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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996.

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana.

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior.

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool.

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it.

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking.

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too.

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in.

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended.

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated.

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do.

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.”

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.”

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said.

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh.

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol.

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically.

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself.

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink.

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth.

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band.

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis.

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt.

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name.

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat.

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence.

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.”

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.”

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs.

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home.

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building.

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.”

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin.

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it.

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers.

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth.

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him.

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend.

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you.

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night?

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.”

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best.

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes.

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead.

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie.

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now.

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks.

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys.

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks.

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek.

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded.

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.”

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris.

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

Text

I need a garden tool that's like a hammer with a wedge shaped head to chop dirt with. Like a hand axe but much blunter. Not a hoe, it has to be blunt and heavy.

You see, there are a number of plant species that seem to be totally reliant on soil disturbance such as plowing. They simply don't grow in areas that haven't been churned up a little bit.

This suggests to me that they have evolved into this niche and there must be some kind of natural equivalent. I recall that bison hooves were noted to churn up the soil across vast areas.

I am overcome with the need to experiment with a more hoof-like tool.

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sillylotrpolls · 3 months

Text

(Relevant reading below poll.)

This poll is one of my favorites, because I love every possible option. When it previously ran, voters determined Legolas had dyscalculia. I'm eager to see if that result holds up in this "extended edition," or if tumblr will find itself swayed in a new direction.

Excerpted from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Chapter 7: Helm's Deep and Chapter 8: The Road to Isengard

'Two!' said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the wall. 'Two?' said Legolas. 'I have done better, though now I must grope for spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But that is only a few leaves in a forest.'

(Rest of the relevant text below the cut.)

...

'Twenty-one!' cried Gimli. He hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the last Orc before his feet. 'Now my count passes Master Legolas again.' 'We must stop this rat-hole,' said Gamling. 'Dwarves are said to be cunning folk with stone. Lend us your aid, master!' 'We do not shape stone with battle-axes, nor with our finger-nails,' said Gimli. 'But I will help as I may.' They gathered such small boulders and broken stones as they could find to hand, and under Gimli's direction the Westfold-men blocked up the inner end of the culvert, until only a narrow outlet remained. Then the Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff. 'It will be drier above,' said Gimli. 'Come, Gamling, let us see how things go on the wall!' He climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Éomer. The elf was whetting his long knife. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled. 'Twenty-one!' said Gimli. 'Good!' said Legolas. 'But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-work up here.'

...

'Things go ill, my friends,' he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm. 'Ill enough,' said Legolas, 'but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us. Where is Gimli?' 'I do not know.' said Aragorn. 'I last saw him fighting on the ground behind the wall, but the enemy swept us apart.' 'Alas! That is evil news,' said Legolas. 'He is stout and strong,' said Aragorn. 'Let us hope that he will escape back to the caves. There he would be safe for a while. Safer than we. Such a refuge would be to the liking of a dwarf.' 'That must be my hope'' said Legolas. 'But I wish that he had come this way. I desired to tell Master Gimli that my tale is now thirty-nine.' 'If he wins back to the caves, he will pass your count again,' laughed Aragorn. 'Never did I see an axe so wielded.' 'I must go and seek some arrows,' said Legolas. 'Would that this night would end, and I could have better light for shooting.'

...

Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Éomer son of Éomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong. 'Forty-two, Master Legolas!' he cried. 'Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?' 'You have passed my score by one,' answered Legolas. 'But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!'

#lotr #lord of the rings #poll #polls #extended edition poll #gigolas #gimleaf

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kekaki-cupcakes · 6 months

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Hi luv! May I req for Leo falling for a mischievous (cat-like personality) demigo (maybe ares, idk) after she beats him while sparring so he continuously asks her to spar just to spend more time together (and maybe she knows it and just plays along, maybe tells him she’ll go on a date with him once he beats her?). Idk this was just an idea, thought I got. Do not feel pressured or anything obvs!

Heya this has been in my inbox for a while and I finally got a good idea lol cause I don't wanna be posting half assed WIP's. [this is also combined with a request for Leo Valdez x daughter of Athena reader I got a while ago btw]

Enjoy <3

love is stronger then everything [except Clarrise, of course] ---Leo V x Daughter of Athena reader

»»————-　★　————-««

Leo was a mastermind.

Like, obviously you were the daughter of Athena, but he was the one behind it all. He was just… so smart. It was unbelievable sometimes. Not to be big headed or anything, he was just the most intelligent person in the room.

Well, in this scenario, it wasn’t the room, it was the arena. And that’s about where his cunning brain cells decided to sit on the bench and do their nails with Piper.

He’d tell them off later, if he ever survived the sharp eyed sharp edged girl in front of him who was somehow holding a war axe made of solid imperial gold over her shoulder like it was nothing. The sight of your arms distracted him of his incoming death momentarily, but then you just had to open your mouth. “

“Valdez, are you gonna spar with me, or was the six step official challenge at breakfast with a disco ball and three tonnes of strawberries for nothing?”

“Four tonnes, actually,” he managed to squeak out, and then shifted his grip on the sword he’d borrowed from Jake, who’d only laughed in his face when Leo told him he’d challenged you.

Judging by the way you fiddled with your camp beads necklace and then swung the smooth golden axe stained with something remarkably similar to human blood, Jake was right. Leo gulped and stepped back, ready to scramble out of the way and clang his too big sword against the edges of the axe he only just realized were sharp enough to cut through bone.

You seemed to pity him as well, which Leo didn’t appreciate, but at least you gave him a few extra seconds to scramble out of the way.

A moment later there was sand in his eyes churned up by your sneakers, the ones with little green string snakes as laces. He vaguely remembered snakes being a symbol of Athena, only that thought was scrapped when he had to step back to avoid having his skull split in half.

Piper cheered sarcastically and passed Jason a leftover strawberry from this morning’s events.

You spun around and the axe made a crater in the sawdust covered ground. Leo turned and half heartedly swung his hammer at your shoulder, but you dipped back and knocked it out of his hands in less then a second, leaving him defenseless.

Leo launched himself backwards and felt his shoe skid on the ground, sawdust billowing up into his vision as gravity decided to ruin his day, and his dignity.

He was contemplating just falling asleep right then and there, when a gray sliver appeared in front of him. He had to cross his eyes to identify the metal poking his nose as the tip of your war axe. Leo just got comfy on the ground, resting his hands beneath his head as you glared.

Apparently you weren’t satisfied with the early defeat, gray eyes narrowed as you snapped. “What on Olympus was that, Valdez?”

