course not.”

“Good. At least it will match your outfit.”

The elf winced. “Yes. I suppose it does. I should probably get changed after this,” he says, looking down at his ruined clothes. The armor kept him safe for most of the battle, but there were netherack smears and soot stains on every scrap of fabric visible beneath the diamond plating.

“Ugh, same,” Gem says. Her hand immediately goes to the burnt spot on the brim of her pointed hat. That was going to need a patch. “This was my favorite.”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

No! Please don’t leave me, Gem! Gem!! GEM!! PLEASE!!!

She started down the steps, leaving just the elf standing at the edge of the magic circle. He waited a moment or two to make sure she didn’t come back before pulling the rock back out of his pocket. There were small cuts on his palm from where he had gripped the crystal tight. Those bladed edges were no laughing matter. He had feared she might have noticed something during their short conversation; heard something that he had hoped he could muffle by covering up the crystal. That had been worth a few small cuts, but despite the wizard’s skill in magic-craft she hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. He was lucky.

One facet was smudged with his own blood. Through the red and the blue and the misty white veins, though, he could see Scott.

____________________

Scott could see the sharp toothed grin through the glassy blue haze of his prison. The face looking back at him was so much like his own, he shouldn’t have been surprised it had his friends fooled. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. Instead of the warped features of the demon staring back at him, it was an almost kindly round face with brightly colored locks. Xornoth had kept up the illusion of teal hair, but illusions only worked if you didn’t know they were there.

Scott hadn’t seen his brother’s true face in over a lifetime. They had the same rounded face and wide eyes. The same shape to their nose and the curve of the jawline. But despite the magic in place, Scott could make out the pink sheen of Xornoth’s hair and glowing red-black eyes. Those same fiery eyes looked deep into Scott’s prison, glaring and triumphant.

“They can’t hear you,” Xornoth says, sounding just like Scott. His words practically bounce off the walls, echoing back to Scott each word ten times over. “None of them can.”

“They’re smart,” Scott says. His voice cracks, sending fractals of light breaking across the crystal’s rough surface like a prism. The fact that Gem of all people hadn’t noticed a thing made him nervous. It was her spell that Xornoth had twisted. She should have noticed SOMETHING. “They’ll figure it out sooner or later. And when they do, they’ll get me out of here.”

“They don’t care about you. They didn’t notice anything was off about you. All they care about is their own little empires,” the elf on the outside said with a shrug. “And even if they did, by then I’ll have seen my plans for destruction through to the end, and have contingencies in place.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Scott insisted, and if he could have pounded on the surface of the crystal, he would have. “They’ll stop you!” He didn’t have a physical body to lash out with, but he had his anger and his hate. Those emotions flared up in a kaleidoscope of broken light.

The crystal lurched. His brother’s angry string of curses sounded distant. Everything swirled in a confusing motion of sudden movements and ringing noises. By the time everything seemed to right itself, it occurred to Scott that Xornoth had dropped the crystal. He could see his look-alike holding his wrist. Shards of ice were falling from his fingers where Scott’s magic had managed to reach him through the crystal’s surface. His face was twisted in a pained snarl. “Why you little…”

Scott almost laughed. At least he wasn’t completely helpless in here. When Xornoth picked the crystal back up, he did so with the fabric of his sleeve covering his hand.

“Stop me? Just like they stopped me today, hm?” Scott felt a shiver run down his spine as Xornoth ran his thumb along one of the smoother sides of the crystal. “Then I would invite them to try. Really, I should be thanking them. If it wasn’t for your friends, I wouldn’t have you right where I want you: in the palm of my hand and at my mercy.” The echoes of Xornoth’s words do nothing to dampen the venom dripping in his voice. Fingers wrap around the length of the crystal and squeeze tight once more. The walls of Scott’s prison haven’t moved, but they feel like they’re pressing in so close they might just suffocate him. The claustrophobia is made even worse by the sudden rise of temperature as if the man outside was actively trying to make Scott as uncomfortable as possible. If he could gasp for air, he would.

“You know, I once saw a possible future where I hadn’t acted fast enough…” Xornoth’s words were muffled behind his grip. “My god showed it to me. A future where your little wizard friend trapped me in Eudialyte.”

Scott had never heard of such a thing, but through the faded back of his consciousness, a picture of a red-black crystal with blunted edges hanging from a gold chain came to mind. And the more he focused on the picture, the more he could make out from the faded edges. The crystal was on a necklace. The necklace was around his neck. It was not a vision of Xornoth wearing an illusion to look like Scott. It was of Scott himself. And he knew deep down that Xornoth was there as well, hanging from the chain. He had the vague sense that his brother was showing him all of this.

“But I also have power, brother. And when there is a second possible target that matches the description of the first, there will always be an opportunity to divert such underhanded tactics."

The pressure on the crystal lessened. Scott felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. The walls didn't feel quite so close.

"Even if you fooled them today, my friends will still figure something else out. They won’t let you have your way. They love their own empires enough to keep you from ruining it all.”

“You say that,” Xornoth says with a roll of his eyes. He’s clearly tired of this conversation. He pulls open his pocket once more and drops Scott’s crystal inside. “But I suppose you’ll just have to sit back and watch them try.”

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no. 2 #i'll call out your name #minecraft: empires smp #creative writing #stolen identity #imprisonment #scott smajor #xornoth #geminitay #canon-divergent empires au #crystal

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crimsonlyinglilly · 7 months

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No. 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You’re a liar.”

early 14th century.

Mikael first notices the boy for his ability, half the size of his opponent yet working his way through his defence with ease, targeting weak points in a neat precise order. It’s afterward when he goes to congratulate the boy, already thinking of ways to convince him to start hunting the monster his children leave behind that he stops.

It’s Kol, for a moment he’s sure it’s his son pulling on a jacket while absent mindlessly accepting his winnings.

It's only when he gets closer and he hears the heartbeat, that none of his children have anymore, that the illusion breaks and he notices the undercurrent of power he’s grown used to with witches.

Still the boy is almost a ringer for Kol, he has to blink to remove the image, it’s not until he is in reach of the boy that he notices he’s several inches shorter than Kol.

“You fight well boy, were you trained?” he asked stepping closer before the boy could leave.

The boy smiles, but there is something about the smile catches in his throat.

“No, sir, my brother taught me what little he remembered from our father.” he's polite in a way Kol never was at least, Mikael thinks.

“Remembered?” he asks, in part to keep the conversation going and another actual interest

“We lost our parents young, before I could remember them, our aunt raised us.” boy offers him as he leads the way out, another pair of fighters entering the ring but Mikael find himself more interest in him than any of them.

“You and your brother?" he doesn't know why he's after more, why he wants to know more about this strange witch that seems to prefer an honest fight to witchcraft.

