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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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So Much to Lose (series) Part 1

Series summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.

Rating: 18+

pairings: Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie x Dina

Series warnings: set during outbreak, guns, Mean!Joel, eventual rough sex (specific tags that comes up) no use of Y/N or detailed physical descriptions.

Patrols were never your thing. You'd thought them more for the super athletic, the expert marksmen, the naturally ruthless.

You were a decent shot. Nothing to write home about. You'd shot animals when you were starving and on the run.

But patrolling the walls of Jackson City was always someone else's gig. Something for people not as "soft".

So when Maria told you that your name was on the roster for that month you'd been surprised.

"But I'm always on kitchen duty."

"We have new folks coming into Jackson," Maria explained, her tone brusque and her eyes weary. "None of them have weaponry experience. You do."

"Barely.

"Barely's better than nothing."

Then she'd moved from you, obviously busy with a myriad of planning and scheduling. You watched her leave, her hand resting over her swollen belly.

You were relatively new to Jackson City, barely six months living behind its sheltered walls. You didn't feel you had earned the right to disagree with Maria or to challenge her ideas.

You've stayed close to home since you're arrival, still not quite used to the life that bustled around you in the market or the dances (real dances!) in the church hall. You don't have friends here yet despite your natural propensity to others. You smile and you greet when faces pass you in the street, but your home is where it's safe.

You suppose this is why you enjoy kitchen duty. Moving around large groups of people, overhearing snatches of conversation of laughter of warmth, but always on the perimeter. Always watching, never engaging on the edges.

Maybe you are more naturally suited for patrols than you originally thought.

But not with weaponry. Shooting your old decommissioned gun is one thing. Using the heavy weapons you see being touted on the broad backs of those heading off on patrol is quite another.

When you see Tommy, one of the nicest people you know (and Maria's husband), walking by your place later that week you hasten to catch up with him.

"It's been years since I shot anything," you explain with a concerned saddle of your brows as you explain Maria's plan for you. "And back then it was only rabbits and deer. Can you just come over and give me some pointers?"

"Can't. Got lots to do to prep for the baby."

Of course, the baby, due any day. The reason for Maria's desperate need to schedule the coming months, and the weary pull of Tommy's eyes as he looks at you.

"But I'll find someone and send em over," Tommy adds when he sees the terror cross your features.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll have your patrol partner come and give you some help tomorrow afternoon. We usually team up the newbies with the more experienced marksman anyway. I'll check with Maria and see who you're paired up with."

Relief blooms in your chest at this. This is the kind of news that you have been hoping for.

The thought that the safety and survival of others would depend solely on you or come down on your shoulders had been making you sick.

"Great."

///

You made cookies.

For whatever reason that had felt like the appropriate response to having someone come over and teach you how to properly shoot a gun.

This person, your patrol partner, will be the first to enter your home since you moved in. Maria and Tommy had been there, explaining the expectations of you in the community and showing you the simple one bedroom home that would be yours. All you'd been able to think over and over as they spoke was: a bed of my own. I don't have to share.

Your place is humble but clean. You've tossed around the idea of painting the walls themselves but you don't. That feels too permanent and you've not known the security of stability in decades. It sits uneasily on your shoulders like a too-heavy jacket.

There's a knock at your door and you open it to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and remarkably expressive eyes. His mouth is set uneasily, as if he's trying to remember what it is to talk.

"You the one that needed gun lessons?"

He's wearing a dark green jacket and on his back is a collection of shotguns that you find intimidating just looking at.

"That's me," you chirp, moving back so he can enter into your home. You introduce yourself, a bit surprised at how the broad man stays hanging by the door.

"Joel," he mutters when you prompt him for his name. "Let's do this outside."

"Sure," you say going to grab your jacket from its hook by the door. "Oh, but did you want a cookie first? I made some."

Joel stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge if you're serious. When he sees you are, he blinks and then starts to walk around to the stretch of greenery near your place.

You follow after him, pulling on your jacket and jogging to keep up.

"Hey Miller," someone calls out from the street and you look over at him in surprise. Joel gives them a small wave and keeps walking.

Miller. Like Tommy and Maria Miller?

"Are you Tommy's brother?"

"Guilty."

Joel walks quickly, his legs scissoring rapidly across the fallen leaves of the cool winter day and easily outpacing you.

Cute, you think, watching his body lope away from you. Intense but cute.

///

Around the five minute mark you realize that no, Joel isn't intense or cute.

He's just a fucking asshole.

He's impatient and grouchy and even though you're trying your hardest to follow instructions you're failing miserably because he is so intimidating.

"You need to familiarize yourself with your weapon," he tells you, brandishing the shotgun and handing it to you. It's heavy in your palms, surprising you.

You grip it loosely, twisting it in your hand to aim at the ground. As you do this, the barrel of the gun swings in his direction.

"Are you insane?" Joel barks, slapping the nozzle away from his direction. "Have you never held a fucking shotgun before?"

He'd been so quiet before that the loud boom of his voice startles you. You take a step back without thinking, sure to keep your barrel pointed at the ground.

You don't bother telling him that no, you've never held a shotgun. You have a feeling that would just piss him off more.

It doesn't get better after that.

"How did they put you on patrols with aim like that?"

You scowl, bringing the gun up to your shoulders to brace. You begin to count as you aim at the tin cans Joel set up. You've hit one out of the six. You attribute much of this to the tall man pacing back and forth behind you as you try to focus. But he terrifies you, and you feel compelled to keep him in the corner your sights until he pauses and you can focus again.

You stare at the dented soup cans resting on the fence post away from you. You can almost hear Dev's soft voice in your ear. The calming sooth of his tone.

"Count if it helps...shoot on three."

"One... two..." you mutter under your breath.

"You're not gonna have time to count when a clicker's coming for your throat," Joel instructs you. "You have to be instinctual. Gotta move fast."

He kicks at your ankles, broadening your stance. You flinch at the pain of his boot against your ankle bone.

"You should be wearin' boots," Joel instructs when he sees you wince in pain. "Sneakers are no good."

"Obviously I would wear boots on patrol," you seethe. "I just figured for practice-"

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in. Don't wear that scarf either."

You pause, looking down to see just your dark blue jacket. "What scarf?"

Joel pauses. "That red one I saw hangin' in your house. It's bright. You'll stand out."

You frown before raising the gun to brace snugly against your shoulder.

For the next hour Joel's voice reaches out, punctuating the air with bits of aggressive sounding advice as you fumble.

"Non-firing hand on the hand stock."

"Finger on the stock behind the trigger guard with the rest of your fingers."

"Cheek tight to the stock."

It's after the third time Joel mutters about your firing position being shit and hits his boots against your ankle that you lose it.

"Enough," you say, placing the gun barrel gently to the ground. "This isn't going to work."

Joel has his arms crossed over his chest and he's watching you from behind a cool gaze.

"We're a bad match" you explain, your cheeks hot from irritation mingled with embarrassment at having to admit that to him. "You need to be able to trust your partner on patrols and I don't see that happening. We shouldn't be paired up."

"Fine by me."

There's relief in his voice. He doesn't want to be paired up with you any more than you do with him. Good, this will be an easy parting.

"You can get Tommy to switch us," you say with a frown at the gun laying by your feet in the grass. "He's your brother after all."

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

You're staring at him confused with eyes that widen as Joel approaches you, his gaze tight on yours.

The toe of his thick boots bump against the tip your sneakers and he tilts his head down, wanting to match your eye level.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do," Joel rasps "I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

Whoa.

He wasn't saying it to sound alluring, you know that because you can see the genuine irritation in his dark eyes as they bore into yours. And yet, Joel Miller's husky voice informing you that he gives the orders?

It gives you the tingles.

You swallow thickly and when you don't reply right away Joel makes a scoffing noise in his throat. You watch as he gathers the weapons onto his back and marches out of the clearing, desperate to be away from you.

///

"Sounds like it didn't go great with Joel," Tommy says the next morning as he passes you heading for breakfast.

So much for Joel not talking to Tommy. You slow, matching Tommy's pace as he walks alongside you.

"Not a good match," you reply lightly. Tommy is Joel's brother and you don't want to offend anyone. "I'm sorry to be a bother and make you have to reschedule."

"S'okay," Tommy says with a shrug. "I'll switch with him for tomorrow night's patrol. I can give you pointers then."

Relief goes through you, making the smile that cracks your features genuine.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tommy insists his face in a smile before it becomes drawn. "I know Joel can be a little hard to handle."

Calling Joel hard to handle suggests he's like one of the wild horses in the pens you sometimes walk by, when in reality Joel Miller is just unpleasant.

"Yeah, well," you shrug unsure of what to say so you trail off.

Tommy seems compelled to fill that silence, to explain away his brothers poor social skills.

"He lost a lot during the outbreak."

You nod, trying to look sympathetic but all you can think is,

Didn't we all?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #dark!Joel #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #series #fanfiction series #the last of us #the last of us fic #ellie x dina

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uglypastels · 10 months

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Not Wholly Evil |VIII| pirate!Eddie au

a/n - this was a struggle for me, so I have no idea how I managed to get this done so quickly. most likely due to all the fucking amazing support yall have given me, especially over the previous chapter. holy shit i could not ask for anything better <3 thank you

Series Masterlist

word count: 8.2k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. mentions of sex work.

Chapter 8: Earthshine

“It took a special kind of madness to try to be a pirate and a good man at the same time.”

― Matt Myklusch, The Lost Prince

The ghost of her hand lingered with a sting over his cheek. The impact awakened him from a dream, but the kiss dragged him back. He was simply hanging there as if from a rope, ready to fall but anytime his body was prepared to hit the ground, a force pulled at him even harder and up and down his soul went. They both tasted of salt water and rum, yet she tasted sweeter, but perhaps “intoxicating” was a better word for it. His head was spinning at the sensation of her touch. He was stuck in a whirlwind, and her lips kept him anchored to the ground.

Eddie let his hands fall to her hips, closing the cap between them. Her hand, which had marked his face moments before, now rested gently against his chest, nails digging into the material of his shirt.

How long had he felt the need for this; for her? It was impossible to tell how deep within himself it had come from and how hard he had fought to erase it before, but there was no need to hide it now. The window was only so small, and who knows what would happen once closed. So, Eddie ensured everything he meant with that kiss reached her. No two human beings had ever been closer, tied together by something between them.

It was a heat, a hunger, growing larger by the second. A beast ready to devour everything in its path if not tamed. They might have stopped it if they had been aware of it. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was what they wanted all along.

His hands, steady on her, began to migrate over her hips, down her thighs, on her back. Her hand, meanwhile, trembled as it returned to its place on his cheek. The gentleness of her touch sent sparks through him, a feeling he had not encountered in a very long time and had never imagined to feel again. A kiss so simple and yet…

It was angry, wild, passionate, bold and forceful.

It was him and her.

It was them.

It could not have lasted longer than a few seconds, but it could have been a lifetime. He didn’t want it to end, ignoring that it eventually had to. Eddie would happily ignore the scream in his lungs to stay like this, but for once, he decided not to act selfishly.

They still had eachother in their holds when he took the first breath. There was an interval when he opened his eyes, waiting for her to do the same. He saw how she breathed in his presence and let it sink into her. Then, when she finally opened her eyes, they were the brightest he had ever seen them be. Vibrant with life, stained with tears. Eddie had to compose himself not to show the pain it caused him to see her like that—something he had grown quite an expert in over the past few days.

But what about the new pain that stung him when she stepped back, and her hand reached for her mouth in shock at what they had just done? He had a brief instinct to follow her and close that gap again, but instead, he doubled their distance. The same question rang through him, however.

What had they done? What did he do? The latter of the questions seemed to be a constantly more frequent thought of his since he had met her. Whatever he did, implied or not, always seemed to be the wrong choice. It constantly only led him deeper into a pit, and with each choice, the possibility of ever climbing out seemed less and less likely. To think that none of this was even supposed to happen. He should have kept his distance from the beginning, should have kept her away, but like any man, he was weak regarding his feelings.

Was that what this was? Feelings? If asked, many would say he did not possess these. She would be one of them, and twistedly, it made him want to laugh.

He didn’t—laugh, move, or say anything. Neither did she. They looked at eachother, the two-step distance never seeming so great as it did in that moment. There was so much Eddie had wanted to say, to apologise for, and his lips were ready to speak with a light parting when the world returned to them with a slam to the door. With a blink, everything around them became that much more real, and there was no time to process anything. Whoever was on the other side of the door was becoming impatient, slamming their hand harder and harder, making the entire wall shake.

‘Come in!’ Eddie hated that the first words that came out of his mouth were this aggressive or that he couldn’t take his eyes away from her and, therefore, could see how she didn’t falter. Two pairs of eyes were locked into place. Only when the door opened to the sight of Harrington, drenched to the bone, did they move.

Steve’s eyes wavered between them. How obvious was what had just occurred? Eddie felt like he was glowing, set on fire and burning bright. Was it guilt, embarrassment, pride or all of the above?

Then all three of them stood motionless, observing the others, trying to read each other’s minds in this situation.

Harrington was the one to break the silence, clearing his throat nervously like he knew his presence in the room was much unwished at that moment. ‘We’ll be arriving on Saint Claire shortly, cap.’

It cost Eddie longer than it should have to find a response, and the words he did come up with were sparse in meaning.