“Me fighting?” He asked hopefully, squinting up as the sun angled itself behind you. He brushed away the thought that it made you look a bit like an angel, despite the frown on your face and the weapon at his throat.

“Well you aren’t any good at it, so don’t bother,” you said, hooking the axe over your shoulder and marching off. “I have to go help Beth with the capture the flag plans.”

Leo huffed, blowing a strand of his curly brown hair out of his face and grinning up at the roof, which swirled a little. He might’ve bumped his head a little too hard, now that he thought about it.

Then another face swam in front of him and Piper popped a bubble that smelt vaguely of grapes. She looked towards where you’d disappeared out the arena’s swinging double doors. “What in the ever loving fucknuggets was that, Valdez?”

“I liked their version better,” Leo grumbled, and sat up slowly, feeling his bones groan internally at him. “And it’s not my fault their fit. And strong. ANd have a huge weapon. And pretty eyes. And-”

“And a nice ass?”

“Yep, especially in those camo pan- why are you looking at their ass?” Leo asked suspiciously. Taking a hand from Piper to get up properly. He stretched his arms above his head and tried to stop thinking about your butt. It didn’t really work very well, and then his thoughts skipped along to your thighs and the really cool scar along one and he missed half of what Jason was saying in between the smile he was trying to hide.

That didn’t matter very much though, because Leo was struck with the best idea in the history of children born of the literal ideas god. Well, maybe that was Athena, not Hephestus, but your parents were a problem for later. Way later. Like when you’d decided Leo was more than just a rock stuck in your shoe.

That was something he could work on though.

He just had to impress you so much that you’d agree to go out with him. Building something cool would be the immediate option, but he built cool things everyday. It wasn’t easy, per-say, but it wasn’t a date-worthy achievement.

Piper snapped her fingers in front of his face and Leo jerked his head back, “huh? Sorry I was just thinking…”

“About what? Finally giving up on-”

“Imma single handedly win capture the flag!”

»»————-　★　————-««

You handed out the last of the helmets, blue plumes dotting the crowd of demigods jostling around and yelling about lice and how their butterfly clips wouldn’t fit underneath the bronze.

You chose to ignore those ones and turned back to the little canvas tent someone had dragged out from Bunker 9 to set up base in, even though it couldn’t be used during the actual game. You weren’t actually sure what the point of it was, but Clarrise deemed it necessary, and you decided not to argue with her, in the interest of living.

The Athena cabin had managed to swoop in and ally with the Ares cabin before Connor got there, so you managed to rein in the help of Butch and his siblings [which meant that the Red team would have quite a few problems involving pegasi droppings in the hours to come], the two twins of Nike, the Dionysus and Hebe kids, as well as the smattering of Aphrodite kids that were ready to get blood under their perfectly done nails. A few of them seemed too happy about that prospect, but Drew had heart shaped arrows and Charmspeak, so you ignored the fact Lacey was singing about chopping off heads.

Annabeth propped her sneakers up on the table, smudging mud on the map of the forest as she did so, to tie up her laces. “So, we’ve got puddles of pegasi shit under the leaves, I asked Holly and Laurel who could make the most nets so we’ll have enough to trap most of the Hermes cabin under by the time we start, and then Clarrise and her lot can just heavily maim the rest.”

“Nice,” you noted, and pushed the coloured pins for each demigod wiping blue warpaint across their cheeks around the map to their places. “We’re against Will’s dickwits, so they’ll do that thing and keep the sun behind them to blind everyone on our team.”

Annabeth fiddled with her camp necklace and glared at the map. “ And what are we supposed to do to counter that? Ask Apollo to take the day off??

“Start handing out sunglasses.”

Someone dragged a bucking gray pegasi through the opening to the canvas tent and chaos broke out, Butch yelling orders at a group of Dionysus kids who began feeding the freaked out mare shiraz.

You turned away before you were lumped with the task of dealing with them, and reached for your axe. A sticky note fell off, the yellow paper floating to the ground.

Hi hi so if i win capture the flag by myself then will you go out with me also i cant ask you this in person because jasons teaching me how to use a sword and im about to run out of sticky note and now ive forgotten what i was trying to say

The note ended there, and you frowned, trying to ignore the twitch at your lips when you turned the greasy crinkled paper over.

right yeah this is leo by the way you probably already figured that out cause no one else is smart enough to beat all of camp to go out with you the flying horse distraction was my idea too by the way im a genius you should definitely go out with me okay now im out of pa

“Who’s the person?”

You nearly decapitated Drew in that moment. You lowered your axe and shoved the note in the back of your pocket that you only just remembered wasn’t there, courtesy of the armor you’d donned. “What are you talking about?”

“The love note,” she insisted with a curious smirk, lipgloss shining. “They sounded pretty excited and now you’re making that face oh my god you actually like them back!”

“Do not!” You snapped back, tightening your shoulder guard and hefting your bloodied axe over you shoulder. The pegasi was led out of the tent as you shooed Drew in the same direction. “Now go back to your station, we’re starting in five.”

She squinted at you for a second, then her eyes widened as he jaw dropped. “Leo!”

You blinked, wrinkling your nose. “Okay how did you even-”

“Seeya later!” Drew called over her shoulder, skipping away with Butch to find her section of the woods to patrol, her assigned heart shaped sunglasses slipping down her nose.

You narrowed your eyes at her retreating figure, but then one of Clarisse's sisters was wondering if the no killing rule had changed in the last four minutes and you were promptly distracted.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Why don’t you just run along there and turn Travis into a toddler for me?” You asked a son of Hebe who nodded solemnly and disappeared into the trees. Light dappled the leaves on the ground and once you’d ordered around the rest of the soldiers in training, the bellowing horn sounded.

A tense silence filled the woods, no one daring to make the first move and startle the spies out of their trees and the runners from their starting places. You pushed the cat eyed sunglasses up your nose and adjusted your sweaty grip on the axe, which must have weighed as much as the Hebe boy you’d just sent on his way.

Blue streaked the sky behind the clouds, but the blue you were concerned about fluttered peacefully in the wind from where the flag had been nestled in Zeus’s fist.

From what you’d planned, the Nike twins should be hiding in the two pine trees in font of you that had grown on either side of the track you knew the red team would take, nets between them ready to trap the enemy. Drew was placed behind you with her bow and arrows, ready to take down anyone that made it past Holly and Laurel.

And if the lucky little fucker made it any further, you had your axe ready.

