* olivia *

divided by fandoms

* = smut. aka MDNI

stranger things masterlist

the boys masterlist

marvel masterlist (soon!)

(Soldier Boy x F!Reader)

Summary: Watching your husband defend you at a Vought party turns you on so much that you need him to fuck you now.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (unprotected p in v, public sex—they’re in a bathroom, m!receiving oral), established public relationship, good husband!ben, FLUFF but angsty at the end ngl, homelander and the deep existing is a warning as a whole.

a/n: this is heavily inspired by “Thank Goodness” from Wicked. great musical. watch it pls.

Vought would forever be your heaven turned hell. 

You still remembered the excited tears you spilled when you were accepted into The Seven, the happy squeals at the news that you would do most of Vought’s propaganda, and the butterflies in your stomach when Soldier Boy asked you out. 

But those happy memories were tainted by your cruel coworkers at The Seven, the humiliating, pervy stuff the marketing team had you do almost every week, and the pit in your stomach when Vought found out about your relationship with Ben and turned you into America’s sweethearts. 

Homelander was people’s favorite, their savior, their perfect hero… but Ben and you were the greatest symbol of love, the goal everyone desired to reach. 

The perfect, happy couple.

Your discreet dates turned to extremely photographed walks in the park; Ben’s soft kisses started being scripted for the fans to go crazy; and Vought even reached the point of forcing your wedding to be at Madison Square Garden with a whole audience full of celebrities and millionaires. 

Yet despite everything, Ben and you kept your genuine, profound love behind doors. They could take away what was supposed to be the most special day of your life, but they would never watch Ben and you dancing in your kitchen at one in the morning, or listen to the sweet promises he whispered in your ear every night as he hold you gently against his chest, or catch a glimpse of how devoted your husband really was to you…

Vought’s anniversary was one of the biggest events of the year, so of course everyone was expecting America’s couple to arrive hand in hand, kissing on the red carpet and waving at fans. 

Your gaze was lost in the tinted window, the only surface that separated the cruel world from your precious life. 

Ben noticed your frown and kissed your temple. “You look beautiful, doll.”

The car turned right, nearing Vought’s tower and making you clutch the car seat. 

Ben placed an arm around you. “We will only be there for around two or three hours. Then we will… eat some of your favorite food.”

You looked up at him. “McDonalds?”

He smiled softly and nodded. “We’ll get a twenty McNuggets combo and finish that awful reality show you love at home.”

“Love Island?” Your hand searched for his and squeezed it. “How did you know there is a new season?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Because you’ve talked about it every day for the past two weeks?”

You giggled and kissed his nose. “Did I?” 

He caressed your cheek before diving down to your lips. You pulled back. “Careful with the lipstick!”

Ben sighed but forced a smile. Right, you had to look perfect for the cameras. For the fans. For the entire world. 

The limousine stopped at Vought’s tower, right at the start of the red carpet. 

Ben grunted at the sight of the multitude. “They could be normal and watch from their televisions or from that small square you all carry.”

He was a phone hater.

As he was about to open the door, you grasped his wrist hard. “W-wait!”

Ben turned to you, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

The worried frown decorating his handsome face made your stomach drop. Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were dating such a beautiful man.

“I love you.” You gulped and caressed his arm. “Just… needed to say it.”

He felt a pang in his chest, those three words always causing his heart to race. Ben kissed your forehead before murmuring, “I love you too, princess.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself and clutching your tiny purse. Ben huffed as he finally pushed the door open. The second he stepped out into the cold night air, thousands of flashes bombarded him. It seemed as if everyone had been expecting this moment.

Ben got out first, waved casually at the cameras, and turned to you, offering a hand. You made a show of just showing your manicured hand first. Your recognizable diamond ring made fans scream.

Your husband helped you out of the limousine, gently holding your waist as he closed the door behind you. The flashes seemed to duplicate in your presence. 

“Y/N! Y/N!”

”Soldier Boy, over here!”

“We love you!”

You chuckled charmingly as you waved and sent kisses. “We love you too!”

Vought was a vicious company and you felt used most of the time, but you couldn’t deny you loved these moments, these showers of attention and love. There were people crying at the sight of you, dressed with your superhero suit, wearing shirts with your face… Most of them had probably camped for hours outside of the tower just to get a glimpse of you.

How could you ever let go of this level of stardom?

Ben’s big hand caressing your waist brought you back to reality. While you were smiling and posing for the cameras, his green eyes were focused on you. Still getting giddy by his devoted stare, your cheeks turned red. 

“What is it?” you asked with a shy smile.

He shook his head and pulled you closer to his side. “Nothing.”

Ben sighed and finally posed for the cameras too. He knew that even though he was one of the first superheroes, you were the people’s favorite. Their Princess Diana. He could pretend people were excited for him, but deep down he knew the popular one was you. 

And, honestly, he didn’t mind it, you deserved all the adoration and love. But he still felt a bit territorial and protective when people got too close.

He came from a different time. Sharing you with the world was something he would never get used to or be okay with. You were his wife, his woman… but Vought had gotten their hands on you before him, so now you were a superhero, a model, a socialite, an actress, an icon, and anything they wanted you to become.

Ben grew up in a different society, one that made him an angry, explosive mess. A society that taught him that he was destined for greatness and fame. But when he met you, he turned into a completely different person. The simple idea of hurting you, of treating you like an object, or of disrespecting you caused a shiver to run down his spine. He didn’t understand how people could look at you and exploit you.

You… beautiful, sweet, caring you.  

He never hid that he would kill for you. He would destroy everything and everyone in Vought if you asked for it. But this was the life you had wished for… 

As a security guard led you through the red carpet to the tower’s lobby, a paparazzi managed to jump over everyone and approached you with his blinding flashes. 

“Y/N, Soldier Boy! When will you be back to Keeping Up with The Seven—”

“Back the fuck off!” Ben yelled, quickly getting in front of you to shove the man away. 

More Vought security guards swarmed over and dragged the paparazzi away.

You had a hand on your chest and one on Ben’s arm, slightly paralyzed by how they were treating the man. Well, he could’ve been dangerous, but it still left a bittersweet feeling. 

“Are you okay?” Ben whispered and cradled your face.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

Ben kissed your temple and you could already see the tweets: “Oh, he saved her! He is such a great husband! I need a man like Soldier Boy!” 

“Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold,” he said, reaching for your hand to lead you to the lobby’s elevator. “Last thing I need is to play nurse again.”

“Wait!” You stopped and took a quick, impulsive decision.

Bunching up your gown, you ran towards the fans and signed pictures, took selfies, and even kissed a puppy. You could feel your husband’s worried eyes on your back but you didn’t care. These people literally made you the most followed person on every social media platform.

”Y/N, how is Soldier Boy in bed?!” a brave fan asked.

Normally, you would’ve ignored her, but she was recording you directly to the face and you never lost a chance for a viral video. 

You chuckled and pretended to be shy. “Y’all are crazy! But between us… there is one big reason I didn’t hesitate saying yes to that ring, girl.”

Everyone screamed excitedly at your answer. Oh, thank goodness Ben hated social media and would never see that video.

He looked serious as you walked back to him with an apologetic smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he muttered before placing an arm around you. Then he whispered in your ear, “Don’t fucking do that again, okay?”

You forced a smile and pinched his cheek. “You’re peachy today, aren’t you?” 

Ben smirked at your annoyed tone. “And you’re bratty today.” His hand wandered to your lower back, not quite reaching your butt. “What happened to my good girl?”

“Don’t start,” you mumbled. 

He would always tease you in the worst moments. At least this time you weren’t in the middle of a combat… and it wouldn’t end in you giving him a blowjob on an abandoned rooftop… again.

The elevator ride was swift but nerve-wracking. Now that the fans’ part was over, came the worst part of the night: dealing with your peers.

The event’s salon was all marble and glass with Vought’s logo everywhere. It was packed with wealthy businessmen, celebrities, superheroes, and more big names.

Ben glared at the crowd with disdain, not trying to hide his dislike. 

Not even half a step in, people noticed you two. Everyone tried to start a conversation with you as Ben dragged you across the crowd to the bar. You faked smiles and shook hands, trying not to be as rude as your husband.

As soon as you reached an empty spot, Ben placed an arm around you to create a wall between people and you. “Enough talk. The lady’s thirsty.”

You leaned on the bar and looked up at him. “You could’ve greeted the president.”

Ben grimaced. “Why would I do that?” He ordered a glass of whiskey for himself and a margarita for you.

You were in the middle of a joke when a different type of piercing eyes met yours. Not adoring in the slightest. A stare full of cold, hard jealousy and hatred.

Ben noticed the sudden tension in your body and followed your gaze. He went stiff too at Homelander’s attention.

He grumbled and turned back to you. “What does that bastard want now?”

You gulped. “I don’t know, but he’s coming this way.”

Ben grunted, taking a long sip of his drink. He had never tolerated Homelander, but his disdain grew when the supe made obvious his disapproval of your relationship, laced with his dislike for you.

“Father,” Homelander greeted him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glared at you. “You look lovely tonight, Y/N.”

”She does,” Ben mumbled, his arms snaking around your waist to engulf your body. “Most beautiful woman in every room.”

Homelander sneered but quickly masked it with a fake smile. “What happened to your suits? Laundry day?”

Apart from your status and beauty, Soldier Boy and you stuck out like a thumb for your lack of superhero uniforms. Vought knew that pictures of everyone’s favorite supes with dashing outfits would be trending, so they sent a green tuxedo for Ben and an emerald gown for you.

You placed your hands on your husband’s shoulders and joked, “I think the dress code memo got lost in the mail.”

Ben smirked. “Seems like it, honey.”

Homelander’s eyes wandered down your body for a little too long before they snapped to Ben. “Then my multiple meeting invitations must have gotten lost too, huh?”

Ben kissed your cheek, making a show of not looking at his son. “Mhm, most likely.” He bit your jaw playfully. “I’m never really in the mood for leaving our bed.”

You blushed and giggled at his sexual innuendo. “Honey!”

Homelander’s deep, long sigh was a call for their attention. “So… I heard you’re giving this year’s speech.”

Ben noticed your stillness and swiftly caressed your back. You muttered, “Yeah, I will.”

The blond supe scoffed and muttered, “That’s so weird since I’m the one that always does it.”

Your husband was starting to lose his peanut-size patience. “Sometimes we don’t get chosen and we have to suck it up and move on, don’t we?”

Homelander stared at him quietly for a long second, then patted his father’s back and faked a big, predatory smile. “Have fun, you two.”

And he stormed away like an irritated child, his cape flowing behind him. You felt your soul coming back to your body. 

“You know he won’t hurt you, right?” Ben whispered. “Boy’s too needy for my approval that he won’t ever lay a hand on you.”

You gulped, your eyes still on Homelander’s back. “Maybe not him, but he has an army of idiots following his every order.”

Ben sighed and pecked your lips. “Don’t think about that right now. Last thing you need is more stress tonight.”

A second margarita was delivered by the bartender, who gave Ben a flirty smile. He didn’t look at her as he grabbed the glass. “You’re drinking too fast.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you blame me?”

Ben sipped the margarita and grimaced. “This tastes like a gasoline store’s lemonade, honey. How can you drink this shit?”

Playing with his tie, you jokingly replied, “Are you saying I have bad taste?”

He huffed and cockily arched an eyebrow. “I mean, clearly you don’t since I’m your husband.”

You snickered and kissed his cheek. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Ben grabbed your wrist as you reached for your purse. He looked at you with wide eyes. “Don’t leave me alone,” he mumbled. “Honey…”

You frowned at your antisocial husband. “I’ll be right back. Go talk—”

”Nooo,” he whined, looking around to make sure no one could hear him. Various people were still staring at them in awe. “They will come to me like vultures. I’m too sober for this.”

“I told you to do a line with me in the car and you refused like the boring bitch you’re becoming.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m trying to be more responsible… and I mentally scheduled that line for midnight.”

You shrugged and freed yourself from his hold. “Too late. I’ll do another one and come back.”

”Don’t finish the bag,” he called weakly as you walked away to the main hallways.

The second you were far enough from him, people started to approach him like nervous, sorta-scared fans. He posed for pictures with a stoic face, mentally cursing you for leaving him alone so early.

Being good at playing the sweet celebrity card also meant knowing how to avoid crowds. You knew Vought Tower all too well, so naturally, you went to the farthest bathrooms. 

You swung the door open to the posh women’s restroom and checked every stall. “Empty,” you sang and excitedly took out your bag of coke. 

It was boring doing it without Ben, but he had recently started using weed to relax. You weren’t complaining much; more coke for you.

You did the line, wiped away all evidence from the counter, and washed your hands. Faint music from the party reached your ears as the bathroom’s door opened. You barely glanced up as a hooded person came in.

Not caring much, you dried your hands and started fixing the lip combo that your husband’s kisses had messed up.

The figure stepped closer, leaning against the wall near you. They still hadn’t said anything, just stared at you with an unsettling intensity.

You side-eyed them. “Hi?”

They pushed the hood back and revealed your least favorite person, The Deep. “‘Sup,” he greeted you with a smirk.

You sighed and continued with your makeup. “Didn’t you read the sign on the door?”

He looked you up and down. “Mid dress, by the way. Are you on a mission to be a flop all year?”

Ignoring his words, you muttered, “What do you want?”

The Deep and you had never gotten well. He tried to hit on you at the start, but after humiliating him a couple of times in front of the team, he placed you on his enemies’ list. So you were absolutely sure he wasn’t there to gossip or giggle with you. 

“I heard you’re giving tonight’s Vought speech,” he said between gritted teeth. “Who did you fuck to get that, huh?”

”Let’s see…” You bit your lip, pretending to be deep in thought as you counted with your fingers. “The executives from the twentieth floor, Noir, the lobby guy, all the marketing team and, yeah, basically everyone… except an octopus.”

His hands turned to fists as his face turned pink. “Watch your mouth.”

You smirked, always happy to rile him up. “I didn’t need to move a finger to get tonight’s speech. I’m the most famous Supe. What did you expect?”

The Deep’s jaw dropped. He seemed genuinely shocked for about ten seconds. “Are you serious? Like, seriously serious, dude?” He gestured to himself. “I am the most famous Supe in the whole world. Have you seen me? I’m handsome, rich—”

“Add comedian to the list,” you interrupted him with a sarcastic smirk.

He placed a hand on his hip. “I’m the fucking Deep, sweetheart. I have endorsements with Wendy’s and Old Navy. I’ve been in magazines. Meanwhile, you…” He scoffed. “You’re nothing without Soldier Boy. You’re just a hot housewife and a slutty puppet.”

You could feel your powers trembling inside you from the rage. He was completely wrong and just pushing your buttons, but you weren’t known for your patience.

“I’m the most followed person on Instagram and I’ve been on Vogue. Lie to yourself all you want. Nothing will change the fact that people love me while they just tolerate you.”

The Deep’s nostrils flared. “Love you? I haven’t seen you on most of this year’s red carpets, though.” 

You couldn’t believe you were arguing with him about something that stupid. “I’m invited to everything, fried fish. I just prefer to spend time with my husband and loved ones… something you obviously don’t have.”

He inhaled as your words hit him. “Love…” He let out a fake chuckle. “You think that’s some kind of flex? Love only makes you weak.”

The drugs were starting to affect your system. You placed your makeup in your purse. “You think I’m weak?”

The Deep looked down at you with condescending confidence. “Sure do. Without powers, you’re nothing but a good pair of tits and—”

You raised one of your arms to send him flying across the bathroom. He crashed into the wall, his body slamming against it hard enough to crack the paint. 

The Deep groaned as he slid down to the floor. “You little…” he whimpered, struggling to breathe. “Little bitch. I’ll get—”

Not wishing to listen to his pathetic rambling anymore, you walked out of the bathroom. Your heart was pounding like crazy and it definitely wasn’t from the coke.

You weren’t an idiot; you knew where The Deep and you had been standing: in the perfect, water-full place for him to use his powers. So you had no other option than to attack first and hard.

Ben was still in the bar, clutching his whiskey while surrounded by people. The second you re-entered the party, as if pulled by nature, his eyes found yours. But the relieved smile didn’t make it to his face.

Something was wrong; he noticed instantly.

Without hesitation, Ben excused himself from the group and walked straight to you. He gently grabbed your arm and studied your face. “You okay, princess?”

You tried to force a smile, but it wavered. “Hi. Yes, don’t worry.”

He squinted his eyes, noticing the tension in your expression and the slight flush in your cheeks. “What happened?”

Your hands found his shoulders. “Honey, you don’t wanna know.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m fine.”

Ben frowned, clearly not believing you. He had heard that lying tone from your stubborn mouth before. “Tell me,” he insisted. His hands cupped your face as he whispered, “You’re upset, doll.”

His firm (not angry… never angry at you) voice pulled your heartstrings. You gulped and mumbled, “The Deep appeared randomly, said some shitty things and we ended up fighting.”

Ben’s face darkened, his ears turning deaf to every voice but yours. “What did he say?”

“It’s not impor—”

“What did he say, Y/N?” he cut you off.

You sighed, stressed. “Classic Deep stuff, Ben. Called me a slut and—” 

“That motherfucker…” he growled under his breath. 

Without another word, Ben let go of you and marched out of the party. He knew which bathroom you usually took for coke breaks, so he didn’t look back as he planned many ways to make The Deep regret ever speaking to you. 

“Ben, stop,” you muttered, following behind him and trying not to trip on your heels. “C’mon, let’s go back—”

The ladies’ room door opened as The Deep walked out, limping. He noticed your angry husband walking towards him and quickly scurried back inside.

Ben kicked the door open and wasted no second in throwing Deep to the ground. Just in case the sea boy tried anything, you used your telekinesis to control all the pipes in the room.

Ben grasped Deep’s collar and slammed him against the floor. “Who do you think you are, huh?”

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Deep cried.

Your husband punched him hard enough to draw blood and screamed to his face, “I should kill you for even daring to speak to my girl.”

Deep was sobbing now. “I won’t do it again. I swear!”

Ben wanted to throw more punches, but he couldn’t kill Deep tonight, so he just kicked him in the balls. 

“You’re pathetic.” He pulled him up and threw him out the door. “Get the fuck off this party.”

You let your guard down as silence filled the bathroom. Ben sighed and washed his bloody hands on the sink. The sight caused your thighs to press together… and he noticed. 

Ben closed the tap and smirked at you. “Really? Now?”

You bit your bottom lip and shrugged. “That was… something.”

The sexual tension was thick as you just stared at each other. Then, impulsively, you held onto his shoulders as his hands propped you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed you to the wall and attacked your mouth hungrily and carelessly. 

Bunching up your dress, Ben held you with one hand and wasted no time to move your panties with the other. He smirked against your lips. “So wet already. Did watching me beat that idiot turn you on?”

You clutched his shoulders at the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Y-yes. Fuck. You look so hot when you defend me.”

Ben snorted and pulled his hand back. “That’s why you’re always dripping for me like a damn fountain.”

You twitched your hips, desperate for contact. “Ben…”

But he gently lowered you to the ground. “I think I deserve a thank-you gift for tonight, right, princess?”

Despite the lust clouding your mind, you understood his words and quickly got on your knees. Ben helped you unclasp his belt as your trembling hands tried to push it all down. 

Once his boxers freed his painfully hard cock, you looked up at him. “Did beating Deep turn you on?” you joked. 

Ben rolled his eyes and grasped your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “Honey, I’ve been hard since you came out of our room in that dress.”

You smirked and grabbed his cock. There was no time for slowness, so you opened your mouth wide and took as much as you could. Ben groaned loudly and tightened his grip. You held onto his strong thighs and moved as fast and deep as his big size could let you. 

Sucking Ben off had always been a challenge, but in the last six months, you had gotten on the mission of trying to deepthroat him. It was inhumanly possible, but now you could at least reach the middle without suffocating to death. 

Ben looked down at you lustfully as you pleased him with devotion. “Just like that, princess. You’re doing so good.”

You pulled back until his tip reached your tongue, dived in until your jaw hurt, then repeated the cycle. Ben had to use all his willpower to not come right there and make you swallow it all. Seeing you do your best effort to please him, in a public bathroom at a party, was too much for him. 

“Such a pretty mouth. So perfect,” he groaned. “But I need to come inside that pussy, baby. Get up.”

Disappointed by the interruption, you pulled away from his cock and stood up with wobbly knees. “I was almost reaching the base.”

Ben kissed your forehead. "I know, sweetheart. You were doing great, and we’ll continue that at home.” 

He took off his jacket and placed it next to the sink. You bit your lip at the sight of his firm muscles pressing through his white shirt. You pulled your husband by his tie and kissed him passionately. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed his hard-on against you. 

“Need you so bad, doll,” he mumbled. “Please.”

You pecked his lips and pointed to your discarded purse on the floor. “Grab a condom.”

Ben pouted and caressed your waist. “Baby... c’mon. I need to feel you,” he begged. He kissed your jaw and neck, looking for your weak spot. “Need to feel my wife coming as I fill her up.”

You moaned as he kissed you right below your ear. You had gotten back to birth control for this exact reason: Ben's infinite need to fuck you raw.

“Alright,” you muttered. “Just because you look so handsome tonight.”

Ben propped you up and aligned himself to your entrance. “Only ‘cause of that?”

You gasped at the warm feeling of his tip. “And... because you are the best husband ever?”

Ben pushed in just a centimeter. “Try again.”

You hated how cocky he could get during sex, but you couldn’t lie that he was an expert at making you desperate. 

“And because I love when your cock fills me up— Oh!”

Ben slammed into you swiftly, thanks to how wet you were. 

You whined and slapped his shoulder. “That hurt!”

He pouted mockingly. “Sorry. Too big?” He pulled back until the tip was almost slipping out of you. “Thought you could handle it by now, honey.”

He pushed in half-way slowly and elicited a moan out of you. “I c-can. I've had bigger,” you whimpered.

Ben scoffed, knowing you were lying but still getting a little jealous. He held you firmly by the thighs, got you off the wall and started pounding into you. Your husband could have placed you on the counter, but he wanted to show you how he can fuck you while only using his strong arms as support. 

And, fuck, it turned you on badly. 

You placed your arms around his neck and moaned uncontrollably as Ben manhandled you into him. His effort grunts against your lips were making your pussy clench. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby…” you moaned. “Yes, right there!”

He bit your lip and squeezed your left thigh. “You feel so good, doll. Best pussy I’ve had.”

You smirked, realizing your previous comment about other men had struck a nerve. “Yeah? That’s why you married me?”

Ben nodded as he sped up. “Can’t let other men touch you. You’re mine forever, princess.”

You messily pushed down your cleavage, needing him to kiss you everywhere. The moment your breasts spilled out of the dress, your husband lowered his lips to your nipples. You threw your head back at the feeling of his tongue encircling them. “Oh, God!”

Ben squeezed your thighs hard to get your attention back. “Eyes on me. Say you're mine.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned. “F-forever. I’m never leaving you.”

Ben smirked as he noticed you were entering a submissive headspace. “Bet you would let me lock you home to keep you like my personal whore.”

You whined and nodded. “Y-yes.”

“No other job but letting me fuck you dumb.” 

Your pussy clenching hard around his cock was answer enough. He grunted and drove rougher into you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Y/N? Are you here—?”

You two barely registered when the bathroom door was opened by a stressed-looking Ashley. She froze at the sinful sight. Her eyes lowered to where your bodies connected and she smirked. “Damn.”

You looked to your right and frowned. “Oh, hi. You need s-something?”

Ben shifted you up to leave hickeys around your breasts. 

Ashley blinked and struggled to look into your eyes. “Uhm... It’s time for your speech. Everybody is waiting.”

You moaned as Ben sucked your left nipple. “Gimme t-three.”

“Five,” Ben grunted. 

Ashley nodded, took one last glimpse at his enormous size splitting you open, and left in a hurry. Now she understood why you had married him after just a year of dating…

Ben held you in one arm, finding a comfortable position to keep fucking you without support, and rubbed your clit with his free hand. “Come for me. I can tell you’re close.”

You arched your back and kissed his face messily. “D-don’t stop. Right t-there.”

Ben rubbed you in a practiced way as he searched for your lips. “Come around me like the good girl you are.”

You whimpered, trembling as the waves of pleasure hit you. Your vision turned blurry and your lower body shook as Ben kept pounding into you. “Just like that, doll. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.”

You nodded pathetically. “I love you. Come where you deserve to.”

Ben smirked, your words squeezing his heart, and kissed you softly. “Love you too, baby.” He let out a loud grunt as he let go deep inside you. “Fuck!”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder when he finally stopped moving. “Holy shit…”

Ben walked to the sink counter and gently placed you on it. Both of you whined as he pulled out, his cum dripping out of you and staining your dress. 

"Shit!" Ben looked around for napkins, then took a quick decision and sank two fingers into you. 

You whimpered at the overstimulation. “Ben, no. I have to go.”

“I know,” he muttered and reached for paper towels with his free hand. “Sorry for not wanting your dress to get ruined.”

He slowly pulled away his fingers and replaced them with the napkins. He cleaned you gently and readjusted your underwear. “There you go.”

You were still panting as your husband put on his jacket and picked up your purse. Realization sinked in and you slowly turned to look at your reflection.

You were a fucked mess. 

You groaned and stood up. “How am I gonna give a speech looking like this?”

Ben frowned and readjusted your cleavage. “You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t! Give me my purse,” you whined. 

With napkins and water, you tried to fix your makeup while Ben helped with your hair. 

Ashley knocked. “It’s been ten minutes!”

Your husband started cursing her, but you stopped him. “I’m ready!”

Your reflection wasn’t as perfect as before, but you looked acceptable. 

Sensing your insecurity, Ben hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek. “You’re still the most beautiful woman at this party.”

You smiled lovingly at him. “Only this party?”

He huffed and playfully squeezed one of your breasts. “Saying ‘in the world’ was too corny.”

You teasingly pressed your back to his front before freeing yourself. “Let’s go before Ashley offers a threesome.”

Ben grimaced at the thought and followed you out. 

Like the woman had said, everyone was waiting around the main stage. Cameras and lights were pointing at the microphone stand. 

“Remember,” Ashley whispered. “Read the teleprompter. Don’t improvise. Orders from the high-ups.”

You reached the side of the stage with Ben holding your hand. Even though you were the speech deliverer, Ben had to enter with you to remind people that he was a supportive, perfect husband. 

He squeezed your hand. “Don’t overthink it. Just another day at the job.”

You forced a smile. “Mhm.”

“And now, some words from our dear Y/N!”

The crowd went crazy as you two entered. Ben walked you to the microphone, kissed your temple, and stood a few steps to your left. The teleprompter behind the camera started running. 

You smiled perfectly and read, “Hello, everyone! Hope you’re having a great night. I sure am and it’s all thanks to Vought. Let’s give them a round of applause!” 

Everyone followed your order like a trained flock. 

“Fellow Americans, as terrifying as the Starlighters’ actions have become recently, let us put aside our panic for tonight and celebrate our wonderful Vought.”

People applauded again. You took off the microphone and walked around the stage as you discreetly kept reading. 

“I speak for all Supes when I say that we couldn’t be happier. This year we’ve done so much together to fight evilness, and it’s all from the goodness of our hearts and our wishes to help all of you.” You point at the camera. “And we’ll keep doing it with a wide smile. Because thanks to Vought, we are living our dreams. For example, me. Thanks to Vought I found the love of my life.” 

You followed the teleprompter’s orders to smile at Ben and leave three seconds of silence for cheers. He just smiled politely to the camera. You walked to him and placed a hand on his chest as his arm found his usual spot around your waist. 

“Thanks to Vought, I found my other half, my perfect, thoughtful, kind, most handsome husband. And—” you gulped as you tried to not let the next words affect you. “And maybe we will get our perfect finale soon by…” You touched your belly. “Expanding the family.”

Ben's smile wavered, but people were too excited to notice. He soothed your waist discreetly as he cursed Vought and whoever wrote the teleprompter’s script. 

A while ago, you both had agreed to avoid having children while being Vought’s trained dolls. Ben would rather die than have his kids be Vought's products too. But if they had constructed your wedding as a big marketing show and had made you say this in front of millions of viewers... they were definitely brewing some plans for your love story’s next chapter. 

You kept talking but not really processing the words as you used all your energy into not crying. 

“... and that’s why my Soldier Boy and I are so thankful for Vought. Right, dear?”

He cleared his throat and replied to the mic, “Of course, honey.”

'FAMILY-FRIENDLY KISS' said the prompter. Ben hesitantly leaned down to kiss you. People were eating it up with cheers and hoots. 

But you two... you knew what this kiss represented; it was the seal of it. The signature to your contract. And the speech was a wake-up call to both. You could miss red carpets and events; could go to the beach and the mountains; could try to have a normal married life, but at the end of your day, Vought was the one in control. 

Vought was the one making decisions, and if they wanted you dead, alive, or pushing babies... you would obey. 

“I love you,” Ben whispered for your ears only. Three words that were a promise: that no matter what Vought did, he would always be by your side. 

You smiled weakly and intertwined your fingers. “I love you too.”

He kissed your hand, not for reactions, but so you could know how much you mean to him. 

Ben wouldn’t react to Vought’s silent threats; he wouldn't destroy the party and run away. He was planning his next move quietly because he was determined to not let that sad spark remain in your eyes. 

He would find a way to save you from Vought. This was the end of being nothing but their products. 

From now on, It was only you and him.

* = smut

• my woman * summary: Ben is trying to be a good boyfriend and hold back his possessive instincts. But it’s difficult to control himself when men like The Deep cross lines.

(Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Ben is trying to be a good boyfriend and hold back his possessive instincts. But it’s difficult to control himself when men like The Deep cross lines.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (unprotected p in v, riding, doggy—various positions, idk, they’re horny—, choking, spanking, deepthroating, big d ben ofc, degrading words, one use of ‘daddy’), ben is kinda rough and caveman-like but he is trying to be nice(?), toxic masculinity, gaslighting, kinda-toxic established relationship, reader being sexualized af, kinda fluffy yet angsty sometimes, the Deep being annoying, and consumption of drugs.

Being part of The Seven was one of the worst things that could’ve happened to you. After replacing the “treacherous” Starlight, Vought’s marketing sexualized you to the fullest extent. 

It started with your small, tight costume, which left nothing to the imagination; one wrong movement and your boobs could spill out mid-fight. Then came the innocent commercials with sexual innuendo… You were haunted by the commercial where you were “playfully” moaning and whining while getting covered in glue. 

In every film, TV show, and even fucking TikTok videos, you were used as a sex icon to attract perverts. What even was the point of a shirtless scene in a movie about The Deep and you fighting the Mexican cartel? 

And, of course, Vought tried to set you up in a PR relationship with Homelander. You were sure they would’ve gone with Deep if he hadn’t been married already. But in all honesty? It would be a nightmare to pretend to date either of them.

The false relationship didn’t work—thank goodness—since Homelander couldn’t stand spending more than five minutes close to you. And who were you to complain? You had the daily mission of avoiding Homelander and your fellow Seven members as much as possible. 

But everything changed when he returned. 

You had no doubt that Soldier Boy would be just as obnoxious and evil as his dear son, Homelander. But then you noticed the long, quiet glances your way, the stammering over his words every time he tried to talk to you, and the respectful, gentle way he treated you. 

Only you, though. He was horrible to anyone else who tried to start a conversation with him.

Being brought back to life for a second time had changed Soldier Boy’s perspective on many things. He hadn’t loved anyone in years, and he wanted to do things right with you…

A YEAR AGO…

You entered your Vought apartment and let out a long, tired sigh. After being the face of this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, all you wanted to do was lie in bed and eat a thick hamburger. You took off your robe, the expensive lingerie, and the painfully high heels to take a cold shower.

Bathed and comfy, you returned to your living room. It was so full of gifts and flowers that it was difficult to walk around them. There were roses, lilies, tulips, orchids... but you were looking for a specific set of sunflowers. A bouquet you had been receiving every day for the past two months. 

They never came with cards or clues as to who your secret admirer was, so you appreciated them much more. There were no ulterior motives behind them; someone simply wanted you to have flowers every single day.

You had spent almost twenty minutes frantically walking around your living room when a soft knock on your door stopped you. You looked at the time on your phone: almost midnight. 

What the fuck?

After grabbing a kitchen knife, you opened a fraction of the door.

Looking at the floor and with his hands behind his back, stood a normally-dressed Soldier Boy.

Your body relaxed at the lack of threat. “Oh, hey. What’s up?” You looked him up and down. “I’ve never seen you out of your suit—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you remembered your current attire: Hello Kitty pants and a baggy Star Wars shirt. You discreetly hid half of your body behind the door. 

Soldier Boy glanced up and tried to smile. “H-Hey. Uhm, sorry if it’s too late. I just…” He cleared his throat. “I dozed off while waiting for you to come back, but I just heard you pacing around.”

You grimaced. “Right. You’re next door. I’m sorry. Was I too loud?”

He firmly shook his head. “Not at all. My apartment is just… too quiet, I guess.” His eyes dropped to the ground again. “Whatever. I watched that, uhm, runway show on TV and t-thought you did a great job, so I wanted to…”

Pulling his hands from behind his back, Soldier Boy showed you a bouquet of sunflowers.

