Just A Neon Weekend

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Then, he didn’t understand it but looking back, he now knows that he had always loved you. It wasn’t a love that needed to be built up, it was one that was just there naturally and it got stronger and stronger over time. You had his heart from the very beginning, he was yours, wholeheartedly yours. 

And you are his just like he is yours. 

Eddie kisses you desperately, passionately. Tears burn in the back of his eyes, his heart is racing in his chest, he feels like crying and smiling at the same time. He can’t believe that this is real, that he is kissing you that way, that he gets to undress you and touch and kiss every inch of your body. 

You have slipped through his fingers before because of his actions and despite how close you have gotten again, the tiny voice in the back of his mind was telling him that you might not take him back, that you might change your mind about him, that you might leave the band and him but you are here, with him, in his arms, begging for him to make love to you for the very first time. 

He was content with waiting, even if that meant waiting forever. He would because there is no one else that he wants, no one but you. 

“Please, Eddie.” 

Your desperate whisper, your soft touches, your pleading eyes make his heart flutter like crazy. 

“I got you, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your skin as he buries his face in your neck after taking your shirt off, he sucks on your skin, marking you up. He pushes you down on the bed, you put your hands on his waist and pull him down with you, catching him off guard a little. His nose bumps against yours, making you both groan. 

“Ouch,” you giggle. 

He cups your cheeks, “I’m sorry, baby,” he chuckles and leans in to kiss your nose before his lips meet yours again. You sigh into the kiss and wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer against you. He moans into the kiss when you grind against him. His dick twitches in his pants. The thought of having sex with you, of being inside of you, of making love to you makes him wanna cum already. 

“F-Fuck,” he murmurs against your lips, “I already know I’m not gonna last long.” You giggle at his words, brushing your fingers through his hair, you cup his cheeks and look into the eyes that stare back at you with so much love and adoration that it almost makes you cry. You peck his lips, “that’s okay, Eddie. I just wanna feel you.” 

Butterflies flutter in his stomach, your touch makes him shiver, he steals another kiss before he pulls himself up a little so he can look at you. Your eyes flash with love and happiness, with longing but also with vulnerability. Your chest is rising up and down heavily as you stare at him in anticipation. He can’t help but lean down again, kissing you again and again and again, making you giggle.

“You are so perfect,” he whispers against your cheek, “so beautiful,” he says as his hands move over your chest before they settle on your waist, “so sexy,” he whispers as he kisses your other cheek, “so fucking adorable,” he whispers as he kisses your forehead, “my girl.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest, happiness runs through you. You can’t even fight the smile off your face as you grab his face, “that’s all you.” 

His eyes light up and he smiles, “I’m your girl?” He jokes, wiggling his brows. 

You snort at his words, looking down at his lips, you lean up to kiss them, “you’re my pretty boy.”

His gaze softens and he almost wants to cry at your words. You don’t know how such simple words mean so much to him. 

“All yours,” he whispers. 

You tug at his shirt and he doesn’t waste a moment to take it off, throwing it to the ground before he connects his lips with yours again. God, he will never get sick of kissing you, if anything he gets more and more addicted to it. 

“I’m all yours,” he mumbles against your lips, “all yours, forever.”

Your hands are all over his skin, touching him like he has never been touched before– with so much love and desperation. He will never be the same again after this and he doesn’t mind, not a single bit. Even if you decide to leave him, even if you decide to break his heart, he could never regret this, he could never regret you. He will always, always love you. 

You only part away from the kiss when you are in need of air, gasping and breathing heavily, you stare at each other, wide pupils, lustful gazes– ones filled with love, you make each other feel something you have never felt before. 

You touch his chest, tracing his tattoos and leaning in to kiss them, “I always loved these so much,” you whisper. 

He cups the back of your head and looks down at you with a smile on his face. He knows that you can feel his heart beating strongly in his chest, he knows that you finally know how much he loves you. 

You kiss him softly, whispering praises to him that make his knees grow weaker– only you could make him feel that way. 

You kiss your way up to his neck, pushing his hair back, his eyes flutter closed when you attach your lips to the sensitive spot on his skin, “mine,” you whisper as you mark him up the way he did to you. Your hand moves down his stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath, “you’re mine.” 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, pulling your almost naked chest tightly against his, “I’m yours,” he nods with a smile, “I always wanted to be yours.” 

A moan falls from his lips when you continue to kiss him as you place your palm against his erection, palming him over his jeans. 

He slips his hands down to your pants, unbuttoning them quickly. He wants you so bad, he wants to taste you, he wants to hear your moans, he wants to make you feel good. You try to kiss your way down his chest but he pushes you back against the mattress, pinning your wrists against the bed. 

“Eddie,” you whine.

“This is about you, sweet girl,” he says, giving you a cocky grin when he pulls back to take your pretty lacy bra off, his mouth waters at the sight of your naked chest, he can’t even help but lean down to suck on your nipple. 

“E-Eddie,” you whimper as you reach down to grab his hair. 

“You’re so beautiful, fuck,” he mumbles as he continues to suck on your nipple while his other hand grabs at your other boob, “my sexy little rockstar.” 

“P-Please.”

Your begs and moans just make him more desperate. You tug on his hair and stare at him with big and pleading eyes. 

He takes your pants along with your underwear off. You grow flustered, your cheeks heat up as you stare at him. He has seen you like this before when he touched you on the tour bus or the few times in hotel rooms but never like this, you were never fully bare in front of him, you have never gone all the way with him and it makes you nervous but also excited. This is so much more intimate than what you have done before. 

“Fuck,” he curses, staring down at you in awe. The light of the little night lamp illuminates the room just enough for him to see you, your skin looks so soft and smooth and he can’t help but want to kiss every inch of your body, make you feel so loved that you will never doubt him and his love for you again. Your eyes are almost black, pupils so dilated that every color in them is mostly gone, you look at him just the way he looks at you– with nothing but love in your eyes. Eddie wants to freeze this moment, he takes in the sight of you, admiring you and falling more and more in love with you. He leans down, grabbing your thighs, he gently lifts them and places your legs on his shoulders. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening pussy. He kisses your inner thighs softly, slowly, making you whine in response, soft whispers leaving your lips as you reach down to grab his hair, ‘please, please, please.’ You are begging to be touched by no one but him. He savors this moment as though it’s the only one he will get with you. 

His eyes meet yours when he looks up at you through his bangs, his heart flutters when you furrow your brows and stare at him pleadingly. How could he keep you waiting any longer? He licks his lips before he finally tastes you. He licks a stripe up your pussy, making you moan in pleasure and him at your sweetness. 

“O-Oh Eddie.”

His stomach flutters at the sound of your moan and at the way you said his name. He repeats the same motion, making you whine more desperately. His nose nudges against your clit when he slips his tongue into your dripping hole– “mhmm baby, you taste so fucking sweet,” he moans against you, already feeling his addiction growing. 

You buck your hips up, a filthy moan leaves your lips. You don’t know whether to grip his hair or the sheets beneath you– you opt for the sheets, not wanting to hurt him. You shut your legs around his head, squeezing him in, which for some reason makes him moan. You look down at him, watching the way he gets more and more desperate as he devours you. 

He grabs your ass, lifting you up a little as he buries his face further into your pussy, moaning and whimpering against you. He loves it, he loves you. 

You can’t even form a single sentence, you can’t open your mouth to speak the way you usually would, all you can do is moan in pleasure and watch your lover eat you out with so much desperation that it already brings you closer to the edge. 

He slips his fingers into you, stretching you open for his cock. His tongue finds your clit as his eyes lock with yours yet again, “keep your eyes open, look at me, baby,” he whispers when he sees your eyes fluttering. 

“Mhmm,” you nod. 

Your stomach tenses, your walls flutter around his fingers, your back arches when he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. You both moan and keep looking into each other’s eyes. Neither of you need any words right now, you can see what the other thinks, you can feel it. 

It doesn’t take him long to make you come undone, to make your body shake with pleasure, to make your eyes tear up from the intensity of his touch. He laps up all your sweetness with moans and whimpers before he kisses his way back up to you, connecting his lips with yours again, he kisses you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

Your thighs are shaking, your heart is racing. You place your hands on his neck and try to push his jeans down with your feet, getting more desperate to feel him inside of you. He tries to get rid of them without breaking the kiss, pushing his pants and his boxers down hastily. 

“Shit,” he mumbles as he breaks the kiss when it turns out to be a struggle to keep kissing you while taking his pants off. 

You giggle, reaching down to help him take them off. His erection slaps against his stomach when he finally rid himself of his remaining clothes. Your lips part, mouth watering at the sight of him, fully bare on top of you. You wrap your hand around his length and look into his darkened eyes when you begin to stroke him. 

He moans your name so prettily, it makes you clench around nothing. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes flutter closed for a moment. The feeling of your hand, pleasuring him makes him feel so special but he is close, so close already. Tasting you, making you feel good brought him to the edge already. 

He opens his eyes, reaching for your hands, he grabs them gently and intertwines your fingers with his before he pins your hands against the sheets beneath you. 

“I need to feel you,” he whispers, pressing a loving kiss to your lips, “I’ve wanted this for so long, I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid my eyes on you, sweetheart” he whispers as he slowly lets go of one hand, guiding it down your body, he traces your skin with his fingers before he wraps his hand around his dick to slide it through your wet folds, making you both moan at the feeling. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer against you. He teases you with his leaking tip, pressing it against your aching clit. 

“P-Please baby,” you whisper. 

He keeps his forehead pressed to yours, gazing into your eyes, his lips tug into a sweet smile, “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips when he finally pushes inside of you for the very first time. He gasps at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him as he slowly inches into you. An overwhelming feeling rushes through him, his senses are heightened. He feels you everywhere, he feels you, he feels your touch so intensely. Your legs squeeze around his waist, your free hand claws at his back, your lips are so gently against his, your breaths mix together as you stare into each other’s eyes with love and desperation, emotions that have been hid for so long finally appear in both your eyes. 

Eddie feels you in his heart, he feels you in his soul. God, he loves you. 

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers against your lips as he pushes in even deeper, making both his stomach and his heart flutter with happiness, “you are my everything.”

You want him closer and closer, deeper and deeper. You kiss him passionately, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of his cock splitting you open. His hot naked chest is pressed against yours, you can feel his heart racing, you can feel him breathing heavily against you, you can feel him twitching inside of you. You can feel him. He is in your heart and in your soul, he has been from the very beginning.

“I love you, Eddie,” you mumble against his lips, “I love you so much.”

His eyes tear up at your words, at the emotions behind them. His hands connect with yours again, he looks deeply into your eyes, letting you see the tears that are burning inside of his. Once again, he intertwines your fingers together, allowing himself to look at you before he starts moving. 

Eddie often thinks about the night at the beach, how much it changed him, how much he realized when he sat across from you and listened to you talk about love as you sat on the sand, beneath the stars.

“D-Do you think that your second love can also be your third?” he asks with a sliver of hope in his eyes.

“Uh– if the betrayal wasn’t too bad and if both healed then yes, I think that your second love can also be your third love."

He thought that you would be his second love but he wasn’t aware that you were his first, his second and his third love– his only love, his true love. He didn’t understand what it truly was, not until then, not until he lost you and realized just how much you mean to him, just how much he loves you, how much he would do for you. There is no him without you. You stepped into his life and he knew that he would do anything for you. 

He will look for you in every lifetime, he will find you in every single one of them because you and him, you belong together. 

As he feels your hot breath on his lips, as he feels your heart beating in your chest, your hand clinging to his as you push yourself closer against him so you can feel him even closer, he falls even more in love. 

Eddie kisses you so deeply that it takes your breath away. A tear rolls down his cheek, mingling into the kiss, you both taste the saltiness as your tongues meet. Eddie starts moving, bottoming out before he pushes back inside of you without breaking the kiss. 

All the torture, all the pain is finally over. He has you and you have him and now you can finally let the light in, build your life together and live the way you always wanted to; together. 

“You feel so good, baby.”

His moans make you clench around him even more, your chest rises up and down heavier as your breathing becomes uneven. 

“Y-You too, Eddie, you feel so good inside of me,” you whimper softly. His glassy eyes show nothing but love, pleasure and desperation, “want you like this forever.”

“Me too, darling,” he whimpers against your lips, “you’re my forever.” 

He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your chest, your neck, everything. His thrusts get deeper, more desperate. Your moans become louder, just like his. He grabs your tits, your ass, pulling you closer and closer against him, wanting to feel you more. He can’t get enough of you. 

You squeeze your legs around his waist, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts, he is deep, so deep inside of you that you can feel him in your stomach. He hits that spot perfectly, making stars appear in your vision. You are dripping down onto the sheets, your walls flutter around him. 

The room is filled with heavy breaths and desperate moans as he makes love to you. 

He presses his fingertips against your clit, rubbing it in circles, “are you close, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you whimper as you squeeze around him, making him moan louder in response as he clings to your body with such desperation that it’s enough to heal all the opens in your body, “are you?”

“Yes– fuck, yes.” 

“Cum with me, Eddie, please,” you plead as you pull him in deeper, if that’s even possible, “cum inside of me.”

His eyes widen a little, lips parting and heart skipping a beat. 

“Fuck.. okay, baby, okay,” he whimpers as he thrusts deeper into you, deeper and harder. Stealing both yours and his breath away, he rubs your clit fastly and watches you, he watches the way your face contorts into pleasure, he watches the way you gasp at the feeling as you get tighter around him, he feels the way your stomach clenches, the way you cling to his body because you need him just the way he needs you. 

A feeling that he has never felt before rushes through him, he can’t even describe it, he can’t put it into words but it feels so good and he knows that it’s because of you. 

“I love you,” he whimpers against your lips as you both cum together, “I love you, y/n.” He spills inside of you just as you gush around his cock. 

Your bodies are both shaking, you cling to each other, holding each other as your lips meet for the millionth time this night. Your hearts beat in sync, your lips move more softly and slowly against each other unlike before. His thrusts slow down before he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you though.

When you part from the kiss, you cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears that have fallen from his eyes, kissing his cheeks and his forehead, “you’re my pretty boy.”

He smiles at you, leaning into your touch, “and you’re my pretty girl.”

For a moment, you just admire each other, enjoying the feeling of the closeness you are feeling as he is still inside of you. His gaze softens even more, he traces your skin, your nose, your lips, your cheek. 

“Be my girl.”

“I was always your girl, Eddie.”

He smiles, “I mean, be my girlfriend, be mine.”

“Only if you will be my boyfriend.” 

He twitches inside of you at your words, causing you to laugh. He squeezes his eyes shut, cheeks growing red as he groans, burying his face in your neck, “don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” you giggle, “you’re cute.”

“The thought of being your boyfriend makes me hard again.”

You laugh again, he bites your neck playfully and flips you over so his back is flat against the mattress while you lie on top of him. He smiles when you cling to him, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “so, will you be my girlfriend, like for real?”

You giggle and nod as your eyes flicker with happiness, “yes.” 

His eyes light up, his heart skips a beat, joy and peace settle inside of his chest. 

“R-Really?” 

You nod and wrap your arms around him, “yes, really,” you whisper as you kiss his lips, “will you be my boyfriend?” 

His eyes well up with tears and he smiles widely, “is that even a question?” He asks before he kisses you again, “I’m your boyfriend and you are my girlfriend,” he says as he strokes your cheek, admiring you with a soft look in his eyes, “it’s all I ever wanted.”

“Me too,” you smile. 

Eddie pulls you tightly against him, he kisses your forehead and plays with your hair. He thinks back to all the moments when he thought that he had lost you and how they don’t matter anymore because you are here, with him, in his arms, where you belong and when he wakes up the next morning, you are still here, snuggled up to him, holding onto him tightly as if you are afraid to lose him, even in your sleep. 

It’s the best sleep he had gotten in a while. For the first time, he wakes with a peaceful feeling, a smile tugs at his lips as he stares down at you. The sun is shining, the light lays softly on you. You are so beautiful. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and strokes your bare skin, kissing your shoulder. You greet him with a smile that morning, a glint in your eyes that has been missing for a long time– it’s finally back again, he’s got his girl back. He knows that everything will be okay now. You got each other back and everything that happened, doesn’t matter any longer and everything that will happen, will only push you closer and closer. You will get through everything, together, side by side. 

You kiss each other and whisper a soft, ‘hi,’ before you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Kissing him there. 

“Good morning, girlfriend,” he smiles, squeezing your naked waist. 

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you giggle. 

Your giggle, your smile, your voice, your beautiful face drives him crazy. He adores you. He is so in love with you. 

“How did you sleep?” You mumble into his neck.

“Good, it was the best sleep of my life,” he grins, “how about you? How are you feeling?” He asks, knowing how sick you feel in the mornings. 

You pull back and look at him, furrowing your brows as you look off into the distance. He can’t help but smile at the cute frown on your face. 

“I-I feel good.”

“You do?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you smile, nodding, “I feel good.” 

Your mom’s words no longer matter, the articles and the paparazzi no longer matter, all that happened before, doesn’t matter. 

Eddie loves you and he proved it when he took care of you all this time, when he was there for you when you weren’t feeling good, when he protected you and stood by you when all those horrible things went down, when he promised to raise a child with you that he thought was yours and Steve’s, he promised it last night when he touched and kissed you, when he made love to you for the first time.

He is here and he loves you and he is yours, that’s all that matters. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“For what?” He asks, his brows draw together. 

“For everything,” you say and kiss his lips, “for taking care of me, for being there, for loving me.”

He sees the look in your eyes, he knows that your mother must have said some awful things to you, ones that made you doubt everything but his actions, his words, his love for you proved you otherwise. 

“I should be the one thanking you, sweetheart,” he whispers as he grabs your chin, “I messed up pretty bad–”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” you mumble, interrupting him, “we’re together now, that’s all that matters, right?”

“yes baby,” he nods, smiling, “it’s you and I, and nothing else matters.”

A smile pulls at your lips as you stare at him, at his twinkling eyes, at his messy curls. Your fingers trace his tattoos, your lips find his, the urge to take care of him pushes you to kiss down his chest. His breath hitches in his throat when he watches you kiss down his body, he places his hand on the top of your head, watching you push the sheets off of him, “w-what are you doing, baby?” 

“‘M gonna take care of you, pretty boy,” you whisper as you look at him through hooded eyes, “you took such good care of me, I wanna do the same for you.”

Blood rushes to his cock when you get closer to his dick, you lick his happy trail, smirking at the gasp that fell from his lips.

“S-Shit,” he whimpers, fingers grasping your hair, “please baby,” he moans. 

You keep your eyes on him as you wrap your hand around his cock, licking the underside of it, you moan. 

His eyes widen at your action, pushing himself up to his elbows, he stares at you with big eyes, “h-holy fuck.”

“You have such a pretty cock, Eddie,” you smirk as you repeat the same motion before you start off with kitten licks, teasing his tip with your tongue before you spit down on him and stroke him a little, enjoying his moans and pleads, “keep moaning like that for me, Eddie. I love it,” you murmur before you take him into your mouth. 