“And our older sister.” the boy adds.

Like his stolen three, he can’t help himself but as he look closer at the boy and all he can see is the boy’s similarity to Kol and Henrik, the same dark eyes, same hair, same shape of there- no he’s just missing his sons, only sons since the bastard wasn’t his and the witch stole his first born and his little warrior.

“Your name?”

“Right, pleasure to meet you, my name is Elijah.”

The name hurts. Elijah the christian name Esther had chosen for their little fighter.

But it has to be a coincidence, his little fighter was long lost. Likey sacrificed by the witch for some spell before he could grow and truly shed the fragility that her first theft of his Freya had cursed him with.

“If you're interested I'm willing to show you more.” he offered, the boy had a talent and clearly a liking for it, it would be far better to train him than risk him pointless losing if he ever when against a trained opponent.

“Really?” Dark eyes lit up as they studied him, for a moment Mikael thought he was looking at Henrik before the ill informed trip with the bastard had left him scarred.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke to tell the boy where and what time to meet the next night.

—

Elijah knows something is wrong, knows he should have returned to her the moment he felt the bindings on his powers pull, the moment he had felt Dahlia’s rage.

Similar to what she had felt when Finn had tried to escape without the undercurrent of amusement at his brother’s despair, Freya had done something and Dahlia was enraged. He knows staying away is asking for punishment especially since he knows Finn had returned days after the pull.

But he hadn’t been able to force himself to return in the face of the pure wrath coming from Dahlia that was making his back string.

He had always been able to feel more from the binding, at first it had been during his earliest day when he had remained at home with Dahlia while Freya and Finn left on chores, he had always known when they were returning. Over the years it had sharpen into feeling their strongest emotions, after Dahlia bound them with the sleeping curse and allowed them to leave with the knowledge they were forced to return he could feel them all from miles away.

He hadn’t mentioned it much more as he grew up, after Finn and Freya had admitted they didn’t feel the same from it, he knew that Dahlia would use him and it against the others if she found out.

That was why he knew Dahlia was coming for him, had known when she left, leaving a subdued Freya and carefully blank Finn behind and started travelling towards the town he was staying in, he should have started to return then but instead had accepted Mikael’s training.

He was risking the vampire’s life, Dahlia would have no issues ripping him apart in front of Elijah to remind him of his place, but the further Dahlia was from his sibling the better chance they could recover from whatever she had done to them this time.

So he wasn’t surprised when on the fourth night of training Dahlia appeared behind him and dug her nails into his back setting his scars alit with pain, he was however surprised when she let the pain vanish at the arrival of Mikael.

—

It was on the fourth night that he found another waiting for him at the clearing, Elijah had told him that would be his last night as his family was expecting his return, Mikael’s original plan had long flown away and instead he had allowed himself a moment of weakness and pretended the boy was one of his son.

He hadn’t thought the beast that stole his first two boys would be waiting, which was why his shock had frozen him for a moment.

“Dahlia.” it’s barely more than a whisper as Mikael stared at the witch, she smiled at him with her hand rested on the boy's shoulder

She should be long gone. It's been centuries but she was a witch-.

The boy- Elijah it wasn’t a coincidence.

He’s shorter, than Kol, slighter than his other boys, he looks old enough to have finished growing but even Henrik was boarder, it makes sense when Mikeal thinks of the fragile babe he had returned to in the aftermath of Freya’s loss, the loss had weakened Esther while she carried him and so when he had arrived they were not sure he would live.

But he had, just before he was stolen Mikael had seen what a fighter, his then youngest, had been. Then they were both his sons gone.

“Witch!” He snarls but his eyes remain on Elijah, his son, grown.

The boy blinks before turning away from him to look at the woman who took him.

“Do you know him-” the boy- Elijah turned to the Witch and Mikael felt Bile craw up his throat.

“I’m your father, she stole you.” he explains, almost begging the boy to understand, to get away from the monster, instead he leans closer to her, puts himself between them as if to protect her and looks back at him with the smile that has been bugging Mikael for days and he understands why.

It’s Esther's smile, he thinks.

“She couldn’t have stolen me, I belong to her.” the words sink into his gut, curdling his stomach, and cutting deeper than any blade had ever.

The scream that tears out of him is wordless rage, but still it doesn’t stop him from hearing her laughter.

They walk away, her arm linked with his arm, he fights against the magic but it doesn’t lessen an inch instead he’s forced to watch as she walks away with his son, his little fighter.

He glares at her arm, wants to cut it off, tear her limb from limb for touching his children, wants to demand where Freya and Finn are, if they live? The questions never make it past his lips; he doesn't know if it’s because he fears what's worse, losing them again or what the sight of his little Valkyrie and his First born standing besides her would do to him.

He can’t move until they are long out of view.

'I belong to her.' The words echo through the following centuries, he feels them carve their way into his mind, he wakes from nightmares with them still in his ears.

On some nights as he lays in the silence he wishes he had been the one to kill her, had torn Esther’s heart out. After all she was the one that gave their children to the monster, she’s the one that led to their little Fighter tearing out his with four words.

—

Dahlia should punish the boy, both she had Elijah knew it, the boy had offered himself to her the first night they camped after leaving Mikael, knelt ready to accept any harm she decided to deal to him and instead she had run her hands through his hair gently, had watched as he warred against the urge to give into the touch, waiting for the pain to follow.

She had laughed, which had increased his confusion, and sent him to sleep before he could question it more.

When Mikael had first appeared she had thought Elijah had betrayed her, had gone looking for his father, no doubt on his siblings request. So soon after Freya had stolen what was her she may have killed him, but his confusion was so overwhelmingly honest when he turned to her, her not his father, that it had forced her to take a breath and truly see.

And what a picture it was, Mikael realising he hadn’t known his son was in front of him and then watching his son chose Dahlia over him, like Esther had chosen Him over her. Seeing Elijah ignoring the man completely to watch her, with concern, the way he moved to protect her from him.

And the words, oh, Dahlia would remember Mikael’s face at those words for an eternity, those words had scarred Mikael in a way she could never.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #Mistaken Identity #fic #the originals #mikaelson family #elijah mikaelson #Dahlia #Mikael #au- stolen three #the suits hide the mess beneath #fanfiction

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keikaru · 8 days

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love's imbroglio - mystic messenger (Jumin Han/MC)

“I might not have the experience or knowledge like you, but I am a fast learner. Teach me, and I’ll be able to perform within your range of expectations. If I can’t keep up—dismiss me. But before you let your biases muddle your judgement, at least let me prove myself that I am not incompetent to whatever level you hold me at.”