The rest of your team, save the Ares kids bordering the river, who were ready to maim but not kill, were causing a distraction that included a lot of grapevines and a reenactment of the Hamilton Musical [the second half was to be acted out at the campfire later that night]. It was sure to distract the Apollo cabin while Annabeth donned her blue Yankees hat and snuck through.

The only way it could go wrong at this point, is if a certain fluffy haired pointy eared son of Hephestus went through with his sticky note proposition and burned down the entire woods.

Considering the fact he’d challenged you to a duel four times this week, you wouldn’t be surprised. Not that you minded. His concentrating face was sort of cute, especially when he stuck his tongue out a little and that time you’d pinned him to the sawdust covered ground you’d realized he actually had a few little freckles along his nose.

And he really liked strawberries. That you could admire.

Okay, maybe you looked forward to whatever proposition he’d set up at breakfast each day, but it mainly had to do with the presents. And definitely not that grin he’d get when you agreed.

If he won this game of capture the flag, which was impossible for one demigod anyway, and you did go out with him, you’d get to see that smile times one thousand. It sort of made you want him to win.

Then you shook the thought from your helmet cladden head. Your team was going to win this, and you’d stab Leo yourself to do so.

Lightly, though.

He still had that crackly laugh you could place from across the dining pavilion, you couldn’t kill him. It made your brain melt for a moment, which wasn’t something a daughter of Athena needed. But, he was a certified genius. Maybe that would even it out.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Where the fuck is Drew?” You yelled into the forest around you, but only the crickets and startled squawking birds answered. Metal clanged and the crickets were silenced when your Axe thudded against a tree, handle first.

Austin smirked, and his bow knocked into your shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise you could already feel forming.

You ducked another blow and stumbled back, stumbling a tight ring around the sun of Apollo to get back to your weapon, glancing around the clearing as you did so. Holly and Laurel were nowhere to be seen, and there were certainly no nets to help you out in the one on one ambush.

You’d been waiting around for some action when suddenly there was a lot but still not enough, because apparently everyone on the blue team had decided they’d rather fall asleep in their stations than help you. Even without them you could hold up your own, grabbing your axe and swinging it around at Austin when he came back for seconds. The arrow in his hand seemed less scary once his bow was in two splintered pieces at your feet.

He stepped back, face falling, and the daisies crushed underfoot sprung back into their slightly crumpled places when he backed away properly, turning to where the blue flag was still untouched on the top of Zeus’s fist.

You paused, lowering the axe in confusion once he called out to nothing, “Oi! Move it loverboy, I’m running out of time!”

Then you froze, because of course somehow, against all odds, a panting Leo was clambering up the highest point with the red flag in one tightly closed hand and a second later he was holding the blue one above his head victoriously as well, a stupidly wide grin on his cute face.

He let out a yelp as pebbles began to slide around his feet but then you couldn’t see him anymore, pushed to the back of the crowd by a stampede of yelling demigods brandishing weapons.

It took you a second to realize they were cheers and not war cries [the difference was hard to make out most of the time], so you weaved through some Hermes kids who were chatting animatedly and a Demeter girl with a stump where her arm had been. Will rushed along behind you to her side once you’d gotten past both teams of the now over capture the flag game.

“What the fuck is this?” You yelled up at Leo, who sent you a double thumbs up and then began hopping down the pile of boulders, the flags now held with his crooked teeth.

You squinted up at him, watching his green army jacket get caught on an overhanging branch and then when he jumped down finally, you were there to cross your arms and glare at him.

“Sup?” he smirked, holding his hands behind his back and rocking on his feet. “Did you get my note?”

Apparently he guessed your answer through your facial expression and then held up the flags like an offering. You ignored a fatal sounding screech from an Aphrodite boy in the distance as Leo chewed his lip. “So…. I won!”

“And how, exactly?”

Leo glanced to the side, and you followed his gaze to a smirking daughter of Aphrodite, who’s hoop earrings shined with blood that definitely wasn’t hers, judging from Drew’s satisfied expression. He then pulled out another crumpled up sticky note from his jacket, which was stained with something dark. He read out in a stilted tone, “I have to make a flamethrower, a chariot with poison shooting arrows, a two real life hoverboards, about thirty pairs of water, lava, and acid proof headphones, and a few jetpacks.”

“Right,” you muttered, tilting your head at Leo.

He blinked obliviously at you and tucked away his extensive list, probably not able to hear you speak over the yelling crowds that bustled around carrying bandages and broken weapons, already busying themselves with the aftermath of the set up blood-bath.

“It was worth it,” he shrugged, “but I’ll be stuck in bunker nine for the rest of the my life.”

“Maybe you can take a day off.” You unfolded your arms, resigned to the fact all of Camp Halfblood was about to witness this. Then you stepped forwards a little and leant in to whisper in his pointed ear. “...Y’know, for our date.”

Leo blinked.

“Someone get the Leo extinguisher!” A Hebe kid yelled, and there was a general uproar of chaos from everyone but you weren’t really paying attention because Leo had patted down his flaming torso quickly, only that didn’t change the color of his face back to normal.

He narrowed his eyes, but the grin had never faded and you could see his fingers tapping along his thighs a thousand miles an hour. “You serious?”

You nodded.

“DID YA HEAR THAT?” He yelled at the crowd of teenagers, cupping his mouth with a scarred hand, “I GOT A HOT DATE YALL!”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you muttered back, rolling your eyes, but when Leo smiled up at you you knew you’d never regret it, so instead you just smiled back, shoving your hands in your pockets while Piper started screaming from Jason’s shoulders.

Leo clapped his hands eagerly, “great, now you gotta carry me.”

“That’s cringe.”

“I’m being serious,” he said and held his arms up so you could grab him bridal style. You paused for a moment and then resigned yourself to the fact this might be the rest of your life. It wasn’t too bad, you realized, when Leo wrapped his arms around your neck and pointed in the direction of Will triumphantly. “Forward, sexy steed!”

“One, if you ever call me that again, I will literally throw you off a cliff, and two, why do we have to get to WIll?” You asked as you carried him through the crowd in the direction of the stressed out blonde anyway.

“Cause Clarrise stabbed me in exchange for letting me win.”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #Leo Valdez x child of Hermes #Leo Valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #but no use of y/n dont worry lol #inktober #autumn #spooky season #halloween #inktober fic #pjo fic

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too-many-muses · 2 months

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Ash froze, he felt a familiar presence, which was strange. He was trying to remember where from then his eyes widen.