Your jaw dropped as you took a step back from the surprise. All those months…  “It was you?!”

He blinked confusedly. “What? Oh… yes. I’ve left some at your door before. I don’t know if you’ve seen them—”

“Of course!” you shrieked with a wide, excited smile. Then you shrank down, remembering the late hour. “I mean, yes, yes, I have. Oh, God. I’m so…”

There were a hundred possible adjectives to describe what this revelation was causing to your head, your heart, and your stomach, but none of them would be accurate enough. From all the scenarios you had imagined, this was definitely the best.

(Thank fuck it wasn’t The Deep…)

You smiled nervously, like a girl talking to her crush for the first time as you fidgeted with the door’s handle. “Do you want to come in?”

Soldier Boy froze for a split second. “Are you… sure?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and nodded. “I was about to order some McDonald's and maybe watch a movie. Wanna join me?”

Maybe you had fallen in love with Ben because he was the first man to see you as a human being, and maybe you should’ve seen a therapist to discuss that, but you didn’t care. 

And, well, his big dick and your wonderful bed chemistry definitely helped his case. 

There was just a tiny flaw in your amazing man: his old-fashioned possessiveness and uncontrollable jealousy. 

No one really cared about you two going out. Vought was busy trying not to go bankrupt; Firecracker was discreetly trying to take your place as the face of the company; Deep and Noir were distracted hating each other; Sage was being her mysterious usual self; and Homelander… wanted people to see him as a god.

That’s how you found yourself presenting a PowerPoint with ideas for Homelander’s godly rebranding in your current team meeting. 

You leant forward to your computer as you angrily pressed a button to pass the slide. “Shitty thing,” you muttered when the screen froze. 

As you bent further, squinting at the screen and unconsciously arching your back, Ben noticed something. Right next to him, Deep’s eyes wandered unashamedly to your ass. He bit his lip and discreetly adjusted himself. 

You grunted and hit the side of the computer. “This stupid thing doesn’t work.”

“Your USB probably has a virus,” Firecracker commented shadily before looking at Homelander for approval. 

The blond man was stoically staring at the door with his hands pressed together on the table. You gulped nervously, hoping he wouldn’t explode against you. 

Homelander had stopped the mean comments towards you since he found out about your relationship with his father, but he still threw ugly glares your way when Ben wasn’t present. 

“I’ll just request another one and—” You never finished your sentence. 

It all happened in a flash. 

Soldier Boy stood up and smashed Deep’s head against the table. 

“What the fuck, bro?!” Deep tried to get up, but Ben helped him to it. 

Your man grabbed Deep by the collar and flung him across the floor. He approached his weak body and repeatedly kicked him in the head, stomach, and crotch. 

Everyone was taken aback by the sudden violence, but no one moved to stop it. The Deep’s whines and cries filled the quiet room.  

Your hands were on your mouth from the shock. You looked at Homelander, who had a tiny smirk on his face. 

And anything he liked would always be something you hated. 

You walked around the table and muttered, “That’s enough.”

Soldier Boy was so enraged and jealous that he didn’t pay attention. He hovered over Deep. “I should tear off your eyes for staring at my girl’s ass,” he grunted before punching him hard. 

The Deep was trying to cover his bloody face as he whimpered, “I’m sorry!”

“You have no right to even look in her direction, you hear me?” 

You sighed deeply and approached the scene. “C’mon, stop. You’ll kill him.”

But he didn’t register your words at all. Ben grasped Deep’s face and yelled, “Do you understand or are you too much of an idiot?!”

Deep cried, “I do! I’m so sorry!”

Soldier Boy raised his arm to deliver another punch, but you had enough of this embarrassing scene. 

“Ben, stop!”

Your angry tone mixed with the mention of his real name seemed to make its magic. Ben lowered his arm slowly, spat on The Deep’s face, and stood up. 

His broad, proud chest deflated at your gloomy expression. He hadn’t thought clearly about his actions; he just reacted at the sight of a threat… like a caveman. 

You ignored everyone’s stares and ran away from the meeting room. Without a doubt, Soldier Boy followed behind. 

“Y/N, wait.”

But you walked firmly down the hallways and away from the chaos. People jumped out of your way, not from fear but from awe. You forced smiles at them until you reached the elevator. 

“Honey…” Ben murmured, noticing you were insistently pressing the closing button. He sped up. “Y/N, don’t be ridiculous—”

And the doors closed on his face. He sighed deeply and refrained from causing another scene in public. 

The stairs would work… if your bedrooms weren’t ten floors below. 

“Goddamn, woman,” he muttered and started the long way downstairs. 

Your thoughts combined with people’s voices were making everything loud. You needed to lock yourself in your bathroom and take a long bubble—

Ben roughly pushed the door to your quarters open, preventing you from closing it fully. 

You stepped back before the door could hit you in the chest, which made Ben raise his hands and look at you with wide eyes. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I—”

“I wanna be alone,” you muttered, walking to your kitchen for a desperately needed glass of water. 

He followed behind you, his hands tight in fists. “You always say we have to 'communicate' and all those things pussies do, but now you want me to go away? Do you hear yourself?”

You pulled a glass from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator. 

Ben stepped right next to you. “Oh, you are ignoring me? Real mature, Y/N.”

That was it… Your patience seemed to run thin when you were with him. 

You turned to your boyfriend with livid eyes. “I’m the immature one? Me? Not the guy who beat up a dude out of jealousy?”

He scoffed. “It was not any dude. That disgusting piece of shit was ogling your ass with no shame.”

You sighed and poured some water for yourself. “Everyone looks at my ass when I’m in this micro suit that your son ordered me to wear.”

Ben’s jaw dropped. “He can have my blood, but he isn’t my son, and you know that pretty well, Y/N. Stop with your goddamn mind games to make me feel guilty.”

It was your turn to be flabbergasted. “I’m not doing that! I’m just saying that you should be used to this by now. Especially with Deep, he looks at everyone’s butts. Even yours!”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he muttered. 

“It’s my body. I definitely don’t like it either, but if you beat up every guy who looks at my ass, there would be no male population.”

Ben passed both hands through his hair. “That’s not my point. It’s not only the looking at it. It’s the disrespect.”

You crossed your arms. “To you or to me?”

He opened and closed his mouth, then sighed. “To both, doll. These morons know you’re my girl, and they still look at you as if you were free meat on the market down the street.”

Ben realized he fucked up when the words had already escaped his mouth. “Which you are not,” he added, trying to save the situation. 

“Leave,” you murmured angrily. “Now.”

“What I’m saying is that men should know better—”

“No!” you cut him off. “Don’t pretend this isn’t a jealousy tantrum. We’ve had this conversation before, and you always try to find excuses.”

“I don’t!”

You placed your hands on his chest and started to push him backwards to the kitchen’s door. “Fuck off.”

Ben didn’t move an inch. “Can we talk like mature adults who want to maintain a healthy relationship?” he said, clearly mocking you. 

“Oh, because we are so healthy,” you snapped with sarcasm. 

His shoulders dropped as his heart stung… and now you were the one that fucked up. Ben scoffed and turned around, going straight to the main door. 

You sighed and reached for his left arm. “Baby, wait.”

“No, no.” He pulled back. “Let me fulfill your wish of fucking off.”

And there was nothing worse for your heart than seeing him walk away. You jumped between him and the door. 

“Baby, I love that you want to protect me all the time…” you spoke in a low, soft voice. “But your possessiveness isn’t healthy for us.”

Ben melted as you reached for his hands. 

“I know. I’m working on it, honey,” he murmured, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly. “But you don't know what it’s like to date someone who is desired by everyone.” His arms wrapped around your waist as he drew you closer to press his forehead against yours. “You could be with any man in the world, baby. And you should definitely be with someone less fucked up.”

Your hands held his cheeks as you shook your head. “I don’t want anyone else, Ben.”

He closed his eyes, the simple yet genuine words hitting him hard. “You’ll get tired of me. My head is a mess. I have no self-control and—”

You silenced his insecure words with a soft kiss. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

Ben licked his lips, already missing yours, and dived back for another taste. This time, it quickly turned passionate as he backed you to the door.

That’s how it always was with you two. The arguments and yells morphed to kisses and physical apologies.

He started devouring your jaw and neck, finding your weak spots with ease. You gasped when his big, strong hands grabbed your ass roughly. His beard tickled you as he whispered in your ear. “I love you too, honey. You’ve no idea how much.”

And, for the millionth time this month, he carelessly tore apart your suit. You felt yourself getting wet as the cold air hit your bare skin. Ben slapped your ass before hooking his hands behind your thighs to lift you up.

You couldn’t contain a soft moan at the sudden contact of your pussy with his suit. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. He smiled arrogantly against your collarbone, then walked to the nearest surface: the dining table.

He pushed the flower vase and the napkins to the floor before laying you down and spreading your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ben murmured and reached for your breasts. He grabbed your left one, playing with your nipple until it hardened. “And I’m the only one that gets to see you like this.” You moaned and arched your back, needing his tongue to replace his fingers. But he stopped. “Say it.”

You frowned and whined. “What now?”

Ben sighed through his nose and squeezed your breast. “Say I’m the only one that gets to fuck you like a whore on your dining table.”

His sweet words never lasted long. 

And you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you wetter.

You rested on your elbows and whispered, “Well… on this dining table, yes.”

Ben rolled his eyes at your joke attempt. His free hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, holding you closer. “On every fucking surface of this shitty apartment?” he clarified.

You gulped and looked up at him with faux innocence. “Y-yes. Only you,” you whispered.

He let go of your neck to grasp your cheeks and kiss you messily. You held onto his shoulders, moving to the edge to feel him against your bareness. When you made contact with his hard belt, your hips started moving desperately.

Ben chuckled and pulled back from your lips. “Needy for my cock, doll?”

You nodded without hesitation. “I need it. Here. Now.”

He clicked his tongue. “You know I like to take my time with you, princess.”

You whined and pressed yourself against his hard-on, making him groan. “Please fuck me, daddy.”

And that broke what was left of his self-control. 

He wanted to make you fall apart with his tongue and fingers first, but you were an expert on making him a mess. Ben fidgeted hurriedly with his belt, his eyes glued to your body. You played with your nipples and let out little whimpers to tease him some more.

“You’ll be the end of me, woman,” he murmured before shoving down his pants.

He pulled out his hard cock and immediately aligned it to your entrance… but you stopped him. “Take it all off,” you whined, pulling at the top of his suit. 

Ben sighed, took a step back and grumpily unclasped piece by piece. “You’re bossy today.”

You smirked and planted your feet on the edge of the table, giving him a perfect view of your wet, open pussy. “Why do something if you won’t do it correctly?”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “Is this about the grilled cheese I burnt this morning?”

“No, but now that you mention it— Oh!” Your words were replaced by a loud, trembling gasp when Ben slammed fully into you. 

He grasped your hips hard enough to leave marks as he started a rough, fast pace. You held onto his shoulders, your nails sinking in his skin as if your life depended on it. 

The table shook rhythmically with each of his movements. “Not so bratty anymore, doll?” he grunted cockily. 

You could only respond with more shaky moans as you looked at him with glassy eyes, overwhelmed by the fullness. 

Ben lifted his left hand to hold the back of your neck before kissing your forehead, a gesture completely opposite to what he was doing with his lower body. “Cat got your tongue?”

As if proving his point, you whined and pouted for a kiss. He chuckled but brought you close to meet your lips, the tenderness of it contrasting with the animalistic need in his body.

Ben pulled your hair, exposing your neck before biting down to leave long-lasting hickeys. He was claiming you, a rough reminder of who you belong to. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice barely audible against the loud sound of skin slapping against skin. “Take it all, doll.”

You were a moaning mess as you tried to hold onto the table, but the slippery glass wasn’t helping. “Couch,” you ordered weakly. “I want to be on top.”

Ben didn’t have to be told twice. Without pulling out, he lifted you up and rushed to the pricey velvet couch. He sat down and looked up at you with newfound hunger. You leant forward and positioned yourself in your favorite riding position. 

His arms surrounded your back to bring your breasts closer to his face. “Fuck, I love you,” he murmured before devouring them eagerly. 

At times like this, you both wondered why you wasted time fighting when you could’ve had him balls deep inside you.

You grasped the couch’s back for support and suddenly felt a sting in your hand. “Shit!”

Ben looked up worriedly, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your left breast. “What’s wrong?”

You patted around until you found the source of your pain: a phone with a smashed screen.

“What happened to your phone?” you gasped, then sighed and smiled condescendingly. “You sat on it with your fat ass again?”

His face dropped as he tried to take the device from your hand. Thinking he was playing, you raised your arm to keep it out of his reach. “C’mon, why didn’t you tell me?” you chuckled. “We’ll buy another one tomo—”

“Just give it to me, for fuck’s sake!” he snapped. “I didn’t sit on it, okay? Give me my phone.”

The cold tone of his voice while his cock was literally shoved inside you was… an insane scenario. You shoved the wrecked phone into his chest. “It was a joke,” you mumbled and stood up.

Ben grabbed your wrist, his eyes back to soft and regretful. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry, doll. Come here—”

“No, I’ll…” You pulled your arm away from his touch. “I’ll take a shower.”

Now you remembered why your relationship was more fight than lust. Your boyfriend had the talent of suddenly being a huge asshole.

6 MONTHS AGO…

You finished wrapping your wet hair with a cotton towel and walked back to the living room, where Ben was supposedly waiting for you to watch a movie. 

He was manspreading on the couch, a hand on the controller and a deep frown on his face as he watched the television. “What the fuck is this?”

You skipped like a happy deer to sit down next to him, but the excitement drained from your body when you saw the screen.  

It was your most recent food commercial. You were in your usual tight superhero suit, but your makeup and hair were overdone for the camera. 

“You know I like them thick and creamy,” Television-You said before taking a big bite of a hamburger and moaning. 

You grimaced and looked at your boyfriend, who was watching the commercial with disgust. A pang of shame struck you hard. 

“Come to Hooters and try my personal favorite: Juicy Booty,” you finished, winking at the camera. 

Ben sighed and pressed his face into his hands. “What the fuck?”

You stood up anxiously, avoiding his eyes as you looked for your phone. “Did you take a look at my movie watchlist? I’m thinking we can watch Zoolan—”

“Don’t change the topic,” he muttered. “What was that? Why the fuck do you make stuff like that?”

Needing a distraction, you walked to the kitchen to prepare some microwave popcorn. 

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you mumbled. “I signed a contract with Vought.”

He entered the kitchen, fuming. “So if Vought asks you to do porn, you’d do it?”

You glared at him, then turned back to the microwave. “Of course not. It’s just a stupid commercial. Get over it.”

Ben scoffed, thoroughly offended. “Get over my girlfriend acting like a prostitute for Vought to get some dollars that won’t make a difference in her fortune?”

Your heart dropped as his words hit on your deepest insecurities. Ben noticed your tearful eyes and immediately regretted his words. “Well, I mean… Maybe more than some dollars—” 

“Stop,” you snapped in a trembling voice. “Just… leave.”

Ben approached you slowly and hugged you from behind. He kissed the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. I love you so much and it hurts seeing Vought treat you like that.”

You closed your eyes as you fought the urge to give in. Ben turned you around gently and kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry, doll. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, already feeling bad for him. “I love you too… but I don’t like when you say stuff like that.”

He nodded and sighed. “I won’t do it again, okay? I promise.”

And after more murmured apologies between kisses, you believed him and let him fuck you on the kitchen counter, the popcorn’s buttery smell filling the room. 

You were weak when it came to Ben. It seemed that you were the only one in the relationship who was understanding about him being from another decade. 

“Things were different back then,” you repeated to yourself every time he said something morally incorrect…

But when were you drawing the line?

He tried to hold your hand again, but you brushed him off. As you began your naked walk of shame to the bathroom, Ben spoke again.

“I downloaded the app that you showed me. The one that answers questions,” he started. “Redhead?”

You slowly turned around. “Reddit?”

“Yes, that one.” He stood up. “I was looking up ways to reset the microwave—”

“What?”

“Long story.” He paced as he continued, “The point is… when I finished, I looked up your name.”

Oh.

You sighed, already imagining the thousand possible bad things he could’ve seen. 

Ben shook his head as he grasped his hair in distress. “How can people talk about you like that?! And-and the drawings? It’s so… so…”

“Disgusting?” you offered.

“Inhuman,” he murmured. “There were drawings of your body with every type of proportions, or fucked by different Supes, or in weird costumes, or with octopus—”

You placed both hands on his chest. “I get it. I’ve seen some too.” At least he didn’t find the deepfakes… 

He held your waist as he shook his head again, disappointed in society. “I hate that they see you like that. I wish I could… take you away from here.” He placed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Taken care of and loved by me. Only me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling conflicted about his protective nature.

His big hands stroke your cheeks possessively. “Let’s take a break from this. From Vought’s bullshit circus. Let’s go to… I don’t know. Europe? I’ll take you to Europe, baby.”

“Ben…”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll buy us a cabin in the most beautiful woods, and we can live there alone.” Then your nose. “I’ll get us a chef and a maid so we can fuck all day.”

“Ben…”

He pulled slightly back to look into your eyes. “And we’ll have a big backyard where I’ll marry you.”

You stopped resisting. God, you were weak. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pecked your lips before murmuring against them. “And then, we will have all the puppies you want.”

“And kittens?”

Ben smirked and bit your lower lip gently. “And kittens, bunnies, flowers… anything for my princess.”

He was an expert at fucking up, but he excelled at convincing you to forgive him. And it seemed like he had succeeded with his words today.

You pushed him back to the wall and knelt in front of him. Your boyfriend smirked, proud of himself for making you horny again. 

He grabbed your hair and guided your head forward, slapping you with his hard, leaking cock. “Open up, baby.”

You opened wide obediently as his thick head reached your lips. Ben groaned deeply when you took him in your mouth, your jaw already aching from his girth. 

He gripped the back of your head and rolled his hips slowly. “Fuck… Take it all. I know you can do it.”

Waking him up with a blowjob every morning during the first month of your relationship had taught you how to relax your throat and breathe through your nose. Ben groaned at the messy sight of his cock disappearing between your beautiful lips.

His grip on your hair tightened as he thrust up and hit the back of your throat. “That’s it, fuck.” Your eyes watered when his hips began to move with more urgency. Ben looked down at you with lustful, dark eyes. “You look so pretty like this, doll. Bet you’d let me use this mouth all fucking day.”

You moaned around him, making him grunt and lose control. He was thrusting deep now, his balls slapping against your chin as he fucked your mouth. You held onto his strong thighs with shaky hands.

“Look at you,” Ben growled. “Choking on your man like a good girl. My perfect slut.” But he pulled out, letting you catch air, and lifted you up. “But I need to finish inside you.”

You gasped, startled, as he threw you over his shoulder and rushed to the bedroom. You wouldn’t stop him at all; you loved pleasing him but you needed to be fucked now.

After a sharp spank, Ben dropped you on the king-sized bed (which had never stayed clean for more than three hours since he moved into your chambers). He flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your ass, his favorite position.

“We’re not leaving this bed today,” he joked as he aligned his cock with your pussy.

You whimpered and pushed back for his voluptuous tip to slip in. “Please…”

Ben smirked and teased you with a few more inches. You grasped the bed and instinctively arched your back. But he pulled back and snickered. “Please what, baby?”

Typical of him to get cocky in the worst moments. You sighed heavily and mumbled, “Please put it in?”

He clicked his tongue. “You can do better than that.”

You grunted against the pillow before turning your head to the side and saying, “Please fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Ben chuckled and wiggled your ass playfully. “I don’t think you can handle all that.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed your back right to his crotch. “You know I can't, and that’s why you love it.”

Your boyfriend smiled wickedly and positioned himself back in your entrance. “Goddamn right, princess.” He pushed the tip in slowly. “Let’s see how rough I can get until I break you.”

Finally, Ben grunted deeply as he slammed into you. Your pussy clenched at his sounds and at the sensation of being filled to the brim. Even after a year, you hadn’t gotten used to his super-sized dick. And it wasn’t as if he ever gave you time to process it. No, once he was inside you, he couldn’t control himself.

Ben gripped your hips and set a relentless, rough pace. “Fuck. Always so tight.” Something inside him lit up at the sticky sight of his cock disappearing into you, right where it belonged, where he would never leave. “Feels good, baby?”

The bed was banging against the wall with each movement, creating a nasty melody joined by your moans and Ben’s grunts. 

“It’s g-great,” you managed to respond. “Need m-more. Please!”

He wrapped both hands around your waist to hold your ass up and pounded into you deeply. His tip reached that sweet spot inside you over and over, making you arch your back. 

“Oh, fuck! Don’t s-stop!” you yelled.

“Wasn’t planning to, princess,” he chuckled breathily. He spanked your left cheek. “Only I can fuck you this good, huh?”

“Y-yes, only you!” you moaned, trying to look back at him.

Ben pushed your face back to the mattress and used his free hand to slap your ass repeatedly. “Such a fucking slut for me. Clenching so hard around me.”

You couldn’t really process the pain he was causing to your lower back when his cock was transporting your mind to a lustful heaven.

“Want me to come inside, honey?” Ben asked, already knowing your answer.

“Please!” you whimpered. “Need you t-to fill me up.”

Ben hooked his fingers around your hair and pulled your head back to kiss your neck. “So perfect for me… You’re gonna be full of me all day. Won’t let a drop out of this cunt.”

You nodded. “I love you,” you whined, feeling overwhelmed with need. “Only you. Forever.”

He grabbed your cheeks and pecked your lips. “I love you more, honey.” His right hand wrapped around your front to rub fast circles on your clit. “I’m never letting you go. Not a fucking chance you’re getting rid of me, you hear me?”

You nodded again, like an obedient doll, and pouted your lips pathetically. “K-kiss.”

Ben gave you a passionate kiss that pushed you right to the edge. The rubs mixed with the hard snaps of his hips against your ass were enough for you to let go. 

The tight clench of your orgasm brought him close to the afterglow too. He let out a guttural grunt as he spilled deep inside you, his hips stilling and his hands using your waist for support. 

Ben sighed tiredly and kissed your cheek briefly. He pulled out and fell to the mattress next to you. “That was amazing.” He squeezed your thigh before sitting up.

Your tired body felt like a dumbbell sinking in an ocean. “We aren’t leaving this bed, indeed. I’m sleeping til dinner,” you mumbled.

Ben opened the nightstand’s drawer and pulled out a small bag of coke. You tensed immediately, glaring at him as he made a messy line and snorted it with ease.

You stared at the ceiling, biting your tongue while he lay back on your side. He caressed your waist tenderly... almost apologetically. But you knew him well enough to know that he never regretted doing a line.

For a long minute, Ben was so quiet you thought he had fallen asleep. Then he whispered, “We have to run away before you start showing.”

You gulped, the reminder causing your stomach to drop. “We still have two months or so.”

“I don’t care,” he said with the softest voice he could evoke. “We need to be out of here before that son of a bitch finds out.”

Your boyfriend didn’t have to explain why Homelander finding out about your unplanned pregnancy would be catastrophic.

Ben rested on his elbow to look at you. “The second I find the V-One for you, we’ll take a plane to—”

“I don’t want the V-One, baby,” you mumbled with a sad smile. 

The ambient turned heavy every time you two talked about this. Ben had found out he was immortal, so naturally, he was determined to get the V-One before Homelander or Butcher’s gang and inject it into you. 

Ben scoffed and sat up. “Wait until I have it before deciding, okay?” he said with a shaky voice that pulled at your heartstrings. “I c-can’t lose you.”

You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers. “You won’t. I’m right here.”

He shook his head. “Just… promise me you’ll think about it until I get it. Please?”

Even though he was high, it was rare to see him vulnerable and with his emotions so on the surface. You were sure no one else in the world but you had been lucky enough to be his shoulder to cry on.

So how could you break his heart?

“Alright. I won’t make a decision yet,” you lied. To him or to yourself? You weren’t sure.

Ben brought your intertwined hands to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “We’ll get through this together.” His free hand caressed your lower tummy. “The three of us.”

You tried to believe him, to believe there was a way to survive Homelander’s horror show, but it was hard to float with no faith. Even if you managed to escape, he would find you. Maybe Homelander wouldn’t hurt his father, but you? While carrying his father’s unplanned-but-already-loved kid?

But you smiled weakly and kissed his cheek. “Together.”

A little white lie never killed anybody… right?

a/n: posting again feels so weird omg.

Yes, I’m alive. Sorry if I worried you, my life was MESSY.

In a brief summary: I had a horrible, demanding job; I’m studying for two bachelor’s degrees at the same time; I had a divorce-like friendship breakup, and I had four boyfriends at the same time (long story, I’m not sure how that happened lol.)

But I resigned! Yay! I’ll have time to write smut again (i should probably study too i guess…)

I wanna thank you all for the support you’ve given me while I was away. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I’m writing a Steve Harrington smut, but… my comeback one-shot will be with The Boys’ Soldier Boy. Yes, I cheated on Steve omg sorry!!

From now on, I’ll write for the Supernatural, Spider-Man, Stranger Things, The Boys, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter fandoms.

Comeback smut is arriving tonight. Prepare yourselves.

Love you all and requests are open!

(Joe Keery x Fem!Singer!Reader)

Summary: The Grammys puts you and Joe in the same room again, reigniting an unspoken jealousy and sexual tension that are impossible to avoid.

Word count: 9.5k

Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (public and unprotected p in v), some angst, fluff-y.

a/n: lets pretend joe was at the grammys looking hot as usual...

The day after you left Joe for good, Mary and Paul traveled on your private jet all the way to New York. They helped pack everything from your shared apartment while you rotted in sobs in a hotel room. 

Joe was gone, probably in California, so Mary couldn’t kick his ass the way he deserved. 

You blocked his number, deleted your socials, and, for the next entire month, wrote the most depressive songs of your career. It would be crazy to announce this breakup album about a relationship no one ever knew about.

Mary and Paul insisted on taking you to their Christmas’ and New Year’s plans, like a sad, sickened puppy they had to take care of. 

They wanted badly to convince you to speak with Joe, clarify stuff, and find closure, but they couldn’t deny that those three messages Sabrina sent were enough damage to your mental health. 

“Want to know what I did when my ex cheated on me? Paul said one time he and Mary had driven you to the airport. “I fucked the girl she was always jealous of.”

Mary groaned. “That’s the worst advice ever, babe.”

For a second, you imagined sleeping with every hot guy in the industry to break Joe’s heart as he had done yours. But your sadness was making it impossible to even think about talking to another man again. 

During the first three weeks, there was one app you kept: Twitter. After years of not using it, you had found the fun in it and learned to block names from appearing on your feed. 

Scrolling on it was your favorite time-consuming activity until two tweets ruined everything. 

First, someone spotted Joe and Sabrina attending an SNL after-party. They hadn’t been seen together, but they were both in the same room so everyone —including you— assumed they were dating. 

Then, that same afternoon, the universe kept punishing you with a tweet saying, “omggg joe is active here again? he liked a Y/N Y/L/N edit!?” The comments were screenshots proving that he indeed had liked an edit of yours with… brazilian funk music? 

You weren’t sure how those short videos worked, but you liked it too as a thank-you to the fan. They had probably spent a long time finding clips of you looking not so miserable and—

A hundred notifications arrived all at once and you almost dropped your phone.

“OMG @ Y/N DOWNLOADED TWITTER AGAIN?”

“OMG SHE REMEMBERED HER PASSWORD!!”

“GIRL WE NEED THE NEW ALBUM!”

Your name was trending as everyone made a big deal of your accidental comeback on Twitter. Accidentally, you tapped on the DMs tab, which filters to only receive messages from verified accounts.

Your heart dropped at a name you had started to loathe. Only the start of the message was visible.

Joe Keery: y/n, why are u doing this?? what have I done to…

No way in hell you would open the chat; curiosity was not one of your traits now. All the chaos had been a message from the universe to delete the damn app. 

But even though you loved doing nothing but crying and creating music, there was one event you had to attend: the Grammys. 

You were nominated for Album, Record, and Song of the Year, and in the hype felt months ago, you hadn’t thought twice in accepting the event’s insistent begging to present an award and perform at least one song. 

A week before the Grammys, Mary dragged you to the show’s rehearsal. You hadn’t opened the email, not caring who you would present with or which award. There would be a teleprompter; why would you need to practice?

Fellow artists were hanging out in a lounge room as event managers called each pair to the stage. You politely greeted most of them, then sat down on a faraway chair and tried to fall asleep.

Someone gently shook your shoulder. “Hey, are you awake?”

You slowly opened your eyes and removed your headphones. “What—? Oh.”

Harry Styles was smiling down as he scratched his arm awkwardly. “Sorry to bother you. Just wanted to say hi.”

He wanted to say ‘hi’ to you?! “I thought you retired,” you said without thinking before covering your mouth. “Sorry.”

He chuckled out loud and slumped down next to you, placing his arm on your backrest. “That’s alright. I released a song, like, a week ago, so I’m barely un-retired.” 

Harry smelled good, you thought as you gave him a discreet once-over. 

“Nice. Will listen to it later,” you said. 

He shrugged. “It’s okay; you don’t have to.”

You frowned, not impressed by his attempt to look humble. “Why not? I like your music. Well, your debut album and Fine Line. Harry’s House was okay-ish.”

Harry seemed taken aback by your bluntness but he smiled widely. “That’s… absolutely valid. Umm, I do like all your music, so this is awkward now.”

Pleased that he was matching your mood, you crossed your arms and teased, “C’mon, there must be one song you dislike.”

He curled his lip and shook his head. “No… Maybe the unreleased one you sang a couple of months ago. Too cheesy.”

Even though it was obvious he was joking, you scoffed. “I hate that one too now. Never gonna release it.”

Harry turned to you, his arm accidentally grazing your shoulders. “Let me guess. They broke your heart?”

Worse, it broke you completely. But you just nodded and smiled weakly. “Something like that.”

You didn’t notice as his eyes travelled up and down your body, lingering on your legs. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to ask a question… just when the door opened.

“Miss Y/L/N?” a crew guy asked. “It’s your turn.”

Harry stood up and offered you a hand. You politely accepted it, refraining from making a sarcastic comment about his unnecessary gentlemanship.

“Oh, you should come too, Mr. Styles. You’re after her.”

The mentioned one nodded before you two followed the man to the stage. 

“It’ll be my birthday,” he suddenly said.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“The Grammys are on my birthday,” Harry explained. 

You snorted humorlessly. “I would probably kill myself if I were you.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “Why? It’s fun. Especially the afterparty.”

“Yes, if you drink and snort coke,” you mumbled. “And want to hook up with anyone hot.”

He joked, “Celebrity Manual 101 to the T.”

An assistant explained which award you had to present, which was the cue, and where to stand after it. There weren’t many lines and the teleprompter was slow, so your rehearsal lasted less than ten minutes. 

You hurried off the stage once it was over and repeatedly called Mary to have her pick you up.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry came out of the venue too and approached you. “Want me to give you a ride?”

Your instinctive response would’ve been to deny, but Mary wasn’t answering any of your calls and your stomach was protesting. 

You had followed Harry since his One Direction time, and he seemed like a decent, kind guy. His solo lyrics were amazing in your perspective, so… maybe you could step out of your comfort zone for once?

“Wanna eat something at my place?” 

— — —

For the entire week leading to the Grammys, all people talked about was the series of pictures of you in Harry Styles’ car, then both of you entering your hotel through the private back door. 

Then there were the pictures of you two going to a recording studio with his producers on Tuesday, visiting a friend in common on Thursday, and sneaking into a sushi restaurant on Saturday.

Harry was the friend you didn’t know you needed. He was as reserved as you, but kinder; knew everyone in the industry yet had no drama with anyone, not even his exes, and matched your songwriting vibe. 

After the Grammy practice, you showed him the almost fifty songs you had written since breaking things up with Joe. They weren’t finished, and they weren’t really on plans to be released soon, but a lightbulb turned on in Harry’s mind as he found rhythms for half of them. 

You had no idea how his lyrics could be so good at expressing your feelings. 

“Has anyone cheated on you?” you wondered as he served you more sushi. 

Harry frowned, thinking deeply, before shaking his head. “Not really.” He asked a server to pack your food to go.

“Let’s go to your place; I wanna finish those background vocals in Sinful,” you said excitedly while picking up your purse.

He chuckled and placed his arm around your shoulders. “That one’s my favorite too. Our voices mix perfectly.

The restaurant’s host opened the back door for you with a polite smile. Harry led you to his car across the empty parking lot. The restaurant had closed an hour ago, but Harry knew the boss. 

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

At the reminder of the Grammys, you grimaced. “Oh, no. My stomach already hurts from the nerves.”

Harry stopped right outside the passenger door. He soothed your shoulder. “You wanna go together? Maybe it’ll help with your anxiety.”

Mary had suggested it already… but with ulterior motives. You shrugged. “I don’t know. Won’t that bother your girlfriend?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he opened the car door for you. “Zoe isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Friends? I do not fuck my friends,” you teased.