Her eyes narrowed to the same firmness of her voice. She knew her mild temperament was close to succumbing to fury and disgust, but she smoothed her skirt and reigned in her anger. Once the elevator descended to the lobby, she could walk away and forget everything.

In fact, she could have walked away at any moment, damn the consequences. Yesterday, three days ago, last week when the deal was finalized. Yet she stayed. She couldn’t find it in herself to leave—not when her parents’ businesses were on the line. Not when her mother’s high end fashion line and her father’s grand hotels were at stake.

Although she should have been aghast by the severity of the situation, something far greater than those concerns reeled her attention away. Where did her older sister go?

The eldest was all gung-ho about inheriting her mother’s business that she interned and worked along their mother after high school and the following years. Her sister cut back on college classes and managed to be a part-time model and promote clothing lines and promotional items.

Now she—the second daughter—was thrust amid family problems. Correction—family business problems. Her disinterest in her parents’ business was clear, yet she found herself in the very core of it.

Most importantly, why did her sister disappear? And where did she go?

Her knuckles whitened as she curled her fingers into a tight ball. Her jaw was taut with tension. It was too soon to be reminded of her sister. She disappeared just five months ago.

She saw Jumin visibly stiffen, but his face was impassive as he brushed her comments aside with a pointed, sidelong glance. His eyes reflected a cold indifference, almost imploring her to utter one more bold statement that would lead to her resigning by tomorrow.

The air between them was filled with a thick silence. Mingled in with a tension and discomfort on a spectrum she hadn’t known existed until now.

She was going to be fired. She was certain of it. As her gaze caught his reflection in the elevator mirror, she noticed that he crossed his arms—it crinkled the sleeves of his dark tailored suit—and lowered his gaze. He suddenly found interest in the plush carpeting. Likewise, she averted her eyes to the wall beside her. But she had to voice her concern—her irritation about his inability to look beyond the small world he submerged himself in. That, and his obsession with his beloved feline partner, Elizabeth the third. “I apologize for my behavior,” Jumin said quietly, keeping her at a distance. Jumin shifted and leaned his shoulder against the wall. His eyes were trained on the glowing elevator buttons in front of him, but his body partially faced her. “I’ve been under much duress as of late. I didn’t mean to ignore or snap at you this entire week. I’ve been…inhospitable ever since our first meeting. And truthfully, it is not your fault by mine.”

#AU #arranged marriage #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin #jumin han #jumin x MC #jumin x OC #my fic #WIP #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #this was a super old idea with jumin/MC ft arranged marriage trope because of furthering business ties #it features a developing relationship/romance/drama #mc's parents and jumin's dad arranged this marriage #jumin is at first critical of MC but he eventually softens up when they spend time together and he ultimately gives her a choice #if she wants to be married to him #mc is torn because she's still young (early 20s) and figuring out her life and decides to wait #side plot that MC's older sister goes missing (pursue her own things) and eldest sister was supposed to marry Jumin INSTEAD #but then shenanigans happened and MC's parents wanted HER to marry Jumin instead #since jumin has never seen the eldest sister before that's why MC “posed” as the eldest #it's a bit of stolen identities/replacement and jumin pieces it together but doesn't tell MC's family that he knows

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 month

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A Yellow Ribbon

Fandom: DC Comics, Young Justice, Flashfam, Superfam

Summary: Conner's been best friends with Bart ever since they met at the carnival when they were children. The problem is that Bart can't remember meeting Conner that night. But Thad does...

Chapters: 11/?

Characters: Clark Kent, Conner Kent, Lois Lane, Bart Allen, Thaddeus Thawne, Don Allen, Meloni Allen, Jonathan "Pa" Kent, Martha Kent, Max Crandall

Relationships: KonBart, KonThad, Clois, MelonixDon, Ma/Pa Kent

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, Mistaken Identity, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Twins, Lies, Stolen Moments, Unconventional Love Triangles, Misunderstandings, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Family Dynamics, Family Bonding, Best Friends, Secret Crush, Autistic Bart Allen, Autistic Thad Thawne, Thaddeus Thawne Gets a Hug, Conner Kent-centric, Bisexual Conner Kent, Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Third Person POV, Hurt Clark Kent, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love, Farm/Ranch AU, Farmboy Conner Kent, Grandparents and Grandchildren, Unconventional Families, Unconventional Relationship, Romance, Light Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Cyrano, Jewish Superfam

Chapter Eleven: Dungarees and Switcharoos

Conner came in from the rain and changed out of his dungarees in the doorway. “Ma? I had to borrow your sewing kit to mend Toffee’s blanket. How much time do I have?” Conner asked. Ma wrapped him in a towel.

“You have thirty minutes, sweetheart. I ran you a bath, and when you get out, I’ll make you a cup of tea with your dinner,” Ma whispered as she dried his hair. Conner kissed her cheek.

“If Dad calls, can you tell him I promised to check in with Bart today? He got out of the hospital yesterday,” Conner requested.

Ma nodded. “Go on, you don’t want to be late,” Ma whispered.

Meanwhile, in Missouri, Bart lay in Thad’s bed. It was his first weekend home after ten weeks in isolation in the hospital. “Please?” Bart begged.

“He’s gonna know,” Thad whispered.

“No, he won’t. I’ll give you five dollars to do it,” Bart replied. Thad huffed and puffed as he held back tears. “Don’t cry. All I need you to do is pretend to be me and play with Conner for thirty minutes.”

Thad fidgeted with the bottom of his pajama shirt as his heart pounded. “What if he finds out? Won’t he be angry?” Thad asked. Bart opened his arms and pulled Thad into a hug. “I don’t know how to talk to anybody but you.”

Bart frowned. Thad isolated himself for years, hoping they could go home together someday. He didn’t make friends or go out while Bart was sick. Outside of their family, Thad was alone. “If he finds out, you can tell him the truth. He won’t be angry. I promise,” Bart reassured him, “And everyone likes you. They just don’t know you yet.”

Thad let go and nodded. “I’ll do it. And I don’t want five dollars,” Thad replied. Bart pulled Thad close, messed up his hair, and fixed the buttons on Thad’s pajama shirt. They stared at each other, and Thad smiled. “We haven’t been this close in years…”

“I hope we’ll always be this close,” Thad whispered. Bart grinned and nodded.

“Always,” Bart smiled, “We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

Thad nodded enthusiastically, squeezing his fists to contain his excitement at Bart’s newfound hope for the future. He worried that Bart had given up thinking about the future entirely. He crept toward the computer in Don’s studio and shut the door. Logging into Bart’s account didn’t take long because they had the same passwords for everything. He initiated the call and sat patiently waiting for Conner to answer. It rang three times before Conner answered in his pajamas. Conner took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Bart! Hi, how are you feeling?” Conner smiled.