Grier had watched Ash freeze and was instantly on high alert. Scanning his surroundings.

"Oh come fucking on!" Ash finally shouted. The memory suddenly comes back of where he knew it from. - For Gaufrid

Gaufrid's armoured head snapped around, the three other astartes with him stopped but he waved them on with a growled order. As the squad moved on he stood stock still hoping to catch another sign of life, while his thoughts churned trying to remember where he had heard that voice before.

The Axe shook in his grip, it remembered, and it could almost taste the soul which had escaped it. Gaufrid looked down at it and ran his tounge across his teeth while he thought, technically the order to capture the psyker had never been recinded.

With a grin he began to push his way through the foliage towards the sound of the shout. He made no attempt at stealth, rotten branches creaking and snapping as he barrelled through them.

#Ash #Gaufrid #rp

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ithaquakisser · 1 year

Text

Look Only At Me

Synopsis; Your eyes are his and only his. Why must you look someone else's way?

CW; Unhealthy relationship, obsession, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, suggestive themes, slight NSFW

MINORS DNI. (18+)

WC; ≈1.2K

Note; I was going through it writing this because I literally made myself blush— 😭 I had a lot of fun writing this though, that's for sure! I noticed "Desire" received so many notes so I decided to write something similar to it. I have to admit I am a bit embarrassed since this was a bit self-indulgent... But I hope you guys enjoy! 🫶 (This was written at 3am...)

Ithaqua gravely detested you. Your presence brought about such profound feelings of resentment in his heart. Such utter feelings of indignation must be buried in silence. Let the wind cry and roar in spite of your presence whilst you turn a blind eye to his misery. Must you pull at his heartstrings each time you part your lips to speak? Must you leave him in dismay every moment your eyes avert from his?

What shall he do to put an end to such torment? What could remedy such agony? You were akin to a dove, oh so pure, so lovely, oh so naive. You dared not turn his way. You were a mere dove, one that he wishes to sink his teeth into. One that he longs to maintain for his selfish desires. One that he yearns to pluck your beloved white feathers and leave you flightless. That way, you could never leave him.

You were a nuisance. You were nothing more but a burden to him. Yet, why must the wind cry upon your absence? He could never bring himself to understand such a thing. Must you cast him aside like worthless dross? Let your eyes wander, longing for something, someone more than him. Such a thought only churns feelings of displeasure. Ithaqua bit his lip in vexation, for he believed this was something he shan't ever let happen.

Your chest heaved sporadically whilst you panted. The distinctively tall hunter towered over you, his ice axe in hand as droplets of crimson met the snow beneath your feet. A flame ignited in his ember eyes as it locked with yours, he could hear his heart beating brutally in ire while he gazed upon your face of dismay. A sly leer on his face as he approached you. You took a step back, letting out a shaky gasp as you met the walls behind you.

Your teammates were nowhere to be seen or heard. In the distance, you could faintly hear cipher machines. The young male had dropped his ice axe behind him, hunching over slightly to meet your face. Raven hues fixated onto yours, he was abnormally close for comfort. “Ithaqua…?” You uttered breathily. With a menacing smile beneath his mask, he gripped your face, causing you to yelp.

“Y/N… Why must you torment me so? Do you hate me, Y/N?” Ithaqua spoke your name like a prayer, an incantation. “Why do you avoid me?” He interrogated with a scowl. “Are you… afraid of me, Y/N?” He lifted your chin to face him, his voice alone was enough to send shivers down your spine. “No… Of course not, Ithaqua.”

“Then… Why do you run from me, Y/N?” Ithaqua gripped your face tighter, his nails sinking lightly into your skin. Your heart fiercely pounded against your chest as he spoke. Snowflakes licked at your hair as scarlet beads spilled from your lips from your earlier encounter. “Tell me… Do I scare you?” He probed as he ran his thumb over your bloodied lips.

“Fear certainly wouldn’t look like this, now, would it…?” Leisurely, you reached your trembling hands towards his mask. You pulled it off, letting it drop to the snow beneath the two of you. A shade of scarlet red painted over his pale cheeks as his onyx eyes met yours, taken aback by your gesture. A faint cool breeze grazed against both of your skins as he leaned closer, releasing his grip on you.

Ithaqua intertwined his hands with yours instead, pinning them against the wall as he leaned toward the crook of your neck. “Don’t you run from me anymore.” He murmured, his hot breath against your skin. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled in response. “Must you always look someone else’s way?” He muttered.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” You repeated yourself like a broken record. You could not bear to upset him like this. “Then promise me one thing, Y/N.” “Yes, Ithaqua?” He leaned in close to your ear, his thumb caressing your hand as he whispered. -“Look only at me.”-

“Of course…” You obliged. “Good…” His lips curled into a small smile as he tenderly kissed your neck. You winced as he scraped his teeth against your bare neck, Ithaqua emitting a small chuckle in response. “Relax…” His warm tongue ran over your flesh, sinking his teeth into you as he sucked. You moaned as he trailed love bites down your neck, working himself down to your collarbone. You called out his name under your breath, lost in his touch.

You had flinched upon the sound of sirens wailing throughout the vicinity. “Ithaqua—” The hunter silenced you, placing a slender finger on your lips. “We’re not done yet.” Spoke the male as he raised your chin, his lips brushing against yours. You melted into the kiss, enveloping your arms around his waist.

Oh, how he gravely detested you. How you'd so easily succumb to him. How you'd still beam at him regardless of his actions. It all made him sick, sick to his stomach. Sick in ways he still didn't quite understand. Perhaps, his heart would find peace with you wrapped around his finger. Seeing it all come into play as you melted upon his touch. He wondered how far is it that you can go. How long is it before you break?

A hand intertwined with his, and another buried deep into his platinum waves. His soft lips were pressed against yours, your tongue dancing with his. Ithaqua's face was flushed with a ruby tint, burning against your skin. Small strands of hair brushed upon your warm cheeks, his body pressed against yours. He was greedy in every way, shape, and form. His touch demonstrates his burning desire, one that is everlasting.

His fingers trailed down your body, begging for more of your touch. He tasted the bitter, metallic taste of blood from your lips, a piece of work done by his own hands. He left you breathless, gasping for air, pleading for more. A thin strand of saliva connected you two, his touch lingering on your skin. The hunter dared not look at you, unable to comprehend the feelings churning inside of him.

How greatly he wanted to strike you down at that very moment. The very moment you laid your delicate eyes on him with such adoration. How dare you gaze upon him with great delicacy? How dare you stir these feelings in his heart? These were all words left unspoken as he reached a trembling hand towards you. Ithaqua's heart pounded frantically in his chest as you took his hand into yours. He wished he could run away, hide away from you, you who brings him torment.

