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hongjoongsart · 4 days

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Too Sweet | Jeong Yunho

🥃 Summary: Two complete opposites who are quickly falling for each other, one wanting more but the other afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

🥃 Pairing(s): upcoming rockstar!Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

🥃 Genres/Tropes: upcoming-rockstar au, opposites attract au, what could have been, fluff, angst, suggestive, hurt/no comfort

🥃 Warnings/Tags: Fem!reader, no use of Y/N, kinda yunho centric, explicit language, insecure yuyu, use of alcohol, smoking cig, arguments, mingi is a good friend, mention of religion and satan, stereotypes about rockbands, post-orgasm conversations, making out and brief nipple play (f receiving), a lot of crying, sad ending, not beta read and MDNI!!!

🥃 Wordcount: 19.9K

🥃 Author's note, pt.1: It's been a while....Here's a lil something inspired by hozier's too sweet. The way I have so many drafts for this story in different AUs. I couldn't decide whether to make it into an Idol AU or not, so I did a mix. 😭 It wasn't supposed to be that long either but apparently I have no limits when it comes to writing lmao. Keep in mind that I have little to no knowledge about instruments, rock bands, etc, so everything I know is from given (the anime), KISS and wikipedia. English isn't my first (or second) language, so if there are any errors please do tell.

AO3 masterlist Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent Yunho in any way or form.

The first time Yunho laid eyes on you he knew you’d never be his. Not because of some ancient family feud forbidding you from one another or because you were star crossed lovers in a dystopian world. No, it wasn’t anything dramatic like that.

You’d never be his because Yunho would simply not let it happen.

Yunho jumped off the makeshift stage set up in the corner of the saloon that waited on them each Friday night and walked through the drunken crowd of people. The band finished their weekly gig at Crescent and were being treated to drinks by the owner for bringing such a big crowd to the bar.

Slightly hunched over the counter, left forearm pressing against the smooth wooden surface while the other idly rested on his thigh and feet propped on the footrest, Yunho silently thanked the bartender for the drinks. One for him and the other for his bandmate seated to his right. The drummer brought a lot of attention to them, with his bleached hair styled to get that disheveled spiked look and handful of tattoos and piercings littering his body. Despite the flashy details, Mingi was quite the eye-candy. His thick lips and equally big and straight nose, made him popular with the ladies as well as the men, and not to mention his chiseled jaw. A big pair of shades covered his fox-eyes – he was too lazy to smudge some makeup on – and the miniature face tattoo reading ‘fix-on’ inked on his cheekbone, unlike the big butterfly on his neck that was fully exposed.

Yunho usually didn’t like sitting at the corner of the long bar, but it provided more space for his long legs and a better view to the rest of the room which, on second hand, he was grateful for otherwise he’d miss the door opening and the group of girls coming through. Each was different from the other, he thought as he skimmed past them only to back track at the last one trailing in.

Staring at you from across the room – a place he never imagined a speck of purity in – he swiveled the drink in hand, allowing the whiskey to swish around in the bottom before tipping his head back and letting some of the brown liquor cascade down his throat. Despite having a speaker right above his head, your angelic laughter still managed to reach Yunho’s ears and it was better than any melody performed by the next indie group. Eyes wandering down your figure, body clad in a white sundress with a pattern of miniature pink roses, he stopped at the heart shaped front giving a little tease of what hid beneath. The fabric hugged tightly around your torso and hips, then widened like a flower in bloom and stopped right above your knees. A gold necklace with a delicate heart pendant rested subtly near the crevic of your chest. Arms and legs bare, only a matching golden bracelet glinting on your right wrists and nails painted in white. You wore the cutest pair of pink ballet flats Yunho had ever seen and it brought a little smile to his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Mingi asked with a teasing tilt to his voice, a brow curiously arched and bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

Yunho shook his head and took another calculated sip of his drink.

“Nothing.”

“Right, so you didn’t just plan a marriage with the angel-look alike overthere, huh?” Mingi nodded towards the girls who were inching closer to an empty table. “She seems sweet.”

And sweet you were. Oh, so sweet. From your strawberry lip gloss to the notes of your brown sugar and vanilla perfume lingering in the air. Eyes twinkling in the dim lights and nose scrunching before a giggle came out at one of your friends’ jokes, hand automatically going up to cover your mouth.

“Well,” Mingi started and tapped his fingers against the bar, “if you’re gonna shoot your shot about now would be the time to do it.”

On cue you passed the two giants and stopped to the left of Yunho where you could get a clear view of the bartender, and hopefully catch his attention. Being the one to cancel the last outing, you took it on yourself to pay for the first round of drinks as a way of apologizing to the girls even if they didn’t chastise you for it.

You were prettier up close, Yunho thought as he scanned your profile. Pretty lips, gorgeous eyes and captivating makeup.

“Hey,” he finally said and slightly turned towards you.

A friendly smile splayed on his face and ears were slightly red either from his drink or the warmth from the heavily packed bar. Never one to turn down a conversation, you greeted him back with upturned lips and faced the front again. Luck wasn’t on your side as the bartender brushed past you on multiple occasions, eyes filtering over you as if you weren’t there. Not giving up, you let out a huff of annoyance and stepped closer. Standing on your tiptoes – not that you needed it, but maybe then you’d get his attention – and arms crossed over the surface you followed his movements, eyes burning into him but to no avail. The man took order after order and not once did you get the chance to speak up. Yunho, who watched the whole thing play out, slightly raised his hand and the bartender spawned before him in seconds. Lips parted in disbelief, you couldn’t believe how easy the dark haired man made it out to be. There you were, waiting like a dog for a crumb of attention while he got it with a lift of his fingers.

“This pretty lady has been wanting to order for a while now,” Yunho stated calmly, yet his eyes were hard as steel.

Saying nothing, the bartender turned to you with a raised brow, quietly urging you to spit it out.

“Two mojitos, one martini and mai tai, please.” As the bartender got to work, you thanked the guy with the helping hand.

“No worries, it tends to get rather busy here on Fridays…That’s a lot for just one lady though.”

“Well, this lady didn’t come alone.”

In any other circumstance, Yunho would interpret the statement as snarky and a telltale of not being interested but your soft spoken words said the complete opposite.

“Ah, there go my plans of buying you a drink.”

Taking a better look at the man you realized he was quite handsome. Face full of delicate features; a long nose, thin cupid’s bow mouth and eyes soft but dark as the handful of oak trees outside. The smokey makeup fit the whole wanna-be-rock-star-look and so did the ring protruding from the left side of his bottom lip. His mass of black and burgundy hair was ruffled up and parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Blue pants with interesting design swirls fit around his legs and he wore a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his perfectly formed biceps and shoulders. A bunch of silver necklaces hung around his neck and each finger was adorned with one or two rings; some thin and plain, and others thick and covering whole digits. So not only was he handsome, but had a good fashion sense too. All he was missing was the sleeve of tattoos and you’d dub him a real rock star. Eyes crinkling and lips pursing in an almost teasing manner, you decided to take a huge leap of faith.

“Who’s to say you still can’t?”

The teasing remark indicated you didn’t know he was a member of Blue Bird and it sent waves of relief through him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want you to know about the band, but most people that did only approached him because of it and not his personality. Starting a conversation with ‘fuck me like a rockstar’ quote unquote, wasn’t the best way to get into Yunho’s pants.

“Perhaps the partner you came with.”

Yunho’s chin rested against the palm of his hand, brows slightly raised and lips quirked up.

“Lucky for you, it’s just me and my girlies.”

“As much as I’d like to crash ladies night, let’s do this instead. I’ll give you my number and you text me when you’re feeling for another drink, on me, yeah?”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, you subconsciously leaned closer to him. Slightly swaying side to side with eyes trained on him, completely missing the entertained look on Mingi’s face who watched the interaction with glee. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d pick a person up from a night out, even upcoming rock stars had needs to quell, but something was telling Mingi you weren’t interested in a quickie in the bathroom. Forever engraving the image of his friend smiling at a girl that was the complete opposite of him, Mingi smiled. Perhaps you were the cube of sugar Yunho needed with his all too bitter coffee.

The second time Yunho laid eyes on you he really wished for things to work out. That despite your differences you’d find a balance solid enough to keep a healthy relationship. While Yunho usually wasn’t a naive guy, his adoration towards you weighed heavier than any rational thought screaming at him to cut the interaction short. Wanting to bask just a little more in the sunlight that was you, Yunho decided – for once – to be selfish.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when you stepped foot in a, you wouldn’t call it a rundown neighborhood but it wasn’t that wellkept either. The playgrounds made for kids were far from eye-catching with the once vibrant colors taken over by rust that even you – an adult – wouldn't try out the rides. The navigation in your phone chimed as you entered a white building identical to the other structures and began climbing the several flights of stairs, re-reading Yunho’s instructions of how to get to his place. Chest heaving and cheeks ablaze, you sent three rapid knocks against the door. One would believe the resident’s surname to be somewhere near but that wasn’t the case as only the apartment number in metal was drilled on the wall beside. The door swung open and you were greeted by a smiling Yunho, the lip ring glinting in the corridor lights.

“Hey, I was worried you wouldn’t find your way here but you’re a pro.”

While you weren’t dressed in a cute sundress, you still looked as sweet with your pink knitted sweater and light blue pants. What really took his breath away were the bright bows in your hair. If you were the sun then Yunho was the moon with his dark bottoms and identical hoodie thrown over the only bright fabric on his body.

“Now you know not to underestimate me, Yunho.”

Hands thrown up in surrender, he walked backwards as you followed in tow.

“Consider the lesson learned.”

The apartment was neater than expected – white walls, laminated flooring and a few family pictures hanging here and there – considering it was in the care of two guys and the interior proved that as the living room solely consisted of a sofa big enough for two with a small coffee table in the middle and the biggest plasma TV you had ever seen nailed to the wall. On the brightside there weren’t any dirty underwear or rotten leftovers lying everywhere.

“Well this is my place, or mine and my roommate’s, but still welcome.”

“It looks nice,” you honestly responded and that counted as a victory in Yunho’s books.

“Thank you, obviously I do all the furniture shopping. My friend isn’t all that interested in the interior of the place as long as we have somewhere to sit and sleep.”

The kitchen was shaped in an upside down L with black tiled floor starting from the threshold, the walls were still white. The slimmer and oblong part consisted of black marble counters and the usual mechanics that had a little shine to them telling you they cost a good penny. In the wider part of the kitchen was a round table and a set of four chairs. Black curtains were drawn together yet you could make out an empty balcony through the small gap. There weren't a lot of miscellaneous decorations in the place, as if the apartment was barely in use but to stay the night. Taking a seat by the dinner table, you rested your chin against your palms and smiled as Yunho opened the fridge.

“Ah, is that why there’s a massage chair in the hallway?”

The cold temperature chilled Yunho’s burning cheeks. Collecting himself, he slid you a can of coke and took out the rest of the preparations he needed to make dinner.

“That’s one of Yeosang’s many dumb investments, once again why I’m in charge of the interior.”

“He’s the one with the neon green hair, right?” You recalled as the different faces came to mind.

“Yup.”

It dawned on you that all of Yunho’s friends were strikingly handsome, but Yeosang was by far the prettiest. With a face of both sharp and soft features he was sculpted better than any ancient Greek statue, and possessed a jaw sharp enough to cut through skin. His eyes were large and dark but with a gentle shape to them, just like his heart shaped lips. A raspberry smudge bloomed by the side of his upper cheek, another pretty and heart shaped detail to his already unique face. His hair was long enough to be tucked behind his ear with some neon green strands falling in his line of sight. This man could very well fit in the Louvre and no one would bat an eye.

The afternoon continued pleasantly as dinner was made. Yunho, who had barely any cooking knowledge, relied on you who relied on an online recipe. Saving you the trouble of accidentally burning down the kitchen, Yunho decided to cut up vegetables and prepare the table while you were responsible for the chicken and ramen that turned out great considering neither having prior-experience of making a real meal. The success was celebrated with a brand new flask of wine that Yunho apparently saved for special occasions, completely dismissing your protests.

“So what does the Yunho do for a living?”

The question wasn’t foreign to him as everyone back in Gwangju asked it – some out of spite and others with genuine curiosity – yet anxiety seeped under his skin, raising the hair along his arms as his doe eyes widened. Noticing the lack of mischief behind your choice of words, he willed himself to relax and masked the surprised expression with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Considering we barely know anything ‘bout each other…yes.”

Despite having alcohol in your system you noted the hesitation flash across his features, shoulders sagging and fingers slightly clenching around the utensils. It hit you that everything besides his governmental name – and the fact that he lived with a roommate who was working late – was undisclosed. For a moment you entertained the idea of Yunho going under a false name or that you could possibly be on a date with a geondal. Why else would he invite you to his home and not somewhere public? You made a mental note to share your location in the group chat just to be on the safer side. The motion of his hand going to scratch the back of his neck plunged you out of your wild fantasies.

“Okay, but it might come as a shock…or not, we’ll see.”

That did not help his geondal-agenda and Yunho took notice of your sudden silence, quickly waving his hand in a no-motion.

“It’s nothing bad I promise. It’s just…not a normal nine to five job and it’s, well, not many are supportive of it and it doesn’t…pay much.”

The piece of chicken in your mouth wasn’t as satisfying anymore. Thinking it probably couldn’t hurt to know considering he was so willing to share it, you slowly nodded. Instead of giving an immediate answer, Yunho inhaled deeply and ran his hand through his black locks.

“I’m the lead guitarist of Blue Bird with three other guys…and Yeosang’s our manager.” Yunho scratched the back of his head, “I’m sorry for not saying anything earlier but I figured you didn’t know and I wanted to keep it that way so you wouldn’t build an image of me based on what other people say. Now that I’m saying it outloud I realize how dumb that was and quite selfish of me and I’m sorry if that offends you?”

“Oh, oh! Not that all! It explains a lot actually, I mean I thought you were just dressing as a rockstar but now that I know you’re one, let’s just say it makes sense.”

The sincerity brought him ease and eyes turned soft again. Yunho never blushed but his ears always gave him away, currently glowing red like the organic tomatoes in the cornershop and lips pulled in a gentle smile. The whole exchange was going smoother than anticipated and he only hoped it wouldn’t ruin the friendship you built up so far.

“Plus, it’s not that far from what I had in mind,” you continued.

“And dare I ask what you would guess then?”

“Fine, but you can’t laugh at me for it, promise?”

Reaching over the table you held out your pinky finger, waiting for him to latch onto it with his own.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

Ignoring the swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you took a sip of the red wine and cleared your throat.