Thad stared directly at Conner, speechless at first. “I’m okay… I’m sleepy, but it’s nice to see you,” Thad replied. He was sure Conner would see right through him.

Conner wrung his hands. “Hey, can I—? It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, so I wanted to tell you over this call because—. Because the letter might not get to you on time. Can I read you the card I picked out? The back-up card?” Conner stammered.

Thad nodded. Conner recited a Valentine that read as romantic with an innocence that seemed too young for even his eleven years. Thad’s cheeks went rosy as he listened to Conner stumble clumsily through a short Valentine’s Day poem. Thad held up the mood ring around his neck and nodded. “I’ll be your Valentine forever and ever if you want,” Thad whispered. “You’re so special.” Conner smiled.

“Gosh… I’m so glad—. How does it feel to be home?” Conner questioned.

Bart. He had to remember to be Bart. “It’s the best. I get to be with Mom and Dad, and tonight, I’ll sleep in my bed. And my bed’s blankets won’t be warm like the hospital’s. They’ll be cold, and I’ll be—. Conner, I’m so happy… And so tired,” Thad answered. He spoke as fast and warmly as his twin. It was almost frightening how perfectly he imitated Bart. “How are you?”

Conner knit his brows together before smiling. “I’m doing great… Yeah, um… My dad’s coming… We’re going fishing at the lake. I’m kinda excited. Last weekend, Mom took me to the movies, and then we had spaghetti at a restaurant… Are you doing anything special with your mom and dad this weekend?”

“My dad and I are gonna work on the mural in Mom’s office tomorrow… And mom’s gonna show me how to fix the water heater,” Thad answered, “Fishing sounds cool. Have you done it before?”

“Fishing? Yeah, I go with Pa a lot… But I haven’t had the chance to go fishing with my dad yet,” Conner answered.

Thad nodded and let Conner continue speaking. He could’ve listened to Conner talk about anything. The only problem was Thad was exhausted. He yawned without meaning to, and Conner rubbed his eyes. “Okay… Well, we should probably go to bed. Goodnight, Bart. Tonight was fun,” Conner whispered.

“Yeah. It was… Wasn’t it?” Thad grinned. Conner nodded. “Goodnight.”

They waved at each other before logging out, and Thad crept down the hall to his bedroom. Bart lay half-asleep as if he were waiting for Thad. “He couldn’t tell. Could he?” Bart asked. Thad shook his head and climbed in on the other side. “Thank you.”

“It was fun,” Thad whispered as he fixed his hair.

As tired as Bart was, he didn’t want to sleep. It was his first night back home. “It doesn’t feel real. Are you real?” Bart asked as he playfully squeezed Thad’s nose.

Thad giggled and shook his head. “Bart, I’m glad you’re home,” Thad whispered. They whispered and giggled until Don poked his head in the door.

“Hey, fellas, I know it’s been an exciting day, but it’s past your bedtime guys,” Don whispered.

Meloni knocked on the door frame. “Hey, are you kids too old to give me a kiss goodnight?” Meloni questioned. The boys laughed and opened their arms to hug and kiss their parents goodnight. They hadn’t been together since Bart and Thad were six. Meloni squeezed them tight. “Is everyone warm and cozy?”

“Mhm,” Bart whispered.

“Thanks, Mom,” Thad smiled. Don lingered after Meloni left.

Don wanted to say something but didn’t want to get choked up. Bart shut his eyes, reached for Thad, and went to sleep. Thad looked toward Don with a smile and tears in his eyes. “I’m too happy to sleep,” Thad whispered. Don grinned.

“Want me to sit with you for a while?” Don asked. Thad nodded. “You’re all he talked about in the hospital.” Don described the seemingly endless list of things Bart wanted to do with Thad now that they were together again. Thad’s eyelids drooped, and he nodded off, resting his chin on Bart’s forehead. “I guess nothing’s changed… Not even the way you two kids sleep… Goodnight, sweet boys.” Don flicked the light switch off and smiled. Meloni startled Don as soon as he stepped into the hall, and she chuckled.

“I got you, Donnie,” Meloni smiled as she pressed her face into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Are they asleep?”

“Sound asleep,” Don replied.

Meloni took in a deep breath, raising her shoulders as she spread her arms. Don hugged her, walking backward toward the kitchen while taking in her radiant look of admiration. “You want me to make you a late-night snack, huh?” Don half-joked.

“You already did… Can I have half your sandwich?” Meloni asked.

“That’s our sandwich, Mel,” Don sweetly replied, “We can finally breathe… Can’t we?”

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quietwingsinthesky · 10 months

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another part of it is that Claire’s identity, their independence, them being a separate entity from Lucifer and not just a vessel for her to walk and talk with, that’s all so important. She is not going to give Lucifer free rein to wear her until there’s none of her left. They’re not going to become their dad. She doesn’t want people to look at her smile one day, listen to her voice, and go ‘that’s Lucifer!’ before they ever remember there was someone else inside, if they do at all.

And so Lucifer is in the position of wrestling with Claire for control of their body, to negotiating with them, to figuring out how to co-exist. Which is! That’s new for Lucifer! Even with Sam, whether she wanted to or not, she had to be fully in charge, they could not move with one will because Sam and her’s goals were fundamentally different. But Claire learns how to work with her.

(And another reason Claire might say yes at all is because Lucifer isn’t playing to some greater plan. She’s making it up as she goes, lashing out as she’s hurt. She’s not some holy soldier descending from above with orders to be carried out. She’s the devil, and she’s understands what it’s like to be abandoned.)

#does this make sense?#they’re a very weird duo #and I think the saying yes part IS fraught for Claire. they do it but it’s difficult. it’s terrifying.#she does it and holds onto her sole purpose of keeping Lucifer from making Claire’s face her own.#and lucifer doesn’t really want that either. so it’ll work out. eventually.#I think when Lucifer appears to Claire (a la midam projection) she does it as nick first #she’s become comfortable being seen as nick. but Claire gives her a different viewpoint. that nick was a person first.#and the thing is that you know Nick would be okay with it. with Lucifer’s face being his own. but Claire isn’t.#and so what I’m saying is true form!lucifer projection.#Claire sits in a diner picking at cheap food. and no one can see it but surrounding them is a mass of wings and teeth and broken halos #all so bright they’d blind anyone else. but *this* is Lucifer. there is no mask. no stolen identity.#and she’s terrifying but Claire’s getting used to looking at her. slowly.#(she was Not okay the first time. she freaked the fuck out. but they’re getting better about it.)#claire novak #lucifer spn #spn #claire possession au

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sapphireginger · 9 months

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Title: Mis-Taken From Me

Summary:

Stiles was a writer, having obtained a master’s degree in creative writing and literature. For the last two years he had been writing a novel. Now after several months of making sure it was perfect, he took his work to a publisher.