“O-Oh baby!” Eddie gasps at the feeling, he pulls at your hair and moans filthily, “y-you’re f-fuck… so– Ah!” He gasps again when you gently play with his balls and take him even deeper as you hollow your cheeks. His stomach clenches and his hips buck up a little, making you choke on his cock when it hits the back of you throat, his eyes widen, “s-shit, I’m sorry– Oh..” He moans when you suck harder and look up at him with big and glassy eyes. “Y-You have a filthy mouth, sweetheart,” he gasps. You moan– you fucking moan as you suck him off desperately and when he pulls your hair harder, you moan louder and arch your back. It only makes you act rougher, you swirl your tongue around him, drool slips down your jaw as you suck him off harder, “j-jesus christ,” he whimpers, he breathes heavier and heavier. 

You jerk him off where your mouth can’t reach him, you hollow your cheeks, moans and whimpers vibrate against him. 

“Y/n, baby,” he whines, looking down at you with awe and pleasure in his eyes. No one had ever made him feel this way, no one has ever touched him with so much want and need, with so much love and pleasure, “you’re such a good girl for me,” he breathes as he strokes your hair, “making me feel so good, shit– I love you.” 

“Mmm,” you moan around him, going faster when you feel him twitching inside of your mouth. You know he is close, a look into his eyes, a loud moan and your hands on his balls as you suck his dick with desperation is enough, he grips your hair tightly and looks into your eyes giving you a warning look– not sure if you want him to cum inside your mouth but when you give him a desperate look and hollow your cheeks even more, he knows you want it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” He whines, barely able to keep his eyes open but he wants to see you, he wants to watch you. 

Seeing him that way, falling apart for you, arching his back in pleasure because of you, whining and moaning, seeing his cheeks grow red and hearing him say your name, brings you so much pleasure. His hair is messy, his dark eyes look down at you pleadingly, his lips are parted, whimpers falling from them when he cums inside of your mouth. 

You close your eyes, moaning as you swallow it all before you release him with a pop!

Eddie is gasping for air, breathing heavily and staring at you with a shocked look on his face, his heart is beating in his chest, he is sure that it’s about to explode, “holy shit! I think you sucked my soul out.”

You giggle, crawling on top of him, you straddle his waist and place your hands on his chest, wiping your slick chin. 

He stares up at you in awe, placing his hands on your thighs, “you’re not real,” he whispers as eyes your naked body, “you are too good to be real.”

Your whole face lights up, a smile appears on your face, one that makes his heart beat faster, “I’m very real,” you whisper as you lean down to kiss his cheek. 

“Very real and all mine,” he smiles. 

“All yours,” you whisper and snuggle against his chest, “do you wanna take a shower with me?”

“Can I eat you out in the shower?” 

“Sure.”

“Okay, let’s go,” he chuckles, happily.

-

“Where are they?” 

“Maybe she’s feeling sick again.” 

“Or maybe they’re fighting–”

“In the sheets?” Gareth wiggles his brows at Johnny, causing him to laugh. 

He shakes his head, “nah, not in the sheets, man. Eddie was pissed last night when they left the bar.” 

“Nothing that some angry fucking can’t fix,” Gareth laughs, “they’ve been awfully clingy lately, especially Eddie.” 

“Probably because he’s jealous of Steve,” Johnny says as he sips on his coffee. 

Jeff stares off into the distance, picking at his fruit as he waits for you and Eddie to join the three at them for breakfast. 

“I thought so too but then they left the hotel room together after new years–”

“Because Robin hooked up with y/n’s friend and Steve couldn’t stay with them.”

Gareth shakes his head and bites into his bagel, “nah, I bet they all fucked.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

Gareth shrugs as he continues to scarf down his food the way he always does at the breakfast buffets, “well, I think y/n and Eddie are finally getting down to business,” he laughs. 

Jeff raises his eyebrows when he sees you and Eddie walking in, not minding the staff or the people around you as you kiss each other before you pull away, only to kiss again. A smile takes over his face. 

“You know what? I think you might be right this time.”

The other two men raise their brows, following Jeff’s gaze to where you and Eddie are standing. You are pouring yourself a coffee into a mug as he stands behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, kissing your cheek. 

“Oh my god,” Gareth grins, “fucking finally! These two have caused me so much emotional stress.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head at his friend, “you’re such a drama queen.”

“Who is a drama queen?” Eddie asks as the two of you join them, he pulls the chair back for you, winking at you when you give him a cheeky smile as you sit down. 

“Gareth,” Jeff says as he looks down at Eddie’s neck, which is covered in hickeys, a grin appears on his face. Eddie’s eyes are filled with nothing but happiness. He looks over at you, you were better at hiding the marks on your neck, still they peek out from beneath your shirt. You look relaxed, rested and at peace– for the first time in a while. Your lips are pulled into a smile, your skin is glowing and you look happy. Jeff smiles to himself. Finally, he thinks to himself. 

You and Eddie intertwine your fingers together, flashing each other a smile. You are together. They don’t have to ask to know. You both seem happier than you have ever been before and they can’t help but feel happy for you as well. 

-

Months of touring through the country were now over, you’ve seen so many cities you haven’t been in before, met the most amazing people when you visited the hometown of your friends and bandmates. You and Eddie have grown together, you have lost each other for a moment but found your way back to one another. You don’t dwell too much on the bad things, you focus on the good, on the future that you have with Eddie and with the band. 

After a long talk with Sam and Rob, you have agreed on taking a small break after Jeff broke the news to everyone, revealing the secret that he and Wren have been hiding for a while. He was going to be a dad. And while Gareth was freaking out, he couldn’t help but be happy to become an uncle. 

You and Eddie have started to work on your next album, despite the agreement that you would be taking a break, you couldn’t help but write songs together, you are inspired by each other– you are each other’s muse. And as each day passes, you fall more and more in love with each other, surprising yourselves with the intensity of your feelings. 

Who would’ve known that you could love someone so much? 

Eddie’s love for you is something out of this world. You were always a romantic and believed in true love and one that you would only ever read about in books but Eddie loves you even more than that. His love for you cannot be put into words, just like your love for him can’t be put into words. 

And it never changes, it never fades away, it never becomes weaker, if anything it becomes stronger. 

A few months later, you wear a shiny ring on your finger, one that you haven’t taken off ever since Eddie had proposed to you on a summer night at the beach that you had taken him to a year prior to the proposal. Eddie had taken you to the karaoke bar first where you first met before he nervously took you to your spot on the beach and got down on one knee to ask you to marry him. You both cried and smiled in happiness, fantasizing every night about your wedding ever since as you laid in your shared bed in your new house. 

Eddie watches you with big and soft eyes, his lips are parted, a warm feeling spreads across his whole body as he stares at you. He doesn’t even hear Jeff’s words or Lucas as he laughs at Jeff’s jokes. All he sees is you holding Jeff and Wren’s newborn. 

He leaves the conversation, walking over to you with a soft smile on his lips. You are watching the little boy with awe in your eyes as he lays on your lap, you coo at him when he yawns and stretches his tiny body. Your smile widens when you lock eyes with your fiance. 

Eddie sits down next to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “having fun?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod, “look at him, he’s the cutest.”

Eddie’s eyes soften, he looks at the tiny little human in your arms and he can’t help but imagine one of your own– he wonders what they would look like, would they have your eyes or his? He hopes they will get your pretty eyes. “Hmm, he looks like a little Jeff with the big head.” 

You gasp but you can’t help but laugh, “Eddie!” 

The little boy scrunches his face up, making a funny nose. You frown, taking his tiny hands, “shh, you don’t have a big head, little one.”

Eddie chuckles, his heart flutters in his chest when you kiss the tiny hands. 

“C-Can I hold him?” 

You turn to look at him, smiling at his question, “of course,” you say, though you aren’t sure if you are prepared to see him with a baby in his arms. Still, you carefully hand him over and even though he had never held a baby in his arms before, he looks like a natural as he takes the little boy into his arms. Eddie leans back against the couch and holds the little boy against his chest, he snuggles against his chest. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you stare at them both, “look at you, you’re a natural.” 

Eddie can’t help but smile. 

“He likes you.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder and gaze up at him, your stomach flutters. You love seeing him like this, with a baby in his arms and a happy smile on his face. Eddie turns to you, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, “yeah? I like him too,” he chuckles, his large hand makes the newborn look even smaller. He looks down at you, at the way you snuggle up to him and reach for the tiny little hand that grasps your finger tightly. Eddie’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, watching the way you smile with a flash with adoration in your eyes. Eddie wraps his free arm around you, holding the two of you. 

You both giggle and coo at him when he stretches again. Neither of you hear the flash of the camera going off, you are too busy admiring the baby–well you are, Eddie is admiring you.

“I can’t wait to have one of our own,” he whispers, squeezing your arm. 

Your eyes soften, heart skipping a beat as you look back into his eyes, “really?” 

He nods, “yeah, I’d have one with you right away,” Eddie says with a blush on his face. 

Grinning, you cup the back of his neck and pull him down, pecking his lips which makes him smile at you. 

“What about the second album and the tour?” 

He frowns, shrugging, “baby on tour, sweetheart,” he smirks, “we’ll raise a little rockstar.” 

You snort at his words, “I’m not gonna be a stay at home mom while you tour the world and get to be around all these pretty groupies while I–” He cuts you off with another kiss, “I don’t care about them, you know that,” he mumbles, frowning at you, “and I’d be willing to be a stay at home dad if you wanted to continue touring.”

“Seriously?” You gasp.

He nods, smiling, “mhmm, mom gets to be a rockstar and dad is a cool retired rockstar,” he says laughing.

You shake your head at him, laughing. 

“No, we should just do another album, another tour and then we should both be stay at home parents,” you shrug. 

You don’t ever want to be away from him, not even for a single day and he feels the same, he wants you by his side, all the time. 

“I like that,” he smiles. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm, we should start practicing though,” he smirks, wiggling his brows. 

“Like we aren’t practicing all day to make you a daddy,” you giggle. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans as his eyes widen, “you make me wanna bend you–”

“Not in front of the baby!” Lucas says as he holds his own hands over his ears. Max shakes her head at her boyfriend, snorting at him, “which baby are you talking about, you or the actual baby?” She rolls her eyes. 

He tilts his head, glaring at her, “I’m talking about little Olaf.” 

You and Eddie start laughing. 

“His name is Oliver!” Wren calls from the kitchen. 

Lucas shrugs as he looks down at Oliver, “I like Olaf more.”

“You are so weird,” Max mumbles before she looks back at you and Eddie. A small smile tugging at her lips, “you’d be cool parents.”

“I agree,” Eddie smirks as he looks down at you with a suggestive look in his eyes that tells you, ‘let’s go home right now.’ Which you end up doing, unable to say no to him and his puppy eyes.

The night ends the way it always does, with you both naked, tangled in the sheets, unable to get enough of each other. No matter how rough or desperate he is with you, he never fails to show you how much he loves you. He always takes care of you, he always makes sure that you are feeling good and you do the same for him, you take care of each other. 

It usually never takes you long to fall asleep in his arms but that night, you lie awake and watch him sleep– not knowing that that’s what he usually does. You run your fingers through his curls and trace his tattoos. The warm feeling inside your chest, the one that he gave you from the start, never faded away, the feeling of safety he gave you even in the worst times, never left, it’s here and it’s stronger than ever just like his love for you. 

Eddie makes you feel strong and brave, something that you have never really felt like before. It gives you the courage to do something you have been so afraid of all these years. You lean in to kiss his cheek before you carefully push the sheets off of your body, reaching for your panties and his shirt, you put them on before you open the drawer on your bedside table. Instantly, letting your eyes fall on the letter you kept carrying around with you wherever you went. You take it out, holding it against your chest, you look back at him one more time before you get up and walk out onto your little balcony. 

You walk over to the railing and take the moment to look up into the starlit sky, the moon shines brightly, making everything appear much later than usual. The crickets chirping, the soft wind touches your bare skin. 

You take deep breaths before you look down at the letter nervously. With shaky hands, you open the envelope and before you hesitate or decide against it, you pick the letter out and open it. Unfolding it. You instantly tear up when you read the first words. 

To my little girl,

Why were you ever afraid to open it? Why were you ever afraid to read the words your dad had written to you? You know that he loved you. You know that he would never say anything cruel to you. Yet, your evil mind convinced you that he left because you were simply too much. 

You blink the tears away and take another deep breath, holding the letter with your shaky hands. 

I’m sorry about what happened, I’m sorry that I left you. I’m sorry that I can’t be there the way you have always been there with me. I want you to know that you are the only thing that kept me here for so long, my little sunshine. Getting to be a dad, getting to be your dad was the best thing that could ever happen to me, watching you grow up and grow into this amazing girl that you are now was worth all the pain in this world. 

Yesterday, you showed me the song that you wrote, you played it on the guitar that used to be mine and I saw the happiness in your eyes, the passion and the love you have found for music when you sang and played it for me and I knew that you had already found a place in this world. I know that you will make it far, further than I did. You will get everything you have ever dreamed of. I might not be there to see it but I know that you will be up on the big stages, singing to the people that love you. 

Don’t let anything stop you, not pain, not heartbreak, not grief. Don’t let the things that destroy you from hoping for something better, don’t close yourself off because you are afraid of love. Sometimes it hurts so badly that you don’t know how to keep going but you will heal, I know you will. You are strong and brave and I know that you will beat this world and the pain that is out there. 

I am proud of you and for who you have become already, my sweet girl. I wish I got to see you grow up, I wish I got to see you become the rockstar that you already are, I wish I got to see you fall in love with someone amazing, I wish I got to walk you down the aisle. I wish I got to hold you one more time. But I want you to know that I’m here, I’m with you every step of the way and I’m proud of you, I am so proud of you, y/n.

There is someone out there who will love you unconditionally, someone who will make you happy and lay the world, the universe at your feet and don’t you ever forget this, you will be loved.

Goodbye, my sweet girl.

Your tears are staining the white paper, smudging the black ink, you cry silently, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Your heart is aching but to know what he had said to you, finally brings you the peace that you always needed. To know that your dad was proud of you, that he loved you before he left this world sets you free and gives you the comfort that you have needed ever since the night you lost him. 

You will be loved. That’s what he always said to you but you struggled to believe it after he died. 

But then Eddie came along and he loves you, he loves you the way your dad said he would. Eddie loves you unconditionally, he gave you his heart. 

You fold the paper and put it back into the envelope, placing it on the small table, you wipe your tears and look up into the night sky. 

“Goodbye dad,” you whisper for the first time. A fallen star appears in the sky and a gentle breeze touches your cheek. A sad smile appears on your face. For a moment, you just stand there and look up into the sky. 

Gentle hands tug at your waist, pulling you into the warm chest of your lover, “where’d you go, sweetheart?” Eddie whispers as he hugs you softly from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “I can’t sleep without you.”

You place your hands on his forearms and lean back, laying your head on his bare chest, you turn your head to look at him, taking in the sight of his messy hair and tired eyes. Cute. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss his jaw. 

He frowns, eyes saddening when he notices the look on your face, he knows that you have been crying, instantly, he cups your cheeks and eyes you with a concerned look in his eyes, “w-what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you smile, leaning into his touch, “I’m just happy,” you whisper. 

He smiles at your words, he turns you around, looking at you with love in his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

You smile at each other, stealing more kisses from one another before you lay your head on his chest, sighing at the feeling of his warm hug. He kisses the top of your head, “I’m the luckiest man alive.” 

“And I’m the luckiest girl alive,” you giggle. 

He chuckles, unable to fight the smile off his lips, “I think I have a name for our new album.”

“Really? What is it?” You ask as you lay your chin on his chest and gaze up at him. 

He can’t help but kiss you again before he whispers, “we’ll burn the sky.” 

-

Y/n rubbed her boyfriend Tom’s shoulders as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She knew he was stressing out over the recent safety concerns that had arisen for the couple. Y/n knew that Tom would handle it; even before the multiple promises he made to do so. But, she still wanted to wipe the frown off his face as he called his security team.

They had recently been made aware that there was an… overzealous fan of Tom’s that posed a risk to the couple’s safety. Tom’s brother and personal assistant Harry, had noticed someone was following them one afternoon. They contacted Tom’s security team immediately and had them look into it.

Allegedly, when the security personnel asked the fan to stop following the couple, things escalated. The fan had made numerous comments that concerned Tom’s security. The first was the fan’s statement on how they were Tom’s one true love; not y/n. The second was when the same fan commented that y/n needed to learn her place and stay away from Tom. Then of course came the standard stalkerish fan remarks such as claiming she knew where the couple had been at any given moment, that she had a shrine of Tom with photos that no one else had seen as she’d taken them herself, and that she was in love with Tom and knew he’d come around and choose her.

It wasn’t like Tom had no former experience with overzealous fans. But this was on a whole other level. The fact that this fan made his own security concerned for y/n, made Tom panic. Between his team's and his own suggestions, Tom had ensured that they always had at least two security guards with them.

Tom felt guilty for having to limit their privacy even more than normal when going on dates, or whenever they simply left the house. But, he refused to let something happen to y/n. Which was why he had to call his security team again today.

Earlier today Y/n had gotten a call from an unknown number. She always ignored calls from unknown numbers. As such, y/n had let the call go to voicemail. However, when she checked her voicemail, y/n felt the same panic Tom had been experiencing.

The fan who Tom had been worried about for several weeks by then had somehow found y/n’s personal phone number. Y/n knew it wasn’t super rare for celebrities and their friends and family to have their personal information leaked. But, the message that the fan left was very troubling.

The girl had threatened to harm y/n if she didn’t break up with Tom. She even went so far as to show she had the address of y/n’s work; as ‘proof to take her seriously’. The fan also had the address of y/n’s last residence. Y/n and Tom began living together months ago. But, technically y/n’s old apartment was still in her name as the lease wasn’t up for another month and a half.

When y/n told Tom about the voicemail, he immediately asked her to play it for him. His fury and fear skyrocketed as he heard the passion behind the fan’s voice. He couldn’t believe this was happening to begin with, much less to this extent. Tom was adamant something had to be done, starting with calling his security and demanding increased protection for y/n.

“We need to increase y/n’s security,” Tom ordered immediately upon his lead security officer answering his call. He felt y/n rest her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm to try and calm him. Tom crooked his neck and placed a soft kiss to y/n’s head as he listened to his security guard’s response.

“No, you don’t understand,” Tom groaned, standing up from the couch. He began pacing their living room as he tried to keep himself in check. He couldn’t understand why his security wasn’t just listening to him. Y/n needed more security, immediately. “I’m going to send you something,” Tom said, pulling the phone from his ear just long enough to forward the threatening voicemail.

“Tommy,” y/n whispered as Tom put the phone back up to his ear as he waited on a response. She smiled warmly at him when he looked her way. Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “breathe please”.

Tom nodded in response to y/n’s request. He took a few deep breaths as he faintly heard the voicemail being played in the background. Tom hummed as he heard his security guard call for another officer to look into the voicemail. “See?” Tom asked in frustration, “she needs more security”.

Y/n watched as Tom nodded along to whatever his security was suggesting. She sighed in relief at seeing his lessening worry. She didn’t know what they were telling Tom, but it was helping. Y/n kissed Tom’s neck right under his earlobe as she waited for him to end the call and update her.

“Tom, look, I know you’re worried, but-” y/n sighed. Tom wanted her to not go in to work today. To be fair, it was a suggestion from his security when he called them last night, but Tom jumped on board with the idea without hesitation.

Tom frowned. “You’re not going to stay home?” He asked, his voice sad and eyes worried. “Please?” Tom requested, squeezing y/n’s hand.