“A body artist.”

Almost choking on his ramen, Yunho coughed and recovered before you could think much of it.

“I think you’ve got the wrong impression. I’m not anywhere near suitable for that job, like I hate the feel of shit piercing skin and I can’t draw for the life of me.”

“Well, I blame the rings and clothes. And besides, what is it really that determines how good of an artist you are? I mean art is a personal thing, just like music, right? Obviously not everyone’s going to like everything you do but it doesn’t mean it’s badly done. So I don’t think it’s a question of how good you are, rather a question of personal taste.”

Speechless. You had rendered him speechless. A few years ago, when Yunho revealed he wouldn’t be applying for college and would try the one in a million chance of becoming a superstar, everyone was against it, claiming that the career wouldn’t last long and he’d eventually return back to Gwangju empty handed (not to mention the claims he was being possessed by Satan). The only one giving him enough support to cover for his absent family was Yeosang, who followed Yunho to Seoul, and now you, practically a stranger he hadn’t even known for more than a few weeks.

As you looked up from your bowl, you were startled at his baffled expression and immediately put down your utensils.

“Did I say something wrong?”

His heart beat loud in his chest and palms grew sweaty under your curious gaze. Mouth parted as he struggled to answer the question and finally settled on an awkward chuckle.

“No, it just…caught me off guard,” he assured and quickly averted the spotlight on you. “Enough of me, I want to know more about you. Tell me, what do you do then, is it something more exciting than dancing in a room all day?”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s nothing cool like yours–”

“And I wouldn’t think anything less of you either way.”

Smiling like a thousand suns you said, “I’m a preschool teacher.”

Of course, Yunho thought, even your line of work had to be cute. It was only right for a kind soul like yours to be at a place surrounded by everything innocent and pure. Although Yunho liked performing and singing in front of others, staying awake until the early hours of the morning, perfecting different riffs and learning new pitches of singing, he didn’t like how it added to the growing distance between you.

“Would you look at that, I think you’re even sweeter now.”

You took a bite of the food as you let the revelation sink in. The compliment getting to your head and warming your cheeks. You had been called every sweet adjective under the sun. Cute, endearing, angelic, the words were a repetitive mantra in your life but hearing them from Yunho made you feel like a high schooler buzzing to jump in bed and just write down the whole conversation – dotting your ‘i’s with hearts and stars – to read back in a couple of years and remember the affection bestowed on you.

Waking up to the motion of his phone buzzing violently beside his head, Yunho groaned and pressed the off button without checking the caller ID. He mentally cursed Mingi for being an early bird and not knowing how to respect others' boundaries. The sun creeped through the blinds in his room, reflecting in the body length mirror and hitting him right in the eyes. Yunho covered his head with one of the many pillows surrounding him. A few seconds later his phone went off again and he gave up on catching some extra z’s. Sitting up, hair messy and face puffy, he rubbed the sleep from the corners of his eyes and squinted at the bright screen of his phone. The numbers showed 10:03 AM and below was your name followed by a picture of you staring at a sunflower stopping a few inches above your head. Entranced by the image he took of you a few days ago, when he was free from schedule, he startled as his home screen appeared with a message popping up seconds after.

You [10:06 AM] Does coffee sound like a good excuse to spend time together? :P

If there was one thing Yunho cherished more than his bed then it would be coffee. Black coffee that tasted bitter but warmed him up like a cup of hot chocolate. It dawned on him that he only got around four hours of sleep and he needed at least six to function like a guy who gets the recommended amount, but saying no to you was worse than making a kid cry by simply offering a smile.

Yunho [10:08 AM] Do you even need to ask? I’ll pick you up in ten

Yunho [10:08 AM] Btw you don’t need an excuse to see me ;)

He threw on random clothes scattered around the room, a white shirt and black pants – but not before giving them a few excessively sniffs – and his obligatory leather jacket, the one with fuzz on the inside. Falling asleep with wet hair came to bite him in the rear as the strands wouldn’t cooperate now, refusing to lay down tidely. Lucky for Yunho, nine out of ten times he could just cover it with his helmet. Catching one last look in the mirror he sighed at the dark circles under his eyes. He quickly ventured into his bathroom and dragged the red-ish eyeliner pencil close to his lash line. It looked messy and nowhere near neat as when Seonghwa did it for him but it was alright. If you didn’t sneer at a sweaty Yunho with black liner smeared everywhere then you probably wouldn’t now either.

The sound of his motorcycle echoed through the block and he ignored the dirty looks passed from the elderly women sitting outside. As promised, Yunho was in front of your apartment with a few seconds to spare. He killed the engine and edged the kickstand into position with his left foot. While waiting on you, he unclasped the spare helmet from the chassis of the bike and made sure it was clean. Hongjoong, the leader and bassist of Blue Bird, had yet to get his driver’s license and would catch lift from the other guys which left everyone with a really small helmet in their possession. Yunho just hoped it would fit you.

The sound of someone clearing their voice caught his attention and as Yunho turned the breathe was knocked out of his lungs. He liked to think he was getting immune to the effect your skirts had on him, but no one warned him for the white lacy tank tops especially not when the material was hidden beneath your blue cardigan. Trying to play it off, he thrusted the helmet in your hands.

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle,” you started and checked it out.

Whatever brand it was, it looked cool. You especially liked how it played into Yunho’s rock star style and matched his hair; entirely black with red design stripes going from front to back.

“Are you okay with riding?”

The dirty thoughts were pushed to the far back of his mind as he reminded himself of who he was talking to. You weren’t just a random chick he picked up after one of his shows; figuratively.

You hummed and stepped closer, your hand hovering over the seat. “I think so. As long as I don’t fall off.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen. Here, lemme help you with the helmet.”

“It’s fine, Yuyu, you’ve proven yourself a gentleman multiple times and I think I can do this.”

Hearing nothing beyond the unexpected nickname, his brain crashed like a hard disk from overheating. Thoughts a jumbled mess where the only thing making sense was the new abbreviation of his name. Yunho gripped the helmet as if it were a lifeline keeping him from straying away with the tidal wave. The gentle touch of your palm against his brought him back to reality.

“Are you okay?”

Chuckling like he always did when you caught him being weird, he shook his head and gently pushed the helmet over your own.

“Just a bit tired–” the worried scrunch of your brows stopped him mid sentence “–it’s nothing to worry about I promise. I’ll be back to normal after we get some caffeine pumping in my veins.”

“Were you sleeping? Oh, no, I woke you up, didn’t I? Yunho, I told you to tell me off when practices were running late!”

“And you know I’d never bring myself to do that, I like spending time with you.”

“And I’d rather not have you running on coffee and zero sleep! I could’ve just made myself a cup at home.”

“But then we wouldn’t be here enjoying each other’s company. Now, is this alright? Try shaking your head a bit and see if it's not too tight or too loose.”

You did as told and the headgear barely budged which earned you a thumbs up from Yunho. He then flicked the visor down and you let out a ‘hey’ in protest. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, you gingerly studied him. While he looked sleep deprived he didn’t act the part, and you didn’t know if he did it to keep you from worrying or if he was genuinely alright.

“It’s alright. Not too tight or loose, but listen! The coffee’s on me,” you declared and before he could protest you quickly filled the short silence, “or I’m never going with you anywhere again. I’m serious, Yunho.”

“...Only if you call me that again.”

“Call you what? Yunho?”

“No. The other thing, y’know…”

A smile broke out on your face when you realized what he was implying.

“Yuyu?”

The rockstar whipped his head so fast you thought he’d snap it off his neck.

“Oh, you are mean.”

“No, I just did what you asked me to!”

The inbuilt bluetooth did a great job transmitting your sugary laughter and God was he proud of himself for thinking ahead. He could never get enough of it and it was like music to his ears and it warmed him better than the sun of a summer’s day.

“Put this on.” He handed you his leather jacket.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m a big boy.”

Yunho helped you mount the motorcycle, giving you tips on how to swing your feet and where to hold so the whole thing wouldn’t fall over. Not that it was possible as his legs were glued to the pavement.

“And your hands go here.” He grabbed your wrists and placed them around his stomach so your front was flushed to his back. “Don’t be afraid to hold on.”

The contact had your face burning and you wondered if he was anywhere near as flustered. You wondered if he was always this touchy or was it some exclusive treatment.

The local coffee shop you frequently visited or stopped by before your shift at the preschool wasn’t packed, which came as a surprise considering it was almost lunch hour but nothing you complained about.

“Okay, what are you getting?” You asked and gazed up at the oversized menu on the wall behind the workers.

Maybe you’d get a strawberry macchiato or a caramel one, you couldn’t decide– oh, the matcha tea didn’t sound too bad either. Yunho hummed in fake wonder with his eyes trained on an oblivious you. He didn’t need to read the menu to know what he was getting.

“I think I’ll take a caramel macchiato, I mean I had the strawberry one last time so it’s only fair I try something else now,” you argued mostly to yourself and like your coffee choice, Yunho found the rambling to be cute.

“That makes sense but I don’t think there are rules for what you can drink and when you can drink it, sweetpea.”

Toes touching the wall and hands holding the counter for support, you tilted your head backwards and looked Yunho right in the eyes. The top of your head barely grazed his chest and he restrained himself from gently grabbing your hips. You were slightly taken back at the pet name that rolled off his tongue. You expected a lot but not that.

“Sweetpea? That’s a new one.”

“I figured you’ve heard most of them so I wanted to try something new.”

Trying to keep your eagerness on the low you stifled a giggle.

“Ahhhh, you wanted to stand out, is that it?”

“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak my truth, I guess I’ll just have to call you something cheesy like petal or sweet cheeks.”

“If it makes you feel better, no one's called me either of those things, Yuyu. So you’re doing a good job at both standing out and being cheesy.”

The tips of his ears burned and Yunho internally groaned as all his thousand good comebacks flew out the window, and right when he thought he was going to embarrass himself the barista – unintentionally – swooped in and saved the day.

“Welcome to Star’s Coffee, are you ready to place your order?”

Jumping abruptly from Yunho, you politely smiled and nodded.

“Yu–yes. I’ll take a caramel macchiato”

“Will that be hot or iced?”

“Iced please, and then we’ll take a…”

“An iced americano,” Yunho quickly filled in, “Black with no milk, thank you.”

As agreed you swiped your card and paid for the drinks even if it hurt Yunho’s pride. Deciding to sit at a table by the window, he quickly ran ahead of you and pulled out a chair and beamed brightly. It fit right in with the other chivalrous gestures Yunho spoiled you with and while you weren’t used to being pampered, you could totally get behind it. Before he could occupy the seat across from you, the barista’s voice stole the spotlight as she called out your orders and he was already walking in her direction.

“A caramel macchiato for m’lady and an iced americano for the fine gentleman keeping her company.”

You looked up at Yunho and thanked him through a giggle as he handed you the beverage. An identical paper cup was cradled in his hand, fingers wrapping all the way around and nearly making it as if he was holding air. He occupied the seat across from you and as he got comfortable, you jokingly raised the drink and smiled as the cups bumped against each other. Taking your first sips together, you waited for the sweetness to hit your tongue and cringed at the strong metallic taste that followed instead.

“Oh, God that’s sweet,” Yunho exclaimed as the heavily sugared coffee exploded in his mouth.

“And this is horrible! How can you, ugh– How can you even drink this? It’s strong and bitter and give me back my coffee!”

“Coffee?! That’s like unicorn piss mixed with water and sugar, how can you drink that is my question.”

“At least it doesn’t taste like something straight out of my grandma’s garden,” you bit back and tried washing out the dirt-ish flavor with extra big sips of your so-called unicorn piss coffee.

Spoiler: it didn’t help.

“I don’t get it,” Mingi voiced from beside Yunho, fingers quickly fiddling with the joysticks on his Xbox controller.

The drummer looked nothing like on their nights out. Face bare from makeup and his usually gelled hair was combed and took on the resemblance of a cloud. Instead of skin tight clothes he had a worn out Fall Out Boy shirt he bought a few years back and paired it off with some loose fitted pajama bottoms. His neck and fingers were bare from kilos of jewelry, it was just his colored nails and chest tattoo that were still there. Yunho took ‘bare’ to another level as he walked around in his underwear and just a pair of Spiderman socks.

The boys sat on the sofa which was barely big enough to fit both of them, knees touching and eyes glued to the TV-screen. The gaming session had been running for at least an hour or two and the street outside Yunho’s apartment was slowly being emptied of cars and people. Yunho would soon have to start getting ready for the dinner he invited you out to. Reservations were made at a little pricier restaurant for people with enough money to be deemed important or idols and celebrities who wanted some privacy from the prying eyes of locals and camera lenses. Yunho obviously didn’t have the money for it but with a few pulled strings and a call to his friend in the fashion industry, he made it work.

“What don’t you get?”

The question came a few seconds later and it wasn’t anything Mingi paid attention to as they were both occupied with protecting their base from demons and gargoyles.

“Why you don’t just ask her out. You’ve been hounding her for like, what? Four months now?”

“I haven’t been hounding after her,” Yunho argued, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a sneer.

“Dude.”

Pausing the game Mingi turned to his childhood best friend and the guy had the audacity to stare back at him with an equally deadpanned look.

“What? I haven’t.”

“Don’t what me, Yunho. Is this thing serious or are you just having fun because from what I understand she’s not a one and done type of girl, is she?”

Almost as if defeated, the lead guitarist slumped back against the couch and sighed. Mingi was right, you weren’t just a girl he picked up from a nightclub hoping for a quickie that would leave him waking up to an absent space the morning after. You were a girl who liked to take things slow. Three dates and maybe on the fourth one you’d reward him with a peck on the cheek. If he was lucky you’d hold his hand as you walk side by side, slowly unraveling each other’s preferences. Early bird or night owl, cats or dogs, sunrise or sunset, the list was endless and he’d know more about you than his own best friend by the end of the day.

Gigs, parties and one night stands were fun. It was a fast life that made him feel alive, like he had a purpose being on stage besides signing autographs for random people or finding a minimum wage job. Then he met you, the girl with the pretty bows in her hair and an unhealthy addiction to strawberry flavored pocky rather than his cancer sticks, and realized you brought him that joy too. Through the jokes you could barely get out between your giggles or your affectionate yet worrisome words reminding him to drink two glasses of water for every cup of coffee he poured. And it was always a pleasant surprise waking up with you knocking on his door, a freshly baked batch of brownies in hand as you bid him a good morning despite it being three in the afternoon. It was the small things Yunho liked, but also despised, because if you were everything good – the white marble in his sack of charcoal – what was he?