You never cease to pull at his heartstrings like a lyre, and he despised you for it.

Warm rays of sunshine shone upon your face as you awoke in the manor once again. Disoriented you were, you had no recollection of the events that occurred subsequently. You trailed your fingers down your neck, the sound of wind ringing in your ears like chimes. Your cheeks were tinted a shade of carmine, and the series of events prior replayed in your mind ever so vividly. His lips on your cold neck, his fingers tracing stars into your skin. He had left you with a feeling you never felt before in your chest.

Yet, oh, how he detested you so.

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octuscle · 9 months

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hey, I think I need some help. I was put in charge of my friend’s bachelor party, but I really didn’t have much time to get things together, so I went online and found a company that offered to plan everything. Had us go with this “mountain cabin” theme. The rep from the company mentioned he needed to talk to my buddy alone and we haven’t seen him since. One of the other guys went to go look for him too and we haven’t seen him in a bit either. Reason I’m asking for your help is because this cabin resort is filled with all these lumberjack types- they all look and sound the same. Plus I just saw them put up a sign about a construction project. Not sure what’s going on, but I’m worried

Buddy, just take a look at it. I would not form an opinion from the pictures on the Internet. However, you already form an opinion on the way to the lodge. In fact, there seem to be quite a few major infrastructure projects going on in the area. Looks like a dam project. In any case, the lodge is not idyllic. The road is churned up by large construction machines. When you arrive at the lodge, your car is splattered with mud. The air is filled with a concert of axes, machine saws and jackhammers. Definitely not the place you want to celebrate a bachelor party.

To your surprise, your friend comes running up to you. So… You assume that it is your friend. The facial features are at least similar. But he doesn't wear glasses. And also otherwise rather little. He shows a lot of skin. And many muscles. Fuck, last week you were just sitting on the couch, shoveling junk food into you and watching hours of Netflix. The fellow hugging you now looks like he feeds on bears he kills with his bare hands.

Bruh, good to see you, he says. Where's everyone else? The party is already in full swing. He and his new friends would have so much fun here already. He whistles impressively loud on his fingers. And your friend Christopher comes running. He also hugs you and almost crushes you. And he looks like a brother if not like his twin brother of the groom. At best, you can recognize him by details of his facial features. Crazy. Absolutely crazy!

Your friend asks Christopher to show you around a bit. He would like to do it himself. But the rocks don't blow themselves up. Christopher and he laugh out loud at the lame joke. And you wonder if your loafers will survive a walk in this muddy landscape. Christopher takes you to the cafeteria first. This is where the party will take place, he says. You look around and try not to look horrified. Bare white tables, long benches, glaring neon light. The only decoration is the hot fellows who are taking a break here. Fuck, do these lumberjacks and construction workers turn you on? Christopher puts a tray with two cups of coffee and some donuts on the table. The donuts are especially for you. Specialty of the chef. The filling is delicious! Well, you first take a sip of the coffee. It is indeed not bad. Strong and hot. Plus a bite of the sugar glazed donut. Fuck, what kind of filling is that? Slimy, white… The taste a bit like… Musk? You suppress the reflex to gag or spit. You rinse with a sip of coffee. Damn, maybe the filling is tasty after all. Christopher looks at you silently, grinning. On the third donut, you suck out the filling. You could get addicted to this stuff.

Fuck, Christopher is still sitting across from you, grinning. Wide-legged. The bulge in his shorts is indecently big. You can hardly take your eyes off it. He stands up and says that he will show you the washrooms next. And then how the donut filling is made.

Hehehe, you guessed it. Christopher makes an excellent filling for the donuts. You wonder if your friend can do it as well. Christopher asks if you would like to see your bunk now. You answer if the number in the washroom wasn't enough for him. He grins and moves forward, you follow and have trouble keeping up with his pace. Fuck, he is really incredibly fit. And his boots are of course simply better suited for the mud than your now completely dirty loafers. Shortly before the barracks, in which your bed stands, you slip in the mud. Christopher helps you up and tells you to get undressed on the verander. The two men who are taking a break there and jerking off don't look as if you should be embarrassed.

Christopher leads you into a wash lock and sprays you with a water hose. He throws you a towel. Your cock is hard as a rock. Christopher gets on his knees in front of you. And for the first time in your life a man gives you a blowjob. And with the load that you cum, two donuts could easily be filled.

Your bunk is simple and cozy. In the bed can easily have two or three men good hard sex. In your closet hang three sets of your work clothes. If you need more, there's a supply closet next to the shower rooms. You're all the same size anyway. Christopher gives you your duty roster. Tomorrow you are scheduled to chop down trees early. And as much as he'd like to spend the night with you, he has to go back to pouring concrete at the dam. It doesn't matter, you are tired anyway and fall naked into your bed.

05:00 in the morning. You don't need an alarm clock, you are a nature boy. Even behind the curtains you know when it's time to get up. A caravan sets out from the barracks in the direction of the cafeteria. If you work hard, you should have a good breakfast. Today you are assigned to the milking for the doughnut production. Some new workers are expected in the afternoon. They are to be welcomed.

And after that, it's finally time to get out into the fresh air and get to work. You love the camp. Lots of hard work for real men. And food, drink and sex. Just like an eternal bachelor party!

A picture of one of the lumberjacks found at @trefoilwombat

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation

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axlthepterodaxl · 1 month

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B U T T E R.

My son.

This is the most I’ve made in one sitting. He’s so big.

A soldier was lost during containment.

C O N T A I N E D.

I don’t know whether to make a few different flavors from this or just one big batch of a single flavor.

#homemade butter #butter #the world churns on an axel #ax to churn #my small butter business

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see-arcane · 10 months

Text

Well, that unfortunately explains a whole frustrating lot about some questions I had pre-release.

Dracula is, while not their exclusive character (thank you public domain), one of Universal's oldest classic draws. Him, Frankenstein's Creature, and the handful of side bogeymen are the biggest hitters of the Universal Monsters crew. And unlike Renfield, TLVotD is the definition of classic horror! The Count's own gruesome bloodstained roots! It should have been promoted everywhere! Explosively!

And yet all this time, there's only been the one trailer. Barely any clips. Barely any interviews or BTS snippets I could scrape up, all of which would have been finished well before the WGA and SAG-AFTRA Strikes.