Y/n pursed her lips. “I have work, T,” she argued softly.

“I know,” Tom agreed. “And I’m sorry, I dragged you into this -".

Y/n shook her head, “no. This isn’t on you Tom. I’ve told you that”. She sighed, “but, that doesn’t mean I can just stay stuck at home all day every day until this...overzealous fan chills out”.

“Overzealous?!” Tom huffed. “Darling, she’s bloody crazy!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t some slightly obsessed fan, she’s insane and she wants to hurt you.”

Y/n bit her lip and nodded. He was right. The voicemail had truly scared her. And she knew Tom knew that. Even if he hadn’t already been protective before, he certainly would’ve become so upon seeing how much it freaked her out.

“Just for today?” Tom pleaded. “I’m already working on a more long-term solution,” he assured her.

Y/n sighed softly as she thought it over. She didn’t have a ton to do at work today, so perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Okay, if it will make you happy, I’ll stay home today,” she accepted.

Tom grinned and pulled y/n in for a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he gushed. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’ll try to come home for lunch, and-" Tom rambled.

Y/n giggled. She rubbed Tom’s chest as she leaned back. “Handsome, you don’t need to do that,” she smiled. “Just focus on your scenes and rest between them, we both know you haven’t been doing that much. Hmm?”.

Tom nodded, he’d been spending most of his time between takes and scenes getting on his security about finding out who this crazy fan was and doing whatever was needed to stop them. “Okay, but,” he replied, smiling, “I’m still going to call during my lunch and check-up”.

Y/n hummed lovingly, stroking Tom’s cheeks tenderly. “You have a deal, sweetheart.”

“Okay, so, you’ll arm the security system after I leave?” Tom asked y/n.

Y/n nodded, “yes”.

“And, you have Jones’s number saved, right?” Tom wondered as he mentally made his way through his checklist. Jones was one of his security guards and Tom had requested that he be on call nearby in case something happened. Or if y/n simply felt scared that it could/would.

“Saved and set as a favorite for easy access,” y/n promised. She neared her boyfriend and set her hands on his shoulders. “Everything is in place honey.”

Tom took a shaky breath and nodded. He really didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had to go to set. He was nearly done with filming and then they’d be able to go wherever. Y/n had reminded him of that when he considered taking the day off. The sooner he was done, the sooner they could go back to Europe -for at least as long as it took until the fan was taken care of.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious about y/n being home alone. But, at his security pointed out, the fan had given the address for y/n’s old apartment, her job, and has been seen on set before. This was the safest place for her. As far as they are aware, there was no reason to believe the fan has knowledge of this apartment nor that y/n and Tom even lived together.

“I’m just…” Tom sighed. He knew he was going overboard in his preparations. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to know y/n would be safe.

Y/n gave Tom a quick kiss. “Worried, sweet, adorable, I know,” she grinned. “But you’re also about to be late,” y/n giggled playfully. “So, go, get there safely, kick ass on your scenes, and we’ll talk at lunch?”

Tom smiled and nodded, holding y/n to his chest for another hug. “Alright love, I’ll call you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too,” y/n said. She pulled back from the hug and kissed Tom’s forehead. “Let me know when you get to set,” she added as Tom made his way to his car. Y/n waved goodbye before she closed the door.

Y/n quickly armed the security system. She sighed to herself before looking around as she tried to decide what to do on her unplanned day off. Y/n walked to the bedroom to change into pajamas and grab some large and comfortable blankets.

When y/n returned to the living room, she found Tom had texted her saying he’d made it to set. She smiled and sent a quick reply before settling herself on their couch. Y/n flicked the television on and scrolled through their digital movies until she landed on Uncharted. She smirked to herself and sent a photo of her movie choice to Tom before she pressed play and relaxed under her blankets.

“You okay?” Harry asked, squinting at his brother. “You seem tense and you keep saying the wrong lines,” he pointed out. Harry was not just Tom’s brother but also his personal assistant and therefore it was his job to see to whatever was bothering him. “What’s going on?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing as he realized he realized he’d just messed up the makeup the crew put on him. “It’s just…” he mumbled, looking around the set before pulling his brother to the side. “You know that crazy fan?” He asked. When Harry nodded, Tom continued. “Well, they get y/n’s number and left her a threatening message”.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is she okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, she was when I left. And, Jones hasn’t reached out to say that’s changed… But, I just…. It’s hard to clear my mind and focus,” Tom admitted.

“I get that mate, but you can’t know what’s going on if you don’t ask,” Harry said. “So, instead of stressing for likely no reason, why don’t you text her between scenes and see what she’s up to?“ he suggested.

Tom smiled and hugged his brother. “That’s a great idea mate, thank you!” He held out his hand and waited for Harry to pass him his phone.

Harry chuckled and quickly took Tom’s phone from his pocket. “Here ya are,” he said with a playful eye roll.

“Oh,” Tom chuckled. He felt his cheeks flush as he looked at the last message from his girlfriend.

“Ewww, if that’s a sext, you need to get better at hiding your reaction,” Harry groaned.

Tom glared at Harry as he shook his head. “No!” He scolded. “Apparently she’s having a movie day…” Tom mumbled bashfully.

“Okay? And…?” Harry questioned.

Tom tilted his phone so Harry could see the text thread. His blush darkened as his brother laughed and shook his head at y/n's choice of movies for the day.

“You two are gross,” Harry teased. “Ready to try this scene again now?” He asked, trying to guide Tom back to set.

Tom smiled to himself. He quickly replied to y/n’s text and passed his phone back to Harry. “Yeah, I am now,” Tom nodded.

Y/n yawned as she rose from the floor. She’d made a blanket fort earlier to watch movies in. But now, her legs were numb and tingly from the position she’d been in. Y/n tiredly made her way to the kitchen for some snacks. While she hadn’t done much today, she was exhausted. It seemed doing nothing let her body realize how tired she’d been lately.

Y/n groaned lightly upon seeing that Tom had left a nearly empty milk carton in the fridge. She had just gotten groceries, not knowing they needed milk since the n carton was still in the fridge. Y/n made a mental note to get more milk tomorrow, or tonight after Tom got home from set. She poured the last of it in her cereal bowl before going to throw the carton away.

Only, as she went to place the carton in the garbage, y/n noticed it was full. She quickly calculated what day it was and realized it was garbage day. Y/n decided to go put on some slippers so she could take the garbage out.

Y/n returned to the kitchen and tied the trash bag closed. She smiled to herself knowing Tom wouldn’t have to deal with taking the bag out tonight when he got home and instead could relax. It was the least she could do since she knew he was worrying about her more than usual today.

Y/n disarmed the security system so that her opening the back door wouldn’t trip the alarm. That was the last thing Tom needed while trying to focus on his job. She was careful though to shut the door behind her and lock it so no one could enter while she was walking to the alley to dispose of the bag. Y/n figured it was overkill, but she knew Tom would be happier knowing she’d done it.

Y/n was sure to be quick with throwing the bag in the can outside. She smiled when she noticed their neighbors’ cans hadn’t been picked up yet; she hadn’t missed pickup. Y/n cautiously looked around before walking back to her apartment.

Y/n felt some anxiety as she unlocked her back door, feeling like someone could sneak up behind her. As a result, she quickly rushed inside and locked it again. Y/n let out a sigh and decided to refocus on her movie day, designating it as a seemingly needed distraction. She grabbed her bowl of sugary cereal with little milk and headed back to her blanket fort in the living room.

Y/n paused the movie, having thought she heard something in the kitchen. She peered into the kitchen doorway from her seat and didn’t see anything. Y/n wanted to go back to her movie, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

Y/n elected it was safest to fully check on the sound she thought she heard. So, she grabbed her phone, pulling up the favorites section of her contacts as she anxiously made her way to the kitchen. She stopped halfway there, realizing she didn’t have anything to protect herself with. Unfortunately, her ideal choice of weapon would be found in the kitchen. Y/n settled for her keys, holding them in her other hand as she resumed her quest to find the source of the sound she’d heard.

A gasp escaped y/n’s mouth as she entered the kitchen. There was a pile of broken glass underneath the back door on the far side of the room. Y/n didn’t see anyone in the room but knew this wasn’t a good sign. She hadn’t been wrong about having heard a sound, nor about the need to check on it. And, considering the broken glass had come not too long after the voicemail incident, y/n was worried they were related.

Y/n didn’t want to take her eyes off the kitchen in case someone appeared, but she suspected she should call Jones. She blindly tried to pull up his number as she stared at the back door. Y/n cautiously walked towards the knife block, hoping to grab a better weapon than her keys. Except, before y/n could get to even the halfway point, someone’s hand reached in through the broken glass on the door and unlocked the handle.

Y/n looked around for an alternative weapon since she was too far from the knife block. But, she quickly ran out of time as the person had flung the door open and entered her apartment. Y/n’s eyes widened and she began to step back. She wanted to run but she didn’t want to aggravate the girl before her. Plus, the safest way to run would be to run outside, but the girl was blocking that door.

The intruder was wearing a homemade Tom Holland shirt, making it even more obvious she was the stalkerish fan. The girl’s hair and makeup was overly done up, as if she was going out on a date or to an event. She was glaring aggressively at y/n as she walked further into the kitchen.

Once y/n sensed she’d backed up enough to make it to the doorway to the living room, she turned and bolted from the kitchen. She scolded herself as she realized her blanket fort in the living room now provided a large obstacle, blocking her from easy access to the front door. Before y/n could decide if she could crash through the mess of blankets and furniture supporting them, she heard the fan’s loud footsteps running after her.

Y/n sharply turned the corner and started to the stairs. She looked down at her phone as she ran, clicking on Jones’ contact. Just as y/n’s finger went to press call, she felt a hand on her ankle. She screeched as she tugged her foot away and tried to stumble up the rest of the stairs.

Y/n kept running up the stairs as the fan angrily screamed her name. She once again tried to call Jones, only this time she tripped on one of Tom’s shoes that had been left on the staircase. In her attempt to not lose her balance and fall down the steps, y/n used her hand to push herself back up. Only, this caused her phone to slip from her hands and tumble down the stairs. Y/n fell to the ground as she turned to grab the device. Except, she wasn’t quick enough.

Y/n silently watched in terror as her lifeline bounced past the crazed fan on the stairs. She froze as she saw the glint of the knife the fan had in her hand. Y/n swallowed thickly and decided her best bet was to try and lock herself in the bathroom and scream; hoping the neighbors would hear and call the police. She quickly stood back up and turned around. “HELP!” Y/n shouted, hoping by chance a window was open.

“I just want to talk!” The fan replied, bouncing up the steps after y/n.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Y/n yelled back, finally mounting the stairs. She rushed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. A painful scratch on the back of her right shoulder caused y/n to stop. Y/n knew instantly from the way there were four simultaneous scratches that the fan had used her acrylic nails to scrape at y/n.

Y/n hissed in pain and spun around to try and fight off the fan. She fortunately still had her keys in her fist. As such, she lunged forward and dug them against the fan’s face. Y/n used the fan’s shock to turn and run the rest of the way to the bathroom.

As y/n tried to shut the bathroom door, she was blocked by the fan’s foot. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shouted, trying to shove the girl’s foot out of the way. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!”

“JUST LET ME TALK!” The fan argued, pushing against the bathroom door.

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” Y/n groaned. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” she asked, slamming the door repeatedly against the fan’s leg as the girl banged on the other side of the bathroom door.

“YOU STOLE MY ONE TRUE LOVE!” the fan screamed, the knife stabbing the door.

Y/n flinched backward as the knife sliced into the thin wooden door separating her from the crazy fan. During y/n’s brief reaction, the fan shoved the door open. Y/n fell backward onto the ground. She shouted again in desperation, praying someone heard her.

The fan stood over y/n with a furious expression. “YOU. STOLE. TOM. FROM. ME.” She seethed, leaning closer to y/n as she was flat on her back against the bathroom floor.

Y/n lifted her arms over her head to shield her face. “GO AWAY!” she shouted, kicking at the fan. Y/n gasped as the fan grabbed ahold of y/n’s hair. She used her keys to scratch the fan’s arm of the hand she was holding y/n with.

“STOP FIGHTING ME!” The fan complained, tugging on y/n’s hair. She used her other hand to try and pry the keys from y/n’s hand.

Y/n stared at the fan in bewilderment. “YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!” She cried, continuing her kicking and scratching. Y/n faintly heard her phone ringing from the other room. She silently pleaded with the universe for it to be Tom checking on her. If it was, she knew he’d send security over if she didn’t answer.

The crazed fan continued to fight with y/n until y/n spat at her in an attempt to get the girl to back up enough for y/n to get off the floor. The fan glared and hissed at y/n. “THAT’S IT!” She shouted, grabbing the knife from where she’d set it on the bathroom counter; out of reach from y/n. She dropped to her knees and placed the blade against y/n’s throat.

Y/n gulped as terror shot though every fiber of her being. She could keep using her keys, especially now that the girl was close enough for y/n to jab them into her eyes. Only, the knife against her throat made y/n worry the fan wouldn’t hesitate to push the blade into her as a response to such an attempt.

“Drop it, or I’ll make you regret it,” The fan threatened. She smirked when y/n shakingly let go of the keys.

“Okay…” y/n mumbled, wincing as her neck grazed against the knife’s blade as she spoke. “Y-you wanted to t-talk?” She asked rhetorically. “W-we can talk,” y/n offered. Hopefully, she could keep the fan talking long enough for help to reach her.

“No!” The fan scoffed. “I don’t want to talk,” she snarked.

Y/n tried to lean back from the blade, the firm tile of the bathroom floor not allowing her much relief. “B-but, you said-,” y/n argued.

“That was before this!” The fan shouted. She raised her non dominant hand, letting go of y/n’s hair.

Y/n noticed the blood dripping from the fan’s arm. She looked back up at the fan with fearful eyes. “Then… wha-what do you want?” Y/n asked, trying to slide backwards on the tile so she could at least use the wash to sit herself up.

“STOP MOVING YOU STUPID BITCH!” The fan scolded. “I love that man, but I swear he’s an idiot, I don’t how you tricked him into thinking he loves you, but I’m going to help him see the truth.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as she froze. She didn’t know what else there was to do at this point. She’d tried to fight but was out armed. She tried to scream but no one heard. She tried to call security but her phone fell. The only thing left was to try and get the crazy fan to drop her guard slightly.

“I… I… I’m sorry… I…” y/n lied, trying to appear weak and like the fan had cracked her. “What can I d-d-do?” She pleaded with fake tears. “H-how can I h-help? Please, I’ll do anything,” y/n fibbed.

“You- you want to help me?” The fan questioned hesitantly.

Y/n nodded, wincing as the blade scratched her skin. “I.. I had my fun…” she mumbled, hating herself for even lying about it. “I… you’re clearly better for him..”.

“Really?” The fan smiled. “You admit I’m better for Tom?” She asked dreamily.

Bingo. Y/n nodded faintly again, not wanting to say it.

The fan seemed to pick up on y/n’s reasoning. “Say it,” The fan barked.

“W-what?” Y/n questioned.

“Say that I’m better for Tom, that he’d be happier with me,” The fan ordered.

Y/n swallowed, the knot on her throat hitting the blade of the knife still pressed against her. She felt nauseous and her eyes prickled with tears. Tom was the actor, not y/n. But, she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Y-you’re better for Tom,” y/n mumbled. She hoped her shaky voice and watery eyes came across as fake remorse and sorrow for the fan rather than the fear and guilt she felt. When the fan stared at y/n expectantly, y/n fought the desire to tremble as she stared back in terror. “H-he… To-Tom,” y/n corrected herself not wanting to further upset the girl by being vague, “Tom would be happier with you”.

The fan smirked with pride. She tilted her head mockingly at y/n. “I’m glad you finally see it,” The fan commented. “Now, we just need to work on what you’ll say when he gets here.”

“What? He’s-he’s not coming,” y/n stated fearfully. She hoped she was right. She wanted Tom to call security, but she didn’t want Tom to get himself caught up in this dangerous situation.

“Of course he’s coming. He thinks he loves you,” the fan sighed. “He’s wrong, of course.” The fan rolled her eyes. “But no worry, because once we show him that you don’t actually love him like he deserves, he’ll choose me, his true love,” she grinned.

Y/n tensed. “S-show him… That I-“ she mumbled.

“You’ll see. You’re going to tell him that you don’t love him,” The fan explained.

“Or…” y/n whispered, her voice cracking. She knew she’d likely lost her ruse, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be forced to lie to Tom; especially about this.

“Or, I’ll remove you from the picture myself,” the fan warned. “Then he’ll finally be all mine,” She smiled.

Y/n willed herself not to cry, she had to figure out a way out of this. There was no doubt even if y/n didn’t make of it, the girl would kill Tom too once she saw Tom wasn’t going to fall in love with her the way she thought. Y/n refused to let that happen. She needed to get her and Tom out of this.

Tom ran his hand down his face as he tried dialing y/n’s number again. He’d tried twice already with no response. Granted, they were back to back, so if she was busy with something, there’d been little time to finish and answer the phone. But surely, by him calling a third time, y/n would get the seriousness behind his calls and drop whatever she’d been doing.

Tom felt his whole body go numb as his third call went to voicemail. He closed his eyes as his fear reached an all time high. He looked around to tell someone he had to leave but didn’t see Harry in the hall. Tom didn’t want to waste anymore time so he decided to just leave.

Tom ran to the set door and grabbed his jacket, yanking his keys out before dashing out the door. He threw open his car door and jumped in. He quickly dialed Jones’s phone as he sped out of the parking lot. Tom sighed when Jones didn’t answer, maybe he was already with y/n then.

Tom was only seconds from their street when Jones called him back. “Is y/n okay?! Is she with you?!” He asked after hitting accept. Tom felt a chill rush through him when Jones stated he had no idea what Tom was talking about.

Tom quickly took the corner, speeding even more as he drove closer to his apartment. “Just meet me at my house, NOW!” He shouted as he pulled into the driveway. Tom vaguely noticed Jones commenting that he and another officer were on their way.

When he threw open the front door and didn’t hear an alarm go off, Tom felt his tears rising even more. He clumsily rushed past the blanket fort y/n had made in the living room. “Y/N?! LOVE?!” Tom yelled, moving further into the apartment.

Tom glanced in the kitchen to see if the back door showed any signs of damage. Since the front door was still locked and closed, he hoped he was overreacting. Maybe y/n was just taking a nap.

Tom’s tears fell down his cheeks as he found the broken glass and open back door. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled. He rushed back to the living room. “Please,” Tom whimpered.

Tom went to go up the stairs, stopping when something cracked under his foot. He slowly raised his leg and looked down. He winced as he noticed it was y/n’s phone. Tom lifted it up and saw she’d pulled up Jones’s contact. He felt his heart drop as he faintly heard a struggle upstairs.

Tom threw y/n’s phone down and bolted up the staircase. “Y/N!!” He screamed, taking the stairs three at a time. “PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He pleaded breathily as he reached the top. Tom froze as his head snapped towards the bathroom.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Tom belted, sprinting to the end of the hall. “HEY!” He yelled, going to pull on the girl standing over his girlfriend. Tom’s breath hitched as he saw the blade pressed against y/n’s throat.

Tom froze as he stared in fear. He could see the terror and distraught in y/n’s eyes as she was pinned to the ground at knifepoint. Tom breath was shaky as his hands were fisted at his side. He tried to shoot his girlfriend a remorseful look, uncertain if she could see it from her angle. And then, he turned his eyes towards the girl holding her hostage as his eyes lit with fury.