“I don’t know,” Yunho finally answered.

“Don’t know if it’s serious or…?”

“I don’t know what I want. If I want a serious relationship or just someone to pass time with, and I know how that sounds; it’s fucking awful, and she doesn’t deserve that nor would she be up for it either. She dates to marry, and well, let’s be honest here I’m not the guy she wants to spend the rest of her life with anyway.”

Yunho pressed ‘resume’, seemingly putting a stop to the conversation he wasn’t currently in the mood for. A conversation he purposely avoided every single time Mingi questioned his lack of action with the exact words of ‘put a ring on her finger, man'. And it was funny the first three times then it just became a walking reminder of why Yunho precisely didn’t do it. Having had enough of his friend's stupid antics, Mingi stood up and parked himself in front of the TV. Hands on his hips and bottom lip jutted out.

“That’s bullshit, Yun. I get being indecisive. Your last serious relationship was ages ago and it’s weird going from being single to taken in one night, but the thing about not being the one for her? Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Growing agitated himself, Yunho paused the game again and tossed the controller onto the sofa as he looked up at Mingi with tired eyes.

“Yeah, what good can I bring her? Tell me, Mingi. I’m nothing. My sleeping schedule is fucked and I work more than twelve hours a day for a minimum pay. If it weren’t for Yeosang’s parents I’d practically be living on the street. I eat take out for breakfast, lunch and dinner and have no college degree and probably won’t be getting one anytime soon. She’s educated, has a respectable job and lives a healthy life that won’t coax her into bad habits. She shouldn’t be associated with someone like me. It isn’t ideal for her to be with me, it’s not safe.”

“Oh my God, would you shut the fuck up?”

Yunho startled at the sudden raise in tone, not expecting Mingi to get so worked up over nothing.

“What does that even mean; too good for you? Yunho, dude, you’re the most selfless guy I know. You’re a kind, funny and quick witted gentleman who cares about those around you and always tries to make everyone smile, even if you’re going through shit yourself. So if you aren’t worthy of her then I should just stop looking for a partner all together! We are going to be rock stars, yeah, people look at us like we’re out of our mind or worship Satan, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of living like a human. And don’t even start with the homeless shit. I’d never let that happen…”

The little speech slapped Yunho across the face and only Mingi’s heaves of air resonated through the apartment. The two rarely got into arguments and while this conversation wouldn’t be jutted down as one, it still left Yunho at unease. Usually being the one to reprimand his friends, he didn’t know how to act while on the receiving end. Especially not when it was Mingi – the softie who took hours to eat a slice of bread and liked being called a princess – beating sense into him.

“It’s true she’s good for you, Yunho, and I doubt she’d stay around if you weren’t good for her either. She’s kind, not gullible.”

On the other side of town you sat before your vanity mirror and carefully applied make up. Yuqi sat on your bed, fingers hastily scrolling through social media apps and updating you about the recent gossip at her workplace.

“I can’t believe you’re not telling me anything about this mysterious man!” Yuqi exclaimed from your bed, legs in a pretzel position and fingers frozen mid air as she stared at the picture you airdropped her. “And the fact that I only now find out you’ve been seeing someone, that hurts you know!”

It wasn’t intentional. You knew if you told them a super cute and handsome man asked for your number, they’d rush right up to the counter and harass any guy who fit your description which, admittedly, only a few did. After the long night out you were all tipsy and too focused on getting everyone safely home that the handsome stranger was pushed to the back of your mind and forgotten until the next day when you woke up to a message from an unknown number.

Everyone was so caught up in their lives that you hadn’t thought of telling them about Yunho, then the whole rock star-identity was revealed and you certainly couldn’t tell them about him after that – already knowing what they thought about guys like that – not even your best friend who with just one glance knew something was different. Not necessarily bad, but just different. The outline of two massive hearts reflected in your eyes and you wore a smile so wide she thought you won the lottery, she didn’t stop to think the reason behind your gleeful expression could be because of a man. Not that you were an untouched woman, you had done a few things here and there, but because you were selective with your partners. So to hear you gave away your number and meet up with Yunho on multiple occasions piqued her interest.

“I told you it wasn’t on purpose! We were just both busy with work,” you pouted and applied mascara to your eyes.

“I know babes I’m just messing with you.”

Yuqi slumped back on your bed and tapped open your Instagram following list, quickly trying to find the guy you had been ‘unintentionally hiding’ from her.

“Are you like a thing now?”

“No or at least I don’t think so.”

Abandoning her search at your words, Yuqi put her phone down and stared at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean? Either you’re or you aren’t.”

“Well we haven’t really talked about that sort of stuff. When we go out we just let the conversation flow and I mean, it’s not like he’s explicitly asked me out on a date-date. And neither have I, for the record. We just go out for lunch or dinner, sometimes coffee, like we do with the girls.”

There was also the fact that he was going to be a rock-star who didn’t even have time to wipe his ass, let alone be in a relationship.

“Yeah, but I don’t invite you to my house and cook you an expensive dinner with expensive ass wine.”

“No, you’d rather tell me how you’d take me then and there if you weren’t painfully straight.”

She waved her hand in dismissal and pushed up to sit on her knees. “Guys don’t just do all those things if they aren’t interested, babes. You know that, you’ve dated a hundred guys before.”

“Yeah, but this is Yunho and not one of my previous dates. Maybe he just wants to be friends, like permanently.”

“You are insufferable. The guy likes you! I mean, you’ve already gone on a hundred mini-dates so this doesn’t come as that big of a surprise but why the hell would he ask you to dinner – only giving you the instructions to dress accordingly – on a Friday night if he absolutely wasn’t smitten with you?”

You sighed and closed the eyeshadow palette. In the softest voice possible you whispered out, “To get in my pants…”

“Oh, sweetie.”

Yuqi was up in seconds, throwing her arms gently around you and caressing the flesh of your biceps.

“Guys are douchebags and I can’t say for sure but what you’ve told me about Yunho, he doesn’t sound like the type to do that.”

“I know but then I start thinking about the what’s and the if’s and it all leads back to that one thing. It would be easier if he just said what he was thinking and feeling out loud.”

“Considering you guys haven’t talked about more serious things, you don’t know each other on that level. You don’t know what’s going through his head, if he’s been wronged before or is scared of commitment, bubs. Maybe he’s scared you don’t feel the same and is trying to play it safe, waiting for a sign that indicates you want more.”

Or maybe he was scared of what his bandmates would say, what their little group of fans would say. Maybe he wasn’t interested in girls like you at all, mayne he was drawn to the…flashier ones who were there for a good time and not a long one. A small sliver of you hung on the hope that it didn’t have to mean anything. That not all rock stars were up for that dirty and fast life.

“I baked him my specialty,” you pointed out, that alone was enough to tell him how you felt without vocalizing it.

“And I’m sure the brownies were delicious, bubs, but he doesn’t know they are reserved for special people, now does he?”

You shook your head and the frown that followed really didn’t suit your dolled up face. There was no time to sulk as Yunho would be arriving in roughly half an hour, but the thought of your intimate gesture flying over his head as friendliness set a bitter taste on your tongue. The thing you could think of to be more obvious was to decorate the dessert with swirls of chocolate reading out ‘I like you’ and while it would be a cute way to confess, you weren’t that confident.

“Enough sulking,” Yuqi suddenly declared and pulled you up by your wrists. “What are we wearing, huh? Are we going for something bold, something that will give poor Yunho a hard time keeping his thoughts in check or are we leaning for a more cutesy approach?”

By the way your lips curved up in a smirk, Yuqi knew exactly what you were going for.

The nerves danced across Yunho’s skin as he aligned the bike with the curb outside your apartment. He stole a quick glance up at your window and sighed. This would be the closest thing to a date and he wanted to impress you, so in good ol’ Yunho fashion he planned ahead. First he’d treat you to a tasty meal at one of the best restaurants in the city, dessert was a given so that would be the next stop and if the night didn’t turn too cold maybe he’d decide on a quick stroll across the Dongho Bridge, but not until he knew what the weather would be like, it was still late February. Otherwise a quick ride through town wasn’t a bad idea either but it left no space for the little things like hand holding, unless he wanted to jeopardize your safety.

Yunho sent you a short message, notifying his arrival and leaned against his motorcycle. There was a slight breeze in the air and the weather wasn’t too hot indicating the approaching end of winter, and Yunho wondered whether to scratch the promenade from his plans. Too caught up in his own mind he missed the apartment door swinging open as you sashayed out, head held high and purse in hand.

The click-clack of your boots snapped Yunho out of his daze and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at your appearance. The cutesy pastel colored clothes, bows and lace were replaced with something out of your usual wardrobe; a short black dress that clung to your body like a second skin. The hem made it to mid thigh and Yunho just knew it’d ride up even shorter when you’d sit down. The dress was backless and left your shoulders exposed while the front accentuated your chest. You looked hot and you’d be even hotter with his leather jacket on. Your designated heart necklace was still in place and you paired it off with small golden hoops. A pair of leather boots reached up to your knees, revealing a snippet of glowy skin (thanks to your body lotion).

“You look good,” you said and smiled, lips painted a deep red and Yunho imagined the trail of kisses it would leave on his neck.

Clearing his throat, he cast a look at his own attire and chuckled. He too was wearing something out of his usual closet. Instead of ripped jeans and a fishnet shirt, he borrowed one of Mingi’s old high school suits that still miraculously fit. He looked sharp and important, something Yunho wasn’t all that used to, but it balanced it out with his scarlet helmet and motorcycle.

“Well, I couldn’t let you take all of the spotlight, now could I?”

Dressed as a couple even the universe rooted for you to snap the translucents restraints of fear.

“Before I forget.” He snatched the single rose tucked neatly between the windshield and handlebars of the bike. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

Day met night as you reached for the flower, fingers brushing against Yunho’s. You smelled the red petals like the main girls do in movies but with a real smile that their fabricated ones would never reach. When Lord Byron claimed chivalry was dead he didn’t take count for men like Jeong Yunho. Men who bought their dates their favorite flowers after mentioning it one time in passing, men who gave up their jackets when a light breeze swiveled through town or men who never let their eyes wander from one diamond to another. While the acts were nothing of a grand gesture they still sent squeezes of affection straight to your heart. Taking it as a sign of the stars aligning and sending a normal guy your way for the first time in what seemed to be forever, you allowed yourself to relax and follow the stream.

“Right when I thought you slipped up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Like always Yunho helped you with the helmet and to get on the bike, and heat pooled beneath the skin of your cheeks as you huddled closer to him. Your legs were glued together and slung over one side of the motorcycle, and Yunho promised he’d drive slow so you wouldn’t fall off – as if that was ever going to happen – with the order that you hold on tight. The thrownless flower was in your hold as you reached around him. He patted your hand twice, the mute signal that he was starting the engine. Throughout the whole fifteen minute drive, Yunho refused to disclose the name of the restaurant, arguing it would ruin the suspense and feigned hurt when you said he hadn’t even planned anything. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

With your arm looped through Yunho’s, you approached a tall building that reminded you of a hotel and just the exterior had you gasping, fingers pressed to your lips. The outside was sculpted with details from ancient Greek architecture. Marble columns pushed out from the black walls as pediments marked the beginning of the second floor. The rest of the building changed hues from black marble to beautiful cream colored bricks full of golden rimmed windows and black balcony railings with swirls and fleur-de-lis. You walked the little path leading up to the double doors and suddenly the pavement underneath turned soft and drowned out the click-clack of your heels. The carpet underneath was a rich red and you were curious how they kept it nice and clean from rain and other mud. By the entrance stood an elderly man dressed in a neat costume, his white gloved hand already pushing down the golden doorknob at the sight of guests and greeted you with kind eyes.

Your whisper of Yunho’s name tugged at the corners of his lips and he wanted to tell you that there was more, keeping his excitement at bay he reached and patted the hand clutching his elbow. Allowing Yunho to guide you, he stopped at what seemed to be a reception where a young lady with a bright smile and red lips waited.

“Welcome to the Red Ruby.”

Completely lost in the details of the place, you didn’t bother tuning in on the brief exchange. The inside was even prettier, you came to realize. It was a small space not much bigger than your living room but probably held more worth than your whole apartment. A big chandelier hung in the center of the room that reflected against the black and white tiled floor. The left side sported a big entryway that led to a big dining area. Its primary colors ranged from red hues to matte gold. Further inside you made out a few tables draped over with long tablecloths and exquisite centerpieces bigger than your head. The chairs were big and soft to the eyes, made out of the finest velvet material you ever borne witness to.

“Thank you. We have a reservation under the name Jung Wooyoung.”

If you weren’t so mesmerized by the place, you’d give him a weird look and ask about this so-called Jung Wooyoung.

The lady scrolled through her tablet and smiled as she came to a halt. “Of course. The elevator will take you to the upper floor and my colleague will further assist you. Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you,” Yunho replied once again and gave you a soft tug, finally catching your attention.

“Are we not sitting there?” You nodded towards the majority of people who were happily dining and conversing in the red room.

“Not quite. Only specific people are allowed in the Red Ruby, besides those seats don’t require a reservation and it’s a lot more open than where we’re sitting.”

Specific people meaning celebrities, actors, important people. Not locals like yourself. The ding of the elevator cut the conversation short as the doors parted and for the second time in ten minutes, you gasped. Flashing lights of the outside world stared back at you through the windows stretching from the floor to the high ceilings. Blue and purple hues of the night sky blended with the fading orange color. As the sun was slowly setting, the moon made its appearance with smaller stars dashed across the dark blue canvas, shining brighter than any streetlight and airplane. The view resembled a watercolor painting and its beauty couldn’t even be captured with the most developed camera.

As promised, another worker – a man not older than yourself – waited by the doors wearing a maroon red suit that was adjusted to his precise measures, a towel thrown over his forearm and hair slicked back with gel.

“Reservation for Mr. Jung?” He asked and Yunho nodded. “Right this way. My name is Sieun and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

The second floor – what you soon came to realize was actually the twentieth – was a stark contrast from the dining area downstairs. The whole outerwall consisted of just windows with an overview of the heart of South Korea and the interior took on more of a modern design with black and white colored seats, marble tables and crystal chandeliers that did little to lighten the room. The floor was pipsqueak clean and you could even see your own reflection in the black tiles. Instead of flower bushes, literal trees popped out every now and then and you couldn’t figure out if they were real or manufactured. Mouth open and eyes wide you were at a loss for words as the waiter led you to a table further away from the other guests. Two menus bigger than your head laid neatly on the surface and the waiter left with a promise of someone coming back to take your orders.