He entered the driver's seat, smirking. “You’re not living your life to the fullest. When was the last time you had sex?”

You sighed. “A month ago… with You-Know-Who.”

Harry made a fake puking sound as he kept driving to his place. “You need to get laid, love. Tomorrow we’ll get you someone.”

“No, thanks.”

“Y/N, believe me…” He looked at you with complete seriousness. “A rebound fixes everything.”

You whined and threw your head back. “I don’t want a rebound! I want…” Joe. I want Joe again. But you just whispered, “...to throw myself off a balcony.”

Harry chuckled and squeezed your thigh. “Sometimes trying new things can help with the heartache, princess.”

And you knew, right in his tone, what was said between lines. You stared at his attractive profile, his eyes firm on the way ahead while his hand remained on your leg.

It was time to choose a road: keep crying over Joe, the first man you genuinely loved, or accept a quick british cure.

— — —

Every award show was overwhelmingly crowded; that was a known fact, so at the Grammys, you spent three minutes on the red carpet before rushing inside. 

If your peers found you rude or egocentric for avoiding conversations, you couldn’t care less. The past month had taught you to run away the second you felt uncomfortable… a piece of advice that your therapist did not approve of, but whatever.

Dolce & Gabbana had made you a custom red gown that mixed what you needed from the past festival: fairy-like sexiness. 

“You look like Lord of the Rings and Fifty Shades had a fanfiction that turned into a movie,” Mary had said as she took pictures of you on the red carpet. “A smile?”

“Nothing to smile for,” you had jokingly muttered to your best friend. 

Since everyone was still on the red carpet, there were only the assistants, the servers, and you in the event’s main room. Mary went to the bathroom while you looked for your seats among the various tables.

“Oh, no,” you whined when you found your name card… next to Sabrina’s. 

You rushed to grab yours and exchange it for another table.

“Miss? Miss!” An event’s assistant approached you with wide, horrified eyes. “You can’t do that. The seat arrangements have been planned for—”

You took out three hundred dollars from Mary’s purse. “Is this enough? I have Cash App, and—”

“Let’s make it a thousand,” the assistant offered. She shrugged and crossed her arms. “Or I can’t do anything to change your seats.”

Before Mary could arrive and see the immature thing you were doing, you transferred the money to the young lady. 

She smirked at her phone once the bank notification appeared before grabbing your name card and walking off. You picked up your dress’ hem and hurriedly followed her. 

The kind woman stopped at the table closest to the stage and exchanged a name card with yours. “Done. Bye!”

You walked around the table to read the name cards and almost shrieked. At each of your sides were ‘Harry Styles’ and ‘Djo.’ You’d rather kill yourself in front of them. 

“Girl! Woman! Whatever age, come back!” you shouted to the assistant, but she disappeared out of the room. 

“What happened?” Mary mumbled behind you, her eyes on her phone as she typed aggressively fast. 

You grabbed her wrist to get her complete attention and pointed to the name cards. She squinted her eyes, then chuckled loudly.

“This is crazy. I have to take a picture for Paul.” Mary pointed her phone at the table.

“What—?” you whispered, flabbergasted. “This isn’t funny!”

Mary’s wide smile didn’t waver as she replied, “I know, it isn’t funny at all.” She knelt to take another angle. “This is like my own Twilight happening in real life.”

You opened and closed your mouth, still taken aback by her lack of help. “Mary, what are you doing?!”

Some waiters and assistants turned around to look at you two. You smiled awkwardly at them before grabbing the closest one’s arm. “I need to change seats—”

“Absolutely not,” the bald man snapped. “The seat arrangement stopped receiving changes two minutes ago.”

You pulled out Mary’s wallet. “How much—?”

He took a big step back and glared at you. “Are you about to bribe me?”

Quietly, you gulped. “N-no. Was just looking for…” You took out the first thing you found: your friend’s Chuck E. Cheese card. “...this?”

Suddenly, Harry appeared behind him and smiled politely. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You whined and gripped his arm. “Harry, I can’t sit here. Look!”

He curled his lip at Joe’s name and shrugged. “Umm… I don’t know. Swap seats with me?”

The bald man shrieked, “No, you won’t. The camera crew has the seat arrangement already and I won’t have any confusion happening today, you understand?”

Mary sighed deeply. “It’s just one seat, sir. Can’t you accept a hundred dollars and a selfie?”

The man looked her up and down with disdain. “I’m done with celebrities,” he muttered before hurrying away.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded from the stress. Artists started entering the venue, chatting calmly as they searched for their seats. 

Harry placed a comforting hand on your waist. “It’s alright. Just scoot your chair close to mine.” He gave you a once-over. “You look pretty, by the way.”

“She does.”

A bullet could do less harm to your heart than that voice.  

You weren’t brave enough to look at Joe behind you, but you could feel him, a presence you had gotten used to for almost two years. 

Harry smiled at Joe and offered his free hand. “Nice to meet you, man.”

That hurt. Of course Harry wouldn’t cross Joe off just because he was your ex. He never caused drama and wouldn’t start just for you.

You moved sideways, letting them shake hands. Joe’s eyes were on you, on Harry’s hand casually on your waist. 

“Mhm, nice to meet you,” Joe muttered sarcastically.

A flash blinded the three of you. Mary lowered her phone quickly and gave you an apologetic smile. “S-sorry. Didn’t notice the flash was on.”

Mary turned around to scurry away, then hesitated and approached Joe. She gripped his shoulder hard and whispered, “There’s a place in hell for men like you.”

Joe stared at her, speechless, before Mary sent you a quick kiss and rushed away. 

For a second, your eyes found Joe’s, but you swiftly looked to the ground, your heart aching like an open wound. 

Your entire body was shaking from the close proximity after a whole month without him. A month needing him back, craving his touch badly. 

“Oh, are you cold, love?” Harry asked before taking off his blazer and putting it over your shoulders

Joe scoffed and slumped down on his seat, giving you his back as he distracted himself on his phone. 

You took that moment to stare at him, to analyze him. He looked incredibly hot with his messy blonde hair and black outfit. In another universe where you two were publicly together, you would’ve sucked him off underneath the table. 

The room got full just when the show started. The first presentation occurred, then the host gave his speech, told his jokes… yet you weren’t paying attention to anything but Joe. 

It felt surreal having him right next to you but not being able to hold his hand, rest your head on his shoulder, or kiss his cheek. You two were now… strangers. 

Joe was barely moving, his eyes glued to the stage, but you noticed his hands turning to fists whenever Harry talked to you. 

At the start of the first commercial break, he turned to you and opened his mouth to speak, “Can—?”

An event manager arrived at the table. “Miss Y/LN, it’s time to prepare you for your presentation.”

Harry squeezed your hand. “Good luck, love.”

If looks could kill, Joe would’ve been sent to prison for murdering the former One Direction member. 

You followed the girl, choosing to not overthink what Joe was about to say, and entered the backstage world. 

While the stage remained great for the cameras, the behind the scenes was always a chaotic place. People with clipboards, water bottles, and cameras ran around, not looking as they pushed you out of their way. 

The giant dressing room was divided into three rooms for different artists. Mary was already on the middle one, typing on her phone as usual. 

Suddenly, a girl leaned out of the next room and squealed. You jumped back surprised and definitely not expecting a fan there. 

“She’s here!” the girl said to the other five girls before they ran to your dressing room. 

For some reason, Mary wasn’t reacting, just watching the interaction calmly. 

“Hi! We’re big fans,” a second girl said. 

You forced a smile and nodded. “That’s great. Nice to meet you.”

They were probably family with someone important that let them into the backstage without problems. 

“Can we take a picture?” a third one asked. 

Despite your discomfort, they seemed nice and very fucking excited, so you nodded and posed with them. 

A girl with black hair and pink bangs nervously asked, “Could we make a Tiktok?”

“D’you know the Gnarly dance?” another asked. 

An Asian girl slapped her arm. “Dude, don’t bother her anymore.”

They started bickering about dances, videos, and… zucchini? You felt like a Millennial hearing about Skibiddi toilets for the first time in their life. 

Before you could speak, an event’s assistant entered. “Katseye on stage in two minutes. C’mon, ladies, follow me!”

They squealed again, fixed their hairs quickly and exited the dressing room. Mary smirked at you and crossed her arms. “You knew who they were?”

You huffed and lied, “Of course I knew they were… Cats’ Eyes.”

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s 2026, Y/N. Please download Tiktok.”

Before you could keep protesting, your assigned styling team arrived. Mary made sure they put on your chosen dress, a blue gown—blue as your boring mood, she had joked—and fixed your hair until it was perfect. 

“Try not to mess yourself up for the next five minutes, okay?” Mary said from the door, ready to bolt. “I’ll be in the audience, throwing tomatoes at you.”

You smiled weakly at her joke. “Check that they aren’t rotten. The smell never leaves with those.”

Once she left, the quietness came back, leaving only the low hum of the current presentation out there. You sighed deeply and slumped down on the couch, careful to not ruin your hair. 

Finally, five minutes of calm—

“There you are.”

Sabrina’s voice cringed you.

Sitting up, you watched as the singer, already dressed for her presentation, closed the third door of the dressing room and firmly approached you.

For many nights, you had imagined your first confrontation with your former friend. In all those fantasies, you grabbed her voluminous blonde hair and threw her like a baseball to another planet. 

But in all those imaginations, you didn’t suddenly remember the good memories, the late-night conversations, the trusted confessions… 

You stood up, refusing to cry, as you muttered, “What do you want? To rub it in my face?”

Sabrina frowned. She seemed angry, almost livid. “Rub what, bitch?”

“Excuse me?” you gasped.

With her powerful five feet, she didn’t back down as she spat, “Like you heard: bitch. You’re a fucking immature bitch for blocking me, ignoring me everywhere, and disappearing without explanation. What is wrong with you?!”

You scoffed, the sadness subsiding and morphing into indignation. “Oh, so you wanna play stupid. Or is it slow? Maybe it’s useless.” Not really understanding yourself, you started to quote her lyrics. 

Sabrina frowned, taken aback by your random words. “What—?”

“That’s an awful song, by the way. Your whole album is shit,” you started to lie, wanting to hurt her as she had done with you. “It doesn’t deserve to be nominated.”

Her face turned red, and if you were in a cartoon, smoke would’ve come out of her ears.

“Oh, yeah? Well, your album is just whining and crying about how depressed you are,” Sabrina attacked back. “How about you go to goddamn therapy, Y/N?”

You almost stepped back from the shock. “You know what? Fuck you, man-stealer.”

Sabrina’s jaw dropped. “What?! Who did I steal?”

“You know what you did… homewrecker,” you replied, hesitating with the insult. “I saw your messages with Joe.”

Sabrina stayed quiet, her face going through various emotions as she processed your words. “Joe…? What…? Girl, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—?”

“Before Christmas,” you explained. “He was going to California to—”

“Oh, that,” she muttered and sighed deeply. “You’re the biggest idiot ever, Y/N.”

Okay, now you wanted to seize her blonde hair and shove her small body to the ground.

“For trusting you two? Yes, I am. You deserve each other, you both lying snakes!”

She scoffed and gripped the bridge of her nose. “Dude, he’s not even my type!”

You crossed your arms and took a step closer. “What do you mean? Too easy for you or—”

Suddenly, Sabrina got on her tiptoes, grabbed your cheeks, and pecked your lips. You went still, not even closing your wide, shocked eyes.

She pulled back, her hands shaking slightly. “That’s what I meant.”

You stayed there, staring at each other quietly. Your whole face was red as you tried to come up with a normal sentence. 

“I—I didn’t realize… I, wow, uhm…”

Sabrina sighed and shook her head. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything or do something. I just… Can we still be friends?”

Still not sure about what was happening, you nodded. “Uhm. Yeah, why not? Just… We should talk more about… that.”

She scratched her arm nervously. “Yeah, I get it. Can you, like, not tell anyone?”

“Absolutely,” you assured her. “Your secret is safe with me. Won’t even tell Mary.”

Before the conversation could continue, the main door opened. An assistant smiled nervously. “Miss Y/N, hey, uhm… I forgot to pick you up. You have thirty seconds to get mic’d.”

Fuck.

“We’ll talk later,” you told Sabrina as you walked backwards to the door. “And I’m sorry I thought—”

Sabrina raised her arms. “OMG, girl, just go! You’re late!”

The sound team was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as they connected the earpiece and the sound equipment needed on your body.

The recent chat with your former friend was replaying nonstop on your mind. Never in a million years would you have thought Sabrina liked you. It made sense now why she had been constantly behind you after ending things with her ex. 

Your cheeks remained pink as you imagined what could’ve happened if Sabrina had made a move before you met Joe… 

“Ready,” a sound girl whispered, relieved. “Go, go. The commercial break is over.”

Another assistant gave you a microphone and gently pushed you to the stage. Oh, no, no. With all the latest drama, you haven’t had time to process the upcoming presentation. 

People applauded when you appeared on stage. You smiled nervously and walked to the center as the music started. 

A wooden swing decorated with leaves and flowers was hanging in the middle of the stage. You sat on it and started singing your famous yet nominated sad song.

You kept your eyes on the camera, avoiding connecting gazes with certain people down the stage. Your shaky hand gripped the swing’s cable as you swung softly.  

Your mind was trying to be focused on the lyrics, but your body needed action; you needed to release all this anxiety. 

As the instrumental part before the bridge started, you were supposed to walk to the front of the stage, place the microphone on the stand and sing more dramatically. 

But, at the last second, you made an impulsive decision and walked to the band behind you. They were always in your shows, so you had the confidence to approach the guitarist.

“Can you give me that electric guitar?”

He looked at the instrument behind him, sighed, and obeyed. “Do you even know how to—?”

You walked back to the microphone calmly, pretending this was the plan all along, as you placed the guitar strap on your shoulders and turned it on. 

This was your song; you had created it in your mind, and you had produced it, so you were in all the right to make some upgrades. 

As you changed the song’s rhythm, you felt that the lyrics stopped being about your childhood trauma and became more about your current insecurities and everyone’s pressure on you. 

You could feel your own lyrics hurting your soul. It stopped being the Tiktok song you were tired of singing, and it went back to the lyrics you wrote in your diary while crying. 

As you finished, you had to take a big step back from the microphone to recover your breath. Everyone in the room stood up to clap, but you needed to run. 

So that’s what you did. 

You returned the instrument and rushed off the stage. People were confused as you ran between them, the cameras following you. 

The show went to commercials quickly, afraid of what you may do, but you couldn’t care less as you pushed the door out of the event and almost fell to your knees in the lobby. 

A waiter gasped and helped you up. “You alright, lady?”

You vaguely thanked him before dragging yourself to the nearest elevator, in need of air. Without a doubt, your finger pressed the last button to go straight to the rooftop.

As you had imagined, it was empty with just some couches and tables perfectly in place. You ran to the edge of the terrace and grasped the railing like your life depended on it. 

You were fine, you were safe, and your show was over. Nothing had gone wrong; no one had thrown tomatoes at you. 

So you sighed deeply and slowly walked to one of the couches. You took long breaths, calming yourself by remembering that nothing really mattered anymore. 

“You alright?”

The last thing you needed currently was Joe’s voice right behind you. You kept soothing your chest as you nodded. 

“You don’t look okay,” he muttered. 

You closed your eyes when his form took shape in your eyesight. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Joe crouched in front of you. His left hand on your thigh made you open your eyes, staring right into his. 

“D’you need some water?” he whispered worriedly. “That was a great presentation, though. You have nothing to be nervous of. 

You quickly shook your head and stood up. “Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“We can talk tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’ll unblock you and—”

Joe rose to his feet too. “No. You don’t get to decide that anymore. Not after you walked away from my life for an entire month,” he said angrily. “Not when you threw away our relationship because of your immaturity and lack of trust.”

You licked your lips anxiously, taken aback by his livid tone. “I know, but tonight’s overwhelming enough and—”

“Is it because of him?” he cut you off. He approached you in swift strides and grabbed your arms. “Can’t let you go without knowing.”

You blinked confused. “What—?”

“Harry Styles,” Joe snapped. His angry eyes weren’t wavering away from yours. “Are you going out with him?”

You sighed. “We’re just friends.”

He scoffed, his right hand going up to the nape of your neck. “Are you fucking him, Y/N? Did he kiss you?”

The sudden closeness of his lips, his deep brown eyes into yours, and his usual cologne were making a mess of your brain. 

“I—No. It’s not like that,” you stammered.

Joe’s hand wandered to your cheek. He stroked it with a weak smile. “I saw the pics. He took you out, you took him home… I’m not an idiot. You don’t need to lie to me.”

You held his wrist and caressed it as you whispered, “How could I sleep with someone else when you’re all I see in my dreams?”

Joe closed his eyes, your words cutting right through his heart. His hand dropped as he took a step back. “And I only see you in my nightmares.”

You gulped and hugged yourself awkwardly. “I get it. You should hate me.”

He looked at you horrified. “Hate you? I wish. I should; you’re right.”

You hadn’t noticed he had been carrying a folder. Joe placed it on the coffee table. He pointed at it, and you reluctantly sat down and opened it. 

“Every message I had with Sabrina.”

There were around fifteen pages of text messages, printed out by a specialized system to show the exact time. They were all cordial, brief, and talking about—-

Joe took a small square box from his pocket and threw it carelessly at the table. “I knew Mary is obligated to tell you everything, so I asked Sabrina for help.”

You didn’t need to open the box nor read more messages. Your eyes watered as you covered your face, feeling like the worst person in the world.

“I spent days and nights asking myself what the fuck I did wrong, trying to understand you,” he continued. “I didn’t realize it was about her until she told me you had blocked her too.”

Joe knelt again in front of you until you were looking at him again. “I kept asking myself what I must have done to make you think I would ever cheat on you, Y/N.”

With shaky legs, you stood up and started walking to the door. Joe stopped you, seizing your arm. “Where are you going?”

You whispered in a tearful voice. “I fucked up. You weren’t with her. Alright, fine. But that doesn’t change things.”

Joe scoffed. “What the hell do you mean? It changes everything.”

There was an ashtray on the table that made you crave a cigarette. 

“It doesn’t change that I left without a word; I gave up on us unfairly,” you explained. “You didn’t deserve any of this, Joe. I love you too much to make you come back.”

“No,” he snapped. Again, he grabbed your arms to keep you in place. “You can’t decide what I deserve or not. You can’t say you love me and then break my heart again.”

You covered your face for a second, overwhelmed by your own resistance to crying. “That’s what I mean, Joe! I’ll just drag you down with me and my problems. I’m not okay; I’m insecure and every stupid thing gives me anxiety and—”

“And I still love you!” he cut you off. “Even with your flaws and your issues, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, Y/N.” 

You looked up at Joe when his voice broke. His eyes were matching your tearful ones.

“We both fucked up,” he continued. “I know you hate surprises; you’ve told me a thousand times, and I still stupidly planned all that with Sabrina.”

“Please tell me you didn’t have a whole party planned,” you mumbled.

Joe smiled weakly. “It was her idea, but thank God it didn’t happen. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He soothed your arms. “You should’ve talked to me. Even if I want to, I can’t read your mind, honey.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I’m working on my communication issues. It’s just… I guess I wanted to suppress that jealousy since she is my friend, but, yeah, I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Joe.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times if it means getting you back.” You started to pull back, so his arms swiftly engulfed you. “Please… I can’t lose you again.”

“No, no,” you whimpered and quickly brushed off your tears. “I’ll do something bad again, I’ll break your heart, and the cycle will be repeated.”

Joe pressed your body close to him and kissed your temple as he mumbled. “You don't know that. We’ll work together, communicate better, and—”

“Joe, stop,” you whispered sadly. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He grabbed your face with one hand and shook his head. “You’re hurting me by acting like this. Acting as if you don’t deserve to be loved because of your mistakes.” He pressed his lips against your forehead.

You could feel your body melting against his, recovering the heat it had missed. “You’ll end up hating me.”

“I could never hate you,” Joe whispered firmly. He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “We may fight, I may get mad, you may act stupidly, but I will never hate you, baby.”

The pet name squeezed your heart. Your hands nervously lay on his chest, caressing him lovingly. 

“I’ll go back to therapy,” you mumbled. “I wanna get better for our relationship, for my friendships—”

“And for you,” he completed. “You have to do it for yourself.”

You nodded and forced a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

Joe tightened his hold around your waist and whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach. “This old thing?”

He smirked and gave your dress a once-over. “I burnt one of your sweatshirts.”

The smile vanished. You frowned, completely taken aback. “What? Which?”

“The green one. The one that was mine but you started using it as a pajama?” At your nod, he continued. “I hugged it every night since it smelled like you.”

You pouted, feeling the pang of guilt again.

“Don’t feel too bad; I jerked off to it every night too.”

Oh. Your cheeks turned red. “So… you didn’t fuck anyone else?”

He gave you a deadpan look. “Didn’t even cross my mind. I was too busy crying or using my hand with your sweatshirt pressed on my face.”

You covered your face as you giggled. “Didn’t I forget a thong or anything smaller?”

Joe shook his head, his heart beating faster at the sound of your laugh. “Searched all around the apartment, but Mary and Paul did a good job packing all your stuff.”

“And how did you burn it?”

He hesitated before replying, “When I saw the pictures of Styles entering your house… I had a breakdown. I thought the worst, and in the midst of it, I threw the sweatshirt to the fireplace.”

You curled your lip and rested your head on his chest. “I’m sorry. I never did it with the intention to make you jealous. He really is just a friend.”

“A friend that wants to fuck you,” he mumbled bitterly. 

Smirking, you pulled back. “Maybe, but I don’t want him.” You whispered in his ear, “He isn’t you.”

Joe felt a weight lifted off his shoulders at the reassurance.

He nodded, caressing your face again—he couldn’t believe he had you back in his arms—and said, “I’ve been trying to contact you every single day. I went to all your houses, to your friends’ and families’, sent you emails….”

You frowned. “Wait, you went to my family’s house?”

“Yeah. To your mom’s, your sibling’s, your cousin’s.”

“What?” you mumbled, confused. “They never told me that.”

Knowing your family, they probably thought they were protecting you by keeping that information to themselves. 

“It was very awkward,” he admitted. “Your cousin didn’t remember me and thought I was a Jehovah’s witness.”

You chuckled loudly before covering your mouth self-consciously… but you were with Joe, your Joe, your other half who would never judge you, so you kept laughing carelessly.

Joe couldn’t help but join you as he recalled that long day at your cousin’s house. 

“... and then I even texted you to your old Wattpad account.”

“You what?!” you gasped. “How did you remember my username?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s difficult to forget a name like ‘NiallHoransDyedHair69.’”

Your cheeks were turning scarlet. “OMG, I told you that once!”

Joe shrugged. “Just so you know… your One Direction fanfic is still there.”

“What?!”

“I read some chapters.”

You looked at the balcony behind him and wondered if throwing yourself would be enough to end the suffering. 

“What would thirteen-year-old Y/N say about Harry Styles now being in love with you?”

“He is not,” you muttered. “Joe, he is a really nice guy. You two should meet—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted you. “I’ve already punched him a hundred times in my dreams.”

You squinted your eyes. “Wait, don’t change the topic… You had to create a Wattpad account.”

“Sadly.”

“Did you look up your name?”

He frowned. “No…”

But his tone betrayed him. You gasped, covering your mouth. “You did!”

Joe looked to the ground awkwardly. “I saw some pretty weird shit and quickly closed the app.”

You giggled and placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly. “It’s just fanfiction, and believe me, there are worse stuff on—”

His lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, and both of his arms dropped to your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I can’t help it when your laugh is so cute,” Joe mumbled before kissing you again.

You held onto his shoulders and let yourself melt back in him, in the incessant craving you’ve had for a month. Going from daily intimacy to none had stricken you both, and you could tell by his hard erection brushing your hip. 

“Joe…” you whined when his kisses lowered to your jaw. “Don’t start something we won’t be able to end.

“Who said that?” 

His hands lowered to grasp your ass tightly, making you moan. You looked behind you to the entrance. 

“No one’s coming,” he assured you. “And there are no cameras. They know shit like this happens here.”

Your mind was screaming at you to return to the event, to sit on your assigned chair and clap politely at every award… but Joe’s lips had reached that spot under your ear while his hands were bunching up your dress to caress your thighs.

“I need you,” Joe whined as his hips stuttered against you like a desperate dog. “Please, baby.”

He gently grabbed your right hand and placed it over his hard-on. “Look what you did. This is all from you.”

You gripped him and gulped. God, you wanted him just as badly…

Without overthinking it, you started unbuckling his belt. He kissed you hungrily as he pushed you to the couch, gently hovering over you. You messily shoved down his pants and briefs, spat on your hand, and stroked him. 

Joe moaned and dropped his head on your shoulder. “D-don’t. I won’t last. Need to be inside you.”

You helped him bunch up your dress and move your underwear to the side. As he pressed his tip on your entrance, you suddenly gasped and sat up.

“Wait, I’m not on the pill anymore.”

He froze and sighed deeply. “I don’t have a condom.”

You bit your lip nervously; the lust was clouding your mind. “Just pull out at the end.”

Joe looked up at you surprised. “You sure?”

Mary would kill you if she knew, but you nodded and pecked his nose. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

He scoffed, smirking. “I can list a few things.”

You spread your legs wide and whined. “That’s a problem for our future selves.”

Joe considered himself a smart man, but seeing you beneath him with your pussy already dripping for him was blurring every objective thought. 

He placed your legs around his hips and slid into you, both of your moans filling the empty rooftop. 

“Fuck,” Joe grunted at your bare tightness.

You arched your back and pleaded for more, which he didn’t hesitate to give you. There was no time nor patience for lovemaking; you both needed to discharge the suffering from the entire month. 

Joe raised your legs to his shoulders and started pounding into you roughly. You whined and clawed at his shirt, opening it messily. He shoved down your dress straps until your breasts spilled out. 

He kissed your ankle before leaning forward, doubling you pleasurably and hitting a deeper spot. You were trying to be quiet, but it was impossible with his large cock claiming you again. 

“Joe, don’t stop,” you moaned as your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling it. 

He groaned and grasped one of your breasts, his thumb grazing your nipple. “You feel so good, baby. Missed this pussy.”

You pulled him down to a filthy kiss, whining at the way your body was bending. “Yours. I’m y-yours, Joe.”

Joe’s cock twitched inside you in response. He bit your bottom lip before mumbling, “I know. No one else could ruin you like me, huh?”

You nodded and whimpered, trying to elaborate a normal sentence. “Y-yes. Need you all t-the time.”

His left hand wandered to your neck, squeezing softly. Your pussy clenched hard, making him smirk. “Like to be treated like a slut?” You could only nod and moan. His hold tightened. “Moan my name, princess. Who do you belong to?”

“To you, Joe,” you whined. “Faster, please. P-please, baby.”

He pulled back and gripped your hips before accelerating his pace. Your moans got uncontrollably loud, so he quickly stopped. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered embarrassedly. 

Joe soothed your hip reassuringly with one hand as the other loosened his tie. He took it off completely and doubled it. “Open your mouth, honey.”

You gulped hesitantly but let him put the tie on your mouth. 

“I love your moans, but we don’t want our hard launch to be like this, right?” Joe joked. 

Your giggle turned to a muffled moan as his fast pace came back. The sound of his hips slapping against yours felt like a sacred harmony to your ears.

He bit his lip and threw his head back as he tried to prevent his upcoming orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

For a second, you got distracted by the sight of him. His neck glistened with the moonlight as drops of sweat traveled to his chest, revealed by the messily opened shirt. He seemed on the verge of reaching heaven, and it was all because of you. 

You were making him look so helpless and filthy. Right then and there, you were sure he would never leave you. Joe was yours forever. 

“God, I’m not lasting long, baby,” he whimpered. “Need you to come first.”

Knowing his hands were busy already, you rubbed your clit and bit the tie hard. The mix of his fullness and your touch was enough to trigger your orgasm. 

You arched your back involuntarily and screamed into the tie as you came hard around him, gripping his cock tightly. 

Joe whimpered at the feeling, knowing he was a second away from finishing. He resisted, prolonging your orgasm, then pulled out and finished all over your bunched-up dress and legs. 

You gasped and sat up, staring at the wild sight dripping on you. “Joe…”

He was panting, still recovering his breath, as what he did clicked in his mind. His eyes went wide. “Shit! I’m so sorry.”

You looked at each other in shock before breaking down into laughter.

“Mary will murder me,” you said.”

Joe nodded and tried to wipe away his cum with his pocket square. “Probably will murder me first.”

You caressed the nape of his neck as he readjusted your dress carefully. The white stains were still obvious. 

“It’s okay, I just need to sneak into the dressing rooms and get my red carpet dress,” you assured him. 

But he remained nervous as he helped you up and kept wiping the stains. You stopped him with a tender smile. “It’s okay, baby.”

Joe sighed and threw the bundled-up pocket square to the closest trashcan. You kissed his cheek and buttoned his shirt.

“I hope you unblock me after this,” he said

“I’ll think about it,” you joked before patting his chest. “We should get back.”

He grabbed your hand instinctively and led you both inside. Soon, you would part ways, so he wanted to enjoy the short time he had left with you. 

Once the elevator’s doors closed, Joe pulled you into a fierce kiss, backing you to the wall. You giggled against his lips and tried to pull back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. I remembered I have to wait until the afterparty to kiss you, and I just… had to do it one last time, you know?” he whispered while his thumbs stroked your cheeks. 

You smiled weakly, remembering the reality of your hidden relationship. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Mmm, I think I love you more.”

He smirked at your teasing. “Nope. I love—”

The elevator announced its arrival to the first floor. Reluctantly, Joe stepped back and let his hands drop to his sides. 

“See you later,” you whispered reassuringly before walking out. 

Joe stepped out of the elevator and stared at your distancing form with longing eyes. A second, a minute, and not even an hour with you was enough time. 

His left hand fidgeted with the square box in his pocket as he wondered what could’ve been if the month-old drift hadn’t happened. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, you were rushing behind curtains to reach the backstage dressing rooms. Some assistants and camerographers gave you confused looks, but no one had enough time to process it before you were gone. 

Your dressing room was empty with just your previous dress and heels bundled up on the floor. After some shaking and dusting off, you put it on and walked out. 

Right on the door, you almost crashed with the event assistant from before, the one that sat you between Joe and Harry. She was pale and clutching a clipboard to her chest while a tall man stood behind her with crossed arms. 

“Miss Y/L/N, we’ve been looking for you,” he said in the deepest voice you had ever heard. “Did this woman ask you for money in exchange for a seat rearrangement?”

Your only acting experience had been in a school play’s version of The Wizard of Oz as a background tree, but you gave the performance of your life as you frowned and shook your head. 

“No, I’ve never seen this woman in my life,” you lied. “Am I in trouble for sitting at the wrong table? Oh, I’m sorry! I just wanted to be next to my friend, that’s all.”

The man narrowed his eyes, looking from the assistant to you. “You need to be on your assigned chair, ma’am. The camera crew could get confused.”

You nodded and hugged yourself with fake embarrassment. “Alright, will do. Sorry for the inconvenience!”

He gave the woman a last bad glare before walking away. The woman sighed deeply and clutched her chest. “I almost got fired there. Thank you, miss.”

Before you could assure her that everything was fine, she hugged you and whispered. “I’ll make sure the cameras get all your best angles and that the marketing team posts you a lot on the Grammy’s socials.”

“Oh, that’s not—”

“Let me escort you to your original seat!” She grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the backstage. “They’re just gonna announce Song of the Year.”

Sabrina and her friends were chatting at the table with smiles that vanished when you arrived. They stared at the blonde singer confused, but she smiled and motioned to your seat with her head. 

“Sit down. Sarah is getting to the best part of the story,” Sabrina said casually. 

Awkwardly, you sat down and greeted her friends before pretending to understand what they were gossiping about. 

You discreetly glanced at your previous table and, of course, your eyes met Joe’s. Your heartbeat got so loud that it muffled every sound in the room. Now that your problems were water under the bridge, you could remember the reasons you loved him so hard. 

Besides his obvious good looks, Joe was the smartest, sweetest, and funniest guy you had ever met. Since the day you met, your brains had connected, even before your hearts did, and there was no one who understood you like he does.

“Welcome back to the Grammys!” The host popped your bubble as he talked to the cameras. 

He introduced the presenter for the next award and you clapped along with the audience. The nominated songs were mentioned along with a brief glimpse of each. 

Sabrina grabbed your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Good luck,” she whispered. 

You had forgotten both of you were nominated, but quickly wished her the same after the Manchild’s chorus played. 

“And the Grammy goes to…” said the presenter, opening the envelope. “Closed Doors by Y/N Y/L/N.”

Shit. You had left the speech Mary wrote in your purse back on Harry’s and Joe’s table. 

Everyone clapped and stood up just as the camera got closer to your face like a giant metallic box ready to eat you.

You forced a smile and walked to the stage, mentally screaming to yourself to avoid tripping with your own dress.

An event crew member helped you on the stairs and led you to the center of the stage, where the presenter congratulated you while giving you the shiny award. 