Prompt: Author AU

Warnings: None

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Word Count: 868

@mfbingo

However, he barely got started with his presentation when he was being escorted from the premises by security. The head honchos at the Silver Spring Inc. Publishing Company threatened to sue him for copyright infringement, theft, fraud and many more if he dared to show his face there again. Stiles didn’t fight them on it, feeling completely lost and numb. He didn’t understand how he could be charged with such things when it was his work.

It was when Stiles was walking back to his apartment from the publishing company that he came upon a display at the local bookstore. There, in the front window, sat his book titled, He Ignited My Spark under the pen name, Mischief Managed. Stiles’s eyes welled with tears of frustration. It hurt him deeply to see the name. Mischief had been his mother’s nickname for him and well Stiles also adored Harry Potter. Now, both of those things felt tainted, and he hated it.

It was now abundantly clear that Stiles’s book had been stolen and someone was reaping the benefits of his hard work. Not only that, but they used a name that people would believe belonged to Stiles. He hated to think that someone close to him might’ve been the one to do this, might’ve been the one to betray him.

Next, he checked online and found out that the book, his book, had become the number one bestseller in the world and was being displayed in the front windows of over a hundred stores across the world. It even had the top spot on the New York Times Bestseller List which had always been one of Stiles’s dreams. That made this all the more heartbreaking for him.

After grabbing the bare necessities from his apartment, Stiles quickly drove home to see his husband, Peter. They lived in a country home, but Stiles had been staying in the city apartment the month leading up to his presentation to Silver Spring Inc.

When he pulled into their driveway, Stiles saw that some of his friends had texted him and others had messaged him on social media. His phone was blowing up, each notification another chip against his armor and another slash of pain to his heart. Everyone was congratulating him, thinking he’d chosen a pen name.

Red_Queen: Congratulations Stiles! What do you say to a shopping trip just us two? You’ll have interviews no doubt and it’ll be good to get you looking the part. 💋

Catwoman: Hey Batman! Look at you go! Clever name! I approve! We’re having an HP movie marathon for our next hangout!

Scarf-aholic: Hey man! Nice job on your book! I get an autographed copy, right? Did you put your favorite person in it? Aka me?

Thumper: I am never wrong but apparently this time I was. So, congrats on the NYT Bestseller Bambi! We have to celebrate. Drinks are on me, okay? 😉

The more Stiles read, the more depressed and hurt he became. He turned off his Jeep and headed inside, not even caring that he ended up soaked by the sudden rain. It just added to his already terrible day.

Peter was in their kitchen when Stiles arrived home. When the wolf went to greet his husband, he noticed right away something was wrong. However, before he could ask about it, Stiles silenced him with a kiss, plastered on a small smile and turned away from the wolf.

Stiles had no energy to speak, not even to his husband. He was hurt and even more so because no one had realized the book wasn’t Stiles. The amber eyed man headed to the bathroom to shower and tried to forget for tonight that his work had been stolen.

Peter was one of the smartest people alive and it didn’t take much to figure out what had happened. What was rage inducing was that he was the only one who had figured it out.

When he realized what had happened, Peter was pissed. His mate had gone to bed without eating supper, had curled into a small ball in the middle of their bed and was wearing Peter’s clothes. The sight was setting off all of Peter’s protective instincts.

With a snarl, Peter paced back and forth in the hallway just outside their bedroom door. His gums were itching, and his claws kept repeatedly sheathing and unsheathing.

After a few moments, the wolf halted his movements and his mouth stretched into a malicious smirk. Oh, Peter knew exactly what he was going to do. He kissed his mate’s forehead and scented him. Then he headed to his office and shut the door firmly.

It looked like it was time for the alpha to revisit his little black book and his little red book. No one who made his mate cry deserved to breathe let alone have all the accolades that were rightfully Stiles’s. Oh, yes. Peter would fix this, and he would do it now.

#mfbingo #multifandombingo #teen wolf #square filled: author au #steter #steter week 2023 #steter week #stolen identity #hurt stiles stilinski #emotionally hurt stiles stilinski #protective peter hale #morally ambiguous peter hale

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cupofwater6 · 2 years

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can't find the post at the moment but if McWexler and Tomshiv met up not only would Tom's identity be sold within the minute of leaving whatever dinner they went to, Mondale would also mysteriously disappear from their apartment the next day after one of Jimmy's inside guys remarked at how he's in a pen all day

#im sorry kim would not be their divorce lawyer she would aid and abet in several crimes to fuck them over with jimmy #i said it before but jimmy would be their lawyer. hundreds of hours racked up on their heavy ass brick weight black credit card #now in an AU? or something? kim and shiv teamup of the century. and tom still gets his identity stolen idk he just seems like a guy who #is prone to having his identity stolen and sold #ramble

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empty-blog-for-lurking · 4 months

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Hmm shared reality au for the 5 hcs thing? Obsessed w this au

Thank you for the ask!!!

According to Kuron, he was born without his right arm while Shiro lost his in the "car crash", so sometimes he jokes about how Shiro stole his thing, or how they match. Shiro used to laugh at this but now he kinda just stares with a thousand yard stare

Lance doesnt know his own name and often introduces themself as "John/Jane/Johnnie Doe", you know the name police give to unidentified murder victims? Lance thinks she's funny

The person who killed Lance is still out there and for now his motivation is to Deal with that murderer either with the help of law or against law

Allura's mom will tell you that Allura was very into photography and she's getting back into it. Though she doesnt know it is for different reasons

Allura's also developed taste for extremely sugary sweet food

#empty answers #Thank you for asking!!#stolen identity au #ask meme

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drenched-in-sunlight · 8 months

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since I’m drawing more of them, here is a bit of background for my x2 Prowler PunkFlower AU (mix of comic and animated canon and my own delulu):

- Hobart started out in a life of crime because he felt trapped by his circumstances (this follows the comic canon, he is the youngest of 9 siblings, but his dad left early, mom was an alcoholic, and eventually even his big brother left. Even though he was a tech genius, he struggled to make a living). Then after his right hand was injured after a job for Kingpin, he was saved by Peter (let’s say in Earth 42 Peter is not Spiderman, instead he runs a company.. which is also comic canon at one point).

Parker Industry gave him a prosthetic and provided a healthier environment for Hobart to grow, they sponsor him to be a kind of vigilante to keep the city safe (again, this is a bit based on the comic canon, but in the comics he was paralyzed from the waist down for a while, he also worked for Parker Industry for some time).