“This is beautiful,” you exhaled, eyes glued to the lively city below.

“Right?” Yunho smiled, chest exploding with warmth and pride.

While you were occupied with watching the ant-like people and shimmering stars, Yunho stared at you as if the view outside wasn’t anything special. And it wasn’t, not with you sitting there looking breathtakingly beautiful.

“Personally, I prefer their food over any other restaurant. Their yakisoba is the closest thing I’ve tasted to what they have in Japan.”

“I have no doubt, their water probably tastes like heaven, too. I mean did you see that crystal fountain, in the middle of the room?”

Yunho chuckled at your words and it tore your eyes from the windows. “I can assure you their water is just normal tap water.”

As you opened your mouth, Sieun came back and the ten minutes of thinking were up.

“Are you ready to place your orders?”

“Yes, please.” Yunho closed his menu despite not taking a look inside. “We’ll take a full course dinner with your evening's specials, that way we can try a little bit of everything.”

“Of course, sir and in the meantime would you like anything to drink? If I may propose one of our finest wines, perhaps?”

Eyes on you, Yunho quirked a brow letting you decide. Picking up on the memo, you cleared your throat and agreed to the proposition. Sieun nodded and bowed politely before venturing back to the culinary side of the restaurant.

“This will cost you a fortune,” you sighed and fiddled with your fingers. “And I don’t know what you thought but by the looks of the interior, the food’s probably a month’s worth of salary, my salary.”

Yunho laughed at that. As if he’d ever let you near the bill, let alone split it.

“Don’t think about that, let's just enjoy it and I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Yunho,” you began, leaning forward and mustering up your biggest puppy eyes that he was quick to shut down.

“I know you’re worrying, but seriously don’t. It’s a favor I’ve asked of my friend so it won’t make a dent in my wallet. Besides I wanted to do this for you, okay. Something nice.”

“But why?”

The overwhelming feeling to reach over the table and place his palm over yours was stronger than anything pull he felt before, but he kept it glued to its current position and flashed a smile that made his cheeks pop and eyes crinkle.

“Because it’s what you deserve.”

Preparations for upcoming gigs and events were truly draining him. Practices started early in the morning, hours before the sun peeked over the horizon, and ended after the moon was high up in the sky. It left barely any time for the Blue Bird members to indulge in their own interests. Yunho wanted to spend as much time with you as but it was quite difficult as your schedules didn’t align, mainly because of his impractical working hours. Instead of going out for lunch or dining in grandiose places you couldn’t afford without giving up a kidney on the blackmarket, you opted for quick coffee breaks and late night drives to vacant places; the beach, some random hill with a great view of the city, a kids’ playground.

The clock was well past midnight and your eyes were surprisingly wide open, brain awake and ready to run laps around your apartment. How you’d survive the morning shift was beyond you, but with the faith that it wasn’t anything an extra spoon of sugar couldn’t fix, aimlessly continued counting each bump on your popcorn ceiling, willing the time to move faster for something – someone – to happen. Days off were spent alone in your apartment reading books to rid of your boredom but every once in a while you found yourself yearning for even the tiniest interactions with a certain puppy eyed man who also happened to be a future rock-star carrying a calendar with all three-hundred and sixty-five boxes marked. Maybe that’s why you didn’t hesitate at his sudden offer of going for a late night walk to buy slushies; his treat as the message read.

“I’m surprised you were still awake.” Was the first thing Yunho said as you ventured out of the apartment complex.

You pushed the black beanie further down on your head and by the creases around your eyes Yunho knew you were smiling hard beneath your white scarf. A breeze blew through the neighborhood and that white hoodie of yours looked to do little against the chilly night. Yunho pondered if he should wrap you up in his leather jacket or clasp your hand in his – if daring enough, maybe even braid your fingers together – and hide them in the pocket of the black material.

“What? I don’t always sleep early…”

The sprinkle of sulk to your words squeezed his heart affectionately and he imagined a little pout to your look, head free from his previously temping thoughts.

“No, but you never stay awake to see the clock change from PM to AM.”

“Hey!”

Yunho moved away as your arm swung in his direction. Chuckles bubbling out of him as he jogged ahead of your punches, they barely did any damage anyway but it was endearing to see you run after him.

“I’m kidding, kinda.”

“Where are we going anyway…Won’t your friends worry?”

“Not really, I mean even if they did it’s not like we’re doing anything illegal. We’re just getting some slushies.”

Your face scrunched together like you bit into something sour and lips set in a thin line. While you enjoyed Yunho’s company more than you wanted to admit for your own mental health, you also despised it. There was something so gut wrenching about not being able to hold his hand as you walked down the streets of Seoul or adjust his unruly strands of hair after a stronger gust of air messed it up. The worst thing about it all was that his future image was the last thing holding you back, it was the fact you weren’t anything but friends.

“So, what have you been up to today? How was work?”

“It was alright, a bit annoying with the pollen season having everyone act up and sneeze every five minutes but it’s nothing I’m not used to and the kids are cute so it evens it out. What about you, I thought practice wouldn’t be running later than eight?”

It wasn’t supposed to but in the last quarter someone suggested a change in the performance with an added solo, and the three hours of practice were done in vain as they had to re-learn the most important part. Yunho loved his members, his brothers, but they sure could get on his nerves at the most unexpected time. Safe to say the sudden change in Yunho’s demeanor had everyone on edge – despite him not trying to show it – and they were diligent in their learning. It still didn’t stop Hongjoong from having a talk, or a check-in as the leader liked to call it, with Yunho. After some brief but believable words of assurement he was off the hook like nothing. Yunho was lucky he roomed with Yeosang, their manager, and not with Hongjoong. The lead guitarist would never leave the apartment without the elder breathing down his neck. Yeosang was more laid back like that, keeping to himself but still indulging in Yunho’s interests every once in a while and simultaneously taking care of him in his manager role.

“Yeah, no, we had to change up the performance so we were running later than expected…It’s crazy that after all these years it still surprises me that practice doesn’t end on time.”

“I think that’s just wishful thinking, everyone has it Yuyu.”

“What’s your wishful thinking then, sunshine?”

“Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

A laugh skipped through the chilly march night. The smug words he once threw at you long before you knew who he was coming to bite him in the rear; cutie-pie style. Eventually the all too familiar corner store – in which you spent way too many mornings contemplating between choco-chips and strawberry pocky – came to view and the conversation dissolved. The young boy behind the counter paid you no mind, sleep evidently tugging at his eyelids as he barely kept upright in his chair. Working in tandem you separated like the branches of a tree, one pouring up the slushies and the other filling a basket with snacks.

Despite how much Yunho disliked seeing you reach for your wallet, he couldn’t do anything about it – as you argued it to be unfair if he paid for it all – and settled with a mental note lingering in the back of his mind to pay you back. Plastic bag in hand and card tucked back in your wallet, you slowly walked towards the exit.

“I’ll take a pack of red Marlboros, too.”

Out of all the facts about Yunho this was the most surprising one, followed right by him being in a rockband and never having watched Twilight. You stepped out in the open with Yunho close behind, the outline of the pack in his pocket and a slushie in each hand, one brown – seemingly coca cola flavored – and the other a pretty mix of blue and red.

“Thank you,” you murmured as he took the bag from you in exchange for the drink.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere away from the street.”

Yunho’s hand hovered over your lower back as you turned into a random street with different local restaurants and stores, all closed at this late hour much to your pleasure. The further you went, the fewer shops there were and more houses instead. The neighborhood was on an uphill path leading to the top of the mountain and soon a set of stairs popped out of the sleek pavement making it easier to venture by foot. To break the silence settled over you, Yunho first slurped on his slushie.

“Everything alright?”

The question worked as a needle breaking the layer of a balloon, bringing you out of the bubble you were stuck in.

“Hmmm, yeah I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“Are you tired? We can walk back home if you want.”

“No, no! I’m good, I promise.”

Yunho bobbed his head up and down, bag gently swinging from between his fingers and then put down on the ground beside his plastic cup.

“Okay, then at least take this.” Immediately you opened your mouth to say no, but Yunho wasn’t finished. “And I’m not taking a no for an answer.”

Your body was covered in a layer of warmth – the warmth of his jacket – and you gave him a small smile, a thank you for not letting you freeze to death even though that was impossible.

“Don’t get sick on me now, Yuyu. If you feel just the smallest tingle of a cold you tell me right away, okay.”

He pouted, “Why not? Won’t you come and take care of me then, hmmm? Some chicken soup to heal my tummy.”

The motion of his hand rubbing against his stomach had you giggling. The cheerful expression that made him fall pathetically in love with you was back and that was better than any jacket or hotpacket to keep him warm.

You trudged up the last flight of stairs and in front was a bus stop big enough for two, maybe three people if you could squeeze in on the tiny bench. The road wasn’t connected to the path and continued in two directions, one going further up the hill and the other leading down and around the neighborhood to what you assumed was the city. The bus stop was placed right on the curve of the road with a great view of Seoul. It wasn’t anything like looking out the windows of the Red Ruby, this was less hectic. Mountains nearly blended with the dark sky and the distant lights of cars and billboards twinkled light stars, you were sure if you walked a little bit more out of the city the real stars would prevail. It was much quieter here too, no chatter of people or overproduced vehicles making whirring noises.

You leaned your hand against the road barrier and smiled as the wind kissed your cheeks. Following your lead, Yunho did the same but with both hands and knees slightly bent as he put his whole weight against the metal fence. Turning your head to the left, you were once again taken back by his beauty. Features perfectly illuminated by the moonlight and jaw sharp as ever you couldn’t help but step back, snatch your phone up and tap open the camera icon.

“What are you doing?” Yunho asked, amused as he caught sight of your abrupt movements.

“Don’t move! Look out again, it’s great Instagram material and although I’m no professional photographer I think they’ll still turn out amazing. Just fix your hair a bit.”

Heat spreading to his cheeks, Yunho bashfully smiled and did as told. Looking through the rectangular phone screen you moved around a little, stepping closer and inching a bit to the left before completely freezing up in place. The perfect shot was in view and with a few instructions aimed at the unofficial model, you snapped a handful of photos. In some where Yunho looked mysteriously out, others where his gaze was locked in on the circular camera alternating between a relaxed expression and cheek-popping smiles.

“Look.”

You pushed the device in his hands and waited patiently for his reaction.

“Maybe I should buy you a camera,” he said more so to himself but it still drew a sharp gasp out of you.

“Don’t you dare!”

And all you got back was a teasing wink, telling you your words entered in one ear and out the other.

“Send these to me, would ya? It’s been a while since I posted something on Instagram.”

While you got busy airdropping him the pictures, Yunho frantically patted the front and back of his jeans, searching for something that was in the pocket of his coat.

Clearing his throat and gauging your reaction, he said, “Can you pass me the cigarettes?”

In all honesty, you forgot the packet was even in your possession. Digging around in the pockets – first the left and then the right – you passed him the packet along with a red lighter in silence mainly because there was nothing to be said.

“Does it…Will it– I mean…Ah.”

“You can go ahead and light one, it doesn’t disturb me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh-okay. Wait, let me just.” In three quick strides he stepped around you. “Now the smoke won’t get in your face and clothes.”

You weren’t new to the smell or taste of tobacco. Having friends who smoked and even took a few puffs when offered, you quickly realized it wasn’t something to your liking. The taste was worse than any cup of black coffee and you’d opt for the caffeine filled drinks rather than those sticks. Despite that you couldn’t stop staring, almost as if mesmerized, as Yunho opened the sealed packet, tore out a cigarette with his teeth and lit it with a flick of the lighter. You definitely couldn’t stop staring when a whistle of smoke blew out from between his lips making him somehow more attractive than he already was.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t do it often, just when I’m stressed.”

He tapped the cigarette ash into his empty slushie cup and took another drag of the intoxicating stick. You watched it mix with the few droplets of blue water and replayed his answer.

“Are you stressed right now?”

Always the gentleman, Yunho blew out a cloudy stream of smoke in the opposite direction before looking at you.

“With you here? Not a chance.”

You could never find anything to hate about Yunho. He was funny, kind hearted, thoughtful, smart, handsome, everything, and yet you really disliked the way your heart fluttered at his cheesy lines that would fit right in a K-drama. Your face burned like the end of his cigarette and you forced yourself not to look away, cheeks hurting from your wide smile. With one last drag of his cigarette he extinguished it and let it fall in his cup. Eyes finding yours again he smiled goofily, tracing all crevices of your face, finding you as beautiful as the first time he saw you.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the blood practically boiling beneath your skin and fingers tightly clutching the long sleeves of his coat. Of all the days you spent with him, from the extravagant dates to domestic hangouts at your place, not once did you think your first shared kiss would be under the stars while dressed with minimum effort. Nonetheless you really wanted to kiss him too.

“What’s stopping you?”

The last string keeping Yunho from doing what he’s been dreaming of snapped and he quickly dropped everything in his hands to cup your face. Thumb gently caressed your cheek like he was molding clay into a beautiful piece of art, his palm rested against your jaw, fingers long enough to graze the back of your neck as the other hand fell to your waist, the touch burning through the thick layer of his coat. High on his touch, your own hands clasped around his wrist and neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. The faint stench of tobacco reached your nose but it was quickly drowned out by his pleasant scent of rain-soaked earth and camp fire.

Gaze flickering between your eyes and lips, Yunho slowly inched closer, noses millimeters away from brushing. A light smirk crossed his features as you rose impatiently on your toes, quietly yet so loudly telling him to do it already. Right before you took matters into your own hands and nearly yanked him by the collar of his shirt, Yunho tilted his head and brushed his lips softly against yours, and they fit perfectly. The little squeeze he gave your waist sent shivers down your spine and cliche as it sounded, fireworks and confetti poppers exploded in your stomach. Eventually relaxing in each other’s embrace you worked your lips against his, parting them and allowing his tongue entry as you simultaneously stroked his wrist in a slow motion. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. The kiss was great with no tongue being shoved down the back of your throat or mouth vacuuming your whole face. All your senses were overtaken with Yunho, Yunho and Yunho.

It was sweet, gentle and soft – everything you hoped for – and then it was not. The aftertaste of his cigarette and coca cola slush rolled off his tongue and left quite a bitter tang on yours. It wasn’t strong, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you willed yourself not to pull away too soon yet that’s exactly what you did. Yunho, still lost in the daze of the kiss, chased after your mouth wanting to claim your lips again. Panicking, because on one hand you wanted to feel him on you again – the perfect curve of his lips massaging yours and noses brushing against each other – but on the other hand you also didn’t want to taste ash and smoke, and would rather kiss Yunho and not the remainder of his cigarette.