It was your third one since you started making music, so your nerves were slightly less uncontrollable. 

“Uhm…” you said into the mic before you froze. 

Beneath the warm lights, the various cameras and the hundred eyes plastered on you… a realization popped in your mind: this wasn’t the life you wanted. 

You weren’t born for fame, awards, or money. None of it had ever made you happy; not at the start and definitely not now. 

“I’m retiring,” you announced with a bright smile. Gasps and murmurs ran over the room. “I love writing, so if you want me to write you some songs you can talk with my manager and best friend, Mary.” 

You pointed at the audience in the back. “It’s the beautiful woman with the pink dress. Yeah, that one. Deal with her. I love you, Mary. Thank you for everything. Uhm…”

People were still whispering, and surely Twitter looked the same. 

This would definitely be your last time on a stage, so you took everything off your chest.

“The Godfather is so boring.” A few gasps came from the crowd. “Tarantino is so overrated and Paul Dano is an amazing actor.” Some claps and whistles. “Zayn Malik was the best One Direction member. Sorry, Harry!” Laugh and applause were the response. 

A life running from paparazzi, flashing lights, and fans wasn’t fulfilling you the way it seemed to do for your peers. True happiness for you came from the quiet moments in your room, the crazy plans with your friends, the soft whispers of your lover in the night.

Joe. Oh, Joe.

You looked around the audience and the simple sight of him made you smile. 

“I love you, Joe,” you said right into the microphone.

The gasps and cheers were loud now as your words shocked yet confused the audience.

A camera pointed at Joe, whose eyes were wide and cheeks were red. 

“I never thought I would find—” you stopped talking when it hit you that pouring your heart out in front of millions was probably not the best idea. 

You bunched up the bottom of your dress while holding the award in your free hand and rushed to the stairs. An assistant swiftly helped you take two stairs at a time before you ran to Joe. 

The cameras were still following you as Joe caught you in his arms and accepted your passionate kiss. 

People cheered, shouted, and applauded like a Super Bowl finale was happening in front of them. 

“I do. I wanna marry you,” you whispered to your boyfriend with a shaky, emotional voice. “If y-you still want me—”

Joe held your face and kissed you again, evoking more crowd chaos. “Of course I still want to marry you, silly.”

You chuckled as your eyes got tearful. This was it, what you had always wished for: to do whatever the fuck you wanted.

After grabbing your purse and giving Harry a quick side hug, you held Joe’s hand and dragged him out of the venue, the cameras still on you and people shouting encouraging words as you passed by them. 

“You’re insane,” Joe chuckled the second the doors closed behind you. 

You smirked. “Your fault.”

He rolled his eyes playfully before pulling out the small box from his pocket. With trembling fingers, he opened it to reveal the most gorgeous ring. 

You gasped at the sight of it. “What the fuck, it’s perfect!”

It was similar to the ones you usually used, so it would match perfectly in your hand. Joe held your hand and sighed, “I had a whole speech planned but you kinda ruined it.”

“Nooo,” you whined. “Give me a summary while we run to the car.”

Joe frowned. “Run to the—” He turned around to follow your gaze and noticed the hundreds of paparazzi rushing to you. “Shit.”

He slid the ring on the correct finger, gave your hand a soft kiss and followed you to the closest exit door. 

Mary was already there with her arms crossed over her chest. She finished her champagne glass and approached you. 

You forced a smile. “Mary! Hey… Uhm, so… things happened.” 

A smirk slowly grew on her face. “The driver is arriving. I’ll get another room. Have fun, lovebirds.”

Joe blushed, never getting used to your friend’s bluntness, while you hugged her and whispered a genuine ‘I love you’ in her ear.

The car arrived. 

Mary took the Grammy from your hand. “I’ll receive the others if you win. Just gonna pretend I’m you, thank my whole family, and then curse my ex.”

Before you could defend yourself, Joe opened the backseat door and helped you in. He waved goodbye to Mary too and followed inside. 

The moment the door closed behind him, you pulled him to hover over you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you mumbled as you kissed all over his face. 

Joe smiled lovingly and enjoyed the feeling of your lips on him. It seemed insane that for a month he thought he would never have you like this again.

“Wait, you haven't formally asked me,” you realized and took the ring off. “Do it again. Speech and all.”

He rolled his eyes but accepted it and cleared his throat. His voice turned serious as he started, “Since the day I met you, I’ve known I never wanted to stop hearing your laugh. Since the first time I kissed you, I’ve known I won’t be able to survive without your love.”

Your eyes were already getting tearful while your cheeks were hurting from how wide you were smiling. 

“When I imagine my future, I see you by my side, in the good and in the bad, with ten kids or ten cats—”

“Ten?!”

Joe teasingly placed a finger on your lips to shush you and finished, “Maybe just six kids, then. I’ll give you the world if you want it; I’ll run away from California and live on a prairie if you ask me to… I would do anything and everything just to never lose you. So…” 

He pretended to take the ring from his pocket and awkwardly knelt on the car’s floor. “Will you make me the happiest person in history by spending the rest of my life with me as my partner, my best friend, my wife, and the love of my life?”

Your voice was trembling as you tearfully accepted. Joe chuckled at your reaction, slid the ring on the correct finger, and kissed your hand again. Oh, you could watch him do that a million times.  

“Together forever?” you whispered.

Joe caressed your cheek before pulling you to a firm kiss. “Forever.”

---

a/n: wow! thanks for the support guys. this is insane jsjs hope you liked it. maybe i can write a part 3... or not

(Joe Keery x Fem!Singer!Reader)

Summary: Watching Sabrina arrest Joe awakens a fierce jealousy inside you—time to remind your boyfriend who he belongs to.

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (m!receiving oral, deepthroating, unprotected p in v), established secret relationship, reader is chronically offline, insecurity and jealousy themes, ANGST

a/n: the 1k special! this is dedicated to all of you. im so grateful for your support. love u forever.   -liv

Befriending musicians is boring until you find a genuine connection. It may be a girl with your same humor that will end up producing songs with you, or it may be a handsome, shy man who has your same music taste and ends up kissing you after letting you rant about why Ringo Starr was the best Beatle.

Both of them were in the Austin City Limits festival lineup, right on the same day, with your show between them. 

Your dear friend and fellow singer Sabrina texted you the night before to have you as her ‘Juno’ arrested person. But even though you really wanted to, there was no time with your presentation following hers. 

Y/N: oh, but I can tell Joe! he loves doing random stuff and people won't see it coming!!

Sabrina: which Joe?? Keery?

Y/N: ofc dummy, he’s downstairs cooking something. i’ll talk to him asap.

Sabrina: ahhh right. forgot u two were dating lollll

It had been an odd message, you couldn’t lie, but it was Sabrina; she was silly sometimes. 

You still remembered the day you met her vividly. She went backstage after one of your concerts and begged you to go to her birthday party, claiming she was one of your biggest fans and saying, “I’ve DM’ed you for months and you never answer!” which made you re-download Instagram. 

While she was a complete pop star with the million fans, the blonde hair, and the catchy songs, you were more of an indie, sad-songs, barely-went-to-any-events singer. Some of your songs got extremely famous on TikTok and it overwhelmed you to the point of closing all your socials. But at her birthday party, you realized how many of your fellow singers admired you. 

They convinced you to reopen your socials and to attend some parties with them, yet after forcing yourself for a month, you went back to your home studio with your favorite producer and your guitar to write a song about how much you hated the music industry.

Sabrina loved it. She texted you, posted you on her stories, tweeted one of your lyrics, and sent you memes on Tiktok. God, she was insistent. But… she was funny and caring, so you let yourself have a different friend.

Joe loved your songs more, though. 

At one of the many parties Sabrina dragged you to, the host begged you to sing on stage. You refused, but there’s not much one can do against social pressure, and you sang your little sad song you wrote at fifteen that people at Tiktok used for their sad ship edits.

Joe approached you at the bar. “Hey.”

He had been thinking of a hundred opening lines, but when he reached your side and smelled your perfume, his mind went blank.

You lowered your second vodka cranberry and smiled politely at him. “Hi.”

Joe cleared his throat and sat on the stool next to yours. “Big fan.”

His obvious nervousness was endearing for you. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

He blinked, taken aback, but replied calmly, “Joe.”

You weren’t a constant show watcher, preferring movies, so Stranger Things didn’t even ring a bell in your mind. 

You shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Really? Had no idea,” Joe joked, making you chuckle. Wow, he was already finding your laughter cute. He tried to be discreet about his crush on you and started some small talk. “I’ve been a fan since 2018.”

You narrowed your eyes and smirked. “I don’t believe you.”

“I am!” he insisted and pulled out his phone. 

He scrolled quickly for almost a minute until he found an old Instagram story he had posted for his close friends. It was a screenshot of your first album with the text, “I’M OBSESSED.” 

Your jaw dropped as you placed your hand on his bicep—oh, he was strong. “Wow, I hardly meet OG fans. Most come from my last one.”

Joe got so distracted by your sudden touch that he forgot to exit Instagram. The next old story appeared, a screenshot of your Instagram page with the text, “And the singer is so fucking hot. I’m gonna marry her.”

Your cheeks turned red. “Oh—” 

He hurriedly closed the app and accidentally dropped the phone on the wet bar. You rescued it before it hit the water and chuckled at his clumsiness. 

“I don’t… It was a long time— I didn’t even remember—” Joe stumbled over his words.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Odd way to ask me to marry you, but sure. Let’s do it.”

Joe smiled and chuckled nervously. “You accept?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, you’re hot too. Isn’t Las Vegas close by?”

That night, you didn’t go back to Sabrina’s California mansion. Instead, you found yourself at a mini golf court with Joe until three in the morning. In less than two weeks, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

For almost two years, Joe and you had managed to keep your relationship a secret. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide it; it was more about needing privacy. People were hungry to know every detail about your personal life, so it felt great having Joe all to yourself.

Joe was always insisting that he didn’t really care if people knew, but you were a bit paranoid and overprotective of him. Even though Stranger Things was a huge success, Joe never felt assaulted by paparazzi or fans. He could walk across a park, sit in a cafeteria, and have a calm time. But if people knew he was dating you… that peace would be gone.

After writing some songs on Short n’ Sweet for her, Sabrina and you got closer. You had never written such horny, sexy lyrics, but dating Joe provoked sensations you never thought possible.

Sabrina knew about Joe. She hadn’t met him, not even the night you met him, but she was on your close friends and saw your constant pics and videos with him. Since Espresso ended up being such a big hit and opened many doors for Sabrina, you had almost no time to see each other.

Sabrina: ahhh right. forgot u two were dating lollll

You kept staring at the message for two long minutes, still trying to understand the mood.

Y/N: for almost half a year lol. keep up girlie

Sabrina: when is the hard launch coming? a tip: don't have him staring at one of ur videos!

The memory of her ex-boyfriend, Barry something, appearing on the Please, Please, Please video made you chuckle. Her producers, her closest friends, and you had warned her not to do it, but Sabrina was stubborn.

Y/N: dont worry. yk i dont like shooting music videos

Sabrina: bo-bo-boring!

Y/N: will probably hard launch a picture of us in our wedding day lmao

She left you on read, but you paid it no mind. You kept mentally preparing for tomorrow’s festival. Your fans almost died when you announced your appearance. Some of them nicknamed you ‘shooting star’ since they saw you once or twice a year. 

Joe finished cooking your favorite dish, chicken lasagna, and set the table while you talked about the next day’s event.

“Oh, Brina texted me,” you remembered. “She wanted me as her Juno arrest for tomorrow, but I think it’ll be funnier if it’s you.”

Joe stopped serving your plate. “What the hell is a Juno arrest?”

You briefly explained Sabrina’s bit and looked for videos. “It’s always a celebrity. She arrested Millie last year, I think.”

He was very hesitant about the whole idea, not really seeing the funny part of it. 

“Joe, everyone’s hyped ‘cause Stranger Things is returning next month,” you tried to convince him. “People will love it. I will love it. I literally wrote that song about you, baby.”

“But… okay, fine,” he gave up. “Just ‘cause you want it.”

You giggled and kissed his nose, but Joe grabbed your hips and pressed his lips against yours. “And just ‘cause I’m the song’s muse.”

“Partly. Sabrina’s ex also inspired her and—”

Joe scrunched his nose. “Ew, ew. Don’t remind me I share songs with a cheater.”

Throughout the night, he kept kissing you and making you laugh until the festival’s stress vanished from your mind.

But almost twenty-four hours later, as you watched Sabrina’s show from a backstage television… you regretted all your recent choices. 

Sabrina, looking extremely hot with a purple dress and her messy curls, was performing her Juno arrest, asking Joe for his name. “Joe, it’s cuffing season.”

The crowd roared wildly as your boyfriend excitedly offered his hands for the handcuffs while grinning broadly. 

Sabrina passed the fluffy pink handcuffs to a security guard and giggled, “You seem so eager! That’s rare.”

Joe bit his bottom lip as he reached for the cuffs. Once he got them, he waved the object to the camera and a flustered, blushing Sabrina covered her chuckles with her hand.

“This next song is dedicated to Joe, everybody,” she said.

Your head started to ache, your left eye started to twitch, and your hands were turned to clenched fists. Other crew members kept watching the television, not noticing as you rushed back to your dressing room.

You weren’t a jealous person. Not that much. It obviously made you uncomfortable whenever someone flirted with your man in front of you but it never made you genuinely insecure.

But his reactions… his excited smile he usually only gave to you.

And then there was Sabrina, looking so beautiful and sexy with her high heels, sparkly dress, and suggestive poses. 

Oh, God… Joe would be in the first row, watching the Juno pose of the night. You felt on the verge of passing out. 

What were you thinking by offering your boyfriend to be seduced by one of the hottest women alive?! 

You closed the door behind you and, with shaky hands, grabbed the nearest cushion. That damn message from the night before was making everything worse in your mind. You screamed your lungs out into the cushion, effectively muffling your screams.

Sabrina: ahhh right. forgot u two were dating lollll

What did she fucking mean by that?! How do you forget that?! 

You threw the cushion at the wall and pulled at your hair anxiously. A thousand fatalistic thoughts invaded your mind in milliseconds.

Sabrina wanted to steal your boyfriend; it was obvious. It made all the sense in the world. Why wouldn’t she? Joe is the cutest man ever. And, oh, he definitely wanted to fuck her too. Who wouldn’t? She was hot, sexy, adorable, and… for some reason she was never wearing jeans.

You felt an immediate guilt at the sort-of slut-shaming against your friend. Sabrina was one of your few genuine friendships in the industry. She had a unique humor and was always kind to you. It wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions.

Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo played in your mind. Oh, shit. Sabrina had done it before, according to the song. You had never asked her about the truth behind it, but if the Olivia girl wasn’t lying… You weren’t one to call a woman a ‘whore’ or ‘slut,’ but the horrible word ‘homewrecker’ appeared at the tip of your tongue.

You grabbed the closest thing you found—a sunscreen bottle—and threw it at the wall. “Stupid, stupid. I’m so stupid!”

“Umm…”

The sudden voice behind you stopped your heart. Gasping, you turned around and found a backstage assistant holding a water bottle at the end of the dressing room. She seemed absolutely terrified of you. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Was just going to leave and—"

“It’s okay! I’m sorry,” you interrupted her with a forced smile. “I didn’t notice you, uhm… Thanks for the water.”

The assistant slowly placed the bottle on the table and walked towards the door, her back glued to the wall to avoid approaching you.

You licked your lips nervously and looked at the floor, ashamed. When she reached the door, you said in a shaky voice, “I really appreciate the water!”

The woman was out in a flash. You slumped down on the couch and rested your head in your hands. “What am I doing…?”

The door opened and closed as your best friend—and manager—entered swiftly. She was typing on her phone while she spoke. “You’ll be on stage at fifteen. Everyone’s ready, the fans—”

“Am I crazy?” You rose to your feet and grabbed her arms. “Didn’t you see what just happened?”

Mary looked up from her phone, frowning. “Ehm… Sabrina’s show?”

“No! I mean, yes. When she arrested Joe and—” you tried to find non-dramatic words. “And almost fucked him right there in front of everyone!”

She sighed deeply. “Girl, they’re actors. They were acting. You know what that is?”

Mary instinctively entered Twitter to check what people were saying about you, but the first tweet was tonight’s Juno arrest. She paled and tried to quickly cover the screen.

“Show me, show me,” you whined as she raised her phone out of your reach. “Mary, please!”

“Okay, but let me schedule you an appointment with your therapist for tomorrow first.”

You took it from her hands and felt your stomach drop. The tweet had almost half a million likes already. All the internet was ‘shipping’ your boyfriend with Sabrina.

“Girl, give me—” Mary tried to recover her phone. 

You turned away and looked for Joe’s name in the search tab. Everyone, like, literally everyone, was talking about how cute they would be as a couple and how obvious his crush for her was.

“I’m gonna pass out,” you mumbled, dropping the phone on the carpet. You knelt down and tried to calm your breath. 

Mary whimpered, looking around for something to help. She passed you the water bottle. “Here. Drink, breathe… Umm… Okay, let’s be rational. People think Joe’s single, so it’s normal for—”

“I doubt they ‘ship’ her with everyone she arrests. People noticed the chemistry between them,” you snapped. “That wasn’t acting, Mary. I’ve seen Sabrina flirt at parties a thousand times, and Joe, well… with me, you know?”

Mary knelt next to you and seized your shoulders. “Exactly. With you. He wants you. He loves you. I’ve never seen a man so in love with someone, baby. Twitter doesn’t know shit, okay?”

You crawled to the table and grabbed your phone, determined to download the app. Mary reached for your phone, but you kicked her away. 

She held your leg and pushed you to the floor. “Don’t!”

You rolled around and crawled away. “Leave me alone!”

“No! I’m your manager so you have to obey me.”

“Literally no, it’s the opposite—

Mary pulled you back by your ankle. “Give me that phone, young lady!”

“We’re the same age, idiot.”

The door opened and an event crew member leaned in. She looked around until her eyes found you two on the floor. “Uhm… Okay? Miss Carpenter is wrapping up. I’ll need Miss Y/L/N in five minutes to get her ready.”

Mary stood up and forced a smile. “Thank you, she’ll be there.”

The woman nodded and looked at her clipboard. “Oh, and Mr. Joe Keery is coming to say hi.”

“No!” you whined but the woman was already gone. You looked horrified at Mary. “He can’t see me like this. I’m a mess. I’m gonna break down and—”

Mary gave you a harsh slap. You gasped and held your cheek confused and shocked. 

She pulled you up and gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me, idiot. Half of the crowd out there came for you. Your fans miss you; they haven’t heard you sing in almost six months, so you’re going to forget everything about your personal life for an hour and give them the best show of the night, understood?”

It was true; the last time you had sung live had been on SNL at the start of the year… which you still regretted to the present. It had been a good presentation, but you were forced to attend the afterparty and socialize. 

Horrible scenario for you.  

You nodded quietly, still soothing your cheek. “But… If I see Joe, I’ll cry. I just know it! And I’m a horrible liar!”

Mary groaned and looked around the room. “Uhm, alright. Hide somewhere; I’ll distract him.”

And then you heard his voice coming from the hallway. 

“Oh, no, no,” you whimpered. 

The bathroom was too far away, so you jumped into a tight, wooden closet and closed the doors firmly. You sat down between shoes and covered your mouth, feeling like you were in A Quiet Place. 

Mary sighed deeply, mentally preparing for the next five minutes. A soft knock came before Joe opened the door. He had an excited smile that wavered at the lack of your presence.

“Hi, Mary. Umm, where is she?”

Mary hid her shaky hands behind her. “Changing. She’s getting on stage soon and— No, wait!”

Joe walked to the bathroom, opened the door, and frowned at the emptiness. “What—?”

A boot beneath you slipped and made you lose your balance. You tried to cling to a dress, but your feet stumbled and made you fall out of the closet. 

“Ouch!” you whined as your butt hit the dressing room’s carpet. 

Mary wanted to die, while Joe just smiled and rushed to help you up. “There you are!” 

You avoided his eyes and pretended to wipe off dirt from your dress.

“Look what I brought you,” he sang before waving those damn pink handcuffs. 

You cleared your throat and mumbled, “Oh, you did that? Okay.”

Joe frowned but kept smirking. “What do you mean? You told me to! Wait, you watched it, right?”

Well, you had to keep lying. You shrugged and crossed your arms. “No, sorry, I was… preparing my voice.”

Joe’s jaw dropped. “What? Nooo,” he whined. “It was fun; you were right. I’m sure I can find a video somewhere.”

You froze as he pulled out his phone. If he entered Twitter, he would see everyone’s theories of Sabrina and him dating. 

“Wait—Uhm, I’ll see it later. I have to be on stage soon.”

His eyes widened excitedly. “Oh, right. I’ll be there, front row, cheering for you.”

Joe left the handcuffs on the table and pulled you into a tight embrace. You noticed Mary’s hard eyes behind him while mouthing to you, “Hug him back!”

You awkwardly patted his back, not really in the mood to be near anyone. He pulled back immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… very anxious and on the verge of jumping off a bridge,” you mumbled. 

Joe pouted and kissed your forehead. “Everything will be alright, honey. I promise. No need to be nervous.”

You felt your eyes getting wet. Oh, no, why now? You quickly turned around and pretended to look for your shoes. 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s just an hour,” you whispered. 

Mary noticed Joe’s furrowed brows and intervened, “She needs to be on stage soon, Joe, so… please leave.”

He knew he couldn’t exactly fight your manager, even though she was more of a friend than your employee.

Joe gently held your arm and turned you around. You closed your eyes as he kissed you softly. “I love you. You’ll do great.”

Now you wanted to cry from the guilt. Of course Joe didn’t want Sabrina; he loved you and demonstrated it every day. 

You pulled him into a hug so he couldn’t see your tearful eyes and whispered. “I love y-you too.”

He soothed your back and gave you a final kiss on the cheek. “I cleaned my gallery for tonight. I’m going to record every second of the show.”

Mary stepped between you firmly. “Okay, you’re the sweetest boyfriend ever, we get it. Goodbye!”

She dragged him to the door as he kept looking at you. There was something in your eyes, in your quietness, that worried him. 

“I love you,” Joe repeated before Mary closed the door on his face. 

She sighed deeply and rested her forehead on the door. Usually, you were her best client. You didn’t use social media, you barely went out of your house, you made albums once a year, everyone loved them, and you disappeared again. 

It was the easiest job to manage you. But, of course, everything had to go wrong on the only time of the year that you were going on stage.

“I don’t wanna wear this dress,” you whined at your mirror’s reflection. 

The fairy-like long green dress made sense with your music genre, but now, you could only compare yourself with Sabrina’s outfits. Next to her, you were the most unsexy nun. 

Mary felt like a vein would explode in her head. “You begged for this dress, honey, and we don’t have time to change—” 

You opened the closet and hurriedly changed for something else. There was a tight white dress with revealing cleavage.

“Babe, no.” Mary tried to take it from you. “We haven’t done an outfit test with this; it’s too risky.”

“I wanna wear it.”

“Are you deaf or just ignoring me completely?” Mary was losing her patience. 

You unzipped your long dress and put on the tiny one. It looked too tight on you. “Perfect!”

Mary passed a hand through her hair anxiously. “Y/N, I swear to—”

A knock came from the door as the same crew member arrived to take you to the stage. 

You were trembling from head to toe while you followed the woman. Mary was walking beside you, giving you advice you didn’t listen to.

Three people placed microphones and an earphone while a stylist finished fixing your hair and makeup. 

“Okay, you look hot, just don’t… kneel down or it may break, or show your panties—”

You cut off Mary’s rambling. “I need a shot. Vodka.”

Mary frowned and tried to stop the several crew members that rushed to get you one. “Honey, everything will be fine—”

“No, no. I wanna go home; I hate this. I hate this day—”

“Don’t make me slap you again,” Mary muttered as she squeezed your cheeks. “You got this, Y/N. Listen to the people cheering. They need you. They have traveled from all over the world to see you!”

You whined but nodded. “Alright. I can do this. For the fans.”

“For the fans,” Mary agreed and pushed you to the stage. 

The music and the cheers started the moment you walked in. You awkwardly waved at the crowd and rushed to the microphone. After a small speech you had rehearsed a hundred times, someone passed you your guitar and the show started. 

The few other times you have had a concert have been the same: you get incredibly anxious for a couple of days, but the second you’re on stage you transform to ‘Singer Y/N’ and everything turns out easier.

You avoided looking down at the front row, knowing the moment you saw Joe you’d get nervous again. 

Wow, Joe was watching you perform. Everyone was hearing your last album for the first time live and you felt a bit sad that the debut of it hadn’t been in a concert of your own. 

“Okay, we’ve got time for one more song,” you said, making the crowd whine. You chuckled. “I know, I know. I would stay all night with you if I could.” 

Total lie. Well, no, you would do that for your real fans… in a very small venue and not televised. 

“This one is a gift… An unreleased song.”

Your jaw dropped at the loud level of cheers. They were being too dramatic; you had released an album at the start of the year, and they had been fed enough. 

“I wrote this for…” Suddenly, adrenaline took over your mind. “For my partner.”

This time, you were sure some people had passed out from how loud they had screamed. 

“My partner is here tonight, so yeah… this one is for you, honey,” you said before starting to sing your first romantic song.

On the first row, Joe felt his heart stop. No one around him knew you were singing to him, that those sweet, poetic words were for him. He could’ve cried right there, but in the middle of the song, event assistants escorted him backstage for his upcoming show. 

Once you finished, waved goodbye, and stepped off the stage, you felt your soul come back to your body. 

Mary hugged you tightly. “That was amazing! The last song was so cute, I almost cried!”

You smiled weakly while crewmembers took off all the cables from your body. “I had a great time… Can’t believe I just admitted that.”

“Me neither!” Mary shrieked excitedly. “Oh, this means I can plan a tour—”

“Absolutely not,” you stopped her. 

A hand squeezed your shoulder behind you. “Great show.”

You could recognize that voice in any crowded room. Joe was smirking at you, resisting the urge to kiss you in front of everyone. 

Placing a hair behind your ear, you blushed and smiled. “Thanks. Good luck!”

To anyone around you, it was the first time you had ever interacted. When in reality, you could never get used to his compliments. In your head, it was insane that such a good man like him could love someone as damaged as you.

When you expressed that thought to him, Joe had to sit up from the surprise. He hated that you could see yourself in that way. 

“See you later?” Joe said as the festival announced his stage name.   

You shrugged teasingly. “Maybe.”

He looked you up and down, licked his bottom lip, and swiftly leaned in to whisper, “I’m going to rip that dress off of you at the hotel.”

As if nothing had happened, Joe went onto the stage and started his show, leaving you flustered and shocked. 

Your core clenched at the mental image he had provoked. 

He was a pro with the crowd, talking to them and hyping them up for his songs. You watched your boyfriend, entranced for a minute, until someone tugged your arm hard and pulled you into a hug. 

“I loved your show, girlie!” Sabrina squeals in your ear. She had taken off her heels, so you almost had to double down to hug her back.

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly. 

She pulled back but kept her hands on your shoulders. “You were amazing. Joe said you were nervous, but I didn’t notice.”

You tensed at the mention of your man from her lips. It had been a very small thing, but your mind was already tweaking. 

“We were on the front row watching your show together,” she explained. “He protected me from some fans; you know how they get!”

There were too many people around you that would be potential witnesses of your potential choking of Sabrina Carpenter. No way in hell was she thinking her words weren’t harming you; she wasn’t stupid. 

“Then we got escorted on the last song ‘cause he had to get ready, but he recorded almost all your show. So cute,” she said in a fake voice. 

Well, it had been in a normal tone but in your mind, everything coming from her suddenly seemed fake. 

You felt your stomach drop. “Wait, he didn’t listen to the last song? It was for him.”

She shrugged and gave you a pity look. “Sorry, honey. He heard, like, half of it. He loved what he heard, though!”

Sabrina frowned when you shoved her hands away and hurried to your dressing room. 

It wasn’t really Joe’s fault that he had to leave mid-song, but the fact that Sabrina had been next to him all the time, probably chatting and chuckling since they were both so funny. 

Actually, they weren’t that funny; they just had charisma. There were a thousand funnier people in the world! It wouldn’t be a big deal if you cut off all communication right there with everyone, right now. 

“What happened now?” Mary muttered, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. “I saw they talked to you. Did they confess they have an affair, two kids, and a house in Italy?”

You glared at her, not liking the joke one bit. Mary’s smirk vanished. 

She sat next to you on the couch and placed a hand over your shoulders. “Babe, you can’t let your insecurities ruin your night. You did something big today! You went out of your comfort zone. I’m so proud of you.”

Her last sentence triggered something deep inside your heart. Your eyes got tearful and before you realized it, you were crying with your head on her lap. 

Mary soothed your head and looked worriedly at the door. “Don’t you wanna watch his show? He’d be sad if—”

“I hate this,” you sobbed. “This is not like me. I’ve never been the jealous type, you know it! Tell me I’m not crazy.”

She sighed—she seemed to be doing this a lot with you today—and said in a tender voice. “You’re not crazy. It’s normal to feel like that, but… honey, Joe loves you, and Sabrina is your friend; they would never do anything to hurt you.”

You sat up. “What would you do in my shoes? I know you have jealousy issues.”

Mary’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I’m not… always that jealous. Just—”

“You cut it off with James when he sat next to a girl in an airport.”

“There were a hundred empty seats and he made the conscious choice of sitting next to her. He knew what he was doing, that fucking prick,” she muttered. 

You shook her by the shoulders. “What would you do if you were me?”

“Talk to him about your concerns—”

“I need you to be honest, not healthy!”

“That’s crazy to ask—”

“Mary, please!”

She whined and pushed your hands off her. “Fine! I would deepthroat his cock until the only sound coming from his mouth is my name!”

Your friend covered her mouth, ashamed, while a smirk grew on your face. “A blowjob. Of course! That’s a great idea.”

Mary lay back on the couch, looking at the ceiling, and whispered. “I’ll schedule you two therapy sessions for next week.”

You stood up and started pacing around the couch anxiously. “Okay. You once told me you’re amazing at it. Teach me!”

The manager went still. “Excuse me?”

“At Anne’s dinner last month you said you were great at deepthroating. I told you I can’t do it and Anne said there’s a spray to relax your throat and—”

“I’m not buying you fucking throat spray—”

You dramatically fell to your knees in front of her. “Mary, I’m begging you. Joe’s show lasts an hour. Enough time to get it.”

Mary regretted ever offering to be your manager. “Why can’t you just… try to relax it?”

“I can’t! And Joe is so big—”

Mary covered her ears. “Ew, I don’t wanna know that!”

You jumped to sit next to her and jokingly murmured, “Big, long, veiny cock—”

“Stop!” she whined and pushed you back to the floor. “I told you I don’t need to know about your sex life unless you get accidentally pregnant.”

You hugged her left leg. “C’mon, Mary, just google the closest sex store. I’ll give you a raise.”

“I already earn millions a year thanks to you.”

“I’ll get you a date with Paul Mescal.”

Mary gasped. “You wouldn’t… He has a girlfriend. That singer girl that’s always sorry about something.”

You shook your head with a wide smirk. “Sabrina told me they broke up a month ago. He is single and very ready to mingle.”

Mary shrieked excitedly, stood up, then sat down again. “Okay, okay, alright. I’ll buy your stupid spray.”

Jumping to your feet, you leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you. This is why we’d be wives in a universe where you like girls.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. “I’ll leave it hidden in that drawer. Go watch your man’s performance or I’ll tweet a pic of the spray in your account.”

— — —

Guards and assistants escorted you to a special, secluded place in the front row. You waved at some fans, signed some of their vinyls, and took three selfies. 

Joe noticed the commotion down the stage and smirked at the sight of you, still in that sexy dress with your beautiful eyes up on him. Even after a year and a half of dating, he got flustered by your attention. 

The show continued as planned, but he doubled his efforts to impress you. Joe was deeply in love with you and wished everyone could know it. For a second, he imagined jumping off the stage and claiming your lips without a care in the world. 

But above all, he respected your decisions completely and would never risk exposing your relationship without your consent. 

When Joe finally finished his presentation and left the stage, he walked straight to his dressing room, thanking everyone who stopped him to compliment his show. 

The light was off. Odd.

Joe gasped after he turned it on and saw you sitting cross-legged on the couch. You turned around and smirked. “Hey. Did you see me in the crowd?”

He smiled instinctively and approached you. “How could I not notice my prettiest fan?”

As he leaned down for a kiss, you placed a hand on the nape of his neck and met his lips halfway.

Joe smirked against your lips and let you deepen the kiss while hovering awkwardly over you. His hands caressed your cheeks tenderly. 

But you didn’t want tender and romantic; you needed passionate, hot sex. 

You rose to your feet and shoved him to the closed door. Joe was taken aback by the sudden roughness but welcomed it with a nervous smile. 

He gasped as you attacked his mouth again, pressing your body flushed against his. You could feel his already hard cock restrained by his jeans. 