“Back. Away. From. Her. Now.” Tom seethed, his jaw tight as he stared down the crazy fan.

“Tom! Oh my gosh,” The fan gushed. “Hi! Sorry for the mess, Uhh,” she giggled, “not to worry, I’m sure y/n will help clean it up after”.

Tom squinted harshly at the girl. “After? After what?” He asked dreadfully. He tried to look around the girl to see how y/n was doing. His eyes widened upon seeing drops of blood on the white tile flooring. Tom glanced back at the fan, “please. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Take it!” He pleaded.

“Is it money?” Tom questioned, “you can have it. Call my brother and he’ll help get it all out from the bank for you”.

Y/n tried to speak, but her voice was muffled as the fan pressed the flat edge against her more forcefully in warning. She squirmed and debated whether she should try and fight the fan off again now that Tom was here.

“Y/n,” Tom whimpered. “Don’t, please,” he begged, “I’ve got this”. Tom looked back towards the fan with his hands held up. “Just call him, his name is in my phone-".

“Harry, duh. I know your brother’s name, silly,” the fan laughed. “I know all their names! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?!” She shook her head in disbelief.

Tom tried to resist looking confused as he slowly nodded. “Okay…” he mumbled, “so… then uhh,.. Yeah, call him and he’ll get you however much you want. It’s all yours. Just, let y/n go, please”.

“I don’t want your money,” the fan tsked.

“You.. you don’t?” Tom sighed in frustration. “Then wh-what do you want?” He asked hopelessly. “Merch? Harry can get that too. Ummm autographs? Tell me what to sign. Umm, do you want-“ Tom rambled, trying to find a solution.

The crazed fan pouted. “I don’t want anything from you babe,” she answered. “Relax, you don’t have to do anything Tommy bear.”

Tom’s breath wavered as he tried to keep his composure. “Then… then wh-why is my girlfriend on the-?” He stopped himself as the fan glared and turned to y/n, gripping the knife tighter. Tom realized his mistake; this fan claimed in her message that she thought she was his one true love.

“Ex,” the fan hissed, turning back to Tom. “Your ex-girlfriend,” she corrected.

Tom swallowed tensely. Even though the statement was false, it didn’t sit well with him. Even more concerning though was that he had no idea where the fan was going with all of this if she already decided y/n was his ex.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” The girl sighed with what sounded like sympathy. “You’re about to hear why that’s a good thing,” she said. “And I’ll be here to help you through it after.”

Tom opened his mouth to ask what exactly the girl meant when suddenly she was ordering y/n to sit up. He flinched forward instinctively when y/n struggled to get into a seated position. Tom only stopped himself when the fan pressed the knife closer to y/n’s skin, grazing it slightly. Ironically, he wanted to move towards y/n even more after that in order to get the knife away from her, but he knew any movement on his behalf could make things drastically worse in seconds; before he would have time to stop it.

Y/n rested her head against the wall of the bathroom. Her cheek brushed against the toilet paper holder installed beside her on the wall. She couldn’t get herself to look at Tom knowing what the fan was about to make her do. The fan had warned/instructed y/n on it prior to Tom’s arrival.

“Okay, speak,” The fan ordered. She moved infinitesimal to the side so Tom could see y/n clearly.

Y/n closed her eyes and shook her head. She no longer cared about the pain that came with such movement. Y/n felt her tears stream down her face as she tried not to shake. Her stomach was in knots and all she wanted to do was throw up.

“NOW!” The fan shouted, her anger rising at y/n’s lack of cooperation.

Tom flinched at the sudden outburst. He kept his eyes focused on his terrified girlfriend. He watched as her eyes opened and he nodded for her to comply with whatever the fan was saying to do. “Y-y/n, it’s okay, just say it,” Tom pleaded softly.

“See, Tom wants the truth,” the girl remarked. “Now,” she glared at y/n, “tell him”.

Y/n whimpered as she held eye contact with her boyfriend. She saw him silently begging her with his eyes to just do it. Y/n sniffled as she closed her eyes. “I… I… I can’t,” she resisted.

“Do it or I swear!” The girl screeched.

Tom saw the wild look in the girl’s eyes and his fear increased. “Y/n,” he whispered. “I.. I want to hear the truth,” Tom mumbled, playing along with whatever the fan was going for.

Y/n squeezed her eyes tighter and shook. She didn’t want to do this. “I… I don’t….” Y/n mumbled, stopping when the fan yelled for her to use full sentences. “I used you,” She lied.

The words tasted vile as y/n spoke her instructed words aloud. “I.. I don’t love you.” She cried, her resulting movement causing the edge of the blade to seep into her skin. “I-I-I never did. I never l-loved you,” y/n repeated as she’d been told to. She felt her body go limp in defeat after uttering the false but nonetheless hurtful words to Tom.

Tom knew what y/n was saying wasn’t true. But, he could see how badly it hurt her to just repeat them. Nonetheless, he knew he had to play along to get the crazy fan to let y/n go. Fortunately, Tom was already crying.

“O-oh,” Tom whispered with pretend shock. “I… I thought…” he sighed, stepping back in hopes the fan would follow him.

“It’s okay,” the fan soothed. “It’s okay Tommy bear, I’m here for you.” “You don’t need her, I can show you what real love is,” she promised.

Tom noticed the fan had moved closer to him, further from y/n. She was still between the two of them with the knife, but it was no longer at y/n’s throat. Tom wiped his eyes dramatically with a frown. “But… I just…. I can’t believe…” he murmured, taking another few steps down the hall.

The fan sighed. “I know, it’s cruel,” she agreed, “but, aren’t you glad to find out before it was too late?”

Tom shrugged as he yet again moved back some, the fan unconsciously following him. He tried to shoot y/n a sign to be ready to run when the girl eventually exited the bathroom, but y/n wasn’t looking at him. He sighed and quickly improvised. “It’s just…y/n,” Tom whimpered, the fan pouting as he seemingly cried over y/n’s ‘declaration’.

Y/n looked up at hearing Tom say her name. She noticed the way he immediately made eye contact with her and then shifted his gaze to the floor. Y/n looked around and realized the crazy chick and Tom had stepped further into the hall. She was no longer at knifepoint.

Y/n quietly slid her hand toward the keys she’d abandoned earlier. She mentally thanked the girl for being stupid enough to not kick them away. Once she had the keys in reach, y/n took a deep breath as she thought of a game plan. She had to be careful, she didn’t want Tom getting stuck in the crossfire or for the fan to flip out on him in retaliation.

Y/n glanced back up at Tom as she heard him still mumbling about his shock over her statement. In doing so, she noticed a shadow in the staircase. Something she assumed the fan hadn’t seen due to staring crazily at Tom. Y/n took one last deep breath before she silently moved for the keys.

Y/n held the keys in her hands and tried to give Tom a warning glance. She then got onto her knees and leaned forward until she dug the keys into the girl’s leg. Y/n nearly vomited at the force she had to use to puncture the girl’s leg more than just a scratch. But, it was enough for her to get the girl to spin away from Tom.

As the fan turned on y/n, Tom rushed forward to try and grab the knife.

Y/n threw herself back to the ground as she prepared for the knife to contact her.

Before Tom could reach the crazy girl, he heard a buzzing sound and the girl fell to her knees, the knife hitting the ground beside y/n. He snapped his head behind him and saw his security guards standing there, one of whom had tased the fan.

Tom tried to run to y/n but one of the guards stopped him. The one with the taser sidestepped him, likely going to grab the crazy girl. But Tom pushed past both of them and ran to the bathroom. He jumped over the spasming fan in the doorway and fell to his knees beside y/n.

Tom sighed as he saw Y/n was still hunched over, waiting for the impact. “I-It’s just m-me, love,” he whispered tenderly before cautiously placing a hand on her back. When she flinched, he pulled his hand back. But, as y/n turned to look up at him with tears in her eyes, he pulled her to his chest.

“Shhhhh I’ve got you,” Tom cooed, rocking y/n lightly. “You’re safe.” “I’m so sorry”. He repeated these words and similar sentiments as they both cried and held onto each other. Tom faintly heard his security taking the girl away, but he didn’t look away from y/n.

“T-t-To-T-To-“ y/n mumbled, tears still flowing down her face.

“Shhh, you don’t have to talk,” Tom assured her, delicately wiping her cheeks. “I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Y/n shook her head as another sob left her body. “I-I… I didn’t mean it!” She cried. “I swear, T-Tom. I didn’t mean any of what s-she-“.

Tom frowned and pulled y/n back to his chest. He rested his lips on the top of her head as he sighed. “I know darling, I know,” he told her. “I know she made you say it,” Tom acknowledged.

Y/n fisted Tom’s shirt as she cried into his chest. “I … I didn’t… I didn’t want to say it…” she cried. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I didn’t mean it.” Y/n repeated.

Tom listened respectfully as y/n kept repeating herself. He pressed loving kisses to her scalp as he waited for her to calm down. After a few minutes, Tom began replying with a quiet, “I know” each time y/n promised she hadn’t meant what she said.

Tom didn’t know how long this continued. To him it felt like an eternity having to hear y/n’s choked sobs and needless apologies. But, he noticed she suddenly went quiet. Tom cautiously cupped y/n’s face and tilted it so he could see her eyes.

“I love you,” y/n promised. She gazed up into Tom’s eyes and sniffled. “I love you.”

Tom smiled softly at y/n before giving her a quick kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered.

Y/n took Tom’s face in her hands and needily pulled him in for a longer kiss. She closed her eyes as she sunk her fingers into his hair and held him close. Y/n felt a few more tears leave her eyes as she savored the taste of Tom’s lips.

“Are you hurt?” Tom asked when they pulled back, resting his forehead on y/n’s.

“I.. I don’t think so,” y/n mumbled.

“I...-there was… is…blood on the floor,” Tom argued worryingly.

Y/n pulled back and looked over at the spots Tom was referencing. “Oh, I.. I think that’s hers,” she admitted. “I kinda tore up her arm before you got here,” y/n said, eyeing her keys.

Tom hummed and smiled faintly. “I’m so p-proud of you,” he told y/n. He saw y/n’s disagreement and shook his head. “You kept yourself alive until help could come,” Tom argued. “I s-saw you tried to call Jones, you ran, you fought back, you did what you needed to do to survive.”

Y/n sniffled. “I didn’t want to say that… I shouldn’t have-“.

Tom sighed. “I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry you had to. But that’s just it, you had to,” He pointed out. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not hurt or mad. I’m thankful you did what you needed to do. I’m thankful you were so strong,” Tom whimpered lightly.

Y/n flattened her lips and nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here. Thank you for c-coming for me.”

“Always. Now, are you sure-” Tom began, stopping suddenly. He abruptly stood up and carefully pulled y/n up with him. “Your neck,” he muttered, gently tilting her chin up for a better view.

“Shit,” Tom hissed, upset he’d momentarily forgotten about seeing the knife slice y/n’s neck. He eyed the thin line with a deep frown. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Y/n huffed. “Tom, please, I just… I just wanna lay down and sleep,” she cried.

Tom sucked in his lips and nodded in understanding. “Okay. You will,” he promised. “Just after you get that cut looked at,” Tom declared. “Don’t worry, I’m going with you,” he said upon seeing the fear return to y/n’s eyes.

“You didn’t tell me she clawed your back,” Tom sighed, squeezing y/n’s hand as the doctor gave y/n a tetanus booster shot.

“I forgot,” y/n laughed humorously. She sighed, “doesn’t really hurt too much though”.

Tom nodded. “And your throat?” He questioned, eyeing the bandage covering her neck.

“That one hurts like a bitch,” y/n admitted with a quiet laugh. “But, I’ll be fine,” She promised. “But…Tom…. I….” y/n trailed off.

“You what, love?” Tom inquired.

“I don’t really… umm..” y/n sighed and cleared her throat. She immediately winced at the pain that shot through her as a result. Y/n huffed and looked back at Tom, who was watching her with a sorrowful look. “I don’t want to go home… I… I know she’s gone… but…”

Tom nodded rapidly, squeezing y/n’s hand again. “We’re not going back there,” He promised. “W-when the police are umm,… done with their stuff… I’ll have Harry hire some people to help move our stuff out,” Tom stated.

Y/n smiled appreciatively at how Tom had already considered her not wanting to go back there after tonight. “But… Where are we going to stay? You are staying with me still, right?” She asked nervously.

“Of course!” Tom promised. “For now, I can take time off and we can go back to London. Or, we’ll get a hotel or new apartment until the show wraps. Whatever you want darling,” he comforted.

“You need to finish-“ y/n began. She noticed Tom was about to argue with her so she smiled and shook her head. “I want you to finish. But I won’t argue to you taking a few days off right now,” she admitted bashfully.

Tom sighed with relief, not wanting to go back to work just yet. More so, not wanting to be away from y/n again just yet. “Okay, so new place it is, we’ll get a hotel for tonight,” he decided. “Then, figure it out from there,” Tom said softly.

Y/n nodded and smiled lightly at Tom. “Can we go now?” She asked.

Tom chuckled quietly. “Once you’re cleared, darling,” he said, looking at the doctor.

“You’re all patched up, let me just get the discharge paperwork for you to sign and the at-home instructions to take care of your wounds,” the doctor offered with a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re free to go,” he told the couple as he left the room.

Y/n sighed and squeezed Tom’s hand. She was beyond ready to get out of the hospital. To be somewhere comfortable and safe. With Tom.

“In addition to the guards outside,” Tom said, nodding his head towards the door to y/n’s emergency room where a few of his security were. “I tasked Harry with booking the safest hotel he can find. I’m also going to have guards on each entrance to the hotel, and one outside watching our room if we have a patio, and a couple in the hallway by our door, they’ve been told they’ll be working around the clock, and-“ he rambled.

“Tom, I appreciate all of that,” y/n confessed. “But… She’s been arrested. I don’t think we need that many…” she argued.

Tom nodded. “You’re probably right. But… I know you keep saying it’s not my fault….” He sighed. “But, I can’t help it… please just let me do this for you, until things settle down?”

Y/n smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“Tom, you can sleep now, we’re safe,” y/n promised, snuggling into his side as he held her.

“I know,” Tom whispered. “I just want to stay awake and just hold you for a bit,” he confessed. “But, please, rest darling, you’ve had a terribly long day,” Tom pleaded, kissing y/n’s forehead.

Y/n hummed quietly as she breathed in Tom’s cologne. “I love you,” she whispered, melting into his embrace.

“I love you too,” Tom replied, smiling down at y/n. “Thank you for being such a fighter today,” he added, tenderly running his thumb over the space between her brows to soothe her. Tom grinned to himself as he watched y/n quickly drift off to sleep. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if things had gone differently today, but he was glad he didn’t have to find out.

Tom Holland Navigation

Peter Parker / Spider-Man

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin. 

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago." 

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve." 

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten. 

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask. 

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious. 

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer." 

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me." 

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?" 

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say. 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up. 

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth. 

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth. 

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look. 

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why. 

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says. 

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with. 

"Let's make a pact," you say softly. 

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage." 

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks. 

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say. 

"I can't wait till I'm thirty." 

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?" 

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat. 

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do. 

"Do you mean it?" he asks. 

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart. 

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night." 

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve. 

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you. 

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb. 

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away. 

ii. the wound 

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow. 

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though. 

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep. 

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far. 

She looks away, and your not-smile falls. 

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly. 

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die. 

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that. 

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears. 

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—" 

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her. 

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand. 

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long." 

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening. 

So he did. And now you're here. 

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better. 

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead. 

"Come sit," you say. 

"I need to see him," he tells you. 

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita. 

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait. 

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all. 

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels. 

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway. 

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly. 

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does." 

She holds out her hand. 

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there." 

God, are you really that obvious? 

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter. 

Steve’s eyes lock with yours. 

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats. 

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you? 

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side. 

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you. 

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour. 

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared." 

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you." 

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him. 

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't." 

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his. 

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks. 

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.” 

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve. 

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair. 

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly. 

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks. 

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers. 

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say. 

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve. 

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says. 

You scoff. "More like the other way around." 

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van. 

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks. 

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters. 

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops. 

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat. 

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve. 

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment." 

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded. 

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests. 

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years. 

But this? This is way, way beyond that. 

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair. 

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always. 

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording. 

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve. 

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly. 

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time. 

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke. 

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick. 

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks. 

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection. 

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already." 

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again. 

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs. 

God, you’re never living this down. 

“Y’okay?” 

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip. 

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin. 

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight. 

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation. 

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question. 

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you." 

He relaxes. 

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh." 

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not. 

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there. 

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks. 

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face. 

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed. 

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent. 

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you. 

"Do you think he'll come back?" 

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though. 

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight. 

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married. 

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars. 

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness. 

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light. 

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you. 

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you? 

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper. 

Steve squeezes your hand harder. 

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles. 

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?" 

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again. 

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says. 

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says. 

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive. 

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him. 

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair. 

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for. 

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away. 

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you. 

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly. 

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man." 

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart. 

You smile. Steve shakes his head. 

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart. 

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven." 

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?" 

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle. 

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you. 

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again. 

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established. 

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him. 

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot. 

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity. 

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back. 

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat. 

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty. 

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses. 

Now you know: tenderly. 

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise. 

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you. 

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say. 

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times. 

You were so excited when you were hired to play trumpet in Harry’s Love on Tour band. It felt like the ultimate validation after spending so many years as a tormented band geek. You were in your element, playing music with people who loved it just as much as you did. Especially Harry. 

You hadn’t expected you’d spend much time with Harry, he was the superstar, you were just in the background. But you quickly realized that was the farthest thing from the truth. The two of you clicked immediately, falling into this comfortable flirty friendship. You two had become inseparable, everyone on the tour knew that if they couldn’t find one of you, your best bet was to look for the other. Even the fans had noticed your back and forth on stage, and you were quickly labeled as Harry’s bestie. 

You had been ‘friend-zoned’ so many times in your life that you were used to palling around with the guys you liked. It didn’t stop you from falling for Harry though. You knew he was flirty by nature, so you always tried not to read too far into his actions. He obviously didn’t see you the way you saw him. You’d seen the kinds of girls Harry had been photographed with, you’d heard all the rumors about his lovelife. None of those girls looked anything like you, they were these gorgeous supermodels with tiny waists. You would never be that, so you just settled for being his friend. 

But then, there was a shift. Harry’s touches started to linger a little longer, when you would hang out and watch movies, you noticed he started to sit closer and closer. And then, one day everything changed. You had just finished sound check, and Harry asked you to come back to his dressing room with him. And he took that opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You had been together ever since. 

“You’ve been busy today, I’ve hardly seen you.” Harry pouted, you giggled before biting his bottom lip gently. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a lingering kiss.

“Mmm, you always do.” He sighs, squeezing your hips gently. 

“Oh, I meant to ask you. How’d your date go the other night?” He gives you a confused look. You chuckle as you pull out your phone, tapping a few times before pulling up a deuxmoi post that was submitted of Harry, the caption saying he was out on a date with a mystery blonde. 