- For Miles G. after his father died, there was a time when he lost his direction in life. He was haunted by the fact that he could not protect Jeff. Earth 42 is already chaotic, he doesn’t know how to protect his mother (since Uncle Aaron also has his own business and can’t stay with them all the time).

- One night when he was walking back home, Miles was stopped by a robber, normally he could protect himself, but that day his mind was spiraling so badly and before he knew it, he was cornered. That's when Prowler saved him.

- Hobart was just on duty, the alley was dark so he couldn't see the other boy very well, he just turned his back to tie up the robber and told Miles to go home, it's very dangerous here.

- At that time, the Prowler symbol on the back of Hobart’s jacket seemed to engrave itself in the back of Miles’ eyelids - a call to fight, a call to protect. He made a decision then.

- Miles immediately ran to Uncle Aaron and told him of his intention to be a vigilante. Aaron was hesitant at first, but Miles said that if he didn't train him, he would go find the Prowler himself and ask him for help. Aaron was worried that Miles would be taken advantage of by others, so he accepted to train and help him create tech.

- After a while, the two of them started blowing things up left and right in Brooklyn with Miles as the new Prowler, that was when Hobart realized that there was another guy running around in his symbol (there is a whole theme in the comics where Hobie’s Prowler gears keep being stolen by other ppl to impersonate him 😭)

- He thought about telling the boy to stop, but seeing Miles punching criminals, confronting villains who are many times bigger than him yet was still not afraid, Hobart became… curious? Want to know who that person is, why do they do this.

- Of course, when they meet, Hobart still asked Miles to not to carry his logo around, but Miles stubbornly argued that anyone can be a symbol, and he would not dishonour this one.

- In general, Hobart was impressed with Miles, but it took some time for both of them to gradually trust each other. After more than half a year, Hobart took the initiative to tell Miles his true identity, Miles then also took him to meet his uncle.

- After the two became closer, Miles began to help Hobart repair and maintain his prosthetic. Hobart also began to doubt his future in Parker Industry. He had never liked to be confined to a system, and although Peter helped him a lot, he still wanted to be his own person, fought for his own ideals. So as soon as Miles and Hobart were able to fix his prosthetic on their own, Hobart left Parker Industry and moved in with Miles.

- They started dating after 2 years of knowing each other (Aaron thanked heaven and earth that his nephew finally stopped blue-ball that Hobart boy, his head hurt every time he has to witness their awkward flirting 😭😭), when Miles G. met Miles 1610, he and Hobart had been officially dating for a few months.

So basic timeline: first meeting Miles G. was 13 / Hobart was 15 -> worked together as Prowlers team at 14 / 16 -> Hobart left Parker Industry / they started dating when Miles is 15 and Hobart is 17 -> meet Miles 1610.

Well that’s all for now, so when I draw that AU it’s based on that groundwork. Cheers!

#*pull up a whole bulletin board*#here is the lore to this AU I completely make up in my head #punkflower #x2 prowler au

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leori-the-unlearned · 2 years

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having so many leoryu thoughts. love her

#she has a secret identity and a hidden touchy backstory and shes just an average village girl doing alright #shes actually not that angsty… yet :)#and then she gets kidnapped and hypnotized into attacking her friend and stolen away by whisper to calm down #and she has a pet chao that is proof Chaos didn’t decide to kill her where she stood #and i already have an au of her. an au of an oc. heck yea #leoryu #leoryu the wolf #leori words

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sykosugu · 27 days

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♤♢ on the run ♧♡ | one

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go. a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ aw smut, shower sex, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, both are being manipulative in their own ways, cum play, choking if you squint, I think that's all tbh its all so numb to me at this point. if I missed any pls let me know!

♡ currently: completed

♤ taglist: closed

♢ wc: 3.4k

♧ carlile speaks:chapter one is finally here! I hope you're all as excited as I am. @celestie0 did get a lil sneaky sneaky bc I can’t resist her reactions! but based off of said reactions, I'm thinking you're all going to like this one! enjoy my babies!

♡: previous part | you are here | next part

You often sat back and thought of how you and Suguru came to meet. The infamous meeting outside the bank that nobody ended up knowing about. Then, looking at now, the “home” you’ve created in this hotel room. Suguru, still under the guise of the detective on your case, the hotel room in his name is down the hall; he never actually stayed in there. He’d never let you out of his sight long enough to sleep in a different room. It’d been that way since that very day. You’ve been attached ever since. Over the course of your time together, he’d learned almost everything about you. Or so he’d thought. You told him a plethora of information; but not all of it was your information. Bits and pieces of people’s identities you’d stolen in your time as The Red Queen. Bits and pieces of your truth mixed in with their truths. You’re still not sure if you’d tell him the truth now, for you fear how he’d look at you now after trusting you so much.

Much to your initial dismay.

Being attached to a cop was less than ideal. He didn’t understand your lifestyle. He was details and late night stake outs. You were lavish and luxury.

And a criminal. But semantics.

It took a lot of convincing for him to let you continue your scores; he was not too keen on it. But with the promise of him being able to help, he eased up on the opportunity.

In your mind, everyone usually got their items back. If they met your demands. Usually a large lump sum of money transferred into an untraceable off-shore account that would then be deposited into another untracable account that only you had access to, but was in a fake name.

Suguru was not a part of your plans. Then again, neither was getting caught and taken by him. But then again falling for him was the furthest thing from your plans.

That first night, he’d handcuffed you to the bedpost, and just talked your ear off. Talked about his investigation against you. Talked about the late nights he’d spent thinking over the details he couldn’t get right. He somehow thought you were fake; an idea. He thought you were just a guise someone used because nobody had ever really seen you.

Nearly a week in, you tried to resist his charm. Tried to resist him. He was just so drawn to you. He was undoubtedly gorgeous. But he was quite literally the enemy. He could change his mind any time and take you in. Of course you don’t understand how he really feels for you, but he’s not too keen on showing you how much just yet. He needed to gain your trust first; and you his.

Suguru was a sweet talker. Oh boy was he. “C’mon, pretty,” he’d smirk at you. “Know you want some,” he’d hold out some of the california roll he’d been eating. The sauce sticking to the corner of his lip. The pad of your thumb reaches up absentmindedly and swipes it away, tucking the appendage into your mouth while maintaining eye contact.

His eyes darkened at the sight. He’d ravish you here and now if you’d let him. “Mm, no thank you. I got enough from your mess,” you giggle, gesturing to his face.

He chuckles in response. “Well, you haven’t eaten anything since I brought you here. You have to eat something, Ru.”

“Ru?” you look at him with puzzled eyes. “Where did that even come from?”

“It’s cute and suits you.”

“I’ve never had someone describe anything about me as ‘cute’ you grumble, shifting to tuck your knees underneath you on the bed.