The soft call of his name brought him back to earth, ears painted that perfect shade of crimson clover and you probably weren’t looking any less flustered. Going from this confident guitarist with the world beneath his feet to an awkward man who still hugged his pillows to sleep, Yunho visibly deflated like a balloon.

“Did I do something wrong? Did–uh, did I make you uncomfortable?”

The whisper hit you square in the heart and you shook your head. There was no bone in your body that didn’t think kissing Yunho was perfect, in fact it was everything and more and you’d want to do it again but maybe with the taste of something sweeter like chocolate covered strawberries.

“No. Yunho, no, I promise. It was great, I liked it a lot actually–”

“But…? I’m sensing there’s a but coming.”

“But the taste– the cigarette taste isn’t that nice.”

Yunho licked his lips and surely there was an ashy sprinkle besides the faint flavor of strawberry that was you. He had never wanted to smash his head against concrete as much as then or go cliff diving without a parachute.

Winter surrendered to spring and days turned longer, and so did the time you spent with Yunho. The kiss you shared with the moon as your only witness was one of many, much to your delight, and ever since then it was as if you became inseparable. Late night drives turned into weekly hangouts at each other’s places (mostly at yours), hand holding was exchanged for cuddles on the couch – bodies pressed together and legs intertwined – the empty side of your wardrobe was suddenly full of large hoodies with prints of different bands and sweatpants, and your digital phonebook showed hundreds of calls to a ‘yuyu 🐶💘’ lasting up to hours. Nights together were always an adventure as Yunho watched you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, and then put you back together with those same limbs.

“Have you ever considered getting a tattoo or more piercings?” You asked one night as you laid bare in his bed, skin against skin and his blue blanket the only thing shielding you from the outside world.

It wasn’t the first time you imagined his body covered in ink or new shiny rings glistening in the moonlight and from his sole lip piercing, you knew you’d need a few days off work to recover if he were to get some more. Heat flooded your cheeks at the idea of Yunho sporting a full sleeve and the previously subdued ache between your legs slowly grew again. Most of Blue Bird had done some body art and were eager to do more. You knew Mingi’s body was prickled all over, from his face down to the tips of his fingers, and the man was always eager to do something more. Hongjoong and Seonghwa had a few tattoos here and there although Hongjoong’s was the crown holder of having the most piercings. Yunho was the one with least the altercations and if it weren’t for a dare back in his last year of high school, he probably wouldn’t have added anything.

“Yeah, whenever I accompany Mingi to a tattoo parlor and lemme tell you, that bastard really does a good job at persuading people.”

“But?”

“But I know I’ll change my mind in the future or probably regret getting it done and then I think of how it will look when I’m eighty and all wrinkly. Like imagine an eighty year old Mingi with a face tattoo…and I get that not everyone thinks that far or simply doesn’t care but I don’t know…It’s just weird to me. I like my skin bare.”

“I like your skin like this too,” you replied and kissed the spot beneath his collarbone. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo since I can remember.”

Not in a million years did Yunho expect to hear that. Caught so off guard, he leaned back on his forearms to get a better view of you.

“Really?”

“Yep. My parents blame it on my uncle. He was like eighteen, I think, when he got his first tattoo – without grandma’s approval of course – and I was the only one who knew. I could barely speak back then so I guess he didn’t think it would matter if I saw it or not. Well, no one could explain the sharpie-drawn cat on my forearms that they definitely weren’t allowed to wash away or I’d throw a tantrum. Long story short, I accidentally rated him out to my grandma when he was sleeping, pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and everything so yeah.”

You chuckled at the fond memory and Yunho fought the urge to kiss you until he was on the brink of passing out.

“What would you get done then?”

“I don’t know, I’m really indecisive but I’m thinking of a back tattoo, you know those that go along your spine?”

For being someone opposed to getting tattoos, Yunho nearly took note from Mingi’s 101 guide of persuasion and got down on his knees. A back tattoo – any tattoo really – on you would have him barking like a dog and living up to the name of being a golden retriever and he felt no shame about it.

“Th–at would look good on you,” he coughed.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that perv.”

Yunho poked you in the side and you immediately curled up on yourself which only made matters worse as you moved closer to him.

“Stop! I’m sorry,” you said between giggles and he immediately ceased his advances.

“That’s what I thought, now up. Gotta give you a bath.”

The gentleman he was, took care of you in many ways besides worshiping between your legs. Always attentive and vocal about your needs, he made sure you were comfortable even while you floated between consciousness and dreamland.

“Nooo! I’m tired.”

The grip around him tightened but with legs like jello and your brain only recently coming back from the post orgasm haze, Yunho could have you in the bathtub in seconds. You nuzzled against his chest and blinked slowly while asserting your thoughts. As dizzying as your vanilla perfume was to him, Yunho’s scent of burning wood was completely intoxicating and it nearly lulled you to sleep if it weren’t for his fingers caressing the back of your neck. How he got you to pee was a mystery of its own.

“Okay, a few more minutes but I’m getting you in that shower either way.”

“Thank you, Yuyu!”

He earned a kiss to the apple of his cheek and triumph fluttered through your veins at his red tinted ears. It was funny how he was more flustered over an innocent peck than staring straight at your wet core. Yunho felt the smugness radiate off you in waves and quickly redirected the attention elsewhere.

“Have you always wanted to be a preschool teacher?”

“No,” you started and softly ghosted your fingers on the spot beneath his peck, a trail of goosebumps trailed after your touch. “It’s silly, but I wanted to be a cat shop cashier.”

“A cat shop cashier?”

Yunho craned his neck and if you weren’t so tired you’d laugh at his frozen expression. Instead you mustered up a hum and drew an invisible cat on his body, much like the one from your childhood days.

“I warned you it sounded silly.”

“I’m not judging you, I’m just…what is that?”

“A girl who sells things with cats on them,” you said like it was as clear as the sky being blue and the grass green.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t have the money for it. A shop doesn’t just fall from the sky, you know? Plus my parents weren’t, I wouldn't say they were against it but they were worried I’d end up on the streets or something so I did the next best thing and studied hard, enrolled in college and now I’m waving bye to kids wearing backpacks with dogs on them.”

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around you and squished you closer against him, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. Hearing about your cat-shop-dream not even having the chance of leaving the four walls of your childhood bedroom really struck a chord in him. If it was someone who understood how it felt to not have anyone in their corner, it would be Yunho. With a five dollar bill, a guitar case and a poor impression of Spongebob he took the first train to Seoul to pursue his dreams and while he wasn’t exactly famous, he wasn’t whatever his parents thought he’d be.

“But it all played out in the end,” you finally said and closed your eyes.

“How come?”

“Because I found something better.”

One of the many Spiderman movies played on the TV in your living room. It was Yunho’s idea to have a movie marathon over the weekend and you were currently watching the second movie starring Tobey Magiure. Snacks and soft drinks littered the table, but you weren’t craving them as much as Yunho’s touch. Laying in his embrace, back against his clothed chest and one arm thrown over your waist, you wondered if the movies were an excuse to get cozy with you.

Throwing a quick glance at the digital clock in the corner of the tv screen you realized it was nearing midnight and you could feel the sleep sneaking up on you. It was gradually becoming harder to keep your eyes open and just when you were about to succumb to dreamland an electric like jolt shocked you awake. The hem of your shirt had risen through the night and Yunho’s fingers found comfort on the exposed skin of your tummy. His hand flew from you as if being burned by a hot stove.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?”

You shook your head and smiled at the instinctual worry. There was something so attractive about his attentive side. You were one month into…whatever this labeless thing you were having and not once did he make you feel uncomfortable. He always checked in on you, made sure you were on the same level and asked for permission about the smallest of things but it was appreciated, nonetheless.

“No, it was just unexpected…but not unwanted.”

You steered his hand back over your stomach and fought the shiver wanting to glide down your back. Despite their humongous size, his fingertips were soft and gentle, and the warmth of his touch sent goosebumps trailing along your skin. Face burning and heart doing somersaults, you nuzzled against his bicep taking on the task of a pillow under your head. Pushing yourself, you pressed a chaste kiss to the muscle and glued your attention back to the movie, refusing to meet his eyes. In that moment Yunho swore he could feel his heart jump in his throat and he didn’t even need to touch his ears to know they were burning red.

You had gotten quite intimate with each other. Never being able to finish a movie without locking lips or being in the same room for more than five minutes without one hand straying to the other. Not to say Yunho wasn’t affected by your sudden displays of affection – because he was – yet those small innocent acts did far worse things to Yunho’s well being than anything else.

“Who’s your favorite Spiderman?” You asked to distract him from what the hell you just did.

The lack of answer didn’t go unnoticed and as you turned your head sideways, lips parted and ready to ask again, your breath hitched in your throat at his half lidded eyes drinking you up. They were blown out with lust and desire, a look you’d gotten familiar with.

“Yuyu–”

“I want you so badly,” he said, voice low and soft that you simply couldn’t deny him.

You also couldn’t fight the fact that you wanted him equally as much. Saying nothing you pressed your lips against his and he was quick to set the pace, starting gentle and then turning needy and sloppy with tongues rolling against each other. Consumed by the heat of the moment, Yunho grabbed your hips and perched you on his lap while he simultaneously sat up against the sofa. Like two puzzle pieces completing each other you slid your hands to the back of his neck and played with the hair on his nape. The movie was long forgotten and all the sound effects were drowned out by the muffled whines and moans filling the apartment.

“Yunho,” you panted and rolled your hips against his.

In return his hands roamed the sides of your body, squeezing at every curve and dip, and smirked at your beautiful noises. His every kiss and grope of flesh was driving you crazy and you were seconds away from begging for his fingers, mouth, cock. Whatever he wanted to do, you’d let him.

Breaking apart for air, Yunho didn’t stop showering you with affection and peppered kisses from your jaw down to your neck that you oh-so generously exposed by tilting your head sideways. Sucking, nipping and licking, he gave you no rest and awakened a needy pulse between your legs. Your breathy moans grew louder and shot straight to his groin and he had to physically restrain himself from bucking up against you. Thighs so thin you could feel the hard tent in his sweats that also did barely anything to cover his length. Wanting something else to occupy your hands, you slid them down his shoulders and chest, and with burning cheeks you sneaked them under his shirt exploring the muscles over his stomach. You traced each and every outline with feather-like touches that sent his stomach contracting and a deep groan reaching your ears. Your ego rocketed at the bodily reaction and quickly faltered as licked over the spot right between your jaw and ear, earning himself another breathy moan,

“Yunho, please.”

“Please, what?”

You could feel his devilish smirk against your skin. To coax you into speaking, he did it again followed by the graze of his teeth.

“Need yuh, please.”

“What, darling? What do you need?”

You whined as he continued the assault on your neck, covering it in beautiful love bites, and all you did in return was grind against his cock trying to find some relief to your aching cunt.

“Want me here?”

He flicked his thumb over your covered left boob and a sharp sensation shot from your cunt to your breast like lightning. The sudden change of atmosphere left you more courageous than usual. Grabbing the hem of your shirt you tore the material off yourself and left Yunho stunned. Despite not being completely nude, he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate you like the art you were.

“You’re beautiful,” he said and traced the edge of your bra cups.

Not expecting the night to take a drastic turn, you didn’t think to wear anything nice but a set of black underwear.

“May I?”

He reached around your body to the clasp holding your bra together. High on love, you nodded with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. His fingers grazed the skin on your back and left exploding tingles in his wake. With your consent he unclasped the top and cupped your breasts in his hands, giving them light squeezes that had you arching your back in response, pushing more into his touch.

“You’re perfect,” Yunho whispered and hovered his thumbs over the hardened nipples. “I wonder if they taste as sweet as they look.”

He breathed hot air over them making you squirm more in his lap and looking up, he was meet with your fucked out gaze – eyes barely open, lips swollen and shiny from his spit – and he was yet to even touch you properly. Easing you into it, he pressed a chaste kiss to your breastbone before latching around your left nub and sucking hard. Your hands flew up around his hair, pressing his head further into your chest. Yunho then released and blew gently on your puckered nipple.

“Mo-h, more!”

“I haven’t even touched you, baby, and you’re already whining? Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Yes! Yes, I can handle it, I’ll be so good, just pleas–”

Wasting no time, Yunho wrapped his lips around the other boob, giving it an equal amount of attention. His tongue drew circles around it, making it shiny just how he liked it and then sucked again. It was messy and nasty but felt so good. Your brain was already short circuiting and hips moved on their own, practically humping his hardened dick that stood proudly against the gray fabric. The thought of his cock – large and thick – had you soaking through your panties and you wondered how he’d make it fit. Would he use his long, nimble fingers or his tongue?

A lewd image of you laying in bed on your stomach with Yunho behind, dick aligned with your wet pussy, popped in your mind. Him groaning in your ear from how hard your pussy clenched around his cock and you moaning from the delicious stretch that came with every thrust, reaching deep into you. That alone could make you come right on the spo–

A sharp ring cut through your sinful thoughts, but Yunho kept sucking on your tits. In your dazed state he even shifted to the other one, saying something about taking care of his girls as he pinched the wet nub between his thumb and index fingers, squeezing and rolling it until you were left breathless.

“Yun-ah! Yunho! The phone,” you whined out.

“Ignore it,” he growled and kissed your neck again, hands coming down to squeeze your ass.

The feel of his large hands on your backside quickened the pace of your moving hips. You almost obeyed his order as the phone stopped buzzing only for it to pick up again. Finding the light in your hazed mind you put the intimacy on pause. Hands pushing at his shoulders until he complied and leaned against the sofa.

“It may be important. What if it’s one of the guys?”

Your words were distant as his eyes were locked on your chest dripping and bruised from his work.

“Yunho!”

“Wha– I’m listening!”

“Answer the phone, you weirdo.”

Standing up on wobbly legs you nearly toppled over and you would, hadn’t Yunho caught you by your hips. The ‘thanks’ died in your throat at the sight of his stiff cock. It wasn’t the first time he got hard from a make out session and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. You quickly put the shirt back on while he awkwardly grabbed his phone.

“Don’t cover up just yet, doll, I’m not done with you.” He answered the call with a, “This better be important.”

And it was judging by the way his jaw unclenched and eyes widened.

“Finally! Where the hell have you been?!” You could make out the faint and distressed voice of Yeosang. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a while now, we need a group meeting.”

“Group meeting? For what?”

Panic rose in a sickening surge as you listened to the one sided conversation.

“That’s the thing. I can’t say over phone so get your ass to Hongjoong’s.”