Harry’s eyes soften, and he lifts his hand to your cheek, stroking it gently. “Angel, you know that’s nothing right? It was a business dinner.”

“I know, I’m just joking around.” He smiled widely at your words and pulled you in so that your head was resting against his chest. 

Harry liked to keep his private life to himself. He felt that he gave so much to everyone all the time, that he wanted to keep some things just for him. Your relationship was one of those things. You were fine with that, you didn’t need to parade your relationship around to the world to know it was real. 

Later that night, you were onstage playing your heart out. You and Harry had been playing off each other all night, like you usually would. He would also shoot an occasional wink, or sly smirk in your direction every now and then. 

The crowd had been particularly rowdy all night, but as the opening notes to Watermelon Sugar began, the screaming crescendoed and people began truly losing their minds. Harry and the band had gotten used to things being thrown onstage, you had gotten pretty good at dodging the assorted items. Until you weren’t.

You were so caught up with the energy in the room, watching Harry drink it all in and give it right back to them, that you didn’t see the watch soaring in the air. But you definitely felt it when it hit you in the side of the head, knocking you to the ground. 

Harry heard the crowd collectively gasp when you went down. He looked around, his brow furrowed in confusion, looking for the scene that caused such a reaction. He turned behind him and saw you on the ground, wincing in pain and holding your head. 

He ran full speed toward you, dropping to his knees in front of you. He tossed his microphone on the riser beside you before collecting you in his arms. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked frantically, stroking your hair. He felt you nod against his chest, but it wasn’t good enough. “Talk to me angel, I need you to say it.” 

You pulled back, tears streaming down your face, you looked up at Harry with a sniffle. “I… I’m.. it’s okay. You n–need to finish.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he takes your face in his hands, leaning in to kiss your tear stained cheeks before turning you to inspect the spot where you were hit. It was already starting to bruise, and there was some blood dripping down. He looked up at Pauli signaling for him to toss him a towel. He pressed it to your head gently as he tried to calm you down. 

“You’re alright baby, I’m right here. I’m so sorry angel, I love you so much.” The words flew from his mouth rapidly, seemingly unaware that his nearby microphone was picking up on all of it. 

Once you composed yourself, you reached beside you, grabbing your glasses that had fallen off when you hit the ground, and placing them back on your face. “Sorry Harry, you didn’t have to stop everything for me.”

“Of course I did,” he assured you. “You’re my girl, you come before anything, always.” 

A wave of murmurs washed through the crowd at Harry’s words. Tens of thousands of people were all watching with rapt attention as he cared for you so tenderly, and professed his love for you. Their confusion and curiosity quickly turned into a chorus of ‘awwws’ when they watched Harry press his lips against yours. 

The sound brought you both back into the moment, suddenly realizing that you were still onstage, and all eyes were on the two of you. Your face turned bright red, you quickly brought your hands up to cover it. Harry chuckled, pulling you close. 

“I guess you’re about to get your deuxmoi debut, angel.” He joked. 

“And tiktok, and twitter, and everything else.” You chuckle in response. 

Harry pulled back so that he could look you in the eyes. “C’mon, let me walk you off and get you comfy, then I’ll come back and finish up here.” 

You shake your head quickly. “No, I want to finish the show. I can do it.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, his tone thick with worry.

You nod and stand up, picking up your trumpet to show him you were fine. He shrugged, giving in to you. He knows how stubborn you are, it would be easier just to finish the show. He gets up as well, picking up his microphone with one hand, and taking your hand with the other, leading you to center stage. 

“She’s okay!” He announced into the microphone, lifting your arm up in the air. 

The crowd erupted, and you curtseyed shyly. You looked over to Harry, who was already looking at you, you could see the adoration in his eyes as he lifted your joined hands to his lips. 

“Alright,” Harry returns his attention to the crowd. “Shall we try that one again?” The crowd cheered and Harry let go of your hand. When you turned to return to your spot onstage you jumped suddenly when you felt Harry’s hand playfully tap your backside. You shot him a wink over your shoulder and he smiled in response. 

You waved off your fellow band members as they all asked if you were alright, and if you were sure you wanted to do this. You lifted your horn to your mouth, showing everyone that you were fine and ready to move on. The song began, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch, Harry continuing to look back at you, giving you questioning thumbs ups to ensure you were feeling alright, you returned them all with a wink. 

His cock hangs heavy over his tummy, weighed down by its own sheer size, flushed a needy dark pink at the tip and curved ever so slightly to the right, “Babe, how has any girl ever taken that?” 

And it’s really a genuine, valid question to ask. He’s so big it makes your mouth water and your pussy clench, though it niggles in the back of your head that he’s guaranteed to be such a stretch. Your hand lays on his thigh, caressing the tan, toned flesh under your biting nails, and you choose to ignore the way he’s hissing from such a simple touch.

“Nobody has, honey,” Steve answers honestly, looking down with blown out eyes as your hand inches closer, backs of your knuckles brushing over his heavy sack, “I mean, I've — I've obviously had sex before, that’s a given. Just that I've had to stop halfway, ‘cause it hurts them.”

“Fuck,” You mutter to yourself, ghosting your fingertips up the length of his shaft until it’s kicking up under your touch, a blurt of precum spilling from his slit, pooling into the dip of his bellybutton, “You’re real sensitive.” 

Your voice is breathy, strangled in your throat and Steve whimpers, hips canting up when you wrap your hand loosely around the tip, thumb smearing through the mess he’s making. Your touch is gone as fast as it’s there, pressing your thumb into your mouth like it’s nothing — he tastes nice, almost. Like he clearly drinks water, which is more than you could say for most men.

“Please, honey,” Steve begs, watching you with lust blown eyes as you smack your lips together, savouring him in your mouth, “Y’gonna let me fuck you? I'll be so gentle, promise.” 

You think it over — you don’t want him to be gentle. You want him to pin you down and make you take it, fill you up until he’s nestled in your fucking guts and spilling his load so deep you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. But you’re not stupid, you’re clearly not ready for that. Not yet.

He’s disheveled looking as he leans back on his mountain of pillows, lazily sat with you between his spread thighs. He lost all of his clothes long ago, and you’re only sitting in your underwear, the state you’re both in is a clear expectation that you were anticipating sitting on his cock and riding him til the cows came home. 

“Gentle or not, Harrington,” You start, maneuvering yourself so you can tuck your legs under his thighs, spreading yourself wide and showing off the obvious wet patch on your silky underwear, “M’gonna need to prepare for taking that monster.”

Steve's not even looking at you, fully focused on the way you’re sliding your panties to the side and exposing your needy cunt to the warm air in his room — you’re soaked, folds glistening under the light as you spread them with your fingers.

He makes a noise, large hand coming out to grip at the base of his cock and squeeze, relieving an ache — he’s barely covering half of his length, your gut churns at that knowledge —, “‘M I not gonna get to touch you at least?” He asks, jerking himself slowly as he watches you in an almost trance-like state, the tips of your middle and ring fingers dipping into your slick entrance and breaching.

It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you, of course you fucking do. but watching him touch himself over you touching yourself is making your tummy quiver, “Patience, baby.”

“Fuck, okay,” Steve’s lazy with it, jerking his cock at a slow pace as you finally sink your fingers into yourself, a quiet moan pulling from your chest as you do it. You can’t stop watching him touching himself, clearly going slow with it so that he doesn’t blow his load before he gets to fuck you.

You’re so close together that the back of your wrist is brushing Steve's heavy balls with every slick glide of your fingers in and out of your gushing pussy, and it’s eliciting the prettiest noises from him. a flush of heat washes over you, tummy muscles clenching when the pad of your middle finger just barely catches on that sweet sensitive spot inside. 

“Feel good?” Steve's voice is breathy, almost desperate as his eyes finally flitter up to yours, ripped away from the sight of your cunt pulsing and gushing around your fingers. He's squeezing the base of his cock again, in a desperate attempt to stop working himself up too quickly.

“It —,” You start, gasping when Steve adjusts his leg on top of yours and you’re suddenly hyper aware of his skin on yours, “My fingers are just a little short.” 

You don’t even need to ask, Steve's up on his knees and pushing into your space before you can even comprehend it. His cock merely brushes the inside of your thigh and you both moan, the head catching on your flushed skin and smearing wet in its wake. 

“Let me?” Steve's voice is barely above a whisper, hand coming up to brush his unruly hair out of his face. It’s hotter than you’d care to admit to, with his pretty pink lips hung open, watching you intently as you slip your fingers out of yourself fully, the sickening squelch making you both shudder.

You lean back on both hands, Steve's hovering so close over the top of you that his breath is hitting your face, fingers grazing up the inside of your thigh until he’s hitting your hot, wet folds. Two fingers swirl just barely over your clit, enough to punch a moan out of you, fingertips grappling on his comforter, before he’s sinking the same two fingers into your cunt, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, steve’s expert fingers crooking up into that spot you couldn’t quite catch and past it, rubbing at the spongyness until your hips are canting up. The leaky tip of his cock presses into the meat of your leg, a reminder it’s there, and it only makes you moan louder, hips rocking into Steve's hand.

“You’re so tight around my fingers, fuck,” Steve comments, watching between both of your bodies as your pussy swallows his fingers, clenching and fluttering on them — the slick slide is deafening in your ears, winding you up further.

His thumb swipes at your clit and it makes your eyes roll, the assault on your g-spot becoming almost too much, the heat in your tummy blooming quickly. 

“You gonna cum for me?” Steve's grinning, leaning his forehead on yours, fingers speeding up ever so slightly, pads running in circles until you’re panting and crying out, “Can feel you gripping me, honey. C’mon, let me feel you cum.” 

Your eyes squeeze tight as the blooming heat bursts into flames, a cry of his name leaving your lips as euphoria spreads through your entire body. You feel your cunt pulsing sporadically around Steve’s fingers, gushing wet and soaking the sheets as he fucks you through it, fingers slowing down until they’re almost at a stop. 

Suddenly, the overwhelming desire to have Steve fill you up with his cock is clouding your brain, blurring your eyes at the edges. You can feel him, hot and heavy, brushing so close to your cunt it’s dizzying, “Need you to fuck me, steve. please?”

Steve's brows pull together, he’d clearly forgotten about his own needs and desires in favor of yours and that only makes you want him all the more, “You sure, honey? You’re gonna be so sensitive, can you handle me?” 

His words shouldn’t affect you the way they do, but you moan, all high pitched and needy, “C’mon, Steve. Fuck me like you mean it.”

And who would Steve be to refuse you that? He gently nudges you down onto your back until you’re laid flat, pulling your shaking legs up until your knees are bent up.

You can feel the head of his cock snagging ever so slightly on your puffy cunt, still sopping wet and no doubt drenching him in your release. Your tummy quivers in anticipation.

He sighs, shaky, as he grips at the base of his cock blindly, unable to take his eyes off of yours, like he’s searching for a definite answer. You nod, another go ahead, and his cock properly presses at your entrance, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

He’s. Well, he’s fucking big. The first few inches slip into you and punch a ragged moan from you, eyes squeezing shut as you beg your body to relax for him.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice catches you off guard, his other hand grabbing for yours and lacing your fingers together at the side of your head, “If it doesn’t feel good, tell me to stop.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” You gasp, squeezing his hand. It’s not a bad burn, it feels fucking good. Teeters on the edge of too much, but the right edge. 

“Oh thank god,” Steve chuckles a little, pushing in another inch and your pussy clenches instinctively, choking his cock, “Honey, I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.” 

You giggle, the movement causing your cunt to flutter around him and he moans properly this time, rutting into you another inch or two, filling you out. 

Steve’s hand that was on his cock suddenly grips at your hip, as he bottoms out with a low growl, you feel it rumble up his chest, “You’re so — so fucking tight, warm,” Steve grits his teeth, pushing his hips forward to make it obvious that he’s fully sheathed in you, his heavy balls pressing tight to your ass.

You feel. Full. Ridiculously full. He’s hitting everywhere inside of you, the curve of his cock pressing into all the right spots, thatch of dark pubes brushing against your sensitive clit. 

His hand laced with yours grounds you, helps you relax and settle into it quickly, his chest flush to yours and pressing you down helps, too. 

Your eyelids flutter when he ruts into you again, reminding you of the size of him, “Move, Steve, need you to fuck me, yeah?” 

Steve grunts, pulling out just a few inches and pushing back in, eyes rolling as the wet heat of your cunt invites him back in, “Think your pussy likes me being here, honey.” 

You cry out at that, pussy spasming. You’re at a loss for words, the only thing on your mind is how Steve invades all of your senses. He leans down, kisses at the expanse of your neck as he sets a good rhythm. You feel every ridge of him, pushing so deep you swear you feel him in your guts.

“Hear that?” He mutters against your flushed, damp skin as he fucks you properly now, knocking the breath from you with every harsh thrust, “She loves me, baby. Loves my big cock, fuck.” 

Of course you can fucking hear it, the way your cunt is gushing, sloppy and soaking for him, more and more leaking around his shaft as he assaults your frontal wall. You whine, loud and beggy, fingernails digging into Steve’s hand where they’re still interlaced at the side of your head.

“Taking me so good, honey. Can’t believe you’re taking all of me,” Steve groans, pace quickening as he chases his high — you’re not far behind, the constant press to your spongey spot and the occasional catch of your clit against his pubic bone is getting you there fast.

It’s so fucking hot, the way he speaks to you. Your body is alight with need and want, “Keep talking, Steve. G’nna cum,” You breathe, leg tightening around the base of his back, heel of your foot pushing into his ass.

“Yeah?” Steve grins into your collarbone, you feel it against your flushed skin, “Cumming when you’re full on my big cock? Fuck, c’mon, show me how much she loves me. She’s so greedy, honey.”

Your cunt grips him like a vice, that same blooming feeling from earlier back with a vengeance as you reach the end — it’s so hard to think, with him pressing so deep and rough. You nod, whining and crying out, “Fuckfuckfuck, ohmygod —!” 

Your vision blurs at the edges, knocked dizzy and sick with it when your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, fingertips digging into the back of Steve’s hand until he’s hissing and groaning, fucking you through it with a harsh snap of his hips.

“That’s it, so fucking tight,” Steve grunts, picking up speed and rutting into you until you’re practically screaming, “Gonna cum in you, fill you up with it, oh fuck —”

His hips still suddenly as he pushes his face into your neck and cums with a low grunt of your name. You feel every bit of his release shooting deep inside you, every pulse of his cock. Your walls flutter around him and he hisses in retaliation, smacking your hip gently. 

He collapses on top of you after that, entire body spent. You can’t find it in you to care, as his cock softens slowly — you feel his cum spilling out of you, though you’re half asleep and struggling to comprehend it.

Your attention only piques when you feel fingertips at your puffy, used entrance, pushing the liquid back into your weeping hole.

He runs a hand down his face, another long sigh falling from his lips whilst he loosens his tie, before reaching to flick the light on. He frowns, with slight confusion, as he looks around the apartment, realising the light is already on. Then his face softens as he looks over at you. You’re curled up on his sofa, safe, with a throw blanket draped over your body. He blames his exhaustion for not recognising that sooner.

The sight makes his heart melt, a sudden warmth bleeding through his chest, and just like that the stress from today withers away, replaced by an overwhelming feeling, love.

Spencer walks over to where you’re lying, carefully kneeling beside the sofa as he moves your hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He leans down to gently kiss your cheek, and the feeling stirs you awake.

Your eyes flutter open slowly, adjusting to the low light of the lamp. “Shit- I’m sorry honey,” he says softly, the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheek almost lulls you back to sleep.

He watches you with kind eyes as you sit up, flashing him a sleepy smile and he can’t help but chuckle at you. “It’s alright” you whisper, words coming out all mushed together and laced with sleep. “How was work?” You ask, adoration, dripping from your tone that it, in all honesty, takes Spencer back a little.

He wasn’t used to this, having someone whose love for him was so unconditional like yours. It scared him in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe and he knows, as he would do everything in his power to keep you, and your love for him.

Your question only elicits another dreary sigh, although a lot more dramatised. “Oh no, that bad huh?” You giggle, as he pouts, nodding his head. “Oh, you poor thing” you coo, with playful sarcasm.

He lets out a muffled, “I know” as he rests his head against your shoulder. His arms wrapped around you as he holds you close to him, your hands soothing against his back, a silent way of comforting him from the awful day he’s had.

He breathes in deeply, grounding himself with your touch and scent and he smiles when he realises you’re wearing that one perfume he had brought for your birthday, a sweet scent, but not too strong. It reminded him of a summer evening, which in turn, made him think of you.

“Oh, there are leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry, just need to heat them up,” you tell him as he pulls back to press a kiss to your hairline, standing up with a soft huff, “I didn’t know if you had already eaten, so I thought better to buy you something, just in case”

God what did he do to deserve such a beautiful person in his life. He can’t help but think as you smile up at him, eyes crinkling slightly. A beautiful person, through and through.

“Thank you baby” he smiles back at you as you follow him out to the kitchen, the throw blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, to fight off the cold.

He puts the container in the microwave, turning the dial and setting it for a couple of minutes. You stand behind him with your arms around his torso, the pair of you gently swaying as he waits for his food to warm up, and he doesn’t miss the way you stifle a yawn against his shoulder.

Spencer turns around, facing you, and his hands cup your cheeks gently. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re tired, go get into bed I’ll join you in a minute, honey,” he tells you, with nothing but care in his voice.

But, at last, you’re stubborn and you shake your head as he frowns at you, “I want to sit with you and talk for a while” you mumble, fighting the urge to close your eyes as his thumb caresses along your cheek.

He knows you hate it whenever you two don’t get to have dinner together, honestly a rarity, so that's why he doesn’t push it, knowing the time you spend together is so important to you both.

He whispers a small ‘Alright’ as he presses another kiss to your forehead then another to the tip of your nose. The gentle words ‘I love you’ fall so easily from his lips.

“I love you too, so much” you whisper before pulling him into you, your lips finally meeting his in a sweet kiss, a warmth that blankets the pair of you, woven by your devotion for each other.

With that, the microwaves finally ‘Dings’ making the pair of you pull apart. You keep to your words, and you sit with him while he eats, both of you talking about anything and everything. It’s home, Spencer thinks as he listens to you recall your day, spilling all the 'office gossip', which he loves just a little too much, and he knows there’s no one else he’d rather come home to than you.

By the time Spencer gets into bed, you’re already passed out, shuffling closer to him in your sleep as he cuddles up beside you, your leg thrown over his, and he sleeps soundly with you next to him, a heart full of love.

“. . . You approach the shopkeeper, wary of the many skeletal remains hanging from the ceiling. You’re not welcome, it’s apparent from the menacing look on his face, not helped by the flicker of the burning candles. Sir Soren notices the shopkeeper’s arm reaching slowly under the table—’’ 

  “AWWWWWWWW!” 

  Eddie snapped out of his revery, stuttering as the rest of Hellfire cooed and Dustin even squealed. He followed their gazes, to the newborn in his lap, weighing no more than six pounds and smaller than most of his big sister’s stuffed animals after his early arrival into the world, and he could see why they reacted like they did.

  His son was mid yawn, plump little lips stretched into a wide ‘O’, eyes squeezed shut.

  Once he was done yawning, the baby blinked owlishly, staring at nothing in particular with heavy lidded eyes.

  “Oh my god, he’s so cute.”