When you have to actively dig for movie updates instead of being bombarded with them in the inescapable ad barrage…that means there's nothing to promote with. Because nobody bothered to take care of the promotional needs for the movie.

No, The Last Voyage of the Demeter's not a masterwork of cinema. But it's a good period piece old school scary Dracula tale! It's a hundred times better than the generic Count Sexypire slop that's been churned out for decades! This movie was made for the fans of the book, fans of the monster! Which we almost never get to have! And it's getting screwed over because of studios' haggling and more of those lovely layoffs. Ugh.

If anyone out there has plans to see the movie in theaters, now's the time to get your ticket. With it getting axed on international releases and folks being only half-aware the thing's even happening, there's no knowing what a short shelf life it'll have on the big screen.

#my poor neglected monster bat bastard...#feel like pure shit going to relisten to Bear Mcreary's soundtrack again #the last voyage of the demeter #give me the Blu-ray already #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 8 months

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A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part one (Eris x reader Rhys's sister)

Warnings: Injuries and murder and mentions of trauma

I'm so excited this one won the vote! So as Y/n returns to the world of the living, she has to decide whether to save the male who caused her, and her mother's murders, or save him.

Part two

Tag list: open

I screamed as I fell to the ground, my head fuzzy and my stomach churning.

What had happened? I had been walking along, trying to form a plan for…

I take a deep breath, the crisp air and smell of roses pushing into my nostrils. I look at the small grass clearing that makes me tense, memories of terror flitting through my head.

This was the Spring court. Somehow- somehow I was back among the living. Landing right back where my and my mother’s lives had been taken from us.

“Please! Please spare my darling girl!” My mother cries as she’s shoved to the ground, the little lords or spring preparing their weapons, the high lord of spring holding a giant ax as he watches.

I look to Tamlin with tears in my eyes, pleading with him, “Tam, please. Please don’t let them hurt us.”

He looks away, ashamed.

It wasn’t him who was about to lose his life though.

I snap back into reality, hearing voices in the distance. My first instinct is to climb into a tree, wait for them to pass.

But I can hear the angry tones, and I force myself to be silent as I slip through the trees to see where the commotion is coming from.

“Look at this, the High Lord of Spring, on his knees before us.” A cruel male voice said, and I peeked through the foliage to see Tamlin on his knees before a bunch of men, snarling with an arrow in his leg and shoulder.

They looked as if they were laced with faebane.

I wasn’t breathing. He was kneeling there, just as my mother and I had before him and his family.

I could just leave him there, to his fate. Let him die the way he had let us die.

But… my feet wouldn’t move.

I had only just been brought back to life, and I was already about to get myself killed again.

The only thing was that I wasn’t the same weak girl who had died here before.

I searched about, quickly finding a large, heavy rock.

And threw it right at the leader of the group, striking him right in the temple.

“Leave him alone.” I said, lowering my voice in an attempt to hide my identity. I could have used my magic, but that would have been even more telling than my voice.

The males unsheathed their sword, looking for where my voice had come from, and Tamlin stilled.

Please, please don’t recognise me.

“Show yourself you wretch!” The male whom I had hit with the rock snarled, spinning around.

I shifted so I was better hidden. I had no weapons, and against three males who each had at least two weapons…

I should have come up with a better plan.

“How about you show your face you coward!” He continued to shout, but I just smiled as I saw the red haired male who appeared behind him.

Watching as Lucian killed the leader, Tamlin throwing off the two males that were holding him down, I couldn’t help but notice how much they had changed, how different they were then I had seen them last. Lucian had a metal eye now, his face holding more trauma than it had when I knew him.

Tamlin… Even as he killed the last of the males, looked tired and broken. He looked as if he was already half dead.

I watch as they look at the dead males, with coats of bone white, the color of Hybren.

But the king of Hybren is dead.

So who were they following?

I hold my breath, all thoughts on pause as Lucian eyes land on my hiding spot, his metal eye whirring.

Mother above, could he see me?

“Would you like to come join us, or were you planning to wait until we were distracted?” Lucian asked, the words cautious and sharp.

I tense up as Tamlin looks my way too.

I bit my lip, I could run away, and I could surely outrun Tamlin.

But maybe not Lucian.

Taking a calming breath, I step out into the small clearing, were both males stood there, shock keeping them both silent.

“Hi?”

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

Text

Highland Fling: The Battlements [Avenger!/Kilted! Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (8) Suddenly Loki’s ‘True Scotsman’ comment makes a lot more sense. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Kilted! Loki. Language. "Friends" w/ benefits. Hostility. Jealousy. (w/c 2.8k)

The floor swayed as you squirmed on the god's shoulder, his grip tight beneath your ass as he kicked open the centuries-old oak door with a single shattering crunch. “Loki-” you gasped as he set you down carelessly, a harsh wind whipping your hair. You stumbled, reaching out and grabbing the rugged stone of the battlements, slick and cold.

It was raining. But it was Scotland, so of course it was. He stepped back silently while you adjusted to your unexpected surroundings. Something was different, and it wasn’t just Loki’s outfit.

You scanned the view from the battlements, realising that the parked cars and paved roads from earlier were inexplicably gone. Wild trees grew sporadically around the castle, untamed heather and bogs stretching across the landscape to meet unspoilt mountainous glen. Flashes of steel lay strewn as far as the eye could see, dull in the rays of sinking dusk behind a blanket of clouds. Helmets and axes and swords and banners lay abandoned amongst the vegetation, a wave of foreboding making your stomach churn. The air was heavy with the scent of copper. The scent of death. “Loki…” you whispered fearfully, whipping round to meet his contemplating stare. “There has been a battle…” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He took three short steps towards you, punctuating each one with a single word. “Bloody. Short. Fierce.” “I...what is this?” you muttered, looking again across the impossible landscape and back to the kilted warrior in front of you. “A memory…” he growled, hot in your ear as his body pushed flush to yours.