‘Right, yes, of course.’ He began to make his way over to the door when he stopped and turned to look her way, extending the passage with his arm. ‘After you.’

‘What?’ She looked at him in confusion. The one word sounded as if his suggestion was an offence, making Eddie feel hot in the neck. He was losing his grip on things, and this lack of control made his stomach twist.

‘You are more than welcome to stay aboard, princess.’ Could they tell what he was thinking from the way he moved? Did the slightest twitch in his face or the scratch of his nose give away all his thoughts and insecurities? If so, neither of them did anything. Eddie waited for her to say something, reply with one of her usual snide remarks and try to argue with him. If she had done so, he honestly could not think of how to respond to it. How much longer could they keep performing this little charade? Especially after what had just happened. It was not as if he had planned for things to turn out as they had, but there was hope that some changes might take place between them now.

Her response came in no shape of words but by her walking past Eddie and Steve, avoiding their bodies swiftly. Eddie followed suit, keeping some distance between her and himself, but Steve kept him up with one foot on the threshold.

‘Hey, you alright?’ He asked in a whisper, not wanting anyone to hear and with his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

‘It’s fine,’ Eddie shrugged him off. He glanced at the deck to see her standing against one of the masts, looking out at the island ahead. Eddie had not considered the gloom that the storm would bring over it.

‘What happened to your cheek?’ Steve let his chin point out to it, and Eddie immediately regretted his instinct to reach up to his face at the question. What was there to see? He could barely feel the rush from the impact anymore, and when he pulled his hand away, there was no blood, and he doubted a bruise would form, but maybe some redness had started to develop.

‘Nothing,’ he stiffened, dropping his hands quickly.

‘Eddie,’ Steve made another attempt, just to be cut off by his captain.

‘I said nothing, Harrington,’ Eddie pushed his way through. ‘Get back to your post. We’ll be docking soon.’ He walked away but just about heard Steve’s reply that, yeah, he knows. Hopefully, Steve could not hear Eddie’s sigh in relief from the cool rain on his skin. He had not thought that possible after the day's events, but he was slowly cooling down, especially when he met the midnight breeze, which felt good. At least the weather improved, but he still felt his insides twisting and turning like he was caught up in a hurricane.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realised he had nowhere to go. He knew he should stay away from the one place he wanted to be. Again that feeling of lack of control took over him. He felt restless. Hopeless.

Eddie needed to get off this boat. He needed a drink.

Saint Claire was a small island where people made money through fishing and the constant flow of ships that sailed into its humble harbour. Sailors from all corners of the world supplied the inhabitants with their dire need for food, entertainment and sex. This need resulted in the slow construction of Main Street, which spanned across the eastern coast, filled with taverns, hostels and other required necessities for anyone who might come across it.

Some called it the Battleground for the amount of broken glass, furniture and other remaining scraps that are always left hanging around after the innumerable amount of fights that break out in the area. The sound of windows or bottles breaking bones was a common melody in the neighbourhood.

Others called it the Flame, as the light inside the buildings never seemed to go out, no matter the time, pulling in customers like moths to a flame. No matter the time, the night stayed always young. The drinking and singing would not end until the sun rose above the sea, but even then, it was never really over. There was one brief window of peace on the island, somewhere around noon most times, when the ships in the harbour would set sail and make place for the new arrivals, ready for the chaos to start all over again.

For the Hellfire crew, however, Saint Claire was a safe haven. The island saw enough drunken brawls on the daily basis that it did not need to get involved in any of the politics of its neighbouring islands, let alone those further away, and so most shops and those upon it lost their authority the second they stepped a foot on the ground. Because of this, many were under the misconception that the island was a land of no rules, but on the contrary, it ruled under strict self-proclaimed laws, and those who would not abide would pay heavily. One way or another.

This resolved very few arguments between the island’s guests and caused many a fight, but in turn, it resulted in plenty of entertainment for those who happened to walk by or sit next to the fighting parties. Even though Eddie found himself to usually be involved in some capacity, he still found a great sense of enjoyment in it all. He could not read minds, doubted he even wanted to, and had no idea how his crew actually felt about all this, but there had not been any complaints yet in the span of their countless visits to the island.

It had been by pure chance that they had hit the storm while already nearing Saint Claire and that the harbour was just in their reach when things seemed to be tightening down on them. Once the waves had settled and Eddie had made sure that no one had been grievously injured, he made his round on the ship to see what exactly had been damaged. There was the broken barrier on the deck that now gaped out at the sea and was in need of mending. Then something about the angle at which the foremast stood did not sit right with him. It might have been a pre-existing problem or nothing at all, but someone had to check on it before it was too late. Miraculously, the lower deck had barely suffered besides some small leakage that had already been taken care of. In a way, Eddie thought that his office had gotten the worst blow by the small storm that had thrown all his belongings in disarray. He had meant to pick it all up, but how could he clean when she lay in his bed unconsciously.

The sight of her like that made him sick. She could have listened to just this once, and they could have avoided… all of it, and then he wouldn’t be stuck pacing his ship in the way he was, doing his best to avoid everyone so he could clear his mind—

So, the other reparations would have to wait until the morning. It was late; they were all tired, as the battle against the storm had taken a toll on everyone. There was no use in working deep into the night and possibly making things even worse because of the exhaustion. Instead, they would go into town, drink themselves numb until the sun reappeared, and let the regret of their nocturnal choices set in nicely.

The hellfire sailed into the harbour, and the result of the storm in the town was immediately visible. Already from miles away, Eddie saw how unusually dull it looked. Everyone had gone inside to hide from the rain and wind and boarded up their windows to protect the fragile constructions. But at closer inspection, he saw the slivers of light fighting their way through the blanks and shining out to them like broken beacons.

Their arrival was nothing new, but the comfort of familiarity was missing in Eddie. He had never felt this on edge when stepping down from his ship onto the dock of Saint Claire, never this vigilant. The lack of light brought everything into a different perspective that he did not appreciate. Suddenly every quirk in the empty street seemed to be someone looking for trouble, and every sudden sound must have been a weapon. He kept looking around himself as the crew walked past the darkened buildings. He supposed it didn’t help that he saw at least three ships with royal crests on them, a usual announcement of trouble. But it wasn’t the darkness or the silence that had put his sense on sharp, not even the possibility of encountering any kind of enemy. It was her. Her presence made him that much more aware of all the dangers lurking around.

The reassurance finally came over him when the party reached the last building of the street—The General. It was one of the smallest taverns on the island and usually the least populated one, but nevertheless, it was one of the finest establishments Edde had ever had the pleasure to visit in his rough lifetime. Walking in front of the rest, he was honoured with the task of opening the door.

As soon as he did so, before he even managed to take one step inside, he felt the wheeze of air pass him by as a bottle hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces at his feet. It could not have been more than an inch away from his ear.

It was good to be back.

Just like he had expected, there were not many people inside; maybe two tables had been occupied—more than plenty of participants and observants for the fight that was on the verge of starting—when the crew arrived and filled the rest of the seats. Before anything could be said or demanded, a woman walked up, stylishly avoiding the wild limbs being thrown about by the earlier client. The impressive skill at which he had made her way through the room was only enhanced by the way in which she held half a dozen large ale tankards in her arms, all filled to the brim, and not one drop was spilt when she put them down at one of the tables. The party greeted her with a chorus of cheers, grabbing the drinks quicker than Eddie could manage to blink.

The barmaid was still looking down broadly at the few customers she so quickly managed to satisfy when she said, ‘Where is my money, Munson?’ with a matronly smile on her face.

‘Good to see you too, Joyce,’ Eddie leaned back in his chair.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Joyce rolled her eyes, the size of them making the expression that much more prominent to Eddie, and crossed her arms, unimpressed. ‘Spare me the formalities. You owe me, so pay up.’

Eddie had prepared for this exact exchange before he even realised that the Hellfire would make herself seen on the island, so he opted against fighting with the tavern owner and pulled out a leather pouch with a sigh. It jingled loudly at the smallest of movements.

‘There you go.’ He threw it to Joyce, who quickly caught it and immediately opened it to estimate whether the amount was anywhere near the agreed-upon amount. Seeing her do so, Eddie added: ‘Everything’s there, as promised, with enough spare to cover tonight.’

Joyce gave him a look that they would still see about that before looking around at what else the cat dragged into her place. A room filled with hooligans, drenched to the bone, sunk down into their seats, six of them already with their faces covered in her home-brewed ale. But nothing escaped Joyce, and she quickly noticed the newest addition to the party. Immediately, the hostess within Joyce sprung out. ‘Hi there, what I can get you, Honey?’

Eddie looked over. Of course, she sat down as far away from him as possible. He hadn’t expected anything less, really. She had found a spot next to Robin, on the opposite side of the room, and had made herself as small as possible among the crew. She gave it a moment before answering Joyce, clearly unsure how to approach the situation, but eventually smiled and simply refused the offer with a kind ‘I’m alright, thank you.’

‘You sure?’ Joyce raised a brow, but it was directed at Eddie, who had just grabbed himself one of the bowls of sunflower seeds. It was one of the reasons he decided to return to this particular tavern as often as he did. Joyce tended to roast them, so sometimes, they would still be warm when Eddie got his hands on them. He was in the middle of cracking one open when Joyce asked her the last question Eddie had wanted to hear here: ‘How’d you get involved with these guys, then?’

‘Rescued her from the pyre?’ Eddie mumbled against the sunflower pit, looking for the next one to eat, hoping his answer would be sufficient. In reality, it only half covered up the truth.

‘I was taken from my ship.’

‘Your ship?’ Joyce pursued, much to Eddie’s dislike. Maybe she wouldn’t say it, but she’d just nod, and the conversation would move on. Either way, he could not interrupt anymore. If he would do so, he knew that Joyce would just shut him down before he even got a word in.

‘The Red Tail.’

Eddie cringed but hoped no one would see it more as he accidentally bit his tongue… which was also the case. He was too occupied cursing everyone out in his mind than to think of the metallic taste pooling in his mouth. He glanced her way, but naturally, she wouldn’t meet his eye.

Did she know the lack of care Saint Claire has for outsiders? Did she expect anyone to ring an alarm bell for her? Or was she simply trying to embarrass Eddie in front of his crew—but maybe it's what he deserved. Still, he did not need his mistakes to be pointed out so blatantly to him, not in front of Joyce, out of all people.

‘You don’t say,’ Joyce blinked slowly, turning her attention to Eddie, who decided it was best to stick to the bowl of pits for now and not look elsewhere. He did not need to see the way his friend tried to hide her anger. He just heard her say, ‘well, if you need anything, just let me know. And you—’ she spoke out to the rest, much harsher should be noted, ‘better keep it clean in here. Last time it took me four days to scrub up after you, and I will not be doing that again.’

There was an ensemble of mumbled apologies, which included Eddie. In the world, only a limited group of people held the power to make the Hellfire party feel bad for their actions. It was a short list that very recently just added a name to it, but at the top of it was undoubtedly Joyce. Her stance in front of them was enough of a message they had heard before that while she might not start any fights in her house, she could easily be the one to end them. Eddie had witnessed it enough times to know it to be entirely true.

With one last disappointed look directed at the captain, one that Eddie wished he had missed because it made him feel like a small kid again, Joyce returned to the bar to serve up more drinks.

The first few minutes of the night were spent in exhausting sobriety and sparse conversation, but as more ale and rum was poured, the party livened up. Like usual, the chatter and laughter brought back their much-needed energy and everything that had happened on the boat that day was soon forgotten.

For the most part.

Much to no avail, no matter how many drinks went down his throat and how hard he tried to think about anything else, Eddie held back from the festivities—uncharacteristically so, as was pointed out by several. As much as he had hoped that the alcohol would wash everything away, he felt just as clear-minded as he had that morning when he woke up in the holding cell. At least his back did not hurt anymore. The kink in his neck would just not go away, no matter how hard he tried, but he had only himself to blame for that.

Whatever he wanted to do that night, he could not stop thinking about her. His attention kept wavering over to that one side of the room, where things seemed to be a bit calmer but just as enjoyable of a time as the rest was having. Eddie couldn’t tell what she was saying or doing as she had conveniently made sure to turn her back toward him at any given time, but from how relaxed she sat by, it all seemed… fine.

Out of all the things that had and could have happened, Eddie never imagined her sitting at the table with his sort—though he never believed he was that much different from any other man. But how had this happened? When did this happen? It was like the world had suddenly turned upside down, seeing her sit among his friends, his crew, wearing his clothes, talking. Laughing. Almost as if she belonged.

Almost because he doubted she would consider herself one with the group, he didn’t blame her. This life was no one’s first choice. Certainly not his. And he could not let her fall into it now too. Not that she would, their journey would last no longer than a few more days, and then she’d be back home, and the Hellfire would never have to go near that place again.

Eddie had really thought that it would be much easier after everything, but the thought of returning there brought a bitter taste into his mouth…or was that just a burned sunflower seed he had just consumed? He spat it out and washed his throat with rum, ignoring most of the things around him as he concentrated on the heavy feeling that the drink brought.

‘Joyce!’ someone called out, but Eddie was not paying enough attention to notice who. ‘Where is the lute?’ However, the mention of the instrument pulled him out of the haze.