You locked the door and swiftly started unbuckling his belt. His cheeks turned red. “Here? Are you sure? The walls are kind of thin.”

“Shut up,” you muttered before biting his bottom lip. 

He whined and touched his bleeding lip, surprised… and deeply excited. “You’re feisty tonight, huh?”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.”

Joe gulped at the dark lust in your eyes and nodded quietly. You shoved his jeans and boxers down in one go before falling to your knees. 

After the disgusting spray numbed your throat, you listened several times to Mary's voice message explaining how to give an amazing blowjob. It was the moment to leave your shy self behind and evoke your sexual persona. 

You licked your right hand, grabbed his cock, and rubbed his slit with your thumb. 

“Fuck—!” Joe almost screamed from the pleasure. With one hand he held your head while the other covered his mouth. 

Never had you seen him react like that, so you kept going. Joe threw his head back to the door as you kept pressing and moving your thumb on his tip’s slit, already causing precum to come out of it. 

Your eyes remained on his as you took his tip in your mouth slowly, making him groan at the wet feeling enveloping him.

Joe tangled his fingers in your hair and turned it into an improvised ponytail. He was torn between holding you tenderly or fucking your mouth roughly.

Obeying Mary’s instructions, you sucked the tip and then swirled your tongue around it. 

“Jesus, fuck—” His hips shifted involuntarily.

Your jaw slackened before you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing to create a suction sensation that turned him into a whimpering mess. Joe felt vulnerable, exposed, like a teenager receiving his first blowjob as his body reacted in ways never discovered before.

Thanks to the numbness, you continued pushing him into your mouth until you almost reached his hairy base. Joe looked at you surprised and overwhelmed. No one had ever taken him that far. Not even you. He felt as if one of his many fantasies of you was becoming true right in front of him.

“Just like that, baby,” he grunted as you moved slowly yet urgently. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your tearful eyes stayed on his as you finally took his cock completely, deepthroating for the first time ever. Joe felt himself hardening at the messy sight. He gripped your hair hard, not able to control himself, as he bit his lip to avoid moaning.

But you weren’t backing down. You pulled back to the tip, then pressed forward until your nose touched his pelvis again. Joe was starting to feel his self-control slip through his fingers as his legs trembled with the effort of holding back. He was already close to finishing, and he needed it to last longer.

Joe was in heaven.

You held onto his firm thighs and fastened your pace. It was incredibly difficult to breathe through your nose while your tongue traced around his cock while also sucking him hard. How did so many people enjoy doing this?!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whined loudly, his mind too lost to think clearly. “Y/N, don’t stop. You feel so good, honey.”

The feeling of your throat constricting around him, the tight fullness of his cock into you, your complete surrender to him… Fuck, he was fighting hard to not thrust animalistically.

You gagged slightly and hummed around him, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and he was a goner. Joe’s right hand left your hair and searched urgently for one of your hands. 

A bit confused, you let him hold your hand tenderly.

“Baby, I’m close,” he warned with a ragged, broken voice. You almost laughed at how choked up he sounded, almost on the verge of tears. “Please…”

You took him deeper, staying there and giving him the permission he was desperately begging for. The simple act shattered the last thread of control.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Joe couldn’t suppress the trembling groan and spilled into your mouth. 

The hot, white waves of cum shot into your numb throat like a consuming ocean. His entire body went still as he squeezed your hand tightly. 

And following Mary’s last advice, you swallowed all of it. He sensed it and, for a second, almost got hard again. 

You pulled back, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stuck your tongue out to show him you hadn’t left a single drop. Joe groaned and pulled you up to a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he murmured against your lips. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

You smiled proudly at your success, feeling your peace coming back. Your throat had taken his cock. He was hungrily kissing your lips. He was in love with you and only you.

Joe was yours.

— — —

Life got better after you became a blowjob expert.

Who knew the key to making a man that happy was sucking his cock?

Maybe that was why Mary had so many men desperately calling her. But, well, she now only had eyes for her man.

It was odd seeing your childhood-friend-turned-manager in paparazzi pictures with Paul Mescal.

Joe and the irish actor became good friends after Mary forced all of you to double-date. 

On the opposite stick of friendship, Sabrina and you drifted away slowly until your only communication was exchanging memes once a week. 

You never told her or Joe about your jealousy that night, but why would you? Joe was wrapped around your finger, Sabrina was banned from your private life, and insecurities aren’t eternal.

Months passed and the December holidays were just around the corner. 

Apart from a brief trip to California two days before Christmas, Joe was glued to your side.  You’d share Christmas Eve with your family in London, then fly together to Chicago to spend the holiday with his.

The night before his trip, music videos were playing on a low volume on your television while Joe fucked you on the couch. 

You arched your back and let him pull your hair as you moaned, “Oh, fuck, baby! Harder!”

Joe spanked your ass and railed into you. “Want me to ruin you, honey?”

Nodding desperately, you gripped the cushions and whimpered, “Please, please… Fill me up.”

He loved hearing those words since you started taking birth control pills and let him fuck you raw. Joe had no idea what had sparked this sudden transformation over the past three months, turning your previously tender sex life into something freakishly passionate, but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Gonna be a good girl and take all of me?” Joe grunted while rubbing your clit.

Just as you were about to nod, you noticed Harry Styles’ Lights Up video was playing. Your pussy clenched instinctively at the sight of the shirtless singer. Joe’s eyes followed your gaze before he ceased his movements. 

He turned off the television, gripped your neck, and pulled you to him until his chest met your back. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

Too cockdrunk to process what was happening, you whined. “What? Why are you stopping, babe?”

Joe knew you weren’t even thinking of the british singer when you clenched around him, but he couldn’t ignore the jealousy on his chest. His hold on your neck tightened as he drove into you with a newly found might.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried as he rubbed your clit with his free hand. “I’m close, so close. Don’t stop, baby.”

He bit your earlobe. “Scream my name when you come, sweetheart.”

You arched your back painfully and let the trembling orgasm hit you. It rolled all over your limbs like the warmest, most pleasurable buzz. “Joe!”

At the powerful clench of your pussy around him, he let go and released himself deep inside you.

You both fell faceforward onto the couch, Joe on top of you. He moved your head to the side and gently kissed your cheek. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you hummed weakly. “Amazing.”

Joe pulled his softening cock off you and started looking for a towel to clean you. 

“You want a glass of water?” he asked as he delicately wiped your overwhelmed pussy.

You nodded and pouted, silently asking for a kiss he delightfully gave you. Once he was gone, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. You rolled to the side and squinted your eyes. “I think your mom is calling you.”

From the kitchen downstairs, he yelled, “Answer her! It’s probably about the Christmas dinner!”

Your legs were too weak with the afterglow of it all, so it took you too long to sit up and reach. Just as you grabbed it, the call dropped. You sighed and started to unlock it to call your mother-in-law back… but a notification froze you.

Sabrina: everything’s ready. see u tomorrow :)

Sabrina: remember to delete the texts. cant have her finding out ;)

Sabrina: [PHOTO]

Your head felt dizzy as your stomach did a thousand turns. The phone fell from your hand to the carpeted floor. You couldn’t even bring yourself to open the SMS conversation and snoop more; those messages were enough to mess with your head, your body, your heart… the unbearable pain was everywhere.

For the entire past week, Joe had avoided answering your questions about his upcoming California trip, claiming that it was music-related. You hadn’t paid it enough mind until now. So he was going to California to see her… Wow. Just wow. He hadn’t even mentioned they had each other’s personal numbers, much less that they were friends. 

Or whatever the fuck they were.

Trying not to break down, you got dressed quickly, grabbed your biggest purse, and packed your essentials. 

Joe came back with a pair of boxers on and a big glass of cold water in his hand. “What did she say…?” His voice quieted when he noticed your trembling hands shoving stuff into your bag. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

You closed the purse and walked past him. Joe tried to grab your arm, but you hurried down the stairs. A mix of confusion and fear ran through him as he left the glass on the floor and followed you.

“Y/N, wait! What are you doing?”

He finally took hold of your arm to stop you, stepping in front of you to study your face. Your eyes were wide and glassy, your gaze lost in the wall as your entire body trembled. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered worriedly. “Baby, talk to me.”

The endearing term brought you back to the present. Your sadness turned to anger as you shoved him off you. “Don’t touch me.”

He stepped back, surprised. His chest ached from your words. “What—?”

“Don’t call me, don’t text me, and don’t even look at me. We’re done,” you brokenly mumbled before turning back to the door.

Your coldness struck him as he watched you walk out of your shared apartment. For a second, he thought you could be pranking him… but it wasn’t like you to do something so cruel.

When he heard the elevator down the hallway arrive, he reacted. Joe ran out of the apartment in a flash. “Y/N! Wait! Please—”

The elevator doors closed in his face. He pressed the button anxiously and unsuccessfully. Since he was on the fortieth floor, Joe had to wait for a new one to arrive, but deep down, he knew he had lost you, unannounced and out of the blue.

Inside the elevator, you rested back on the wall while trying to calm your breath. But the realization of it all, of the end of your idealized relationship, crashed into you at once. You covered your mouth to muffle your sobs as you slid down to the floor. 

There was no going back from this pain. 

You were done with Joe.

_

(Dad!Steve Harrington x F!Reader)

Summary: Every time Steve and you found out you were pregnant.

Word count: 15.5k 

Warnings. FLUFF, FLUFF, AND FLUFF! mild smut and a tiny bit of angst, but this is basically different moments of steve and you happily together with children.

FIRST TIME (Nov. 1987)

The world had been saved. You were supposed to go back to normal, as if the past horrific events hadn’t traumatized you two forever. Hawkins was resuming its small town’s rhythm, so it was time for Steve and you to wrap up the tears and move forward.

Quarantine was over, meaning that Steve’s parents were coming back to their house. In a phone call, they hadn’t specified if they wanted you two gone, but Steve didn’t want to be there once they arrived. 

You had moved in with Steve almost two years ago, when his parents got stuck out of town. Your parents still lived around a ten-minute car drive away, and even though they would welcome you with open arms, it felt wrong to move back and bring Steve with you.

You were back at your art teacher’s job at the town’s kindergarten, while Steve was back at the radio station with Robin, which meant there wasn’t a lot of money to get an apartment of your own and survive. Still, Hopper had called some contacts and helped you find a cheap and small one right outside of town.

The Harrington’s mansion had boxes scattered around the living room, ready for the upcoming moving truck. Three days… only three more days in the big mansion you had naively gotten used to. Your new apartment was the size of Steve’s room, so you were saying goodbye to possible karaoke rooms, pingpong tables, giant pools, and hot tubs. 

Packing everything and dividing it into ‘keep’ and ‘donate’ boxes had taken almost a week. An entire seven days where you had felt like absolute shit, attacked constantly with headaches and nausea. Steve had gotten all the pills and medicine available, but you weren’t getting better. He was sure you had food poisoning from the new sushi place Robin had taken you to.

“She has the worst taste in everything. I don’t know why we listened to her.”

Robin had been sick too, but only for two days. You were starting to get worried, your mind already creating hundreds of dark scenarios. But with the moving and the double shifts at his work, the last thing you wanted was to worry your boyfriend too.

One day, after Steve dropped you at the school, you talked with the principal and sneaked out to the hospital. It couldn’t be anything fatal—maybe an ulcer, maybe a really bad worm—but you doubt you would die.

Though, the moment the doctor said the results…you wanted to actually die.

“Congrats, ma’am. You’re pregnant.”

“That’s not possible,” you whispered. “I… We use protection.”

“Which pills?”

You gulped. “...Condoms, actually”

The doctor sighed and smiled weakly. “They aren’t the best method of birth control.”

You had felt so awful, now emotionally too, that you hadn’t called anyone to pick you up; you had walked home, almost as a self-punishment for being so stupid.

The enormous Harrington mansion felt like a mocking image as you entered. The expensive furniture, the tall windows, the wide rooms… An ideal place to form a family, for a kid to grow. Something you couldn’t give to yours.

It was one o’clock; Steve wouldn’t be home until six, so you’d have a long time to cry. You were sobbing as you entered his room and slumped down on the bathroom floor. You hugged yourselfand cried your eyes out, the blood test results balled up in your fist.

Steve was the most wonderful boyfriend you could’ve asked for. He adored you and had always made it clear that he wanted a long life with you. But a kid so soon was never part of the plan. Especially not when you’d had to take double shifts to pay the rent.

You knew Steve was sweet and thoughtful with you, but your pregnant hormones were making your mind spiral. What if he gets angry and breaks up with you? What if he wants you to get rid of it? What if he disappears forever?

One of your cousins got pregnant young too, you remembered. Her boyfriend had promised to be by her side, then left with no trace by her sixth month. Her parents had kicked her to the street and she had lived at your parents’ house until she gave birth and found a job overseas. 

Steve was young, handsome, and full of potential. You were ruining his life by being with him. He was leaving his luxurious mansion to leave with you; now he would be a father and probably never go to college. 

You were the worst thing to happen to him.

A wave of nausea overcame you. Almost stumbling to the ground, you jumped out of bed and hurried to empty your breakfast in the toilet.

As you held your panting self, more anxious, exaggerated thoughts appeared.

What if you leave… now? 

No, you needed Steve. But… he didn’t really need you, right? 

You fell back and rested on the wall as more sobs came. Running away wasn’t an option; you would tell Steve the truth and let fate choose what would happen next.

Among the wails and tears, you fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

— — —

As he parked in his driveway, Steve scowled at the sight of his family mansion. God, he hated it with passion. All of it was a big collection of the worst memories of his awful childhood. The only good thing about it was that you were inside.

The simple thought of you made him hurry out of his car and to the house. He was hungry, but his stomach could wait; he needed you.

The house was quiet. Odd… You always had a record playing while you were doing anything. Reading, cleaning, sleeping, grading papers, every activity had to be accompanied by music.

“Baby?” he asked.

Quiet.

Steve took two steps at a time in the direction of your shared bedroom. The light was off. He opened the door and frowned, “Honey?”

There was a beacon of light coming from the closed bathroom. You were probably taking a bubble bath. He smirked, already taking off his jacket and patting his pant pockets for a condom.

All his lusty thoughts vanished as he opened the door and saw you lying on the floor. His heart dropped just as his knees sank next to you. “Baby? Y/N, wake up, wake up. God, no…”

His hands were shaking when you woke with a gasp. “What—?” you mumbled, surprised and disoriented.

Steve sighed deeply. “Fuck, you’re alive…” He brought you to his chest and embraced you tightly. “I thought… Why the hell are you on the bathroom floor, baby?”

You pulled back and looked at your lap, avoiding his eyes. He noticed your puffy eyes, red nose, and disheveled hair. The anxiety came back. “Shit, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

He raised your arms and inspected you completely. You weakly pushed his hands off. “I’m fine.”

Steve frowned. “You clearly aren’t, honey. What’s going on?”

You stood up with his help and headed to the sink. Avoiding looking at your reflection, you washed your hands and teeth. Steve watched you dumbfounded. He wasn’t used to this quietness, this distance… Something was seriously wrong.

“Y/N, talk to me.”

Your eyes were glued to the ground as you dried your hands and walked back to the bedroom. God, you were brave; you could do this… “I’m fine. How was work?”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Don’t change the topic.” He followed you and grabbed your arm to stop you. “Y/N, I just found you passed out on the bathroom floor. Don’t tell me you…” He gulped and whispered, “Don’t tell me you relapsed.”

You froze at his words, finally looking at him with wide eyes. He really thought you would get high again? After three years of being clean? After stopping for him?

Even though you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for thinking the worst, it broke your heart a bit.

“No,” you mumbled. “You really think… How could you think that?”

Steve dropped your arm and passed a hand through his hair. “I’m—I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry. This is just… I’m confused. Just talk to me. You’re acting weird.”

You licked your lips nervously and sat on the edge of the bed. He knelt between your legs and caressed your cheeks. Your eyes were bloodshot… “Did something happen at school? Or is it your parents? Mine? Did they—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence was loud.

You patted around the bed until you found the balled-up results, giving it to him. “I found out today. Seven weeks.”

Steve stared at the paper in shock, reading and rereading the ‘POSITIVE’ on the end. You gulped, waiting for him to talk, but he remained quiet.

Your eyes filled with tears. “I’m keeping it. I don’t care what anyone says. Don’t care if I’m too young. I’ll have my baby, and I’ll raise it alone if you don’t—”

He cut you off with a deep kiss, his hands holding your cheeks delicately. When he pulled back, he couldn’t stop smiling.

“We’re having a baby... We’re gonna be parents. I’m going to be a dad! Oh, God, baby.” His eyes glistened as he looked down at your flat tummy. He kissed it. “Our child…” He got up and pushed you both to the bed, kissing all over your face. “This isn’t a prank, right?”

You shook your head as he brushed away your tears. “No. I’d never lie about something like that.”

Steve sat down next to you, his eyes on your stomach. He sniffled and looked away, not wanting you to see him crying.

Your heart melted. “Oh, baby… Come here.”

You hugged him, his head on your lap as his arms held you tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m just… This is the best day of my life, honey,” he whispered.

You were taken aback by his reaction, but once you processed it, you started crying again. Not with nerves and sadness anymore, but full of relief and love for the man on his knees in front of you.

Steve chuckled tearfully, sitting up to kiss your lips. “Look at us. Crying together like two idiots.”

You snorted and threaded your fingers through his hair… a curly, soft hair you’d probably see in your child. “And then there were three.”

He was beaming. “Can’t believe you thought I’d leave.”

“Well, I can’t believe you thought I was high.”

His smile wavered. “Sorry ‘bout that. I don’t… I know you wouldn’t…”

But your mind started reeling again. You grasped his biceps and whispered, “What if I do? What if… Steve, what if I’m a bad mom?”

Steve almost flinched, looking at you in shock. “Are you kidding? Baby, you will be the best mom ever. I don’t have the slightest doubt. Dustin and the others love you. Hell, your students already see you as a mom.” He soothed your back and kissed your nose. “And you won’t relapse. I’ll always be here, I got you.”

“I don’t even know how to cook,” you whined.

He scoffed. “And it’ll stay like that. I’ve been in charge of that area for a long time. I won’t stop now.”

You released a shaky sigh, processing everything he had said, and nodded. “Okay… I believe you.”

His hand wandered back to your tummy, his smile widening. “Our baby. We made a baby.”

Suddenly, he stood up and paced around the room. “I’ll start taking double shifts. Shit, I need a better job. I’ll get one; it’s fine. I’ll work on weekends too.”

“I should take a second job too,” you mumbled.

Steve stopped and stared at you as if you had grown a second head. “Absolutely not. In fact, you should quit.”

“What? Of course I won’t!”

“Baby, you need to rest. You’re creating a baby inside you. I’ll handle everything.”

You raised your hands, overwhelmed. “Stop, stop. No. Sit down. You’re stressing me out.” He obediently sat back next to you. “My job isn’t so hard, and they’ll give me maternity leave eventually. It’s fine. But… it won’t be enough. We’ll need a lot of money.”

Steve nodded, watching the window while deep in thought. “I can… ask my parents for money.”

You grimaced. “Are you sure? I can talk with my dad—”

“No, no. Don’t bother them. Your parents would probably help us take care of the baby anyway. But mine…”

“How ‘bout we leave your parents’ money as the last option?” you suggested, knowing nothing was ever easy with them.

Steve sighed and found your hand to gently stroke it. “You’re right. Let’s just… take a step at a time.” He bit his lip hesitantly before saying, “But I already know which crib we’ll get. There’s this cute wooden one on—”

“Wow, wow,” you stopped him. “Why have you been looking at cribs?”

His cheeks turned pink. “There’s a baby store on the way to work, so I sometimes stop to stare at the shop windows and daydream.”

Your jaw dropped before you laughed. “Steve, you manifested this.”

Your boyfriend scoffed. “Yes, since our second month dating. I told you I wanted six—”

“Little nuggets,” you completed for him, rolling your eyes. “I remember. I thought that was just… I don’t know, sex talk. You were literally inside me.”

Steve smirked and kissed your jaw. “Talking about that… I guess this means we can do it raw now, huh?”

You glared at him. “Babe, we just found out we’re having a kid while we’re almost broke… and you’re thinking about sex.”

His hand fidgeted with your shirt before sneaking in. “You know me, honey.”

“Yeah, I’m pregnant ‘cause you can’t control yourself.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, desiring him just as much.

Steve kissed you hard, hovering over you softly, as if you were made of porcelain. 

He whispered against your lips. “I love you. You’re making my dream come true.”

“Of birthing six kids?” you teased.

He shook his head and pecked your nose. “Of starting a family by your side. Of having the blessing of being the father of your child.”

Your eyes watered again, this time with joyful tears. “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you, baby. I love you too.” You raised your pinky and pouted teasingly, “Forever, remember?”

Steve interlocked your fingers and nodded. “Forever. I’ll love you forever.” He stroke your tummy with his thumb. “Both of you.”

How could you ever think wrong of this man? As if he wouldn’t give you the world if he could.

You kissed him again, letting your bodies find each other like a perfect puzzle.

Even though you both knew there were many challenges coming your way, you let yourselves enjoy the start of your new life for one night. The road would be a difficult one, but for tonight, you would pour your hearts into showing how much love you had for each other.

— — —

SECOND TIME (Dec. 1988)

‘Chaotic’ would be a good way to describe your year. Between the baby and the new apartment, there had been almost no rest for Steve and you. 

Still, neither of you would change a single thing.

After telling your friends and family the news, there had been a mix of emotions. The younger ones were excited for the new addition, but the adults could only think of your small-wage jobs and one-bedroom apartment.

Hopper helped again by giving Steve a receptionist job at the station after their usual secretary retired. It wasn’t the most exhilarating job, but it paid enough to cover rent without double shifts.

You worked until the start of your third trimester, when your boss lent you your maternity leave, and returned when the baby was four months old.

Oh, your baby…

The day your little Emma arrived, your hearts were overflowing with love. Steve had been by your side all through your birth and had set her in your arms. The first time you held her, he had cried at the sight of the love of his life carrying his first child.

Six months later, Emma still had you both wrapped around her little chubby finger. Steve had been the best father ever, always taking care of Emma whenever you were tired, buying her every cute dress he saw, and getting all the toys she pointed at. 

He was obsessed with teaching her new words she never learned. 

“Pretty. Pree-tee,” Steve overmodulated at the baby while he fed her. “Repeat, Em. Pree-tee.”

You entered the kitchen hurriedly, gathering your hair in a ponytail as you checked the floor. “Have you seen my black heels?”

“The pointy ones?” Steve’s eyes were shamelessly giving you a once-over. “Those pants look great on your ass, babe.”

You turned back at him, smirking. “You always say that.”

“And I’m always saying the truth.” He pouted when you passed near him, silently asking for a kiss. 

You kissed his eager lips, then pecked Emma’s hair. “I’ll meet you at the Byers’.”

Steve frowned, the tiny spoon freezing midair. “What? Why? They’re making you work a complete shift on Christmas?”

Emma seemed to feel her dad’s attention drifting away from her and whined. Steve fed her the spoon, mumbling an apology. “Here you go, bug.”

“Yes, and I have to buy some last-minute gifts.”

“For who?”

You sighed at the sight of your heels beneath the couch. Kneeling on the fluffy carpet, you answered, “It’s a surprise.” 

Steve’s mouth gaped at your bending form. “Your ass is the only gift I need.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned to look at him with a surprised smirk. “Steve, what did we talk about? Not in front of Em.”

“She doesn’t understand,” he complained. 

As you put on the heels, Steve took Emma from her baby chair, placing her on his hip, and approached you. “C’mon, bug, say the word. How does mommy look today?”

You smiled up at your daughter, caressing her socked feet expectantly.

Emma hesitated, thinking deeply, then yelled with a wide smile, “Pee-pee!”

Steve’s face fell while you chuckled. He shook Emma gently. “It was ‘pretty’. We’ve been working on it for weeks. It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise for you.”

Trying to stifle your laugh, you said, “I heard you every night, Steve. Give her some time, she’s just six months old.” Emma pursed her lips and rested her head on Steve’s chest. “See? You’ve burdened her enough.”

You gently took her off his arms and kissed her head. She turned cheerful again and giggled, “Mama!”

The only word that stuck enough in her mind to always babble. Steve sighed and whispered, “What about ‘da-da’, Em? You gonna spend all day with daddy.”

Emma grasped her tiny hands on your sweater and whimpered, “Mama… mama.”

Without skipping a day, Emma cried every time you left, so you always tried to distract her enough for you to sneak out quietly.

Steve tried to take her from you, but she tightened her hold on you. “Mama… mmm…”

After waving all her toys around, looking almost like a clown, he convinced Emma to let you go and focus on him. Steve mouthed an “I love you, be careful!” as you waved at him and ran out of the apartment.

Steve felt just as upset as Emma whenever you left, but he was twenty-one years older than his child, so whining for you to stay wasn’t an option.

Tonight’s Christmas dinner would be at the new Byers-Hopper house. After Joyce and the chief of police finally married, they moved to a big cabin with Will and Eleven. They had invited everyone, including, of course, your new family.

He had the day free, so he was in charge of dressing Emma up, taking all the gifts to the car, and picking up Robin.

Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin had all been accepted to their dream colleges. The latter was close to town but still had to take a two-hour-long bus to Hawkins.

Steve wanted Emma’s outfit to be a surprise for you. He put her in a puffy, golden dress that made her look like a star and was trying to get her curly hair in two tiny ponytails when the door was knocked.

He smiled. “I think mommy forgot something.”

Vibrating with excitement, Steve hurried to open it but was faced with Dustin’s bright smile. 

“What—?”

“Move.” Dustin pushed his way inside the apartment. “Where’s my goddaughter?” 

The mentioned one responded with an excited yell from her crib in your bedroom. Dustin followed her voice and gasped, “There’s the most beautiful baby in the world!” 

Emma squealed and stretched her arms to him. Dustin picked her up and bounced her. “Who’s thrilled for her first Christmas?”

Steve melted a bit at the sight but pretended to be annoyed. “What are you doing here, Henderson?”

Dustin frowned at him. “Dude, I got the thing.”

Color drained from his face. Right. It would happen tonight. “Uhm, okay. Where is it?”

Emma whimpered and pulled Dustin’s hair. He grimaced but forced a smile. “She hates not having attention on her, right?” He raised her up and down, making her giggle. “She’s just like her dad!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean perfect and charming?”

“She got that from her mother,” Dustin teased before giving Emma to her dad. “Her car’s not here. Where is she?”

Steve adjusted his daughter on his left arm and walked back to the living room. “Work.”

Dustin stopped walking. “Doesn’t she work at a school?”

“Mhm.”

The boy waited for Steve to understand his silent point: School ended almost a week ago. But Steve seemed too distracted trying to pick up some gifts while carrying Emma.

“Help me take all these to the car. I gotta pick up Robin from the bus stop. You coming?”

Dustin kissed Emma’s head. “I’ll never refuse spending time with my favorite niece.”

“You don’t have another.”

The boy covered the baby’s ear. “What a way to make her feel less special, father of the year.”

Steve rolled his eyes again. “Let’s go. And pass me the—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Dustin pulled the small box from his pocket and shoved it in Steve’s. “I brought the camera too, so you have to give me the signal before you do it, and, bam, I start recording.”

Dustin gathered most of the gifts while Steve opened the door widely for him. 

“Signal? What signal?” your boyfriend asked.

The other kid sighed deeply. “Do I have to tell you everything you have to do? Am I doing your taxes next?”

Emma chuckled, causing Steve to stare at her in offense. “How ‘bout a cough?”

Dustin called for the elevator. “Fine, but discreet, okay?”

Steve fidgeted with the small box in his pocket with his free hand. Tonight had to be perfect. He had to make your first Christmas as a family a memorable one.

“Yeah, yeah. I got this… I got this, right?”

“Jesus Christ…”

— — —

You hated lying to Steve, but it was a need for tonight’s gift.

It started as a suspicion almost four days ago when the smell of eggs made you nauseous. The same exact symptom from the first time. You had done three tests and they all turned positive, but you wanted a doctor’s confirmation.

This time, hearing the ‘Congrats, you’re pregnant’ hadn’t been earth-shattering. You were still anxiously shaking and on the verge of tears, but after having Emma, you knew Steve and you could do anything together. You were a great team.

After getting the results on paper, you went to the mall for a cute box for it. Then you got the idea of getting a box in the shape of a bicycle to confuse Steve and spent two hours looking for it. 

When you didn’t find it, you thought of hiding a pregnancy test on a cake and surprising everyone, but it would be kinda disgusting taking into consideration how the test had to get positive.

You had been wandering around shops, overwhelmed and indecisive, until you noticed the sun had already vanished.

As you drove to the Byers-Hopper’s cabin, you practiced out loud, “‘I’m eating for two!’ Okay, no, that’s too corny. ‘There’s a bun in the—’ Fuck, that’s worse. ‘Em will be an older sister!’ Alright, that’s better…”

The beautifully adorned house came into view along with the various cars parked on the driveway. You had gathered almost a month ago for Thanksgiving, but now Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin were coming back from college.

Hearing them talk about their college lives felt like a pang on the chest. They were living the life you had planned for yourself, the one where you didn’t get pregnant at twenty. You’d never regret having Emma, but it still hurt imagining the kind of life you would’ve had.

Will opened the door. He smiled kindly and gave you a side hug. “Hey, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Am I the last one here?” 

“Y/N!”

Robin’s scream startled you. She ran to embrace you, lightly raising you from the floor. “Twin! You look sexier than ever. Almost like me.”

You smiled at her tease and hugged her back. “Have you gotten taller?”

“Have you gotten shorter?”

Every time you saw each other, you’d pretend you hadn’t seen each other in years, as if Robin didn’t visit you three every weekend.

“Honey.” Steve called behind your best friend. He pulled you into a warm hug the moment you were free and kissed your cheek. “I was worried. What took you so long?”

“I went to get some… groceries,” you lied. He glanced confused at your empty hands. “It was closed.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve smiled again, completely clueless, and kissed you. “I missed you.”

You snorted. “I saw you this morning.”

“Too long ago,” he whispered against your lips. His hands wandered from your hips to your ass, squeezing it gently. “Everyone’s distracted making dinner.”

The multiple voices coming from the living room and kitchen brought you back to reality. You pushed his hands off. “I should say hi to everyone. Especially Joyce and Hop. Did you bring all the gifts?”

Steve nodded and followed you, his hands back to your hips. 

Joyce was running the kitchen like the navy. Will, Hopper, and Jonathan were her helpers for the night. While one mashed potatoes, another one took the turkey out of the oven. 

The older one was looking through the cabinets. “I don’t think we have enough plates, Joyce. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve bought—”

“Look at the bottom one,” Joyce ordered. She was finishing a giant salad when she noticed you two, awkwardly waiting at the kitchen’s door. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re here!”

You hugged her briefly, not wanting to take much of her time. “Thanks for the invite. If you need any help, ask my amazing private chef.” You pointed at your boyfriend, who smiled politely at Joyce.

“Oh, there’s no need. We are almost— Jonathan, what are you doing?! That will get burned, it’s common sense.” She rushed to her son.

Steve kissed your temple before joining the kitchen’s battlefield. “Em’s with the kids.”

You found endearing how he would always refer to the teens as ‘kids,’ even if they were graduating next year.

Mike was holding Emma high in the air, moving her like… an airplane? “It’s Superbaby! Coming to fight evil forces.” He pointed your daughter to Max. “Gonna destroy the ginger witch with her laser rays.”

Max chuckled sarcastically, but the others did laugh and eagerly tried to have their turns holding Emma.

But the moment your baby saw you, she went crazy. “Mama! Mama!” Her legs kicked the air as her arms reached for you.

“No! Hide her,” Dustin whined and covered you from Emma’s sight. “We need her for the Godzilla vs. Superbaby scene. My camera is almost ready.”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears and her face scrunched. At the first sob, the teenagers turned to full panic mode and hurriedly handed her to you.

“It’s okay, sweetie, I’m here.” You sat on the couch and bounced her in your lap. “Why did daddy dress you like a tree ornament?”

Robin sat next to you and stroked Emma’s tiny arm. “I asked Steve the same. Says she’s a star.”

“Oh!” you whispered and forced a smile. “From which planet?”

The teens and Rob were called by Nancy to help set the table, so Emma and you stayed alone next to the Christmas tree. It was insane thinking that next year, you’d have a second baby, probably dressed horribly by Steve too.

Your eyes got tearful, just as Emma’s did some minutes ago. 

“Dinner’s served, baby. Come—” Steve stopped at the sight of your tears, immediately worrying. His voice turned soft as he sat down at your side. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

When his hands soothed your arms with such care and love, a tear rolled down your cheek. You smiled weakly at him. “I’m just… so grateful for you two.”

He visibly relaxed and kissed your temple. “Believe me, we’re grateful for you. Couldn’t have done this without you, honey.”

You pouted and laid your head on his shoulder. “I love you.” Emma tugged your shirt. “I love you too, sweetie.”

Steve kissed her head before pulling you to a soft kiss. “I love you, my girls. This is the best Christmas already.”

You bit his bottom lip playfully. “And you haven’t even seen your gifts.”

He smirked as his fingers discreetly went under your shirt. “Hope one includes you in our bed with nothing but—”

“Guys, c’mon. We’re waiting for you.” Jonathan interrupted the moment.

Steve sighed as you two got up. “I’ll never like him completely.”

The dining table looked like a war zone with more than ten guests ready to devour everything their hands could reach. You sat between Steve and Robin, who joyfully set Emma on her lap.

Joyce was at the head of the table, opposite Hopper. “Alright. Before we start, does someone want to make a toast?”

Everyone looked at each other quietly, waiting for a brave one. You sighed and stood up, raising your champagne glass. “I’ll do it.”

The teens jokingly clapped, receiving scolding glares from the adults. 

“First of all, I want to thank Joyce and Hopper for hosting this. It’s not easy having this many people at your house.”

“Definitely isn’t,” Hopper mumbled.

“And making all this food? You deserve the world,” you continued with a genuine smile. “I hope you enjoy all our gifts, and don’t worry, the kids are washing the dishes.”

“We what?” you heard Lucas mumbling to Will.

“This has been our first year without fighting monsters and supernatural beings. Let’s hope it stays like that forever.” You faintly heard Steve coughing, but you paid it no mind as you smiled at the rest of the table. “To a very normal Christmas!”

They replied with the same word and sipped their champagne. It was time.

“I’m pregnant!”

“Will you marry— what?!” Steve said at the same time.

Your smile disappeared as you turned around and found Steve kneeling behind you, a box with a ring in his hand. You both gasped.

“Are you really?”

“Are you really…? What the hell is going on?”

At least four people had spat out their drinks, while the others stared at you with wide eyes and opened jaws. 

“Oh my God…”

“Did she say—?”

“Again? We should’ve gifted them condoms,” you heard Mike. 

But your entire focus was on your beautiful boyfriend kneeling next to you with a confused face. Your eyes welled up as you nodded. “Yes!”

Steve blinked, suddenly remembering what he was doing, and stood up. “Y/N, are you pregnant?”

“Oh, shit, he didn’t know.”

“Dustin, keep recording.”

You also seemed to have forgotten your own news, too excited about the ring, and frowned. Then you gasped. “Oh, yeah, I am!”

But your smile wavered at Steve’s silence. You looked from his eyes to the ring and back to him. Suddenly, Steve sniffled and pulled you into a tight hug, cradling your head on his chest. “You always have the better gifts.”

Oh, Steve had probably planned his proposal for months… You pulled back and stroked his cheek. “Steve, I’m the happiest woman right now. I love this… t-this ring. Put it on. I said yes.”

“You did? I think I lost my hearing for, like, two minutes.” He took out the ring and nervously slid it where it belonged. “I had a whole speech planned.”

You looked at your hand with delight before placing your arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Joyce clapped and cleared her throat, signalling everyone to do the same. Everyone applauded with a mix of confusion and excitement.

“I wanna hear it… but maybe when we’re alone?” you whispered.

Steve nodded and caressed your hips. “The main message was that I love you and that I want to marry you now... But maybe the wedding will have to wait until this one arrives.” 

His eyes dropped to your flat tummy, where your second nugget would start to grow soon. Your child together. Again. He felt a lump in his throat and quickly closed his eyes so no one could notice the tears.

Robin, though, was right next to you. “Aw, Steve is crying! So cute.”

The girls on the table pouted with affection and clapped again. You hugged your fiancé and hid his face on your chest. “Leave him alone, he’s shy about it.”

“Nothing wrong with loving being a dad,” Hopper said with a sincere smile down his moustache.

“Dada!”

Steve stopped breathing for a second. He pulled back to look at Emma in utter disbelief. “Oh, my— Did you just—?”

“Dada!” the baby repeated cheerfully, waving her arms for you to take her.

Everyone melted as Steve picked her up and scattered kisses on her face. “You’re going to be a big sister, bug!”

You stared at them—your family—with fondness. You would ruin a thousand speeches and proposals to watch them hold each other like this, with unconditional affection.

Later, while everyone was opening their presents, Nancy asked you, “Aren’t you scared of having another one?”

One look at Steve and Emma was enough to reply, “Not at all.”

— — —

THIRD TIME (Dec. 1989)

“Steve, I’m fine. You can go—”

“I’m not leaving your side on New Year’s Eve, honey,” Steve cut you off. He laid next to you, put an arm over your middle, and kissed your shoulder. “I’m on nurse duty tonight.”

You smiled and passed your fingers through his hair. “Would I have to pay you double?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Steve bit your arm playfully. “Double kisses, double hugs—”

“Double fucks?”

Steve smirked and squeezed your hip. “You said it, not me.”

Your husband and you have had many jobs during the past few years, but being parents of two toddlers was definitely the hardest one. 

Your second daughter, Beth, was only four months old when your parents surprised you two with a gifted trip to New York. Your father’s work always gave him a paid week there for him and your mom, but this year they offered to take care of their grandchildren so Steve and you could enjoy some time alone. 

Both of you refused for a long time, not wanting to leave the babies for so long, but your parents convinced you to leave after Christmas, celebrate the New Year there, and travel back to Hawkins on the second of January. 

But the second day in New York, you suddenly got ill, and it seemed you wouldn’t get better this year. You insisted Steve still attend all your planned trips, but he refused each time. Instead, he stayed taking care of you in the hotel. 

Now, New Year’s Eve had arrived, and your nausea turned worse. 

Steve was soothing your tummy while he kissed your arm when you felt a new nauseous wave coming. You pushed him off and ran to throw up in the toilet. 

Your husband sighed as he leaned against the doorframe. “I’m telling you… Pills aren’t effective most times—”

“I’m not pregnant,” you muttered before shakily standing up. Steve rushed to help you wash your mouth. “I would know it.”

“Well, I’d know it too, and I assure you… You’re pregnant.”

A sudden strong urge to push him invaded you... so you did. “Stop it!” you groaned as you shoved his hands away from you. 

Steve took a step back and raised his hands, not looking offended at all. “Alright. Don’t believe me… But how about we bet?”

You slumped face forward to the bed. “A week in New York and you already wanna fall on the betting life?”

He sat next to you. “Isn’t that in Las Vegas?”

You groaned, burying your face on the mattress. “You’re so annoying sometimes.”

Steve smirked and slapped your ass. “You’ve known that since the day you met and still decided to marry me.”

He grabbed your ass and started to wiggle it, just to piss you off more.

You turned around and weakly tried to push him away. “Stop—”

Steve held your hips in place and leaned down to kiss your tummy. “Hello, baby number three.”

“Don’t!” you whined and bit your bottom lip to stop the giggle threatening to leave your mouth. “Steve—”

He tickled you and placed kisses all around your tummy. “I bet you’re a boy this time. A little me.”

You grabbed his hair and pulled him away from you. “Stop manifesting that, or I’m kicking your ass.”

“Is that a threat or a reward?” Steve joked, his fingers drumming against your tummy. “Don’t talk dirty to me in front of the kid, honey, you made that rule yourself.”

You sighed deeply and sat up. “You know what? Let’s go to the hospital in front of the hotel and find out.”

Steve followed your actions with his eyes as you put on a big coat, winter boots, and a knitted beanie.  

“Why not buy a pregnancy test?”

“Because when it comes out negative—”

“If it comes out negative,” Steve quickly corrected with a small teasing smile. 

You glared at him. “When it comes like that, you’ll insist that it’s wrong. So let’s get this over and get a damned blood test and ultrasound.”

Steve gasped excitedly. “Oh, yes! I want a picture for my wallet.”

“Ha ha…” you muttered and harshly picked up your bag. “Let’s go, Mr. Harrington.”

He jumped off the bed and followed you like a giddy puppy. “Ugh, it turns me on when you call me that.”

Steve kept an arm around your waist all the way out of the hotel, tickling you and kissing your temple every couple of minutes. 

New York City was chaotic, but it turned even worse on holidays. You crossed the street to the closest hospital, holding hands and trying to avoid the desperate pedestrians. 

But the place was closed due to the date, and instead of giving up like normal people, Steve and you spent the next three hours walking around New York City in search of any open clinic. 

It took longer than necessary since Steve was stopping at every remotely beautiful place and making you pose for a picture. He was determined to use the camera Jonathan had gifted you two last Christmas. 

And talking about him… 

“Maybe we should call Jon and ask him if he knows a 24/7 hospital,” you suggested, already regretting your dumb idea. 

Steve blinded you with a flash. “Oh, sorry. Call Byers? Hell no, he just landed in Boston. We shouldn’t interrupt his ‘Nancy-time.’”

You sat down at a random bench and whined. “Let’s just buy a stupid pregnancy test and go back to the hotel. I feel like shit.”

He soothed your head, dropping a quick kiss on your hair, and whispered, “And that’s why we need a hospital, pregnancy or not. It isn’t normal how sick you are.”

“Can’t we bother the doctor tomorrow?”

“No, tomorrow everything will be closed,” he mumbled, looking around the street for a miracle. “And starting the year sick is a bad omen.”

You glared at him. “Thanks for the supportive words.”

Steve sighed and helped you up. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll carry you on my back.”

He had to be joking. You groaned and threw your head back. “I want a bed.”

“My back is the second most comfortable place to lie down, confirmed by our girls,” Steve teased, already getting in position. “C’mon, honey. I won’t have my pregnant wife walking around anymore.”

It seemed he wanted to irritate you until you exploded, but you exhaled deeply and followed his order. 

Sadly for you, Steve was right, and in a matter of minutes you were feeling slightly less miserable. Yet it wasn’t because of a miracle cure or the beautiful sky; it was Steve’s constant jokes and sweet words. 

If you were on the verge of death, you were glad your last moments alive were with your husband. 

“Oh my God, that rat looks like Robin when she doesn’t shower for three days,” Steve joked while pointing at a little grey rat eating a rotten pizza. 

You took a picture of it and chuckled weakly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “That was one time, and she had all the rights to do so.”

“Why was that?”

“You don’t remember T.V.N.T.W.?

He sighed, already sensing a stupid answer. “And what was that, honey?”

“The Vickie Nightmarish & Traumatic Week!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean when Vickie had to work at a hospital in India and didn’t call Robin for a week because there wasn’t any fucking signal?”

You smacked his head playfully. “Hey, Robin got really scared.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she thought Vickie left her for another girl,” Steve recalled. 

“Indian women are beautiful; you can’t blame Robin for her jealousy.” You drummed your fingers on your husband’s head and chuckled. “Now I get why the girls love when you carry them like this. It’s easier to annoy you.”

Steve tried to feign disapproval, but a smile inevitably appeared. 

After an hour of walking around the Big Apple, ignoring crazy people and the insane amount of rats, Steve got a man to help them find an open hospital. 

It took five minutes to convince the man that you weren’t homeless, and Steve had to lie that you were Canadian until the man finally gave you directions. 

The sun had already vanished and welcomed the starry night when they arrived.

Except it was not a hospital.

Steve dropped you down carefully and smiled. “Thank goodness! It’s actually open!”

“Honey…” you whispered, staring up at the green neon sign. “Look.”

The excitement disappeared from Steve when he read the very bright words: ‘Animal Palace—24/7 Vet Clinic.’

You stared at each other, your lips pressed in a fine line, until your laughter broke the silence. Steve covered his face as he chuckled.

“Too late to pretend one of us is a dog?” 

The secretary had already seen you and was waving enthusiastically for you two to enter. 

You left the talking to Steve as he explained your current need. You thought the night had turned out hopeless, but the secretary gasped and said, “We make ultrasounds for animals; I’m sure it won’t be as different with your wife.”

Then she sent you to the only pregnancy technician in the vet, Mrs. Steluluskoo.

“It has to be made up,” Steve whispered as you walked to her office.

But you were too focused on admiring the surrealist animal decorations. There were fake hippopotamuses hanging on every corner, while every light had the form of a giraffe.  “What animal do you think is so me?”

Steve smirked tiredly. “A lazy cat.”

“You just needed to add that adjective, didn’t you?”

“Mommy and Daddy?”

Both of you flinched at the voice behind you. Coming out of a lion-shaped door stood a tiny woman with a wide smile and abundant red hair. 

Steve cleared his throat and offered a hand. “You must be Mrs…” He was too sleep deprived to even try. “...you.”

Mrs. Steluluskoo beamed. “Yes, I’m me!” She shook his hand firmly before hugging you. “Congrats!”

You flinched and pulled back, not bothering to hide your discomfort. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh, sure,” she winked over-exaggeratedly and pressed a hand on your stomach. “Mmm, yeah. Definitely a boy.”

Steve gave you a teasing grin, which you responded to with a soft smack on his shoulder. 

Mrs. Steluluskoo motioned you to lie down on a dog’s bed on top of a metal table. “I’m sorry. Our clients are usually… smaller.”

Your husband helped you out of your coat and jeans before you slumped down on the small yet comfortable bed. Steve was wrong; you had probably been a dog in another life. 

The veterinarian hummed a song as she turned on a transvaginal ultrasound. You felt sick imagining that inside an animal’s intimate parts. She seemed to read your mind and chuckled, “Don’t worry, it’s very clean. I’ve never used it!”

"What a relief," you wanted to sarcastically mutter, but thought twice before snapping at the person on the verge of inserting a probe in your vagina.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” Mrs. Steluluskoo singsonged. She gasped. “Oh! Wonderful!”

Steve and you couldn’t see much on the screen but the heartbeat was loudly obvious. Your own hearts stopped for a second at the realization. Your husband kissed your knuckles, your hand, your cheek, and finally your mouth. “Our third…”

Any angry thought against Steve went away from your mind when the room’s light reflected on his tearful eyes. 

“Oh, honey, don’t cry,” you chuckled and held him close. “It’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

Steve sniffled and engulfed you in a hug. “It’s just… I’m so happy. Finally, we’re having our third.”

“Yeah, three,” Mrs. Steluluskoo said casually. “Three little but powerful heartbeats.”

The air left the room for an entire minute as you and Steve stayed still in each other’s arms. 

You blinked and snorted, “Oh, wait. You meant, like, the baby’s, my husband’s, and my heartbeat… right?”

Mrs. Steluluskoo tilted her head. “No? I mean the triplet’s heartbeats. Don’t you see the three little yolk sacs? From my knowledge, I think you may be almost six weeks—”

But her explanation was cut off by Steve passing out, falling to the floor. Your eyes were glued on the wall, ears receiving no sound, as Mrs. Steluluskoo gently took off the device from you and called the nurses.

People entered, took Steve, and threw him to a chair before rushing to your side. A cold hand pressed on your forehead.

“I think she’ll pass out too! Contact the closest hospital!”

“Everything is closed!”

“There must be one!”

“Well, there isn’t. Do you think they’re here for funsies?!”

No sentence made sense in your head. The only sound invading you were heartbeats, turning louder and louder and overwhelmingly louder and…

An air mask was pressed on your face, making you breathe evenly again. Suddenly, you were on a real, human-sized bed now with a nurse checking your vitals and Mrs. Steluluskoo hovering over you.

“Oh, great! She’s awake,” she giggled and squished your cheeks. “Welcome back, mommy.”

“Please don’t call me that again,” you mumbled before sitting up weakly. “Where the hell is my husband?”

The doctor looked around, as if she hadn’t even noticed his vanishment. “Husband? Who…? Oh! The man with big hair.”

The nurse cleaned your wrist with a wipe before inserting an IV. You whined and tried to pull away. “Steve! I want my husband! Where—? STEVE!”

Mrs. Steluluskoo shushed you. “It’s alright, dearie. Husbands tend to leave when they can’t handle the pressure of a triple pregnancy.”

You almost passed out again. After weakly pushing the nurse, you delicately took off the IV and tried to stand up. 

Your knees trembled, and the two women pushed you back to the bed. 

Everything inside you was crumbling too. There was no possibility of your husband abandoning you; he loved you and your daughters in a way you had never seen another father do. If any of you wanted the moon, Steve would move oceans and lands to get it. 

Your man was devoted to his family… right? But your pregnant brain and hormones started to overthink everything. You covered your face with trembling hands as you started to sob. Feeling in the depth of sadness, Steve’s presence would be the only solution.

The nurse connected the IV again and hesitantly patted your back. “Everything will be okay, Mrs… well, now it’s Miss.”

A hard sob shook your entire body. The usual vomit traveled up your throat, making you double onto the closest thing you found: Mrs. Steluluskoo purse. 

The doctor gasped then sighed and let you be. “And there goes my dinner… And yours, probably.”

You grasped the purse hard and kept puking, all while sobbing, whining, and hiccuping. A gun to your head would've hurt less than your current pain. 

What would you tell your daughters? Your friends? Your parents? How would you support five kids?!

Two big hands you knew very well soothed your back before those lips you loved pressed a kiss on your temple.

“I got you, honey. Puke it all.”

You ceased your movements and looked back. Steve smiled softly. “Was that all?”

“Where the fuck were you?!” you snapped. “Why would you leave me like that? What’s wrong with you?”

He took a step back, surprised, and frowned. “What do you mean? The doctor told me to get you some juice and sandwiches so you could feel better.”

Both of your glares switched to Mrs. Steluluskoo, who chuckled. “Oh, right! Yeah, I did that. Oopsie!”

Steve held your arms before you could strangle the woman. “Lie down, baby. You need food in your system.”

Mrs. Steluluskoo noticed your fiery mood and cleared her throat. “We’ll be right outside.”

The nurse followed her out, finally giving you two some space. 

Steve sighed deeply and sat on the edge of the bed. He gave you a big bottle of orange juice and a plastic box with three tuna sandwiches. 

“That was all they had. They were already closing. It’s almost eleven—”

A new wave of sobs from you cut him off. He frowned and jumped to your side. You pulled him into a tight hug. “I thought… I thought y-you had left me f-for good.”

Steve looked at you flabbergasted. “What—? Why would I ever do that?”

You shook your head and pressed him closer to your body. “The doctor said… I just—I was so afraid, Steve.”

He deflated and soothed your back. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have left without telling you. But I woke up and you had also passed out, and—and, shit, Y/N… I got so scared. Mrs. Whatever told me that food would help, and, well, I didn’t think twice.”

Deep down, you knew Steve would never abandon you, but in the heat of the moment, your nerves took the worse option and made you believe it. 

“I can’t believe we’re having triplets,” you whispered, still lying with your head on his chest.

Steve snorted half-heartedly. “Maybe it’s my fault for wishing so badly for an army of children.”

“Yeah, you should buy a lottery ticket tomorrow.”

His chest vibrated from his chuckle. You turned your head and kissed right over his heart. Steve gently grabbed your chin and pulled you up for a soft kiss.

You moved your head to the side before he could reach your lips. “No. I puked.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled, searching for you again.

“No!” you giggled and tried to free yourself from him. “I’m disgusting right now.”

“You could never be disgusting to me, sweetheart,” Steve insisted. “C’mon. Just a peck.”

You gave up and pouted, letting him drop a short kiss on your lips. 

“I love you,” he whispered while stroking your cheek. “I have to confess something…”

You sighed and dramatically said, “What did you do this time?”

Steve helped you lie down at his side. “So… I knew you were pregnant because on Christmas you asked me to pass you the bottle with your birth control pills, and there were ten.”

You gasped, doing the mental math. By that date, only seven pills were supposed to remain, one for each day of the remaining month. 

“Fuck, I must’ve forgotten… Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whined. “I hate when I’m wrong.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve snickered. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew your stubborn ass wouldn’t have believed me.”

You stared at the ceiling while eating a sandwich. “Wait, no. It’s your fault. Because I started taking those pills so we could do it raw.”

“I told you I was okay with using condoms—”

You interrupted him. “We both knew you were lying.”

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it. He had been married to you enough time to know when to shut up and give in. That was the key to every successful marriage: letting your wife win.

“You’re right, honey,” he mumbled. “It’s my fault.”

You nodded, smirking, and kissed his shoulder. “I forgive you ‘cause you’re hot.”

Steve took a quick glance at the closed door before swiftly hovering over you. He whispered, “Want to have sex at Animal Palace, princess?”

You grimaced at his joke and covered his mouth. “Get off.” He licked your hand, causing you to shriek. “Ew!”

Steve leaned down to kiss your neck playfully. “Why not? This is the most romantic place to do it.”

“Nothing will beat the church’s bathroom at your uncle’s funeral.” You sat up, successfully pushing him back to your side.”

“That motherfucker’s ghost was proudly looking up at us from hell,” Steve joked. 

As he gave you a second sandwich, his eyes met an elephant-shaped clock. “Shit. Half an hour till midnight.”

“What?!” you whined. 

There was no way you would spend your New Year's in a veterinary. You pulled off the IV and stood up. 

Steve’s eyes went wide. “What—? No, don’t—”

But you ignored him and put on your pants, shoes, and coat. You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You coming?”

“No, we aren’t going any—” He stopped when you rushed to the door. “Honey, wait!”

You looked around the empty hallway for a sign of the odd women. Steve crashed into you before grabbing your arms firmly. 

“Are you insane?”

You covered his mouth, giggling. “I have a plan.”

Steve gasped as you seized his wrist and dragged him across the hallways. 

The secretary was eating popcorn while watching the Ball Drop on a small television.

You took a fifty from Steve’s wallet and left it on the counter. “Thank you for everything! Bye!”

She smiled, then frowned. “Wait, there’s a procedure before—!”

The automatic doors closed behind you, shutting her up. 

Suddenly feeling powerful and full of life—lifesaver tuna sandwich—you stopped a taxi and dragged Steve inside. 

He was staring at you with a mix of fear and confusion. “Honey—”

“Hi. Take us to wherever that giant ball falls at midnight.”

The taxi driver glared at you through the rearview mirror. “It’ll cost double tonight.”

You opened Steve’s wallet again and smirked. Since you had stayed all your trip in the hotel, you hadn’t spent absolutely any money. 

“Is a hundred dollar bill enough?”

The man’s eyes shone at the sight of it. His entire mood changed to a happy, polite one. “Of course, ma’am. We’ll be there in a second!”

Steve swiftly put on your seatbelts and kept an arm in front of you as the taxi all but flew to Times Square. 

“Slow down! You wanna start the New Year dead?!” he shrieked, but the driver and you chuckled. 

You lowered your window and let the air blow your hair. “This is fun! Relax a bit!”

Steve closed it before a mosquito could crash in your face. 

The driver put on loud Christmas music, and in less than twenty minutes, you were on the verge of Broadway. The sea of people waiting for the Ball Drop was miles and miles long, not letting the taxi in. 

“I think this is it!” the driver exclaimed and extended his hand. 

Steve scoffed. “For a hundred dollars, you should run over them and drop us at the top of—”

“Here you go!” you cut him off by paying the driver. “Have a nice new year!”

The taxi driver smiled at the bill and waved goodbye. “You too, lady!” He remarked his good wish was only for you with a brief glare to Steve. 

You pulled Steve out of the car and forced a smile, pretending the enormous crowd wasn’t stressing you. No, you were determined to have a good end of the year.

Steve kept an arm around your waist as you walked through the crowd. “This is horrible. I think I’ve had nightmares like this.”

You rolled your eyes and kept gently pushing people aside. “It’s not that bad!”

A few meters to your left, some drunk guy punched a homeless man. Steve gripped your waist and walked away faster.

“We won’t reach the Ball Drop on time. People won’t let us through eventually.”

“Yes, they will. Look.” You tapped a man’s shoulder and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, please.”

The man looked you up and down before smirking. “Go ahead!”

Steve refrained from rolling his eyes and let you use the flirty technique until the Ball was in sight. 

You found a mildly deserted space and squeezed Steve’s arms excitedly. “It looks great from here. I’m so amazing.”

A small part in him wanted to complain about your recent seduction use, but seeing you so happy made him forget everything. 

He kissed your forehead and embraced you. “The absolute best. Always.”

Suddenly, a short man tapped Steve’s shoulders. “Hey, you’re famous, right?”

Your husband had his guard up. He tightened his arms around you and muttered, “No?”

The man had glasses and was dressed like a librarian. “Are you sure? You look like a model.”

You snorted and patted Steve’s chest. “Oh, he so does. I always tell him to get into that business.”

The man smiled and took a card from his pocket. “I’m Mark. I work for a men’s models agency. Give us a call if you want to follow your girl’s great advice.” He looked you up and down and tilted his head. “You’re gorgeous too. I could get you a contact.”

Before Steve could yell at Mark to fuck off, you accepted the card and forced a smile. “Thank you, we’ll think about it next year.”

Mark chuckled. “And funny? Oh, they’ll love you. Bye-bye!”

Steve’s angry eyes followed the man as he calmly walked away. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know. New York shit?” you joked. 

“Three minutes till the 80s are over! Get your headbands, glasses, and glowsticks!”

Right next to you, a deambulant man was carrying several 90s-themed souvenirs on his arms and body. 

You stopped him and spent Steve’s last twenty dollars on two glowing ‘H-9-LL-0’ headbands, a bottle of water, and a pack of gum. 

Steve frowned as you forced him to put on the headband. “What’s it even supposed to mean? Why couldn’t it be just ‘Hello 90s’? Why do people complicate—?”

You shoved a gum in his mouth to shut him up, then one in yours. “Here. Let’s have a good breath for our first kiss.”

At the mention of a kiss, Steve chewed the gum eagerly. You pressed a button on your headbands to make them blink colorfully. 

“59, 58, 57…”

You gasped and looked up as the ball started to lower. “Oh my God, Steve… Steve, Steve, Steve!”

His eyes went wide at your urgent tone. He glanced back at you worriedly. “What?!”

Your glance shifted from the ball to your husband. “Uhm… I—we have to say our last 80s words! Think!”

“37, 36, 35…”

Steve bit his lip nervously. “Eh… Goodbye, 1989?”

“Too boring!” you whined and fidgeted with his shirt. “Red looks great on you. Have I told you that before?”

He smirked. “The last thing you’ll do this decade is compliment me?”

“15, 14, 13…”

“Oh God, no!” You bit your thumb and looked at the ball. “What if it falls and crushes everyone!”

“Great way to start the year,” Steve muttered.

“9, 8, 7…”

“I know what I’ll say.” Your husband tenderly placed a rebellious hair strand behind your ear. “I love you, honey.”

Normally, you would’ve laughed at his corny words. But right now, in the beautiful streets of New York, surrounded by excitement and joy, you felt tears fill your eyes. 

“I love you too.” you whispered just before the ball hit the base and everyone shouted with delight.

“Happy New Year!”

A new year with your partner in crime, the love of your life, still by your side, still in your arms. 

Steve grabbed your cheeks and kissed you passionately. You held onto his shoulders to maintain balance and got on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled away, Steve murmured against your lips. “For a decade full of diapers, stress, and love.”

You giggled and nodded. “Especially love.”

— — —

FOURTH TIME (July 1998)

You had been wrong; the decade had been filled with the beautiful blessing of money.

An absurd amount of money thanks to the newest, most famous American model: Steve Harrington. 

It had started as a joke, a way to get back at Dustin and Robin when they laughed at the story of Mark thinking he was a model. Steve called the man and got booked for a short ice cream ad.

Overnight, people got obsessed with him, and every respected brand wanted Steve modeling for them. He got overwhelmed at the beginning, but your constant support helped him continue. 

And the big paychecks definitely motivated him too.

The entire family moved to New York before the triplets were born. It broke your hearts leaving your parents and friends that still lived at Hawkins, but with three newborns on the way, your family needed Steve to continue his well-rewarded job.

Some people tried to scare you by telling you Steve would get fame hungry and abandon you, but it had been the opposite. He loathed parties; you loved attending them. He hated meetings; you helped him network. He cringed at his pictures; you collected all his magazines and framed his best ones. 

Mark and Steve had tried for years to have you model too, but you chose the college degree path. Once the triplets—Ben, Fred, and Steve Jr.—turned five, you enrolled at Harvard to study law. 

Being parents of three newborns, a one-year-old baby, and a two-year-old toddler had been the hardest trauma Steve and you had endured… somehow even harder than defeating Vecna. 

So to avoid more accidental “blessings,” you were on the pill and using condoms. You loved your husband, but he would have to tolerate never feeling you bare again.

The sex hadn’t stopped—thank goodness—and even though you had to schedule it most times, you maintained a rule of being intimate at least twice a week. Maybe it wasn’t as much as before, but considering you had five kids, you were grateful for the pleasurable routine.  

Being a millionaire model and a lawyer allowed you to now go on expensive vacations with your entire family. It had become a tradition for Steve to invite any of your Hawkins friends available and cover all expenses.

This summer trip to the beach would be with Robin and Dustin… which meant you were taking care of seven children now. Although it was probable Emma—ten—, Beth—eight—, and the triplets—seven—were more responsible and mature than twenty-seven-year-old uncle Dustin and thirty-year-old aunt Robin.

“The pancake monster will attack in three, two… one!”

You could hear Robin shouting downstairs, followed by the children’s laughter. Since the seven of them took breakfast at around ten o’clock, Steve and you woke up at six, fucked quietly, and drank your usual coffees while watching the sunrise. 

But everyone was awake now, meaning loud screams, laughter, and rushed steps were filling the big beach house again. 

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror quietly, just analyzing your thirty-year-old naked body with curiosity. Pregnancy had changed you in more ways than just physical, so with time, you stopped being self-conscious about your body. 

You had carried triplets there, for fuck’s sake; you deserved a break. 

Steve entered the bathroom to get his towel and noticed your lost stare. He squeezed your ass. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip and shrugged. “I think one of my boobs is bigger than the others.” You grabbed your breasts to measure them before nodding. “Yeah, this one is a bit heavier.”

Steve smirked. “Let me see.”

You turned around and let him touch you. He pretended to be studying them, grabbing and moving them in circles. “Mmm… I don’t see a problem.” 

But when his thumbs stroked your nipples, you rolled your eyes and stopped him. “Steve, I’m serious—”

“Me too!” he chuckled. “They seem perfect to me, honey.”

He leaned down to kiss around your chest, making your pussy clench around nothing. You tried to stop him as he started to kneel, his kisses traveling down your body.

“Baby, we can’t. We promised the kids we’d go to the beach in, like, fifteen minutes.”

But the way your legs were slightly trembling while soft moans escaped your lips only motivated him to keep going. 

He put one of your legs over his shoulder, and just when he was about to dive where you needed him most, you heard the bedroom door opening.

“Mommy, where are my—?”

In a flash, Steve shut the bathroom door closed. You gasped, covering your mouth, then chuckled.

Ben knocked hard on the locked door. “I saw you closing the door, dad. Open! I need mommy!”

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” You asked while putting on a golden bikini.

“That one’s my favorite,” Steve whispered. 

“I know.”

“Is Mom there?” came Fred’s voice before another knock. “Mommy? Have you seen my blue water goggles?”

“Those are Steve’s.”

“No, his are purple. Mine are the—”

“Then the blue ones are mine. Mommy, Fred is stealing my goggles!”

“You’re lying!” More urgent knocks. “Mommy, Ben is lying about me again!”

You finished dressing up with a Valentino beach dress, causing Steve to groan and slap your ass playfully. 

“Mom—”

You opened the door and held up your hands. “Calm down. Speak one at a time.”

Steve Jr had just arrived carrying a… You shrieked. “Is that a crab?!”

He beamed. “Yeah! I named it Patricia.”

Ben and Fred whined. “I want a crab too!”

Your husband reacted fast by taking the animal from your son and dropping it in the sink. “Shit, shit…”

The three children gasped. “He said the s-word!”

“That’s a dollar to the swear jar,” Fred chuckled. 

You pulled the triplets away from the bathroom. “I told you not to play with dangerous—”

Junior stopped you with a dramatic, long gasp. “Patricia isn’t dangerous!”

Fred looked at you in shock. “How dare you lie, mommy?”

“Dad’s a bad influence,” Ben mumbled. 

You refrained from exploding and rushed to help your husband. But Steve closed the bathroom door behind him and mouthed, “It’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve gulped, his eyes wide like plates, and shook his head. “It d-disappeared; I don’t know.”

You felt a shudder run down your body at the image of a crab hiding on your clothes.  

The triplets approached you with suspicious glares. 

“Where’s Patricia?” your little one whined. 

“I bet Dad ate her with lemon and salt!” Ben joked, worrying Junior.

You raised your hands again, the signal to quiet them down. “Kids, Patricia is taking a shower since she has to go back with her family.”

“What?!”

“But we are her family,” Junior exclaimed.

Steve sighed. “I’ll buy each of you a fish when we go home.”

That seemed to work, as the triplets gasped excitedly and forgot completely about the crab. They started to brainstorm names for their fishes while Steve and you looked for their water goggles around the room. 

Your husband found them on the balcony’s floor. He hadn’t even picked them up before the triplets pushed him aside to grab the goggles themselves.

“Don’t run!” you ordered as they left the room. “Be careful on the stairs!”

Steve sat on the bed while giving you a once-over. Seeing you in an expensive dress he gifted you filled his heart with joy. “You look so beautiful. Come here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Not happening. Put your swimsuit on. We gotta get—”

He cut you off by grabbing your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap. “Are you excited for tonight?”