“Mm, and how else would they describe you?” he asks, inching closer to your side of the bed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, detective,” you giggle, tucking his hair behind his ear. His breath hitches at the ghosting of your fingers over the skin of his face. You smirk. His skin heats up. You full on smile. “What’s wrong, Suguru? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re making it very difficult to keep my composure,” he’s turning and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, facing away from you. You take the opportunity to lift up on your knees, placing your free hand on his shoulders. “Ruby,” he warns.

“What, detective,” you whisper in his ear. You have him where you want him. He just needed to trust you before you could make your move.

He reaches up, grasping your wrist and pulling you as he shifts his seating on the bed, forcing you to lay across his lap looking up at him. “That’s enough,” he says, eyes somehow a darker shade of brown.

“I was just getting started,” your big doe eyes looking up at him, a sly smile on your face. You reach up, cradling the side of his face. If you can get him to trust you this way, maybe he’ll take the handcuffs off and you can get back to your life. “C’mon, detective. Live a little,” you mirror his words back to him.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says darkly, tracing the features on your face with his pointer finger.

“Think i can handle it,” you close your eyes as he starts leaning down towards you, eyes locked onto your lips.

Sliding out from underneath you, he dips his knee into the mattress, leaning over you, trailing his hand up your side. His fingertips teasing your hips and ribcage, making your breath catch from the tickle sensation.

“Mm, is she ticklish?” he asks more to himself, leaning down near your ear. “I can work with that” he whispers, taking your lobe into his mouth, the post from your earring colliding with his tongue ring.

“Please,” a strangled moan leaving your spit slicked lips as he attaches his lips to your neck. He chuckles against the skin.

“Please, what?”

“Please, touch me,” you whisper. He suspiciously eyes you from above, not entirely convinced of your change in heart.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” he asks, standing from the bed, making you roll off the side, wrist still bound to the post. You stand to look him in the eye across the bed. You’re fuming at this point.

“No, I think you’re a pain in my ass who threw a giant wrench into my plans, and for what? You’re not turning me in. You have me handcuffed to this bed, which only makes me think even worse things about you,” his eyes soften at that. He doesn’t want you to think he’d ever do something like that. “And you haven't told me anything,” With that, you take your seat back on the bed.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he whispers.

You laugh. I mean full on cackle. Tears start trickling down from all the laughter. “That’s rich, Detective. You don’t even know me.” you’re snapping at him now, He just lets you yell at him. You don’t understand the severity of what he’s doing. “How is kidnapping me and keeping me here with you, keeping me safe? There are people who expect me to get jobs done, Suguru. All you’re doing is putting both of us in danger.”

“Someone’s been trying to kill you,” he says matter of factly, sitting back down on the bed, facing away from you again.

“Y-you’re lying,” leaves your lips in the form of a whisper. No. Who would be trying to kill you? You thought you’d left everything in good standing when you decided to leave and drop the Red Queen title. You’d been trying to make a name for yourself, even though your entire MO is to not be seen or noticed.

“I’m not,” he promises, raising his right hand into the air, “Scouts honor.”

“W-who would want me dead?” you ask, more so to yourself than to him.

“A lot of people,” he quips. Suguru turns and faces you again, sliding closer to you on the bed.

“Okay, well I could have told you that. Who specifically to make you think a complete stranger needed your help,” the tone of your voice growing more and more irritated with each word.

“Toji Fushiguro.” leaves him in the form of a whisper.

Toji? Your Toji? There’s no way. He was your saving grace when you decided to leave and go off by yourself. He was the one who helped you. He was your best friend. Or so you thought. How could Toji betray you this way? Maybe staying here for a while isn’t such a bad idea. But you still need him to trust you. “Now I know you’re lying. Toji would never try to kill me,”

“Would you like to see the file I have?” he asks, motioning over towards his wall of evidence, the table beneath it covered in manilla folders and loose pieces of paper, pictures and crumpled up newspapers.

“Will you take the handcuffs off?” you ask, a flicker of hope flashing in your eyes.

“Well what would be in that for me?” he asks darkly, his hand reaching to caress the side of your face. You lean into his touch. Right where you want him.

“Would you like a continuation of earlier? Perhaps in the shower this time?” you grip his wrist, pulling his touch from your face, nodding your head towards the bathroom.

“Mm, now you’re speaking my language.” he grins at you, sliding to get off the bed again.”How can I trust you though?” he asks, fingers grazing over the handcuffs.

“You just told me you have proof that my best friend is trying to kill me. I don't think I have a good excuse to be alone with that in my head.” You lean down and kiss him. He’s taken aback but kisses you anyways.

“Best friend?” he asks, reattaching your lips. He pulls the key from his pocket, sliding it into the slot and unlocking your wrist. Taking it in his hold, he rubs the red marks left behind.

“How sweet,” you internally roll your eyes.

“Well, former best friend. He’s my ex’s business partner but he was always my friend when I was there,” You roll the two of you over so you’re straddling his hips, keeping your lips connected., sitting up, wrapping his arms around your middle, holding you as close to him as possible. He places his hands under your thighs, standing from the bed as he walks you to the bathroom. Setting you down on the floor, beginning to take your top off.

“Your ex?” he asks, reaching for the button of your jeans.

“Mhm,” you assist him in the removal of his shirt after sliding your jeans down your legs. Suguru leans into the shower, setting the water to a good temperature before returning to you.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, slipping his fingers under your bra straps to help you pull it from your body.

“So sure,” a sly smile forms on your face. You lean up, attaching your lips again as you reach to unbutton his dress pants, pushing the material down his legs. Right where you want him.

“Which ex?” Suguru breathes out, your lips wrapped around his cock.

“You really wanna ask me that question right now?” He nods down at you. “Mm, detective, hasn’t anyone ever taught you about time and place?” you tease him, licking up the underside of his dick. “I’ll tell you after, if you excite me.”

“Oh, Ruby. You have no idea.”

His hands find a grip in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his length. His moans fill the air as well as the gurgles falling from your lips. “S-shit, Ru, th-that’s so g-ood,” his voice breaks, the feeling of your throat engulfing his every thrust has his head in the clouds.

“Gonna cum down my throat, Detective?” You ask, pulling yourself off. Offering a stream of spit onto his cock, circling both of your hands up and down as you suckled on the tip.

He nods frantically, “If you don’t want that, better stop now.”

You double down, speeding up the motions of your hands, swirling your tongue over and over the tip. ‘Gimme your cum,” you moan around his cock.

“Oh, f-fuck, Ru,” he’s breathless, “C-cumming!” moans escape him, his hands tightening in your hair. Right where you want him

Running your hands up and down his cock, milking every last drop of his cum onto your tongue.

