Steve Harrington Smut Imagines

When You Get Kidnapped|| jk

A/N: Stuff is about to get HELLA SIRIUS.

More Steve Harrington in the next update!

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Your captors were certainly possessed a backpfeifengesicht. You hoped that someone would capture one day discover the truth and deliver a slap across their face. You almost smiled at the possibility of your desire becoming a reality.

In hind sight, your argument could have easily been avoided and perhaps, you wouldn't have ended up in such a fearful predicament.

If he hadn't have been so harsh with his words and you, so quick-tempered then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have stormed out of the apartment, right into the hands of those who had been observing you for months.

They had only wanted you for two reasons and for two reasons only, Joe was rich and he loved you. If they had you in their possession, then they had access to a large sum of money in the young Keery's bank account.

As one of the hellions exited the room, you gazed upon the table, eyes focused on the delicate violet pattern on your dress. An omen of bad luck, you noted mentally. A fairly pointless piece of knowledge to have but it brought you some comfort, despite your dire situation.

The dress itself caused you to have a nostalgic recollection of times when you had worn it previously and had participated in sobremesa with Joe. You remember the pleasant times when you and Joe had sat and talked after consuming a delicious meal, just talking and enjoying each others company.

As you breathed against your uncomfortable gag, you experienced a dizzying wave of hiraeth- you longed for your home. Closing your eyes, you envisaged the worried gazes of those who loved you when you failed to return home.

The fiends were asking for an astonishing amount of money, an amount even you knew Joe did not have access to.

You also felt the unmistakable ache of fernweh, for your biggest regret was that you had not travelled enough in life. It was a longing that had stayed with you for years but sadly, you had never stepped out of the place you had been born and raised in.

You knew that you would never have the opportunity to return home or indulge in the luxury of your wanderlust. For soon you would be dead.

Money or no money, your kidnappers were never going to let you go.

It was no secret that you were athazagoraphobic. The fear of being forgotten once you had passed on was one that had plagued you since you were a child. You wondered if one day, once the deed was done, if people would completely forget you and it would be as if you had ever even existed. Death had a way of erasing the past completely. If enough of the living forget, you could become but a ghost- a faded photograph.

Thank goodness you were an eternitarian. The belief in an afterlife was the only thought that provided you with some comfort in what was going to be your final moments.

As you closed your eyes, tears of sadness and fear now dried upon your cheeks, you allowed yourself to fall into a state of wabi-sabi. Finally accepting the cycle of life and death. You had lived and now...

... you had to die.

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A/N: Should I write a part two?