“Is everything alright?” You whispered from beside him.

“I’ll be there, just give me a few.”

The call ended and Yunho stuffed the phone in his back pocket.

“Yeah, or at least I think so? Yeosang called for a meeting but didn’t say why...”

A mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you took his hand in yours.

“Well then, pretty boy. I say you get over there and hurry back to me.”

The wiggle of your brows had you both bursting out in laughter and Yunho closed the distance between you once again.

Of all the things Yunho could expect the meeting to be about, he never imagined it to change the trajectory of his life. In less than twenty four hours Blue Bird would be signing a record deal with one of – if not the – biggest music companies in Seoul. Their teenage dreams of making music and performing in front of thousands would come true and Yunho couldn’t be happier. The one thing he was praying for, despite not feeding into his parents’ religion, came to life and in that moment he cursed himself for not sharing the same joy as his bandmates. Because all Yunho could think about was what that meant for you.

“We have to celebrate,” shouted Mingi and slung one arm over Yunho’s shoulders.

Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yeosang jumped in tow, all sporting wide grins and even tears shining in their eyes.

“I’ll call Wooyoungie and see if he wants to come,” replied Yeosang as he left for the kitchen.

“We should see if he’s up for designing us some clothes. It would give us more exposure for sure.”

Seonghwa clapped his hands together and immediately imagined the crazy clothes he’d have on stage. He’s always wanted to try corsets and heels, and pretty skirts and with Wooyoung’s magic he’d definitely not be disappointed.

“I’m bringing out the champagne!”

Yunho watched Hongjoong run after Yeosang, his platinum hair shining in the dim light, and slumped back against the couch. It was weird. He’s been dreaming of this opportunity ever since he was introduced to KISS back in middle school (secretly of course, God forbid his parents heard what their eldest son was listening to) but he couldn’t shake away the bittersweet feeling festering in his stomach. A rough shove against his side snapped him out of his dazed thoughts.

“You good?”

Mingi, always the observant one, noticed the flicker of sadness in Yunho’s eyes. The taller of the two nodded despite feeling his dinner climbing its way back out.

“Yeah, it’s just…crazy.”

“Tell me about it, but hey we’re just getting started. A whole new life’s waiting on us. Girls, money, fame, everything we’ve dreamed of, Yunho.”

For once, Yunho’s dreams of a fast and luxurious life with expensive bikes, clothes and VIP parties lasting until the early hours of the morning changed into something quiet and humble; an apartment big enough for two and a dog lingering between his legs as he laid in bed with you in his arms. His dream of swimming in money burst as a new cloud came to mind. A dream of a girl who brought out the best in him with her kind words and soft touches of affection. His own thoughts were taunting him just like his relatives did back in Gwangju – about the dream he’d never achieve – and unlike then he was starting to believe it.

That night Yunho didn’t allow himself to sleep. His mind tortured him with flashbacks of all the times the universe sent him signs that you were two stars on completely different sides of the galaxy. Yunho couldn’t light a cigarette without seeing your scrunched up face or drink a cup of coffee and not imagine your downturned lips and tongue sticking out in disgust. At the same time, he avoided anything and everything sweet as it worked as a reminder of the very person he deprived himself of.

After tossing and turning for the most part of the night, you woke up to the sound of heavy rain splattering against the windows of your bedroom. You couldn’t shake away the inkling feeling that it wouldn’t be the best day of your week, and considering last night’s scare you insisted your worry wasn’t unjustified. The time on your phone showed you still had a few hours before your alarm would go off for work. You wondered what Yunho was doing and what the meeting was about. There were no messages or calls from him, which wasn’t that unusual, but you were used to good morning texts and an array of different emojis.

Willing yourself not to think much of it, you made yourself a cup of coffee and clocked into work earlier than scheduled. You couldn’t stop thinking about Yunho and decided to send him a quick message despite the moral part of your inner-self telling you not to. The following embarrassment was locked in your work cabinet with all your belongings and worrisome thoughts. For the next eight hours you busied yourself with work; playing with the kids, serving them food, changing diapers, putting them to sleep. You moved on autopilot and didn’t, not once, think of a certain tall boy who could play the guitar blindfolded.

The clock struck five PM and you kept your dignity in mind as you refrained from bolting down the hallway. The last group of kids had just been picked up and you made a beeline for the locker room.

You [06:05 AM] Good morning 🌷how’d the meeting go? Delivered

The message was left unread and the delivered status was exceptionally bright. You couldn’t shake away the thought that something wasn't right, but you didn’t want to overwhelm Yunho as you still didn’t know what the meeting was about. You’d be damned if it turned out to be something bad. The last thing he needed was a girl pestering him about it. Doing what you did best, you put on a smile and went back home, but not before stopping by a bakery for some strawberry pastries with the hopes of sweetening up your gloomy afternoon.

The red bike you were very accustomed to stood parked outside your apartment building but its owner was nowhere in sight and your phone was still void of notifications. It could only mean one thing. You raced up the flight of stairs and lo and behold there he was; sitting on the stair outside your door with a lighter twirling between his thumb and index finger. He looked nothing like the Yunho you knew. His face was bare and lacked the usual dark makeup smudged on his skin, and he only wore a gray hoodie and sweatpants while his fingers were void of silver bands and whatnots. He still looked handsome as ever though.

“Yuyu!”

You jumped in his arms and he grabbed onto the railing not to fall backwards. Your body slotted perfectly against his and your breath tickled his neck. Yunho had one arm around your waist and the other moved to cup the back of your neck. He inhaled your vanilla perfume and tried engraving in his mind.

“I thought I recognized your ride. What are you doing here?”

“Just needed to see you,” he replied as you moved to unlock the door.

His hand itched to reach for yours. To have you tucked under his arm or back glued to his chest, elbows or knees touching, anything really. He just needed the feel of your touch.

“Ah, you had me worried! I mean I’m happy to see you, but you didn’t reply to my text this morning and seeing the bike I really thought something happened.”

A forced laugh made its way past his lips and he was quick to pat your head.

“You always worry about me, don’t you?”

His hand slid down to your jaw and thumb caressed your chin, grazing your bottom lip.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my phone at Hongjoong’s and he’s still at work so I couldn’t get it. Was it something important?”

“You’ll drive me into an early grave, Jeong Yunho.”

“Yah, don’t say that!”

Yunho nearly ascended like a helium balloon at the sound of your laughter. The Heaven’s gate came to view as you blessed him with that bright smile of yours. Teasingly you got closer to him so your breaths mingled in the air.

“Who will be the death of who now?”

The question was soft and came out in a hushed whisper, and if you weren’t a pinky away from him you’d completely miss it. Yunho gazed into your eyes and you had never felt so seen before. He looked at you as if you had the world in your palms and he was ready to risk it all. A bit flustered under his loving stare, you tried reflecting his attention elsewhere.

“How’d the meeting go?”

The moment the words left your mouth Yunho visibly sagged and his lips pursed into a tight line. You tried finding an answer in his suddenly softened eyes but all you could see in them was sadness. Yunho cleared his throat and widened the distance between you as if it would lighten the blow of his news.

“So…Blue Bird is signing a record deal with Brother Choi Industries…”

“Oh my God! Yunho, that's great!”

Yunho caught you in the air. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and your cheek squished against his. The happiness surged out of you like rays of the sun and instead of warming him up, it pierced his body to the core. You planted a quick kiss to his cheek that left a prickling feeling after and then you were down again, feet meeting the floor.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?! We have to celebrate! C’mon, we’ll do whatever, it’s on me.”

Fingers latched around his wrist and the purse with all your belongings thrown over your shoulder, you headed for the door again but Yunho didn’t budge. Like an oak rooted to the ground, he stood in place and it dawned on you that he didn’t match your excitement.

“Can’t we just, I don’t know, stay inside? Watch a movie or something…”

“Yeah– yeah, of course,” you whispered and led him to the living room. “Put on whatever and I’ll bring some snacks.”

You couldn’t help but worry. News like that usually called for drinks or a nice dinner with one's friends or family. The thoughts of what could have happened were endless and did nothing to soothe the growing ball of anxiety in your abdomen. Patient as always you didn’t push further on the matter and just gathered whatever snacks you had in your cupboards (oreos and a half-empty packet of chips). Your eyes traveled the length of Yunho’s body stretched out on the sofa and then shifted to the TV.

“Bluey?”

“I like the gentle-parenting,” Yunho whispered and you nearly turned into a puddle on the spot.

“It’s a good show. I give it five stars and the preschool teacher approval stamp.”

As you laid down everything on the table, Yunho raised one arm in the air, a silent request for you to make yourself at home in his hold. Head on his chest, you could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart and the warmth seeping through his thick clothes. His hands were intertwined on your lower back, occasionally rubbing his thumbs over the fabric which would have any cat purring in seconds. Your left arm was squished against the sofa while the other played with one of the strings on his hoodie.

The series of colorful dogs wasn’t new to you as almost the entirety of the kids at the preschool had some kind of product with the cartoon characters splayed on, whether it be a backpack, water bottle or bandaids. It was either that or Paw Patrol, and personally speaking you preferred the Australian doggos.

For a good hour or two Yunho just laid there with his eyes glued to the animated show but mind running laps. He didn’t reach for any of the goods on the table or excused himself for a pee-break he so desperately needed because he knew the moment he moved, you’d look at him with pleading eyes and ask what’s on his mind. And although he’d been camping outside your apartment for three hours, he still couldn't find the right words to tell you what’s been bugging him since Yeosang’s revelation. He wasn’t there to tell you about the stupid record deal or how he forgot his phone (it was in his back pocket). Yunho came to break things up, something he knew was inevitable since the first night he laid eyes on you.

“Yuyu,” you whispered and poked his cheek, trying to get his attention.

The guitarist was there physically but where he had gone mentally was a mystery and you noticed it early on when he didn’t mention anything about Bandit playing the toy drum set.

“Hmm?”

He blinked back to reality and turned to face you who had changed position to lay flat on him, chin perched on top of your hand and pouty lips.

“Your heartbeat’s really loud. Is everything okay?”

Nothing about this was okay.

It wasn’t okay that your bodies fit like puzzle pieces. It wasn’t okay that you were great together despite your contrasting looks. It wasn’t okay that the girl of his dreams was the polar opposite of himself.

“I’m just thinking…a lot.”

“About the record label?”

Fuck the record label, is what Yunho wanted to say. It was the last thing on his mind, right below his parents and every other person who had their doubts about him. The real words lingered on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken out in the open and he nearly swallowed them back down, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie, not when you looked at him with worry written all over your features.

“About…you. About us.”

“What about us?”

Your voice came out higher at the end and he knew the question you were thinking of was something completely different than what he was about to say, and it hurt so much.

“It's just not…I don’t think we’re that good of a match.”

He caught the moment your world came crashing down. How the light of worry turned into confusion.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

By that point you both sat back up on your knees and hands on your thighs, while he moved so his legs were drawn up to his chest.

“I don’t understand. I thought you liked me...”

“I do, but it’s not– I’m…sorry.”

This was all too much for you and you were torn between lashing out in anger or hearing him out. Your heart pounded against your chest and you could feel it crack from the pressure of his confession. As if that wasn’t enough a stinging sensation burned behind your eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything from the start then? If you never wanted this to happen, why’d you kiss me in the first place or take me out on dates? We’ve been tiptoeing between friends and something more for the past six months and suddenly we can’t be either?!”

The desperation dripping from your words was clear as a summer’s sky and while you tried to prove a point, Yunho wasn’t having any of it.

“It felt right in the moment, but the more time we spent together I realized that we’re too different, it just won’t work–"

You were quick to follow up. Tongue sharp and fire behind your words, they were nothing like the sweet scent of strawberries and roses he was used to. Yunho had never seen you so upset.

“This has nothing to do with our differences, Yunho! We are great together and we’ve proven it countless times. There’s something deeper than that, something you’re not telling me and I don’t know why. What have I done to ruin your trust in me?”

A beat of silence passed. The apartment was completely quiet and you wondered if the neighbors were listening in on the argument, and if they did then what a great first impression Yunho was leaving them with.

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin you,” he whispered, lips in a pout and eyes glistening like an ocean’s reflection of a night sky.

As if a pair of invisible hands, the words plunged into your chest and forcefully grabbed at your heart only to tear out the poor beating organ and throw it across the ground. To think Yunho saw himself as a problem – as a stain in your life – that he was depriving him (and you) of something beautiful, it fucking hurt.

“Don’t do that. That’s not fair, Yunho. You’d never ruin me, do you understand? This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time and I need you to know it.”

“It’s not going to work. You’re too good and I’m– you’re, I’m bad for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me! It’s not like I’ve never touched a cigar before in my life, or tried strong liquor or, I don’t know, had flings here and there! You’re talking as if you’re a drug lord or something. You’re just a– a– an upcoming rockstar! With an ambition that takes up a lot of your time and who occasionally smokes and drinks to de-stress. Don’t think I’m some saint you’re going to corrupt because I’m far from it, Yunho.”

Silence.

While Yunho knew everything you said to be true, it didn’t fit the image he created of you and he could only fault himself for it. You noticed his eyes wandered around, jumping from furniture to furniture, all to avoid yours. So with shaky hands you gently – like he was a baby chick – cradled his chin and turned him towards you.

“I want you, so why won’t you let me have you?”

The crack in your voice confirmed his stupid theory of being bad for you. It was better this way, but goddammit did he want to wrap you up in his embrace and kiss the top of your head and whisper soothing things in your ear. To say ‘I’m not going nowhere’ and ‘I’m sorry’ a thousand times over until the damage would glue itself back together. He wanted to be the one giving you strength and not stack rocks upon rocks on your shoulders.

“It’s not just about that. I’m going to be a…rockstar soon. The fans, some of them are going to be nice, but not all will wish the best for us. If something were to come out about us, they’d leave you restless. I’ve seen it happen to others and I don’t want you to suffer that same path.”

And if you could see through his lies, you mentioned nothing of it.

“That’s not your decision to make and you know it! I like you and you obviously like me, nothing else matters besides that, please, listen to me. Yunho, I don’t care about anything else but you.”

He nuzzled against your palm and leaned closer until his forehead rested against yours. He wanted to remind you of your agreement, to call him Yuyu and only that, but it was a privilege he wasn’t granted anymore. You squeezed your eyes shut, not bearing to see his wet cheek, but even that didn’t stop your own tears. You felt the soft pad of his thumb wipe away the streams of salty water flowing down your skin and you didn’t know what was worse. That he was the reason behind them or that it was the first and last time he’d ever wipe tears from your face again.