“D-don't swallow it yet,” he breathes. But you’re one step ahead. You dribble his cum back onto his length, using it as lube to continue jerking him off. “Ohh, you filthy girl.”

“The filthiest,” you moan, taking him into your mouth again.

“J-Jesus, Ru, you’re so good.”

“I know,” you gloat a little, standing from your spot on the floor; keeping your hands on his cock, jerking and jerking and jerking him off, “But now it’s your turn to impress me.”

Suguru pulls you into the shower with him, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, inviting your tongue into his mouth. He searches every crevice of your mouth, tasting every bit of himself on your tongue.

He sinks to the floor, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder. “I’ll have you reeling in no time, Ru.” Right where you want him. Wasting no time, he dives right in. Tongue slipping between your folds; nose bumping your clit in a delicious rhythm. One of your hands finds the shower wall, while the other anchors in his raven colored hair. Pulling his hair tie off, letting his long hair cascade around his shoulders, and frame that face, He looks angelic. Mouth full, eyes closed; he looks like a dream when he’s quiet. Although you appreciate the vocalness when it’s because of you. “Tastes so sweet,” he groans, reattaching himself to your cunt.

“Might be the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

“Hm, now you’re just trying to seduce me,” you tease him, running your fingers through his hair.

“What gave you that idea?” he grins up at you, sliding two of his fingers up your leg, tantalizingly slow, before having them join his tongue; prodding into your depths to make you a mewling mess before him.

“F-uck, suguru, right there.”

“I had a feeling,” he gins against your cunt, sliding his face all around the surface; really getting in there; making your back press against the wall for support. You’re close to losing your footing until his other hand slides up your hip, holding you firmly in place against the wall.

“D-Don’t you dare stop,” leaves you in the form of a moan.

“What’ll happen if I do,” he’s teasing you now. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“I’ll–k-kill you,” both hands are tangled into his now soaking wet hair. Looking down into his eyes, there's a glint of lust in there at your threat.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he winks up at you, “But, I’d like to see you try, Ru.”

“Fuck you–hggn, oh god–Keep, go-oing, so close,”

“I got you, sweetheart. Give it all to me,” he coos, working you up into your release. His hand smooths down the expanse of your tummy before his thumb settles on your bundle, rubbing fast circles to milk every ounce out of you and onto his tongue.

“Oh, Oh g-god, Suguru,” you’re a panting mess above him, he just watches on with lustful eyes; reveling in the fact that he’s got you under his thumb.

Literally.

“Yeah? Gonna give me another?” he asks, diving back in with his tongue, You attempt to push his head away, but he’s got the upper hand since your legs feel like jello.

“C-can’t. Need a minute,” you slump against the wall, fingers gone limp in his hair.

“Oh, but where’s that attitude now? Hm?” He stands from his spot on the floor, hiking your leg over his hip.

“She’s still here, just gotta catch her breath for a second.”

“Mm, no time for that I’m afraid,” he swipes the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering some of the water and arousal left behind. He searches your eyes, asking for silent permission. Nodding your head, he begins to ease his way inside; albeit slowly due to his size and your less than active sex life lately. “S-such a tight squeeze, Ru,” he pants into your mouth, “N-not sure if I’ll fit,”

“M-make it fit, Detective,” with that, he smiles down at you, pulling himself from your cunt and spins you around to face the tile wall. Suguru presses your chest to the wall, commanding you to keep your hands–“Just about, here”--on either side of your head, palms flat against the wall. Pulling your hips back to get that perfect arch for him, hes swiping his cock through your folds once again,

“Make it fit, you say?” he teases from behind you, offering a smack on your right buttcheek, “Don’t mind if i do,” and he’s pressing in. No resistance, just presses inside, holding your hips firmly in place so you can’t escape the sensation. Cries and pleas of ‘oh my god, more,’ leave your lips at every inch that makes its way inside of you. Suguru reaches around you, stimulating your clit once again to help with the sting; stilling his hips against your ass once he’s fully sheathed. “Gimme a kiss,” he moans out, pulling your head back by the nape of your neck to sloppily cover your mouth with his.

“Sugu,” a moan falls from your lips.

“Ooh, that’s a new one. I think I like that,” he teases once again. “Need something, Ru?”

“M-move, p-please.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he slides his arm across your chest, holding you back against him as he begins a brutal pace with his hips. Over and over, his hips collide with your backside. Every thrust feels harder than the last. He’s got your head spinning. Every nerve ending feels like its been set ablaze; a fiery sensation begins pooling in your gut with the combined feeling of his length pressing every good angle inside your pussy, mixed with the feeling of his fingertips on your clit; plus the fact that your air supply is now getting restricted as the arm that was across your chest reaches up to firmly grasp the front of your throat in a headlock. You topple over the edge, seizing against his body in his hold. “There’s a good girl,” he praises you, “Gonna let me cum inside this sweet pussy? Hm?”

“Uhuh, mhm,” you choke out, “Fill me up.”

“With pleasure, Ru,” and he’s emptying himself deep inside; squeezing every ounce he can into your sensitive depths. Every drag along your plush walls has all of his nerves on fire as he begins to come down.

“Now, which ex were you talking about?” He asks, pulling himself out, watching in awe as his cum spilled out of you.

“Oh my god, you’re still thinking about that after what we just did?” You ask, wrist reattached to the bedpost for an entirely different reason.

“Mhm, wanna know who I have to make you forget,” he smirks down at you, reaching to unlock your wrist for the second time tonight.

“I wish you could, if I’m being honest. I hate him,” your voice quiet.

“Who is he?” His fingers rub circles on your wrist.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” your voice shakes; his face pales. “The Red King.”

That night was almost a year ago though. You and suguru have been secretly ‘seeing each other’, though the other still has no idea of the other's intentions, while you wait out the plan you’ve made against Toji.

But after you’d asked him one question, you’re certain your feelings changed in that moment.

“Why do you always call me Ru?”

“Probably the same reason you call me Sugu,” he smirks at you, swiping a piece of your hair behind your ear as you two lay in bed after a long love making session after another successful score of yours. “Ru is short for Ruby, but it's also the ending of my name. Sugu, Ru. I have a hard time believing it's a coincidence that we met.”

“Well duh, you’d been tracking me for almost a year, remember?”

“Hush,” he kisses the crown of your head as it lays on his chest. You turn to look into his eyes, “I call you Ru because..You complete me. Just like how you complete Suguru,” he places a kiss on your nose, “You were made for me, Y/N.”

♡ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @carlacujo @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl @phoenix-eclipses

(pls make sure ur settings are right to get tagged!

#geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk geto #suguru geto smut #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru #geto suguru x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru #suguru geto #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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sattlersquarry · 8 months

Text

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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