Oh, right. Steve told you a couple of days ago that he had a surprise for you on the trip’s last day. 

You sighed. “Babe, we have to pack everything tonight or we’ll be rushing it tomorrow and—”

“The maids will do it. I already paid them extra,” he assured, his hands wandering around your bottom and thighs. “We need a night for ourselves. Steve and Y/N, not mom and dad.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “Alright, I get it. Stop the theatrics.”

He held the nape of your neck and pulled you to a deep kiss. You caressed his shirtless, firm chest and opened your mouth to let his tongue in.

Steve gripped your ass and mumbled, “Can’t wait to take this dress off…”

You didn’t hear the firm footsteps approaching the bedroom.

“Mom— Ew!” Emma covered her eyes. “Control your hormones!”

Since Robin had said it a week ago, Emma hadn’t let go of that phrase. She probably didn’t even understand what it meant, but she enjoyed flustering her parents. 

You stood up from Steve’s lap and rearranged your beach dress. “What is it, baby?”

Emma checked between her fingers that you had stopped and dropped her hand. “Can you help me with the sunscreen, mom?”

“I thought Aunt Robin was doing that.”

“Yeah, about that…” Emma licked her bottom lip nervously. “You should see what she and Beth are doing.”

Steve stood up swiftly, already sensing her friend’s plans. “The guns?”

Emma hesitated. “I’m not a snitch, but—”

He rushed out of the room in a flash, skipped two stairs at a time, and ran to the backyard. As he expected, Robin and Beth had filled almost ten water guns and were giving them to the triplets. 

Steve felt a goosebump at their mischievous smile, holding two guns each.

“For fuck’s sake, Robin—” he started. 

But the four kids’ gasps interrupted him. “He said the forbidden word!”

“Shoot him!” Ben yelled. 

The other four, including Robin, pointed their guns at him, and before he could run or protest, Steve got attacked by his own children.

He was still only wearing his pajama boxers, so the cold water froze his bones like in a wild, impetuous rain. “Stop! Ah! Y/N, help!”

Dustin walked by, saw the scene, and chuckled. “I’ll give ten dollars to the first one that shoots him on the d—”

“What is going on here?!”

Everyone lowered their hands immediately at your angry voice. The triplets hid their guns behind them while Beth sought cover behind Robin. 

Emma and you appeared next to Dustin before you assessed the scene. You gasped at the sight of your drenched husband.

“Who is responsible for this?”

They all pointed at each other nervously. Robin stammered, “It… rained. We tried to stop it.”

Steve glared at her and, like a little kid, complained, “I hid the guns on the basement and she took them out and—and filled them with water for the kids and—”

You took a towel from your beach bag and wrapped him with it. “That was not nice, kids. I’m very disappointed in you. Your dad could get sick.”

“Sorry, mom,” they said in unison… including Robin.

Steve wanted to choke her, but your warm hands over the towel were calming enough. 

“No. Say sorry to your dad,” you ordered. 

They all sighed and muttered, “Sorry, dad.”

Ben narrowed his eyes on Emma. “You told them, didn’t you?”

Junior gasped. “Snitch!”

And the war started again. Emma shrieked as the water hit her. “Mom!”

Steve instinctively jumped into the house, away from the chaos, while Dustin kept chuckling at him. “I love your kids; they’re cooler than you.”

You moved to cover Emma, making them lower their guns rapidly, afraid to hit you. But the damage had been done. “Empty your guns and put them back in their bags.”

“But mom—”

“Now.”

They wouldn’t dare defy you, so one by one emptied everything and passed them back to Robin. 

You gave another towel to Emma and whispered, “Go to one of the golf carts. We’ll be there in a moment.”

She nodded and stuck out her tongue to her siblings before exiting the house. 

You glared at the rest of the kids, but seeing their sad faces made you fold. “Okay, here’s the deal. You can take one gun each and only splash each other on the beach.” The second their mischievous smiles came back, you realized your mistake. “Uhm, don’t shoot at anyone’s face… or at me.”

They nodded and picked up their guns and various beach toys. How could you say no to them? They were little devils, but they had good hearts. And having them look so much like Steve didn’t help either. 

The family’s personal chef finished packing luxury lunches for everyone, and Steve ordered Robin, Dustin, Beth, and the triplets to carry them on their laps during the car ride. 

Well, more like golf cart ride. 

The beach village was so honored to have you there every summer that they always lent you a three-row-seat golf cart. 

The triplets sat on the middle row, right behind Steve and you, to avoid any of their mischief going unnoticed, while at the back Dustin, Robin, and Emma sang loudly to a song you didn’t bother to recognize.

Beth was sitting on your lap, chuckling at Dustin’s intentional voice breaks. You, on the passenger seat, had your arms around her to keep her from falling. Ever since she was born, Beh had clearly picked you as her designated parent. She was a complete momma’s girl whose need to sleep next to you for the first five years of her life left Steve with several lonely nights.

And speaking of him, Steve was driving the golf cart carefully slow. You understood that he was being cautious, especially since there weren’t any seatbelts on the cart, but he was turning a five-minute ride into a thirty-minute one.

“Honey, we could go a bit faster.”

He tilted his head, his eyes still on the road. “Mmm… I think we’re fine. Aren’t we, Bets?”

Beth yawned and placed her head on your chest. “I think mommy’s always right, so you should do what she says.”

Steve smiled and gave you a quick look. “That’s true.”

He sped up for exactly two minutes before going back to his slow pace. Robin groaned all the way from the back.

“Since we’re going to arrive tomorrow…” she said, already making the children laugh. “Who wants a storytime?”

The five kids exclaimed eagerly, “Me!”

“Tell us again about the time you all defeated that monster!” Fred begged.

Junior interrupted. “No, tell us of the time dad beat the monsters with a nail bat.”

Emma scoffed. “Man, that was obviously fake.”

Steve gasped, offended, but Dustin talked first. “No, kids, that was absolutely true.”

Your children stared at him in shock as he told them about the time Steve protected him, Lucas, and Max against the Demodogs.

He pretended to be cool about their excited reactions, but you could tell Steve beamed at his kids seeing him as a hero. 

As you finally arrived at the beach, you waited until the seven children were already rushing to the rented bungalow and turned to Steve.

“I’m excited about tonight,” you whispered, hugging from behind. 

Steve stopped picking up the beach bags to lovingly caress your arms. He brought your right hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss beside your ring. “Me too, honey. You’ll be very surprised.”

You stepped aside and tried to help him with the bags, but he quickly dismissed you and took them all in his strong arms. Ugh, how was he hot doing absolutely anything?

Both of you started walking side by side to the bungalow.

“Let me guess. It’ll end up with you fucking me against a surface and grunting in my ear…” You leaned close and with a deep voice imitated him, “‘Fuck, you’re only mine, baby. Your pussy feels great’.”

His cheeks turned pink. Thankfully, the kids were too far away to hear you. 

“I do not talk like that,” Steve said. “I think I use the ‘Who do you belong to?’ more.”

Even though he had said it in a casual tone, your core clenched. His biceps looked amazingly firm while holding those bags…

You were so ready for the night. 

— — —

It had been a pretty fun last beach day for all. 

Everyone swam and played until lunch, then went back to continue the fun at the house’s pool. 

By six o’clock, the kids had already bathed, put on their pajamas, and were getting ready for a movie marathon with Robin and Dustin, the nannies for the night.

Just as Steve said goodnight to the kids and went to start the car, Robin dragged you to her bedroom. She pulled a small pink bag from under her bed. 

“I got it!”

A few days before, you two had talked about getting some lingerie for Steve’s ‘special’ night. You wanted to surprise him too, so Robin escaped one morning with your credit card to buy it. 

You gasped at the sight of the black, strappy, and barely existent black bra and panty lingerie set. 

“He’s gonna come in his pants,” Robin chuckled. 

After hiding it in your purse and thanking your friend, you bid farewell to Dustin and the kids before joining Steve in his car. 

“Ready?” he said eagerly, one hand on the wheel while the other quickly found its place on your left thigh. 

You put on your seatbelt and kissed his cheek. “Absolutely.”

The ride was long, and the destination seemed to be far away from the private beaches. By chatting all the way, you barely noticed when you arrived to—

“A fair?” you gasped.

Steve smirked as he parked the car. “I reserved it for us. No one will bother us tonight.”

You stared at the fair astonished, not even paying attention to Steve jumping out of the car and opening your door. 

“Well, I gotta admit… you really surprised me.”

His chest grew with pride. “Knew it.” He placed an arm around your shoulders. “Where do you wanna go first?”

Even though it was closed to the public, there were some fair workers present to assist. 

Steve and you had a great time playing ring toss, throwing darts at balloons, eating cotton candy, spinning on giant teacups, taking pictures, and, lastly, riding the merry-go-round. 

You walked slowly between the various horses. “I’ve always loved carousels. When I was a kid, I wanted one in my backyard.”

Steve followed you closely, his eyes never leaving you. “I’m sure we can arrange that.”

You stopped at a pony and turned around to him. “No. Here’s the thing… I feel like, deep down, I love them because they are so unique. You don’t ride them every day. More, like, once a year. And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? It’s not recurrent, so you miss it, and—” 

“You keep wanting to ride it more,” Steve completed. “Yeah, I get it… Are you comparing a carousel to our sex life?”

“What—?” You frowned but chuckled. “No! I’m not trying to be deep; I’m just expressing my feelings about carousels.”

He sighed relieved and nodded. “I was getting scared that you’d suggest decreasing the schedule to once a week.”

Steve and you sat on a chariot and lazily spun yourselves. 

“Guess what?” he said. “Mark called me to tell me that some TV show wants me to do a cameo for a few episodes.”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh, that’s so cool. Which one?”

Steve sighed and whispered, “It’s new; the first season aired last month. It’s called ‘Sex and the City.’”

Of course they wanted your sexy model husband in a show with the word SEX in the title. 

You chuckled. “I think I’ve heard of it. So what? Is it porn?”

Steve grimaced. “Oh, no, no. Mark says the show is about women’s dating life, or something like that.”

“So… you’re gonna have sex scenes with some pretty actress?”

He flinched at the idea. “No, no. Mark knows I don’t do that. Just said the character dates the main character for a few episodes, then she goes back to her ex. Nothing more than a few kisses.”

You pretended to be unbothered. “Alright. You should do it if you want to.”

Steve looked at you quietly, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really an actor.”

Relief flooded your body. “Yeah, bad acting could taint your name.”

He nodded. “I know, but the show is a hit, and it could bring me more visibility.”

Your fingers clenched around the chariot’s wheel. “More? You want more fame?”

Steve looked up and into your eyes. He frowned and, after almost a minute of silence, mumbled, “I didn’t say that.”

Great, the night was getting ruined by your unnecessary jealousy. You sighed and forced a smile. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He stopped spinning the chariot too and delicately reached for your hands. “Honey… The only thing I’ve ever wanted was this.”

You tried to joke. “Being rich and famous?”

“No,” Steve said without hesitation. “Spending all my days with the love of my life.” He kissed your hands. “Thank you.”

You felt your heart speeding up. “For what?”

“For staying at my side through it all. For giving me a family.” Steve scooted around the chariot’s seat until he was pressed to you. He stroked your cheek. “You’re everything for me, Y/N. I don’t want anything else ever. You make me the happiest man ever every day. And…” 

Suddenly, he pulled a box from his pocket. You frowned, deeply confused.

“I know we’re married already,” Steve teased after noticing your shocked stare. “But I was thinking… our tenth-year anniversary is a few months away, and, well, I’d like to renew our vows.”

He opened the box to reveal an enormous oval diamond ring.

Tears pricked your eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Steve chuckled softly. “Oh, baby, don’t cry.” He pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple. “I just want you to have the wedding you deserved. We didn’t have almost any money back then and—”

“And it still was perfect,” you cut him off. “I loved our wedding, Steve.”

Back in February 1989, you two lived with Emma in a tiny apartment and sacrificed most of your time for money to pay the bills, so the wedding ceremony had been pretty simple, with just your family and friends in Hopper’s backyard.

It had been small and cheap, but you still considered it one of the best days of your life. 

Steve nodded. “I know, I’m not saying we have to do a big wedding, but maybe a bigger celebration where you don’t have to be stressed about the budget?”

It didn’t have to replace the memory; it could be a sequel, a symbolic way to celebrate your forever-lasting love. 

You bit your bottom lip, deep in thought, then finally giggled. “Okay, fine. Let’s do it again.”

Steve smiled widely and leaned in for a kiss. You held his cheeks as you deepened it immediately. 

He pulled back to whisper in a husky voice. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The fair workers joyfully waved goodbye as you two ran off the fair and to the beach. 

Steve had rented a room at a small, cute hotel, which was only a fifteen-minute walk away. Since you insisted on walking through the beach and leaving the car for the night, he forced you to be carried on his back.

“You’re on heels. They’ll get dirty with the sand!” he insisted until you folded. 

The moonlight was illuminating the pathway. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders while he held your legs to keep you from falling. 

“D’you think we’re in love in every universe?” you wondered. 

“I don’t think it. I know it,” Steve snorted. “We’re soulmates, remember?”

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling. 

“But in every universe?” you teased. “What about in the medieval times? What if I were a princess and you were a knight?”

He hummed. “Then… I’d probably charm my way to your heart until you abandoned the royal title and escaped with me to a beautiful cottage away from the palace.”

You chuckled. “Okay… What if you were a famous singer and I was just a fan?”

Steve shrugged. “I’d probably see you in the audience and yell, ‘Wow, bring that crazily beautiful woman backstage.’”

“A college teacher and a student?”

“I’d make you fail my class so I could see you every day.”

“A god and a mortal woman?”

“I’d give up my immortality since there would be no point living without you.”

Steve was always saying romantic stuff, but it still took you aback how fast he answered, almost as if he had already lived all those lives with you.

“How about a boss and her secretary?”

He smirked, “I’d answer every call, write the best letters, and eat you out under the desk at meetings.”

You kissed his neck, feeling wet at the memory of his beautiful head between your legs.

“What if I were your married neighbor?”

He tensed at the unreal image of another man’s ring on your finger. “I wouldn’t give a fuck about him. I’d make you mine.”

“How about a stepdad and his stepdaughter?” you joked.

Steve grimaced. “Okay, you ruined it.”

You chuckled loudly and kissed his cheek. “I love the life we have in this universe, though.”

“Me too, honey.” Steve squeezed your legs and turned his face to the side, asking for a peck, which you were delighted to give. “Wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The hotel was decently empty, especially since it was almost ten o’clock. The manager recognized Steve and upgraded you to the penthouse suite.

You were holding your purse eagerly as the elevator took off. Steve’s eyes were on you the entire ride; you could feel them. 

He unlocked the hotel suite and whispered, “This is the real surprise.”

The dimmed lights were enough to let you see the path of rose petals across the floor towards a king-sized bed, where a thousand of petals formed a heart. 

You gasped and covered your mouth. “Oh my god… Steve…”

It was all very book-classic romantic, something you’d see in love movies but never expected to actually happen to you. 

Steve closed the door and embraced you from behind. At the left nightstand was a bucket with a wine bottle and two glasses. And on the right one, a sealed package of condoms. 

You snorted as you peeled away from Steve and read the pack. “Fifty?! Wow. It’ll be a long night.”

Steve frowned and walked to your side. “I didn’t buy that.”

There was a card next to it with the hotel’s logo, ‘Have fun!’

“So the manager recognizing you was an act?”

His hands found your hips. “Sort of. But it did happen a couple of days ago.”

You wanted to know more about his secret mission to book the fair and the room without you noticing, but he started bunching up your dress and kissing your neck.

“Happy almost anniversary, honey,” Steve whispered before biting your earlobe.

His hard-on pressed behind you, his hips instinctively rooting against your ass. It always pleased you how he could get hard just by kissing you, like when you were still sixteen making out in the school’s bathrooms. 

“I’ve wanted to do this all day.” Steve moved your panties to the side, smirking at your wetness, and rubbed your clit. “All for me?”

You threw your head back and rested it on his shoulder. “Y-yes.”

“Say my name, baby,” he murmured before pushing two fingers inside you.

“Fuck!” you moaned at the sudden overwhelming feeling. “Ah, Steve! Baby…”

His free hand moved your face towards him to bring you into a hungry kiss. You arched into his touch as his fingers sped up skillfully.

His hold lowered from your cheeks to your neck, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. “W-wait.”

Steve ceased immediately and let you take his fingers off. You pushed him to the bed and tried to recover your breath. He licked his fingers as he looked you up and down eagerly.

“Time for my surprise,” you teased. “Close your eyes.”

He hesitantly obeyed and supported himself on his elbows. You grabbed the lingerie from your purse and rushed to the ensuite bathroom.

“Don’t take too long! Miss you already,” he called. 

But putting on tight, rope-like underwear was more difficult than you remembered. After five minutes of struggling, you were ready and hot to go. 

“Eyes still closed?” you yelled behind the door. 

“Yep.”

Steve was lying on top of the rose petals with his eyes shut and his hands on his chest, fidgeting with his fingers and swaying his feet as he hummed a song. 

You smiled at the tender, innocent sight… even though he had stripped down to only his boxers. 

But you were dressed too sexy to shift the mood, so you posed against the bathroom’s doorframe, trying to be serious. 

“Alright, open them.”

Steve almost passed out. Like a cartoon, his jaw dropped and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as they gave you a once-over.

“I— Uh—” he tried to verbalize. “Wow…”

You couldn’t contain your giggles anymore. Your cheeks turned pink at his darkened, lustful eyes, and his very obvious erection strained in his briefs. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “I— Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

You walked slowly towards him until you straddled him. His deep gulp filled the sexually tense silence. 

Steve’s hands fell to your waist, then your hips, ass, and thighs; he wasn’t sure where to touch. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smirked and pressed down on his hard-on, provoking moans from both of you. Steve couldn’t handle it anymore and spun you till he was on top. His hips grinded against yours desperately. 

“I’m not letting you go. Not tonight, not ever,” he mumbled against your cleavage, dropping kisses and love bites. “I’m chaining you to this bed.”

Your fingers passed through his locks. “What about our lives?”

“I’ll fake our deaths so no one bothers looking for us.”

Steve pressed you onto the bed as his mouth traveled south, reaching your pretty panties. 

“Fuck, I wanna do everything to you, honey,” he grunted.

Just as his fingers carefully hooked on the sides of the thong, your wristwatch buzzed in your purse. You both sighed as you sat up.

“Time for my pills,” you reminded him. 

You crawled to your purse, and Steve didn’t hesitate on playfully spanking your ass. Since the triple pregnancy, you have taken your birth control pills every damn day without exception.

You came back to lie down under Steve with the bottle of pills in your hands, but as you went to open it, he nervously stopped you. 

Momentarily confused, you frowned and looked up into his eyes. An understatement only possible between people in a ten-year relationship traveled through your minds. 

Steve stroked his thumb on your wrist and smiled softly. You bit your lip and nodded. 

After eight years of promising to never do it again, Steve and you felt ready to start the cycle one last time. 

“Are you sure?” he whispered. “I don’t wanna pressure—”

You threw the bottle to the trash can, failing miserably as it fell to the floor. “Oh, well… close.”

Steve chuckled and excitedly grabbed the package of condoms. With a better aim, he threw it across the room to the trash… it didn’t enter. 

“Maybe it's a sign that we shouldn’t do this?” you joked. 

Steve shrugged and kissed your nose. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

You squeezed his shoulders nervously. “Alright. But this is the last time, okay?”

He nodded. “The sixth one, the last one. Got it… I’ll get a vasectomy after it.”

That provoked a chuckle from you. It was a cute sound he loved so much and would do anything to hear it.

Steve kissed you slowly, savoring the moment. 

“Let’s have our sixth baby.”

And between rose petals, over the sound of the creaking bed, and a silent promise in the air to always love each other, Steve and you sealed your family with the last member. 

The last little nugget.

a/n: omg this was long af im sorry, but i love dad!steve fluff. i need to give him a thousand nuggets.

(MORE STEVE)

taglist:

i wanna make a 1k followers special in which ill give YOU the power to choose what ill write. (im probably gonna regret this)

* = smut

golden globes' disaster duo* summary: co-presenting an award with your boyfriend Joe should be easy, but nerves and sex send your night spiraling into disaster.

(Joe Keery x F!Reader)

Summary: Co-presenting an award with your boyfriend Joe should be easy, but nerves and sex send your night spiraling into disaster.

Word count: 9.3k

Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (unprotected p in v, riding, kinda breeding kink, sorta lovemaking), more plot than porn tbh, established relationship, basically FLUFF because joe is deeply in love with you, reader is famous af, jacob elordi being a menace to society.

Everyone was obsessed with Joe and you separately, but when you two started dating? No other couple could compare. You had been universally labeled as ‘Hollywood’s IT Couple.’ 

Even though the absurdly big amount of support had been a surprise, you tried to keep your privacy as much as possible. Supermarket runs were over, TikToks had to be double-checked before posting, and gossip pages were constantly trying to stir up drama. But only Joe and you knew how genuinely incredible your relationship was, and you refused to let fans or media break you apart. 

So you didn’t hesitate in accepting the Golden Globes offer to present an award together. You were already nominated for Best Actress in a Television Series, and Joe would obviously be your plus one. People would probably accuse you two of milking your relationship by going to all the red carpets and events together, but after almost a year of dating, you didn’t really care about anyone’s opinion anymore. 

So what if you wanted to post a picture of shirtless Joe making you breakfast right before promoting his new album? You knew people were going to run to your Instagram stories, so you might as well get some new fans for The Crux. 

'They are so PR!' was the funniest comment you received. If only they knew how devoted you were to each other.

Your manager was ecstatic about the increasing popularity of the Stranger Things season 5 finale and 'End of Beginning.' She wanted you to date someone as famous as you, and even though Joe had a hundred million fewer followers than you, he was unproblematic, well-liked by the media, and growing in popularity.

You had attended the Golden Globes for the last five years, even winning two awards for Best Actress for your main role in your famous HBO tv show, Crashing Waves. Everyone loves to win, but you were feeling a bit shy of possibly winning a third time for the same show. You didn’t want your peers to resent you or think that the show’s producers had a contract with the academy. 

Joe thought you were delusional. “Nobody hates you for it, babe. That’s, like, everybody’s favorite show. We all want you to win because you fucking deserve it.”

Maybe he was right, but deep down you hoped somebody else would take the award home. 

After a year of constant communication, your managers had become best friends—although Joe and you were sure they were dating—and had chosen the perfect matching outfits for the event. 

Joe looked incredibly handsome with a white suit, black pants, and his new blond hair, while you represented the ‘epitome of sexiness’ (Joe’s words) with your sheer black dress.

“How is this matching?” you asked your managers. “We’re wearing opposite colors.”

“Exactly!” Jane exclaimed. “Everyone loves the ‘opposites-attract’ narrative you two have going on.”

Laura, your manager, nodded. “While he looks like an angel, you look like a hot, tempting devil.” She slapped your ass playfully, making Joe glare at her. “No one would be able to look away from you, dear.”

They weren’t wrong; the dark aesthetic of your makeup and dress made you seem as if you would slap anyone who took the award from you.

“You look beautiful,” Joe mumbled on the limousine’s backseat, kissing your hand. “Like you’re gonna spank me and tell me to shut up.”

You smirked. “I don’t have to look like a Disney villain to do that.”

Joe snorted. “You don’t look like a villain at all. More like… a hot vampire.” He scooted closer and kissed your neck. “I need you, baby.”

It was barely seven o’clock, and with the entire event and after party, you’d probably be back at the hotel around three a.m.

You gently pushed him off. “Behave. I can’t have hickeys now.”

“Why not?” he whined and playfully bit your shoulder, making sure to not leave a mark. “That’ll keep the men away.”

“Your presence will be enough for that, honey.”

Joe jokingly gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “What do you mean? Are you calling me possessive?”

Your boyfriend was the least toxic man in the world. Many would even describe him as the sweetest person in any room. But whenever a man would get too close, smile too widely, or eye you a bit too much… 

You sighed. “That would be an understatement.”

The red carpet was pretty chaotic, as usual, with camera flashes blinding you, interviewers begging for your attention, and fans screaming for selfies. You used to hate that part, but doing it with Joe reduced all the stress. He kept a supportive hand on your lower back all the time and constantly whispered compliments in your ear. You two had reached enough peace and shamelessness that when fans chanted ‘kiss, kiss, kiss,’ Joe pleased them with a soft, lingering peck on your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, but everyone read his lips and screamed like crazy. 

You just blushed and chuckled as your managers took you inside. 

“Oh, my children,” Jane whined with a happy smile while watching the pics she had taken of you on her phone. “If you ever break up, I’ll lock you in a cabin on a remote island until you solve things.”

Joe and you froze, looking at his manager with wide eyes, but an event assistant arrived to escort you to your seats. 

Most people were already in their seats, chatting with their colleagues, so there were only two chairs available on your table. Well, of course you were awkwardly sort of late…

Everyone looked up when you arrived. 

Joe and you smiled politely at your show’s director, producers, and—

“Oh my god, Jacob Elordi,” you shrieked at your celebrity crush sitting right there, a few meters from you, next to the Frankenstein cast. 

They all laughed, bringing you back to reality. You blushed deeply and looked embarrassed at Jacob. “I’m just— Wow. Hey, hi.”

The handsome man’s cheeks were a light shade of pink too. He shook your hand. “Nice to finally meet such a superstar.”

HE KNEW YOU?!

Joe’s squeeze of your hip unfroze you. He knew of your fangirl crush on Jacob Elordi, but having him in person, in front of you, looking a bit flushed too… It wasn’t cute or funny anymore.

You cleared your throat and sat down nervously, looking everywhere but at Jacob. For years, you had seen him from afar in every event, too shy to ask him for a picture, and now he was next to you. 

“What the hell!” you mouthed to your boyfriend, discreetly pointing at Jacob. “He’s real?”

Before Joe could reply, Jacob spoke, sending a shudder down your spine. “I’m a big fan of Crashing Waves.”

Oh, you were in a dream. Joe nudged your knee, quietly reminding you to reply. 

You looked at Jacob and tried to smile. “Yeah? Y-you’ve seen it?”

Jacob scoffed. “Of course. It’s my favorite. And you? Wow. Amazing performance every damn minute.”

You grasped Joe’s hand beneath the table. It wasn’t the cold air conditioner that was making you tremble. 

“Hey, Y/N,” your director called across the table. “You look like a tomato.”

All eyes turned to you before they snickered softly. You covered your face, absolutely embarrassed. 

Joe forced a chuckle and soothed your back. “She gets like that with compliments.”

“And how are you gonna receive that award, then?” teased Guillermo del Toro.

Guillermo del Fucking Toro was talking to you. You quickly looked up and hurriedly said, “Mr. del Toro, oh God, pleasure to meet you. Big, big fan of Pinocchio.”

He chuckled and shook your hand. “Most people say ‘Shape of Water,’ but it’s nice hearing something different.”

“We loved Frankenstein,” Joe added, also staring at the man with awe. “I—”

Jacob cut him off. “We were talking about you, actually.” 

Your jaw dropped. “M-me?”

He nodded and smiled charmingly. “I was telling Guillermo that you should audition for his next movie.”

You almost stood up from the surprise. With a stoic face, you said, “It’d be the honor of my life, Mr. del Toro.”

The table guests laughed, but Joe knew you were serious. The director waved his hand. “You can just call me Guillermo, dear. Give me your number.”

As you exchanged numbers with the widely awarded man, Joe noticed Jacob’s eyes shamelessly raking all over you, lingering on your cleavage. 

Was he fucking serious right now?

Joe put an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, trying to discreetly remind Elordi that you were his girlfriend. “Are you still nervous about the award? Because I think I just saw Ayo Edebiri gushing about you with her friends.”

You looked around for your fellow nominee, almost breaking your neck.

But it seemed Joe was invisible to Jacob as he grabbed your hand over the table and talked before you could. “Please, just between us, tell me the end of Crashing Waves.”

Your eyes widened. Jacob Elordi was touching you. Your inner fifteen-year-old, who hated The Kissing Booth saga but watched it a million times because of your favorite actor, would be crashing out right now.

Your tv show’s main producer, Gary, shook his head. “Don’t do it, Y/N. He already tried with me.”

You giggled and… didn’t move your hand away, Joe noticed. 

“My contract forbids me to. Sorry,” you said. “Not even my boyfriend knows it.”

Gary snorted. “I don’t believe that one bit.”

You blushed and looked conspiratorially at Joe. “I probably would’ve told him, but he doesn’t wanna be spoiled.”

Joe nodded and took advantage of the table’s attention. “She’s always on the verge of telling me the ending in bed, in the shower, in the car, everywhere!”

Hopefully, the discreet sexual innuendo sent a clear message. 

Jacob looked at him for the first time and forced a smile. “Djo, right? ‘Endings of Beginnings’ is a great song.”

Oh, Joe wanted to jump over you and choke the tall man. Every fucking person in the world knew his song. It had been number one on spotify for over two consecutive weeks.  But a discreet squeeze on his thigh brought him back to the present. 

You had noticed Jacob’s jab and didn’t like it one bit. The excitement about meeting your celebrity crush was gone. Your jaw tightened and your smile turned pursed. 

Next to Jacob, Mia Goth chuckled. “I told you it’s ‘End of Beginning’! I played it all the time at my trailer.” She waved excitedly at you two. “While y’all were chatting, I was looking for this.”

She passed you her phone with a wide smile. Joe and you gasped at the screenshot of her Spotify Wrapped having both of you as her top two artists.

“I definitely did not beg the Golden Globes producers to put you two at our table,” she teased with a wink. “Can we take a picture at the commercial break?”

Joe and you nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

Even after years of making music and acting, meeting fans always filled your hearts, especially if they were your Hollywood colleagues. 

“She’s working on her new album,” Joe pointed at you, making Mia gasp. 

You chuckled and shook your head. “Not really. I’ve written, like, fifty songs but nothing concrete.”

Mia couldn’t care less about Jacob as she scooted her chair closer and grasped your hand over the table. “Is it a love album? I mean, your depressive ones are my faves, but I’m sure you’ll do great romantic songs.”

“They are,” Joe quickly said, loud enough for a certain giant man to listen. 

You chuckled and squeezed Mia’s hand. “How can I not write love songs when I have such a muse?”

It was Joe’s turn to blush as everyone—except Jacob—‘aww’ed. But he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest; he was filled with joy. For a long time, he had wished for someone to love him as hard as he did, with the silly love songs and irrational, sporadic love acts. 

And he finally found you, a poet wanting to be the muse of another poet. Your love languages matched and there wasn’t a paper in your apartment without a love poem written on it. 

He kissed your cheek and whispered, “I love you.”

“A picture!” 

A flash blinded you two. An event photographer had approached the table and was now asking the Frankenstein cast to get together for a general picture.

Joe and you scooted your chairs back to avoid appearing on the photo, finally getting a peaceful second for yourselves.

But an assistant suddenly appeared behind you with a clipboard and a pen. “Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N, you’re the sixth presenters. I’ll come look for you in… twenty minutes. Be ready.” Then rushed to the next table.

You paled, randomly forgetting which award you were presenting for. But Joe smirked and said, “I loved that he called me ‘Mr. Y/L/N.’ I can get used to it, to be honest.”

So focused on your work, you hadn’t even noticed the assistant’s slip. You beamed and pinched his cheek. “But I want to be Mrs. Keery so bad, honey. I love your last name.”

“Okay, then you be Mrs. Keery and I’ll be Mr. Y/L/N,” he teased, causing you to chuckle.

“That defeats the whole purpose!”

Joe gasped, startling you, as his eyes found his table’s name card. He picked it up and showed it to you. “I’m ‘Joe Keery-Y/L/N,’ and you’ll address me like that from now on.”

Your jaw dropped too. What were the Golden Globes’ assistants playing at? Yours didn’t include his last name, so it had definitely been on purpose.

“This is coming home with me.” Joe kept looking at it with awe. “Take a pic of me holding it, please.”

Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling at his cute reaction. In another universe, your ex-boyfriend would’ve been pissed by it. You took the photos with your phone, already wanting them as your new wallpaper.

But behind Joe, in the background of the pic… You gasped and almost dropped the phone. Joe turned around confused. “What?”

“Ariana Grande looks wonderful!” you screamed in a whisper.

The singer/actress was on a faraway table, calmly chatting with Selena Gomez. Joe raised his eyebrows. “She’s brunette. Wasn’t she blonde, like, yesterday?”

You sighed and patted his back. “Just because we rewatched Wicked For Good yesterday doesn’t mean it was filmed yesterday, baby.” He rolled his eyes, but you weren’t done. “You’re the newest blondie in town. No one will take your crown.”

He looked deadpan at you but couldn’t help smiling at your joke. “Be thankful you’re cute and I love you.”

You sent him a flying kiss and looked back at your phone. “She’s nominated for a Wicked song.”

Joe leaned closer to see the list too. “Uhh, the one I like? She’ll sing it?”

Oh, you were so in love with your chronically offline boyfriend. “No, babe. Popular is from the first movie.” You scrolled down and sighed. “Forget it. Golden will definitely win.”

He frowned and naively asked, “The Harry Styles song you like?”

You stared at him quietly for half a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, his 2019 hit is so nominated.”

Joe rolled his eyes at your teasing and leaned back on his chair. “I’ll never ask you anything again ever.”

“You’re not gonna speak to me anymore?” you smirked. “Give me this, then.”

When you reached for his name card, Joe quickly shielded it from you, keeping it close to his chest. “No, no. Don’t steal the highlight of my year.”

 “It’s January 12th.”

“Enough days to know that I want to marry you this year,” he joked.

But your heart stopped. A man can’t just… joke about something like that! You cleared your throat and tried to act nonchalant. “I’m busy this year. Too many projects. Try in 2027.”

Joe’s arms encircled your hips to pull you closer. He kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear, “I’ll kidnap you, then. Fuck the movie industry.”

“It’ll fall apart without me,” you shrugged, pretending to be inspecting your nails.

“Oh, so true. They’ll lose their best actress,” he mumbled between kisses. And this time, you knew he wasn’t joking, which just flustered you more.

“Hey, loverbirds!” Gary, your show’s producer, threw a balled-up napkin your way. “Shut up. Shit’s starting.”

Blushing, you two pulled apart and pretended to pay attention to the host’s speech. Yet as the woman talked and joked, Joe’s hand suddenly found its way under your dress’s crease and started caressing up your thigh. You discreetly side-glanced at him. 

“Don’t…” you muttered as his thumb reached the edge of your underwear. 

But he didn’t move his hand away and you didn’t want him to stop, so you clapped and smiled while presenters announced winners and they gave their speeches.

By the third award, you discreetly leaned closer to Joe and muttered with a hand covering your mouth “What the hell are you—?”

His fingers grazed your clothed clit, making you flinch. You covered it with a cough while he just smiled calmly at the stage, paying all the attention in the world. 

Casually, you placed an arm on his chair and ghosted your nails across his back. It seemed like a normal, loving action, but Joe knew better. His smile wavered as he tried to push your hand away without being too obvious. 

“Dont play…,” he mouthed. 

You smiled innocently and looked back at the stage. He wanted to play dirty? Well so could you. 

But the challenging vibe left you when he pressed your clit hard. An inevitable gasp escaped your lips, catching your table’s attention.

You forced a smile and lied, “Sorry. I just love that movie.”

Hamnet’s trailer was playing on the screens… It hadn’t even hit theaters in America. But they believed you and returned their direction to the show. 

Joe quickly whispered in your ear. “You’re so wet already.” 

You pushed him off instinctively, then faked a smile and squeezed his shoulder, just in case a camera was on you.

Joe smirked and tried to move your panties to the side. Alright, enough. You scooted closer to the table,  grabbed his wrist, and mumbled, “I’ll murder you if—”

“Excuse me.”

You both gasped at the sudden squeaky voice, jumping away from each other as if electrified. 

Standing awkwardly behind you, the assistant raised her hands and whispered, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you, guys. I need to take you backstage.”

Joe discreetly wiped his fingers on the chair and nodded. You forced a smile and stood up, hoping there wasn’t a wet spot in your dress. 

“What is wrong with you?!” you whispered to Joe as the woman guided the way. 

He put an arm around your waist and shrugged. “I… honestly don’t know. You look so hot and fucking Elordi was hitting on you—”

“He wasn’t.”

But not even you could deny it. You smirked as your cheeks turned pink. “He so was, right?”

Joe rolled his eyes but smiled at your cuteness. “Who wouldn’t? You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

The second the backstage doors closed behind you, your hands found the nape of his neck as you pulled him down to a kiss. He grabbed your hips to press you closer and opened his mouth to deepen it. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t mess up the makeup,” your manager appeared to ruin the moment. 

Behind her, various assistants and crew were rushing around, making sure the show was running perfectly. Laura pulled out a small mirror and your lipstick. “Re-apply. Joe, don’t forget your glasses. Follow the woman; you have to be on stage in three minutes.”

Joe stared with hunger as you applied the expensive lipstick. Pretending not to notice him, you sent a kiss to the mirror and pouted. He distracted himself by focusing on the assistant leading them.

“Remember: you can drift from the teleprompter words, but not completely, okay?” she said. 

You nodded and gave her your lipstick and mirror. “Can you please give this to that woman, the one that looks constipated?”

A few feet behind you, Laura mouthed, “I can hear you!”

The assistant left you two on the entrance spot behind the curtain and next to the stage. From there, you could see the Heated Rivalry actors chatting excitedly with Michael B. Jordan. 

“There are only, like, six songs nominated. We could’ve listened to them,” Joe sighed. 

You shrugged. “I did.”

“What?!” he gasped. “When?”

“This morning while you were showering.”

Joe feigned sadness as he shook his head. “You should’ve waited for me. Now I can’t judge the Oscar dudes that never watch all the nominated movies.”

You rolled your eyes. “Joe, we won’t choose the winning song. It’s completely different.”

Your boyfriend put an arm around your waist to pull you close and whispered, “I was joking. Laugh or I’m breaking up with you.”

You pressed your lips in a line, refusing to give in… but he started tickling you. “Stop! Joe—”

“Shh!” The assistant was back, looking a bit angrier, and gave Joe an envelope. “We’re coming back from commercials in thirty seconds. The camera is already on you. Good luck!”

You both stayed quiet until she had walked out of listening range, then looked at each other nervously.

“I’m shaking,” Joe confessed, showing you his trembling hands. 

You whined, “Joe, you’re supposed to calm me!”

He put on his glasses and sighed. “We got this…”

“I love your sluttly little glasses,” you whispered in a shaky voice. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled with his eyes glued to the camera. “We should’ve taken a shot before this.”

“We’re fine…” You grabbed his free hand. “Let’s enter like this instead of the elbow-holding thingy. We look like the Hunger Games tributes when they—”

“Coming to the stage,” a thundering voice came from the speakers. “you know him from Stranger Things and she’s the two-time Golden Globe winner… it’s Joe Keery and Y/N Y/L/N.”

That was your cue, of course. Joe and you walked hand in hand to the stage and towards the microphone. Everyone applauded as the chorus from End of Beginning played on the speakers. You could already imagine millions of fans shrieking excitedly at their screens.

As you mentally reminded yourself to not trip over your feet, your eyes found the teleprompter. Joe and you had already practiced two days ago in that same spot, something along “Music is an art that—”

…That wasn’t on the teleprompter. What? Joe and you stopped right behind the microphone, his eyes on you since your line was the first. Hadn’t he realized the changes?!

Oh, shit. The words were moving fast. You smiled and started, “Uhm… Showtunes, k-pop, blues, pop, rock, americana, this year’s nominees for Best Original Song are truly all over the place.”

Even though you sounded out of breath and rushed, Joe talked smoothly, “Seriously. If you show up at a party and they play all six of our nominees in a row, you'd be psyched because they are all incredible…” 

You discreetly side-eyed him. Joe hadn’t even listened to them. Well, maybe he vaguely remembered the Wicked ones… although you had heard a light snore coming from him during The Girl in the Bubble.

“But you'd also have a few questions,” Joe’s line was the cue to yours. 

You quickly looked back at the teleprompter just as your line went away. “Eh… Yeah, a million,” you improvised. “Like, damn, who wrote that masterpiece?”

Joe blinked, his plastered smile wavering. Your improv wasn’t really a match with the original “What are you on?” line. 

He forced a chuckle and quickly saved it. “Yeah, or what are you on?”

“How much—” you started, then realized it was his line. 

“...are you on?” Joe continued, trying to make it look like it had been on purpose. Oh, the cute couple are completing each other's lines! 

“And can I please have some?” you finally read correctly.

Joe smiled proudly at you and said the last line, “All great questions. Now here is one more: Who is taking home the Golden Globe tonight?”

The camera’s red light disappeared as the show started displaying the nominees section. Your smiles disappeared instantly. 

You grasped your boyfriend’s arm and whispered, “They changed that or am I schizophrenic?!”

“Both.” Joe tried to sound reassuring. “I mean, yeah I think they did. And it was going so fast. It wasn’t your fault, baby.”

“I never said it was…”

A three-second countdown appeared in the teleprompter. Joe squeezed your hand warningly and both of your charming, fake smiles came back. 

“And the Golden Globe goes to…” you exclaimed. 

Joe tried to open the envelope, but his fingers had turned sweaty from the nervousness, and it fell to the floor. You gasped dramatically at the worst case scenario happening.

Just as you leaned down to help, Joe stood up, crashing the back of his head into your collarbone. 

“Ouch!”

“Sorry!”

You took a step back and collided with the microphone. “Ah!” you screamed as you quickly reached for it. 

Joe winced, but managed to help you keep the mic stand straight. “Shit. I mean, oh—” He covered his mouth when one of the only curse word he was told not to say slipped out. 

You leaned into the mic and yelled, “And the Oscar goes to…!”

“Golden Globe,” Joe corrected before squinting his eyes to read the envelope, “Uhm… Golden, The Hunters—”

“Kpop Demon Hunters,” you tried to correct, but the loud music and applause overshadowed your voices. 

Joe gently grabbed your elbow and dragged you to the side of the stage. An assistant hesitantly looked at Joe before deciding to give you the award. 

“They’re never calling us for this again,” Joe whined, rubbing the nape of his neck stressfully. 

Before you could reply, the winner climbed up the stairs. You smiled widely and gave her the Golden Globe. 

“Congrats!” you both exclaimed. 

The woman briefly thanked you before walking to the microphone. On cue, you two rushed to the backstage. 

“That was a mess. I’m not entering twitter for a week,” you whined. 

Joe soothed your back. “Okay, people laughed… maybe with us and not at us?”

“Hey! Stop!”

You jumped at the desperate whisper behind you. The same assistant that had led you to the stage was running towards you.

“You have to present a second award! The best score!”

“Ohh!” Joe and you gasped as realization dawned in your faces. 

You almost slapped your forehead at the collective loss of memory happening between both of you. Maybe spending too much time together was making your brain cells mix into just a big, stupid one. 

“Here you go.” The woman gave Joe the result envelope. 

He grimaced and shoved it into your hands. “Not doing that again.”

You stared at it as if it were a boiled potato. “But why me?!”

“Hurry up!” the woman yelled in a whisper. “Get on stage now!”

The previous winner was ending her speech in tears while you two tried to discreetly stand behind her. Applause aroused as the singer stepped away with her award, your sign to present the second nomination.  

“Congratulations to Golden, Kpop Demon Hunters,” you said with a smile.

“Alright, everybody, now the award for Best Original Score Motion Picture,” Joe followed. “And the nominees are…”

You both released a breath of relief as the show switched to list the different movies and musicians. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Joe whispered. 

Biting your lip, you carefully tried to open the envelope. You suddenly froze and said, “Oh my God… What if I say it wrong?”

Joe frowned, taking a quick look at the screen to make sure they weren’t on air. “What? How?”

“I don’t know! Look at the La La Land/Moonlight scandal and—”

The red dot reappeared on the camera. You two smiled again and Joe said, “And the Golden Globe goes to…”

You finally opened the envelope and forgot all professionalism as you gasped excitedly, “Ludwig Goransson from Sinners! Yeah!”

Joe applauded along with the crowd. He did remember that movie… “We went to that premiere, right?”

“Yeah, the one where my sister threw up after three margaritas.” 

You received the award from an assistant and waited eagerly to give it to the artist. 

The winner shook Joe’s hand before accepting the award and giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Congrats! I love the Oppenheimer score,” you hurriedly told him.

“Oh, thanks!” He chuckled and walked to the mic. 

Joe found your hand and intertwined your fingers. He squeezed it before whispering in your ear. “I think we did pretty good.”

But your manager didn’t think the same. 

As the show finally went to a commercial break, Laura met you backstage with an exasperated face. 

“They cut the Best Score one from the main broadcast,” she said.

You gasped. “What?! But we ate on that one!”

“Well, they only played the horrible one,” Laura grunted. “How could you forget to read the fucking teleprompter, Y/N? It’s there for a reason!”

While your manager and you bickered about the recent mess, all sound from the room vanished for Joe as he stared at you lovingly. He couldn’t get over how perfect that dress fitted you. It hugged you in all the right ways… especially your ass.

His pants were getting tighter. He mentally thanked his manager for choosing black pants that could make his hard-on barely noticeable. 

Joe’s arms engulfed your waist as he pressed behind you. To anyone, it looked as if he was giving you a casual romantic hug, but you understood the message. Or, well, felt it. 

You stopped fighting with Laura at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend’s big hard cock. Your cheeks turned red and you quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Laura sighed deeply as she typed on her phone. “Whatever. People think you’re funny and cute. That’s all I need. See you later.”

“Bye!” Joe exclaimed in a teasing tone only for you. 

You patted his arms and muttered, “Didn’t realize the Sinners score could be so arousing for you?”

He pressed closer and whispered. “No one will notice if we disappear.”

“Uhm, literally everyone will,” you fought back as you tried to push him off. “Babe, it’s too risky. There’s always eyes on us.”

On you, Joe wanted to say. No one cares that much about him, maybe the Stranger Things fans, but he doubted most of the awarded, famous artists in that room respected his show. 

You on the other hand? Joe was aware of how heads turned whenever you passed, how most artists were nervous of talking to you and wouldn’t even try most of the time. 

If they only knew how approachable and down-to-earth you were. If they could see you fangirling over romance books at one in the morning in nothing but an oversize shirt of his and a skincare mask. 

Although… in all honesty, Joe was glad he was the only one with the privilege to know you like the back of his hand. To know the real you, not Y/N Y/L/N the most famous young actress and singer of this century. 

Joe held you tighter and kissed your cheek. “Baby… please. Look at what you’re doing to me.”

You almost moaned when he rubbed his hardness against your ass. 

“But we’ll only have, like, five minutes to do anything.”

Joe’s whisper in your ear sent shivers down your spine. “You know I can make you come in less time, honey.”

Fuck… Lust was clouding your mind. Maybe no one would notice the empty spots on your table. 

“Fine. Go to the second floor men’s bathroom and wait for me until the next commercial break.”

He pulled away before tenderly kissing your lips. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you mumbled and watched him rush to the closest elevator. “Damn…” you said to yourself, entertained by his eagerness.

Joe was so pathetic for you. 

— — —

It had been ten minutes with no news of you. Joe was walking around the small space anxiously with his jeans and boxers bunched down to his knees, his hand teasing his cock with short strokes. 

“Where the fuck are you?” he muttered to the quiet air. 

Meanwhile, in the grand salon, the winner finished his speech and the show took a commercial break. A five-minute countdown started on the screens. 

You cursed internally as you ran out of the room before anyone could try speaking to you. 

On all the past breaks, people had bombarded you, asking about your future projects, about your relationship, about Crashing Waves… These events were for networking, but you were sort of done with the small talk and forced chuckles. 

You lowkey needed dick. 

Fine, you were craving Joe, but you had tried being more discreet and patient. 

Waiters and assistants were running all around the venue, taking drinks, aiding people, and making sure the show was going perfectly. They were too distracted to notice you slipping behind the bar to the elevator… except for the two young bartenders who frowned at your obvious attempt at discretion.

They wouldn’t say anything, so you paid them no mind and pressed the button marking ‘2.’ The doors closed and displayed your reflection. You sighed nervously and brushed your hair with your fingers. Why were you even doing that? It was going to get messy after your ‘activities’ with Joe.

The hallways on the second floor were quietly empty, as you had expected. Why would people go anywhere but the bar during the breaks? You took off your heels and ran to the men’s bathroom. 

Your heart was thumping from the adrenaline, your pussy getting wet from the danger of it all. The last stall’s door was just closing. You smirked and put the heels on; you cleared your throat and made sure your steps sounded as you approached it.

“So naughty, so desperate, so pathetic,” you filled the silence. “You just can’t keep it in your pants, huh? Maybe a blowjob would make you behave.”

You pushed the door hard, but your smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a horrified gasp.

Chris Rock had his hands frozen on his unbuckled belt. He looked scared until he recognized you. He raised his hands and smirked. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happily married, dear.”

You took a step back and looked away, even if he was dressed. Your face was burning as you stumbled over your words. “Oh my— I’m so, so sorry. My boyfriend… Shit, I… This is—”

“Hey, it’s fine. I supposed you were looking for somebody else,” Chris chuckled. “I’m glad you met me instead, to be honest. I’m a big fan of your work!”

The clock was ticking as you wondered where your boyfriend could’ve gone. You had been very clear: the second-floor men’s bathroom. How could he get confused at that? Had the horniness messed with his head?

You finally turned your eyes back to Chris and smiled nervously. “Thanks. I loved…” You couldn’t really remember any of his work. “...when you slapped Will Smith.”

He snickered and sat down on the toilet. “I know probably everyone tells you this, but, man… Crashing Waves is the best tv show in history. I have, like, ten thousand Tiktok edits on my gallery. Oh, and my family loves it. We sit together to watch every season and— Wait…” He pulled out his phone. “Can you make a short video for my daughter? She loves your music.”

Thoughts of Joe disappeared the moment he mentioned his daughter. You gasped excitedly. “Of course! What’s her name?”

After you recorded various videos saying hi to Chris Rock’s kids (then to his siblings, cousins, and nephews), you promised him tickets to your next tour and refused his insistent offer of giving you his brother’s phone number. You could’ve just walked out, but your people-pleasing self didn’t want to seem rude.

The speakers had announced the ending of the break in thirty seconds, but you couldn’t go back without finding Joe. Chris Rock gave you a grateful hug and finally let you escape. 

The women’s bathroom was empty, so you ran downstairs and threw open the first-floor men’s bathroom. “Joe?” You were never repeating the mistake of opening stalls without asking. “Are you here?”

A hand came up from a stall. “Here!”

The second he saw your heels outside his door, Joe opened it and pulled you into a fierce kiss. “What took you so long?”

You fell back into the closed door and tried to kiss him back while talking. “I went to the bathrooms upstairs but you weren’t there.”

He frowned, pulling back. “You said second floor.”

“Yeah, and this is the first one.”

“No, it’s the second. The elevator didn’t work, so I climbed a set of stairs and…” He stopped as realization dawned on him. “And that floor was the Lobby, so this is the first, and the second is—”

“Upstairs,” you muttered. “I walked in on Chris Rock almost taking a shit.”

But instead of laughing, Joe shut you up with another kiss. “Don’t talk about other men while I’m trying to fuck you,” he joked.

“Yeah ‘cause I was definetly gonna blow Chris Rock.” You rolled your eyes.

Joe’s kisses dropped to your neck as his hands wandered to your butt. “I don’t know. You like slaps and kinky shit like that.”

You pushed him to the closed toilet and straddled him. “Alright, the commercial break is over, but we should make this quick anyway.”

Joe’s arms wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him. You started to grind your hips, making him moan. “Fuck…”

He had his jeans and underwear hanging on his knees, his hard cock leaking against his tummy.

You licked your lips and stood up. After bunching up your dress, you tried to kneel, but Joe stopped you. “No, wait. I don’t want that. I need to be inside you, baby,” he pleaded.

“But I’m not prepared enough.” You pulled down your thong to show your semi-wet pussy. 

If he didn’t eat you out before penetrating you, his cock would hurt you terribly. It was difficult getting used to such size.

“It’s okay.” Joe casually pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube from his pants’ pocket.

Your jaw dropped. “Have you been carrying that all night?”

He shrugged, smirking. “After I saw you trying on that dress, I knew I wouldn’t control myself all night, sweetheart.”

You blinked, frowning, then snorted. “Joe, that could’ve fallen out of your pocket mid-presentation!”

Joe opened the condom and carefully put it on. He uncapped the bottle and poured lube on his fingers. “And? Is not as if people don’t know couples have sex.”

You caressed his blond hair. “Baby, the Golden Globes is a PG-13 show. You would’ve traumatized more than just our family.”

Joe froze and grimaced. “Can we go back to sexy talk? It’s odd thinking of our families while I’m touching my dick.”

You opened your mouth but just chuckled. “I’m sorry! Uhm…” You spat on your clit and rubbed it. “Wait, did you just say ‘sexy talk’? What are you? Fifteen?”

Joe shut you up by inserting three lubed fingers inside you. Normally, he could get you wet in seconds, but for the sake of time, lube will have to do.

You moaned as he moved them quickly, preparing you. “Fuck, Joe… Just like that.”

But he took them off, wiped them on his thigh and pulled you back to straddling his lap. Obediently and on instinct, you tried to get comfortable enough to ride him. Joe leaned back, his hands dropping to caress your thighs as he looked up at you with darkened eyes.

“You look so hot, baby,” he whispered. “Gonna ride me good?”

You grabbed his protected cock and aligned it on your prepared entrance. “Gonna give you what you want so you can shut up.”

His hips flexed slightly as his tip grazed you. “I’ll never shut up about you. You’re too beautiful. My pretty girl.”

You held onto his shoulders while sinking down on him. Joe threw his head back with a choked groan, the grasp on your hips tightening like a vise, like he needed to remind himself you were really on top of him.

“Oh, God!” you whined at the size. You were barely sitting on half of it. 

Joe kissed your collarbone and soothed your hips. “It’s okay, baby. Take your time.”

“We don’t have time,” you muttered. Closing your eyes, you sank down completely. “Fuck!”

His breath turned uneven, his voice already wrecked. “Baby, I’m not lasting long. F-feels so good. Y-you feel… P-please move.” 

You braced yourself and started riding him fast, ignoring the pain and focusing on your boyfriend’s pleasure. His hands slid up to your lower back, squeezing your ass hard.

“You’re so perfect. Making me insane just by existing… I’ve needed you since we got into that limousine,” he murmured into your neck, his teeth scraping over the perfumed skin at your neck. “So good for me. Only me.”

You moaned and threw your hair back to give him more access. “Only yours, Joe. I’m yours.”

His nails were marking your skin as he helped you ride him. Joe knew he was on the verge of finishing, but he wanted you to do it first. And he knew exactly how.

Joe spanked you hard before gripping your chin and angling your face back to him. “Damn right you’re mine. This pussy was made for me.” He pressed a messy, possessive kiss to your lips, biting the lower one. “I’m not letting you go. Not even if goddamn Elordi tries to charm you again.”

You smirked and rolled your hips harder. “I knew you would get jealous about that. He was just being friendly.”

He gripped your hair and pulled you closer. “Don’t play. He was flirting with you.”

You had no patience to tease him, so you shoved down your dress straps. “I don’t care about him. He’s nothing compared to you, Joe.” You arched your back and pushed his head down to your breasts. “The only one that I want inside me, the only one that can touch me.”

Joe’s eyes turned darker before he started to press open-mouthed kisses across your chest.

“No marks,” you reminded him.

He groaned and captured one of your nipples in his mouth. His hand gripped your waist as he moved you up and down his length, his hips flexing up to meet yours.

“So pretty. So soft… Fucking obsessed with you,” he murmured against your skin.

His thumb brushed over the other nipple, delightfully watching your reactions. You gasped and moaned as your legs burned from the effort of riding him in such a small space.

You were getting close, but it wasn’t enough. Rubbing yourself wouldn’t be as pleasurable. 

“Baby…” you whined. “Take off the condom.”

Joe’s entire body went still. He released your nipple and looked up at you hesitantly. “Honey—” His voice was rough, and he was trying to not show too much eagerness. “Are you sure? You aren’t on the pill.”

You were too horny to think straight. “Whatever. I’ll take a Plan B tomorrow. There’s a pharmacy in front of the hotel.”

Joe knew he had to think rationally, but it was too difficult with you half-naked on top of him, begging him for something he had dreamed of since the moment he met you.

You noticed his hesitation, so you pressed yourself closer and kissed his jaw. “I need to feel you completely, Joe. Need you to fill me up—”

You hadn’t even finished talking when Joe was already standing up with you in his arms. Who was he trying to lie to? He would always give you anything you wanted. Anything.

He pressed you against the door and pulled out. His shaky hands took off the condom, throwing it to the floor, and sank back into you. 

“Holy shit,” he whimpered, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs. “Fuck— Feels great.”

Your pussy clenched at feeling him raw for the first time, welcoming him. There was no going back after this. Now, you finally belonged to each other. Your legs wrapped against him as he accelerated his thrusts. 

“Fuck, Joe! Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly and shamelessly. 

The door rattled behind you with each rough snap of his hips against yours. “I love you. Love you so fucking much. Moan my name again.”

You threw your head back as he buried his face against your neck. “Joe! L-love you too. Don’t s-stop, baby.”

The overwhelming feeling of your bare pussy around him was attacking all of his body. In that moment, Joe knew he never wanted to be inside anyone else ever again.

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you,” he confessed. “Ever since I saw you singing at that Christmas party, I knew I was ruined.”

He looked at you, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept fucking you.

“I’m so fucking ruined. You’re it for me, Y/N. You’re my everything,” he murmured before kissing you firmly. “My all, my world… I’m never letting you go. No point in living if I’m not loved by you.”

You were sort of taken aback by his sudden romantic words; he was usually more of a dirty talker during sex, leaving the cute poetry for his songs. But it seemed that romance was getting you closer to the edge as you clenched around him.

“Yeah? You’re obsessed with me?” you joked with a breathy moan.

“So much,” he said without hesitation. “Can’t believe every day I wake up with the prettiest, smartest, most talented woman by my side.”

You chuckled and kissed him softly. “Rub my clit, honey.”

He obeyed instantly, holding your body with an arm and finding your weakest point with his right hand. “I mean it, babe. I’m devoted to you. You have me wrapped around your finger.”

“And my pussy,” you teased before biting your lip hard.

You were on the verge… just a tiny bit more.

“Let me come inside you,” Joe whimpered in a shaky voice. His pupils were blown in lust, looking feral and drunk. His thumb was rubbing your clit with all his might. “Please… I can feel you close. Need to fill you up, baby. Need to make you mine…”

With just a brief nod from you, Joe gripped your hips hard and let himself come undone deep inside you. Feeling his cum painting your insides made you follow him over the edge. Your body trembled as a broken moan escaped your lips.

He kept you close as both tried to recover your breaths. You could feel each other's rapid heartbeats filling the quiet bathroom. Joe pressed gentle kisses on your neck and jaw.

“Don’t take the pill tomorrow,” he murmured.

You froze.

Joe slowly kissed around your face as he kept going. “I meant everything I said. I’m yours, and I wanna be yours forever. Don’t take it and let’s start a family. Together. Ours.”

When he pulled back and noticed your shocked face, he knew he had fucked up. Joe gulped and pulled out. He quickly pulled out his coat’s handkerchief and pressed it on your leaking pussy to avoid a mess on the floor. 

“I, uhm… I meant that if you want to take the pill or not, it’s your choice, and I’ll be okay with whichever,” he whispered, trying to calm you or get a different reaction from you. “But it’s your choice, okay? Didn’t mean to sound like I was pressuring you or—”

“No, no. It didn’t feel like that at all,” you quickly reassured him. 

“It’s just… I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind cancelling the tour to have a baby with you,” he confessed but quickly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I must be overwhelming you. I just—”

“And here are the nominees for Best Actress in a Television series,” was heard on the hallway’s speakers.

The show had continued, of course, but you hadn’t paid mind to it until now.

Joe and you paled, going still for a second, before quickly rearranging your clothes.

“Please not me, please not me,” you whispered nervously.

Joe helped you tidy your messy post-sex hair as you ran out of the bathroom. You hadn’t even taken a look at your reflection, but you were sure there was no lipstick on your lips and that your mascara had probably gotten mushy around your eyes.

“Do I look like I just got fucked?” you asked him as you ran down the last set of stairs to the main lobby.

Joe took a long glance at you and pressed his lips in a line. He lied, “No. Just…” He rubbed your under-eye nervously. “Uhm…”

“And the Golden Globe goes to…” 

Joe and you grabbed each other’s hands instinctively as you stood outside the doors. He had rooted for you all season… but now he was sort of wishing for Ayo Edebiri to win.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” 

“Fuck!” you both yelled.

Joe brushed your hair one last time before pushing you to the door. “Go, go!”

“I’m on it!” you groaned and hesitantly entered the theater. 

There were three cameramen frantically looking for you near your table. You held the bottom of your dress up and rushed across the tables with shaky ‘excuse me’s.

“She is here!” 

“Over there!”

You waved and smiled awkwardly as a camera found you and the crowd could finally applaud. People were standing up—oh wow—and patting your back as you passed by them.

“Congrats!”

“You were great!”

“So deserved!”

You thanked back and shook as many hands as you could until you reached the stage’s stairs. Why were they made of crystal? Ugh. You carefully climbed them, but at the last one, you stumbled. 

Gasps filled the room. An event’s assistant ran to your side before you could fall, but you were already covering your face from the embarrassment. Well, maybe you could blame your messy state on the almost-fall.

Jason Bateman gave you the award. “Congrats! You alright?”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, thanks!”

People sat down as you finally reached the microphone. Out of habit, you brushed your hair out of your face and behind your shoulders. “Oh God… I’m never going to the bathroom mid-show again!” 

Laughter ran across the place while you were internally panicking because the speech you prepared was in your purse. Time to improvise.

“Thank you, Golden Globes. I know this was a hard decision since all my fellow nominees were great. And I mean that, I watched all their shows. And uhm… Yeah. Uhm… My Crashing Waves family, thank you for the support, for trusting me with this wonderful character through every season, since I was only twenty-one and inexperienced and… a nervous mess, just like I am right now!”

On your table, your show’s producer laughed along with the crowd. Right behind him, Joe was discreetly reaching his seat.

And everything made sense again.

You smiled warmly and held the award closer to your chest. “I also wanna thank my partner of almost two years, Joe.” You sighed and looked directly at him. “This was a hard season with all the messed-up things that my character went through, and I know I wouldn’t have survived without you. You who always had pancakes and scrambled eggs ready every morning I had to go to set. You who missed many music events to be with me on set. You who helped me escape my mental monsters every night in your arms.”

Joe was looking up at you with adoration as he mouthed an ‘I love you.’ 

You giggled, your eyes getting tearful. “I love you more.” There were so many things you wanted to pour out of your heart, but maybe they were for your boyfriend’s ears only.

“Uhm, so yeah,” you turned back to the crowd. “Thanks to everyone I didn’t mention but knows I appreciate them. Bye!”

This time, an assistant was already ready to escort you down the stairs. You held his arm and whispered, “Sorry that I got you doing this too. I bet you have a lot to do already.”

He shook his head and smiled widely. “Having you touching my arm is the highlight of my life!”

“Oh!” you chuckled and patted his arm. “Want a selfie?”

After taking a picture with a few more assistants, you went back to your table. Gary, your show’s producer, hugged you tightly. “Oh, my darling Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

You thanked everyone at the table and, finally, walked to your boyfriend. He was waiting for you with a smile and a rose. You frowned. “Where did you get this?”

Joe placed an arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed your head. “Stole it from a vase on the bar. The waiter said it was fine if it was for you… then she asked me if we were secretly married and I said yes just for fun.”

Your frown deepened, but you laughed and kissed him on the lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he corrected, murmuring against your lips. He gave you the rose and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Congrats on the award, honey. I kinda cried with your speech.”

“I had so much more prepared!” you whined and looked for the crumbled up paper on your purse. “I was gonna thank my family, your mom, my high school art teacher, every girl around the world who dreams to be an actress, and our dog.”

Joe blinked as a smile slowly formed on his face. “Every girl who dreams to be an actress?”

“Yeah! I wanted to tell them to follow their dreams and not let men step on them,” you sighed sadly. “I’ll just put it in my Instagram post caption.”

Joe opened his mouth to speak, but he forgot everything when he noticed a very visible red mark below your jaw, at the left side of your neck. It hadn’t been noticeable while you were on stage due to the various spotlights… but on camera.

You frowned at his sudden silence. “What—?”

He covered the hickey with your hair and shook his head. “Nothing. Just… don’t move your hair from there… and we should probably skip the after-party.”

You paled as you slowly understood. Instinctively, you dove your hand in your purse for your phone. Joe stopped you. “Don’t… it’s been buzzing a lot and I’m not sure if it’s because of the award.”

Joe and you sat down as people scrambled around the place to enjoy the break. “I don’t have the patience,” you admitted and unlocked your phone.

There were over a thousand mentions on Twitter, more than five hundred messages from your friends, and a single one from your manager.

Laura: I’M STERILIZING JOE TOMORROW.

Joe sighed. “Don’t enter Twitter—” You ignored him. “Babe…”

He had deleted the app years before dating you, but screenshots sent from friends informed him how much people talked about you two.

Your jaw dropped at the first tweet that popped up. It had gotten over two hundred thousand likes in less than five minutes. 

There were four attachments: one of you two on the red carpet, with Joe staring hungrily at you as you posed; another one of him grabbing your ass behind the stage while you applied your lipstick; then you two walking out of the men’s bathroom, looking incredibly messy and obvious with your dress’ straps hanging off your shoulders; and the last one… you on the stage with a red circle drawn around your neck, signalling the hickey.

On top, the tweet read: STEVE HARRINGTON LIVING MY DREAM AGHHH @ joe_keery CAN YOU FIGHT?

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