“You’re gonna have a good life without me, you’re gonna grow and go places. You’re gonna get that cat lady shop and be the best cat shop cashier the world has ever seem, and you’ll meet someone way better than me–”

“But I want you!”

“You’re gonna forget about me and find someone deserving of you. Someone that can shower you with unconditional love.”

“Then be that someone. Get better, do better and stop trying to ruin this thing we have!”

“And I want you to stay just as you are. Okay? Gentle and loving and sweet. This world doesn’t deserve you and neither do I, but you deserve someone, yeah, sweet pea?”

Yunho’s voice cracked and you quickly dragged him into a bone crushing hug. He hid in the crook of your neck, arms going around you in a tight grip as if you’d disappear the second he let go. In the safety of your arms he let down his guard and the loud cries that followed prickled your skin just as much as yours clawed at his heart. You stayed in each other’s hold and drew soothing shapes on each other’s backs as you cried your hearts out.

Your arms were numb and your body refused to produce more tears to cry, but even then you didn’t budge. You knew if you let go Yunho would take it as his cue to leave and you couldn’t bear that just how you couldn’t stop whimpering as he pressed soft kisses to your temple or whispered apologies in your ear.

“I have to go,” he eventually whispered and your heart – that you were still picking up the pieces of – broke all over again, sending shards of blood and tissue everywhere.

Your hold tightened and he truly felt evil as he broke out of your grip and got a good look at your swollen face.

“I’m so sorry, sweet pea.”

“Pluh-please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kiss me, then,” you wailed. “If you can’t stay, just kiss me one last time.”

Never one to deny your wishes he slotted his lips against your and tasted the mix of your salty tears. Your fingers curled painfully in his cheeks and the hold he had on your waist was sure to leave bitter bruises in the morning. Yunho poured every ounce of affection, his heart and soul – his everything – into the kiss. It was something he’d never done before but he needed you to know that while you maybe hadn’t reached the stage of love just yet, his adoration of fondness was never fake. Whatever feeling he had for you that was the closest to love, it was never fake.

Teary eyes stared into each other as you parted, breaths heavy and lungs ready to burst through your chest. He gave you one last peck on the cheek and broke free from your grip, and like the broken record left in his childhood bedroom, he repeated the useless apologetic words until they lost all their meaning. Your muffled cries shot straight to his heart and he could feel it crack with each step taken further away from you

As Yunho passed the threshold of your apartment for the last time, he kept telling himself that it was for the best. Your undeserving love would just be ruined in the palms of his hands and he had to leave before it became something he was too afraid to let go off. He had to leave even if meant snapping free from the vines you barely managed to twine around his limbs. It would be sharp and quick and hurt like a paper cut but with no permanent scars.

The more he lingered around you, the deeper and tighter the roots went and more sweetpeas would grow and wrap around his body, and fill him with a love and warmth that was impossible to flee. And when the seasonal change began and all the birds fled somewhere warmer, he’d have no choice but to forcefully cut the vines curled around him and hurt you beyond repair. That wasn’t something Yunho could ever see himself do and before it turned into a cloying love, he’d save you both the hurt and pain, and just leave. You’d eventually grow your sweetpeas somewhere else.

Because in the end, you were all too sweet for him.

Author's note pt.2: I've read a lot of different interpretations of the song and I wanted to share my (if you haven't kind of already grasped it). While reading the lyrics, I understood that person A doesn't believe they are worthy of person B because of their different life styles and nature. In short, they are complete opposites. While that can be good (opposites attract) person A doesn't see it that way. They know right from the start that they aren't destined to be (the reasons to this are endless) yet they still try to pursue a relationship with person B until something tells them "this isn't right". Now being polar opposites, Person B thinks that person A is the one for them despite their differences. As mentioned, I know there are a lot of different opinions of what the actual meaning of the song is and I can totally get behind those too, but this was my first interpretation and what kick-started this whole oneshot.

Disclaimer For this fic, I didn't want to make it into an experienced x inexperienced trope. Mainly because a lot of people associate innocence with dressing/acting cutesy which I believe isn't valid. People can still like pastel colors, cute trinkets, dress cute and still be experienced (with sex, smoking, drinking, tattoos, piercings, etc). I think it gives a little more depth to the story by not making the MC new to all that, but I'm not trying to spread shame on those who are inexperienced as there's absolutely nothing wrong with it!!!

Also it's my first time ever writing something close to smut and it was so hard! I can't stress it enough 😭 I'll have to practice it way more before even attempting the real deal lmao. While we're at it, it's also my first time writing for Yunho so I hope I brought him justice!

If you've made it this far I just wanna thank you for reading (everything) and I hope you've enjoyed ❤️

#[🐶] HONGJOONGSPOETRY #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho oneshot #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #ateez songfic #kpop x reader #songfic #hozier #too sweet hozier #fluff #angst #rockstar au

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demonichikikomori · 3 months

Text

Flex

Sebek Zigvolt x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k+ Tags: MC is Checkin’ Out the Gun Show/Suggestive

Art by 〇 on Pixiv!

I am not against Sebek Zigvolt Propaganda… HOWEVER! I wish he would use his indoor voice a little more. He... His VA speaking normally is nice. I... Ahem... This was technically made as a birthday gift for the wonderful @ruggiethethuggie since the other gift is still... Unfinished... And I'm sorry... I will finish it one day... Please accept this for now my dahling and happy birthday hehe. I would've wrote some Rizzley content but... I don't feel confident yet wwwww. Anyway, have a Hellishly Happy Birthday! <3 <3 <3

SUMMARY:

You asked Sebek to flex for you. Why? Ace said if you could get a photo of him flexing before the end of the night, he would do all of your Animal Linguistics homework for a month! How hard could it be?

“Human, what are you attempting to ask of me?!” Sebek was already shouting. His brows furrowed and thick forearms flexed beneath his black blazer as his arms crossed over his chest. Thankfully you met with him outside near the gardens so his voice wasn’t echoing through the halls of Night Raven College. “I want to take pictures of you flexing.” You responded with feigned confidence in your voice, struggling to keep yourself from warbling or looking anywhere but his face. You never actually dreamed of asking Sebek such a thing. You also never planned to speak with him unless you had to. This was brought about as a dare from Ace Trappola. If you can get a picture of Sebek flexing for you, he would do ALL of your Animal Linguistics homework on your behalf for a straight month. It sounded easy when Ace offered up the proposal. Key word: Sounded.

Sebek was staring down at you with a face full of suspicion, his lips curling with mild disgust. You could see how sharp his cuspids were. “Why are you asking me for such a thing?! Could it be you are searching for my weak points?! I won’t let you find them! I am Malleus’ impenetrable shield!” He roared and reached for his magical pen, causing you to take three nervous steps back with your hands held up in defense. “No! No! No it’s not like that! It’s nothing to do with Malleus!” You cried out as Sebek clutched the glowing pen in his grasp. His eyes narrowed angrily as you scrambled to find an excuse. “Then why would you want to get a photo of me exposed?” He snarled with venom in his tone. You could feel your face becoming warm from the way he phrased the question. “Don’t say it like that! Just know that I need to get a picture of you flexing!” You answered and he still looked unwilling to do anything with you or for you. “It’s for personal reasons!” Still nothing. “I want to try building muscle mass and I wanted a picture for inspiration!” You shouted, you were running out of ideas and you were even more embarrassed now. Your face was on fire and you honestly wished that the Earth would open beneath you and swallow you whole. If Ace was here, he would be laughing so hard his stomach would’ve burst. You couldn’t tell Sebek that Ace sent you, he would downright refuse if he knew the truth. Sebek hesitated before tucking his pen away, a stern look replaced the suspicion and his posture relaxed. “I see. Fear not, Human! For the sake of becoming stronger, I shall agree!” He shouted and you felt your muscles relax hearing him comply. “Under one circumstance!” Damn it. He crossed his arms over his chest with a confident smile, you could see his eyes glittering with joy. “I wish to see your resolve in exchange for my photo! You shall be exercising with me tonight!” He announced and you felt your jaw fall slack. He expects you to actually exercise with him? The most you’ve ever done was a few meek push-ups during P.E with Coach Vargas. He didn’t give you a chance to refuse as he laughed and walked off, leaving you alone in the courtyard to mentally prepare yourself for tonight.

*+=+*

You arrived late, closer to 11pm since you needed to put Grim to rest before you could sneak out. The atmosphere of Diasomnia was very intimidating, along with the students who stayed within the castle-like dorm. You had only made it a few steps past the heavy, gothic door before running into something. Something very solid. Thanks to this very solid object, it saved you from Lilia trying to offer you a snack or Malleus staring at you in total silence like a freak. You were still as Sebek looked down at you with a frown.

“Human, your eyes seem to fail you! Did you not see me in front of you?!” He shouted, but made no effort to move as you buried your face deeper into his chest. His uniform was absent. Sebek was dressed in a black compression shirt, and dark green sweatpants. The Diasomnia emblem was printed in white on his left thigh. “Sorry. I didn’t see you. Honest.” You spoke into his chest, relaxing against him as you silently admired how sturdy his body truly was. His toned abdomen, his thick pectoral muscles, his solid thighs, and even his large, strong hands now gripping you by the shoulders to shove you away. As he held you at an arm's length away, snapping angrily at you for your lack of awareness, you glanced down to see he was wearing a large pair of fluffy dragon slippers. Cartoonish and cute with tiny wings and a forked, felt, light pink tongue. They were a stark contrast to Sebek’s brash personality.

“Enough dawdling! You are late, and the Diasomnia curfew had begun two hours prior to your arrival!” He huffed as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “I told you, I had to wait for Grim to go to sleep first.” You scoffed and walked towards the stairs with him angrily following behind you. He was scolding you the entire time for your ‘timeliness’ and ‘lack of dedication’. But you don’t recall telling Sebek you would be showing up early to work out with him. The two of you entered his room, and you had to be cautious to step over a small pile of books. He was silent, but you noticed he was suddenly flustered. “Stand over there!” He commanded, and you obeyed, taking a spot next to his dresser.

You couldn’t help but smile as he began to tidy up his room. The books on the floor were cleared away, he hid a stack of papers into a notebook. He closed his closet filled with dark colored clothing, and he tucked his sword underneath his bed. Sebek’s cheeks were red, his face was scrunched into a scowl as he turned and pointed at you. “Now we may begin! Come! Show me your strength!” He commanded as you approached and stood before him, resisting the urge to smother your face in the valley of his broad chest. Sebek gripped your arms gently, giving them a soft squeeze before he observed your limbs one by one. He huffed as his calloused fingers slid across your skin, gliding along your forearm down to your nails. “Hm. Your health could be better, but we will make you a mountain of muscled perfection with plenty of training!” Sebek boasted with a gentle smack to your shoulders, causing you to flinch. You frowned at the idea of becoming nothing but pure muscle… Like a pro-wrestler?

“I will show you my basic exercises first, and because it is late, we will have you participate in our next meet!” He let you go before getting down to the floor. You sighed with relief, knowing you wouldn’t have to exert too much of your energy tonight. You’d need it for the long walk back to Ramshackle. “Human! Get on top of me!” He shouted, taking you by surprise as you looked down at him with your brows knit together.

He was in a push up position,.his head facing the floor as you nervously looked around. “Uhhh..?” You weren’t sure how to get on top of him. “Sit on me!” His voice was loud enough to rattle the walls and you were starting to feel flustered. “Okay, okay! Stop saying that!” You hoped that the walls were thick as you swung a leg over Sebek’s body, and slowly sat down on his lower back. Your feet were planted on the floor and you could see him slowly lowering himself to the ground, causing your legs to bend as you nervously looked towards the door. Now you were begging that everyone in the dorm was asleep. “Lift your legs, trust me to hold your weight on top of me!” He snapped, sounding agitated by your feet on the floor. “Oh my god- Sebek please talk quieter…” You whined as you lifted your legs and crossed them below his shoulder blades. He did not falter, instead, his push-ups began to quicken.

You sucked in air with widened eyes as he continued the steady pace of his push ups. “You make an excellent addition of weight, Human! You are the perfect size for me to become stronger for the sake of Malleus!” He laughed as you could see sweat collecting at his temples. His usually slicked back hair was falling loose around his face. You didn’t think he would have such ease with a human sized weight on top of him. How heavy were the dumbbells he usually lifted?! “Your arms look far too weak to hold my weight! So, I will show you mercy tonight!” He barked with a soft grunt, lowering himself to the floor again with a laugh. You couldn’t fathom how the conversation sounded out of context. Here you are, showing up late at night to meet with Sebek, and he can’t handle using an inside voice. Saying all of these strange things so late at night, hopefully no one gets any strange ideas. You reached for your phone, pulling it from your pocket as you observed the time. You only had ten minutes to midnight.

“Sebek, we should take a quick break!” You suggested as his push ups showed no sign of slowing down. You were sure he had already done over 50 by now. “A break?! I have hardly broken a sweat!” He sounded annoyed with your request and you started to squirm on top of him. “I need that motivational photo of you, remember?!” You announced as he finally slowed to a stop. “That’s right! How could I have forgotten?!” Sebek allowed you to climb off of him, the both of you getting to your feet as your heart began to race. Sebek towered above you, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as you lifted your phone with your face started to grow warm.

He stood before you with a proud smile, and flexed his arm for you to behold. You quickly snapped the picture, only five minutes to midnight. You could see the thick muscular arm sporting a long vein in the photo, paired with Sebek’s very handsome and proud smile. You stared at the photo in shock, observing the outline of his chest through the tight shirt, his long sharp fangs, the crease in his eyebrows… Everything.

His bicep suddenly flexed around your throat as he let out a hearty laugh. Your oxygen was being stolen away with each light squeeze and your face began to redden. But it wasn’t from the lack of air. “Human! We certainly must meet again for your training! With such weak arms, you’ll never become as strong as me! And a happy birthday to you. We will build your body so in the next year, we may fight properly!” He laughed as you groaned in response, your phone now dangling loosely in your fingers as you sent Ace the photo as your other hand tapped against his arm. You might pass out if he doesn’t let you go soon. But at least you won’t have to worry about homework for the next full month.

Tagged Accounts: @ruggiethethuggie @cvlutos @candlewitch-cryptic @yandere-kou @epelorchard

#sebek zigvolt #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt x yuu #sebek zigvolt x mc #sebek x reader #hellishly. happy. birthday #sebek fluff #sebek x yuu #sebek x y/n #sebek x mc #sebek twisted wonderland #sebek twst #sebek zigvolt fluff #suggestive

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hauntedwitch04 · 5 months

Text

Just a Mirror

Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 6.3k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes

REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !

p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

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Why?

This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.

You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze

You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.

Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.

"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.

As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.

"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.

After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.

"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.

"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.

"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.

You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.

Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.

You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.

That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.

You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.

You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.

He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.

Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.

"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.

The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.

"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."

You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.

"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.

"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.

"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."

"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.

"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.

"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.

"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.

"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.

There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.

The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.

So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.

Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.

Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.

Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.

It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.

You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.

In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.

You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.

"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.

You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.

Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.

You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.

"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.

You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.

"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.

"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.

"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."

You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.

"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."

You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.

"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."

Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.

You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.

"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.

"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.

You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.

"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.

"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.

"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.

"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.

"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.

"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.

"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."

You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.

"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."

He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.

This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.

"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.

"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"

"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.

"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"

"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.

"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.

It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.

TAGLIST

@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya

#hauntedwitch04's writing #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x plus size reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean x castiel #supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #becky's favorite #castiel x dean #castiel novak

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shattersstar · 1 year

Text

bound

pairing: vampire x reader

summary: He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired. It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

warning: horror-ish elements, blood mention., religious undertones (aka general vampire themes/concepts)

a/n: i have so much to say about this lil piece of writing omg okay, i wrote this back in May i believe around the time i was reading we have always lived in the castle and it Shows. its lowkey fantasy which is not like anything i write but the horror-ish vibes r pretty consistent with my original stuff. it is heavily inspired by a lot of the vampire media ive consumed too though even if its not based on one particular character. i have been thinking about it since i wrote it and while im a bit ehhh about posting something original i quite literally have nothing else to share and as i said before y’all keeping i’d still eat the fruit in my notifs is so :)))) so this is a thank you to y’all and a Step back into writing for me hopefully. ramble aside enjoy ! feedback and comments r always appreciated

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It had rained, no—poured, stormed, hailed, cried, screamed. It had swept in during the day, white noise to him as he slept, while it greeted you during breakfast. The clouds wept over the lands in what felt like divine punishment. It was as if nature or something higher than that was against him, accosting or trying to stop him. As he stood at the edge of the great forest, rain pelting the top of his head he assumed there was nothing greater than nature. Not even him. There was nothing higher nor more humbling. God could spite someone, but nature enacted it. It flooded your sleepy town and even sleepier forest and he was on the other side. Confined to his home until the storm cleared and the sun rose.

He would not be graced with your presence yet again and he tried to ignore the call to change you, to have his fangs pierce your skin and his blood run across your tongue. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself of the hurt it brought and he would never cause that for his love. His dearest who lived on the other side of the forest he was unable to cross. His icy glare moved along the border, not even noticing the rain drenching his billowing black cloak anymore. Somewhere in the forest a branch snapped and animals chattered.

He would live for eternity, he could wait for you. It was his resolution before heading back to his home in the woods and trying not to be angry, to let fury run through his long dead veins and restart his stilled heart. If anything—anyone—could, he knew it was you.

He followed the path compacted over the years of those travelling to stare at his home, humans daring each other to go near it, but never following through when the windows shuddered and a figure moved past one of them like a ghost. Times had changed, but people were as superstitious as ever. They saw his decayed and rotted home and prescribed evil to it. It was overrun with vines, leaves would not grow on them. Even in spring. They stayed black, and gnarled, tightening their hold in his house each season. Thorns protruding from some of the thicker vines, protecting him it seemed. You had noted that, staring at his wondrous home with bright eyes.

It was in a clearing in the forest, grey stone withered away and swallowed by nature. It still stood strong, the outside a grotesque picture that did not reflect the inside. Oil lamps and lighting fixtures alike lit the space from the inside out. It warmed the walls, revealing the deep brown wood panelling that made up the older parts of the house. The stairs were still the original wood, a grand staircase that greeted no one, but him and you these days.

Many of the rooms upstairs had been closed off, sheets gently placed over the old furniture and doors closed forever. He had no need for such space, other vampires stopped visiting when hunters started lingering in your town. You had told him of your many encounters, most were smart enough to stay out the forest, but they still killed many of his kind. Finding them in their carriages amongst the cars rolling down the freshly paved roads. Horses killed along with whoever dwelled inside. They saw themselves as vigilantes, but you had told him most of your town considered them a nuisance. Urban men thinking they can save the more rural lands that bordered their great cities. Cities that forgot the magic that once thrived in places like the forest.

“Their thinking of building a highway through it, connecting us to other towns or one of the bigger cities.” You had explained one day, sitting in his lap and letting him hold you. He hummed, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. You placed your warm hand over his and leaned further into his chest. He asked you to let him hold you and you had obliged like always.

He kept those memories in mind, the soft questions he would extend your way and how you listened so dutifully. May I hold you? Will you lay with me? Come walk through the cellar? Can I drink your—

His fist slammed against his dinning room table, nearly snapping it in two as a crack ran jagged through the centre of the chestnut coloured wood. His fangs were out, nails morphed into claws dug into his skin and blood dripped into the crack. He stared at it, muscles in his face twitching as he waited for it to end. Waited for the creature in him to return to laying dormant and his own clear, sound mind to return. Though he supposed it was never very clear or sound anymore, not when you had burrowed inside of him and promised to never leave. And as if his thoughts beckoned you themselves, the old telephone in his study rang. It’s shrill scream echoed through the quiet house, though the ring was discordant, snapping in two halfway through its loop and screeching a pitch higher. The noise made his pointed ears twitch and with a swoop of his cloak he was in his study. He answered it on the normal ring, cutting it off right before it went off tone.

He held the phone to his ear, but waited to speak. “Hello?” You asked, your voice soft and worried. You’d never called him before—truthfully he had no idea this phone even worked.

“Hello my love.” He returned, and you breathed out a happy sigh.

“Oh my god, hi! I found this number in some old directory—phone book thing,” You explained with an airy giddiness that he wished to share, “I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but…” You trailed off and he was smiling fondly into the receiver.

“I have missed you.”

“I miss you too, I hate this weather I can never get through the forest when its so rainy.”

“I know.”

“Maybe they should build a highway through it, I could hitchhike my way to see you.” You laughed, but he turned somber. Industrialization finally touching the sacred land of the forest didn’t sit right within him. It may be the great divider that kept him away from you, but it was his home. A highway felt like you were asking to be swept away, to a new town or bigger city that he could not adventure too. He could ask you to stay—he knew you’d oblige—but it was not his place to keep you here. “Is your phone one of those spin, dial ones?” You asked suddenly, breaking through the tension he hadn’t meant to create.

“A rotary phone?” He corrected with a ghost of a grin, “Yes it is.”

“I want to see it when I come over again.”

“And so you will.” It was quiet again and he hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face. He didn’t know he was able to cry anymore.

“I love you.” You whispered, holding your cellphone close, likely curled up in bed and staring out your window at the rain and the forest beyond it.

“I love you dearest.” His voice did not betray the sadness building in him. “Sleep beloved, I will see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m gonna come see you and your rotary phone.” You laughed, forced and watery.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You repeated, and hung up. He kept the black phone, laced with intricate gold details, to his ear for a moment longer. He had heard your voice at least and could sleep. He moved through his home, snuffing out candles and flicking off switches before finding the one room without windows. A coffin laid on the floor, dark brown and glistening with the finish that had been applied centuries ago.

He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired.

It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

Though it was hard to think of such evil things when looking at your face, he had taken the photo while you were on the roof. Wind had wiped your clothes into a frenzy and you laughed as the night sky twinkled behind you. He had taken it and was surprised when you’d given it to him only a few days later. He had kept up with modern technology as well as he could, but there was always something so magical about photographs to him. He collected hundreds over his life time, faces he knew and others he didn’t. Organized neatly into a collection of books, which he’d let you look through on occasion. He showed you photos from the many lives he’s lived, something about them bringing warmth rushing to your face.

He was always so devastatingly beautiful, regal and hypnotic across all eras. Yet, he couldn’t focus on the kind words that bubbled from your lips as the rushing of the blood under your skin nearly shattered something inside of him. His fangs threatened to meet your skin, but with calculated focus he reigned in his hunger. It was hard at first—you were the only human he had been around in decades—but he did it for love.

Everything he did was for love, it was his reason for existence it seemed. You had other reasons for your claim to life, but to him? You were all he had, the only reason to not let the sun engulf him or let a hunter kill him. He could not break your heart until you broke his. He let that thought dwell in his mind as sleep overtook him just as the sun rose and the rain ended. Its incessant pitter patter had ceased and he somehow dreamt of you standing golden in the forest and beckoning him closer.

He woke up to your face—maybe it wasn’t a dream—as you crouched next to his coffin. Maybe he had finally died and you were welcoming him to where God decided to send him. If you were there it couldn’t be hell. Could it be?

“My love—“ Your hand pressed to his chest, keeping him still. “It’s still daytime, sleep okay?” You whispered, hand moving to his jaw and cradling his face in your palm for a moment. “I’ll be back in a sec okay, I just need to change.” He nodded against you, kissing your hand before you let him reside in darkness. He had caught a glimpse of your pants caked in mud and could smell the blood from your skinned palms. Despite the slick terrain it seemed you ventured through the forest to see him. It made his chest shudder and for a moment he thought you had actually restarted his heart.

It was only a few minutes later when you were carefully opening his coffin again, now dawning a loose fitting silk shirt that made his red eyes alight with something wild. You had cleaned your scrapes and mud off your skin, smelling faintly of rain water and the lavender soap you gifted him. You stepped over him, nestling against his side and letting him enclose the two of you. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your head rested on his chest, knuckles grazing over your hair while you stretched an arm across his torso. Your legs intertwined with his long ones and you let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and while you likely couldn’t see as thing, he could see you perfectly. You shook your head no against his chest, yawning into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you.” You murmured, chin resting in his chest as you made hit best attempt at eye contact in the blackness. “I saw the dining room table, are you okay?” You asked, somehow staring through him in the darkness. He offered his hand instead of finding the words in his throat, slowly unravelling his fist to reveal a mark free palm. He wasn’t sure you understand what he meant or if your eyes adjusted enough yet, until you carefully closed it once again, kissing his knuckles and placed your hand over his. You both were silent for a moment, until you looked up at him again and breathed, “You’re all I want.”

“And you’re all I have.” He held you closer, watching a grin pull at the corner of your lips. He was sure it was that devotion, obsession even, with you that would bring about his downfall. Centuries old and all powerful, but reduced to nothing without you. His strength and knowledge meant nothing if he didn’t have you to share it with.

And you could not stand your stagnant life in a town full of people who wished his kind dead. You chose a trek through the forest during the twilight hours of the morning to see him, bringing him soft kisses and silk under his hands as you let your mouth meet his. You kissed him with all the exhaustion and lethargy wrapped up in the two of you, molasses slow kisses that were just as sweet. It was how you fell asleep, lips to his neck and head tucked under his chin before your warm breathed puffed across his pale skin. He fell asleep not long after, engulfing you in his embrace, his cloak draping over your frame as he decided home was where you asked him to be.

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lime1991 · 3 months

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those mlp infection aus on tiktok have been alright but heres my idea to consider:

the main characters of the au are the cmc. theyre not the lone survivors, and heres why: the infection almost entirely affects adults. this is just like a book i read in 5th grade, thats where im stealing this from.

Applebloom is the self appointed leader, shes best at foraging for food and growing it as well as building re-enforcements for the shelter (which is the clubhouse. it's higher up so they dont have to worry about most infected ponies reaching them.)

Scootaloo is the defender of the base as well as the group in general. shes the one who handles the weapons and is first to sacrifice herself for her friends to get to safety. She says its because he doesnt want to hold them back due to her disability, they tell her she doesnt have to think like that. but its hard not to.

Sweetie Belle is... not all there. sometimes she forgets the apocalypse has happened and that most of her loved ones are dead. Scootaloo and Applebloom take turns sleeping during the night to make sure someone is always lookout. that, and they can't risk Sweetie Belle unknowingly walking into the dark trying to get home.

Partially inspired by one of the best animes ive ever seen: School Live, Scootaloo and Applebloom sometimes, when Sweetie is having an episode, pretend everything is normal. Is the most they can do for their friend, who is clearly so traumatized that her brain blocks out the reality of their situation. Sometimes, Applebloom wishes that could happen to her.

When the infection started, it slowly took over the elderly first. Granny Smith got sick, fast. Big Mac and Applejack took care of her, but only a few days later she would turn into some kid of monstrous creature. Big Mac did the unspeakable act of putting her out of her misery.

Sweetie Bell was sent to go live with Rarity while her mother was sick. Her father began to feel ill too, and didn't want her to get herself and her friends at school sick as well. She could hear over the phone the conversations her sister and father had. How mom was getting worse, how dad was getting worse. How they stopped calling altogether.

A couple days into the widespread sickness, Scootaloo's aunts took a trip to the store to stock up on groceries just incase a quarantine was issued. They were gone for hours. They were gone for days. They never came back. Eventually, Scootaloo traveled outside of her home by herself, and could never return.

Once Big Mac and Applejack started showing signs of illness, Applejack spoke to cousins in other places wondering if they would be able to let Applebloom stay with them a while. But just like everyone in Ponyville, they were experiencing the same issue. At one point, Fluttershy agreed to watch Applebloom until AJ and Big Mac started to feel better.

After hearing that Fluttershy graciously took in Applebloom, Rarity sent Sweetie Belle off to her the moment she started to cough. She didn't want Sweetie to see her like that. She didn't want her to get sick either, and in fact, she probably transported it from their parents house and into Rarity's. That made Rarity angry. Her last words to Sweetie were about how upset she was that she'd brought the illness to her.

Scootaloo went to Fluttershy herself. She couldn't find Rainbow Dash, so she settled for the next best pony. She was shocked to see her friends had been there themselves the past few days. Scootaloo only managed to stay a few hours, because during the night the crusaders awoke to a crash in another room. Upon investigation they saw Fluttershy hunched over a broken glass. There was blood on the floor.

They went to comfort her, but she wasn't herself any longer. When she turned to face them it already looked like she'd been ravened by the infection. She was so hungry. Why couldn't the jar just open? She was so... hungry. Before she could even stand back up, the crusaders grabbed their things and fled to the only place they knew they'd be safe. The clubhouse.

#my little pony #mlp #mlpfim #mlp infection au #applebloom #scootaloo #sweetie belle #cutie mark crusaders #infection au #apocalypse au #ive made myself giddy thinking about this. i need to draw up some concept designs.

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sattlersquarry · 14 days

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the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?”

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out.

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

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

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