‘ ‘Where it always is!’ Joyce shouted back. The lute hung over their heads on the wall. Already knowing what direction this was going in, Eddie tried to protest.

‘Can we not do this, gentlemen.’ He was not in any mood for a performance, but that did not matter. The next thing he knew, the strings were pushed into his arms, and everyone awaited with great expectations on what he would play. Eddie hesitated. His fingers were already on the right chords for the wrong song. He knew no one was interested in listening to it, but it was the only one he cared about right then. So, he let his hands flow freely, strumming the notes to be immediately met with disagreement.

‘Not that one!’

‘Play something else!’

Right. He thought for a moment but mindlessly hit the strings until something coherent emerged. He didn’t even need to sing himself; the drunken state of his crew allowed them to do most of the work without a fault. He was just there for the show and that he could do. He hummed along as everyone else belted out the words from the heart. It was a silly song they had all come up with one starless night when the waters seemed to have taken them hostage. It was nothing specific, simply a song of monsters that groaned and heroes who overcame their battles without sweat. What they hoped to all be. Maybe one day.

Playing the strings had always been like second nature to Eddie. He had been able to do it ever since he was a kid, which often brought him comfort. The repetitive motions gave him stability that his life so often lacked, so he focused on that as his eyes lost their focus on her. Had she been watching him? For a moment, he thought he had caught her looking. He must look stupid with this lute in his lap. He much rather preferred a gittern. The hold was more comfortable on that.

He should have looked away by now. It would only make things worse if she caught him staring the way he was, but she was too occupied. There was so much going on, after all. Some of them had started moving tables around, creating a place to dance. Since when did they dance? Eddie wanted to laugh. Of course, when there was a lady present, when else?

She tried to object to the invitations but eventually gave in and was pulled into the circle. The shirt was still too big on her, Eddie noticed. She had to keep pulling the sleeve up over her shoulder, and he had to do everything he could to stop thinking about how he wanted to pull it off her. All of it. If she could read minds, which sometimes Eddie genuinely thought she could, he would be a dead man walking.

But if she could read minds, she must have been too occupied at that moment. Too busy dancing with the rest of the crew. It was similar to a waltz, but since Eddie doubted most of his men had properly rehearsed one in years, it was an awkward two-step at best. Not that it stopped anyone from having fun. She at least looked like she was enjoying herself. Eddie tried to recount if she had, after all, gotten a drink because this could not be the same woman who had been in his chambers earlier that day. Unless he was at fault for this change.

He only lied to himself, pretending he had not messed with her. It wasn’t supposed to have been like this. Things just kept going wrong, and then he would panic, and the next thing he knew, he locked her in his bloody room for half a night or stabbed her in the ribs.

The sight of her bleeding still came back to him in his nightmares. As if they were not full of memories already, now she was there too. Covered in blood, and all because of him. She would scream until there was a sudden silence, and he’d hold her lifeless frame in his arms… just to wake up and hope that would be the last time his mind conjured the images up.

It never was.

Was he still playing? From the dancing around him, Eddie could only assume so. Surely if he had completely frozen up from his thoughts, someone would defrost him from his mental prison. But no one was paying any attention to him, too occupied by her. The way in which she moved freely around the room would put a smile on any man’s face, and Eddie certainly was one of them. How could he not? He should probably have looked away at some point, but he simply could not. And maybe it was for the better that he was so in awe with her, or he would have missed the brief moment when their eyes connected. He doubted she had meant to look his way, but she still had, and he could have sworn that her lips tightened their smile slightly higher, though it could have just been what he had wanted to see. A shadow playing nasty tricks with him.

Robin, who must have had a few ales too many, was flailing her arms around, singing along drunkenly to the song Eddie played. It usually went exactly like this. Robin would drink, dance and force everyone to join her and “no” was not an acceptable answer in this circumstance. No one could disagree on the matter, not even Harrington, who sat outside the circle.

‘I invite King Steve to the floor,’ Robin demanded. The two women giggled next to each other before Robin went up to Harrington, who was still protesting and pulled him up by the arm. Eddie had to remind himself to keep up the tempo of the song, which was difficult when all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears at the sight of him coming closer to her—realistically, Robin had pushed them into eachother, but all Eddie saw was the way he held her hand as they danced together. How he wished it could have been him with her.

He did not know what stung so hard at seeing them together. There was no rational explanation, only the speed at which his heart raised with anger. And for what? He knew Harrington for years. They were like brothers and would sooner choose to die than hurt the other. Eddie could trust him with his life, so why could he not trust him with her? Why did he need to have that trust? What was it that made him lose all control around her? He just wished to understand his own mind.

As they kept dancing, Eddie had to force himself to look away, already feeling the same dark spark that had brought upon a fire that had nearly burned everything down before. All he could do was remind himself of what he had done to control himself. The memory of you lying on the ground, covered in blood that he had spilt. It was a dumb mistake that nearly cost him her life.

He had never meant to touch her. It had all been a miscalculation of distance, combined with the sheer blindness of his emotions. The worst was he could not even remember lashing out with the sword. One moment he stood there, watching Steve hold her, seeing her laugh at something he had said and the next, she screamed out in pain. He had tried to stop her, wanting to apologise. He had wanted to run after her, but what good would that have done? Eddie couldn’t think straight.

It was Steve that pulled him out of it.

‘Eddie!’ He had shouted. ‘What were you thinking?’ To which Eddie had no response because, simply, he wasn’t thinking. It took him too long to regain a grip on his mind, and he took one of the bottles that stood next to the dice table. At first, he had just wanted to drink it all, down it in one go, but he thought of her lying there with the wound— it needed to be cleaned. It took everything in him to get down there, knowing he was most likely the last person she would have wanted to see, and that was quickly proven right.

Words failed him in every sense, so he left before he could make it even worse, but the damage had already been done. He returned to his cabin and immediately noticed a difference. He was sure he had removed most of the paper from his desk the night before, yet the ground was spotless.

She had cleaned up for him.

Eddie screamed out, and his fist hit the side of the wardrobe. Splinters embedded themselves into his skin as he screamed, letting out all the frustrations he felt about himself.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Eddie heard behind him.

‘You’re the last person I want to see right now, Harrington.’ He didn’t turn around to face him, just walked straight to his desk. He noticed the drawer was open, his letter on top of the bottles, but there was too much going on in his mind to be angry at that as well. For now, at least.

‘Am I to believe you’re angry at me?’ Steve scoffed as he entered the room.

‘What if I am?’

‘Why? Because I stopped her fall? Talked to her? Because you nearly impaled her.’ As far as felonies went, Eddie was taking the crown on that one. He leaned his head down into his lap.

‘You know I didn’t mean to—’ he cursed. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ He couldn’t admit to Steve that the sight of them together had struck a nerve. He was supposed to be better than that. Do better. He really thought he was doing better.

He had no idea where his next question came from.

‘Do you like her?’

‘Excuse me?’ Steve was taken aback.

‘Do you like her? Or are you just trying to—’ The idea of Steve taking advantage of her boiled his blood.

‘You’re going insane, Ed.’ Steve quickly stopped him, speaking as calmly as he could. ‘We both know she’s not just some girl, and I think she deserves better than what we’ve been treating her like. This situation is messed up, but we could try to make her feel better, not like a prisoner.

‘But if you want me to back off, fine. I’ll let her be. See how that goes, but don’t think about screwing me over when it all blows up in your face.’ He had warned him before walking out again with only one more thing to say. ‘And Munson,’

‘What?’ Eddie stopped looking at his hand, which had gone bright red now from the impact of the wardrobe. Steve’s eyes were filled with sadness, exasperation.

‘I’m not him. Just remember that.’

And Eddie did his best in doing so. He could trust Steve but could not let go of things that quickly. It was, after all, the past that made you who you are. Mankind is shaped by memories, and Eddie had too many of those. He wished he could just forget everything and start over, but what would be the point of anything if it was that simple.

His fingers began to hurt, as well as his head. Whether it was the music he was told to play or his head sobering up, he had had enough for now and handed the lute to the man sitting next to him. It wasn’t anyone from his crew, just another customer, most likely an islander. The man grinned at him with a toothy grin before starting to pluck away at the strings. There had been a slight whine from the rest in the second the music had stopped, but as it resumed, it was all forgotten. Eddie approached Joyce, but not before snatching away another bowl of sunflower seeds from a table. When he arrived at the countertop, she was already pouring him a pint of ale.

‘So what’s the story here, then?’ She asked as she watched him down the drink in one go.

‘There is no story,’ he said once he put the cup down, out of breath, already signing to her to pour another. She looked unimpressed but grabbed the tankard anyway.

‘So I am to believe nothing is going on between you and— and her.‘ She said it with so much meaning behind the one word, and since it was them, Eddie understood all of it.

Joyce’s big eyes had always been intense. When she looked at you, she looked down deep into your soul, unlocking all your secrets with just that one glance. Which is perhaps why Eddie did his best to avoid looking at her too much. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Boy, you really do exhaust me.’ Joyce sighed. ‘Don’t make me point out the obvious.’ She placed down the next drink, and Eddie took it slow this time, only sipping small amounts at a time. Joyce knew that there was nothing else she could get out of him on this matter, but there was so much else she needed to talk about.

‘How did she get on your ship, anyway?’

‘You heard her.’ Eddie didn’t want to explain it. Not to Joyce. He hated repeating himself. So, he took a handful of sunflower seeds and began to occupy himself with those.

‘Yes, I did. The Red Tail. What happened to it?’

‘Do you have any more complaints I should take care of?’ He tried to change the subject, and failed at it miserably.

‘No.’ Joyce still answered him quickly before returning to her question. ‘What happened to the Red Tail? What did you do?’

‘Exactly what I told you I would.’ He cracked open another seed. ‘And see how it’s worked out well so far?’

Joyce had been leaning against the counter, but at the sound of Eddie’s words, she took a step back, disbelief written all over her face. ‘Eddie…’

‘That’s Captain Munson to you,’ he snickered, but she was too used to his attempts at lighting the mood at the worst of moments. And when that didn’t work, there was only one other thing Eddie knew how to do.

Joyce didn’t even get to finish her question. Eddie got up as her words faded into a weak ‘Is he…’

He just about managed to say his last words before they got lost in the chaos of the party. ‘He got what he deserved. They all did.’

More people must have entered The General because surely this crowd did not come solely from the Hellfire, excluding the handful of local drunks. They must have come in as the music had started. No one in Saint Claire could pass on such an occasion, causing a large commotion. As the door opened and closed constantly, only welcoming more people in, it was suddenly packed from wall to wall. Eddie felt an elbow in his side as he tried to return to his seat, spilling the ale right onto himself. In response, he threw the tankard toward where the arm must have come from, not caring if he had hit the right person, quickly making himself scarce before the person currently cursing out realised it was him to be the perpetrator.

His previous seat was, naturally, already taken. The dancing had stopped as there was no longer space for it unless they decided to get up onto the tables—a most likely option if given a few more drinks. But neither that nor the stain seeping through his shirt was a problem to Eddie.

‘Where is she?’ he asked, but no one could hear him. He tried again, louder, directing his voice to the crew closest to him. They all shrugged one after the other. How could someone disappear into thin air while surrounded by dozens of people with no witnesses? How did none of his men bother to keep an eye on her?

Finally, Eddie caught sight of Robin, slouched back in a chair, giggling.

‘I think she—’ Robin’s eyes couldn’t stay focused, and she kept slipping into laughter. ‘I think she went to get some air—as if there is no air in here?’ She laughed. As a matter of fact, the room was only getting hotter, and it was becoming harder to breathe.

Was that because of a lack of fresh air, however, or was the tight feeling in Eddie’s chest coming from somewhere else entirely? He pushed his way through the crowd to the door.

It had stopped raining, but the wind had only picked up since the crew entered the tavern. Some buildings had taken off the boards from the windows, illuminating the street with the candlelight from inside, but for the majority, everything was lit by the moon’s silver glow, and barely at that. Anything outside of Main Street was a dark abyss. Surely, she wouldn’t have dared to wander off toward the forest?. Eddie could describe her in many ways, none of which would suggest she was stupid enough to risk her life out there. Who knew what roamed around in the trees and caves.

For good measure, although not expecting much of a response, he called out her name as he walked down Main Street. Every time he passed by a tavern or inn, he considered walking inside, just to check if she, by any chance, decided to do as well, but he could not think of reasons why she would have.

‘Can we help you, handsome?’ A woman’s voice called out to him. Eddie turned around to meet two women standing outside one of the taverns. Their black dresses were tightened to accentuate their frames and push up their breasts, making them impossible to miss, no matter how hard one tried. They smiled suggestively until they realised who they had approached. ‘Oh, Munson, it’s you.’

‘Tabitha,’ Eddie was glad to see her for once, ‘did you by any chance see a woman walk by here?’

‘Why? Who is she? Another one of your little conquests?’ Her eyes narrowed into accusatory slits, and her large lips formed a sour pout.

‘Tabbie, sweetest, don’t be like that.’ if Tabitha were to explode like she often had the tendency to do, then Eddie had no time to resolve it, so the best solution was to just try and stick to her sweet side, like a fly caught in honey. He glanced at the other woman beside Tabitha, but she did not seem interested in the old lovers' squabble. If that is even what he could call it.

‘You had promised you would come back.’ Tabitha whimpered.