The base of your back hit the stone, realising that instead of your fifties swing dress...it was now a dress of even greater vintage that you wore. Rough natural cotton hung loose around your body, a simple belt gathering in the waist. “A memory...” you repeated sceptically, frowning as Loki took a step back, letting you appraise him. His hair was longer now, rough waves hanging low and wild past his collarbone. Dark curls were gathered messily where they had dried, crusted with sweat and blood. Gone was the pristine kilt ensemble that hung so beautifully on his muscular body during the wedding; and in its place, a true highlander from the pages of history. Muted woollen tartan was slung around his hips, tears in the hem from wear and stains of mud and violence. Matching material was fastened in a sash around his shoulder, set with a jagged clan pin, a wide-buckled belt circling his waist pulled tight. A dark tunic hung undone, dulled silver buttons fastened beneath a thick utilitarian leather strap horizontal over his chest. Jesus fucking Christ you thought, feeling your breaths quicken as you lowered your eyes to take in the heavy boots caked with grime on his feet, cut off just below his bare knees. In his hand, he held a broadsword; fresh blood still smeared down its length. Your fingers grasped at the flat surface of the wall behind you, suddenly wondering how far it would be to jump. “Loki...I-”

He cast the sword aside with a clatter on the stone. One of his rough hands cupped your cheek, locking you in a devastating kiss as a growl rumbled in his throat. “You mocked me with your careless jibes, Agent...but you forget yourself.” he muttered, trailing his bloodied knuckles between your breasts. “You see only the god who lives in your inane fantasies and indulges your shallow needs. The one you think you can bend to your petty whims in your irritating naivety.” You gasped as his hand cupped between your legs, pressing up on your achingly wet core through the unfamiliar cloth. Nerves sizzled beneath his touch, adrenaline soaked pleasure eliciting a whimpering mewl from your lips. You bit down sharply, not wanting to give away just how arousing you were finding this whole ridiculous situation. “'Petty whims' is a bit rich coming from you...” you sneered, glancing over the side of the steep drop and back to his smouldering eyes. “I seriously doubt you were involved in anything as beneath you as a clan feud.” Loki hummed thoughtfully, watching your face as your eyelids fluttered shut beneath the movement of his palm. “Is that so?” he hummed. He rubbed his flattened fingers against your sex, the rough cotton of the dress tugging your delicate clit. “You know nothing, Agent.” he purred malevolently. “I am endless. I am a god. And I will ensure you do not forget whom it is who truly fucks you.” Loki’s parted lips caressed your earlobe, sucking roughly before giving it a sharp nip. His voice was course, staggering over every hushed word. “You could have a thousand lovers and each of their names would evaporate like smoke. Only I will remain.” “This is an illusion...Loki..like everything about you-” you stammered defiantly while bucking into his touch. Hard tendrils of hair grazed your cheek as he pressed you against the battlements with his kilted hips, malevolent rumbles simmering through his chest to yours. “Everything is an illusion” he groaned, stooping and gathering your dress in a fist before twisting it upward. “Everything but the pleasure that only I can give you.” Soft drops of rain hit your face as you turned it to the sky, dark clouds threatening overhead. Thunder rolled as you felt yourself grasp at his tunic, heavy metal buttons catching your fingertips as you tried to push it off his shoulders. “No need for that, lass” he gasped gruffly, hoisting you to sit on the wet wall of the castle. You wrapped your glistening forearms around his neck, seeing fat drops of rain slide down his cheekbones in slow motion. The dirt caking his face gave way, a line of fair skin revealed beneath each track as the raindrops hung on his jaw before falling below. He slid the fabric of your dress up your widened thighs, squeezing his hands around the soft flesh. “Are you afraid?” he goaded, feeling you tremble from the chill. You shook your head, fire in your eyes. He may be powerful, dramatic and fucking stubborn; you thought as your fingers pulled the thick fold of his kilt between your open thighs. But so am I. “Just cold.” you snapped, before pulling him by the sash into a ravenous kiss. The force sent you rocking backwards, leaning dangerously over the side of the battlements. Loki’s tongue jammed into your mouth, shallow pants slipping down the back of your throat. “Not for long.” he panted, pulling your lip between his teeth as sharp rain slapped against your skin.

Your fingers clawed at the thick wool of his kilt, delving beneath endless layers of folding fabric until you found what you craved. Loki let out a simmering moan as you wrapped the digits around his cock, furiously hard and hot in your grip. “See what you do to me, infuriating woman.” Loki grunted, pressing himself further between your legs. The fronts of his thighs were flush against the wet stone, his enormous cock dabbing your entrance. Loki tightened his grip on your hips, balancing you on the narrow parapet. The scratch of his kilt tingled your skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist, willing him to fill you already. “Does your other lover fuck you thus?” Loki purred, rubbing the wide tip teasingly between your folds. His hair had begun to soak through, sodden coils of darkness sticking to his sharp cheekbones. The heavy tunic he wore was damp, a heavy musk filling your nostrils as Loki edged himself inside with a low groan. Your eyes rolled back, arching against the feeling of Loki’s manhood squeezing past every inch of your manufactured resistance. “Does he make you feel like I do? Does he know how to fuck you like I do...” he goaded, before bottoming out with a guttural grunt. “Yes.” you moaned, the pleasure doubled as you relished the god’s confused growl of disapproval. He rutted harshly against your core, his primal possessiveness threatening to consume you both as your fingers grasped at the folds of tartan gathered over his thighs. “Liar.” he muttered through heavy breaths, pulling your hips forward deeper onto his throbbing cock. “You’d k-know...dickhead.” you gasped, as one of Loki’s hands left your waist and gripped the raised column of stone to your side. He propelled himself upward, punctured moans of pleasure rolling alongside the thunder in the distance as Loki made reality shift beneath the wave of his hips. A thick crunch sounded as a chunk of the pillar crumbled in his grip, the whites of his knuckles visible through the brownish crust of blood clinging to them. Crushed debris fell as his fingers loosened, staring at you with a violent lust. “I stood with this clan while they took back their rightful lands...this c-castle, their kingdom…” he grunted, throwing his head back. Rain fell relentlessly over you both, glistening on his brow scrunched to the sky. You yanked the tartan sash around his shoulder, pulling him into another messy kiss to shut him the hell up. He tore back defiantly, the pierce of his glare making you clench. “I slaughtered by their side. Stirred their passions for the injustice of their plight. Vengeance, Agent...is not a task I take lightly. Nor one I would embellish.” he growled, pumping his thighs upward to your tight heat. “And neither is pleasure.” “Oh g-god, L-Loki…” you moaned, bursting with the infectious gravitas of his words. He growled darkly, beginning to come undone as he sought balance against the pillar he’d almost destroyed.

“F-fuck you’re unbearably p-perfect, aren’t you...” he sneered, sinking his fingertips into one of your thighs wrapped around his hips. “Made for my cock, Agent. M-made to take my uhhh...faen...might.” You wound your fingers in his soaking hair, tugging it back the way you’d grown to know he liked. Nice and tight.