  “He’s so little! Look at those teeny tiny feet!” Dustin was making weird faces at baby Wayne, trying to get some sort of positive reaction out of him. 

  “Forget the feet, look at his hands!” Eddie glanced down to see what Erica was talking about, the newborn had somehow managed to link his  squishy fingers together. “He’s so distinguished! What a proper little gentleman!”

  “FOCUS!” Eddie snapped, sighing when his bellow spooked the baby in his hands. Not enough to make him cry, but Eddie had felt his little body go stiff. He placed one hand over his baby’s front and used the other to rub his back. Sure enough, Wayne relaxed into his hold, leaning forward onto Eddie’s forearm.

  “You can’t tell us to focus on what you’ve been bragging about is the most terrifying part of our campaign when you’ve got cutie patootie front and center.” Dustin argued.

  Eddie rolled his eyes, “I can put him down for his nap—’’

  “NO!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t do it!”

  “That’s illegal!”

  “That’s what I thought,” Eddie was smug, leaning back into the recliner. 

  Since his graduation, Hellfire continued both as a school club and out of school with most of the members perfecting their characters and strategizing during their school meetups. Sessions took place on fridays at the Munson trailer.

  Normally, you’d use the Hellfire sessions for some mommy and daughter bonding time with Penny or on occasion, Penny would sometimes stay with him and cheer on the group.

  Bad daddy! Very bad daddy! She’d scolded him after a session a couple of months ago for a different campaign in which Will’s character was killed.

  You’d been low on groceries so you’d planned on running out for more while Hellfire took place but neither you or Eddie had taken the kids out solo yet.  

  It was easy when both of you went, but a routine trip to the grocery store seemed intimidating if you’d be trying to juggle a newborn and mischievous toddler. 

  Eddie convinced you to leave Wayne with him. It’d be easy, he was used to Penny’s crazy antics during those times she stayed with him during Hellfire, so a newborn who was barely active if he wasn’t sleeping would be a walk in the park. He was much more confident as a father this time around, actually knew what he was doing.

  There was only one problem: his baby was just too damn adorable.

  You’d found Penny’s old Hellfire onesie and while it was too big to button, you’d put a pair of baby sweats over Wayne’s little legs, tucking the onesie in. 

  Every single member had promptly lost their shit after seeing Wayne in his arms when they walked in.

  In fact, the session had started late as Wayne made his rounds through their arms. Amy—a new member, a freshman and a cheerleader (she was a little annoying with how often she brought it up)—hadn’t wanted to give him back but none of the party could focus with the baby in such close proximity so Eddie had reclaimed him. 

  If Wayne did anything remotely baby like, they’d go off course. Half an hour had passed and they’d barely made it from the town entrance to a single shop. An astounding amount of progress.

  “Get those big heads of yours back in the game,” Eddie cleared his throat, Dungeon Master persona taking over again. 

  “You enter the shop─”

  Wayne hiccuped against the skin of his arm where he was drooling, it was low and probably would have gone unnoticed had the party not already been paying an intense amount of attention to him. 

  Did you hear that?!

  Oh. My. GOD!

  Eddie, let me hold him.

  “That’s it, the shop is rigged with homemade explosives, Sir Soren triggered them, the shop blows up. You’re all dead. Session over.”

  They all groaned and protested.

  “Okay—okay! We’ll pay attention.”

  Hiccup.

  “OH MY GOD, HE DID IT AGAIN!”

  They all went into baby talk mode, each of them trying to grab his son’s attention, who managed to somehow avoid looking at any of them while staring off into their general direction.

  Eddie sighed, shoulders caving under defeat as he readjusted his hold on his baby, hands grasping his sides and supporting Wayne’s head as he lifted him to eye level.

  Wayne’s big, brown eyes focused on him immediately, making almost silent baby noises. Eddie softened, corners of his lips twitching out of endearment. 

  “You gotta help me out here, kid.”

  Hiccup.

  Eddie lowered him, pressing a kiss to his soft little nose.

  The baby let out a sharp squeak, thrusting his head forward. Eddie raised his chin to avoid the collision as his sons’ head nuzzled and bumped against his collar, almost as if he was physically trying to seek more affection, encourage Eddie to give him more kisses.

  Baby neck control, man. So bobble-head like.  

  “What am I gonna do with you?” Eddie mumbled, bending to smother the lower half of his face into the fuzz on his baby’s head.

  It was then he noticed how silent the party was, attention finally focused on him. Amy practically had hearts in her eyes (though she had a crush on Will, who was too kind to burst her bubble), “Can I hold him again? Please?”

  “No way! That’s not fair, you already got to hold him!” Lucas argued.

  “Yeah, well so did you!”

  “I meant during Hellfire! You were holding him when we first came into town!”

  “That doesn’t count, Eddie took him away!”

  And so came another argument. Eddie wasn’t even slightly amused as he watched them go back and forth. Until, he had an idea. 

  Maybe they could focus with Wayne in close proximity after all.

  He shielded the back of his baby’s head with his hand, palm covering one ear and his fingers covering the other.

(a/n: yeah, his hand is bigger than Wayne’s head, go ahead and swoon)

  “SHUT UP!” The voices of the party died down immediately. “New rule…”

  ─

  You parked alongside the trailer, right next to Eddie’s van and unloaded your groceries. It wasn’t too much, three bags. 

  “I help, mama! I can cawwy!” Penny had insisted, leaning her body against your legs with her arms stretched up and you relented, taking out most of the items save for a few rolls of toilet paper from one bag to hand her. 

  “Such a good helper, thank you so much!”

  “Yes.” She hummed, a satisfied smile stretching her face. 

  The two of you climbed up the steps—you’d had to shift both the grocery bags in one arm to help her hop up the steps and unlock the door—and entered your home, immediately noting the tense atmosphere. 

  Lucas stopped his dialogue and the entire table turned to you with Eddie grinning from his place, lounged back in the recliner, “Hey, baby. Welcome home.”

  On impulse, your eyes scanned the room for your actual baby, spotting him in Lucas’ arms as the rest of Hellfire greeted both you and Penny.

  Penny put her bag on the ground near the counter and ran over to Eddie who helped her into his lap before his arms wrapped around her little frame to hold her in place while he smothered her face in kisses.

  She squealed and wiggled until he released her and she immediately slid out of his lap in favor of Will’s.

  “Sorry to interrupt, you won’t even notice I’m here.”

  “I always notice, why don’t you join us for this last bit?” Eddie asked, beckoning you over with his forefinger in a come hither gesture. 

  “I will as soon as I’m done putting this stuff away—don’t you dare,” You nearly glared at him as he began to rise in order to assist you, “I’ll be right there, it’ll take me like two minutes and you always put stuff in the wrong place.”

  Eddie smirked, “You say this, yet you find it every time.”

  Your glare was a playful one and you shook your head, gaze flickering back over as Lucas handed your baby over to Mike.

  “No, dude, it’s Gareth’s turn.”

  “Oh my bad.”

  Then the oddest thing happened. Mike handed your baby over to Lucas, who passed him to Amy, who then placed him in Gareth’s waiting arms.

  “Is there a reason everyone is playing hot potato with our child?”

  “He’s my potato…” You heard Penny mumble.

  “Outside of Hellfire he might be our son, but inside the Realm of Asmodeus, he is the Ioun Stone of Language Knowledge, a gift bestowed upon the party by King Wolfgang,” Eddie informed you, casting the teens before him an amused look.

  “Because no one could pay attention, the shopkeeper was able to curse them with different languages to create a communication barrier. Whoever holds the stone is understood by the members in their new respective languages. In other words, everyone gets to hold the baby, and move beyond just several feet. Everyone’s happy.”

  Dustin huffed, “Not me, you all left me for dead in the tunnels!”

  Eddie shrugged and checked the time on his watch, “Well, don’t spend your turn with the stone talking about how you want to eat its fingers and toes and maybe you’ll see the trap next time. It’s late anyways, pack it up. We’ll pick up here next week.”

  Without standing, Eddie made grabby hands in Wayne and Gareth’s directions, with the latter handing him over.

  You quickly put your groceries away while everyone stored all the props and joined Eddie, seating yourself on his lap, mindful of the baby resting on his chest.

  Penny was running around after them, trying her hardest to be Lucas and Will’s helper and the two of you watched her until Dustin piped in.

  “You’re not really gonna let them leave me in a ditch though, right?” 

  Eddie smirked and remained silent, one hand moving to slip behind you and rest against your hip while the other played with his son’s wrinkly fingers. 

  “Right, Eddie?”

September 21st, 1978

Y/n sat at the kitchen table quietly, stewing in her nervousness as she waited for her mom to explain further. She had called her eldest to sit with her, which wasn't what made Y/n anxious. It was when her mom called her by her full name. That was never a good sign.

From underneath the table they sat at, Y/n's mom held up her daughter's school bag, unzipped it and pulled out a sheet of paper. Y/n hung her head, cursing herself for not just throwing it in the bin like she initially contemplated doing. Seeing her reaction, Y/n's mom softened her gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a school trip coming up?”

She could not understand it. Y/n was not the type to hide things from her mom, nor was she the type to pass up an overnight school field trip.

Y/n locked eyes with her mom for a short moment before averting them quickly. Her face was burning up from the embarrassment. She never meant for her little white lie to turn into a whole thing.

“I forgot.”

“Y/n, don’t lie to me.”

The young girl hung her head once more.

“There’s a fee. I didn’t know if we could afford to…”

She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Not after the sharp inhale her mother took almost immediately. Y/n glanced up at her momentarily. She had seen her mother do a heck of a lot of crying over the last few months, but never like that, and never over her.

The older woman rose from her chair and sped around the table, pulling her daughter into her embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she said softly, before finally pulling away. “I know your dad and I have been fighting a lot, and constantly going back and forth about Sara, instead of making sure we were looking after you.”

“I get it, mom,” Y/n whispered.

Her mother felt her stomach drop further. This was the last thing she wanted for Y/n. Her sweet, vibrant Y/n who had gotten far too good at and far too accustomed to pulling a brave face. The older woman lifted her hands to the sides of her daughter’s face and frowned regretfully.

“We’ll do better, I promise,” she said before glancing back down at the sheet of paper on the kitchen table and taking it in her hand once more. “Starting with this field trip, because there’s no way you’re missing out.”

“Mom, you don’t have to-“

Y/n’s eyes widened as her mom held her hand up, stopping her from saying anything further. She pursed her lips tightly, giving the field trip handout a onceover before looking her daughter dead in the eye.

“I’m the mom, you’re the kid, ok?” She snapped, her voice filling the room to the brim, startling Y/n at first and then filling her with relief. She nodded.

The entire time Sara had been sick, nurses and doctors and family friends were commenting on how strong and mature her big sister was, shouldering extra responsibilities to help out her parents and spending all her free time with Sara all while keeping her grades up at school. Y/n never wanted to be strong and mature, but by the way everyone spoke about her, it was obvious that’s what everyone needed her to be.

Y/n’s mother sighed. The fees and the finer details were not to be any of Y/n’s business, she declared to herself. That was hers and Hopper’s. All she wanted from Y/n was a simple answer, and then she would move however many mountains necessary to make it work. The woman gazed intently at her daughter.

“You wanna go on this trip?”

Y/n opened her louth and hesitated for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I-I do.”

Her mom nodded once and looked at the handout yet again, her eyes searching for the information on the fee. It would be a stretch, but the woman’s mind was already decided. One of her girls was going to have some semblance of a nice year if it was the last she did.

“I’ll talk to dad. We’ll make it happen.”

Y/n blinked, dumbfounded. It was that simple? She had spent weeks analysing every sentence on the hand out, contemplating if the trip was even worth bringing up to her parents and contemplating ways she could come up with the money herself.

In one conversation, her mom had fixed it all for her.

The young girl was grinning ear to her. With glossy eyes she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. It was a small but immensely meaningful win for her, and she needed her mom to know that.

“Thank you.”

The woman felt her breath hitch. After several months of hell, a thank and a hug from a happy daughter was more than she could have asked for. She kissed the top of Y/n’s head and hugged her just as tightly, with no intention of letting go until she did first.

***

November 27th, 1984

Y/n needed a second to breathe. She left Steve with the kids for a few minutes so she could lock the backdoor and the windows, but she found herself standing in the hallway and catching her breath.

When Y/n finally made her way back to the living room, she did so slowly, puzzled by the gruff voice coming from the living room where the kids were. She could only just make out the words being spoken.

“You know what happens when I get angry, Max. I break things."

Her stomach turned as realisation hit and she raced towards the sound of the kids screaming. Billy Hargrove was yet again causing trouble. By the time Y/n reached the living room, he had already broken one of Joyce’s plates and held a petrified little Lucas against the wall by his shirt.

Instantly fuming, Y/n made her way towards him with clenched fists, her thumbs tucked in just as she had been taught by her old man.

“Hey asshole,” she shouted, pulling Billy back by his shoulder as hard as she could. Once he let go of Lucas and turned to Y/n, she swung her right fist with all her might and aimed right for his stupid face.

Billy doubled back, lifting his hand to his nose and kissing his teeth when he saw blood on his fingertips.

“Yeah, kick his ass Y/n!” The kids were cheering from the corner of the room, making Y/n forget about the pain in her hand, but only just for a moment. Billy laughed dryly.

“You know, I’m getting real sick of you butting your nose into my business,” he hissed, starting to get the impression she was more than just an old babysitter to the little boys who kept hanging around Max. “Just ‘cause your dad’s the stupid police chief, doesn’t mean you run this town.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, resenting being referred to nothing but the chief’s daughter, even moreso from a dingus like him. He inched forward, trying to intimidate her, but Y/n straightened her back and planted her feet.

“Just shut up and go pick on someone your own size, Billy,” she spat, still fuming. It was bad enough he had a habit of beating up unsuspecting freshman at school, now he was terrorising her kids.

Billy kept moving closer to her, the crease between his brows remaining steady, and it started to dawn on Y/n that if he had no issue with hitting a kid as sweet as Lucas, there was very little chance he would have an issue with beating her up. Her feet shifted backwards ever so slightly, and Billy took immediate notice of it. He smirked.

“Already did,” he taunted, nodding his head towards the window facing the front yard. “Didn’t you see your little boyfriend on the ground outside?”

Y/n was swinging her fist again before it could even register, but unfortunately Billy caught it before another blow could be made to his face. Just as his lips instinctively curved into what Y/n knew would be another infuriating smirk, Y/n jolted her foot upwards until it came to a sudden and aggressive collision with his groin.

Billy doubled back yet again, wincing momentarily and then donning an expression far more sinister. He recovered his stance in a seconds and was glaring daggers at Y/n, completely fed up.

“Oh, you are so dead,” he growled, moving forward with his hands balled up and winding back ready to swing. If he was holding back before, he clearly did not plan to anymore. Y/n stumbled backwards. Before she could remember to tuck her thumbs, a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the way.

“No you are.”

Steve, bloody nose and all, caught Billy’s fist mid-swing and sucker-punched the left side of his face before he could see it coming. Instinctively, Y/n lunged forward and reached for her boyfriend, startled by the injuries already evident on his face.

“Steve!”

While relieved Billy didn’t get the chance to punch her, Y/n did not have time to feel grateful for Steve’s impeccable timing, nor did she have time to watch him get into fight with Billy Hargrove.

Her fingers barely grazed her boyfriends arm before he was following Billy. Y/n stepped back and signalled for the kids to stay out of the way. She knew Steve had had a bone to pick with him ever since he got to Hawkins, so there was no telling where things would go, but something told Y/n it was gonna get ugly. Billy began laughing maniacally, clapping his hands sarcastically before shoving Steve back.

“So you do have a bit of fire in you,” he chuckled. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Just leave,” Steve hissed, shoving him back just as hard. Billy’s smirk never faltered, despite losing his footing for a split second. Instead, he stood tall and inched forward again, narrowing his eyes at Steve tauntingly, as if testing to see what would set him off.

“Didn’t realise all I had to do was go after his bitch-“

Y/n inhaled sharply. Before Billy could get another word out, Steve was jabbing his face and his torso repeatedly. He could tolerate Billy poking fun at him, but not at Y/n. Never at her.

The kids were back to cheering again, and Y/n was grasping at straws trying to de-escalate, before one of them ended up seriously hurt. Sure, maybe she thought Billy deserved a few sucker-punches to the face, and maybe she didn’t mind if Steve was the one handing them out, but there was a bigger battle at hand and time was not on their side.

The two of them brought their fight into Joyce’s kitchen, where Billy took a plate and smashed it against Steve’s head, giving him the upper hand. Y/n muffled a shriek behind her hand and decided it was time to step in. Billy showed no evident intention of slowing down anytime soon, even with Steve on the floor and him towering over. Y/n sped forward and tried to pull him back like she had done before.

“Billy, get the hell off him!”

Steve was already losing consciousness, but Billy just kept going. Y/n tried to get a good grasp of his arm to yank him back, but he was moving too quickly. He swung his fist back just as Y/n leaned forward again, hitting her in between her eyes and sending her backwards.

“Uhh-“ she groaned as she tried to regain focus. Her ears were ringing and her vision was beginning to blur. The last she remembered was seeing Max’s faint figure come marching in wielding something. Then she lost consciousness for a few minutes.

When Y/n finally did begin to see and hear things clearly, Max had a strange bat in her hands and Billy was lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of the side of his neck.

***

March 31st, 1986

The days following Vecna’s attack on Y/n came by like a series of punches, not giving anyone a chance to recover. From kissing Steve in his bedroom, helping Eddie evade an angry mob and then helping Steve and the kids lie to the police about why they were all at lover’s lake in the middle of the night. Y/n could not wait to have a good night’s sleep again.

Unfortunately, the end was nowhere in sight. Everyone gathered around Nancy in Eddie’s living room as she explained what she saw— what Vecna showed her before she and Robin could leave the upside down. Almost immediately afterwards, a few of them started to discuss what to do next. Y/n, on the other hand, could only think about El.

She left to call the Byers’ house phone, but after twenty minutes of nothing, Y/n started to fear for the worst. She came back to the living room just as Dustin came up with a bright idea about thinking Vecna and his powers as another version of El’s.

“That all sounds great in theory, but we don’t even know when he’s going to attack next,” Robin argued, “we don’t even know who he’s gonna attack next.”

Y/n's breath hitched. Suddenly it was beginning to make sense why she still did not feel like herself again. Though she was definitely much happier than she was when Vecna was first targeting her, she could not definitively say her symptoms were completely gone.

“Yeah we do,” she said, looking up and seeing everyone's eyes glued on hers. Y/n had become accustomed to their worried expressions since recovering from Vecna. She knew they were going to be on the fence on what she was about to propose, one of them in particular

“I can still feel him," Y/n clarified before clearing her throat. "I think… I think I’m still a target. Still cursed.”

The room was silent. Everyone exchanged looks with each other. Everyone but Steve, whose attention never left Y/n. She couldn't be serious, he thought. But she was. If she wasn't before, she was now that she knew El might be involved.

“So, maybe I ditch the Bee Gees. I draw his focus back to me... and I keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic," she proposed. “Then you can chop his head off… or stab him- I don't know.”

Y/n shrugged her shoulder and finally looked up, meeting everyone's intense gaze. If she was going to do this, it meant they would have only a small window to do what was needed, to kill the son of a bitch once and for all.

“Just try not to miss.”

Steve furrowed his brows. His frustration grew as he looked around and saw everyone seemingly accept that as the official plan. Like there was nothing alarming about sacrificing his girlfriend to Vecna.

“Woah, hold on, time out," he scoffed, walking towards Y/n and taking hold of her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and out of earshot from the other. Y/n sighed, knowing any lecture he was about to give her would be in vain.

“Steve, don’t try to talk me out of this-“

He narrowed his eyes at her incredulously.

“What, so I should just let you get yourself killed?!”

“I’ve dealt with him before,” Y/n pointed out.

“And you were this close to dying,” he argued, holding his index finger and thumb up to show just how narrowly she escaped the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.

“But I’m not dead! I survived that, I can survive this too.”

She had to tell herself that. She had to force herself to believe it too. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones, both in and out of Hawkins. The crease between Steve's brows persisted, and Y/n knew she had to get him on board.

“No one in California is picking up the phone. I’ve rang about 5 times already,” she explained shakily. “I have this… this gut feeling that they’re in trouble. And if Nancy’s right-“

“And what if she’s wrong?” Steve questioned, knowing he would never be able to live with himself if Y/n got hurt or died unnecessarily.

“But what if she’s right, Steve?” Y/n sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. She was not happy about it either— far from it actually, but what other option was there? She pressed further. “I mean, what if me doing this is our best chance at putting an end to all of this?— An end to Vecna?”

He paused for a moment and realised she was right. If they didn’t go after Vecna with their best foot forward, there was no telling where things would go or how many more people he would hurt.

Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to be ok with it. Steve wanted to find another, any other course of action that didn’t involve putting Y/n’s life in the palm of Vecna’s hands again. He knew his reasoning was selfish, but to hell with it.

“I just got you back, Y/n.”

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping and lips pursing to form a frown. A lump formed in the back of her throat as it dawned on her what he meant. She did not just come back from the clutches of Vecna, she came back to Steve and they found their way back to each other. Inching closer to him, Y/n placed her hands against the sides of Steve’s face.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured reassuringly, before dropping her hands and weaving her fingers with his. “This time is different. We have the upper hand, because I know Vecna’s moves.”

“You do?”

He studied her closely as he traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She shuffled even closer until their hips met and nodded her head.

“I think so,” she answered quietly, thinking back to how she escaped Vecna before, a memory still vivid in her mind. “It’s like he uses my memories— my really bad ones, to make me vulnerable and easier for him to attack.”

It started when she was looking back at the cabin, she remembered. Then she saw her dad and everything got worse. Y/n tried not to reminisce for too long. That wound was still fresh.

“Oh,” Steve muttered beneath his breath before letting out a defeated exhaled. He hated that Y/n went through that, knowing just how bad things were and everything she had been through. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her going through it again just to stall Vecna.

“But when I survived the last time it wasnt just because I heard the song, but because I thought about good memories,” Y/n explained, smiling weakly, knowing that pulling a brave face would be in the best interest. Luckily, she had years of practise doing just that. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”

“What if he does something unexpected?”

“I just think of a really good memory.”

Thankfully, she had a good number of those. Some with her mom and Sara, a lot with El, but most were with Steve. Her eyes locked with his and, without saying it aloud, Y/n knew it was mutually understood.

“But, even if something goes wrong, I’m not worried, because…”

Her eyes never left his. Y/n knew Steve was running out of reasons to be against it, but she also knew that no matter how much of a fight he put up, if she was going to through with being Vecna bait, Steve was going to be right there with her.

“I know you’re not gonna let anything happen to me.”

All she had to worry about was what would happen in her mind nad in Vecna’s territory. She knew Steve would keep her safe in the real world until she was back.

He gave it another moment’s deliberation. In a perfect world, it would not have come down to this, but there was clearly nothing he was going to be able to do to change her mind. Steve sighed.

“Ok.”

Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled her closer to him and took the time to appreciate it all— the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips, her head against the crook of his neck and the smell of her perfume.

He knew it before and he knew it then. Whatever trouble she found herself in, he was always going to be at her side.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 6PM

Y/n tested her flashlight a couple times against the doors to the Creel house and then turned back to the the other three. The plan was for her and Steve to lure Vecna out by going inside what was apparently his childhood home, with Erica and Max keeping an eye from the outside, while the others were headed into the upside down.

She had manage to pull a brave face for the last few days, but standing at the doorstep was beginning to test what little bravery Y/n had left.

“Max, you and Erica will be ok on lookout?”

The young girl nodded, "yup, we got it covered.” She then gestured towards Erica who was already setting up base on the front yard. Y/n watched Max head off and turned back to the front door, her hand reaching out to open it only to be stopped by Steve's.

“Wait, um..." He looked at his shoes, then at the door, then at his shoes again, trying to find the right words without putting a damper on morale. He licked his lips and sighed. "Just be careful, please.”

“I will."

Steve continued to hold her hand firmly, his expression beginning to morph from concern to desperation. He knew once they entered the house, there was no going back.

“If you start to feel like something’s wrong, just-“

“Steve. I will," Y/n assured him, knowing where he was going. Just let me know, she presumed.

Y/n did not need to be reminded that Steve had her back and would be ready to step in if things went south. It was already common knowledge to her. However, that was not what Steve was concerned about.

“You don’t need to put yourself on the line anymore than you already are," he croaked, his tone almost pleading. Y/n drew her brows together.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Y/n,” Steve whispered. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

Her breath quickened as she met Steve's gaze. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind. Like he knew she made peace with the chance of not returning if it meant killing Vecna and any plan he had to destroy home and her loved ones.

“This is bigger than just us," Y/n reasoned. Steve kissed his teeth, frustrated. She gripped his hands tighter. "If Nancy’s right about what she saw, the whole of Hawkins could-“

“To hell with this shithole of a town," he scoffed. If the cost came at Y/n's life, it was never going to be worth it to him. Never. Steve narrowed his eyes. "If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”

Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember. All her life she had grown used to giving. Her time, her love, her kindness and her patience. There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.

Steve inhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure, as hard as it was. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, much less the last three years. Even so, he knew exactly where his breaking point was, or rather who it rested with.

“Vecna’s taken enough people. And if he takes you too, I don’t-" He shook his head, not daring to finish his sentence for fear it would speak the worst case scenario into existence. Instead, Steve squeezed “Just, please… promise me.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a new and strange sensation in her gut. For so long she had been hyper-fixated on her death- humouring the thought of it, wishing would come sooner and then fearing it would arrive too quickly. Now, all she wanted to do was come back and live to have another burger date with Steve at the lookout and then some.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 8PM

Steve and Y/n's first couple of hours in the house were spent wandering around and playing hangman while the Bee Gees played on the cassette they were borrowing from Eddie, until finally they found it.

She signalled for him to turn the music down and, while hesitant, Steve obliged. He gave her space to sit and try and lure Vecna out, but didn't stand too far away. Steve wanted a clear view of his girlfriend so he could begin timing from the moment her eyes turned grey. 15 minutes and the Bee Gees were to be back on and at full volume, not a second delayed.

Y/n sat down, placing her torch in front of her and crossing her legs. She was unsure where to begin. Hey Vecna it's me again, seemed an inappropriate start. She thought back to what he showed her and he said through the image of her dad, the very words that had been weighing heavily on her.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…."

The dark and horrid words he said and he accusations he made, all of which were too heavy for her to repeat aloud even to Steve. It took her a while to realise why they haunted her so much.

"Because it was true.”

Y/n hated every second of realising it, but there was no denying it anymore. Vecna was just echoing thoughts that already existed in her mind. She took a deep breath in and out. If she needed to make herself vulnerable, she knew just the thing to talk about.

“My dad was a ghost after my mom died," Y/n began, the lump in her throat growing as she continued to remember it.

The police at the doorstep explaining that there had been a car accident, the moment at the hospital, the funeral and the memorial he was too inebriated to show up for.

“He stopped looking after himself. Stopped looking after me. Then, he started drinking all the time, and then... he just became the worst.”

He was a shell of a person who came in and out of the house, most times without saying even a word to his daughter. Even so, Y/n remembered the few nights he came home and lashed out at her for no particular reasons more than she did the nights he said nothing at all. Her anger and resentment grew and grew over time with nowhere to go but inwards.

“It was true, I used to wish I had died when Sara and our mom died," she admitted, her eyes falling down to the floorboards. There was no shame in admitting it anymore. If Vecna infiltrated her mind, he would have already known.

Steve's grip on his torch was beginning to weaken. Y/n had told her bits and pieces of the same story, but never this part. He wondered how she was able to this to herself for as long as she did.

“I felt like- um," Y/n sniffled, briefly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before continuing. Steve did not like where this was headed. "I felt like maybe, to my dad, I was just a walking reminder of them, and of the fact that they were still gone... Maybe me living was just insult to injury.”

When Hopper did speak to Y/n in the years following his wife and Sara's death, he never called her a walking reminder in plain words. He didn't need to. His actions said more than enough.

“But then my dad sobered up,” Y/n continued, her tone and expression turning bitter. The day she had prayed for for years, and it came in a way that left her even more wounded and angry. “- and he cleared the heavy stuff out from the bathroom cabinet, and I thought things were finally turning around… But he was still awful to me.” 

Perhaps not in the same way. Hopper and her talked more often and he did not lash out at her as often as he did before, but he still found a way to neglect her and inadvertently let her know she was both an afterthought and a burden. And it hurt Y/n all the same.

“And so, I guess between that and watching him be a better parent to El, I just… I started to hate him," she confessed. The thought used to terrify her, but Y/n had since come to terms with the fact that there was no other way of putting it. “I hated that he was good to her. I hated how he made me feel like shit, and I hated how everyone praised him for getting clean.”

From the people at the station, at her school and even at the post office. All people saw was a grieving father father turn his life around for his daughters. Y/n resented it and, because of it, she resented her dad even more.

“Then, I started to realise… I hated him so much, I didn’t want him to be around anymore," she squeezed her eyes shut. The thought came to her over time, but when it did it was vivid. “I wanted him gone, so all the pain and anger could go too.”

Y/n wanted that more than anything. The anger and the pain was all she knew for so long, but she didn't want it anymore and didn't know how much longer she could carry it all.

“It got to the point where some nights, I wished my mom and my sister had never died and I wished he had instead. And I told myself that maybe it was ok to think that, because I…”

This was it, she thought to herself. This was what the tipping point.

“I could never imagine my mom doing this to me.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He never knew that- any of it, and it killed him she was only just talking about it now, in the Creel house attic of all places. When he opened his eyes and turned his focus back to Y/n, he realised she was still and silent but her eyes were wide open.

“Y/n?”

He waved his hand in front of her face, hoping for a reaction but there was nothing. Steve let out a huff and began to count in his head, trying not to think too much about whether the entire plan was a massive mistake.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 9:00PM

The first time Steve took her to the lookout. That was the good memory Y/n held onto and focused in on once she was sure Vecna had come for her. She was inside Steve's BMW when Vecna himself appeared, only to be sent flying backwards into the woods. Y/n got out and scanned the empty parking lot until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. She was instantly running towards it.

“Is it really you?”

Her head was shaven and she was dressed in white, but Y/n recognised her El. Her little sister. She placed her hand on the sides of El's face, touching and tugging it, unsure if she really was El or just another illusion.

The younger girl held her big sister's hands and smiled, “it’s me.”

Y/n scrunched her brows together, puzzled. She knew this time would be different, but she never expected to see El.

“How?”

“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”

The older girl blinked, unsure if it was worth questioning further.

“Are you… are you ok? Are you safe?”

El nodded and Y/n felt instant relief. She glanced back at the woods where Vecna would undoubtedly reappear from anytime soon, then turned back to El. There was a chance they might never see each other again, and Y/n could not get past it or past the one thing she had been dying to say to her- that she know she would regret not saying.

“El, I’m so sorry," Y/n cried, her words spilling out in a panicked hurry. "I’m so sorry for every mean thing I’ve ever done or said to you.”

It was the first few weeks after moved in and the weeks following Hopper's death. Y/n was frustrated, resentful, and angry which resulted in being less than kind to El, who was the least bit deserving of it. She needed her to know she was sorry.

“Y/n stop,” the younger girl pleaded, gripping her sister's arms and shaking her slightly. “Don’t think about it.”

It would only make her more vulnerable to Vecna, which was the last thing El wanted. Besides, she never cared about those moments. El had plenty of moments herself where she was the same to Y/n. The memories El held onto and treasured the most were the times Y/n looked after, cheered her. Those moments outweighed the bad ones by miles.

Y/n shook her head. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there was a decent likelihood it was her only chance at getting it off her chest.

“I never thought I’d get to have a little sister again," Y/n whispered. "I’m so lucky it was you, El.”

“I’m lucky too," the younger girl responded, not missing a beat.

Before anything more could be said, Y/n was lifted off the ground by dark vine-like tendrils outstretched from the woods where Vecna emerged from and began walking towards El.

“Y/n!”

The young girl screamed and lifted her hands, trying to fight back, but Vecna’s grasp on her sister only tightened. Y/n tried to fight it, but the tendril wrapped around her neck suffocated her windpipes. The last thing she saw was El, fighting with all her might to fend off Vecna. The last thought she had was was of how much she wanted and hoped for El to make it out ok.

Then she lost consciousness.

***

April 3rd, 1986 - 12AM

El was running and searching. Though still haunted by Vecna’s dying words, El could stand to worry about it later. First she needed to find her sister snd make sure was ok. El closed her eyes and focused, then she heard it— the sound of Steve screaming.

She could see where they were. She watched from a distance as Y/n’s levitating body come crashing against the floor beneath her. El started to run, praying Vecna hadn’t done irreparable damage.

There were gashes along her arms and legs and she was unconscious from the fall, but her limbs were still in tact and her eyes were unharmed. El let out a sigh of relief, counting it as a win.

“Y/n, Y/n wake up!” 

El watched Steve pull Y/n into his arms and shake her roughly, shout her name and begging her to wake up, but to no avail.

Panicked and desperate, the young girl placed her hand atop Y/n and closed her eyes, chanelling all her focus and power into guiding her big sister back to consciousness, back to her body and back into Steve’s arms.

Y/n’s life flashed before her eyes, only it was the good parts. The best parts. All her best memories with all the people she lived— her sisters, her parents, Steve and everyone in between.

Then she heard the faintest voice whisper to her.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Back in Hawkins, Steve tightened his embrace around his girlfriend’s unconscious figure, tears streaming down his face as he continued to call out Y/n’s name, desperate for her to wake up. The cassette player gave out and there was no telling when the ambulance Max called would arrive at the scene. Steve was willing to try anything, do anything.

“There’s a light,” he croaked, his voice coarse from the screaming and shouting. Even so, he owed to Y/n to keep going. “— a certain kind of light, that never shone on me.”

Y/n fingertips moved first, then her eyes and then lips.

“Steve?”

“Oh my god,” he cried out, tears flooding his eyes as he watched hers slowly blunk open. Relieved, Steve leaned down and kissed her temple fervently. “Oh my god, you’re ok!”

Y/n tried to moved her arms so she could sit up, but with every slight movement came a piercing ache in her bones and a burning sensation against her skin. She sunk back into Steve’s embrace and groaned painfully.

“Max already called for help, an ambulance should be here soon,” he explained.

She took deep breaths and glanced up at Steve, smiling weakly.

“You used to hate singing that song.”

“I think I’ve got a newfound love for it now,” Steve quipped, a faint laugh beneath his breath. That Bee Gees song saved his girlfriend’s life twice now. As far as Steve was concerned, it was the best song in existence.

Y/n’s eyes drifted shut as the energy it took to stay conscious came to be too much. Steve shifted his arms and stroked the side of her face.

“Hey, c’mon… Baby, you need to stay awake.”

She opened her eyes and used all the energy she had to stay alert, but the linger she stayed concious the more time she had to remember what had happened— what Vecna said to El about everything that would happen to Hawkins. Y/n began to pant as tears formed in her eyes.

“It’s not over, Steve,” Y/n whimpered. Vecna may be gone, but they weren’t out of the woods. “It’s not over yet.”

“It’s over for now,” he assured her. Whatever it was was not important. Not to Steve and not in that moment. All that mattered was that she did what she needed to do and she made it back alive.

***

April 6th, 1986

Y/n placed her last box of donations on the table. The older woman smiled gratefully and passed to one of the volunteers for sorting. She turned back to Y/n, her eyes darting towards the bandges along her arms.

“How are you healing?”

Y/n came to the shelter at the school gym for three reasons: to donte, to volunteer and to get bandages for her injuries.

“It doesn’t hurt or bleed as much.”

“That’s good,” the woman smiled, remembering how much Y/n was in when she came to get her bandages changed the first time. “Just be sure to take it easy until everything fully heals, ok? And come see me if anything gets worse.”

“I will,” Y/n nodded, “— and hey I’ll come by tomorrow with a few others to help out for the day.”

With more and more families turning up seeking shelter or supplies, Y/n knew they could use as many volunteers as they could get. The woman nodded gratefully.

“That would be really great, Y/n. Thanks.”

Y/n turned around and fished her keys out from her bag as she weaved through the cots and headed for the exit. She looked up and saw a young girl sitting next to an older man.

“How long are we gonna be here dad?”

Y/n frowned as she listened in. Seeing the kids that came to the shelter always brought a pain to her chest. She watched the old man wrap his arm around his daughter and sigh.

“I don’t know, bug,” he huffed.

Y/n froze for a brief second, then quickly sped off before anyone nlticed her staring. When she started the car and turned the steering wheel, Y/n’s hands were shaking. She listened to the radio the entire drive home and by the time she reached the driveway, Y/n was thinking about something else.

Y/n parked Steve’s car in front of the cabin. As she got out and approached the front porch, she was puzzled by the strange vehicle parked adjacent to the house.

When she walked inside, she saw Steve sitting on the couch and tossed him his car keys. Then, when she turned towards the kitchen, she saw a woman standing with her back towards her. Y/n’s bag fell from her shoukder and she went racing towards the woman.

“Oh my god, Joyce!”

The woman wrapped her arms around Y/n, hugging her tightly and then letting go so she could get a good look at her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Joyce smiled, placing her hand against Y/n’s cheek. She had a million burning questions.

“Wh-where’s El? And Will and Jonathan?”

“I-I don’t know,” Joyce answered honestly. “… I was in Russia.”

Y/n blinked, unsure if she heard her correctly. Of all the explanations for not answering the phone when she called before, Y/n was not expecting that to be it.

“You were what? How did you get here then?”

Joyce started grin and patted Y/n’s shoulder, which left her puzzled. There was something going on, but Y/n had a feeling Joyce was not going to outright tell her what it was, and she had no clue what to make of it.

“I’ll tell you later, honey,” the older woman answered, knowing there was something else far more important for Y/n to do. The girl knitted her brows together.

“Why not now?”

Joyce nodded her head towards the door to one of the bedrooms, her smile never faltering, not even for a moment. The woman’s demeanour left Y/n greatly unsettled but also extremely curious.

“There’s someone waiting for you in the room.”

***

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“Sorry Chris, I already have plans,” you explained to your best friend. She hummed, “Ah yes, with your mystery man.” Wiggling her eyebrows at you, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “When are you going to introduce me, or even tell me who it is?” she asked.

“When we’re both ready. It’s only been a couple months.”

“Exactly! A couple of months of my best friend seeing a guy I have no information about. I’m guessing he’s a douche or a nerd.”

“He’s neither. He’s kind and thoughtful and sweet to me. I really like him Chris.”

She awed at you, which made you roll your eyes. “Who are we talking about?” Jason. He appeared out of nowhere with a couple of his friends. Throwing his arm over Chrissy shoulder, he kissed her head. “Nobody,” you shrugged.

Walking down the halls you were ready to leave them. “Have fun at the party,” you said to the blonde girl. She pulled out of Jason’s hold and hugged you, whispering in your ear, “Call me tomorrow. Update.”

“You’re not coming to the party?” Jason questioned.

“Not this time. I’ll see you guys later,” you waved at them and wandered away.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You made your way to the drama room, knocking on the door lightly. “Come in,” a familiar voice said. Entering, you panicked slightly, you’d assume Hellfire was over, you were wrong. The group of boys gave you strange looks, minus the chocolate eyed metal head, sat in his throne.

“Y/L/N,” he began, “We’re almost finished. If you don’t mind sitting and waiting, I’ll get you your stuff.” You nodded, sitting down on a chair in the corner, plopping your bag by your feet.

The campaign didn’t last much longer, Eddie bringing it to an end with a cliffhanger. “Stop your whining,” he said to the younger boys, ushering them out of the room. “It gives you time to prepare, so I don’t get why you’re all moody.”

Shutting the door to them, he turned on his heel, instantly grinning at you. You matched it, chuckling slightly. “It’s a good thing I can come up with stories quickly, you almost gave us away Sweetheart,” Eddie spoke.

“I didn’t think they’d still be here Eds.” Standing, you walked over to him. He leaned back on the table slightly, allowing you to stand between his legs. “Look pretty, I like this” he smiled, tugging the hem of your jumper.

“Missed you today,” you said, brushing some stray curls out of his face. “Missed you too baby. Never leave me for a full day again,” he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. “I had practice Eds, big competition coming up.”

“I know, I know. How did it go?” he asked, kissing your neck lightly, before he lifted his head again. “It was good, I didn’t get dropped so, that’s always a bonus.”

“I know. Or you’d have Dr Munson waiting on you, hand and foot. Nobody wants that.”

“I could think of worse things than you doting on me,” you laughed.

“Oh yeah?” he said, leaning down so his lips ghosted yours. “Yeah.” Your lips were about to touch when the door burst open.

You didn’t have time to fully move away from one another, looking at the door you saw one of the Hellfire boys. Dustin. “Oh. I … umm … sorry, I uh left my notes,” he said, awkwardly grabbing his book from the table. “Sorry um, I’ll leave you to it. See you Monday Eddie.”

Before he could leave the room, Eddie called out, “Henderson.” The boy faced him, looking slightly panicked. “Yeah?”

“Not one word.” The younger boy gulped, nodding, “You got it. Didn’t see a thing.” The door clicked closed.

“We’re screwed,” Eddie said, rubbing his face.

“He’s going to tell his friends?” you asked, to which Eddie nodded. “Yeah and Lucas has been taken over by the dark side.”

You pinched his side, knowing what he meant. “Oh and am I on the dark side?” you asked, pinching him again. “No! You’re different, you’re sweet and kind.”

“Hmm okay, okay I get it,” you smiled slightly, showing him you weren’t mad.

“Seriously though, if Lucas knows, Carver will too. You sure you want people to know about you and the Freak?” he asked, seeming to close in on himself.

“Eddie,” you said softly, gently placing one of your hands on his cheek. He couldn’t meet your eyes, insecurities taking over. “Hey, come on baby, look at me.” He didn’t. “Please, wanna see those pretty eyes I love so much,” you said.

Slowly his eyes met yours, they were slightly glassy. “Let me down easy Sweetheart,” he almost whispered. “Let you down? What?” you questioned.

“I know you won’t want people to know about us, so just do it to me gently. Cause I really fucking like you.”

“Who says I don’t want them to know?” you cocked your head slightly. “Sweetheart your reputation-”

“Means nothing. I cheer because I find it fun, not for the popularity status, and honestly the only people I like in that group are Chrissy and well … Lucas,” you explained to him.

“Really?” he mumbled.

“Really Eds. I really like you, more than I’ve ever liked anyone. Never been so glad to be paired up on a project with someone,” you chuckled.

Remembering how during your 3rd study session you’d been laughing so hard and lost all focus. Ending up kissing until you couldn’t breathe anymore, chapped lips and messy hair.

“I just don’t want you to have to deal with the stuff those assholes say.”

“I don’t care what people say, or what they think. All that matters is what we say and what we think, right?”

He hummed. “Eddie, I wanna be with you. I really do, but if you’re nervous I understand, we can still take it slowly.” He frowned, and groaned slightly, “Don’t wanna have to take it slow. Wanna be able to hold your hand in the halls and kiss you.”

“Then we can do that babe,” you said, smoothing between his brows to remove his frown.

“You really want too?” he asked.

“I do. Monday, pick me up. We’ll walk in together. We can have lunch if you want, in the cafeteria or the woods if it overwhelms us. How does that sound?” you asked softly.

He nodded, pulling you closer to him and hugging you. “I really like you Y/N.”

“I really like you too Eds.” You stood on your toes slightly and pecked his lips. “We should get going, they’re gonna lock the school soon,” you mumbled against his mouth.

After one more quick kiss, he began to pack his Hellfire stuff away. As you were getting ready to walk out the door, you slid your hand into his. “I know the schools empty right now, but we can walk in the halls holding hands now, if you want?”

“Yeah. I’d really like that Sweetheart.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Morning,” you said, smiling as you climbed into Eddies van. “Morning Sweetheart,” he replied, leaning over and kissing your lips.

The drive wasn’t a particularly long one, Eddies favourite cassette was playing lowly in the background. He played with your hand as he drove, feeling his chunky rings knock against your knuckles.

You could tell he was on edge, so you squeezed his hand gently. You didn’t want to force him to talk, but you wanted him to know he could if he needed too. He gave you a small smile, looking back to the road. ‘Never wanna damage precious cargo,’ he’d say.

Pulling into the school parking lot, you could hear Eddies breath become shaky. “We don’t have to do this today,” you said softly, “Can try again another day.”

“No!” he almost shouted. “Sorry. I want to do this today, want people to know you’re my girl.”

“Oh I’m you girl?” you asked.

“W-well I umm … I was … what I mean to say is,” you laughed, cutting him off.

“Eds I’m kidding, I’m more than happy to be your girl.”

His cheeks reddened as he parked the van, giving you a shy smile. Which wasn’t a common Eddie thing. “We do this together baby,” you said to him, squeezing his hand once more. He squeezed back. “You ready Munson?” you asked.

“Ready Y/L/N.”

Kissing his lips softly, you let go of his hand and climbed out of the van. You went to put your bag on your shoulder, but Eddie took it from you, putting it on his own. Taking your hand he pulled you closer, kissing you again.

When he pulled away you couldn’t help but giggle. “You need to go to your locker or straight to class?” he asked.

“Locked, just to swap a couple books over, then we have English.”

“Great, let’s go,” he pecked your forehead and you headed towards the entrance.

You knew Eddie could feel the eyes on the pair of you, they were almost burning. Along with the whispers from nearly every person you walked past, good and bad. You squeezed Eddies hand to reassure him, which he did the same.

Pushing the door open for you both, the whispers only intensified when you walked through the semi-busy halls. You saw a couple of Eddies friends, Dustin being one, he was wearing a huge grin, throwing you a thumbs up.

Arriving at your locker, Eddie leaned beside you, holding your bag open. You heard loud and familiar chatter, walking around the corner you saw Chrissy, Jason and a few other cheerleaders and jocks.

Eddie tensed up and seemed to pull away from you. “Hey Y/N,” Chrissy said, wandering over to you, followed by the rest of the group. “Morning Chris,” you smiled. Placing more books into the bag Eddie still held, you smiled at him.

“You need something Freak?” Jason asked him, pulling a face of disgust. “Actually I-” Eddies voice didn’t seem to be working for him. “He’s waiting for me, aren’t you Eds?” you asked him, to which he nodded. You kissed him on his cheek, making him relax instantly.

“What the hell? Y/N are you sick in the head?” Jason almost yelled. You rolled your eyes turning to him, about to give him a mouthful, but your best friend beat you to it. “Jason just shut up! They’re happy! Eddies a sweet guy, leave them be, stop being such a jackass.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. Chrissy was polite and sweet 85% of the time, even you were in shock at her outburst. “That’s exactly what I was gonna say, so if you don’t mind Carver, I’ve gotta get my girl to class.” Eddie threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close.

You smiled at him and Chrissy, cheeks hurting. The blonde girl copied you, “See you later,” she mouthed, as you walked past her. “We did good babe,” Eddie said, leaning down to kiss you.

And it had remained that way, you and Eddie walking through the halls together. Sitting together at lunch, him often pulling you onto his lap. Stolen kisses when you were busy with cheer and him with hellfire. And nobody could say anything, you actually became one of the most loved couples in the whole school.

Not that you and Eddie cared, you only cared about one another. That’s all that matter. You adored one another.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“I know you do.”

Your eyes search for his glassy ones. “But this’ll pay for it. Another tour is a house, more than that.” Fame. You don’t say it.

His chest aches. He knows you’re right, and the thought of ripping you from the very thing you want the most tears him apart. He slides into your arms, needy for affection. Your hand glides from where it cradles his jaw to behind his head, holding under his other ear. It’s an intimate touch that has him hiccuping into your chest.

The gratefulness that he’s this comfortable being vulnerable around you is burdened by your guilt.

You’d had this conversation before. It had started with your confession that he deserves more, and ended with him in tears again because he only wants you. He can’t imagine children with someone who isn’t you.

You’d left it at that. He’d wait, however long it took, and be there when you were ready. He just wish it’d be quicker.

There had been three tours so far. Three sold out worldwide tours that Corroded Coffin had traveled, each one a little more taxing on Steve. He missed you. He didn’t like being apart from you for so long, didn’t like calling you and knowing you were on a pay phone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. It was never that. He just missed the intimacy of home life he’d get in between travels.

“Eddie said this album would make the history books.” You whisper. You hate buzzing thrill in your voice. “This tour could mean big things.”

His head doesn’t move from your shoulder, but his arms tighten. “Big things that make the wait longer?”

“Big things that insure our future, Stevie.” You breathe out. “Another tour is the type of money where we’d never have to work again.”

“But you’d miss it.” He shakes his head the most he can. He’s right, you would. He couldn’t do that to you.

This was all you’d ever wanted, and you’d finally gotten it.

“We can still make music, corroded coffin can still make music, and once we’re settled, I don’t see why another tour isn’t possible.”

He sits up out of your hold, imagining this future. Your nimble fingers reach up to wipe over his cheeks, uncaring of the snot the runs.

His breathing is in staggers. “You, me, baby Harrington.”

“Yeah, baby,” Your shoulders shake with soft laughs, a light in the dark atmosphere. “I can still be rockstar with a kid.”

He smiles, pictures of you on stage with a bump flash his mind. “Totally metal to be pregnant.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” You brush his hair from his eyelashes.

He blinks funny because of it. “And I could go with you.”

Your eyes lock. He’s only ever been with you for one. It was too much for him, too much movement. And it’d only been the states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’d like that.”

He nods back. He doesn’t want to miss you again. Missing you was the worst ache he’d ever endured. Many sleepless nights, many red eyes.

His tired eyes claw at you.

This argument started at ten and now your bedside clock reads midnight. You hate to even call it that. An argument. He hasn’t tried to stop you, to argue that you shouldn’t go. He’s just upset, rightfully so.

You stretch to your nightstand, pulling the string on your lamp. The room goes dark, silent besides his breathing. Laying down, you give him enough room to lay down beside you, his ear to your heart. Your fingers tangle in his hair. You let the silence envelope you before whispering.

“In two years.. we’ll buy your parents house,”

He nods quietly. “I’ll knock you up.”

Your chest rises in quiet giggles. His mouth turns up at the feeling of it. “You’ll knock me up. She’ll grow up with her uncle Dustin and aunt Robin.”

“She?” His eyes close.

“We’re having a girl.”

“Okay.” He wouldn’t mind being a girl dad.

You scratch his scalp. “She’ll go to Hawkins elementary, tour in the summer.”

He hums.

“It’ll work out.”

“Me and you.” He agrees.

There was one occasion when he thought he'd lost it and he was in such a state. He'd completely forgotten that on your list of errands for the day one of the to-do's was to get both of yours and Harry's rings cleaned and polished. He'd turned the house absolutely upside down looking for it. Harry had constant tears running down his face. He wanted to call you asking for help or for some comfort but he didn't want to upset you and he was determined to find it before you came home. He knew money wasn't an issue with replacing it but it was the sentimental value that it held, it was his bloody wedding ring.

He'd moved every cushion off from the sofa and checked every draw he had touched getting dressed, he'd even seen if he'd accidentally put it into your jewellery box. He'd already been searching for well over an hour and Harry knew you'd be home around two o'clock so he had about twenty minutes before shit was going to hit the fan.

He started to have a headache from all the stress and worry, he'd gotten himself rather panicky and Harry's breath began to shorten. He was filled with utter dread when the door swung open with your keys jingling in your hand.

Your cheery face dropped seeing your husband in such a state. Harry's eyes instantly looked at your hand, had they been stolen?

A small breath of relief left his throat knowing yours was okay and sitting beautifully against your finger.

His head dropped as he sat on the staircase and he let out a small sob, with his head falling into his hands. Highly confused you dropped your bags and keys and stepped forward quickly to embrace Harry.

He clung onto your clothes in tight fists scared to let go and have to look at you in the eyes. "H, what's wrong? What's happened, baby?"

You gently rubbed his back up and down hoping to steady out his breathing as his face hid in your stomach.

"m' so fuckin' sorry, m so sorry, you're gonna hate me so much"

His stuttering words naturally caused a pit in your stomach to drop, you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit you with nervous shakey hands you cupped either side of Harry's face to bring it up to look at you. For Harry not to phone you, was it so bad that he couldn't bring himself to speak to you?

His face looked a sickly shade of white, whatever he was about to tell you to was obviously it was swallowing him up. His eyes looked bloodshot and red from tears, and small little red dots had appeared on his forehead which only appeared when he was really really worked up and upset over something.

"I'm not going to hate you Harry, could never do that, hmm" you ran your thumbs against his cheeks trying to calm the situation as he let out small hiccups where he'd gotten worked up.

Growing more concerned you crouched down still holding onto either side of his face. Planting a soft kiss against his salty tear stained lips. Hesitantly not feeling deserving of a kiss Harry barely kissed back. Not being able to look at you in the eyes he reached out for your hand fiddling with your diamond. His mouth went dry and he let out a cough in an attempt to get the words out.

"' f'ink I've lost my wedding ring, m' so sorry Y/N I've looked everywhere I-"

"what do you mean Haz?" You sounded far too calm for Harry's liking he was ready to absolutely spill his heart out full of possible explanations and apologies "I've got it in my bag, you gave it to me? Went to go and get them cleaned"

He moved his arm so it was resting on his knee and brought his hand to his forehead rubbing his temples with relief. Of course, now he remembered, you'd spoken about it last week and he'd even taken it off himself before bed last night to give it to you for the morning.

-

Not wanting to ever repeat that feeling a few days later Harry had a thought.

He wanted it to be a surprise, he told a white lie that he had an appointment with Jeff early. Not being surprised by an early morning meeting something about time zones? When Harry kissed you goodbye you snuggled back into the warm bed and dozed back off with it being far too early for your liking.

Harry walked into the tattoo studio absolutely buzzing about what was soon going to be his new addition.

With it being the size it was it didn't take very long to do at all.

It was small, dainty but it would forever be a piece of you on his skin and he was obsessed with it.

It was known that Harry had names and initials for his family members tattooed all over his body, but he felt a warm fuzzy feeling knowing that your initial was now inked into his skin.

Harry probably looked like he was on something as he could not stop smiling. Driving back home he had the windows down in the car, music on full blast and was tapping the steering wheel to the beat.

When he opened the front door and found you in the kitchen cutting up some fruit, he snuck up behind you wrapping his arms around your torso and lifting you up for a hug before he planted multiple kisses all over the side of your face.

"Haz that tickles" he stopped his movements and grabbed your wedding ring hand and lifted it up in the air and twirled you around on the kitchen floor. "What has gotten into you, good meeting huh?"

Not answering you just yet he briefly swayed you both grabbing your cheeks and smushing you in for a kiss. You were like a giggly child at this point kissing him back. Harry was always affectionate but seeing him over affectionate like this certainly took you by surprise.

"very very good actually" harry grumbled against your mouth. He gave your face a few more pecks before releasing his hand on your face. He was now standing towering over you wiggling his eyebrows.

Being very confused by your husband's obvious scheming of something. You leant forward furrowing your eyebrows trying to read his face, hoping to get some sort of clue.

"Wha' " Harry giggled

Not believing him you asked, "what have you done"

"m' done nothin' "

"hmm want to explain why you've got that look on your face, know you too well Styles you should know that by now"

innocently your hand reached out to interlace your hand with Harry, which caused him to grit his teeth and wince. Tilting your head to one side you picked up Harry's hand and lifted it to your face.

"Wha' "

H responded to you briefly examining the slightly inflamed and clear-wrapped plastic around your Hubby's finger but he pulled it away before you really got to see what was underneath.

"Harry Edward Styles, why is there clingfilm wrap around your finger"

"Y/N don't full-name me turns me-"

Not falling for his attempt of a distraction you grabbed his finger lifting it up again once more bringing it closer to your face to study what Harry was 'hiding'

Right there in beautiful calligraphy font was your initial on his ring finger. The skin was slightly red from being fresh but it was perfect.

Using his spare hand Harry rubbed the back of his neck letting out a shy "surprise"

The room filled with silence as you were lost for words.

Harry's heartbeat picked up as he was growing worried about your reaction not being what he'd hoped.

Harry remained sheepish asking "do you like it?" He was struggling to fully see your face as it was still locked onto looking at his finger.

After you being frozen in that position for a few seconds Harry leant down in hopes to make eye contact "poppet?"

Your eyes were brimming with tears and your bottom lip felt like it was wobbly with emotion. Not knowing what to say at a time when words felt like they would fall short. You just nodded repeatedly and pulled Harry into you squeezing him into the biggest hug you could possibly give with every fibre in your body. Harry let out a boy-ish chuckle rubbing your back, not being the first one to ever break away from a hug when you were ready you pulled away looking up at him with watery eyes.

Melting at your tears Harry swiped a fallen one away "don't cry lovie, know it breaks my heart, makes me all soft" a lingering kiss was left on your forehead. There were a few moments of silence before you began to speak up again.

"you got a tattoo for me" your voice was quiet from being so touched by Harry's actions.

"mmh, got you with me always"

Harry continued to hold you as you looked down at his new addition "Fuckin' scared myself when I thought I lost me' ring, so- I just always want a piece of you on me"

"Harry that's-, I'm honestly lost for words that's so sweet, god I love you so much"

"should hope so I just had a needle jabbed into my skin to prove my love for you"

It didn't take long for the fans to notice the new ink, with it being in such a noticeable place. They'd always swoon over catching Harry fiddling with his ring and pressing a kiss against it on stage or during interviews. But now seeing your initial underneath it just added to it a whole new level.