‘And I did.’ Eddie did not have the patience for this.

‘To break my heart!’ Her voice came out in high-pitched squeaks.

‘Now, c’mon, we both knew it wasn’t meant to be.’ The next thing he knew, he felt a harsh sting across his face. The second slap he received that night. The rings on Tabitha’s face only added to the pain, but somehow he didn’t feel it as deep as the first one he received. ‘Do you feel better now?’ He sighed.

Tabitha shrugged, crossing her arms.

‘So, the girl, did you see her? She was wearing a shirt, trousers…’ he tried to describe her.

‘Oh, her.’ Tabitha grimaced. ‘Yeah, I saw her. Think she was making her way down to the harbour. Was with some guy. They were talking about one of the ships.’

‘What guy?’ This could not be happening.

‘How should I know. He looked a bit stuck up, if you ask me. A bit like you did once.’ She laughed, and her friend joined her sheepishly. None of this sounded good to Eddie. He thanked them, this time without making Tabitha any drunken promises, and ran as fast as his legs could take him to the harbour. How could he have been so stupid? So careless. He let her go out of sight for a minute, and now, just like that, she was gone. Or it would be if he didn’t get there in time. Maybe he could still catch her?

There were many ships in the Saint Claire harbour, the Hellfire, of course, being the most beautiful of them all, and it should have been challenging to figure out which boat she could be on. It should have taken Eddie ages to realise which ship he was looking for, except only one had opened its sails and created a significant distance between itself and the shoreline. Its silhouette was a black wraith against the moon.

Eddie’s body deflated. He felt so numb from the shock he barely felt himself falling to his knees. It was over. Just like that, she was gone. He wanted to scream, and maybe he had even done so. It was too much of a blur. All his thoughts merged into that all too familiar and seething whirl of anger.

How had he been able to do this? None of this was supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be on board that damned ship. They should not have taken her with them. Not locked her up, shunned her out or scared her off. He shouldn’t have done any of them. Maybe it was good he let her escape, but one thing he would never forgive himself for.

He should never have fallen for her.

He had known better and yet let it happen just like that. How stupid could he have been? At least he could not think of a better punishment for himself than having to live with these thoughts, the regret, for the rest of his life.

The sand dug into him through his trousers, and he was ready for it to swallow him whole. He would have stayed there if it wasn’t for his crew. Maybe they were too drunk to miss him now, but they needed Eddie. Just as much as he needed them. He couldn’t just abandon them because of his issues. He had brought them into enough trouble because of them as it is. He just had to get over it for their sake. There was nothing he could do anymore but move past it and hope he would forget someday.

It took some more time for him to be able to walk again. His legs carried him back to his ship, too tired to make his return through Main Street to The General. He had just about enough energy to grab a bottle and sink into it before sinking into his bed.

It was ridiculous. He knew it. Eddie Munson, captain of the Hellfire, vanquisher of the seven seas… if people could only see him now. Drunk. Exhausted. Alone. Heartbroken.

Funny how history tended to repeat itself.

He threaded the plank up to the ship, keeping his balance as best as possible. His steps were getting heavier with each one he took. There were days when he could have stayed in his quarters for hours, locked away from the world, reading, writing, calculating new routes or decoding more of the cryptic messages he had found in his books. He’d had people give him reminders to come out for meals at times. But now, with everything in there that reminded him of her, how could he go about his days like normal?

How could he be so stupid?

How could he be so stupid to leave a fire burning inside? All it took was one spark, and it could burn everything down. The sight of the candle burning through the strained glass of the door made him speed up his walk up the stairs. Eddie walked in to see the damage, but there was none.

One single candle illuminated the room as best it could, leaving the rest in its shadows, which moved about with the flickering of the light. Despite Eddie having spent hours in the room, having placed every single item inside it, knowing it like the back of his hand, in the dark, it all felt brand new. It was like the darkness was watching him.

Except that wasn’t it.

On the contrary, suddenly, it was as if the sun had burst inside him.

Eddie didn’t dare blink, scared that if he moved, she would disappear. Because what else could it be but some kind of hallucination or a dream he would wake up from much too soon.

‘I thought you had left.’ Against all his willpower, he blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, she still stood there in front of him, and it really was her, only a few feet away, here in his cabin.

‘I wanted to.’ Her voice was weak, much like he felt at that moment.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘I don't know.’

Chapter 9 - 18+ version

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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taglist (part 1)

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demonicputto · 4 months

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An overview of my fanfiction series so far, with short blurbs about each section. (They get a bit spoilery in the later sections, if you care about that sort of thing.)

To be continued in Part 11, at some point.

#by my side fic #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #fanfiction series #I wanted something to pin #This is what I'm doing on break from writing the series...

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honeysuckleharringtons · 2 months

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Part Eight: Lukewarm ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Summary: (Then) Motherhood gets a whole lot more complicated for Reader when someone who she thought was gone for good shows up to meet her baby. — (Now) When Steve confides in Reader about his not-so-good relationship with his father, Reader reminds him that he's so much more than someone's opinion of him.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,819

Content Warning: explicit language, infidelity/cheating (not by Reader or Steve), allusions to physical abuse, Lonnie is a creep and a douchebag, Steve's dad is an asshole, mentions of male genitalia as an insult, mentions of food, light mentions of medical stuff related to Steve's job, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this is extremely late, more to come on that later!! but for now, i hope you all enjoy!

Originally Written: 01/31/2024 through 02/19/2024

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, March of 1988 ]

The first thing that you heard after waking up was the sound of your baby crying. The thing that followed was the screaming match coming from down the hall.

Let it be known, all families fight, even the Byers. But it was a rarity for Joyce's voice to be heard amongst the yelling, unless it was to break up the fight. Generally speaking, if there was an argument at the Byers house, it involved one or more of Joyce's children.

Which was why you found it so strange that hers was the first voice you registered. Jonathan's voice came next, a weird pang stinging in your heart as you thought about him spending his spring break at home arguing.

In an attempt to comfort the baby, you picked her up from her crib and held her close to your chest. Her colic was slowly getting better, however you couldn't say you blamed her for being fussy over the verbal war happening in the other end of the house.

“Come on, lovebug,” you whispered, leaving a kiss to the soft skin of your baby's head. “Let's go investigate.”

You were used to playing the role of the mediator, especially when it came to arguments involving your mother. Joyce was usually the mediator, but you often took her place when she herself was involved in the fight.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you entered the living room, ready to find out who stole the last brownie or who left their shoes in the wrong spot. “What is going o-”

Lonnie.

Lonnie fucking Byers decided to show up after seven years of being gone. After seven years of saying, “Sayonara, kids. My new wife is more important than my children will ever be.”

“What is he doing here?” Right now, you wanted to use every curse word in the book, but for fear of passing that habit along to the baby someday, you'd been holding them in. What you really wanted to ask was, What the fuck is this asshole doing in our house?

Lonnie turned to you, a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. “Can I see her?”

The thought of him being anywhere near your baby appalled you. “What? N-No. No, you can't.”

He started to walk over to you, arms stretched out as if going in for a hug, a hug you certainly weren't accepting. “Let me see her for a minute.”

“No,” you repeated, with more finality than the first time. “You lost the right to do that whenever you walked out of here.”

He had the audacity to scoff. The noise grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, and suddenly you had the urge to punch him in his scruffy, age-ridden face. “Is that what she's been telling you?”

Scratch that. You had the urge to rip off his scruffy, age-ridden face.

“Who are you kidding, Lonnie?” Disgust coated every word of Joyce's sentence. “Do you really think-”

“Shut up,” he simply said, and you could tell his command was bringing back all those old feelings of fear to your mother. Her eyes were going wide, she was taking a couple of fearful steps back. You hated it, and hated Lonnie even more for making her feel weak again. “I wanna hear what the kids have to say about this.”

Anger started to boil in your veins as you watched the way he was acting, standing there like he owned the place. The place that he left in the dust seven years ago. “First of all, do not talk to my mother—or any woman for that matter—that way.”

“Look at you.” His words were drawn out, poison coating every lengthy syllable. “Always thought you'd turn out like your brothers. Turns out you've got more balls than the two of them combined.”

Part of you wanted to argue, but the smarter part of you knew it was a waste of your breath. “Second of all, it doesn't matter what you think Mom's been telling us. We're not stupid.” And then, for a split second, the smarter part of you couldn't resist your vindictive part. “We have eyes, you know.”

“Well then,” Lonnie sneered, “what exactly did you see? Because from your dear old dad's point of view, it looked a whole lot like your mom trying to get some child support and her way.”

“Well, from your little girl's point of view,” venom dripped from your words like you were a vampire, “it looked a whole lot like you cheating on Mom behind her back.”

Joyce trembled, nearly falling over the couch as she attempted to sit on it. She knew he'd done it, it wasn't exactly something Lonnie did a good job of hiding. But knowing that her kids knew was like a knife to the gut—the one thing that proved her babies weren't quite babies anymore.

Lonnie scoffed, running a hand over his graying beard. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

For once that night, a small wave of silence passed over the room. It felt as though time slowed while you considered your response, like the universe's way of letting you know it wasn't too late to back down. But you'd been backing down for your whole life when it came to him, and it was time you put an end to that.

“If I don't know what I'm talking about,” you paused, sucking in a blood-curdlingly cold breath, “then why do I have to live with the mental image of you undressing some fucking teenager when I came home from school one day?”

You hadn't looked up from where your eyes had met the floor at some point, but you knew from the pin-drop silence that Lonnie was as white as a sheet and Joyce was about three seconds away from killing him with her bare hands.

“Get out.” In all your eighteen years of life, you'd never heard your mother speak with such poison in her tone.

“This is ridiculous-”

“Get. Out.” In an instant, she was up on her feet, directing—or rather, dragging—Lonnie toward the door. Still, his six feet of barely-there muscle was stronger than her five feet and three inches as he pushed past her and strided over to you.

It took everything in you not to punch him in the face once he reached you. “This is ridiculous,” he repeated, almost sounding genuine. “I don't care about that shit. I just wanna see my damn grandbaby.”

Hell hath no fury like a Byers woman scorned, because every ounce of anger that filled your mother was multiplied tenfold when Lonnie used that word to describe your baby. Your baby.

“Jonathan, take the baby, please.”

You could practically hear the crease forming between his eyebrows. “What-”

“Just take the baby,” you insisted. Without another word, he took the crying bundle from your arms and held her close to his chest. You could barely hear him cooing at her over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Murder had never seriously crossed your mind, but when you were looking at Lonnie fucking Byers, you felt like Jack the Ripper. Still, you had a baby to take care of, so you did the next best, acceptable, and extremely satisfying thing.

“Let's get one thing straight,” you spat, hands meeting Lonnie’s chest and shoving him toward the door. “Her name is Mandy,” one push, “Marie,” another push, “Maldonado,” a third, “Because she will never be anything,” a final push, “of yours.”

And with that, you were slamming and locking the door in his face, an unparalleled wave of relief washing over every molecule of your body. Seven years of being left behind by your sad excuse for a father had finally come to a head, and the feeling of the outcome felt like exhaling again after holding your breath for as long as you could remember.

Jonathan walked over with the baby, placing her in your arms. He looked as though he wanted to address the month-old elephant in the room but was too afraid. Hell hath no fury like a Byers woman scorned, and he knew it all too well.

Joyce, on the opposite hand, had no shame in addressing the situation. “Is that really what you're naming her?” A couple of tears pricked the woman's eyes as she placed a hand on your back.

You nodded your head, a couple of hormonal tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked down at the little girl in your arms. It was amazing, you thought, just how much she'd grown in the past four weeks. But now you knew what people felt like when they said, She'll always be my little girl. Because she would. Mandy would always be that tiny bundle you met on Valentine's Day.

“Yeah,” you answered, the word sounding a little wet as it excited your chapped lips. You were slowly starting to remember what self care was like, but apparently lip balm had been left off your mental list.

As much as he'd never admit to it, Will did want to be a part of the family bonding moment happening across the room from where he stood, previously trying to go undetected by his father. “I think it's beautiful.”

The oldest of your brothers nodded in agreement, eyes still glued to your mini-me. “Will’s right. It's a perfect name for her.”

Tears fell in thick droplets down your cheeks, love and comfort rushing through you as your family—your real family, not some stupid man who thought DNA was equal to family—surrounded you in a well deserved group hug.

“I think so too,” the words came out in a whisper. You wondered if those cerulean eyes were already seeing just how much love this little family had for someone so small. Leaving a kiss to the tip of her nose, you met the baby with soft eyes and an even softer tone. “Mandy Marie, you are more loved than you will ever know.”

[ Now, January of 1992 ]

Placing the porcelain cup down in front of your favorite customer at his favorite table, you smiled anxiously. “Here is that gingerbread latte,” you said, the words coming out slightly shaky. “I attempted to make a gingerbread man, but I don't think he came out quite right. I-If it's too ugly, I can-”

“Byers,” Steve said, the word deep and groggy, no doubt from a lack of sleep. You weren't sure if you admired his line of work or wanted to convince him to change to a career that allowed him a full eight hours’ rest. “He looks fine. Buttons are a little crooked but it's not like I'm not about to guzzle down this whole thing anyway.”

He was trying to kid with you, you could tell he was. But trying was the operative word, not actually spitting out his usual banter. His tone was sharper than normal, though you weren't sure if it was directed at you or just an unpleasant coincidence. Whatever the case, you decided then that you didn't like Steve in a bad mood, and you'd do whatever you could to get him out of it.

“Are you okay?” You looked around to make sure your boss wasn't looking before sliding into the booth across from him.

When he finally looked up at you, he looked… tired. Older. Weary. Words you didn't like having to describe him with. Dark circles had settled under honey eyes, but despite his exhausted look, he still made your insides flutter with one small second of eye contact. “I'll be fine. Just… family stuff.”

You let out a long breath, holding back a laugh. “Oh, believe me, I could tell you a million stories about my family.” This time, you did laugh, if for no other reason than an attempt to lighten the mood.

Steve simply pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing small circles by his eye. “It's just…” his voice trailed. You were left wondering if this man you didn't know outside the four walls of Brew and Me was about to reveal a deeper part of himself than what his favorite flavor of coffee was. “When I was born, my dad started a savings account for me to someday pay off my student loans. Now that I'm a semester out from getting my Practitioner's license, he's threatening to take the money back.”

“Huh,” you said simply. “You're a trust fund baby.”

His eyes narrowed on you sarcastically. “Is that really your main takeaway from all that?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you snickered. “It's just… You were a trust fund baby. Polos and knee high socks and country clubs and-”

“Y/N,” he stopped you, his tone nearly back to his normal, witty self.

Another snicker left you. “Okay, I'm sorry. I'll behave.” And after another silent moment, you whispered, “A trust fund baby.”

Ignoring your efforts to kid around, Steve continued on with his story, still furiously rubbing at that spot on his temple. “He's mad because I'm not following in his footsteps to become a lawyer. Hell, not even just his footsteps. My grandpa was a lawyer, my uncle is a lawyer, my cousin is a year away from taking the Bar exam. And then there's me.”

You swore you could see tears stinging behind those wire frames of his. “Surprisingly, I've been where you are. Wanting approval from your dad, just waiting and praying that something you do will finally be enough to get his blessing, so to speak.”

Something flickered across his face for a split second, something you couldn't quite identify.

“But that's when you have to ask yourself what it is that you want.” Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you wouldn't cry. Not here, not in front of him. “We are not our lineage. And we sure as hell aren't our parents.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment. Steve just sipped his latte, while you contemplated how much or how little to say about your paternal relationship. On one hand, it might've been useful for Steve to know he wasn't alone. On the other hand, if you said too much, you risked seeming insensitive—not to mention, there was the obvious: you weren't sure how many details Steve had earned from you just yet.

So, you went with what you told most everyone about your father. “My dad never cared about what was best for his kids. You don't have to let that be you too.”

You quickly scooted your way out of the booth, ready to get back to work so you could head home for the day as soon as possible. But just as you started to walk away, a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending sparks right through you. “Hey,” he said, his tone gripping you as hard as his hand. “When you said I have to ask myself what it is that I want, I already know the answers.”

A smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him, astonished at how he was just as tall as you were, even while he was sitting down. “Oh, yeah?”

Steve gave you a small nod, removing his hand from you to push up his glasses. “I want to help people. In the ER, in free clinics.”

Something warm and fuzzy tingled in your belly and up your spine as you listened to his answer. Then, a crease formed between your brows as you noticed something off. “You said answers. Meaning you want more than one thing. That's technically only one,” you observed. “What's the second?”

“You.” Steve's hand reached for yours again, and you gladly let him take it. A calloused finger traced nonsensical shapes along the back of your hand, and your previous sparks multiplied tenfold. “I want to be with you.”

You stayed silent, honestly unsure how to respond to his admission. After a moment, he chuckled, almost in disbelief, running a hand over his hair. “That's crazy, isn't it? I'm certifiably insane, aren't I?”

With a shake of your head, you realized just how crazy you were for him too. You felt like a teenager in love, wanting to go home and gush to your diary about this handsome nurse that had stumbled his way into your life. “If you're crazy, I'm crazy,” you said with a shrug. “Only problem is you haven't won the game yet.”

Steve rolled his eyes, though you could tell from his expression, they might as well have been heart-shaped. “Believe me, Byers, I'm gonna win. And you're gonna be sorry you didn't say yes the first time I asked.”

A smirk pulled at the corners of your lips, your arms crossing in front of your chest as you looked over this man you'd fallen head over heels for. “I look forward to it, Doc.”

As always, I am posting this much later than it was intended to be. In my defense though, at least I have a good explanation this time?

So about a month ago, I was injured at work. And it took a toll on me both physically and mentally. I didn't want to write at all for a while. So it took me a very long time to crank this chapter out. Because of the mental toll it took on me, nothing ever really felt good enough to post either. It wasn't coming out the way I originally intended and I didn't want to put it out on the internet at all lol. But I finally got it finished and to a place where I think I'm genuinely happy with it.

I will (fingers crossed) have the next chapter out much more quickly than this one lol! But I have a couple of one shot fics unrelated to this series that I was able to write that I think you guys will enjoy too!!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @insertcoolnameherethanks

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celestie0 · 3 months

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vote for the next jjk fanfic series [poll locked]

helloooo my lovelies!! i wanted to say thank you so much for the love on my series 'kickoff' so far :') it's only been a few days since i started uploading here on tumblr but i have received lovely comments and i'm so grateful. i have been having a lot of fun writing it but i thought it would be nice to have two series ongoing at once because i was experiencing some writer's block earlier this week, and it would be nice to switch between two works when inspiration doesn't strike for the other.

please read the three ideas i have below & if you feel so inclined, drop a vote for which one you'd like to see next! i'll probably end up writing all three at some point since i love all the ideas so much, but thought it would be fun to involve my followers for which one to start right away. i'm more of a series writer than a one-shot writer, so all of these would end up being multi-part stories with eventual/recurring smut.

➸ series #1: rock band guitarist! gojo x reader x record label owner! geto | love triangle, angst, fluff, smut (18+)

synopsis: gojo and you were lovers in college when him and his rock band were nobodies with nothing but a dream, but eventually they strike a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo and the two of you have to make the tough decision to break up since you still had two years of school left and you couldn't go with him to the city. flash forward four years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world and you move to tokyo to pursue your writing career. you spark up a romance with a rather mysterious & reserved man named geto, unaware of just how much invisible string connects the three of you. loooooots of angst, jealousy, messy decisions, y'know all the good stuff that comes with a love triangle. alexa play "the one that got away" by katy perry. inspired by the anime 'nana' & movie 'past lives'!

➸ series #2: police chief/dilf! toji x reader | forced proximity, fluff, angst, smut (18+)

synopsis: smalltown romance where you move from the city to the countryside after breaking off your engagement with your toxic ex-fiancé. your move doesn't go too smoothly since you're arrested by quite possibly the hottest man you've ever seen in your life practically the second you step foot in town, but you end up working out a deal with him where you agree to babysit his 3-year-old son megumi while he's working his crazy police hours, and in exchange you get to live in the small cottage on his property rent-free. sort of enemies to lovers because reader thinks he's an arrogant asshole most of the time, fluffy stuff w baby megumi <3, forced proximity, toji doing hot dad stuff, you know the drill. inspired by the knockemout book series by lucy score!

➸ series #3: prosecutor! nanami x reader | enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut (18+)

synopsis: you're on your way to achieving your life dream of becoming a doctor, in your final year of medical school, about to make your entire family proud when you suddenly find yourself behind bars after being framed for the murder of your ex-boyfriend. unfortunately, the city's harshest prosecutor, nanami kento, has been assigned to your case and the fate of the rest of your life now falls in the palm of his hand. some murder mystery stuff, intense criminal interrogations, lots of nanami absolutely despising you because he thinks you're a murderer but then wanting nothing more than to protect you when he discovers that you're not. and yes there will be smut despite the premise haha, but that's all i'll say without spoiling anything. heavily inspired by the kdrama 'suspicious partner'!

thank you so much for voting if you do decide to vote, and i'm soooo looking forward to starting one of these series!

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beccibarnes · 4 months

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"Barely counts as a miracle" - Good Omens Fanfiction

gif by @rainbowcrowley ❤

Fandom: Good Omens

Relationship: Crowley / Aziraphale

Summary: 1793, Paris.

When Aziraphale set off for France he had a detailed plan in mind. Getting himself captured was only phase one, leading up to the much more enticing and long-awaited phase two. Unfortunately, he struggles to clue Crowley in on this plan. After living through many awkward attempts and a demeaning dance, Aziraphale has to resort to more desperate measures.

Or: Aziraphale plays the Damsel in Distress and eventually gets Crowley to punish him properly.

Words: 7,734

Rating: Explicit

Status: Finished (Part 4/14 of a series)

Warnings: No Warnings

Tags:

Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Aziraphale Has a Penis, Crowley Has a Penis, Sexual Content, Smut, Wall Sex, Anal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Semi-Public Sex, fucking while pining, Pining while fucking, Missing Scene, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Canon Compliant, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages, Bottom Aziraphale, Top Crowley, POV Aziraphale, Aziraphale is a Mess, Aziraphale Loves Crowley, Awkward Conversations, undercommunication, Scene: Paris 1793, Historical References, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots, Stopping Time, This is not the Bastille, Undercommunicated Groping but Crowley doesn't mind, Aziraphale is a clumsy seducer, Damsels in Distress, Aziraphale is a Damsel in Distress, Apology dance, Clothed Sex

Click here to read on AO3

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 1793 #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #smut #good omens smut #idiots in love #ineffable idiots #fanfiction series #not a one-night stand #14 times they canonically fucked #becci writes

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soundbluster · 1 year

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Shattered Glass Prime,

Volume 3, Part 80 and 81

Aaand I'm back to working on the main series for a while!

Featured Characters: Rafael (writing), Ravage, Soundwave, Miko, Jack, Airachnid, Breakdown, Megatron, Starscream, Wheeljack, Airachnid, Prowl, Knockout

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creelmalfoylaufeyson69 · 4 months

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Beautiful the way you are *part two*

Warnings: smut (reader has a vagina) angst

Tags for series: @jaziona92

Y/n sat at the passenger seat, and sighs. “I’m gonna set Gabriel on fire one day” they said as they lowered the passenger seat now. “And I’ll be front row to watch you set him on fire” Crowley says as he takes his glasses off now

“He’s called me half an angel before as well… but he’s right, you know? I am half an angel” they say as tears start to leave their eyes. Crowley looks at them with concern written all over his face. “You’re still an angel to me dear” they smiled a bit as they wiped their tears away

“Thanks Crow” he smiles as he finds himself on top of them soon. They blushed madly once he was on top of them comfortably. “We’re in your Bentley, Crowley” he quirked up his brow, and asked them when that’s ever stopped the two in the past

Y/n blushes at the memories as the two were now naked. “So fucking stunning” he praises as he sticks a finger into their pussy. Their head arches back as he begins to rub them. “Crowley” they moaned out, which makes him smirk

He continues to rub them until they came on his finger. Crowley takes his finger out of them, and then licks the cum off of his finger. The cum then vanished, and now he lines up his cock with their pussy

He then slams into them, causing cries of pleasure to leave their mouth without hesitation. Their hands went onto his back without them thinking about. Their head continued to be arched back as he now begins to thrust

“Most beautiful angel out there” he says and then lets out a moan. “Yeah?” A knock on the Bentley’s door could be heard by Crowley and Y/n, but the two didn’t feel like answering the knock. “Yeah” he says in a husky voice as it was met with another knock

Crowley groans as he stops now. He gets out of them as they remove their hands from his back now. The clothes that had vanished off of the two were now back on; Crowley peeks up to see Gabriel

He groans again. “It’s Gabriel” Crowley said, which makes them annoyed. - “That’s not how that happened at all. Why on Earth would god lie to you about what happened to Y/n?” Aziraphale asked Gabriel

“I don’t know. It also sounds like it was only me he lied about the whole Y/n situation with. I’m not quite sure why though” Aziraphale thinks now as Gabriel thinks about all the shitty stuff he had said to Y/n

He was becoming more understanding on certain situations since he was with Beelzebub now. Gabriel stood in front of Y/n in heaven. This was after they had changed, so of course not many angels In heaven were gonna be too polite to them

“You don’t look different” he starts, which makes them sigh. Y/n shows him their wings, which makes him freaked out. “You’re hideous!” He says right away, which makes them frown. “But I’m still the angel you’ve worked with for so many decades Gabriel! I’m still me”

“Umm… no you’re not. You’re a monster! You’re even half an Angel” Y/n’s eyes widened at that as tears started to leave them now. “I bet Crowley is having a better time in hell since he doesn’t have to see this creature”

“I really need to apologize to Y/n” Gabriel said, which makes Aziraphale smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea! I believe Crowley’s Bentley is still outside. You should go talk to them now” Gabriel nods his head, and then walks out of the bookshop

“Why would Gabriel want to bother us when he’s constantly bothering us?” They asked him, which makes him shrug his shoulders. “Y/n, I need to talk to you” Gabriel says, which makes them appear outside of the Bentley. “I’m in the middle of something right now Gabriel” they said in annoyed tone

Crowley sits up to watch the conversation. Gabriel looks at Crowley, and then back to them. Their arms were wrapped around their chest as they waited for him to respond. “I can see that, and I could hear it too. But I really need to talk to you”

“About what?!? You don’t respect me, so why should I have the time to respect you?!“ Fire starts to spread around the two. “Oh shit” Crowley says as he grabs his glasses quickly, and was quick to get out of his car

“Maybe you’re not even an Angel Gabriel. Maybe you’re some sick demon!” They shouted as Crowley now stood out of his Bentley. Crowley’s heart broke at that, and now he felt angry. “Some sick demon, huh?” They turned to look at Crowley now

They felt their heart sink to their stomach as they saw how hurt he looked. “Crowley… i didn’t mean it…” they said as they began to shake now. Y/n was now on the verge of a panic attack. Their whole world was quickly shattering around them

“You definitely sounded like you meant it” Crowley walks off now without looking back at them. They felt numb, and even more angry at Gabriel. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!” Y/n shouts as they looked back at Gabriel

“You’re right, and I’m very sorry for ruining your relationship with Crowley. I’ve been very selfish, and god even lied to me about what happened to you. God shouldn’t have done” he says, which makes them confused on how to feel now. They obviously were gonna take a while to accept his apology, but they needed to run after Crowley now

Y/n just runs off after Crowley without saying anything else. “Good luck Y/n” Gabriel says as he vanishes now

Part three

#good omens crowley x reader #fanfiction series #part two #david tennet #good omens fanfiction #good omens 2

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nspwriteups · 11 months

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An Oath of Feelings - Final part

pic credit: @reeeereeeereeereee

Arulmozhi made his way through the long corridor. He swore he saw Vanathi just a minute ago , her jasmine-decorated long hair fluttering in the soft breeze, her voice echoing as she laughed at a joke of one of her Sakhis. Goodness! when did he became attuned to her so much? Now he understood what his Anna was saying about love- it was sweeter than honey, addicting than any intoxicant in the world and it strengthens one's resolve, not weaken it. He thought of all this while he stood in the empty corridor, wondering how his Anna was able to survive all those years not able to see Nandini when he himself was feeling morose after not seeing the stealer of his heart for a day. Maybe he should talk with Vanthiyathevan? No, he dismissed that line of thought immediately. There was no limit to how much Kundavai teased him after the incident the other night about his brave-but-utterly reckless attempt at window jumping. And how dare Vanthiyathevan join in when he was the one who suggested the idea in the first place? No, he isn't going anywhere near those two. He will prove his love on his own. Thus deciding, he retraced his steps back to his chambers.

Once his footsteps started to fade away, Vanathi came out of her hiding place behind the pillar and gazed at the retreating figure. Maybe she was taking this a bit far? Should she talk to him? But what result would that give? He may say something sweet and she will fall for it and then he would go back to ignoring her again. What she wished, what she craved was for him to show his feelings for her, feelings that her Akka claim exists. Many a time she has seen Vanthiyathevan kissing the back of Kundavai's hand or whispering in her ear or simply gazing at her when she was preoccupied by some other task. He was indifferent to the fact that they were other people watching or making remarks about them. How many times has she imagined her Yaanai pagan gazing at her so, of him whispering sweet nothings in her ear or him standing close to her in public so that everyone will know they belong to and with each other. She wondered if all these fantasies will come true or remain the same. Her train of thoughts was broken by one of her Sakhis.

"Vanathi, why didn't you tell us you were playing hide-and-seek with Ponniyin Selvan?" her sakhi taunted her.

"Oh be quiet!" Vanathi whispered in annoyance before walking off.

--------------------------------------------

Vanathi has never really been jealous of her Kundavai Akka, in fact she greatly admired her Uyir Thozi's intelligence and courage. But at this moment, when she was sitting with her in her chamber, preparing for the evening aarti, she realised she was envious of Kundavai - not of her reasoning and understanding but of her success at a fruitful relationship. Ever since they had been acquainted with a certain Vana clan prince, she had seen a budding affection forming between the two. She didn't exactly knew when it became solidified but once she heard him call her Akka an 'Apsaras' and saw Kundavai's face turn as red as kumkum and she knew - this was not a mere flirting. She heard a genuineness in his voice, the same genuineness she heard when he earlier declared " Uyir ungalodayathu Devi". She thought of all this when she kept glancing at Kundavai, who was humming while arranging the Pooja thali. Just then a servant came in " Ilaiya Piratti, Vallavaraiyan Vanthiyathevan is seeking permission to enter" .

"Let him in " Kundavai said excitedly

"Speak of the devil and the devil is here" mused Vanathi. She was quite fond of the Vana Kula Prince and already considered him as a brother but she was still disappointed that he didn't attempt to give some good advice to Ponniyin Selvan despite their close friendship.

Vanthiyathevan came in " How are you this evening, ladies?" He asked . His sense of formality was often times confusing. In public, he resorted to formal titles such as 'Ilaiya Piratti' and 'Kodumbalur Ilavarasi ' but in private he called her as 'Devi' or even 'Maya Kannan' while he reserved the sweetest of nicknames for his lady love.

"Vanthiyar, do you have any news for us?" Kundavai asked

"Devi, things are as you know. Sendhan Amudhan will reach Thanjai in 2 days time" Vanthiyathevan replied

Vanathi was confused. What? Sendhan Amudhan is coming? But why? Suddenly she remembered Arulmozhi's oath of bestowing the crown. Surely he didn't say it seriously? Surely he only said it to spite her?

"And Samudrakumari will also be joining him. They decided to have the wedding ceremony the day after they arrive. So much preparations yet to be made" Vanathi heard Vanthiyathevan continuing his narration and Kundavai nodding along. Marriage? What marriage? She realised she said this thought aloud as both faces turned towards her.

" Yes, Maya Kanna. Perhaps you missed out on the news. Ilavarase wasn't joking when he said he wished to hand over the crown to Sendhan Amudhan. He presented the matter with the emperor and he too agreed that this was a rightful decision"

"And what about Samudrakumari?"

"Ah that. Amudhan has always loved Poonguzhali and although she was reluctant at first, as she doubted the genuineness of his feelings she later returned his feelings and has now accepted his hand in marriage. I am not bragging but I may have had a hand in uniting the couple." Vanthiyathevan said with a smirk and earned a pinch in the arm from Kundavai for 'going off topic'.

Vanathi was already in her world of overthinking. So, Ponniyin Selvan wasn't in love with Poonguzhali? Then why did he admit having that conversation with Kundavai Akka? Was there any existent feelings for her in his mind as Kundavai Akka claimed? Now she decided she have to talk to him. At least before she leaves for Kodumbalur. With these thoughts in mind, she stood up.

"Kanne, where are you going?" Kundavai asked

"Akka, I'm just going to meet someone. I'll be right back" Vanathi hoped she was being discreet enough but Kundavai managed to see through it.

"No, you can meet anyone you want after the pooja. Now go, time is ticking "

"Yes Akka" Vanthiyathevan and Kundavai watched a disheartened Vanathi leaving the chamber.

"Ennavale, as much as I like your idea I'm afraid it is lacking action" Vanthiyathevan turned to his lover with a mischievous smile.

"I know my plan doesn't involve tree-climbing or window-jumping like you'd wish but it is effective. It's exactly like you said - they want to come closer. We are just giving them the necessary push" Kundavai said calmly.

---------------------------------------

Vanathi was hyper-focused on her aarti plate as she, along with Kundavai's other companions, made their way back from the temple. All through the Pooja, she prayed for happiness for all and a ray of clarity on her otherwise chaotic life. She was wondering when she would get the answers to all her questions (even Kundavai Akka was not with her, making some excuse after the Pooja that she didn't even pay attention to) .

"Vanathi, are you done playing hide and seek with Ponniyin Selvan?" One of Kundavai's companion started her teasing.

"Aren't you leaving for Kodumbalur anyway? Don't worry , I don't think Ponniyin Selvan would come to find you since all of us would be here to take care of him" another companion chimed in

They had reached the gardens when Vanathi decided to retaliate.

" What is all this talk? Keep your Ponniyin Selvan with you. He wasn't mine in the first place" She said, with her back to them, determined not to show them the sadness in her face.

"I beg to differ Devi"

All of them turned towards the source of the voice and found the object of their conversation standing in front of them.

"You are exceptionally good at hiding Ilavarasi" Arulmozhi said with a triumphant smile, " But now, since I have found you may I have a word with you"

He led her a safe distance away, so that her companions can only watch them and not eavesdrop on them.

" Akka told me I can find you here"

"I wanted to talk to you, Ponniyin Selvare about Poonguzhali..."

He sighed and said " I don't blame you for misunderstanding Vanathi. It is true that once I had a conversation with Akka about my then feelings for Poonguzhali but then I also asked you whether you would believe me if I said my feelings have changed over the months... Because that is what happened"

"What do you mean?"

"I was always under the impression that what you sought after was the throne and Poonguzhali always thought Amudhan's feelings will fade away someday. Then, Vanthiyathevan once asked if we have ever got to know you both as a person and to that we were answerless. So we decided to get to know you both better before making a final decision, just so we wouldn't feel guilty afterwards. Little did we knew fate had other plans"

Vanathi stared at him wondering about the direction of his narration. " In the few months that I got to know you I learned to appreciate your presence and adore your personality which made me confused because I was unfamiliar to this sensation"

"what sensation, Aiyya?"

"I understood you were insecure of the prospective marriage to me, and I wanted to erase that insecurity. I couldn't understand that feeling so I stayed in denial for weeks"

He looked at her then "I met with Poonguzhali again and she admitted she also started to develop an affection for Amudhan's sincerity. We still cared and respected each other but the feelings we began to develop for you two felt..stronger. Finally it was Vanthiyathevan who advised us to follow our heart and that's what we did"

"So you like me?" Vanathi asked. She was hoping this wouldn't be any of her usual dream. Her Yaanai Pagan was actually declaring what she wanted to hear all this time. "Better than that" Arulmozhi said, gazing lovingly at her " Nan unnai katalikkiren"

Saying this, he reached out and touched her hand. The sudden movement caused Vanathi to lose balance and the aarti plate to tumble down.

"Oh Lord, she has dropped the aarti plate. How inauspicious!" One of the onlookers commented.

"No, look closely I think the wick is still burning, so it's not inauspicious " another replied.

Vanathi felt Arulmozhi's hand circle her waist and pull her close to his chest. She gasped and put both her arms round his neck.

"Don't faint on me again Vanathi" He said almost breathlessly, "You made me so worried the last time"

"Ponniyin Selvare, what are you doing? Everyone is watching" Vanathi said, blushing but making no attempt in getting out his hold.

" Let them watch" Arulmozhi said with a grin, quickly glancing at the group of girls standing at a distance away, looking awe-struck.

"If you still wish to go to Kodumbalur, then let me come with you. Not as Ilavarase Arulmozhi Varman but as your varunkala kanavan. I respect your oath and proud of your determination" he continued and smiled wholeheartedly when Vanathi nodded. " I finally understood what Vanthiyathevan said . Sometimes love can be shown better through actions"

"What do you mean?" Vanathi cocked her head to the side and looked at him with confusion.

Arulmozhi simply gave her a smirk and tightened his arms around her, lifting her up and twirling her. Her squealing mixed with his laughter and the loud gasps from the onlookers. Well,not all onlookers. Kundavai and Vanthiyathevan watched the happy couple from the balcony.

"Who knew my Thambi was such a romantic?" Kundavai remarked with a short laugh

" Why Devi? Do you me to twirl you like that? " Vanthiyathevan asked with a wide grin and Kundavai smacked him in the arm.

"Noo" She said playfully "maybe another time?" She smiled sheepishly when Vanthiyathevan raised his eyebrows.

The End

A/N: Me dropping a long af fic once in a while. You can clearly see how much I was influenced by the Veera Raja Veera full video song...come, let's rant in the comment section

@ramcharanobsessed @dumdaradumdaradum @vibishalakshman @thatacademic @hollogramhallucination @kovaipaavai @rang-lo . @willkatfanfromasia @thelekhikawrites @thegleamingmoon @deafeningflowercat @yehsahihai @whippersnappersbookworm @itsfookingloosah @gemsmusings @chiyaanvikram @elvenladysakura . @matka-kulfi . @madatdisney @bumblebeeskywalker @vahnithedreamer @nkarti @dosai-maavu @utterlynotperfect @winter-birds @happy-bookworm @tumbledout @anabanana4115 @freeunknownwasteland @bhataktiatmacore @rapunzels-stuff @celestesinsight @mairablue @rationalelderberry @existenceiswhateven @arachneofthoughts

#ponniyin selvan #ponniyin selvan 2 #vanathi #arulmozhi #kundavai #vanthiyathevan #aditha karikalan #arulmozhi varman #nandini #vandiyadevan #vanmozhi #ps fanfiction #poniyin selvan fandom #fanfiction series

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hinatastinygiant · 9 months

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Pairing: Shota Aizawa x Fem!Reader

In which a pro hero finds herself caught in an elaborate web of deception when her agency strikes a business deal with another, involving a fake engagement with the famous Pro Hero Aizawa. As they navigate the world of pretense, the lines between charades and genuine emotions blur, leading to unexpected feelings and connections. Together, they must balance the facade of a relationship with their true selves, facing challenges, media scrutiny, and inner turmoil while discovering that love can grow in the most unexpected ways.