He hissed, baring his teeth. “Maybe you’re made to pleasure me, Laufeyson.” you panted, seeing his eyebrows slant as he danced on the edge of exploding deep inside your wet heat. “Or maybe not...I’m still waiting for you to go d-down on me, m-maybe you’re not as gifted as you...uhhh..think.” The rough wool of his kilt chafed your inner thighs as he quickened the pace, your fingers digging into his scalp. “How dare you.” he spat through gritted teeth, drool gathering at the corners of his mouth as he fought release. “That act requires a certain level of...oh, fuckme. That’s it. That’s.it...-level of trust. Do you t-trust me now, Agent?” Your head fell back, feeling yourself hover dangerously over the side of the battlement held only by Loki’s hand around your waist. He lowered you further. The drop must have been more than fifty feet, but you didn’t care. A primal orgasm was bubbling like a tide, walls beginning to spasm around the thick cock pulsing maddeningly inside your traitorous cunt. “Loki..” you panted, a whimper getting lost on a particularly strong gust of wind as rain whipped your cheeks. “Do you trust me?” he repeated loudly, hair plastered across his glistening forehead. “I don’t know!” you cried, as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Well, let’s find out, shall we?”

Suddenly his hand was gone from your waist, placed on the column at his other side. Loki’s arms were spread like he was sitting on a throne, kilt drawn askew as he continued to fuck you mercilessly over the side of the castle in the midst of the howling storm. You tightened your legs around his waist as he edged you backwards, nudging your lower back closer to the wall’s limit. You felt too fucking good to be afraid. The curve of your ass scraped against the wet stone as Loki’s fingertips sank into the slippery flesh of your thighs. If he wanted to, he could flip me right off this wall and I couldn’t stop him, you thought with a surge of adrenaline; another devastating wave of pleasure rolling through your body. It was an out of body experience, and you were suddenly aware your hands travelling up your dripping neck, pressing against your temples before stretching over your head into the darkening gloom. “Agent.” Loki panted, a tinge of alarm in his voice as your hips juddered against him; willing him to go faster. A harsh wind blew, wet needles buffeting against the delicate skin of your outstretched arms. One hand gripped the other wrist as you slid back on forth on his cock, guided by the god holding your thighs as your head fell back. Limp. I guess I do trust him, go figure; you thought, before everything went blurry. Blood thundered in your ears as you came with a strangled yell against the wind, clamping desperately as your pelvis pressed down on the angle between you. “Fuck. Agent.” Loki growled, before falling apart with a thunderous roar. You craned upward to catch a glimpse of him, silhouetted against the turret. His hair was a black slick, beads of rain coating his lashes which rolled down his jaw. From this angle, he was a god; positioned between your spread thighs while he milked every drop of himself into your willing pussy.

The tartan sash had slipped down his shoulder, the thick leather strap diagonal on his chest straining against the pressure of his obscenely powerful climax. Veins in his neck stood taut, that bladed jaw pointed upward as he moaned your name towards the moon, shrouded by malevolent cloud. He fell forward. A final shudder accidentally jolting your ass over the edge of the battlement with a wobble. “Loki!” you gasped, hands flying to grab onto him just as his own snapped to your waist. Your fingers wound in the thick kilt fabric covering his thighs, now thoroughly sodden. “Apologies.” he murmured weakly as you scooted towards him.

“So much for trusting you.” you huffed, releasing a hand from his kilt to peel the soaking dress down your thighs. “Not so fast…” he hummed, halting the movement. “Loki it’s freezing.” you said half-heartedly, curiosity making your stomach flip. The kilted god silently sank to his knees, pushing your trembling legs wider apart. “Hold on to the pillars…” he murmured, nodding to the high portions of battlement on either side of you. You raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Just do it.” he snapped, rolling his eyes before latching his mouth on the inside of your knee. You did what he asked. Loki’s tongue was deliciously warm against the chill. It moved in massaging waves, every torturous inch accompanied with a graze of his teeth as he worked up the leg. You squirmed, feeling his hot seed beginning to weep from your entrance. From previous experience, you knew there would be a lot of it. You gasped as his tongue found your pussy with one soft, wide lick from the base of the stone to below your clit. A muffled groan of satisfaction sounded from between your thighs, the scoop of his muscle dipping inside your messy heat. Collecting himself. Loki withdrew, licking his lips with a coy smile. “It’s quite the delicacy, Agent. You really should try it.” Of course he loves the taste of his own cum. You tilted your head, trailing a thumb against the corner of his mouth as it twitched.

“You missed a bit.” you murmured, before bringing it to your lips. Loki watched in fascination as you sucked it clean, making sure the hollow of your cheekbones planted the image you wanted it to in his mind. You were sure you saw him flinch. Loki’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “It’s alright.” you shrugged, watching his lip curl in a knowing smirk. It was fucking delicious, and he knew it. Like liquid ambrosia. With a hint of...vanilla? You made a mental note to procure a full serving. Without breaking eye-contact, he lowered again. You gripped the stone pillars on either side for dear life, eyelids fluttering shut as he licked another wide stripe through your folds. His lips fastened around your clit, sucking gently as his soft moans vibrated against your slit.

Loki’s tongue swirled in every way you didn’t know you needed, each skilful bob of his head making your eyes roll back. His tongue flattened, lapping with more finesse than you thought possible.

Hell, he actually is amazing at this. Shit, you thought regretfully before a loud whine of his name filled the air. You rocked into him, the urge to push his angular face further into your desperate pussy almost overwhelming. Sighs of pleasure wafted over his head as you tangled your hand in his soaking hair, lost in the feeling of him buried between your open thighs. “God...Loki...y-yes...more, don’t st-” And suddenly, it was gone.

Your head snapped up, brow furrowed. “That’s enough for now.” Loki said abruptly, the kilt sticking to the outline of his thighs as he stood and extended his hand.

“I told you...I never lie about vengeance. Or pleasure.” The skin around his mouth was sticky with your wetness, taunting evidence of his upper-hand. "Especially when it comes to my...gifts, as you so kindly noted." The audacity of this motherfuc-, you thought as you hopped down from the battlements, ignoring his offer. The sodden dress clung to your curves, hair plastered in thick tendrils to your skin as you gave Loki your steeliest glare. “Next time, darling.” Loki quipped mockingly, unable to contain his mirth at your annoyance. “Who says there’s going to be a next time?” you muttered under your breath. Loki moved his hands together, a pale glow beginning to radiate from them as the illusion began to break. “There’s always a next time, Agent.” he chuckled, as a blinding light began to bubble between his palms. “Trust me.”

To be continued in Crossed Swords Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection