#yearing

[allthestarshaveareason]

Oh I’m sick.

HAD to write a ff about this scene

[lizzygrantforever]

Steve harrington x reader

Summary: you and Steve been situationships for a while. You want way more with him, but you feel like he’s not over Nancy yet.

A/N: Hii guys, wanted to make a situationship vibes with Steve. Lmk if you enjoy and if I should make it a series!

Warnings: fluff, teasing, arguments, angst.

You met Steve at a party, he was a bit drunk and so were you. But you remember it like it was yesterday. He recently broke up with Nancy the whole school knew. You thought you were just a silly one night stand. Till he kept seeing you way more often than a “friend” would.

You would have intimate conversations it felt good to be with him and even kiss him. But there was always something holding him back with being with you. You didn’t know if he was embarrassed by you. Or his ex Nancy.

He talked about Nancy a lot, you just thought it was his way of moving on. But the more he talked about her the more it seemed he wanted her back. Everytime you thought you and Steve were going somewhere he would always get back with Nancy.

Now here you were with Steve laying down in the grass together from biking. It felt so intimate, as if you were at the lake with your boyfriend. But you weren’t cause Steve didn’t think the same. You didn’t know if he liked being with you or he didn’t like being alone. Yet there you were always by his side.

“Can’t believe we graduated” you said as you turn to your side to see him looking at the sun. Steve sighs, “me too.. and yet I still have no clue what I’m going to do.” You were silent letting his words sink in. “Me too..”

Steve sat up as he yawns, “high school was fun huh?” You shrugged “sometimes yeah.” You said being a little more stand off with him. And he could tell you weren’t happy like how you use to be. Maybe you got tired of always having to reassure him about the same things.

Steve sighs as he looked down at you seeing the way you avoid his eyes kinda hurt his feelings more than he thought. “You look pretty in the sun.” You gave him a tiny smirk “thanks.” You got up as he took your hand and guided you to the lake.

Steve smiled as he went near the deck and took off his shirt and left in his shorts, as you took off you shirt and pants left in your underwear and bra. Steve was already getting into the lake as he jumped as you laugh getting splashed. “Oh my god!” You screamed as he laughed.

“Hurry up I can’t be swimming alone.” He said as you took off your watch and jumped off the deck. Once you landed into the lake with him he gripped your waist as he held you.

Little moments like this made you like him more and more, but you knew where is heart will belong too. Steve carried you as he threw you into the lake. “STEVE STOP!!” You yelled as he laughed as you splash water back onto him.

Steve smiled as he came closer you and held you as you try to get away from him but that didn’t work as he laughed watching you fail. “Oh baby C’mere” he said and kissed you. As you guys were kissing he stop out of nowhere. “Shit.. what time is it?..” he asked as you swim over to the deck and checked your watch.

“2:30” you said and turn over to him as he sighs. “Fuck I’m late.” He said and got out of the lake and putting his clothes on. You watch him get dressed as you were still in the lake. “Where you going?”

Steve sighs as he looked at you. “Nancy.. uh we have a date tonight.” You were silent as you should’ve knew better. “Of course.” You got out of the lake quiet you didn’t bother to talk more to him. “Hey I’m sorry.” You hurry up and put your clothes on and getting your bike and leaving as you try so hard to keep in your tears.

“No.. no don’t go let’s talk” he said desperate but you already left. He watched you bike away as he sighs as he looked down at the ground, you forgot your watch he bought you. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He had to give it back to you.

On your way home biking, you couldn’t believe he would be kissing you in the lake then go off and have a date with Nancy. “Why am I so stupid?”.. you thought. Once you made it back home your mother smiled seeing you. “You’re home early..”

You nod, “yeah uh Steve had work so.. hangout time was cut short.” You lied and sat down at the dinner table. Your mom sighs, she knew about you and Steve and she knew if she interfere it be a mess. “i hoped you had fun.” You nodded as you drink water. Your mother was silent before she spoke up.

“You remember Oliver?..” your mother asked as you raised your eyebrow. Oliver was your childhood friend you use to hangout with in Italy. You were always in Italy as a kid since you had family over there.

“What about him?”.. you asked as your mother smiled. “His 20th birthday coming up.. and I wanna us to go for vacation.” You smiled thinking back to Oliver. He was your first love but did you really wanna leave Steve?

“How long are we going for?” You asked as your mom smiled. “2 months, not just for Oliver but for our family too.” You were in shocked but excited maybe being away from Steve will help you get over him and rekindle your relationship with Oliver.

“Does he even remember me?” You asked blushing a bit. Your mom nods. “Of course he does he called me earlier talking about his party and wanting you to come especially.” Your heart flutter. “I can’t wait to see him, when do we go?”