Warnings: Language Warning! NSFW (18+) Sexual Content

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7(nsfw), 8, 9, 10. THE END

I DO NOT OWN MY HERO ACADEMIA OR ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE OC’s.

(Updated August 13, 11:00am est)

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XXIII.

GIF: Originally posted by @simply---words

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, hand play, penetrative sex (AFAB+AMAB).

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello there! Smut part 2 is here! I apologise for the delay with this chapter. It took a long time to pull all the threads together and get the dialogue right. Hope you are safe and well. All my love, Saskia ❤️

Sandman Masterlist

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“Right now I need to be inside you.”

Morpheus’ desperate words see another spark burst forth into flame within your core.

There is no point in arguing with him. You can tell from the obstinate set of his shoulders as he gazes up at you from his still-kneeling position.

You push yourself back so your entire length rests on the pale blue sheets.

“Lie with me.” You pat the space next to you and roll onto your side.

Once Morpheus is situated beside you, you watch each other, kissing every so often. After a period, the aftershocks of your recent orgasm burn out and you feel prepared to take things further.

You inhale a deep breath, knowing that what you want to say next is important but uncertain of how to phrase it.

“I'm not exactly sure of how reproduction works among Endless beings... however I wanted you to know that I’m taking a contraceptive pill,” you clarify while fruitlessly attempting to smooth a crease out of the sheet.

He kisses you sweetly. “Thank you for your openness.”

You lay on your back and Morpheus carefully straddles you.

He’s so delightfully accessible to you now. The angles of his collarbones are demanding to be touched so you do it. You start there, with both hands in the centre, spreading out across his chest, over his upper arms, round to his back and up into his hair. His muscles contract as you trace the path.

You change instrument, swapping from hands to lips, and press kisses to his exposed neck. It sends him into a feverous delirium; his pupils are dilated so far that they almost eclipse the blue.

He guides your hand to his erection. He is already hard yet he stiffens even further when you begin to pleasure him.

His eyes roll back with a low groan. You gush at the sound.

Dark lashes cast pretty shadows onto his cheekbones in the light of the lamp. With your free hand, you cup his face then slide your fingers through the shorter hair above his nape.

You stroke his shaft evenly for a while before tightening the hold you have on him by a fraction. He tenses, speaking your name in a forewarning and you release him before you get too carried away.

The liquid lust in his eyes when he looks back to you is overwhelming. You open your legs.

“You are ready?” He asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, heartbeat picking up. “Are you?”

“I am.”

He adjusts your position ever so slightly. His weight sinks down and you feel his tip at your entrance. You become rigid, nerves returning full force.

“I will be gentle with you, Y/N, I promise,” he pledges.

You nod. "I trust you."

He strokes your face with his fingertips. “As I trust you.”

The mutual exchange of those candidly spoken words gives you proof that the connection you are cultivating together is pure and honest and authentic. Exactly as you want it to be.

Morpheus waits until you are completely relaxed before resuming. His eyes are trained on your face, looking for any sign of discomfort but also to see your reaction.

You are doing the same. Despite your suppression and denial of your attraction and feelings, both of you genuinely had wanted this for some time now.

And because of that, you need to remember every second.

You secure your hands on his shoulders.

He eases into you slowly, stretching you further than you had been in the past, inspiring a long moan that harmonises with his own.

“Morpheus,” you call as he continues to push in.

You are panting. The sensation of being opened up has your eyelids fluttering.

“Keep looking at me,” he whispers.

You do as he says and re-focus on his familiar, perfect face.

He bottoms out with a breathy gasp.

As your walls flutter, he holds still to give you time to adjust.

He feels so very large and so very right.

The expression on his face is one of unadulterated astonishment. “You feel…” He groans, “You are…”

For the first time since knowing him, he is unable to finish his sentence. You have rendered the King of Dreams almost speechless.

You reach up to stroke his jaw line. “Please.”

He understands and moves ever so slightly. You overload from pleasure, burying your face in his neck and inhaling deeply to compose yourself with his scent.

You feel his large hand on the back of your head.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats a few times. His voice calms you quickly and keeps your arousal throbbing.

With your heart rate stabilised, you look back at Morpheus and smile.

“I’m okay now. Keep going.”

He smiles back, and lowers onto his forearms. You are more prepared for the movement this time; the pleasure is still visceral but you soak every bit of it in.

You instantly want more.

His first thrust is shallow, as is the second, and after the third, he begins to deepen in increments. When you begin to move with him, bliss lights his countenance.

He is taking his time to satisfy you and it is so unlike any of the sexual encounters you have had before. He is savouring the moment, savouring you. It makes you feel undeniably special. He wants to share his very being with you as you do with him.

It adds another tie of emotional attachment to him. You trace his cheekbones with adoration.

Morpheus stops suddenly. He draws almost all the way out.

Your mouth drops open. You want to complain, to tilt your hips up and maintain the friction but you don’t. There’s a look on his face that stops you. A look that has you combusting.

You watch him with baited breath. The urge to squirm and whine is immense.

He slams back into you.

The grunt he makes as he does so is salacious. You cry out and grab his shoulders.

He repeats the action.

You hold tighter still.

His lips claim your own in a searing kiss.

He then sets a rhythm that you know will send you over the edge if he maintains it. And he does. He takes you hard and deep until everything you know is him. Him alone.

The roll of his hips casts a hypnotic spell over you.

You wrap your legs around him. He hums in approval at the deeper angle you have offered.

"Morpheus," you moan loudly as he takes you into a realm of pleasure that you had not been permitted to enter before.

The devotion in his eyes intensifies with every pump.

You feel your channel contracting as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Let go for me,” he urges in a dangerously seductive tone.

His hand finds yours and he laces his fingers between your own. Such care is shown in that simple act; in his ocean blue eyes. You focus on them as the tension in your core threatens to snap.

“Let go, Y/N.”

You arch up, walls clamping around him.

You are silent as the orgasm bursts forth and then all you can say is his name as the euphoria blinds you.

As soon as you speak, he spills himself inside you.

Pleasurable agony is drawn on his beautiful features. He continues to move until he runs dry. Your trembling legs sink down onto the mattress.

Then Morpheus withdraws and descends the last few centimetres to be flush against your glowing skin.

The only movement either of you make are the rises and falls of your chests and involuntary twitches created by your orgasms.

You remain contentedly pressed together until your spent bodies recover, consumed by joy and serenity.

***

You and Morpheus take it in turns to clean up in your bathroom. He lets you go first; your body feels painfully cold without him and you have to take refuge under the duvet upon re-entering the room.

Pink warmth blushes your cheeks when he comes back and you don’t try to hide it. What a difference it makes to feel able to show your desires now.

Morpheus pauses, eyes flickering to the vacant side of the bed. You pull a corner back and beckon for him to join you.

“You are sure?” He asks, respecting your personal space.

“Hold me, please.”

He slips between the sheets. His dark locks fall into a halo on the pillow. He draws you against his side and tucks your head under his chin. You nuzzle into his strong chest and sigh.

"You were right when you said you were experienced," You murmur after a few minutes.

He huffs out a little laugh. "Does that mean that you enjoyed yourself?"

"Of course I did. It was -"

Life changing. Mind altering. Soul defining.

They were all viable ways to end your sentence.

"It was the best I've ever had," you eventually say.

His fingers trace precise patterns on your upper back.

"I have longed to be with you like that for some time. Since the day that you kissed me on top of that hill.”

“That long?”

“Yes,” he replies solemnly.

“I hope I lived up to your expectations.”

“You exceeded them.”

You blink. “Really?”

“Your touch is something to be coveted, and you react so perfectly to me. You are considerate of my boundaries. You understand the emotional weight of sexual contact. I could not wish for more.”

He shifts to be able to look into your eyes.

"I apologise for the way I reacted when I got undressed. I did not mean to cause you any concern. I am grateful for how you sought to console me.”

“You don't have to say sorry for anything, Morpheus.”

“Perhaps not but I feel I should elucidate.”

He sits up and you follow.

“Something happened to me. I was certain that I had overcome it yet I couldn’t stop myself from drawing a parallel to what had transpired.”

His gaze fixes on the light source.

“There was a human. An occultist named Roderick Burgess. Burgess was dangerous and obsessive and after the death of his son, he attempted a spell to imprison my sister, Death, hoping that she would bring him back from the Sunless lands. But instead he got me. What he wanted was not mine to give but Burgess never backed down. I had no means of escape; the binding circle drained my power, and he took my tools. The effect on humanity’s subconscious was devastating without me to curate and manage it. Certain dreams and nightmares went rogue, some preying on the waking world.”

His pauses and his voice cracks when he speaks again. “My raven, Jessamy, tried to help me. Burgess’ other son murdered her right before my eyes. I stayed in that basement for 106 years, completely naked, locked in a glass cage as I grieved the loss of my friend and my reason for existing.”

You feel a tear escape and streak down your cheek. Naked. It made sense in the most heartbreaking way. He had been right back in there in his memories remembering his agony and isolation. You know without a doubt that the trauma Matthew had mentioned when he had come to visit you in the cottage was the same. Morpheus had watched a loved one die. How could it be anything else?

You suppress a sob. “What happened when you got out?”

“I took my revenge on Alex Burgess. For Jessamy. For not letting me go when his father had died, and then I went back to the Dreaming. When I returned, I found it had wasted away, as I had done in that cage, decayed beyond recognition.”

“But you re-built it?”

“Yes. With the help of my tools once I had reclaimed them. It took time, and self-reflection and allowing myself to trust others but eventually everything was set right.”

Morpheus goes quiet. You take his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Morpheus. I’m sorry about Jessamy. I’m sorry that you suffered for so long. I’m sorry for the cruelty of humans. I will always be here if you need to talk about it, about anything.” You are crying as you speak.

He buries his face against your neck. “Not all humans are cruel, Y/N. You are one such example. The offer you just made is proof, and I give the same to you. You will always have a shelter with me.”

-----------------

"We don't need to know. All we have is now, so just let go. When your number's called and it's time to disappear. Have no fear cause you got me and I got you. Right here."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponysboy-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear @sandman-33 @sallysal9 @asiludida164 @elf-punk @grungeisntmything @sapphireonline @seninjakitey

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tavyliasin · 12 days

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The Scent of Cinnamon Masterlist

Links to the Raphael and Haarlep Prequel fanfic series The Scent Of Cinnamon.

About the Fic

A prequel to the events of Baldur's Gate 3, exploring the relationship between Raphael and Haarlep from the moment they first meet and following through several key events in their long and storied history together as both seek their own goals and find how they connect between them.

There will be a lot of smut in the works, as well as a fair amount of angst and character exploration. I aim to keep clear tagging of each individual chapter as the content will vary and I would rather allow people a choice to skip parts of the story if there are tags they dislike, or to easily bookmark and return to tags that they adore~

There is no set schedule due to life factors and multiple ongoing series that I switch between, but comments and interactions do help to inspire work on it.

Notes: Haarlep will always be referred to with they/them pronouns in this piece and will utilise shapeshifting. The story is built from the scraps of lore we see in the game alongside my own interpretations of both characters and the potential depths lurking behind them.

My headcanons are entirely my own and I completely respect (and truthfully also adore) other interpretations of the characters and story. Please feel free to contact me to discuss the story and characters or anything else about the work, and I welcome Beta readers who are willing to give feedback and corrections to improve the work both before and after publishing (sometimes mistakes slip through the net, so please let me know to fix things here if needed)

Chapter Links Below The Cut

Series Playlist

Each chapter has a song assigned that has lyrics and/or a mood that matches the tone and story in that chapter. The main post will also contain a cut of the lyrics that I feel best match what I'm expressing with the song choice. They're all very optional! But I'll put the Spotify list here for anyone who is interested in it.

The Cambion, The Gift, and The Contract

Raphael has a new home, but the halls are remarkably empty. Mephistopheles has seen fit to send him a gift, though as with all things in the Hells, nothing is ever quite so simple... Meanwhile, an incubus with no name stands in front of a portal, ready to take the first step in the only plan they have left. One that will either secure their future or seal their fate... 4,301 Words

Summary: Raphael and the incubus meet for the first time, and the specifics of a contract are worked out between the pair. Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Mild power play. There's not a lot of spice in this one, it's the following chapters that will raise that bar~

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The Scent of Cinnamon 2 - The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

With the talking over, it is time for the deal to be sealed. However, Haarlep is not willing to relinquish their physical form so quickly, nor are they in any rush to finalise the contract with Raphael without enjoying it first. 4,965 Words

Summary: Haarlep draws out the first kiss into far more devious uses of their own lips as well as Raphael's. They will ensure he doesn't forget a single thing about them. The sound of their voice, the feel of their touch, the taste of their- Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 3.5/5 Content Warnings: Oral Sex, Shapshifting, Power Play, Mild Choking, BDSM, Aphrodisiacs, Incubus Kiss, Mild Blood, Mild Humiliation/Name Calling

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The Deal, The Devil, and The Promise Beyond

The deal is finalised as Raphael and Haarlep continue their night together, sealing the contract with sex that will quite literally be life changing for both but not in the hyperbolic manner most would assume from the thought. For Haarlep, they take on the identity they have been given, sacrificing their physical form to take the shape of the man who owns them. For Raphael, he has fully accepted an incubus spy into his House and his bed, and despite his best laid plans he has not fully realised the consequences of the terms of that deal. 4,708 Words

Summary: Haarlep reaches the conclusion of the deal, but is in no rush to end the encounter before both of them are fully satisfied. The night, just like their body, must be unforgettable... Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings: Power Play, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiac, Mild Praise Kink, Porn with Plot, Mild Pain Play

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The Morning, The Tailor, and The Fit of the Glove

Raphael wakes up to the consequences of the deal he made the night before, and realises Haarlep has no clothes to wear save for his own which are somehow a poor fit on his copied body. A trip to Waterdeep sparks more conflict as the two fiends begin to find their places with each other, pushing each others boundaries. Haarlep also has to reckon with the consequences of their end of the bargain, with shadows of their past biting at their heels. 5,139 Words

Summary: The pair head out to Waterdeep to a tailor who can make something for Haarlep to wear other than Raphael's old clothes that feel like a poor fit on the incubus' borrowed body. Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Mild Power Play, Mild Angst, ---

The Night, The Incubus, and The Empty Bed

Raphael has left Haarlep to the Boudoir, settling to go over some contracts. The incubus, on the other had, is restless, unused to their new shape... 4,893 Words

Summary: Haarlep takes the time to get to know their new body, much to Raphael's frustration... Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 2/5 Content Warnings: Mild Power Play, Mild Angst, mild emotional hurt/comfort, Mild Use of Safe Word, Masturbation, Edging, Teasing, Massage, Maybe DubCon if you really squint at it.

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Scent of Cinnamon 6 - The Command, The Deal, And The Touch of Serendipity

Continuing directly from the last installment in this series, Raphael has agreed that it might be easier to get used to feeling Haarlep's effect on his body if he watches and instructs them on what to do. A simple task, or so he thought before he realises now that he has to actually decide what he wants. Meanwhile, the incubus is more than happy to tease their new master with the illusion of control.

3,928 Words

Summary: Raphael instructs Haarlep on exactly how to touch his...their body, while he watches Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 3.5/5 Content Warnings: Mild Power Play, Mild Angst, Masturbation, mild alcohol mention, implied sounding (but no actual sounding), Aphrodisiacs (with consent)

---

More to follow!

BONUS - SFW(ish) EDITS!

I'm editing this fic to remove the smut, making it...not SFW but a lot closer. It's coming out as a little fun, and a little silly as all sexual references are replaced with hugs or snacks~

For now I only have the first chapter on here because it takes time to copy out of my docs, but I'll swap this link for the masterlist link once I have one!

#FanFiction Series #the scent of cinnamon #baldurs gate 3 #haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #fanfic #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #prequel #prequel fic

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makoredeyes · 6 days

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It’s been six months and the series is still going so I thought I’d throw this back out into the wild today! Earlier entries in the series are more stand-alone but the further on you get the more interconnected they are, so for folks just arriving and seeing my update posts, if you’re lost, this is where you start.

Conflagration, inspired by artwork by the incomparable @/Sylenth-l begins the journey of the On Like A Housefire series, now 22 fics and counting (#23 is in production) following the loves, lives, and losses of primarily Osiris, Felwinter, and Timur from the Dark Age right up to more or less current game canon.

Overarching thematics are widely romantic, with some healthy doses of drama, action, and angst. (And a sprinkling of kink smut, just to keep it that Warlock level of Weird)

*Don’t let the rarepairs/triad scare you off, I back my shit up.

4/25/24 EDIT: For those of you who do not have an AO3 Membership yet, I have a handful of invites on hand. Given the recent bot attacks, I encourage my readers to sign up. It is free and easy to join, but requires either an invite or a wait list vetting from the site (to avoid exactly this kind of problem). If you'd like an invite please DM me with an email address.

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honeysuckleharringtons · 5 months

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Part Two: "Déjà Brew" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, Reader is still reeling from the news she's just received. Turns out, sometimes the love of a mother might just be the very help you need when times are tough. — (Now) At Brew and Me, Reader struggles with the stress of motherhood and working. Turns out, a visit from her least favorite patron might be the thing she needs to cheer her up.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,120

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things, small mention of childhood cancer (not related to any of the main characters in this series), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: ngl, the writing in this chapter sucks but i promise it gets better!!

Originally Written: 10/08/2023 through 10/12/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, June of 1987 ]

You'd been holding onto the knowledge of your pregnancy for roughly two days, and since then, everything had felt upside down.

You'd looked for every reason possible to not see your boyfriend. You only spoke to your mom and siblings when spoken to. And worst of all, despite the human being growing inside of you, you felt absolutely empty.

You truly wanted to be happy about this. After all, a new human life was forming in your stomach. But the pain of anyone in your small town finding out you were a sinner, and the gossip about how you'd thrown your life away for some guy, it was just too much to bear.

So instead of facing your problems, you'd holed up in your room, lights out and window closed. You only left your room to grab snacks—which lay uneaten on your nightstand—and to use the bathroom. To your family, you were a passing ship in the night, a ghost barely seen. And just when you thought you'd run out of tears, more slipped out of your eyes and onto your pillow, which you were holding like your life depended on it.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Joyce knocked on the bedroom door. You'd cried for so long that you lost track of time, only realizing it was afternoon due to the setting sun peeking through the curtains. "Honey?" she called, barely getting the word out before gently opening the door. She must've registered quickly what was happening, closing the door behind herself in record speed. "Honey, what's the matter?" she cooed, a loving hand meeting your shoulder.

It's now or never, you thought to yourself. Pulling yourself up, you wiped the excess tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "Mom," you sniffled, the word sounding weaker than ever, "I've done a terrible thing."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, my sweet," she said, taking your hands in hers. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

You nodded, though you were questioning if that statement really was true, considering the bomb you were about to drop on her. More tears involuntarily slipped down your cheeks, your eyes darting anywhere in the room besides her face.

Joyce ran a soft hand through your hair, clicking her tongue lightly. "Honey, I want you to know that you don't have to feel pressured to tell me what's wrong. But I am always here if you do want to tell me."

You forced the words to come out, and you were nearly hyperventilating before you'd even said them. "I don't really know how to tell you, because I'm not quite sure how you'll take it."

Her lips left a soft peck on your forehead, a silent reassurance that she was there for you. An unsteady breath exited your mouth, before you finally said the dreaded words you'd been thinking about for the last forty-eight hours. "The terrible thing is… I'm pregnant. And I have no clue what to do."

You braced yourself for impact, waiting for her to throw you out into the street or scream at you or slap you or anything really. You'd gone over every possible reaction in the book, hoping to find a rebuttal to each one.

Still, the screams never came and her hand never even touched your skin, other than the moment she pulled you into her side. "Oh, honey," she whispered, a tone of sympathy clear in the words.

Tears started to fall once again as she held you close, a gentle hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. You'd surely covered the both of you in tears and snot, but truth be told, that was the least of your concerns, given the situation.

"Y/N, you're gonna be okay," she reassured. "I promise, there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. And from here on out, there's nothing that is going to stop me from loving this child. I'm going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay?"

Through your crying, you managed to ask, "You aren't mad at me?" Genuine confusion took over you at her response to the news. You'd been convinced she'd be angry, never considering that she was the one becoming a grandmother.

She clicked her tongue again. "No, I'm still very frustrated with you for doing something this irresponsible. But that doesn't mean I don't love you or this baby."

It felt like all the blood had drained from your body as you lay practically limp in your mother's arms. The air was heavy as she waited for you to say something, anything, but the words never came. Words seemed a million miles away as the discovery of life inside you started to feel all too real.

Some time passed before she spoke again—whether it was two minutes or two hours, you didn't know. Her hand rubbed soft lines over your disposed arm, her touch as warm and welcomed as your favorite childhood blanket. "Honey, I've been where you were before. Maybe not exactly your situation, but I know what this feeling is like—the worry of what the dad is gonna think, the anxiety of caring for two people. It's terrifying. But I've got good news for you," she paused, kissing the top of your head. "You don't have to do it alone. Because I'm gonna be right here."

You weren't sure you gave her a response to that. Full-on sobs were now wracking your body, despite her kind words. Your tears flowed and your chest heaved, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to stop. Panic and fear coursed through you, and as much as you wanted to be happy about this baby, the only true feeling you had at the moment was resentment toward yourself.

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

"Max, honey, do you know what time it is?" you asked, quite frantically. "I left my watch at home this morning."

A knock sounded on the counter behind you. "It's time for me to be your boyfriend," Steve said smugly, giving you a smirk as you turned to face him.

Max glared down at her watch, rolling her eyes at the cheesiness occurring in front of her. "Actually, it's almost 7:30," the redhead answered, pulling down the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

A grateful sigh slipped past your lips. "Ah, sweet freedom," you said before turning your attention back to Steve, who was sporting a curiously teasing look across his face. "What? I've got a hot date with a bubble bath and my feet and backbone couldn't be happier."

"Sounds sexy," he snickered.

Max huffed in fake annoyance as she passed the latte in her hand over to the brunette girl on the opposite side of the counter. "Have a nice evening," she smiled, then turned to you and Steve, to which she quipped, "If I had a dollar for every time one of you told the other something that was inappropriate to say in a coffee shop, I'd make enough money to pay off my student loans."

"Hey, it's not my fault your boyfriend is off playing basketball at Princeton and training for the NBA," you shrugged, joking of course.

Max gave you a fake pout. "That is below the barista belt, Y/N. That's just cruel."

You shot her a playful smile, giving her a sisterly pat on the arm. "Why don't you get started on the tables, hon'?"

And with that, Max was grabbing her cleaning supplies and heading to clean off the abandoned tables. You gave Steve your attention once more, curious as to if he was interested in holding up to his end of the bargain.

He surprised you with the response that came out of his mouth. "I will have a salted caramel latte with almond milk," he said proudly, sure that his answer was right. "Are you ready for that date yet?"

Your lips formed into a thin line, a look of regret coming to your face. "I hate to tell you, Doc, but nut allergies are a very common thing in my family."

"You work with almond milk all the time," he rebutted, a hand on his hip.

Your eyes narrowed in on him, not ready to back down from his challenge. "I don't like caramel."

He scoffed. "Who doesn't like caramel?"

You shrugged. "Me."

"Why don't you just admit that I was right and tell me where you wanna go next weekend?"

"Because you're wrong and I'm busy next weekend," you answered, both responses true.

He finally broke eye contact with you to look over at Max. "Hey, Max, is a salted caramel latte with almond mix Y/N's favorite item on the menu?"

"Everyone knows she hates almond milk," she answered. "I'm disappointed in you for not knowing."

His attention turned to you again, his eyes narrowing in on yours. "How do I know she isn't being paid to say that?"

An exasperated sigh left your mouth. "We make five bucks an hour and you expect me to have extra money to throw at Max? No offense, Max."

"None taken," she laughed, still scrubbing away at one of the tables. "I don't have money to throw at you either."

Steve shook his head in some mixture of disbelief and playfulness. "Would you just get me my coffee? To-go, please."

Your brows furrowed as you got to work on the drink. "What's with the to-go order? You hardly ever get your coffee to-go."

"If you must know, I happen to have a hot date of my own," he said vaguely, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sounds sexy," you jested. "Who's the girl?"

"A cancer patient in the PEDS ward."

Your expression went from curious to downright confused at his statement. "Do I wanna know how that constitutes as a hot date?"

"She's got a crush on me so I get asked to sit with her on nights that her mom works," he explained, slipping some cash into the tip jar. "It's a hot date because every time I go in her room, she asks me to crank the heater all the way up. I think that's just because she likes the way I look when I'm sweaty."

A gentle smile appeared on your face as you passed him his latte. You thought about your own little girl, who'd be here any minute, and how much you regretted nights like those where she was left to her own devices, left to stay with your mom or one of your brothers instead of the person she needed most.

You shook off the thoughts, taking the money from his opposite hand and placing it in the cash register. "Have a brew-tiful night and enjoy your date, Doc."

And with that, Steve gave you one last playful smirk and headed out the door, but not before a certain little girl ran past him and over to you. Joyce followed suit behind her as Steve held the door open, then began his journey out to his car and, presumably, the hospital.

"Mommy!" Mandy squealed, running around the counter to greet you.

You picked her up, happier than ever to see her, placing a kiss on her soft hair. "Hey, sweetpea," you smiled, love overflowing from you as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck. "What did you get up to today?"

"Grandma took me to the park!" she answered excitedly, her hazel eyes lit up with delight.

You gasped, playing along with her enthusiasm. "No way! You'll have to tell Mommy all about it."

"Now, don't get mad," Joyce started to say as she walked over to you.

Your brows furrowed. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

A regretful look came across the woman's face, explaining, "We passed an ice cream truck on the way here and-"

"Mom, you know I always give her one of the leftover cake pops at the end of the day. She can't eat too much sugar."

"I know," Joyce said, "but Jon's in town for Thanksgiving so he's offered to give you us both a night off."

It was selfish, but you'd never been so grateful for your brother to be home. You sighed, setting your daughter back on the ground. "Well then, let's put all that energy to use, shall we?"

And with that, Mandy was hot on your trail, following you around as you worked to close up the shop. You just smiled down at the girl, prouder than anyone had ever been to be a mom. Sure, it was biased, but you were quit certain you had the best girl in the whole world.

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