Your mother looks at the calendar, “in one week..” your eyes widen would that even be enough time to fix things with Steve? “Okay.. well I’m going to go ahead and figure out what outfits to wear.” You said rushing up going upstairs as your mother smiled. She was happy you had something to do and looked forward to seeing Oliver.

As you were busy thinking about Italy and Oliver your mother was downstairs as she yelled. “OLIVER ON THE PHONE.” Your eyes widened and rush downstairs, “let me.” You said as you took over the phone and that’s when you hear Oliver’s voice, it was so beautiful the way he talked made you miss him more.

“Ciao, bellissima” Oliver said as you smiled. “Hey Oliver..” you were already blushing just hearing his voice.

“How have you been.” He asked, you smiled “pretty good.. I can’t wait to see you.” Oliver chuckled over the phone as he smiled. “Me too.”

You finally ended the conversation hours later. You didn’t think you miss someone from so many years ago. It was nice catching up with him, and you couldn’t wait to see him either. But in the back of your mind you couldn’t help but think what was Steve doing. “Is he kissing Nancy?” “Why does he always go back to her?” You thought.

As you were now laying down in bed, it was 3 am you couldn’t sleep at all. You had way too much on your mind, first it was Steve then Oliver.. you knew you didn’t have to pick Steve since he’s with Nancy again. But something always tells you to keep being near him.

You decide to get up and go out to the lake. It be nice to go out and enjoy the weather alone. Maybe it’ll help take things off your brain for a while.

You went over to get your jacket and hurried to put your shoes on, as you went downstairs as quiet as you can. Once you were finally outside you got your bike and went to the lake. It felt amazing being alone riding your bike with the air in your face.

Once you made it to the lake you went pushing your bike down and seating on the grass. Laying down on the grass watching the stars made you miss Steve. But in your heart you felt like going to Italy and seeing Oliver you might move on from Steve.

It did scared you a bit from moving on from Steve. You were never his girlfriend he would never tell people that. But when you were alone with him it felt like that and he knew it too.

The only thing that really scared you was, if your connection with Oliver isn’t good and Steve moving on with Nancy. You knew why he loved her so much. She was beautiful, smart, caring you felt like you couldn’t compete.

As you were overthinking all of sudden you see Steve. He was out of breath as he ran to you. “I knew you be here.” He smiled as you sigh. “What do you need now?”

Steve smiled kinda faded as he sat down next to you. “Oh um.. you’re watch you left it.” He gave it you as you took it back and put it on the ground next to you.

“How come you didn’t answer my calls?” Steve asked as you didn’t even look at him. “Was calling someone else, beside why call me when your on a date with Nancy.” Steve looked down at the ground. “Um.. I didn’t end up going I found her with Jonathan.”

You were silent, now you felt like a dick. “Oh..well sorry I didn’t answer.” Steve nods as he looked at the lake. “Um.. who were you calling?” He asked as you sigh. Should I tell him the truth? You thought.

“My.. my friend who lives in Italy. His name is Oliver.” You said short and simple. Steve frowned he definitely didn’t like the idea of this Oliver guy who’s Italian. “How do you know him if he lives so far?”

You sigh “well I know him since I was a kid and I would be in Italy till I came here.” Steve nods “huh I wished you told me that before.” You roll your eyes. “Why would I tell you that? We only really have sex Steve.”

Steve scoffed. “That’s not true you know that, cmon we have more then sex.” You scoffed. “Right Steve we have way more that’s why you always go back to Nancy.” You said a bit harshly but it was the truth. Steve looked at you stunned and hurt. “Really? Why do you always bring her up huh? It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” He said which you didn’t take lightly.

You got up as you looked at him hurt but mad as hell. “Yeah Steve I’m so insecure” you said sarcastic. “I’m so insecure that I’m leaving here soon and I’m going to Italy to be with Oliver so maybe Oliver can take away my insecurities.”

Steve scoffed and got up “really? Just gonna go to another man huh?” You smirk. “You do the same with me and Nancy.”

Steve was quiet as he took your hand. “Look.. I’m an ass I know that but I truly don’t need you seeing this Italian Oliver guy.” You move your hand away from him and stand your ground.

“Steve no.. you’re lying to me like you always do. Stop saying you love me when you don’t. Why don’t you want me to be happy huh?” You said trying to keep your tears in for some reason it was a touchy subject.

You went over to him now face to face with him. “I am going to Italy okay? Maybe Oliver the right one for me I’ll let you know when I come back 2 months later.” You said as you can see Steve eyes start to water. God it hurt to see him like this, but it was important to tell him the truth and how you felt.

“Don’t bother to say goodbye either.” You said as got your bike and start to bike off. Steve stand there watching you back off as a tear fell down his face as he looked at the grown and mutter to himself. “Why do I do this to myself?..” as he looked down at the ground there was your watch staring right back at him as a cruel joke.

He knew in his heart it was you. But always in the back of his mind he thought of Nancy.

A/N: sorry if it was short maybe part 2

[flowers-in-book]

what substance do i have to abuse for this unbearable feeling of yearning and limerence to finally go away ?

[u9h-as-if]

And the deep glen sea dreary (Remmick One Shot)

A/n: I’m on a trip to Iceland and visited the Gullfoss (the “Golden Waterfall”). There’s a plaque there telling a 17th-century love story. It says that crossing the river Hvitá above the waterfall is nearly impossible to wade and unlikely even on horseback. Yet, according to legend, a young farmer’s son from Brattholt managed to cross it. He spent summers herding sheep upstream, while a girl from Hamarsholt did the same on the opposite bank. With the river between them, they watched each other from afar.

That story naturally made me think of Remmick before he got turned, and I wrote this on the bus ride back to the hotel.

Parings: Human!Remmick x Reader

Rating: SFW

Themes: yearning, impossible love.

Remmick found not peace but a tolerable stillness at the lip of the crag, the sort granted to a man who has exhausted resistance. The land ended there with no ceremony. It did not fall away so much as withdraw, relinquishing itself to distance and thunder, as though the earth had grown weary of continuity.

He returned in all seasons. Rain stitched cold needles through his coat; winter hardened the stone beneath him until it seemed he sat upon bone; summer light exposed every fissure in the rock with merciless clarity. The wind alone remained faithful, tireless, interrogative and pressing against him as if determined to discover how little would suffice to unmake him.

Yet he never approached too closely.

He kept the careful distance of one standing beside something sacred or irrevocable: a grave not yet occupied, a truth not yet spoken aloud.

Below, the wade split the land open. No gentle river passed there but a violence imprisoned in motion, water flinging itself downward with such relentless fury that the air trembled continuously, as though the world endured a wound that refused healing. The roar persuaded the mind of depth; without it, one might have believed the torrent plunged endlessly into nothing.

Across that impossible breadth lay the other shore.

It troubled him. Heather consumed the hills in royal excess, purple trembling under the wind until the land appeared almost animate; breathing, shifting, alive in ways his own barren side refused to be. Grass rose thick and indulgent despite grazing cattle, and light lingered there unnaturally, softened as though reluctant to depart.

His own ground endured. That one lived.

He seated himself upon the same stone each visit, a ritual he would not have named devotion yet practiced with religious precision. Between caution and desire, between endurance and surrender, he felt suspended, diminished by distance yet enlarged by wanting it.

The tiompán rested across his knees.

He played softly at first, notes scarcely surviving the cataract’s fury. Sound dissolved almost instantly into mist and thunder, yet he persisted, gaze drawn always, helplessly, toward the far bank.

He told himself it was the landscape he watched. He never believed it.

The melody came before he saw you.

A thread of humming crossed the abyss, impossibly slight, carried not above the river but through it, as though the land itself remembered the shape of your voice and delivered it intact.

His breath faltered. He opened his eyes with absurd caution, fearing recognition more than disappointment.

Your form stood among the cattle like something half-born of the heather itself. The wind took liberties with you, worrying your hair loose from its confines and pressing your dress against the shape of you so that you seemed both creature and current, earth and motion at once. He could not see your features, the breadth between you robbed such intimacy, yet he knew you in the way one knows a star: by constancy, not clarity.

You had come again.

Relief struck him with humiliating force.

He straightened, fingers tightening upon the strings. On days when mist erased your shore entirely, he moved through the village with unnatural gentleness, performing kindnesses he scarcely felt, bargaining silently with a world deaf to negotiation. As though virtue might purchase visibility. As though restraint might earn revelation, but now clarity punished him.

The gulf appeared wider in sunlight, its refusal absolute. No crossing suggested itself. The river pronounced judgment endlessly. Still, you turned. Only slightly.

Yet, the movement landed within him like recognition long awaited.

He smiled then, not the guarded civility known in the village, nor the solemn composure he wore before the precipice, but something boyish and ungoverned. A smile born of relief.

If flesh could not cross, sound would attempt it.

His playing changed. Notes rose fuller now, insistent, reckless with declaration. Not beauty but presence drove them forward.

I am here.

I have not ceased.

Across the divide, you delayed your gaze, bending instead to the brown cow beside you, palm moving along its flank with studied calm, but your smile betrayed you. You heard him, not merely the tune but the agitation beneath it. You knew him by sound alone. You imagined the rest.

At night you constructed his face from fragments: the broad angle of his shoulders against the wind, the inclination of his head when listening, the urgency hidden inside restraint. You knew, with the stubborn conviction reserved for faith, that his brow was strong, his eyes gentle, his nose unmistakable. No one might have told you differently and been believed. You granted him warmth, wit, gravity; qualities invented yet fiercely defended.

Distance permitted adoration safely, where no one could mark the warmth rising to your cheeks, though he never could have seen it.

The heather bowed around you in lavish bloom while his cliff remained stripped and austere. Life gathered on your side with careless abundance; his endured through severity alone.

It seemed impossible that such nearness required obedience. The chasm did more than divide. It forbade.

Neither of you tested it.

Still he played.
Still you listened.

No word survived the river’s thunder, yet something persisted between sound and silence, not promise, not hope, but recognition sharpened by impossibility.

And perhaps it was the impossibility itself that preserved it.

Then, impossibly, you did what he had never permitted himself to imagine.

You sang.

Your voice rose uncertainly at first, searching among the notes of his tiompán until it found purchase there, threading itself through his melody as though it had always belonged within it. The song was an old town air, known on both sides of the wade: older, perhaps, than the division itself. A tune carried by travellers long dead, proof that once, before memory failed, others had crossed where he could not.

His hands faltered. Only for a breath.

The string gave a startled tremor beneath his fingers before he mastered himself again, terrified that even the smallest hesitation might break whatever fragile mercy had been granted him. He played more carefully now, listening as fiercely as he performed, shaping the melody around you, accommodating you, yielding where he never yielded.

You knew the song. How many more? How many evenings had you stood there listening, learning him piece by piece without his knowing? The thought struck him with a dangerous warmth.

For one suspended moment, the chasm seemed less absolute. Sound moved freely. Breath answered breath. It felt, absurdly, perilously, like companionship. Then your voice stopped. Abruptly.

A bell rang somewhere behind you, sharp and earthly, its clang carrying even across the roar below. You turned at once, your posture altering in a way that chilled him more surely than the wind ever had. Recognition crossed you, not of him, but of something waiting elsewhere. Something claimed. Something real.

A life beyond this brink. He played on. Louder now. Insistent. The melody pressed forward, urging, pleading without dignity. His fingers struck harder against the strings, each note driven outward as though force alone might hold you there. Pain flared along his fingertips; he scarcely felt it. The instrument shuddered beneath his grip, wood groaning softly under the violence of his need.

Stay.

The word never left his mouth, yet it consumed every note.

A distant shout followed, perhaps it was your name. Whoever called possessed certainty he never would. You listened. Truly listened. Your attention shifted fully away, drawn back toward warmth, obligation, belonging.

His hand tightened around the neck of the tiompán until the tendons stood stark beneath his skin.

Don’t look away.

Please.

You glanced back once, a small, almost apologetic motion, the same careless acknowledgment one might grant a beautiful view before leaving it behind.

Then you turned.

Heather closed around you as you walked, swallowing colour and movement alike. Past the grazing cattle, past the rise of soft ground and familiar paths, until at last there remained nothing but wind disturbing empty bloom.

Still he played.

He played long after you vanished, long after reason insisted you could no longer hear him. The melody unraveled beneath trembling hands, losing form, repeating itself without conclusion. Only when the final note broke thinly into the roar below did silence return.

It struck him then with quiet brutality:

you could leave. He could not. He didn’t want to, didn’t need to.

A tightness gathered in his throat, unfamiliar and humiliating. The opposite bank remained radiant and indifferent, unchanged by departure.

The wind rushed upward to meet him, filling the space where your voice had been. When it rose again across the wade, he lifted his hands to the strings, lest she return and find him silent.

[sapphicscarlett]

When your talking to her about your day and she’s looking at you listening to you and you look into her eyes for a second and you see her eye fucking you then you fall over your words and she smirks knowing exactly what she’s doing to you and you just sit there embarrassed she caught you but still wet 🤭

[webweabings]

I NEED YOU SO MUCH CLOSER

“How Was Your Day?” (2020) song by beabadoobee; // Quote by Franz Kafka, from the collection of letters “Letters to Milena” (1952); // “Want” poem by @fragmentallygirl. (deactivated); // post by @cadaverbride (2019); // earlier post (2020) by @ouiwegirl (Pinterest); // post by @craigslits (deactivated); // pin by @samanthahammack (Pinterest); // “Miles Apart” (2017) song by Nick Wilson; // post by @intothe-blues-blog ; // pin by @tischmitt (Pinterest); // Art by The Merchant Company ; // n y l a (2019), song by Blackbear; // post by @leohearts (2016); // unknown.

[willbyersglazer]

category is: byler in another universe